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Authors: Warrior Heart

BOOK: Jane Bonander
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“I didn’t want to waste time sleeping.” He lifted aside her hair and nuzzled her neck, his fingers suddenly busy with her breasts. “Tell me about your marriage to Sean, Libby.”

“What do you want to know?” she answered on a sigh.

“Why was it never consummated?”

“It’s a long story.” But he had a right to know. “I have to start at the beginning, I think, to help you understand.

“Sean was a distant relative of my father’s. Actually they were very nearly the same age. But our age difference didn’t have anything to do with … with him not sleeping with me. He discovered we were related while we were living and working the fields in the Central Valley. It was peach- picking time, and we always went where there was work. We were a migrant family. White trash, according to many, and they were right.”

Jackson quit toying with her breasts and hugged her. “Go on.”

“The day Sean showed up
,
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Oh, not that he was handsome, but he was refined and well dressed. And to me, he was rich, because he owned a boardinghouse. He actually owned property, something my father had never done. He had roots, something I wanted desperately. But most of all, he was kind to me, and polite. He had such understanding eyes, as if he knew exactly how miserable my life was. He almost got into a fight when my father took a belt to me because I hadn’t brought in enough money that day.” Libby remembered everything vividly, and it was painful.

“I was stunned when I learned that Sean wanted to take me away with him. Not that I wouldn’t have gone in a minute, but I couldn’t imagine that kind of good fortune ever happening to me. I wanted to leave. I prayed it would happen. When my father insisted on selling me, I didn’t care. When Sean agreed to pay my father’s price, I knew I would do anything for him.”

Jackson was quiet, his hands moving methodically over her bare back. “Were you happy with him?”

Libby expelled a sigh, “Yes. I was happy to be away from my family. When Sean didn’t insist on his rights as a husband, I didn’t think too much about it. I was only fourteen, after all. But as time went by, I knew there should be something more. I even approached him, something very bold for me at the time, and asked him why he didn’t share my bed.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He actually came to my bedroom that night and tried to … well, you know. Poor man. He couldn’t do it. Oh, God, Jackson, he wept in my bed.” Libby felt tears of pity even now. “He tried a few times after that. Then he just gave up. It didn’t matter to me.” She rubbed her face against Jackson’s furry chest. “I didn’t know what I was missing. After that, we lived together more like father and daughter than husband and wife. Neither of us ever brought the subject up again.”

Jackson feathered kisses over her face, her neck, her breasts. “My sweet Libby,” he murmured.

Libby touched his hair, devouring his tenderness. Her belly quivered, as if reminding her that his child grew there, and she bit into her bottom lip to keep herself from weeping with joy.

Chapter 23
23

I
t was light when she work Jackson slept soundly beside her. His beard roughened his cheeks and chin. His lashes were spiky thick and tipped with gold, and tiny wrinkles fanned the corners of his eyes. The wound on his forehead where he’d hit the table when she pushed him out of bed had begun to heal. Deep lines bracketed his mouth, which was open slightly. His lips were dry. From the cold and the wind, she thought, remembering how long he’d been out in it the day before. Her husband was no pretty boy. She grinned. She could live with that.

She snuggled against his warm body. How one man could generate so much heat, she’d never know. She had never before slept without any nightclothes. That wouldn’t go over very well at the rooming house, but for here, for now, it was wonderful.

His arm came around her, and he pulled her closer. He was hard against her stomach. “Umm,” he murmured into her ear. “I’m always horny in the morning.”

She smiled into his chest. “I remember. Before I forget, I want to see your tattoo.”

He drew his leg out from beneath the covers. Her gaze traveled to the meeting of his thighs where his manhood stood proud and tall. She almost bent to kiss it, but caught herself. How could she even think such a thing?

“Well?”

His voice startled her. “What?”

“Are you going to stare at
that
all day, or are you going to look at the tattoo?”

She laughed, a little embarrassed. “If you only knew what I almost did …”

He didn’t cover himself. “Tell me.”

“No,” she argued. “Let me see the tattoo.”

He covered his leg with a pillow. “Not until you tell me what you almost did.”

Her cheeks got so hot she was almost dizzy. “I couldn’t tell you, Jackson. You’d think I was . . . was immoral.”

He fingered her breast. “Now I
really
have to know.”

She couldn’t look at him. “You’d think I was terrible, really you would.”

“Unless you were thinking about biting it off—”

She interrupted him with a jab to the ribs. “Of course I wasn’t thinking that.”

He continued to stroke her breast, arousing her. “Anything else will only make me hornier than I already am. Trust me.”

Still unable to look at him, she said, “I was almost tempted to … to kiss it.”

“I’d like that.” His voice was deep and husky.

Shocked that he was so casual with the idea, she asked, “People actually do that sort of thing?”

“Whatever people want to do with each other is never off limits, Libby, as long as they both consent.” He whipped off the pillow. “Now. Do you want to see my tattoo?”

