Gerrity'S Bride (24 page)

Matt stirred, and she watched as he stretched, hard muscles rigid beneath the shirtsleeves, chest expanding as he took a deep breath and then crossed his hands beneath his head, closing his eyes once more.

I never get tired of watching him,
she marveled to herself.
All the days and weeks I’ve been here and all the time we’ve been married—it seems like I should know him by heart, I’ve looked him over so often.
She laughed softly, smothering the sound against her knees.

“Somethin’ funny, Em?” he asked lazily. Attuned as he was to her every movement, he’d known the moment she turned her concentration on him, felt the warmth of her gaze with a second sense that surprised him with its accuracy. He knew the moment she entered a room, or when she walked up behind him, his body registering her approach. Whether by the faint scent that accompanied her or the whisper of her skirts, or by the inner ear that told him she was near, it mattered not.
Fact is, I’m gettin’ a bit wrapped up in this woman. More than a bit,
he realized ruefully.
More like head over heels.

She smiled and shook her head. “No, nothing funny, really. I was just enjoying the afternoon.” Not for a minute would she admit her abiding interest in his long, lean body. In the dark hair that rode his collar and the hard line of his jaw, and the broad, callused hands that handled a small child and a half-trained horse with equal care.

He was all the man any woman could wish for, she thought, not for the first time. She didn’t blame Deborah for wanting him so badly. For a moment, she felt almost benevolent toward the woman who had lost her chance at Matt Gerrity. She wondered how many other women wanted him. Maria’d suggested more than once that the man who ran the Carruthers Ranch was much in demand among the unmarried females of the territory. She’d bet he’d broken his share of hearts all over the place.

His chest rose and fell in a slow, easy rhythm as he dozed, and her hand yearned to brush at a lock of hair that fell across his forehead. Clenching her fingers, she denied the impulse, lest she wake him. He needed his rest, she thought with a secret smile, seeing as how he hadn’t slept a whole lot last night. Her smile widened at the thought, and she covered her mouth with one hand, holding back a betraying chuckle.

“Now what are you grinnin’ about, Emmaline?” Matt asked in a husky growl. One eye opened, and then he glared at her from between half-closed lashes. “You look like the cat that swallowed the last of the beefsteak.”

“Not me!” she vowed, waving her hand at him teasingly. “I was just thinking that you really needed a good nap today, an old man like you.”

She unwound her arms from about her knees and scooted across the grass to where he lay. Easing herself close to his sprawled body, she lifted his head and edged herself beneath, her lap providing a pillow for him.

“Somebody kept me awake for a good long time last night.” He looked up at her with just the trace of a grin curling the corner of his mouth. “Some woman kept pesterin’ the daylights out of me till past midnight, and me such an old fella,” he repeated mockingly.

She allowed her fingers to brush at the recalcitrant lock of hair that lay across his forehead, relishing the warmth of his skin. But her grin taunted him, as if she must deny the tenderness she gave. “Listen to you, Gerrity,” she hooted. “There I was, trying to sleep and you kept...well, you just...”

His smile widened and both eyes opened, one hand reaching up to capture her chin. “I just what, Em? All I did was...”

“What are you talking about?” piped up the small voice of the child who had paused in midstream to join in their conversation. “Are you fussing again, Matt?”

“Naw,” he drawled. “I’m just raggin’ at your sister, Tessie. I’m thinkin’ she needs to get her feet wet and let some of her orneriness out the bottom of her soles.”

“Can she come wading with me?” Tessie asked, her eyes dancing with anticipation.

“Sure she can,” he answered. “I’ll even help her take her boots off.” And, so saying, he rolled over and tugged at the leather boots Emmaline had curled beneath her. He stretched her legs out before her, and within seconds had pulled the boots from her feet, the stockings following in short order.

“These are my stockings!” he said in an aggrieved yelp of accusation.

“I only borrowed them.” Emmaline scrambled about, snatching her bare feet from his grasp. “All I had were long ones, and they’re too hot.”

