Turning, Winter knew that Cheyenne would be standing near the door. ‘‘Will you join us?’’
Cheyenne didn’t move. He stared at Jamie, waiting for her to attack at any moment. His dark eyes sparked with annoyance as if he’d just witnessed a plague talking.
‘‘Please,’’ Kora said. ‘‘We’d be honored if you’d join us.’’
Winter watched as Cheyenne looked from Jamie to Kora and the Indian’s eyes softened. Winter may have been making the offer because it was a condition Jamie insisted on, but Kora’s invitation was real and as rare in Cheyenne’s life as an eclipse.
Nodding once, he took his place at the far end of the table, as many chairs away from Jamie as possible.
Winter stood behind his wife’s chair for a moment, too shocked to move. In the years he’d known Cheyenne, the man had never sat at a table with him. But, in all honesty, Winter could never remember him being invited. Could it be possible that Cheyenne had waited all this time simply for an invitation?
Gently he touched Kora’s shoulder. ‘‘Thank you,’’ he mumbled as he took the seat beside her.
She smiled proudly as she passed him a platter of eggs. ‘‘It was fun to cook with a kitchen so fully stocked. As I organize everything, I’ll be much faster.’’
He hadn’t been talking about the food when he’d thanked her, but Winter didn’t want to correct her. He realized he probably should have thanked her for the meal. As he looked around at all the platters, he guessed she must have gone to a great deal of trouble.
Win also noticed she hadn’t shied away when he’d touched her shoulder in public. Just as she hadn’t seemed shy when Jamie was around. Was that the way it was going to be? He could touch her, even kiss her on the cheek when others were near, but when they were alone, she would back away from him as if in fear? The woman acted as though she had some terrible secret he’d discover if he got too close. Or maybe she saw Jamie as her guardian angel, just as she knew Dan, her older brother, could never be.
As he tasted the food, he suddenly realized how hungry he was. Everything was warm and freshly baked. To Winter’s surprise, he ate as hardily as all the hands. Only
Cheyenne hesitated over each bite, as if testing it for poison before swallowing.
The men talked of the blockade and the days ahead. As spring approached, the chances of herds trying to cross grew greater. If even a small herd passed over the pasture land, it could mean death for hundreds of cattle.
Finally the platters were all empty, and each cowhand thanked Kora greatly for the fine meal.
Winter noticed Cheyenne also thanked Jamie, who denied doing any of the cooking. When all the men were gone, the house fell quiet.
Jamie stretched like a child. ‘‘Well, it may be morning, but I’ve had a long night. I’m picking one of those rooms upstairs and going to bed. Those dishes will wait a few hours.’’
Kora waved her out, then lifted the first stack of plates. ‘‘I think I’ll set out Dan’s clean clothes. He always takes his morning walk, then dresses for the day. He’s already picked out a rocker on the front porch. I imagine after he dresses, he’ll sit in it until dark.’’
Winter reached for her hand, then stopped, remembering what had happened upstairs. ‘‘You did a fine job getting everything organized,’’ he said, wishing he knew how to talk to her. They were alone now and he could feel the coldness returning. She wore fear like an armor.
‘‘I made your bed in the study,’’ Kora said without looking at him. ‘‘And washed your clothes.’’
Winter nodded. She’d just answered all his questions. This might be their wedding night, or morning, but there was to be nothing between them. He told himself he expected nothing. Win didn’t even know the woman. He wasn’t in the habit of sharing a bed with a woman he hadn’t spent time getting to know. Besides, he’d never be attracted to someone who feared his touch.
Give it time, he thought. Wait and see what happens. He’d got a fair bargain. Kora would be a good wife even if she only stayed the six months. She was proper and polite, a good cook, and from what he could tell, a hard worker. He had no right to ask for more. If she were one of those females who hated a man’s touch, so be it. He’d lived without a woman in his bed all his life, and he could continue to do so.
‘‘I think I’ll turn in,’’ he informed her, in a hurry to get out of the room before he said or did something foolish, or worse, something that frightened her more.
A few minutes later as he stretched out on the long couch in the study, he smiled. The clean sheets felt good. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but Kora’s memory kept creeping into his mind, keeping him awake long after he should have been resting. How could the two sisters look so much alike and be so different? He should have been attracted to Jamie. She was more his kind, half-wild, stubborn, strong. But Winter found himself fascinated with Kora. Fascinated to the point that not even sleep could push her from his mind.
When his breathing finally became slow and regular, Kora silently slipped into the room. She’d allowed plenty of time for Winter to be asleep before even listening at the door. She tiptoed across the carpet without a sound and added a log to the fire. With the rain continuing, the study would grow cold long before Winter awoke if she didn’t add wood.
He was stretched out on his back. Kora couldn’t help but watch him. Asleep, he wasn’t nearly as overwhelming and all-powerful as he seemed awake. He looked peaceful, younger. His hair was a mess and the blanket twisted across his body.
She moved to his side and pulled the blanket over more of his bare chest. She’d always thought men slept in nightshirts, but this one didn’t. His chest bore the bronze hue of his Indian blood. The skin seemed stretched over muscles made of wood. Too hard to be human, she thought. A man made of oak.
Hesitantly she brushed her fingers over his shoulder, surprised at the warmth beneath her touch.
He didn’t move.
Kora grew bolder. Her fingers lightly brushed across his chest, feeling the curve of his skin as a sculptor feels his wood carving. He was magnificent. She rested her palm over his heart, feeling the strong, steady pounding against her hand.
Kora smiled, fighting down a giggle. She felt terribly wicked touching him while he slept. She’d wanted to touch him when she’d seen the water dripping off his chest earlier, but she never dared. He hadn’t looked at her with eyes burning with fire as Jamie said a man should look at a woman. He didn’t reach for her and demand something of her she’d never given any man. She was just useful to him, nothing more.
She let her finger run over the short whiskers along his strong jaw. Hesitantly she brushed back the dark brown hair off his forehead. He was her man, she thought, if only for a while, and she’d touch him, if only in his sleep. He might not see her, but she saw him. For the first time she wished for a man like him to love. He was everything she admired and dreamt about. But it would hurt too much if he were special to her and she was just somebody, anybody, to him.
When he moved slightly, turning his head, her fingers brushed the fullness of his slightly opened mouth. The mustache tickled her fingertip. Kora felt a fire race through her arm and warm her entire body.
She knelt beside him, careful not to touch him anywhere else as she leaned slowly forward and brushed her lips over his. She told herself she only wanted to feel what a man’s lips would be like against hers, but she knew it was more. Kora wanted to taste him. He might be stronger than she’d ever be. But he was also beautiful in a way she’d never thought a man could be.
From the first, even through her fear, she was fascinated by him.
Her lips gave slightly against his. She could feel the warmth of his face and smell a wildness that blended leather and campfires and lye soap… and the wind and the rain of a great storm together into a smell that was only his. His skin had been hard with the muscles beneath, but his mouth was surprisingly soft, yielding to the pressure of her lips.