The Unexpected Wife (11 page)

She touched her fingertips to her lips, remembering Mr. Barrington’s kiss. In that moment they had seemed to fit together very well, almost as if their bodies had been fashioned with the other in mind.

Frustrated, Abby laid her head against her pillow, then rolled on her side and blew out the lantern. She lay in the dark staring into the utter blackness. Slowly sleep crept through her limbs.

Abby had nearly drifted completely off when she heard the howl of wolves. At first she thought it a
dream and rolled on her side away from the door, hugging the blanket close to her chin.

But then she heard Mr. Barrington get out of bed. She’d not imagined the sounds. He’d heard them, too.

She sat up to the sound of him pulling on his pants and boots. Leather rubbed against the bedpost—he’d reached for his gun belt, which always stayed within arm’s reach.

Her fatigue vanished and in an instant her heart hammered against her chest. Where was he going? In the weeks she’d been here, she’d never known him to stir at night.

Steady purposeful steps echoed in the cabin as he moved to the front door. The door opened, then closed.

Abby strained to hear. There was the sound of the boys’ deep even breathing. The distant howl of a coyote.

An unsettled feeling seeped into the marrow of her bones.

Something was wrong.

In the dark, Abby felt around for her boots then slipped them on. Next, she searched for her shawl. When she found it at the base of her pallet, she tossed it over her shoulders.

If she had any sense, she’d have lit a lantern. But
Mr. Barrington had not. What she’d heard outside had not been a dream. He’d heard it, too.

Gingerly, she eased down the ladder. She’d spent enough time in this cabin to know its furnishings and layout by heart. To her left was the kitchen and to her right the bed where the boys slept.

Despite her familiarity with the room the night’s utter blackness threw off her senses and she found herself moving more slowly than normal.

She bumped hard into the front door, stubbing her toe.

Pain shot up her leg and tears flooded her eyes. “Blast,” she whispered. Gripping her toe she drew in deep, even breaths until the pain passed.

She eased her weight back down onto her injured toe, testing it, until she was certain she’d not broken it.

Slowly, she lifted the latch and cracked open the front door. Easing outside, she closed the door quietly behind her.

Abby took one step when strong arms clamped over her mouth and banded around her waist. She was dragged against a hard-muscled chest.

A
bby should have been afraid, but she wasn’t.

She was mad that someone would come onto
her
porch and accost her after all the sweat and time she’d invested. With Mr. Barrington nowhere in sight, she wondered if this cretin had ambushed Mr. Barrington, as well.

Fear sliced through her as she pictured him bleeding and injured. Desperate to find him, she did the first thing that came to mind. She drove the heel of her boot into her attacker’s shin.

Save for a soft grunt, her attacker made no sound. Instead, he tightened his hold, and, lifting her off her feet, carried her toward the barn.

Abby struggled, her shawl dropped to the porch, but her efforts accomplished nothing, other than draining her own strength. She tried to kick her as
sailant again but each time he was ready for her, sidestepping her attacks easily.

“Stop fighting me, damn it!”

At the sound of Mr. Barrington’s gruff voice, Abby froze. He half drug, half carried her across the yard to the barn. Kicking the barn door open with his foot, he pulled her inside and then closed it. He flipped her around and pressed her back against the door. She stared up into his shadowed face, just inches from hers. His hot breath brushed her cheek.

“Why did you grab me?” she whispered.

“There’s someone or something outside.”

She moistened her lips, which still tasted salty from his hand. With only her nightgown, she was very aware of her nakedness. “Who?”

“I was trying to find out when you came outside.”

She ignored the irritation in his voice. “I heard you get up and leave. I thought there was a problem.”

“There is. Now stay put.”

“Don’t you need a light?”

“No.” He eased his gun from its holster and started to move outside, his actions as graceful and lethal as a mountain lion.

Abby started to follow.

Mr. Barrington stopped. “Stay put.”

“I can help.”

“Stay.” His order sliced through the night air, cutting through any future arguments. When he was certain she’d obey, he disappeared into the night.

In the distance, the howl of wolves echoed in the dark. Abby’s heart slammed against her rib cage.

The boys! Abby remembered the boys were in the cabin alone. What if whoever or whatever was out there doubled back and took the boys? Unable to stay in the barn, Abby fumbled around until her fingers skimmed the handle of a pitchfork. Holding it high, she peeked out of the barn.

At first she didn’t see Mr. Barrington. Then she saw the glitter of moonlight on the barrel of his gun. He moved across the yard, a wraith moving as if he’d been born to roam the night.

Abby’s fingers bit into the handle of the pitchfork. Drawing in a deep breath, she watched him move into the shadows and out of sight.