Nodding, she got to her knees and bent over him. There it was. A teardrop—or raindrop, as he’d told her—exactly like Dawn’s. It didn’t appear to be as large as Dawn’s, but then, his knee was so much bigger. “Well. I’ll be,” she murmured. “It’s not that big. It’s no wonder I didn’t see it that morning.”

He shook with quiet laughter. “Have you any idea what I was thinking about that morning?”

She traced the tattoo with her fingers. “I’m not sure I want to know.”

“You.”

She dragged her gaze from his firm, hairy thigh and looked at him. “Really?”

“Oh, yes.” His answer was enthusiastic. “I was trying to imagine what your nipples looked like. I’d seen them pucker against your dressing gown the night before and couldn’t get the image out of my head.”

“I thought you were too drunk to remember.”

“A man is never too drunk to think about nipples,” he assured her with a rakish grin. “I imagined yours were nearly as pale as your skin.” He cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “And I was right.”

The lush heaviness returned to her lower belly, and she moved to the head of the bed, flung one leg over his hip, and sighed. “How am I going to get any work done, feeling this way?”

“You don’t have to work while we’re here, remember? The only thing I want is for you to entertain me.” His hand roamed her bottom. “And believe me, Libby girl, I’m easily entertained.”

She bit back a moan of pleasure as his fingers found her. “So I’ve noticed.”

“You’re already wet.” His voice was a seductive whisper against her cheek.

And she was nearly ready to shatter into pieces. “So you really think I’m going to have your baby?” She felt languid, waiting for the sensation to build.

He kissed her—a deep, wet, open-mouthed union of their tongues. “I know you are.”

She wanted to believe it, too. “I don’t see how you can tell—”

“Shhh,” he soothed, gently rubbing her with his fingers. “Don’t talk. Feel.”

It did feel wonderful, but— “You shouldn’t have to—”

“Shhh. I want to watch you. Don’t fight it.”

Fight it? She spread her legs, feeling wanton. She didn’t think she could fight it if she wanted to. And she didn’t.

Later they stayed under the covers and talked. Jackson told her about his suspicion of Ethan.

Libby shook her head and sighed. “It’s almost hard for me to believe that Ethan had a hidden life. I knew he went to Eureka nearly every month, but I always assumed it was on business.”

“Dawn’s trust fund is gone,” Jackson repeated. “I wonder how much more he embezzled.”

Gripped by a terrible thought, Libby raised herself onto her elbow. “You didn’t suspect that because Ethan and I had been seeing each other, that I knew anything about his embezzling, did you?”

He brought one of her curls to his face and inhaled. “No. I never did. I have to admit that I didn’t know what I would find when I rode up to your rooming house that first day. I wondered if Dawn Twilight was your hired help, as she’d been at that other place, but the moment I saw her, I knew she was loved. I knew things were different.”

“And you knew then that you were going to take her away from me.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

She turned toward him and smiled into his furry chest. “And look at us now.” Her thoughts again turned to Ethan.

“And you think Ethan is responsible for the poisoning of all those sheep?”

“Yes, I do. The first day I was called out to Mateo’s, I found three sets of horseshoe prints. One set was made by a Tennessee high-stepper. That’s an unusual breed in these parts. Most ranchers and cowhands use cow ponies. The other night, the night of the wedding, Ethan Frost left the jail on a high-stepper.”

Libby rubbed his chest. “All the evidence against him is circumstantial, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“So what do we do now?”

He raised her chin with his forefinger and smiled at her. “We?”

“He trusts me, Jackson. I mean, we’re still … he still thinks we’re friends. Maybe I can find out something that would help.”

Jackson’s mouth came down on hers, and he kissed her hard. When he broke the kiss, he looked at her, his expression stern. “You will do nothing of the sort, Mrs. Wolfe, my wife, the mother of my unborn child. Promise me you won’t. Promise.”

Her heart swelled with love and pride. “If you say so, my darling.” She smiled to herself as she cuddled against him.
Darling.
It sounded so very natural to call him her darling. Oh, but she did love him, didn’t she? The reality didn’t frighten her, didn’t cause her any pain at all. He might never return her love, but he was tender and concerned, and when he made love to her, she could almost believe he actually did love her.

Their time at the cabin was over too quickly. And even though it had snowed, it wasn’t enough to snow them in. Libby was a bit disappointed, because she knew that once they were among Jackson’s family again, their idyllic life together would never be the same. Having people around would inhibit her.

They bundled up for the ride home in the open wagon. Libby had never seen such beauty as the snow and frost-covered trees. The boughs of the pines, weighed down with snow, would move with every breeze, spraying finely sifted granules into the cold air. Sunshine glittered off the white ground, reminding Libby of millions of sparkly diamonds. Her breath clouded in the icy air, and she pulled up her scarf to cover her mouth and nose.

Jackson tugged her closer. “I don’t know if I can get to the ranch without wanting you again.”

She knew the feeling. The lusty sensation of his lovemaking was with her every waking minute. “It’s too cold to make love, I’m afraid.”

He treated her to a grin. “That’s what you think.”

“Jackson!” She punched him lightly.

“I mean it. Look at the blankets in the back.”