“Well, seems to me you raided my small-clothes drawer without my knowin’ it.” He reached for her with a threatening growl. “What else you got on that belongs to me?” he wanted to know as he pulled her across the grass by one foot.

Tessie giggled, hands on her knees, as she watched from the creek. “Don’t let him get you, Emmie.”

“You just let go of me, Gerrity,” Emmaline sputtered, her legs jerking wildly as she attempted to escape his grip. “I don’t have on anything else that belongs to you. Nothing else would fit me!” She giggled, bending to pry his fingers from her ankle.

He watched her, amusement rife upon his features, his fingers circling the fragile bones, immune to her pulling and tugging.

“Think you’re tough, don’t you?” she cried, panting as she bent first one finger back, then another, unaware that only his good humor allowed her to move even one fingertip from its place.

“Yeah, I’m sure tougher than a little bit of a citified girl in men’s stockings, anyway,” he told her teasingly.

“I stopped being citified a long time ago, and you know it, you big ugly ranch hand,” she told him, panting between each word as she vigorously struggled against the fingers circling her ankle.

“Get him, Emmie!” cried Tessie, wading closer to the bank as she enjoyed the tussle beneath the trees.

Switching her methods, Emmaline got to her knees, closer to the man who held her with a lazy grip and laughed idly at her struggles. Her hands fell against his chest, and her fingers became stiff weapons, poking at the rib cage that lay beneath the gray cotton shirt he wore.

“Oof...that’s not fair!” he yelled, a wide grin splitting his face, even as he began to laugh aloud and twist away from her marauding fingers.

“He’s ticklish, Emmie!” Tessie cried. “You’ve got him now!”

“I give, I give!” Matt’s hands waved in the air, freeing her from his grip. “You don’t fight fair, Emmaline Gerrity,” he accused her, rolling out of reach of her hands.

“Ha! Who says?” She scrambled to her feet when she saw his eyes narrow, and felt excitement twist through her belly when his mouth curled in a feral grin.

He crouched and was then on his feet, but she’d been warned, and with two running steps she was in the water, splashing with uncaring abandon, holding her leather skirt high as she escaped the long reach of his arms. Looking down at his own boots, Matt grinned.

“Think you got the best of me, don’t you?” His eyes crinkled as he watched the woman he had married turn to face him. Upstream by several yards, she was a sight to behold. Her hair escaping the braid she’d twisted it into early in the day, her hands tugging at the leather of her split skirt to keep it from the water, she stood in dappled shade and sunlight.

“Only for the moment, I’m afraid,” she admitted with a laugh. “But at least I’m cool.” She stirred the lazy current with her toes, kicking up a riffle of water with one foot. Her legs were slender and long; her skirt was well above her knees, and the soft curve of her calves was half beneath the flowing stream.

“You sure are a sight to behold, Emmaline Gerrity,” he said softly, his humor vanishing with the emotion that clutched at him. His heart had begun a steady thudding within his chest, and his hands were clenched at his sides. He gazed his fill, as though he would imprint the sight of the woman before him on his memory for all time.

“Matt?” Her whisper carried the several yards between them and brushed against his hearing. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

He shook his head. His eyes were alight with a gleaming, glittering heat, which penetrated her through the heavy atmosphere that hung between them. She waded slowly in his direction, holding her skirt higher, so that the leather would not be dampened by the water that splashed about her legs.

“Matt?” She asked once more, frown lines settling between her eyes.

He moved abruptly. “Come on, Em. I’ll give you a hand up the bank,” he offered, his gaze intent on her face.

“I’ll help her, Matthew,” Tessie offered, reaching out her small palm to her sister as she neared her side. “I can walk without holding up my pants. I’ll hold her arm and help her so she doesn’t fall down. It’s kinda muddy on the edge.”

“Thank you, Tessie,” Emmaline said, her concentration broken, a gentle smile forming on her lips as she looked down on the small sister who had rallied to the cause. “You just give me a push when I get one foot up on the bank, all right?”

“All right!” Tessie fell into place, switching to walk behind and ready to give her able assistance.

