Mountain Wild. Stacey Kayne
eyes burned with questions.
“It’s the cold,” she said, pulling her fingers from his grasp and tucking his hand back beneath the covers. “Addles the mind for a time. You’ve just got to warm up.”
As though she’d given the answer he needed, a sigh broke from his chest. His eyes drifted shut—which was how she preferred them, she decided. Unease swept through her at the thought of a fully conscious Garret Daines standing in her small cabin.
Oh Lord. She hadn’t thought that far ahead…and tried not to think of it now. Wasn’t anything she could do—he was here, shivering in her bed. The wood frame creaked with his violent tremors.
She stepped back. All she could do now was keep the fire stoked. His body needed to hold heat. She pulled her coat back on and grabbed her gloves from the table. She’d have to make sure the stovepipe atop the hillside hadn’t snowed over before she fetched an armload of wood.
By the time she returned to the cabin, her teakettle was steaming and she was trembling nearly as much as the man curled up in her bed. She shut the door against a fierce wind, the storm having fully arrived. She fed the fire another log then took a cup from the shelves beside her stove and opened her tea canister.
Exhausted, she dropped onto the only chair beside her narrow table with her tea and two shortbread cookies. Her shivers reminded her that her clothes were still damp. Taking a sip of tea to wash down the cookies, she told herself she needed to string a line to dry Garret’s clothes and start some stew. Her supply of meat needed to be thawed, cut and salted. She took another deep drink, the warm liquid soothing her chill. Completely worn-out, her mind and body balked at the idea of going back out into that storm to bring in the venison.
She watched Garret shiver in her bed and his dog sleeping soundly beside the stove as she drank the last of her tea. Suddenly she could barely keep her eyes open. Her tea no longer warming her hands and her belly, the chill crept back into her skin. Her own clothes needed to dry out, and she needed warming. All her blankets were wrapped around Garret. Lying on his side, he left just enough room for her to squeeze in beside him. A couple hours to warm up and regain her strength and she’d be ready to dry his gear and start a stew.
She lit the small lamp at the center of her table then dropped to her knees before her trunk at the end of her bed. Stacks of brightly embroidered shirts and dishcloths filled three quarters of the space—a winter’s worth of work. She didn’t have use for such colorful garb. Since Ira’s death, she bartered the fancy stitched dishcloths and clothing instead of animal pelts. She pulled out her flannel nightshirt and dropped the lid. Changing into the dry garment she hung her damp clothes over the chair and placed it before the stove. She’d be needing her clothes long before Garret would have use for his.
The fire stoked, her clothes drying, she stood beside the bed in her thick wool socks and nightshirt. She held her belt and sheathed blade, but was hesitant to crowd in beside Garret. Didn’t matter that she’d watched him in the lower hills more often than she should have in the past few years or that he seemed a fine man. She’d once been foolish enough to trust those who’d been ready to watch her die at her brother’s hands.
Ain’t enough of you to fight off man or beast. Ira’s gritty voice sounded in her mind. Don’t bed down without a weapon at hand.
If she didn’t get some sleep she’d be dead on her feet by the time Garret awoke. Not smart. His slow, jagged breaths assured her he was in a deep sleep just this side of death.
She went to the foot of the bed, stepped onto her trunk and eased into the sliver of space. She draped her belt over the bedpost and angled her knife so it would be within easy reach. She burrowed beneath the heavy blankets, lifting Garret’s arm to make room. The chill of his skin stole her breath as she settled beside him. Even so, her tired muscles rejoiced at the feel of the mattress beneath her.
Garret moaned. His big body shifted, his arms closing around her.
Maggie braced her hands against his cold chest. “Garret?” she whispered, forcing her voice past her constricted throat.
Several minutes passed. His eyes remained closed. The pressure of his hold didn’t change despite the tremors of his body. His heart thumped slow and steady beneath her palm.
The man’s practically an icicle, she reasoned. Instinc-tively he was trying to get warm.
She relaxed against his hold and tried to scoot into a more comfortable position. With every shift, her bare legs brushed against the coarse hair of his masculine body. She’d never lain with a naked man. The few times she’d snuggled up with Ira for warmth they’d been fully clothed and she’d been too cold to be bothered by Ira’s stench. Cleanliness wasn’t Ira’s way. He frequently grumbled about her sweet-scented soaps attracting bear. But he respected her way, making sure she had lye to make soap and seeking out a hot spring when she needed a long soak. She could use one now. So could Garret.
She yawned again, drawing in the musky scent of Garret’s skin. The hair on his chest tickled her cheek. Garret Daines didn’t smell bad, she noted. Her hand slid over his side to the smooth skin of his back as she settled against him. Despite his cold presence, a pleasing warmth spread through her as she gave in to sheer exhaustion.
Chapter Three
She spoke to him through the darkness. Her soothing touch pulled him from the cold depths of a nightmare. Heat suffused across his body as images of delicate ivory features and piercing blue eyes flickered through his mind.
Garret knocked a weight from his shoulders then shifted against the warmth pressing against him. His hand slid over a distinctly feminine form. A bare leg, a smooth hip curving into a narrow waist. He snuggled closer. Silky hair brushed his face. Her fresh, floral scent swirled across his senses as a soft, satiny breast filled his palm.
His body stirred, increasing the heat radiating beneath his skin. Her sensual moan dragged him toward consciousness. He wanted to open his eyes, to see her before she slipped back into the darkness. He blinked, letting in a flicker of light, then forced his heavy lids to open.
She was there, in the soft glow, sleeping against his chest just the way he’d always imagined a woman should sleep with her man. Relaxed against him, her head on his shoulder, her silky black hair fanned over his arm. His other hand was tucked inside her shirt. The bunched gray wool revealed a trim belly and the deep curve of her hip. It had been far too long since he’d had a woman in his bed.
I must be dead…or dreaming.
Looking at her pretty face, he didn’t much care which. She was a vision to be marveled, cherished. He leaned in, touching his lips to hers in the lightest caress. His thumb bushed over the firm peak of her breast and her breathing deepened. He dusted light kisses across her cheek and down her slender neck as his hand explored the smooth silk of her abdomen.
She moaned, the husky sound increasing the heavy beat of his pulse. He pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat as the satin fullness of her breast filled his palm once more.
Her breath broke, her back arched.
Starving to taste what she offered, he nudged at the fabric with his mouth. A button gave way, revealing the soft, supple swell of her breast and beaded pink crown.
Garret gave up on trying to breathe. His lips closed over her and he simply tasted. She stretched and shifted beneath him, twisting against his caressing mouth like a gentle flame. His body warmed to a fevered pitch as he drew his dream lover from sleep in the sweetest way he’d ever imagined.
“Oh! What are…!” Her fingers drove into his hair and tugged.
Groaning with regret, he released her. Despite her hold on his hair, he brushed his lips over the glistening peak once more before easing up. Wide blue eyes stared at him.
Blue as sapphires, just as he knew they would be.
“Garret?”
A