Immediately, she ran across the yard toward the house, her flimsy gown billowing in the night. Quickly, she looked in on the boys. Certain they were fine, she closed the front door and stood guard.

Tense minutes passed. Finally, Mr. Barrington
strode out of the dark toward the porch. He’d already figured out she wasn’t in the barn.

He holstered his gun as he approached. “
Stay put.
What part of those words don’t you understand?”

The bunched muscles in her back relaxed at the sound of his voice. “I was protecting the boys.”

He glanced at the pitchfork. “Next time, get the gun.”

She’d forgotten all about the gun. She felt foolish. “It was too dark.”

“Lesson number one. Never come outside at night without it. Keep it under your pillow if you must. If it’s not a stranger it could just as easily be a bear.”

A bear. She’d seen a bear in the circus once. It looked soft and furry. “Was it a bear?”

“I think so.” The dark made his features unreadable, but anger singed his words.

“Do they come this close often?”

He glanced toward the moonlit horizon, his face hard. “Often enough.”

“I saw a bear in a carnival once. It looked friendly enough. It wore a red vest and a laced collar.”

He looked at her as if she’d gone daft. “They
can tear you to shreds with one swipe of their claws.”

“Oh.”

He tapped his finger against his gun handle. He reached past her for the lantern that hung by the front door. Pulling a match from his pocket he lit it.

“Maybe it won’t come back.”

“It will.”

“How can you be sure?”

“When an animal comes this close to a homestead, it’s grown bold. I start corralling the horses tomorrow, and I don’t like the idea of a bear this close to the homestead.” Buttery, warm light had Abby squinting until her eyes adjusted. Mr. Barrington held up the lantern and studied the ground.

“You’re not going after it tonight, are you?” she asked.

“No, it’s too dark, but I wanted to see if there were any tracks in the yard.” He turned and moved off the porch toward the barn and stopped.

Abby followed him. “What are we looking for?”

He knelt and pressed his fingertips into a large indentation of a claw in the dirt. “Tracks.”

Her hair fell forward as she held up her lantern and leaned forward to study the dirt. “How can you tell much? I mean, it could be another animal.”

He gently touched the imprint burrowed in the dirt. “It’s a bear. A male, judging by the size of the foot.”

“Oh.”

“He favors a paw. If he’s injured he’ll be more dangerous.”

“Good Lord, you can tell that by just one track?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell what color it is?” she asked flippantly.

He glared up at her.

She shrugged and pretended to stare harder at the dirt. “It looks like just dirt to me.”

He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I won’t be able to get a true read on these tracks until morning. Then I can follow it and find out where it came from.”

“Who taught you all this?”

He rose, his gaze aimed toward the distant horizon. “An Indian tracker for the army.”

Yet another facet to a man she knew so little about. “You’ve certainly had a checkered career.” Nervous laughter bubbled inside her. “To be honest it’s all I can do to follow street signs with a map.”

A half smile curved his lips as he turned.

However, all traces of humor vanished when he
faced her. The glow of the lantern accented the hard planes of his face. His shirt was open and the thick mat of hair curled on his broad chest. His eyes darkened with an earthy intensity that had her flesh puckering into gooseflesh. The air between them sizzled.

Her nipples hardened and her breathing grew shallow. “Is something the matter?” she said, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

Silent, his gaze moved leisurely and boldly up her body. “Your lantern.”

Self-conscious, she raised her lantern. “What about my lantern?”

“Its light makes your gown transparent.”

Matthias could not lift his gaze from the near-naked swell of Abby’s breasts. His mouth watered as he stared at the threadbare nightgown that molded to her full, taut breasts and nipples.

He flexed his fingers, praying for the strength to walk away. None came.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to hers, half hoping to see shock or outrage in her green eyes. Anything to jolt him out of this raw lust pulsing in his veins.

What he found was desire, albeit hesitant and untried, in her green eyes. She moistened her lips.
Dear Lord, she truly looked as if she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

His erection throbbed. Sanity vanished.

Matthias took the lantern from Abby and blew it out. Then in one swift move, he wrapped his arms around her narrow waist. She came willingly, encircling her arms around his neck. Her breasts strained against the fabric and pressed against his chest.

Her long hair, a rich waterfall of curls, teased the top of her waist as she tipped her head back. Her lips parted.

Matthias kissed Abby on the mouth. Her lips opened and his tongue slid into the warm, wet depth of her mouth. A soft moan rumbled in her chest, and she rubbed her flat belly against him.

He tightened his grip, threading his fingers into the silken mass of her hair. Her desire fanned his and before he thought too much, he backed her up several paces and had pressed her against the side of the barn. His legs braced apart, her thigh pressed seductively over his hardness.

