Julianne MacLean Page 3

  He would have liked to linger there a while, but when his body began to respond too eagerly, he pulled back. Such things should be enjoyed in private, he knew, and thankfully that moment was near. Simply the idea of it was enough to make him weak with anticipation for the night ahead.

  Chapter Three

  Sarah glanced across the small round dinner table at her new husband and could barely swallow. One part of her wanted only to move on to the wedding night and get it over with as soon as possible. Another part of her wanted to put it off forever. Surely when Briggs came to her in the dark, he would know he was not the first. Garrison had told her men knew these things….

  She had to be strong, she told herself. She had to get through this. Perhaps her previous experience would not make a difference to Briggs. After all, there was no love between them. He merely wanted a helper on his farm.

  Silverware clinked against china plates all around them. Conversation hummed and laughter bellowed from the back corner of the restaurant. Sarah shifted in her chair, then cautiously looked again at Briggs to see if he’d noticed how little she’d eaten. To her dismay, he was staring at her over the vase of petunias.

  Their eyes locked. For that brief second she wondered what in heaven’s name he was thinking. Then without warning, self-consciousness came hurling at her. She dropped her gaze, picked up her fork and scooped up some mashed potatoes swabbed in dark gravy. Chewing furiously, she knew her face had gone as red as a ripe tomato. Briggs probably wasn’t surprised. Her behavior was what a husband would expect from a naive bride on her wedding night.

  But Sarah knew fully what to expect from a husband, and the agony of that coming moment sent a ripple of fear up her spine.

  After dinner, she dawdled over her coffee while they discussed nothing more interesting than the weather and Sarah’s long journey. Soon the conversation slowed to an agonizing end. Her coffee was cold and Sarah knew her time had come. She breathed deeply, trying to calm the nervous knots in her belly.

  Briggs slid his chair back across the floor. “Are you finished?”

  Sarah gulped back her blistering panic, forced a smile and nodded.

  “Shall we go, then?” he asked, holding out his hand.

  She placed her hand into his and allowed him to help her out of her chair. They walked arm in arm upstairs to room 21, where he inserted a large metal key into the lock and pushed the squeaky door open. Standing in the hall, unable to take even a small step forward, Sarah peered inside.

  One flickering kerosene lamp produced a smoky light. A tall rosewood dresser stood against the far wall, holding a blue-and-white chamber set. But the most notable piece of furniture was the intimidating wrought-iron bed. Why did a woman have to go through this in order to be married? she wondered miserably.

  “Make yourself at home,” Briggs said, gesturing with an outstretched arm and probably wondering why she was hesitating.

  After a few seconds, she took that giant step over the threshold. Once inside, she turned around, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her rugged-looking husband was leaning one shoulder against the door frame, both his hands in his front coat pockets. He swept a seductive gaze down her body, then let it return to meet hers. There was a tingling in the pit of her stomach, but what was causing it? Fear? Dread? Or was it an indecent thrill? It seemed incomprehensible that she could feel anything but misery at this moment.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” she asked, feeling the weight of his stare, wanting to put this night behind her, along with all her mixed-up emotions.

  He stepped back into the hall. “Not just yet. I thought you might like some time to yourself after your trip. I reserved the hotel tub for you.” He rubbed his jaw. “And I thought I might get myself a bath and a shave, too. George is expecting me at his house. It’s just a few blocks away.”

  Sarah let a sigh escape. Would the waiting never end?

  “I’ll come back in an hour?”

  She nodded without thinking, then watched him close the door. With knees trembling, her breath coming in short gasps, she listened to her husband’s heavy footsteps fade down the hall. Then silence boomed in her ears.

  She collapsed onto the bed, burying her face into the pink flowered quilt. Odd that she noticed the bed didn’t creak, but when she remembered the embarrassing racket the other bed had made, she realized it was not so odd she would notice such a thing. It was a sound she would not soon forget.

