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Authors: Barbara Woster

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BOOK: Fate's Intervention
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Marcelle nodded and smiled,

You

re pretty good at this comforting thing.


A
m I? Too bad I couldn

t provide the comfort I wanted to,

Matthew said. His gaze lowered to her mouth, then back to her eyes. He saw them widen, as if reading his thoughts. He laughed when a blush crept up her neck, turning the alabaster in her cheeks a delightful pink hue.


Tit
for tat,

he said softly, moving a step closer. He lifted a bronzed hand and stroked her skin along the path that her tears had fallen, allowing the pad of his thumb to gently caress her slightly parted lips.

His brain sent out a warning that he was getting too involved, that he was supposed to treat this woman as a ward, nothing more. Yet he deliberately ignored the warning. He wanted to comfort her

and more. Besides, she

d earned a little of what he was going to give with her teasing manner.

When she didn

t protest against his attentions, he tenderly clasped her face in his strong
hands and stepped closer, slowly tilting his head closer to hers, giving her a chance to step away. She didn

t this time.

Her eyes fluttered closed and he heard a small sigh escape a mere moment before his lips closed over hers. Her lips quivered and he drew back. Raising his head, he stepped nearer, closing the gap between them to within only inches. With extreme
tenderness,
he kissed her closed eyelids.

He heard another sigh escape and lifted his head again. Her wistful smile fascinated him. His own smile
widened
,
and
then he lowered his lips again and traced kisses along the path that his caresses had only moments before traveled, first one side of her face and then the other. When he reached the corner of her upturned lips, he paused.

The wistfulness was now a full-fledged smile. His plan to kiss her fears and sadness away obviously worked, so continuing
to
hold her wasn

t necessary, nor was caressing her or kissing her. His brain warned him to stop now; stop before he took complete advantage of an innocent. Stop before he broke his rule about playing with a virgin

fire

and
he had no doubt, after that kiss
,
that she was untouched. Stop before she changed the rules of engagement and demanded he marr
y
her for acting malapropos. He smiled at the reminder of their earlier conversation. He

d definitely taken this beyond two five-minute perusals. Would she really be one of those to demand virginal rights if he persisted?

That had him drawing back.

Marcelle felt tension fill Matthew

s body and opened her eyes. She looked at him questioningly, but he merely pulled her into his embrace. His hand tangled in the hair that had
somehow come unbound and he laid her head beneath his chin. He couldn

t believe her capable of that level of machinations.


Feel better?

He asked, softly.


Yes,

Marcelle muttered.


You know, Marcelle,

he whispered against her hair,

with the kind of passion that

s blazing in you, you never have to doubt that you have plenty of heart left. No heartless person could respond with such fervor.

Marcelle looked up and smiled,

I could say the same for you, Matthew.

Matthew started at that, and Marcelle laughed softly, pulling away from his embrace,

Good night, Matthew. I

ll see you off in the morning.

With that, Marcelle turned from his embrace and headed up the staircase to her bedroom, her
father

s drink forgotten and her mind clinging to memory of a tender moment that she would
never
forget.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Marcelle was standing in the foyer the following morning waiting on Matthew. When he finally appeared at the head of the stairs, a night

s growth of beard shadowing his normally clean-shaven jaw, her heartbeat quickened.
He is not only handsome
, she thought,
but that shadowy beard makes him look downright dangerous
. She shuddered.

Steady
, she warned herself. The last thing she needed was to act like a Carol
Ann
No-Brain, scare him senseless, and watch him ride away never to return.

It was just an affectionate moment
, she reminded herself for the fiftieth time that morning.
He didn

t even really kiss me. He was trying to make me feel better. Nothing passionate about it.

That
affectionate moment
prevented her from sleeping for
most of the night
.
She only hoped the
morning shadows veiled the dark shadows beneath
her eyes.

Matthew stopped in the middle of securing his gun belt. He half-hoped that Marcelle would oversleep or be too embarrassed to see
to his departure
. Lord knows, he was. Thanks to his impetuousness, he had to go dunk himself in the
ice-cold
creek

twice

before he was finally
able to crawl into bed and drift into a restless sleep.