Abby tipped back her head and he kissed the soft hollow of her neck. Her pulse hammered under her tender skin. Her blood raced like his.

Matthias’s hand slid down her firm thigh. He grabbed a handful of her nightgown and yanked it
up until his hand touched bare skin. He squeezed her naked buttocks. She arched, her fingers biting into his back.

He kissed the center of her collarbone, then moved south to the top of her right breast. Hindered by the fabric, he sucked her nipple through the nightgown until it hardened into a peak.

Breathless, he lifted his gaze to hers. Her eyes were half open and her gaze shrouded by the dewy haze of passion. Months of pent-up desire exploded. Consequences be damned. He’d have her now.

“Inside the barn,” he said, his voice as rough as the jagged rock of the distant mountain peaks.

She moistened her lips again, nodding. “Yes.”

He gave her buttocks one last squeeze then shoved open the barn door. “There’s a fresh bale of hay in the corner.”

She followed him to the sweet earthy hay and lay down on her back. Leaning back on her elbows, she stared up at him. Her gown was hiked up past her knees. The top four buttons were unfastened, creating a low V between her breasts. The creamy mounds created a seductive cleavage.

Matthias fell to the straw. Grabbing her behind the knees, he yanked her to him before he positioned his body between her legs. Cupping her right breast with one hand he cradled her neck with the
other. He kissed her again, devouring the taste of her. Her hands eased under his shirt up his back.

Matthias lost track of time. He didn’t know how long he kissed her, fondled her, but by the time he rose and reached for his belt buckle, his blood boiled with desire.

He unfastened the buckle and then the top three buttons. He ached for release.

Abby lowered her gaze to his pants, staring expectantly. She’d never seen a fully naked man before but in truth nothing felt more right or natural. Soon, she would understand what the women in the kitchens talked brazenly about, what they all craved so much, what Douglas had just begun to inspire in her.

The throbbing in her body was like nothing she’d ever known. She could feel her own dampness and though she didn’t understand it, knew it was right. With only nature and meager experience as her guide, she slid her hand down his flat belly. He hissed in a breath. He wanted her. And she marveled at the power of her womanhood.

Matthias reached inside his pants and pulled
it
out. For a moment she could only stare in shock and wonder. Though she understood the logic of
what was about to happen, in truth she couldn’t imagine how
it
was going to fit.

Matthias pushed up her nightgown. He draped his body over hers, only this time the tip of his manhood pressed against her soft, moist opening.

Deep in her heart, she understood that once they joined, they would in some way be bonded forever. There would be no going back for Abby.

This moment was nothing like she’d ever imagined, and yet it was better. There were no soft words or poetry, only a raw need. But she needed something from him. She wasn’t naive enough to expect words of love, but she needed to know it was
her
he was making love to.

She stroked the hard muscles of his buttocks. “Say my name,” she whispered, her voice so husky she barely recognized it.

The lust in his veins had stolen his voice, his ability to speak in clear sentences. He pressed his arousal against her opening, poised to thrust.

She wriggled, so that he fell away from her opening. “Say my name.”

The corded muscles in his neck strained as he repositioned himself. Sweat dampened his brow. Closing his eyes, he began to push inside her.

Her body wanted to feel him inside her. Her heart needed to her him say her name.

He pushed inside her. She felt the searing pain as her maidenhood tore, and all reasonable thoughts vanished. Her entire body tensed. He paused, realizing what he’d taken from her.

He began to move inside of her, his movements slow at first but quickly building to a fever pitch.

Raw need pulsed inside her.

Dear Lord, what was he doing to her? Sweat formed between her breasts.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered.

She complied, taking him inside her fully. Her body stretched and molded around him. She didn’t think she could feel more alive. Then he reached for her moist center and began to stroke.

She hissed in a breath. “What are you doing to me?”

“Shh, it’s all right.” He continued to stroke, circling her softness with expert precision. The fever inside of her grew. Her senses reeled. She teetered at the cliff of an unknown abyss.

And then, in a flash, her body exploded in sensations. She moaned and arched her back, letting the ripples wash over her body.

Mr. Barrington withdrew his hand and began to pump harder. And in the next instant, his body tensed and as he found his release, he moaned. “Elise.”

Matthias knew his blunder the instant he’d whispered Elise’s name. A bucket of cold water couldn’t have made Abby’s languid body tense faster. She went rigid.

She pressed her palms against his chest. “Get off me.”

Her voice seemed to come from a very far-off place though her lips were just by his ears.

But as he felt her struggles underneath him grow in strength he forced himself to roll off her.

Immediately, she scrambled out from under him and tugged her nightgown over her legs, now tucked under her. “You called me Elise.”

Lying on his back, he stared up at the barn’s rafters. “It was an accident.”