She turned on the seat and saw the stack of quilts. Her body was preparing already. “Oh, we couldn’t … not outside.” She swung around to face him again. “Could we?”

His arm came around her. “Who’s to stop us?”

So far they’d made love on a bear rug on the floor, in the bed, on a kitchen chair, and standing up with her legs wrapped around his waist. He was such a clever, inventive man …

They rode into the yard, Libby blissfully in love and satisfied. He’d been so eager for her that he’d barely had time to unbutton his fly. She’d felt the excitement build the moment she raised her skirts. Huddled beneath the blankets on the wagon bed, they’d made breathless, exciting love.

Her gaze roamed the ranch. The snow was gone at this level, but the air continued to have a bite to it.

Her feeling of well-being dissipated the moment she saw the expression on Susannah’s face as she left the house and hurried toward them.

Libby let Jackson help her from the wagon. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it Dawn?”

Susannah drew them into the house. “No. Nothing like that.” She gave Jackson a telegram. “This came for you yesterday. We probably shouldn’t have opened it, but your father was concerned.”

Jackson read it, then met Libby’s gaze.

Her heart leaped. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s from Vern. Danel Mateo has been killed,” Jackson answered, glaring down at the wire in his hands.

Libby sank into a chair by the kitchen table. “Oh, no.”

‘I’ve got to get back,” he told her.

“I’m coming with you.”

With a shake of his head, he said, “You stay here with Dawn.”

She stood and placed her fists on her hips. “I’m coming with you, Jackson, so don’t try to talk me out of it.”

He mumbled a mild curse. “Mother, can’t you talk some sense into her?”

Susannah gave him a skeptical smile and merely raised her eyebrows. “I’m afraid not, dear. She’s
your
wife. But I think you should let Dawn Twilight stay.”

Libby’s first reaction was to disagree. “But she should be home by the end of the week or she’ll miss her lessons.”

“Why not let her attend school with Katie for a week or so? Then, when you have this problem solved, we’ll have a big party to introduce you and Dawn to the neighbors.”

Libby opened her mouth to say no, then closed it. “I—I’ve never been away from her that long.” She would miss her daughter terribly.

“Then maybe you should stay,” Jackson suggested.

Libby reined in her emotions. “No. I’m coming with you.”

“Mama! Papa!”

Dawn raced out from Katie’s bedroom and flung herself into her mother’s arms, then her father’s.

“Did you have a nice honeymoon at the cabin?” She beamed up at them.

Libby felt herself color under Susannah’s scrutiny. “Now, who said it was a honeymoon, dear?”

“Well, you went off by yourselves. What else would you call it?”

“Whatever you want to call it, we had a lovely time. We wish you could have come with us.”

Jackson tweaked his daughter’s nose. “Oh, no, we don’t.”

Libby’s blush spread, and she caught Susannah watching her, a contented, almost joyous expression on her face. Suddenly she had the feeling that she and Jackson had been sent to the cabin on purpose. Had their problems been that transparent?

To cover her discomfort, she asked, “Would you like to stay with Katie for a while and attend school with her?”

Dawn’s eyes got big. “You mean it?”

“I have to get back to Thief River,” Jackson informed her, “and since your mother insists on joining me, we thought you might like to stay here for a while.”

Dawn’s face lit up, then darkened as she frowned. “I want to stay with Katie, but …” Her look was shy. “What about Mumser? Won’t he miss me terribly?”

Libby smiled. “It wouldn’t be the other way around, would it?”

Dawn returned a sheepish grin. “I do miss him. I hope he remembers who I am when I get home.”

Jackson drew her into a fond embrace. “How could he forget you? You’re the only person who sneaks him treats from the table and lets him sleep under the covers at bedtime. He won’t forget you in a mere couple of weeks.”

Libby glanced outside, noting that it was almost dark.

“When should we leave?”

“First thing in the morning,” he answered.

That night, although they were both exhausted and had decided they wouldn’t make love, it was inevitable that they would. Once in bed, their bodies touching, their need grew greater than their exhaustion.

Trying to be quiet, Jackson entered her, clamped her lips to his, and rocked with her on the bed. Bliss shattered inside her, sending a quivering through her. They fell asleep, locked in each other’s arms with Jackson still inside her.

Stifling a yawn, Susannah sat up and pulled on her robe, searching for her slippers with her feet.

From behind her, Nathan asked, “Is it time to get the children up?”

Susannah smiled.
Children.
No matter how old the child was, it would always be a child to a parent. “I thought I’d make sure they were awake.”

Tugging at the sash on her robe, he toppled her backward. He loomed over her in the dusky light. “You can’t leave this room until you kiss me.”

She drew his face to hers and they kissed. Years of practice had not made their kisses stale, and even now Susannah desired the man who had rescued her from a living hell.

She raised her head and rested on an elbow. “It’s been almost a week since we made love,” she reminded him.

His hand roamed her hip. “I know. And watching Jackson and Libby at dinner last night made me hornier than hell.”

Susannah rubbed his chest, loving the hair that grew there. “Sending them to the cabin worked, didn’t it?”

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