He descended the stairs, trying to act as normal as possible. The last thing he needed was to frighten her. She was probably quaking in her buckled shoes, wondering whether he would assault her virtue before he rode away.
S
he acted anything but skittish last night
; ha
d in fact, responded to his caresses with a passion that startled him

and pleased him. He shook his head violently, slinging thoughts of last night into the dark recesses of his brain.


Good morning, Matthew,

Marcelle said, holding out the bagged supplies that
Nancy
had prepared for his trip.

I had little Joshua bring the horses around. I

ve had Joseph tie them out in front.


Great!

Matthew said, taking the bag.

But I could have taken care of that. There wasn

t any need to wake the boy so early in the morning.

Marcelle smiled,

I didn

t have to wake him. He was already up and into mischief long before I went knocking at their door. Poor
Nancy
looked as if she was about to have apoplexy, so I took the boy off her hands and channeled his energy into doing something useful.

Marcelle shrugged her shoulders and grinned.


You think bringing those horses around from the barn is enough to keep that little hellion out of trouble?

Matthew asked, knowing how active Nancy

s six-year-old boy could be. Most of the time he shadowed Matthew, asking questions incessantly about the horses, sitting on the fence post watching him train, and chattering endlessly about nothing. Matthew often wondered if the boy would be more docile if he had a
father
, or if all boys were that active at his age.
If he had sons, would they be
as energetic?


Lord, no!

Marcelle laughed, snapping him out of his musings.

That

s
why I set him to mucking out stalls right after. I figure by the time that Nancy and I get breakfast set out, he

ll be ready for a morning nap.

Matthew laughed,

Ingenious, Miss
Weatherman
. I reckon you

ll make yourself a pretty good mama one of these days.

The minute the words
escaped,
he wanted to call them back. Damn! He knew that she wasn

t likely to marry or have children and to suggest that she

d be a good mama when he knew she wouldn

t have children to be a mama to, was
callous
. Marcelle

s grim expression confirmed his blunder, but to her
credit,
she
revealed none of her thoughts
.


Marcelle, I . . . ,

Matthew started, but Marcelle interrupted.


A
ny
way,

she continued as if she hadn

t heard what he said,

your horse is saddled. I attached a lead rope to the five mares you are selling, so all you have to do is mount up and ride away.


In that big a hurry to get rid of me, are you?

Matthew said lightly, trying to recapture their comfortable camaraderie from a moment earlier.


M
m
m
,
without a doubt,

Marcelle teased back, also grateful the awkward moment had passed.

A
fter
all, as long as you

re standing here, I can

t see to my mending and knitting and all the other delightful chores that fill my day.

Matthew laughed, relieved that he hadn

t upset her too badly,

W
ell
, then, I guess I

d best hightail it out of here.

He moved by her and opened the front door.

I should be back before the end of the month. I

ll wire, if anything delays my return.

Marcelle nodded and Matthew turned, heading toward White Star.


What? No goodbye kiss?

Marcelle called after him and Matthew froze in the process of packing the food in his saddlebags.
H
e turned slowly to face Marcelle who was wearing a teasing grin on her face. Joseph wasn

t the only little hellion about the place, he thought dourly.


Marcelle, you don

t go teasing a man about things like that,

he said, unable to avoid the huskiness that crept into his voice,

especially when he has to mount a horse right after. That would definitely make for an uncomfortable ride,

he concluded.

When Marcelle looked at him quizzically, he groaned. How could he explain something like that to an innocent? He couldn

t even begin to try. He closed his eyes and tried to shake the thought of kissing her away

again. This time it clung stubbornly. She was too inviting, by far. Normally a kiss wouldn

t even elicit so much as a twinge of response from his body, but not so with Marcelle. Just being near her was like sitting on a bed of hot coals. It burnt him right down to his soul, and that made him boil, so he could only guess at what reaction his body would have if he
did
kiss her

really kiss her. He shifted uncomfortably as his mind conjured her
lying
naked in his bed, him reigning kisses along her supple flesh. Damn, but it was going to be an uncomfortable ride and he hadn

t even laid a hand on her. His irritation rose. If he was going to ride in discomfort, there should be more than just thoughts causing it.

He shook his head violently and opened his eyes. She was still standing there, eyeing him
quizzically
.


A
re
you okay, Matthew?

She whispered from her place on the porch.

BOOK: Fate's Intervention
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