Rebecca Hagan Lee - [Borrowed Brides 01] (16 page)

She didn’t pretend not to understand. Again she shook her head.

“It’s a miracle Joy was ever conceived,” Reese muttered into the hollow of her neck.

It
was
a miracle, Faith thought. She couldn’t imagine her mother and father ever doing anything like this. She clenched her fists. Her fingers ached with the need to tangle themselves in his dark, hair and pull him closer. She wanted him to touch her, but more than that, she wanted to touch him, to explore the magnificent body he’d shown her.

“Is this your only gown?” Reese’s question brought her attention back to him.

“No,” she whispered.

“Is it new?” He nuzzled her neck.

“No.”

“Good.” He moved his hands from her back to her front and traced a line from her neck to the embroidered edge of her gown. Anchoring his fingers in the flannel, he ripped the offending garment from neckline to hem. “We won’t be needing this.”

Faith gasped in shock. He had ripped away her nightgown and exposed her nakedness. Her gaze shot up, and she opened her mouth to speak, to tell him what she thought of his barbarian behavior. But the expression of total admiration on his face stopped her. His eyes smoldered. He looked her over from head to toe. She reddened under his scrutiny, but she was warmed and encouraged by it as well. Reese Jordan was seeing what she had to offer and he did not find her lacking. The expression in his eyes gave her confidence, made her bold. He had ripped away her nightgown and uncovered her secret self. There was no reason to hide.

She placed her palms against his chest.

He froze. He hadn’t expected that.

His skin was hot. Incredibly hot. She smoothed her hands lightly over his flesh, searching for those beguiling nipples. The muscles of his chest contracted under her touch, rippling beneath her fingers. Faith found what she had been searching for. She touched them, grazing the buds with her fingertips. The tiny nubs hardened instantly.

Reese bit back a groan. He hadn’t expected that, either. His hands began an exploration of their own, leaving her neck, moving lower, mimicking her hands, until they found what they sought. He cupped her breasts, feeling their weight and shape. He smoothed his palms over them, teasing the tips with his thumbs. Her nipples hardened in response.

She closed her eyes. Her teeth caught at her bottom lip. She sucked in a ragged breath.

“Look at me,” he urged. “Look at us.”

Faith forced her eyes to open, forced herself to look.

The sight was shocking yet titillating. Her hands, white against his bronzed chest, teased and toyed with his nipples. His hands, dark against her fair skin, caressed her breasts. The color rose in her cheeks, stained them a vivid scarlet, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands continued to explore, as she copied his movement.

Catching both of her hands in his, Reese dipped his head and trailed his tongue along the crevice between her breasts. She smelled of lavender, perspiration, and woman. The scent of her teased him, taunted him, until the swelling in his groin became almost unbearable. He pushed at one breast, then the other. He touched one nipple with his tongue.

Faith jerked her hands from his grasp and tangled them in his thick black hair, holding his head against her breasts. Her whole body leaped in response as the myriad sensations, like tiny electrical charges, raced through her igniting every nerve ending.

Reese felt the response and concentrated on his task. He touched her with his fingers, tasted her with his tongue, lightly nipped her with his teeth, and sucked with his mouth, lavishing his attention first on one roseate peak and then the other. He worshiped her lovely white breasts, devoting careful consideration to the hard, little points, leaving them moist and gleaming in the lamplight.

He slid his hands down her ribcage, over the slight concave of her belly, into the profusion of curls at the juncture of her thighs. Reese massaged the mound, then probed the soft folds with his fingers, seeking admission to the moist recesses.

Faith clamped her thighs together. The white heat of passion pooled beneath his questing fingers. She was afraid. No one had ever touched her where he was touching. One of his fingers slipped through her defense. It probed the soft, sensitive folds.

She was tight. God, she was so tight. His mind reeled at the thought of entering her. His burgeoning length was rock hard and painful. He wasn’t sure he could wait much longer. He wanted to bury himself in her wonderful depths, to plant his seed in fertile ground.

“How long has it been?” he breathed.

