Jillian Hart - High Plains Wife

“I enjoyed your angel food cake, too. Rayna took it upon herself to make sure I got a slice. I can’t figure out why.” He sounded amused, not on defense.

“She’s a busybody who can’t mind her own business, that’s why.” And a dear friend, Mariah didn’t add, touched at her friend’s thoughtfulness. Rayna didn’t understand that Nick Gray wouldn’t want her. “I’m glad you enjoyed the cake. It’s my mother’s family recipe. Maybe that would make a fine wedding gift for your new bride. The one everyone says you’re here to find.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s why I’m here.”

He sounded so sad. Mariah’s heart punched with regret. She should have treated him better, even if she didn’t like him. He’d lost a wife he loved. “I’m sorry for your loss. I never had the chance to tell you.”

The strong shoulder muscles beneath her fingertips stiffened. He paused, letting the music move between them for a few short beats, his breath harsh, ruffling the tendrils at her temple, as if he were in terrible pain.

She ached for him. Maybe she’d been wrong to bring it up.

When he spoke, his voice was strained. “I never sent a note around for the food you prepared for the wake. I should have thanked you.”

“You didn’t need to. I understand. It’s a sad time.”

He simply nodded in response, his jaw brushing against her forehead. The fiddle sang sweetly, without a care in the world, but she could feel his heart, heavy and hurting. She laid her hand there, in the center of his chest, on the warm, hard, heat of him and felt the steady beat of his pulse. So much pain.

How was it that she could feel what was inside him? She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to watch as he chose another woman to marry, another woman to take his name, to live with him, to lie with him warm in his bed at night, to be loved by him, body and soul.

Anytime now Nick was going to release her, his duty done. She was prepared for it. She stared hard at the button on his collar, the one she intended to fix. Hardening her heart against the inevitable. She could see the younger women in the crowd watching him with hopeful eyes. Which pretty one would he pick to marry next?

For a second time Nick would pass her by to marry someone else. Her chest ached something fierce, and the button began to blur. She wouldn’t think about that. She’d concentrate on that button. Remember to look for this shirt in the next batch of his laundry—

He pulled her to his chest, tucking her beneath his chin, against his heart. She settled against him as if she were made to fit right there, her forehead nestling perfectly against the column of his throat. Oh, my. Everything within her stilled—her pulse, her blood, her thoughts. All she knew was the scent of Nick’s warm skin and the heat of his solid male body against hers. The music, the night, her anger at him, faded into nothing.

Being held by him was sheer heaven. Made her lighter than any soap bubble drifting on a summer’s breeze. Made her heart feel bigger than the wide spread of the night sky overhead. She closed her eyes, breathing in the solidness of him, the incredible feel of his arms banded around her, of his body’s heat, of the masculine way he was made….

“Is this all right?” His voice was a warm puff against her ear, making her tingle, shudder all the way to the soles of her feet.

All right? It was heaven. She nodded, closing her eyes, snuggling against him. Oh, to relax against the hard, wonderful plane of his chest. She breathed in the warm manly scent of his skin, letting him move her to the music, shuffling more than sweeping. His hand at her waist pressed her harder against him, as if he felt this, too, this yearning, this need to be closer. His free hand curled around the back of her neck, cradling her head against him. So tender…

He’s not going to choose you, Mariah. So don’t even begin to start hoping.

But holding him this close, feeling him so thrillingly male and comfortingly solid, made her ache. Ache for something she’d wanted since she was a schoolgirl. She wanted love. She wanted passion. She wanted to look into a man’s eyes and see the depths of his love for her, tender and endless and true. To know that she, Mariah Scott—afraid, lonely, and so deeply flawed—could be loved. Accepted.

Cherished.

You’re too cold-hearted for love, and you know it. Pa had told her this all her life. And it was true. She was too much like her mother for a man to ever find something to love in her. She was useful, a hard worker, good at cooking and cleaning, and she ran a fine laundry business. The best in town, in her opinion. She prided herself in that. In her accomplishments. She didn’t need a man to make her feel good about herself.

But being held like this was so wonderful. Nick shifted, bringing his cheek to rest against the side of her head. It was tender and snug, and heat gathered low in her stomach. A strong liquid want, heavy and demanding, made her lean into him. Her softness to his hardness. She wished she could be held like this forever. By this man, the one she’d loved all her life.

She would never be good enough to be loved by him.

“You’ve been on your own a long time.” He spoke low, so only she could hear him. “How long since your father’s passing?”

“Five, almost six years.”

“You’ve been alone all that time.”

Alone. That’s what she was, and she ached with it. She closed her eyes, sinking against Nick’s chest. He wouldn’t understand. He wasn’t lonely, he had a lot of family, and his own children.

“I know now that life with your father was hard. Maybe painful. I should have seen that. I should have understood.” His hand at the base of her skull moved in slow easy caresses.

Mariah shivered from the pleasure all the way to the soles of her feet. “It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to blame you, but I couldn’t. Lida was pretty and warm and loving.”

“She was my children’s mother and I won’t say a bad word about her, but I regretted what I did. Telling you I wanted to court you and then marrying someone else.”

“You fell in love.”

His hand stilled. “Your father told me that you changed your mind that day.”

“I didn’t change my mind.” She could clearly remember sitting at her bedroom window, ready for him to come calling, wearing the new dress she’d worked so hard to afford and had sewn during the late hours when her daily work was finally done. Fidgeting with anticipation, nervous, checking the mirror at least a dozen times to make sure her hair was all right because of the wind through the window.

Her first beau. Her young heart had sung with happiness. Other girls in school had boyfriends to take them driving on Sunday afternoons. She’d listened to their tales with such yearning. Now it was happening to her! Trembling, she leaned far out the open window, straining to see as far as she could around the bend in the road.

Was he late? Had he forgotten? He’d asked her in school that Friday; a whole day had passed and he could have forgotten…. No, wait. That was a small dust cloud rising on the rolling prairie, then suddenly a horse-drawn surrey appeared around the corner, the matched pintos trotting handsomely.

He’d come! The most handsome boy in school had come for her. She’d flown from the window, checked the mirror one last time to tuck an unruly gold curl beneath her poke bonnet and torn down the stairs.

Just in time to watch her father send Nick away. Dust flew in his wake, a big brown cloud obscuring him. When it faded, the dust settling back to the ground, he was gone.

He hadn’t wanted her then. Nor had any man wanted to court her since. She refused to be sad about it. She was a grown woman, she didn’t need anyone. Really.