‘‘And the others?’’

Win took a long breath, debating how much to tell her. ‘‘There was an Indian girl in Wichita Falls I used to see now and then. She was nice and friendly. She wasn’t seeing anyone else that I know of and didn’t do it for the money, but she didn’t mind if I made a few months’ payments on her house while I was passing through town. I think I thought that with her I could go home, back to my past. But every time she left me feeling hollow. Like somehow I was muddying the past with what I was doing. I stopped visiting and later heard she’d married the local blacksmith.’’

‘‘And the others?’’

‘‘There were no others,’’ Win said. ‘‘I was too busy with the ranch to have time to go courting, and the women for hire were like cheap whiskey. I knew I’d regret it come morning.’’

‘‘And then there was me,’’ Kora whispered. ‘‘Did you regret bedding me?’’

‘‘No,’’ he answered honestly. ‘‘But I regret hurting you.’’

‘‘I know,’’ she answered as she wiped the hair from his forehead and kissed his cheek lightly. They sat silently for a while, then she whispered, ‘‘I like the way you kiss me. I never thought a kiss could be like that. And when you asked me if I was sure, I said yes, so it wasn’t all your fault.’’ She leaned against him. Her voice was so low, it passed between them as almost a thought. ‘‘I’ll try not to scream the next time you open my legs.’’

Her words cooled his building passion. Suddenly he didn’t want to just bed her, he wanted there to be more between them, much more. She enjoyed his kisses and even his touch. He’d slow down. He’d give her all the time she needed. She was right, she was stronger than he gave her credit for being. By the time she climbed on the train to California she’d know what it was like to enjoy being loved.

Gently he rose with her in his arms and carried her to the bed. While she curled beneath the covers, he stripped and joined her. He kissed her forehead lightly as she rested her head on his shoulder and fell asleep. He guessed she’d slept little last night and probably worried as much about what she’d say to him as he had. Now, in his arms, she relaxed.

All night, Win slept with her next to him. He was always aware of her movements. The feel of her hips pressing against his leg. The warmth of her breath against his throat. The softness of her breast resting on his arm.

Deep into the night, with his mind heavy in dreams, he closed his hand over her breast. She moaned softly in her sleep. He stroked the mound, thinking it might be tender from last night, but she didn’t roll from his touch. She’d accepted his touch, and he still saw it as a dream.

She was his, he thought as he gently moved his fingers over her, knowing he could touch her now wherever he liked. This wonderful creature was his to caress all night. She hadn’t argued when he’d reminded her she’d given him the right. He moved his fingers over her gown, feeling the peak of each breast and the rise and fall of her breathing. She was his to touch until sunup. He tasted her lips and spread his hand wide over her abdomen. She was his if only for a while.

The smell of her hair filled his senses as he moved his fingers over her hips, stroking her back. He loved the feel of her soft yielding curves. She stretched like a lazy cat and moved her arm around his neck. With only a gentle tug, he pulled her against the length of him so that he could feel her length with his body while his hand moved over the small of her back and down across her hips. She made no protest, but relaxed against him, unaware of the pleasure she brought him while she slept.

He tried to sleep himself, but with each breath her breasts pressed softly against him. Win fought the urge to unbutton her gown. She was sleeping so soundly, she might not awaken, and even if she did, he didn’t think she’d stop him. As illogical as it sounded, she’d made it plain that she was his wife and that he was welcome. She’d even asked him to touch her. Last night, when they’d made love, she’d never stopped him from taking all he’d wanted.

And now, tonight, he wanted her more than he had last night. He wanted to see her body, not just feel it. He wanted to taste her breasts, drawing each deep into his mouth. He wanted to caress her until she was ready and would welcome him inside with a cry of pleasure and not pain. But she’d said they’d wait until they both were ready. She’d said not until the bruises healed.