“How long?” she parroted dumbly, unable to comprehend the meaning of his words when his hands were doing such wonderful things to her. She opened her legs a little wider, allowing him access. She moved restlessly, seeking…something.

“Have you…slept…with a man?” He ground out the words. “Lately?”

She shook her head, but in answer or in passion, he couldn’t tell. And he wanted, needed, to know.

“Have you been with a man since your husband died?” Perspiration beaded on his lip with the effort to control his raging desire. He moved his fingers inside her, willing her to answer.

“No!” She gasped at the pleasure-pain his fingers wrought. “Never!”

He had his answer. He withdrew his fingers and crushed her lips with his own. He skimmed her teeth with his tongue and explored her mouth, teasing, tasting.

She kissed him back, eagerly, feverishly following his tongue with hers, learning the rhythm of desire. Her hands fluttered over him, lightly touching, tracing his shoulders, his hair, his rib cage, before resting on his lean hips. She could feel that hard male part of him pressing against her, arrogantly demanding entrance. A raw, aching, need burned where he touched her and spread through her stomach to her breasts. She urged him forward.

The feel of her hands on his sensitive flesh ignited Reese. He moved between her thighs, placed his hands on her waist and pulled her to him. He groaned as she cuddled closer, her body cradling his arousal. His arms and legs quaked with the need for release. She squirmed against him. There was no reason to delay. She was ready.

His lips left hers. He dipped his head and caught one distended nipple in his mouth. He nipped at it, gently, carefully, as he moved his hips closer. Tremors shook his arms as he braced himself above her. He let go of her nipple and rested his forehead against her breast. “Now,” he rasped, “put your legs around me. Now!”

Faith obeyed him instinctively, locking her legs around his waist. He surged forward, into her moist sheath. “God!” He groaned, in ecstasy.

She screamed.

He felt the barrier. “Damn you, damn you, damn you,” Reese repeated the litany of curses as he withdrew slightly, then thrust into her again, harder this time. He filled her completely, shattering the stubborn barrier and all his foolish illusions.

Faith cried out a second time. He captured her mouth with his, smothering her protests. She unlocked her legs from around him and tried to pull away. He pushed closer, immobilizing her with his greater weight. “Be still, dammit,” he whispered harshly against her mouth. “Your squirming is making it worse! Be still!” Reese fought to maintain control.

His body strained with the effort. He tried to stop, but that control was beyond him. He had waited too long, wanted too much, and dammit, she had brought this on herself.

Her arms went around his neck. Her legs tightened around his hips. She gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut, and pressed her face against his shoulder. Her tears dampened his skin. Her nails carved tiny crescents in the back of his neck, but she held on as he lifted her hips with his hands and began to move. Slowly at first, then faster.

The pain subsided to a dull ache, then disappeared completely as a new, different ache took its place. She moved instinctively, matching his thrusts with thrusts of her own. She listened as they matched the sound and motion of the train, the blood roaring in her ears as loud as the train rumbling down the track. She clung to Reese, straining to grasp something just beyond her reach. She pressed closer to him, her mouth seeking his. She licked the salt from his lips, then thrust her tongue through the seam. Her mouth began to imitate the motion of their bodies. The roaring was louder in her ears. She began to shiver uncontrollably, her muscles contracting painfully. Then suddenly she was surrounded by pleasure. She called out his name. In surprise. In wonder. In glorious, heart-stopping, release.

Reese felt the trembling of her body, heard her call his name and sigh in blissful surrender. He paused, then allowed his body to have its way, moving in and out, faster and faster, until…

Her name was a guttural cry, wrung from the very depths of his body. He shuddered in her arms and spilled himself inside her warm, welcoming body.

Faith smiled shyly up at Reese. She had never dreamed what went on between a man and a woman could be so magnificent, so unbelievably beautiful. The wonder of it took her breath away.

They lay sprawled across the big bed. She stretched, luxuriating in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Her toes touched the calf of his leg. She was brimming over with emotions, and she wanted to share them with the man who had taken her to the stars. Faith wiggled her toes against his leg to get his attention.

Reese jumped as if she’d burned him, then moved away. He looked down at her, but he didn’t smile back. His eyes were harsh, their depths burning with an angry light.

