Jillian Hart - The Horseman

I’ll show you. I’ll teach you that there are some things that can never be broken. His love for her was one of them. He broke apart the crumbly logs and watched the embers glow and brighten as air hit them.

That’s what he needed to do. Break apart those dark places in her heart. Give them light and air. Let them glow until there was no more doubt, no more fear. He would show Katelyn what her husband was made of.

And she would come to believe it.

His ankle popped. His knee creaked. Being a horseman was a demanding job. And now that he had Katelyn in his life, he wouldn’t need to be on the road, traveling from job to job.

For the first time in a while, he had a real home. And the woman of his dreams to share it with.

There was just one problem. And it was an enormous one. He was a direct man, practical, who took life one step at a time. And so that’s what he’d done with Katelyn. First he’d concentrated on helping her, making sure she got a chance to know him. Then he worked on getting her to marry him. And now that she was here, he wanted her to love him, genuine and true and forever. The way he loved her.

The trouble was, the thing he hadn’t considered was that she needed him. He’d given her a choice in the hotel room-money to last her at least a year if she used it wisely or his wedding ring. She’d chosen him, and he was damn glad. Damn proud to have her in his life. That was for absolute certain.

But would she be happy here? Or would she grow discontent after the novelty of learning to cook and keep house wore off, like polish on a new shoe, and begin wishing for her old life with a cook and maids and a fancy lifestyle to amuse her?

She was like a priceless china figurine on a handmade wooden shelf. She didn’t belong here, even though she wore his ring on her hand. A symbol of the vows she’d made to him. A promise to love him forever.

Would it be possible? She might not even intend for it to happen. Feelings changed sometimes. They did, without explanation, without meaning for it to happen.

Time would tell, he figured. And in the meantime, he’d do what he could to bind her to him. To love her so hard and true, it might make her belong here. Belong to him rightfully and forever without question.

“Hey, ready to go up to bed?” He lifted the book out of her hands gently. If she protested, he’d give it back.

She sparkled, like the first star in a night sky, tentative but unable to hold back the light. “I suppose it is getting late.”

Was that her roundabout way of saying she wanted this night to be different than the others? Please.

He’d been hard all evening. All he had to do was be alone with her. Showing her how to boil potatoes on the stove, cooking side by side and being able to touch her, just touch her, run his hand across her back as he reached around her for a hot pad to lift the kettle lid with. To stop and breathe in the scent of her hair and shampoo as he set the beef steaks to frying.

He was harder now and wanted her with a fierceness that he’d never felt. A hunger unparalleled. He set the book on the floor with a thud and held out his hand. She rose from the chair, a sensual womanly movement that stirred his desire. Her fingertips lightly stroked the center of his palm as she grabbed his hand that kindled his need for her.

And led him up the stairs. This night would be different. He was going to get to hold her all night long, her nakedness against his. Desire crackled through him, roaring hotter and higher.

He watched the sway of her fanny beneath that pretty calico dress. And the curve of her neck and the subtle sway of her perfect breasts, which moved with her every step.

I’m a lucky man. Without a single doubt. She was like grace come into his life, a haven from the pain of loneliness. A balm to a deeper wound he hadn’t been aware of until now.

The wound of not being loved. It was an unhappiness that was gone, and looking back, he could see how discontent he had been. It was why he moved from ranch to ranch, always traveling. To cover up the fear that no woman would ever think he was good enough to love.

Katelyn loved him. She’d said so, and he’d felt the truth of it. He was still afraid she might change her mind.

And now that he had a sample of what it was like to be loved by her, why, it was paradise. How could he go back to living without her?

He couldn’t. It was as simple as that.

As Katelyn led him into their bedroom and searched through the dark for matches to light the lamp, he lifted her braid and kissed the sensitive spot just above her collar.

She drew in a surprised intake of breath, as if she hadn’t expected this but liked it. She leaned against him, already surrendering, already wanting.

He drew her into his arms, her back to his chest and, chin on her head, began unfastening the buttons that kept her breasts from his touch.

He’d waited long enough. He’d not wait another second to bind her to him, make her a little more his. He brushed the dress from her shoulders and the garments beneath and led her to their bed. He laid her down and made love to her, his wife, his love.

He gave her all the pleasure he knew how to give. Gentle touches and hot kisses and slow deep thrusts that made her arch up to take him deeper. That made her fingers dig into his back as she surrendered. It was his name she called when she broke around him, his name she whispered as she kissed his face afterward.

She clung to him when, sated and full of his seed, sleep claimed her.

Even in her dreams, she held fast to him.

Wasn’t it a beautiful day? Katelyn couldn’t believe how light she felt. As weightless as those tiny snowflakes floating in a crisp morning sky. It was because she’d awakened in the warmth of Dillon’s arms, tucked against his chest as if he thought she was the most precious thing to him.

He’s that precious to me. Love for him glowed like a noontime sun within her, warming her from the inside out. Memories from last night rippled through her. The passionate taste of his kisses. The possessive gentleness of his caresses. The liquid glide of him inside her, the pleasure of it, the intimacy.

She’d never known that kind of pleasure existed. And that it could get better each time. As her affections for him did. Each time he made love to her, the feelings inside her heart doubled. How could that be?

She strolled into the kitchen, warm and toasty. Dillon had lit the stove for her, on his early-morning trip to the stables. Wasn’t that thoughtful?

A small bundle wrapped in brown paper and tied with a piece of twine sat precisely in the middle of the table. “To Katelyn, my love,” was written in a bold script.

Dillon had gotten her a gift? What a thoughtful man. What a wonderful man. He’d gone to town yesterday, and he’d taken the time out of his busy errand running and supply buying to choose a little something for her. Should she open it now? Or wait?

As if in answer, the wall clock bonged six times. What she’d better do is get breakfast cooking, that’s what! The gift would be all the better for the waiting.

She sliced bacon and set it on to fry. While the meat sizzled, she sliced potatoes and melted butter to fry them in. She kept stealing glances over her shoulder.

It was something small. Like a barrette for her hair. Or a pin for her lapel. Ooh, what could it be? She tried to imagine what Dillon would have selected. A bar of scented soap? A length of lace?

She ground the coffee beans the way Dillon had shown her and put the ground coffee on to boil. The kitchen smelled of sizzling bacon and buttery potatoes and coffee perking. Her stomach growled as she flipped the crisping slices of bacon. Good, she liked them crispy. It was almost time to put on the eggs.