  Outside the hotel, Briggs stood a moment, staring up at the star-speckled sky. He listened to the saloon piano clanging a tinny tune down the street and found himself missing the quiet night hiss of prairie grass.

  So much for avoiding beautiful women in fancy skirts and feathered hats, he thought as he breathed an autumn scent in the late August air. He’d sat at dinner, watching his wife fidget in her chair like a child in church, trying to hide that goosey grin and failing terribly. She was nervous about tonight, poor thing. She was plumb scared out of her wits.

  He was, too, he supposed. He’d never been with a virgin before.

  All of a sudden, a case of the jitters hit him. He hoped he would make it pleasant for her, even though he knew he probably couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. Women didn’t usually enjoy it the first time. Or so he’d heard.

  He pulled his gaze from the blanket of stars overhead and started walking toward George’s house. Maybe the bath would relax him a bit. He sure as hell hoped so.

  Sarah sat up in bed wearing her pink cotton nightdress, buttoned tightly at the neck. Good Lord, she felt like she was choking. Waiting in the empty silence, listening for those footsteps down the hall, she fought the cold fear in her heart. Visions of the marriage act clouded her senses as she fiddled nervously with the pink satin ribbon at her collar. The nightdress had been a gift from Garrison on that horrible night and it stung that she must wear it now. But what else was she to do? Wait naked in bed for her husband? Certainly not.

  By the time she heard those boots tapping softly down the hall, she was nearly frozen with fear. The key clicked in the lock, the doorknob turned, and the door slowly creaked open.

  The time had come. She was alone with her new husband.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Briggs said quietly, closing the door behind him. He stared at her only briefly, then turned and shrugged out of his coat.

  Sarah said nothing. She couldn’t. All she could do was sit up against the pillows, biting her thumbnail, taking in the details of his appearance in the flickering lantern light.

  He turned his back to her while he pulled the animal claw necklace over his head, set it lightly on the chest of drawers, then unbuttoned and stripped off his loose white shirt. Sensations of awe exploded within her at the sight of his bronze, muscular back. He was large and strong. Stronger than Garrison. He would be heavy on top of her. She would feel trapped….

  Looking away, she shivered, remembering what had come after Garrison had removed his shirt. At least this time, she would know what to expect. Unpleasantness. And who knew what else, when Briggs discovered she’d kept something from him?

  Briggs took three slow, sultry steps toward the bed. “There’s no need to be afraid. You look as if you’ve just been sent to the hangman.”

  Her voice shook as she grasped desperately for words. “We hardly know each other.”

  He came closer, tilting his head. He looked different from before, when he’d first looked at her with those callous green eyes. Now his expression was reassuring, compassionate.

  But no amount of compassion would change what he was about to do to her.

  “I’ll try to be gentle,” he said tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure he could be.

  He raised a knee to the bed and crawled catlike across her to lie on the other side. A faint scent of musk touched her nose.

  “I hope that by tomorrow we’ll know each other better,” he added in a soft voice. He settled down and cradled her chin in his large hand. “Can I kiss you, Sarah?”

  Tre
mbling, she nodded, then closed her eyes to prepare for the feel of his lips upon hers. Her heart throbbed painfully inside her chest, her mind alive with horrible expectations. But when his hand caressed her cheek, then moved gracefully to her ear and played in the wavy locks of hair she’d just finished combing, she found herself feeling warm and a little less afraid.

  Then his lips moved over hers like a whisper, carefully at first. She quivered at the sweet tenderness of it all, the flavor of his mouth, the unanticipated desire she was feeling. His lips parted hers in a smooth, sweeping motion, and his tongue moved into her mouth. A sensual response awakened deep within her. Her body was relaxing, her muscles letting go of their resolve. If only the rest of it could be as satisfying as this soul-reaching kiss, she thought. If only they need not go further.

  Briggs drew back and wet his lips, his hand still playing in the tendril of hair over her ear. “That was nice,” he whispered. “Would you like me to lower the lamp? Or would you prefer I leave it burning?”

