He spread his hand over her ribs and felt her breath quicken. When the kiss deepened, he knew she loved his touch as much as he loved the feel of what he’d once seen on a rainy night.
His hand moved up until his fingers passed over her breast and he caught a tiny cry of joy before it could escape.
He moved close to her ear and whispered, “You all right with this?”
She nodded, then turned to whisper back, “I’m loving it. I’ve never felt anything like this.”
He wanted to tell her how soft she was, how perfect, but words would be dangerous. If one of the girls woke, what they were doing would be a lot harder to explain than the pee gun.
He moved to the buttons of her gown and slowly worked one at a time. Then he slid his hand beneath the cotton and felt her skin on skin. His hand was rough on the softest thing he’d ever felt. Her nipple peeked and he laughed in surprise.
They’d had no time to say the words of how they felt about each other. No mention of love or forever but he hoped she felt it in his touch.
Maybe neither believed in forever. But at this one moment in time, he wished he did. He had nothing to give her. She’d lost one man. What if she wasn’t willing to lose another?
What if this one touch was all they’d ever have? It wasn’t enough. He had a feeling that a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.
He kissed her one more time and brushed her breast once more as he tried to memorize the feel. Holding her so close he felt like they were one person with two hearts.
Then, he relaxed. She rested her head on his chest and slowed her breathing.
He held her against him all night. It might be the only night they had. Tomorrow he might have to fight. He swore he’d die before he’d let anyone take Emery or the girls from him.
Chapter 10
The silence woke him at first light. The raging wind that had whistled down the ravine had finally settled. The storm was over.
He stood and gently lowered Emery to the bench. Covering her with his blanket, he kissed her head tenderly. He’d danced with a few women when drunk, and talked to a few when necessary, but holding Emery in his arms was a paradise he’d never expected.
Trapper had no way to put it into words.
Moments like this in his life were tiny stars in a million miles of darkness. They made all the hard times bearable. One night like this would carry him through seasons of loneliness. Strange, he thought, how he hadn’t known how hollow he was until Emery filled his heart.
As he buttoned his coat, he stared at the girls sleeping. Texas princesses born on this land. Number Five, Sophia May, she’d reminded him yesterday of her real name, had wiggled out of her blanket, but One, Catherine Claire, was holding her close and sharing her blanket with her little sister.
Number Four, Helen Wren, had hidden so many rocks beneath the back of the front seat he wouldn’t have been surprised if they weighed more than him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her she had to toss out even one.
Four might be the next to the youngest, but she could read him. When he had to stop for the third time in one morning for the girls to “take care of private things,” or Trapper was forced into one of their games, Four always came near and patted him on the cheek, like that one thing would calm him.
Strange thing. It usually did.
When he studied Two and Three, he couldn’t believe he’d thought they looked just alike when he met them. They were as different as night and day. Number Two, Anna, was shy and organized, with a love of horses he’d rarely seen. Number Three, with her short hair and shorter temper, was emotional, unpredictable, and could talk him into anything.
As Trapper climbed out of the wagon and crunched his way down the ravine to the horses on a thin layer of frozen snow, he thought about what kind of men his girls would marry. He wished he could stay around to run off most suitors. If he were the colonel, he’d only let one in a hundred through the front door.
Trapper frowned. The colonel might want to think about nailing Number Three’s windows closed. Short hair or not, she’d be a beauty and probably would grow up to be wild as a jackrabbit.
He thought he heard the horses moving restlessly farther down the ravine and was glad he’d corralled them so far away from the wagon. They might have kept the girls awake during the storm. Then Two would think she’d have to go check on them, and of course he’d have to go with her.
He’d better go check on them early, before he had two or three of the girls following him.
He’d like them to sleep a bit longer, for this morning there was no campfire to warm up around.
As he walked toward the makeshift corral, he realized something was wrong. Maybe some animal was trying to get to them. He’d heard that in cold winters mountain lions would come down this far looking for food.
He heard something strange on the wind. The tiny giggle of a spur. The sound of leather rattling and the shuffling of human feet.
Trouble! That gut feeling he always got. Every nerve in Trapper’s body went on full alert.