Keegan's Lady (41 page)

Everyone stood expectantly over the lovely new bathtub that had just arrived from Montgomery Ward and Company, their ears straining for any sound that might possibly be a gurgle of water.

"If this isn't a fine how-do-you-do," Ace bit out "I can't believe I spent all that money—I even built a gas water heater, for Christ's sakes—and now the damned plumbing won't work."

Joseph gave vent by kicking a leg of the tub. "Why that surprises you, I don't know. Name me one thing in this goddamned house that worked the first time around. Remember the chimney?"

"Shut up!"

Joseph winked at Caitlin. "With the first light rain, the mortar dissolved. We woke up in the morning to a mushy rock pile."

Ace shot him a glare. "It's fine now, isn't it?" He followed his brother's example and kicked the bathtub. "I'll get the damned plumbing to work."

"One of us could use the tub for a bed," Esa said with a chuckle. "At this rate, it'll be a year before we get the bedrooms finished."

"I said shut up!" Ace ground out between partially clenched teeth. His eyes fairly glittered as he glanced at each of them, Caitlin included. "Now is no time to joke."

Lucky chose that moment to waddle into the room. He headed straight for Ace's black pant legs, whereupon he began to rub and arch his back, depositing a goodly amount of hair on the jet denim. Ace stared down at him as if he were contemplating murder. Caitlin jumped forward to pick up her cat. Ace shot out a hand to grasp her shoulder.

"Leave him be. He's fine."

"But he's getting hair all over—"

"I can see that," he said in a more mellow tone. He bent to scoop Lucky up in a large hand. With a twist of his wrist, he put the cat nose-to-nose with him. "You and I have an understanding, don't we, Lucky?" Ace glanced at Caitlin. "He sheds and I wear it."

Caitlin hugged her waist, her gaze fixed on her hapless kitty. Lucky looked around at everyone with badly crossed eyes. Joseph chuckled.

"That has got to be the dumbest-looking animal I've ever seen."

"No look to it," Esa inserted. "He is dumb."

"He can't help it," Caitlin said. "His brains got rattled."

"What brains?" Joseph asked.

Ace drew the cat to his chest and began scratching him behind the ears. Returning his gaze to the unproductive waterspout, he said, "Right now, I'm not sure I could compare my intelligence with Lucky's and notice a measurable difference. Goddamned bathtub, anyway. It should work. The windmill pumps the water up to the attic, and force of gravity is supposed to bring the water down."

"Maybe you misread the book," Joseph suggested.

Ace shot him a warning look. "I'm not illiterate, Joseph. I followed the directions exactly."

Caitlin gathered her courage. "I'm just venturing a guess, but I think the lack of water is probably due to an unconnected section of pipe somewhere between here and the cistern. If they're not all level . . ." She let her voice trail away and lifted her hands. "Well, as you know, water runs downhill. If there's a low section, it'll pool there and possibly leak. If the ground gets soft and there's enough pressure, the pipe joints could separate."

"Are you suggesting we dig up all that pipe?" Ace asked in an ominous tone.

"It was just a thought." She shrugged. "You could probably just look for damp earth, and start digging there. I doubt you'd have to uncover all the pipe."

Fifteen minutes later, the men were unearthing pipe. It wasn't long before they found an underground leak in the joints where the soil had become saturated and allowed the junction to settle and become disconnected.

"You probably should have lined your ditch with gravel," Caitlin pointed out.

Ace narrowed an eye at her. "Are you saying we need to dig it all back up and redo it?"

Caitlin stared down at the unearthed section of ditch for a long moment. "Heavens, no."

The following morning, Ace went to town for a wagonload of gravel. When he returned to the house, he plopped two white boxes on the table and insisted Caitlin open them. Inside she found three new dresses, one of which was the lovely blue one that she and Patrick had admired in the dress shop window. Beneath the dresses were several undergarments, four new chemises, two pairs of lace garters, three new sets of bloomers, two petticoats, and a half-dozen pairs of silk hosiery.