Matt watched, his palm outstretched, then bent to grasp Emmaline’s left hand as she relaxed her hold on the folds of her skirt. With a deft movement, he hauled her toward him, her feet brushing over the grass as he wound both arms about her waist, lifting her easily from the stream. He looked at Tessie, who had one small foot on the creek bank, the other at the water’s edge.

“Can you make it, short stuff?” he asked, ready to help if she spoke her need.

She nodded her head and clambered up easily, standing beside them. “I think we should get Emmie some pants to wear, Matt. Then she wouldn’t have to hold on to her skirt all the time.” She looked disapprovingly at the leather that hung to boot-top length. “Why don’t we?”

“Ladies don’t wear pants, according to your sister’s grandmother, Tessie,” Matt said with a grin.

“Heck, Emmie isn’t no lady,” the child said scornfully. “She’s just Emmie!”

“Hear that?” he asked the woman he held with a possessive grip. “You aren’t a lady. Your sister just said so.”

She made a face at him, wrinkling her nose and pushing her lips into a pout. “Is that so? Well, what would you call me, Gerrity?”

His eyes raked her features and wandered to where her collar lay open at her throat. With three buttons undone, the fabric was tugged against her flesh, exposing the soft, rounded slope of her breasts. His lids were heavy as he surveyed the pale flesh, and he breathed deeply as she hung quietly in his grasp.

“Well, Miss Emmaline,” he said in appreciative tones, “I’d guess I’d have to say that you’re all woman.”

* * *

“I can’t keep sneakin’ around to meet you,” the darkly clad man said angrily. “I don’t need you checkin’ up on me all the time.”

“Things are at a standstill,” the woman said. “When are you going to handle this? Do I need to get someone else to do it?”

“No!” The single word was harsh and loud. “I just need to know that things are going to work out all right for me,” he said, more softly. “When this is all over with, I want to be sure I get what’s coming to me.”

“How about a sample?” she whispered alluringly, sauntering closer to where he stood beneath the sheltering tree. Her hands rested against his shoulders, and her eyes lit with a teasing glance. She rose on tiptoe to place a warm kiss against the seam of his lips, a whispering touch that brought him to instant attention.

His arms surrounded her harshly, and he bent her backward, his mouth opening to capture the fullness of her own. A guttural sound was born between them, and she shrank from his touch, pushing at the width of his chest with gloved fingers.

“Hold still, woman,” he grunted harshly. “You owe me this much, anyway. You’ve been teasin’ me and tauntin’ me for weeks. I’m only takin’ a kiss or two, and damned if I haven’t got more than that coming, not to mention the money you promised me. You’re lucky I’m not askin’ you for full payment yet.”

She held herself stiffly in his arms, holding her breath as her nose rejected the sweaty odor of his unwashed body. “One kiss,” she agreed tightly, aware of her precarious situation. “We’re too much in the open here, you fool,” she muttered. “Be done with it!”

He laughed—it was a sound of dark promise—and once more forced her head back with the harshness of his openmouthed caress. He helped himself to the forbidden fruit he’d craved over the past days and nights.

“I’d give a lot for a dark night right now,” he murmured against her lips.

She pushed from him, and he released her reluctantly. “It’s broad daylight, you fool. Get on back where you belong. I don’t want to hear from you until you make a move on her. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Yeah,” he said, his hands adjusting the fit of his trousers. “That goes for both of us, lady.”

“T
ill we meet...till we meet... God be with you till we meet again.” The voices rose in harmony, echoing from the high sloped ceiling and resounding from the bare wooden walls. The unadorned pews were nearly full, ladies waving woven fans, gentlemen openly using their white handkerchiefs to mop the perspiration that slid in abundance down into their collars. Their relief at the end of the closing hymn was palpable, and the final notes rang out with vigor as the congregation readied themselves to leave the church.

Seated next to a window, Matt had savored each stirring of air that penetrated the open sash, his eyes trained with staunch discipline on the earnest demeanor of Josiah Tanner. Attending Sunday-morning church was way down on his list of chores, but it hadn’t been as bad as he feared. Matter of fact, the Reverend Tanner had made some pretty good sense. It had been years since he’d darkened a church door. He’d watched Emmaline go alone, with only Maria for company, several times, but today was different. Emmaline had asked, and for Emmaline...