He studied her. She looked like a wanton. Her eyes were soft. Her lips were red and pouty, bruised from his kisses. The tender skin on her neck and breasts showed signs of abrasion from his beard. Her black hair fanned out over her pillow. It had been braided. When had he unbraided it? She smiled at him, stretching sinuously, like a sated kitten. Well-fed, contented. Well-loved. He could almost hear her purr. And why shouldn’t she purr with satisfaction? Why shouldn’t she be content? She’d used him. Played him for a fool. Lied. Damn her for the deceptive, little bitch she was! He had been duped!

“Unless there’s been another virgin birth I haven’t heard about, you owe me an explanation. And, lady, it had better be good.” His voice sliced through her veil of rosy contentment like an Arctic wind.

“I don’t understand,” she said warily as she reached for the sheets.

“You don’t? Well, let me explain it.” He pinned her to the mattress with his frosty gaze. “Joy is not your daughter! You are not a widow! There is no Champ Collins! And that wedding ring you’re wearing is a fake!
You
are a fake,
Mrs.
Collins. Is that clear enough for you to understand?”

“How did you find out?” Faith’s eyes widened, and the color drained from her face. “How long have you known?” She clutched the covers to her chin as she whispered the questions.

“Oh, that’s rich!” He got up from the bed and began to pace, unfazed by his lack of clothing. “I may have been taken in by your saintly widow act, but I know enough about women to know a virgin when I bed one.”

“Oh.” Her reply was barely audible, but Reese heard it and it added fuel to his fire of anger.

“Yes.
Oh
.” He stopped pacing and whipped around to face her. “Did you think I’d be too inexperienced to know the difference?” That idea made him almost as angry as her deception. “Dammit, woman”―he refused to say her name―“if I had wanted an untutored, green, inexperienced, wide-eyed, virgin, I’d have advertised for one!”

She seemed to disappear before his eyes, to blend right into the bed. She pulled the covers tighter.

That irritated him. “Don’t bother.” He flung the words at her. “I’ve seen all you’ve got to offer.”

She looked as if a slap would have been kinder than the words he threw at her. Tears welled up in her eyes. He had spoiled the most beautiful experience of her entire life. He had ruined it.

Reese saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes and the stricken expression on her face. “Damn!” he said. “Don’t start with the tears. It’s too late for that.”

She wrapped the sheet around her and swung her legs off the bed.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I thought I heard Joy,” came the timid reply.

“Get back in bed.” He reached for his trousers. “I’ll go.” He slipped on his clothes and boots and stalked out the door.

Faith rolled over in the huge empty bed. She curled up into a ball and let the tears roll down her face. She cried hot, burning, silent tears. She cried until there were no tears left, then lay awake, waiting, listening for Reese’s return.

At dawn, she climbed out of bed and tiptoed into the washroom. There was no sign of Reese. She bathed quickly with cold water, hastily washing away the traces of his lovemaking. She finished bathing and tiptoed back to the bedroom. After buttoning herself into her old, black silk, she began to pack her meager belongings.

* * *

From the rear porch of the railroad car, Reese watched the first pink streaks lighten the sky. He had sat outside in the freezing cold for hours, watching the landscape roll by, hoping the chill wind would cool his burning anger.

God, he dreaded facing her this morning. His head ached, and his throat burned from the biting cold wind, the lack of sleep, too much bourbon, and too many cigars. And damn, he was still angry. Angry at her, but mostly, angry at himself because he had allowed this to happen. He had been taken in by a pair of big innocent gray eyes. She told him she was a widow and he believed her.

Simple as that. Why would she lie to him? Why? For money? She needed money. Badly. Desperately. Why else would a virgin sign a contract like the one he’d offered her? Until tonight, she had been a virgin. A nest-building, ring-wanting, let’s-get-married-in-a-church virgin. He had spent the majority of his adult years avoiding such women, and now, he had allowed himself to be caught. Trapped. Betrayed. Tricked. By a virgin with a pedigree a mile long. Why hadn’t he learned his lesson about ladies with pedigrees? Hadn’t Gwendolyn taught him anything?