It had been so long since she'd gotten any new clothes, her hands trembled when she touched the garments. She'd never owned silk stockings in her life. "Ace, you shouldn't have," she said in awe. "You must have spent a small fortune."

"It'll be worth it to see you in that pretty blue dress," he said offhandedly. "Why don't you go try it on?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't. It should be saved for special occasions. For going to church or into town shopping. That sort of thing. I'd ruin it wearing it at home."

Caitlin gathered up her new clothing and spirited it away to the bedroom where she hung each dress carefully on a hanger and covered the lot with a sheet so it wouldn't gather dust. When she returned to the front of the house, there was another package on the table, this one a large lumpy one wrapped in brown paper.

Ace was standing between the kitchen and the living room, leaning against the archway. He held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. "I forgot it in the wagon. It's for you. Open it."

Caitlin couldn't imagine what else he might have gotten her. Frankly, she found his generosity a little overwhelming. When a man gave a woman gifts, he usually expected something in return.

Hands shaking, she carefully untied the string and peeled away the paper. Inside was a myriad collection of yard goods. Scads of yellow gingham, just like she'd gotten on sale last winter for curtains. There were smaller amounts of other yardage, the colors similar to those she'd used in her braided rugs and potholders.

"You had everything fixed so pretty at the other place," he said gruffly. "I thought maybe this might seem more like home to you if you had curtains and rugs and stuff, like over there."

Tears pricked Caitlin's eyelids as she lifted the folded yardage to look at all the colors he'd chosen. He'd remembered nearly every hue in her rag rugs. He'd also gotten her embroidery thread, needles, a pattern book, hoops and cloth on which to do cross-stitch. She lifted her gaze to his.

"Jesus. Don't cry," he said.

He sounded as if it would be a disaster if she shed one tear. "Thank you, Ace." Caitlin carefully folded the paper back around the dry goods and retied the string. "In my idle time, I'll enjoy keeping busy making things to brighten it up around here."

"Caitlin, what's wrong?"

She blinked and forced a smile. "Nothing. This was very—thoughtful. Thank you."

She was lying. Everything was wrong. He'd remembered every detail about the things she'd made and bought all her favorite colors. No one, not even Patrick, had ever paid that much attention to what she liked. Patrick had bought her things. Lovely things. Sometimes, he'd worked weeks to get them. But he'd chosen items that he liked, never once stopping to think that she might have preferred a green dress instead of pink, or checks instead of polka dots. She had appreciated the gifts no less. It was just that no one had ever before tried so hard to get her what she liked.

It was a little thing. A silly, unimportant thing. Only it wasn't unimportant to her. Or silly. Ace made her feel . . . special, that was how he made her feel. And it scared her to death. She felt as if he were dangling all her wishes and dreams before her. All she had to do was reach out and grab them. Only to do that, she would be stepping into his arms.

That night after supper, Ace invited her on a moonlight walk. A little nervous because they were so seldom alone except at night when they went to bed, Caitlin nearly jumped out of her skin when he seized hold of her left hand and drew her to a stop. For a long moment, he just looked down at her, his eyes glowing speculatively. Then he glanced at the onyx and diamond ring on her linger.

"I've been wanting to take my ring back," he said huskily.

"Oh." Caitlin reached to remove the piece of jewelry. "By all means. It's lovely. But it's rather large, and I worry about losing it."

He stopped her from removing the ring from her linger. "Allow me."

With a slight smile, he slipped the ring from her hand, then bent to kiss the backs of her knuckles. "There. That's much better."

Caitlin's eyes widened when she saw that he had replaced his ring with another, a very large, sparkling diamond. She blinked, absolutely certain she couldn't be seeing what she thought she was seeing. "Oh, my." She drew her hand from his and held it up to the moonlight. "Holy mother and all the saints. Are you crazy, Ace? It's the size of a hen egg!"

