He taught her everything a woman could know about the pleasures of love, about needs stirred and needs met. He showed her what it was like to love like lightning and thunder. And he showed her what it was to love like soft rain. She learned that desire could be a pain, burning hot through the blood. She learned it could be a joy, rushing sweet under the skin. But, though she was still unaware of it, she taught him much more, taught him that there could be beauty, and comfort, and hope.
They came together with the sun rising higher and the heat of the day chasing behind it.
Later, when she was alone in the cabin, Sarah cooled and bathed her skin. This was how it could be, she thought dreamily. Early every morning she would heat the coffee while he fed the stock and fetched fresh water from the stream. She would cook for him and tend the house. Together they would make something out of the land, out of their lives. Something good and fine.
They would start a family. She pressed a hand lightly against her stomach and wondered if one had already begun. What a beautiful way to make a child, she thought, running her fingers over her damp skin. What a perfect way.
She caught herself blushing and patted her skin dry. It wasn’t right to think that way, not when they weren’t married. Not when he hadn’t even asked her. Would he? Sarah slipped on her shirtwaist and buttoned it quickly. Hadn’t she herself said he wasn’t the kind of man who thought of marriage?
And yet… Could he love her the way he had loved her and not want to spend his life with her?
What had Mrs. O’Rourke said? Sarah thought back as she finished dressing. It had been something about a smart woman bringing a man around to marriage and making him think it had been his idea all along. With a light laugh, she turned toward the stove. She considered herself a very smart woman.
“Something funny?”
She glanced around as Jake walked in. “No, not really. I guess I’m just happy.”
He set a basket of eggs on the table. “I haven’t gathered eggs since my mother-for a long time.” As casually as she could, she took the eggs and started preparations for breakfast. “Did your mother have chickens when you were a boy?”
“Yeah. Is that coffee hot?”
“Sit down. I’ll pour you some.”
He didn’t want to talk about his past, she decided. Perhaps the time wasn’t right. Yet.
“I was able to get a slab of bacon from Mr. Cobb.” She sliced it competently while the pan heated. “I’ve thought about getting a few pigs. Lucius is going to grumble when I ask him to build a sty, but I don’t think he’d complain about eating ham. I don’t suppose you know anything about raising pigs?”
Would you listen to her? Jake thought as he tilted back in her chair. The duchess from Philadelphia talking about raising pigs. “You deserve better,” he heard himself say.
The bacon sizzled as she poured the coffee. “Better than what?”
“Than this place. Why don’t you go back east, Sarah, and live like you were meant to?”
She brought the cup to him. “Is that what you want, Jake? You want me to go?”
“It’s not a matter of what I want.”
She stood beside him, looking down. “I’d like to hear what you want.”
Their eyes held. He’d had some time to think, and think clearly. But nothing seemed clear enough when he looked at her. “Coffee,” he said, taking the cup. “Your wants are admirably simple. Take your hat off at my table.” She snatched it off his head and set it aside.
He just grinned, running a hand through his hair.
“Yes, ma’am. Good coffee, Duchess.”
“It’s nice to know I do something that pleases you.” She let out a yelp when he grabbed her from behind and spun her around.
“You do a lot that pleases me.” He kissed her, hard and long. “A whole lot.”
“Really?” She tried to keep her tone aloof, but her arms had already wound around his neck. “A pity I can’t say the same.”
“I guess that was some other woman who had her hands all over me last night.” Her laugh was muffled against his lips. “I brought your things over from the shed. Dress is a little worse for wear. Four petticoats.” He nipped her earlobe. “I hope you don’t pile that many on every day around here.”
“I don’t intend to discuss-”
“And that contraption you lace yourself into. Lucky you don’t pass out. Can’t figure you need it. Your waist’s no bigger around than my two hands. I ought to know.” He proved it by spanning her. “Why do you want to strap yourself into that thing?”
“I have no intention of discussing my undergarments with you.”
“I took them off you. Seems I should be able to talk about them.”
Blushing to the roots of her hair, she struggled away. “The bacon’s burning.”
He took his seat again and picked up his coffee.
“How many of those petticoats do you have on now?” After rescuing the bacon, she sent him a quick, flirtatious look over her shoulder. “You’ll just have to find out for yourself.” Pleased at the way his brows shot up, she went back to her cooking.
He was no longer certain how to handle her. With breakfast on the table, the scents wafting cozily in the air, and Sarah sitting across from him, Jake searched his mind for something to say.
“I saw your pictures on the wall. You draw real nice.”
“Thank you. I’ve always enjoyed it. If I’d known that my father was living here-that is, if I’d known how a few sketches would brighten the house up-I would have sent him some. I did send a small watercolor,” She frowned a little. “It was a self-portrait from last Christmas. I thought he might like to know what I looked like since I’d grown up. It’s strange. He had all the letters I’d written to him in that little tin box in the loft, but the sketch is nowhere to be found. I’ve been meaning to ask the sheriff if he might have forgotten to give it to me.”
“If Barker had it, he’d have seen you got it back.”
He didn’t care for the direction his thoughts were taking.
“You sure it got this far? Mail gets lost.”
“Oh, yes. He wrote me after he received it. Liza also mentioned that my father had been rather taken with it and had brought it into the store to show around.”
“Might turn up.”
“I suppose.” She shrugged. “I’ve given this place a thorough cleaning, but I might not have come across it. I’ll look again when Lucius puts in the floor.” “What floor?”
“The wooden floor. I’ve ordered boards.” She broke off a bite of biscuit. “Actually, I ordered extra. I have my heart set on a real bedroom. Out the west wall, I think. My sewing money’s coming in very handy.”
“Sarah, last night you said something about Carlotta telling you I’d given her some idea about having you sew for her.” He watched her stiffen up immediately. “When did you talk to her?”
“I didn’t. I have no intention of talking to that woman.”
He rolled his tongue into his cheek. He doubted Sarah would be pleased to know that her tone amused him. “Where did you hear that from?”
“Alice Johnson. She works in…that place. Apparently Carlotta had her drive out here to negotiate for my services.”
“Alice?” He cast his mind back, juggling faces with names. “She’s the little one-dark hair, big eyes?”
Sarah drew in a quiet, indignant breath. “That’s an accurate description. You seem to know the staff of the Silver Star very well.”
“I don’t know as I’d call them staff, but yeah, I know one from the other.”
Rising, she snatched up his empty plate. “And I’m sure they know you quite well.” When he just grinned, she had to fight back the urge to knock the look off his face with the cast-iron skillet. “I’ll thank you to stop smirking at me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” But he went right on. “You sure are pretty when you get fired up.”
“If that’s a compliment,” she said, wishing it didn’t make her want to smile, “you’re wasting your breath.”