He followed her down the aisle, his eyes on the flowers that bobbed atop her bonnet, his own hat in hand. Ahead lay the churchyard, where the congregation had gathered in small knots, most of them probably talking about Matt Gerrity taking up space on a church pew, he thought ruefully.

“Good to see you this morning, Mrs. Gerrity,” the preacher said cordially. “Glad to see that Mr. Gerrity could make it.”

Matt eyed him suspiciously, but could detect no malice in the remark. “Good talk you gave, Preacher,” he commented as he settled his hat in place.

Emmaline’s head turned in his direction. “Sermon, Gerrity,” she whispered.

He glared at her. “He knew what I meant, Em.”

“It doesn’t matter what it’s called, so long as the congregation heeds the message,” Josiah Tanner told them with good humor.

Emmaline nodded stiffly, and Matt grasped her elbow, hustling her down the steps toward the open wagon they’d traveled in. Tessie had made her way out of the small church ahead of them and was at the gate, another young girl at her side.

“Looks like Tessie’s located a friend,” Emmaline said softly, unbending as she caught sight of the child in earnest conversation.

“That’s the preacher’s girl. She hasn’t had much chance to see her since my mother died. I suspect you’ve managed to figure out that I’ve never been a big hand at churchgoin’,” Matt said, his eyes tender as he watched his young sister. Caught in the noontime sunshine, the little girls presented a picture that tugged at his emotions. Emotions that were more in evidence these days, he admitted to himself. Since Emmaline had entered his life.

“Maybe we can ask to take her home with us and spend the day.” Emmaline’s words were low, not meant for Tessie’s hearing, and her eyes were intent as they savored the happiness that brightened the little girl’s features.

Cold reality nudged Matt as she spoke, and he shook his head at her. “Can’t do that Em. It’s bad enough I risked trouble bringin’ you and Tessie to church. I sure can’t take a chance on totin’ somebody else’s young’n along till we get things settled.”

She sighed deeply and nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I just wish Tessie had friends closer at hand.”

The little girl whirled to greet them as they approached. “Matt, this is Rose,” she announced. “I used to see her at church when Mama...” Her voice trailed off as she spoke of her mother, and Emmaline stepped forward quickly to place a caring arm across the small shoulders.

“I’m so glad you had a chance to talk to Rose, honey,” she said warmly. “Maybe another Sunday she can come home with us after church and spend the day. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Tessie nodded and blinked at the tears that had gathered. “I’d like that, Emmie.” Subdued, she turned back to Rose, and the two little girls whispered together as they wandered toward the buggies and wagons.

“Why, if it isn’t the newlyweds!” Ruth Guismann broke away from a small group of women and approached, smiling broadly. “We’ve been meaning to come out for a visit, Emmaline,” she said. “You know the ladies made you a quilt, don’t you?”

Matt stepped back, willing to leave his bride to the tender mercies of the womenfolk, aware there would be no leaving for a few minutes, now that the clutch of females had begun to descend on Emmaline.

Hilda Schmidt hurried to Ruth’s side. “Maybe we can drive out tomorrow morning,” she suggested with a sidelong glance toward her husband. “I’ll just get Otto to harness us up a wagon first thing after breakfast.”

Ruth looked uncertain as she mulled over that idea. “I had in mind an afternoon visit,” she began. And then, with a determined lift of her chin, she amended her thoughts. “I’ll just tell Mr. Guismann that he’s going to be in charge of the store for a few hours. We can be on our way early, and back by noontime.”

Emmaline’s gaze went back and forth between the ladies, amazed at their management of her schedule. In her experience, folks waited for an invitation before visiting. Obviously, these women were unused to the more genteel method of handling things. Either way, it certainly looked like she was having company in the morning.

“I’m sure I’d love to have you visit,” she said graciously.