  “No,” she blurted out too quickly. “I think I’d like it to be dark.”

  He leaned away and lowered the wick in the lamp beside them. The room went black, and Sarah said a silent thank-you to be spared the expression on his face when the truth struck its inevitable blow.

  She felt him lift the quilt to climb under, and gathered from his movements that he was removing his trousers. “Lie back, Sarah,” she heard, as if from afar. “Come. Get under the covers with me.”

  Her eyes adjusting, she sat forward while Briggs removed some extra pillows and tossed them to the floor. She reluctantly inched down until her head rested on the pillow. For a moment nothing happened. She had lain on her back and her husband was simply lying there on his side, resting his cheek in his palm, propped up on one elbow.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, worrying he could see she was hiding something.

  “Nothing. I just wanted to look at you.” He gracefully rolled on top of her.

  Sarah gasped with sudden dread, but caught her breath when Briggs lingered there, his hands again twirling through her hair splayed out on the pillow. After a few seconds, as if he were allowing her heart time to slow its rapid pace, he lowered his face to hers and kissed her again. Ah, the kiss. She did like the kissing.

  Butterflies danced within her as he brushed his lips across her cheek, down her jaw, then nipped at the sensitive skin at her neck. Gooseflesh tingled down her left side. What was all this? Why was he putting off the inevitable?

  He pulled gently at the ribbon on her nightdress and unfastened the tiny top buttons. His lips journeyed slowly across her collarbone as she stared through the darkness at the ceiling.

  “Try to relax,” he whispered, pulling the nightdress down over her shoulders. “You’re tense.” He looked down at her and she feared he would see into her soul and know everything.

  “Would you like me to stop? If you’re not ready…”

  “No! I mean, I want to be your wife. In name and in body.”

  He looked at her a moment, then kissed her again, his warm tongue twirling around hers. Emotions skittered through her body, her blood became liquid candy in her hot veins.

  He sat back on his heels and removed her nightdress. Then he settled his weight upon her. “Sarah, I’m glad you came. I didn’t think I would be, but I am.”

  For a brief moment, while nothing but his body and his words seemed real, she was glad, too. She nodded in agreement.

  Then Briggs shifted, and all at once she could feel the silky tip of him poised where pain had been last time. Sarah instinctively squeezed her legs together.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, pausing to gaze down at her.

  She had no answer to give. Her fears had returned with the reality of what they were about to do. “I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “It’ll be okay. Just relax.”

  But how could she?

  Slowly, finally, he thrust into her.

  All movement stopped.

  He was inside her.

  Seconds ticked by. She opened her eyes, panic overwhelming her. Did he know? Would he be angry?

  Finally he began to move in an easy rhythm and relief coursed through her. She told herself the worst was over and it was all right to relax now, and soon she felt an unfamiliar pleasure. Her muscles loosened and tingled, her skin seemed to melt into his as they made love in the darkness. Oh, it had been nothing like this the first time. It had been nothing like this at all!

  Her head began to spin and she shut her eyes and couldn’t stop herself from shuddering unexpectedly with an overwhelming sensation throughout her body. Surprised and confused, she felt Briggs tense in her arms. A sound escaped him—a sound that could only mean pleasure as she had just known it. He throbbed within and she knew they had finally completed the marriage act.

  He relaxed on top of her, heavier now. Their bodies seemed glued together with heat and perspiration as they lay there in silence.

  All of a sudden, Sarah felt awkward. Her arms were around him, her fingers spread on his hot, slick back. He was still inside her. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. Then the awkward moment came to a sudden end. Briggs withdrew and rolled off her, leaving her exposed to the chilly bedroom air.

  Briggs lay motionless in the dark, listening to his wife’s unsteady breathing, feeling her lie so very still beside him. He draped his wrist over his eyes. He had thought…

  He didn’t know what he had thought. Why must he be so surprised? He knew nothing about this woman in bed beside him. Why should he have expected her to be a virgin? She had never promised such a thing in her letter. He had simply assumed it because she’d said she had attended church regularly and lived with her parents until their death. And the look in her eyes, the nervousness when he’d walked into the room earlier…she had seemed so innocent.