Suddenly the truth dawned on him, shaking him full awake. This was her revenge. Why scream and cry and kick him out when she could torture him like this? She wasn’t his, he was hers. She’d drawn every need he’d ever felt out until all he could think of was her. He wanted to pull away and tell her to go to hell, that no woman would ever own or control him. But her soft arm was a chain, her body a magnet he couldn’t pull free of.

This small woman with her soft ways and gentle voice would take her revenge all night, and Winter knew he would do nothing but endure the torture.

TWENTY-ONE


KORA AWOKE SLOWLY WITH FIRST LIGHT. SHE COULD feel Winter’s body along the length of her, keeping her warm. His arm rested across her waist and his slow steady breathing brushed the nape of her neck. She thought of what a fool she’d made of herself over the storm. It seemed she’d spent a month convincing him she wasn’t some frightened child who was intimidated by him, and now she’d acted like one.

But, she smiled, he hadn’t seemed to mind. She liked the way he’d lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the chair. Sometimes this strong man reminded her of a little boy. Since almost the first he seemed to be expecting her to pull away from him. He didn’t want her to matter to him, but she could see the cracks in the wall between them.

Kora slipped from the bed and moved to her dressing area. She’d found the undergarments wrapped in brown paper yesterday but hadn’t put them away. At first she told herself that maybe they weren’t hers or that Win would mention them. But he hadn’t said a word. It only made sense that he’d bought them for her, then probably forgotten to say anything.

Unfolding the camisole, she slipped it on, loving the soft silk against her skin. She’d never owned anything so grand with lace and ribbons no one would even see. Laughter bubbled from her. He was a strange husband, buying such things for her and never saying anything. Almost as if he didn’t want his kindness to show. As always, it was the things he didn’t say that told her so much.

Covering the new garments with her worn dress, Kora ran her hand down to her waist remembering the way he’d touched her. Win was a good man, strong and fair. In time, if she stayed long enough, she’d learn to take his bedding. It was a small price to pay. The world might see him as a bear, but she saw another side. A side that was full of longing and sadness. A side she wanted to hold and understand.

The thought of Andrew Adams crossed her mind. Kora flinched. She couldn’t imagine allowing Adams to touch her, and the thought of kissing him made her almost gag. He’d given her up for a few dollars, something Win would never do. For the first time, Kora was valued, and that one thought mattered more than the house or the ranch or all the money in all the banks in Texas. She could see it in the hunger of Win’s eyes when he looked at her.

Maybe the world had settled and her bad luck had passed. Maybe she could stay here and make a home for Dan and Jamie.

She hurried down the stairs knowing there was much to be done before the rest of the house awakened. Both of the wounded cowhands would return to the bunkhouse today. She had to clean the rooms and be ready. Everyone spoke of trouble as though they could already see the storm coming. They spoke of ‘‘when,’’ not ‘‘if.’’ But she’d seen no sign of anything happening.

‘‘It won’t come this time,’’ she whispered, trying to convince herself as she worked. ‘‘I won’t let it.’’

Jamie stumbled into the kitchen about the time the coffee boiled. She hadn’t bothered to wash or comb her hair. She grumbled about how Wyatt hadn’t returned from the game even to say good night.

Before Kora could offer any excuse for the gambler, Winter walked through the kitchen looking as out of sorts as always. He stepped out onto the porch and turned the icy pitcher of water over his head. The women could hear him swearing when the water hit him.

Jamie griped about the wild man her sister married, but Kora only touched the lace of her camisole. He could be as moody as he liked; he wasn’t going to frighten her away by growling. She acted as if she didn’t notice him as he reached in and took one of her new kitchen towels to dry his hair without saying a word to her.

‘‘Men!’’ Jamie snorted. ‘‘They’re a plague on this earth, that’s what they are! Worse than the curse and more irritating than fleas. I’m finished with the lot.’’

‘‘I thought you liked Wyatt.’’ Kora readied the stove.

‘‘I hate him. He talks real pretty, but he hardly notices me. I’ll probably be married and have four younguns before it dawns on him to wonder what happened to me.’’