He gave a low chuckle. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Caitlin dragged her gaze from the ring to his dark face. "I can't accept it. You must have spent a—"

"Small fortune," he finished for her. "And you're worth every cent." He caught her chin in his hand. His eyes glinted with determination as he bent his head. "I think it's time I got a kiss. Don't you?"

Caitlin could think of a dozen reasons why that might not be a champion idea, but he didn't allow her time to voice them. His silken mouth settled over hers, his breath warm and steamy and sweet with the taste of coffee. His large hands came to rest at her waist, drawing her close against the hard length of his body.

She felt as if he waged an attack on all her senses at once. His chest brushed lightly over the tips of her breasts, sending ribbons of electricity trailing down her spine to pool like fire in the pit of her stomach. With the tip of his tongue, he tickled the sensitive inner edges of her pursed lips, trying to coax them apart.

Remembering Bess's description of her first kiss—of how the young man had thrust his tongue in her mouth and nearly made her vomit—Caitlin braced herself, making tight fists on the front of her husband's shirt. Unless he forced the issue, she was determined not to open her mouth. Exchanging slobber with someone didn't strike her as a highly appealing activity.

After a moment, Ace drew back slightly, his gaze twinkling in the moonlight. Behind him, aspens that grew along the creek swayed like spangled dancers in the wind. Caitlin gazed up at him, her heart going kerwhump—kerwhump—kerwhump. She could tell by his expression that he wasn't wholly satisfied with her response.

"Caitlin, have you been kissed very many times?"

Except for their wedding kiss, she'd suffered through the experience only once, but that one time had been so awful, she figured it counted for a thousand. "Mmm," she murmured noncommittally.

"I see," he said, his tone implying that he didn't believe her for a second. "How would you feel about a little . . . friendly instruction to perfect your execution?"

Caitlin took a deep breath for courage. "I'm not going to let you poke your tongue in my mouth. The very idea is disgusting."

The dimple in his right cheek flashed as his lips lifted in a smile. "Put that way, I have to admit it does sound disgusting."

"I'm glad we agree."

He arched one dark eyebrow. Caitlin had known him long enough to realize that boded ill. "Kissing properly is a very important prelude to lovemaking," he said huskily. "If you don't learn how to do it properly, it's very unlikely you'll ever want to do more."

Caitlin thought that was indeed a possibility.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "Allow me to direct you, hm? If I do anything you find disgusting, tap me on the shoulder."

Caitlin clenched her teeth. His smile deepened. Grasping her by the chin, he pressed in at her jaw joints, gently but firmly, with his thumb and forefinger. To lesson the discomfort of his grip, she had no choice but to open her mouth slightly. He bent his dark head and settled his firm, silken lips over hers. Just as she had feared, the next instant his tongue came into play, tickling the inside of her lips, tracing the shape of her teeth. When he touched the tip of his tongue to hers, she moaned and thumped his shoulder with the heel of her hand.

No response. She thumped him harder. This time, he responded, but instead of lifting his head, he deepened the kiss by drawing sharply with his mouth. Her tongue, which she'd curled back against her tonsils, was sucked forward. She tasted coffee and the steamy essence of man. Then she forgot everything but the sensations.

Making fists in his shirt, she leaned against him, opening her mouth wider, accepting his thrusts. An odd, heavy, excited feeling rolled through her. Her heart started to pound even more wildly. She developed an ache low in her belly. And then her legs felt as if they turned to water. Water that defied the laws of gravity and surged uphill to the juncture of her thighs, making everything within her feel liquid and strangely hot.

Ace released her chin to encircle her with his strong arms. Caitlin was glad of that, for she was no longer certain she could stand without the support of his body. He bent slightly at the knees and drew her up along his torso, his hips pushing forward to grind against hers. Caitlin gasped and then moaned at the sensations that I rocked her.

When he finally drew his mouth from hers, she was breathless and light-headed. Acutely aware of their hearts pounding, his a sturdy thrum, hers an erratic patter, she gazed stupidly at the aspens that swayed behind him.