“That lantern stays with the barn.” Without waiting for her response, he took the lantern from her. He blew out the flame and hung it from the peg by the door.
Without the small flickering flame, the night seemed to swallow them up. Clouds had drifted in front of the moon, and she could barely see a foot in front of her. “Then how do you propose we find our way back?”
“I know every root and gulch on my property.”
“I can’t say the same.”
Strong fingers captured her elbow. “Don’t worry, I’m right behind you.”
The warmth of his fingers against hers sent shock waves up her arm. Her mind drifted and for a moment she imagined those same hands caressing the underside of her jaw, unbuttoning her blouse, and touching her naked skin.
Shaking off the image, Abby lifted her skirts and started toward the house, taking one careful step at a time. Icy snow crunched under her feet seconds before she slipped. She fell back hard and would have hit the ground if Mr. Barrington hadn’t had a hold of her.
The ice made regaining her footing all the more difficult. Instinct had her grabbing onto his coat lapels and pulling herself upright. She found herself facing his dimpled chin, her knuckles pressing against his muscled chest. Their lips were only inches apart.
His heart hammered in his chest against her hand. Warm breath brushed her cheek as he angled his face forward a fraction. Desire pulsed in her veins.
Before she thought, she rose up on tiptoe and gripped his sleeves with quivering fingers. Her heart raced and without a thought to propriety, she pressed her lips to his. Her closemouthed kiss was chaste by any standards and she felt awkward as he stood as rigid as a stone, staring down at her with eyes as black as Satan’s. Suddenly, she felt foolish. She scrambled for an apology.
She didn’t need one.
His strong arm banded around her narrow waist and he pulled her against his chest, his arousal pressing into her thigh.
For Matthias, Abby’s chaste kiss was like a spark to dry tinder. Desire flamed in him, scorching his veins with a white-hot need. He gave no thought to the past or the future but only to satisfying a lust thrumming in his veins—the lust he thought had died.
In the pale moonlight, he saw surprise flicker in Abby’s eyes as she looked up at him. She’d never been properly kissed, and he thought for an instant that he’d frightened her and that she’d go stumbling back to the cabin to the safety of her loft. In truth, it would be best for them both.
Instead, she leaned forward, pressing her full breasts against his chest.
As if his body had a will of its own, Matthias slid his hand up her back and cupped her neck in his hand. Fisting a handful of hair, he tugged her head back. Their warm breaths mingled in the chilled night.
The cold night air forgotten, he kissed her on the mouth fully. Moaning, she wrapped her arms around his neck. The fire in his veins burned hotter.
He slid his tongue into her mouth. He explored, demanded, possessed. She tasted as sweet as honey and he was ready to devour her here and now.
She moaned softly as he lowered his hand to her breast and circled the nipple until it formed a hard peak.
He trailed kisses down from her lips to the hollow of her neck. “God help me, but I want you.”
She arched back, moistening her lips with her tongue. “Yes.”
He stared down at her pale face in the dim moonlight. Her breasts pushed against his chest with each ragged breath of hers. Her thighs quivered. White-hot lust surged in his veins and loins.
Consequences be damned. He’d take her back to the barn and on a fresh mound of hay make love to her. His need had grown wild, tormented by too many long nights without a woman.
He kissed her again, nibbling her bottom lip with his teeth as he cupped her full round breast. Frustrated by the fabric that separated him from her bare flesh, he bunched the fabric in his hand, ready to tear it.
The front door to the cabin opened with a bang. “Pa, are you out there?” Quinn’s voice skidded through the night and struck him like a cold blast of air.
As if he’d been doused with a bucket of ice water, he broke the kiss. Still holding Abby, he stared down at her. Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen and her eyes misty with desire from his kiss.
“What the hell are we doing,” he said, his words scraping over his vocal cords.
She blinked, pressing her fingertips to her lips. The clouds faded from her eyes. “I wouldn’t think it needed explanation.”
Releasing her, he shoved his fingers through his hair.
“Pa!” Quinn shouted louder.
“I’ll be right there, Quinn. Shut the door so you don’t let the heat out.”
“Are you coming in soon?”
“Yes, just close the door, son.”
“Okay, Pa.”
When the door slammed shut, Matthias tried to collect the shattered pieces of his composure. His erection still throbbed, a painful reminder of what had almost happened. “I’m sorry.”
Sadness and frustration collided in her eyes. “I’m not.”
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he rasped.
“It’s not a sin to live again.”
In the year since Elise had died he’d lived in limbo. Each day he’d not concentrated on anything more than his boys and just getting through the day. Now in the blink of an eye, he had another woman living under his roof stirring desires so strong they rivaled what he’d felt for Elise.
He’d not done anything wrong, but he couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt in his gut.
He shoved shaky fingers through his hair. Reality and painful memories cooled the remains of his desire. The night’s chill seeped into his bones. “It’s time we got inside.”
“So that’s it?” Her hackles rose and she stiffened. “Don’t you want to talk about what just happened?”
He tightened his jaw so hard he imagined he heard teeth snapping. “No.”
A week later, the sun had warmed the land, banishing the chill. Abby wished it could also melt the chill that had settled between Mr. Barrington and her.
The kiss had shocked them both. For her, she’d not expected her knees to weaken when he’d touched her. She’d not expected her senses to swim when she felt the hunger in his bunched muscles. She’d not expected to want so much.
He’d clearly not anticipated his attraction to her, either. His reaction had angered him. Though he’d not said as much, since that night he’d been overly formal and had kept his distance. Clearly, he’d not wanted to feel anything for her. But he had.
Despite Mr. Barrington’s silence, each time he entered the cabin no matter if she were cooking in the kitchen or lying in her bed at night in the loft, she was aware of him.
His presence filled the cabin. Dominated it. And with each passing day the restlessness she’d felt when he’d kissed her had grown.
Abby punched down the bread dough and sprinkled flour on it. She glanced up out the window and watched the boys playing pick-up sticks, a game she’d fashioned for them out of twigs.
“The stage is coming!” Quinn shouted from the front porch.
Abby looked up from her bread dough out the kitchen window. In the distance the stage, surrounded by a plume of dust, rumbled toward the cabin. She recognized Holden’s coach immediately. “Now what the devil is he doing here?”
Curiosity quickly gave way to excitement at the idea of having a guest. She enjoyed the boys but, after a week living with children and a very silent Mr. Barrington, she welcomed the idea of talking to another person.
She quickly shaped the loaves and set them by the window to rise. Wiping her hands, she moved out onto the front porch next to the boys who both were jumping up and down.
“Mr. McGowan is coming, Abby,” Tommy said.
Abby smiled. “I can see that. What do you think brings him out here?”
“Horses,” Quinn said.
“Horses?”
“Pa trades the tired ones for fresh
ones,” Quinn said.
“I didn’t know your pa’s house was a stagecoach stop.”
“People never stay long,” Quinn said. “They don’t think Pa is friendly.”
Imagine that.
The stage rolled to a stop in the yard by the corral. Holden set the brake and tied off the reins. He touched the brim of his hat. “I reckon it’s Mrs. Barrington now.”
She lifted an eyebrow, unwilling to show any signs that her life was tipped out of balance. “No, sir, the name is still Smyth.”
Surprise flickered and then he climbed down from the driver’s seat and strode over to the boys. The sun had deepened his skin to a dark brown and the trail had coated his clothes with a fine layer of dust. With the boys so close he guarded his words carefully. “Did I hear right? The name is still Smyth?”