  How can a man know what a woman is about? he wondered.

  He can’t. It was as simple as that. He should never have presumed anything about Sarah. He simply had to accept that he had been second in line. She’d had a lover. Perhaps she’d had more than one.

  But why all the trembling? Was it an act? Had she wanted to trick him?

  Oh, he didn’t want to think that. He sat up and dropped his feet to the cold floor. His fingers squeezed the edge of the mattress as he found himself wondering many things. Where had this woman come from and who had touched her before he had? Why couldn’t he have just taken her without expecting to feel something in the process?

  Briggs felt a hand on his shoulder and tensed. “What’s the matter?” Sarah asked, her voice shaky with a worry he now fully understood. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

  He stared blankly, searching his mind for words, but it was no use. He could think of only one thing. He never should have let down his guard.

  Chapter Four

  Rolling onto her side and sinking into the center of the soft mattress, Sarah tried to focus on Briggs through inky darkness. He sat on the edge of the bed, his broad back to her, his hair disheveled. Her mind slashed through a brambly thicket of unanswered questions. Had he known? Did it matter to him?

  She hugged the quilt to her chest. “Is everything all right?”

  “It’s fine,” he said, his voice frightfully cool.

  “Why don’t you lie down?”

  “No.” He rose to his feet, the beauty of his body stunning Sarah to speechlessness in the wake of her terrible anxiety. All she could do was stare in awe at the strong arms, the firmly muscled back, and the sinewy thighs as he picked up his trousers and pulled them on. “I can’t sleep.”

  Sarah leaned up on one elbow, knowing he was lying to her. She remembered how his movements had stilled during their lovemaking. He had recognized her secret, and now he could not even bear to lie next to her.

  “Briggs, I—”

  “Why don’t you get some sleep? You’ve had a long day.”

  Something passed between them. H
e wanted her to see that he knew. His dark expression ordered her not to speak, not to explain anything. He did not want to hear it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  He pulled his shirt over his head. “I’m going for a walk.”

  Scalding tears threatened, but Sarah blinked them away. Weeping into her pillow would do her no good at this point. She had to be strong if she wanted to fix things.

  She lay back down, wondering what would come next. Briggs moved like a shadow across the room and she knew he wanted and needed to be alone. With any luck, she rationalized, his anger would soften after a few hours. Surely when he considered it, he would remember that their courtship consisted of one short letter. If he’d wanted a virgin for a wife, he would have specified that in some discreet way. The only thing he specified was that she be a willing worker, which she was.

  Hoping with quiet desperation that Briggs would view the situation from that perspective, Sarah sat up and watched him shrug into his buckskin coat. She noticed with some relief that he was leaving his claw necklace on the chest of drawers. At least he planned to return.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to come with you?” she asked, still clinging to a sliver of hope that he was not angry.

  “I’m sure. Get some sleep.” Without looking back, he walked out of the room and closed the door tightly behind him.

  The next morning, Sarah opened her eyes to bright sunlight spraying through the white lace curtain, painting dappled shadows on the pink patterned quilt. The exhaustion from endless days on the train seemed determined to linger inside her weary bones and muscles. She stretched her arms over her head and pointed her toes, trying to recall what it felt like to be free of misgivings, then realized with a jolt of alarm that her husband’s side of the bed was empty.

  Sarah bolted upright. Was he so angry he’d left her for good?

  Her eyes darted to the chest of drawers. The claw necklace was gone. Tossing the light sheets to the floor, she got out of bed and crossed the room to her valise. She flipped it open and pulled out what was on top—the purple gown she’d worn yesterday. She had to find Briggs and make things right. She wanted—she needed—this marriage to work. Just then, she heard a key slip into the metal lock in the door.