“Well, there’ll be a couple more coming along,” Ruth told her. Reverend Tanner’s wife will probably want to call on you, and maybe Julia Hooper, too.”

Emmaline’s mind was racing. She’d have to get Maria to make some cakes, or pastries, perhaps.

As if she’d read her mind, Hilda Schmidt reassured her. “Now don’t you worry about a thing,” she said airily. “We just want to visit for a bit and bring out the quilt the ladies made for you.”

Emmaline’s smile was distracted, but she rallied valiantly. “I believe Matt is looking to leave now,” she ventured, waving a hand in his direction.

Indeed, he had untied the wagon and horses and waited near the gate. Relieved at the excuse, she backed away, making her goodbyes in short order.

Hustling Tessie into the back, Matt tugged her dress down about her legs and made her comfortable on the quilt Maria had provided. “All set, short stuff?” he asked with a grin.

Her nod was solemn and her eyes were a bit teary, but she waved and smiled at Rose, who had retreated to stand by her mother’s side.

“Maybe Rose’s mother will bring her along tomorrow,” Emmaline said. “She could play with Tessie.”

“Tomorrow?” Matt asked. “What’s goin’ on tomorrow?”

Emmaline waved her own farewells to the ladies gathered by the gate, then turned back to Matt and smiled uncertainly. “Some of the ladies are coming to call. Hilda and Ruth said probably the preacher’s wife would want to come along.”

He was quiet for a moment. Maybe he could get something done without looking out for trouble for a change. “Suppose they’ll stay the day?” he asked idly.

She looked at him in alarm. “Surely not!”

He shrugged as he urged his horse into a ground-eating lope. “Thought they might be comin’ out to visit a spell,” he went on. “Sure would be nice for you to have a little company, wouldn’t it?”
And keep you out of trouble for a while,
he thought with furtive hope.

“Well, they’ll be there for an hour or so, anyway,” she said. Her eyes sought his face, resting on the strong profile. His hair was getting long. Maybe she should cut it a bit, even it out just above his collar. She traced the hard edge of his jaw with her gaze to where the dark line of his eyebrow ended. His lashes were heavy and stubbed, half lowered against the noon sun, and the faint shadow of his beard was dark against his skin.

He’s mine, she thought with a surprising surge of possessiveness. He might not know it yet, but one of these days, she’d tell him. The love that had been stored within her for so long spilled with abundance from her heart as she gazed her fill. The narrow line of his lip intrigued her, and the cleft in his cheek, containing a hidden dimple within amused her. Only when he was relaxed did it appear, and then not often. He’d probably laugh if he knew she admired his dimple, she decided. She leaned closer to him, one hand finding its way within the bend of his elbow to rest with a touch of intimacy against his arm.

“You all right, Em?” he asked, bending to scan her face.

“I’m fine,” she assured him brightly.

“If you say so.” His mood was distracted for a moment, as he peered into her eyes. Then, patting her hand, he concentrated on his driving, viewing the horizon once more. His eyes narrowed as he watched for movement, a flash of color, anything that would foretell danger.

It wouldn’t do to concentrate on Emmaline when there were other things to think about. But then, there wasn’t anything to stop him from enjoying the touch of her hand against his arm, the intermittent clenching of those slender fingers against his skin, even though the cotton of his shirt muffled their effect.

“Roll up my sleeve, Em,” he said gruffly, lifting his hand from hers. He kept his eyes averted, watching the road ahead as she opened his cuff and carefully and evenly turned back the sleeve to just above his elbow.

“Kinda warm today,” he allowed, flexing the muscle of his forearm as he enjoyed the coolness of the breeze.

“Let me reach the other one,” she suggested, leaning across him to complete the task.

The press of her breast against his arm as she maneuvered in the seat brought him to attention, and he grunted a muffled word beneath his breath.

“There...isn’t that better?” she asked, settling herself once more at his side.

He looked down at her and waited, but she was remarkably unaccommodating, to his mind. With another barely audible grunt, he lifted her hand from her lap and wound it through his arm, till her fingers rested once more against his bare flesh. With a final pat against the back of her hand, he left it there and returned his attention to the horse and the road before him.

* * *

Rose had been tucked into the back of the two-seated wagon, between her mother and Mrs. Hooper, her feet swinging as she anticipated a morning with Theresa. It had more than met her hopes, what with playing in the courtyard and taking turns with the shiny new jumping rope Theresa’s sister had brought with her. They’d sprawled in most unladylike postures in the shade offered by the house overhang and played with the colored jackstraws for almost an hour. And only when the sun rose almost overhead and vanquished their shady spot had they run with carefree abandon to the barn.

There Claude had been persuaded to saddle Tessie’s horse and had allowed them to take turns riding in the empty corral, keeping a watchful eye as he replaced part of the fence. Until the twice repeated “Yoo-hoo” from the house announced her imminent departure, and a crestfallen Rose had been scooped from the back of the patient horse and sent on her way.

Claude headed for the house himself, his duties as watchdog over, minding the call of Maria’s bell on the back porch. Dinnertime, his stomach told him, and not any too soon.

The disconsolate face of Theresa at the table put a damper on the meal. “I don’t see why Rose couldn’t stay for a while,” she said pitifully. “Maybe even a few days,” she added hopefully.

Emmaline’s eyes met Matt’s dark gaze and, receiving the message there, she smiled ruefully. “Not this week, Tessie.”

“Too much goin’ on,” Matt put in firmly. “Give it a rest, Tessie. We’ll have Rose come out again.”

The child subsided with little grace, and pushed the food about her plate with disgruntled movements of her fork.

“Tessie, if you can’t sit up and eat your dinner, maybe you’d better just go to your room,” Matt said finally.

Without a word, the child slid from her chair and left the dining room, her lips firmly pursed in a pout that gave silent testimony to her state of mind.

“Matt!” Emmaline’s word of appeal was waved away with one motion of his big hand.

“She has to learn, Emmaline,” he said firmly, “she can’t have her way all the time.”

“Well, you could have been a little nicer about it,” she grumbled beneath her breath.

“You both need to learn how to follow orders.” He glared at her from beneath lowered brows, then finished the meal before him, intent on heading back to his chores.

“I only promised to obey, not follow orders like a ranch hand,” she reminded him with spirit.

His sigh was patience personified. “Don’t start now, Em. I’ve got my afternoon all planned out, and it doesn’t include lookin’ out for you and Tessie. Just stay in the house, will you?”

She bit her lip. It wasn’t really fair, she supposed. Matt had to work in the hot sun, out in the western part of the ranch, rounding up several of the beef yearlings to be sent to town this afternoon. Abraham Guismann held them in a lot on the edge of Forbes Junction and then had them butchered when he needed fresh meat to sell from his store.

Any way you looked at it, it was bound to be a long afternoon for Matt and the two men who would work with him. She, on the other hand, could look forward to a quiet few hours, perhaps reading with Tessie or cutting out a new nightgown for the child, with Maria’s help.

Her mouth tilted in an apologetic smile as she watched the tall man across the table. He’d stood and leaned against the back of the chair, one hand spread against the white tablecloth as he surveyed his wife.

“I’ll stay inside and keep an eye on Tessie,” she promised, willing to ignore his spouting orders this once.

Relief rode his expression, and he nodded and straightened. “Come give me a kiss, Em,” he told her, his eyes narrowing as he made his way to the end of the table, waiting till she met him there. His gaze warmed her, sliding like thick syrup down the length of her, admiring the slim lines and rounded curves of her figure beneath the blue muslin dress she wore.

She’s a beauty, he thought as he reached for her, uncaring of Maria’s eyes as she made her way from the kitchen to clear away the remains of the noon meal.

He embraced her roughly and bent his head to capture the pink fullness of her mouth. Scooping her against him, he closed his eyes, every sense attuned to the movement of her body against his.

She leaned into his strength, her arms slipping about his neck with familiar warmth, her mouth forming itself to the heat of his caress. Inhaling his dark, masculine scent, she nestled against his hard chest, concentrating on the warm possession of his mouth.