A Hero's Heart Page 8

  In the darkness, his lips searched hers. His arms clasped her to him, and he felt her breasts pressing into his chest through the cotton of her nightgown. His hands stroked her face, while his lips devoured hers like a man starved.

  This was what he’d thought about all day. This was what he’d dreamed about at night.

  She brought her hands between them and tried to push him away. He kept kissing her until her gentle shoves changed to a tentative embrace. She grasped his undershirt and pulled him closer, moaning deep in the back of her throat. Her tongue gently found its way into his mouth and teased him with a timid touch. Feeling the satin of her skin, he rubbed his hands up her arms, across her shoulders to the buttons on her lace trimmed nightgown. His fingers fumbled at the silk tie of her nightdress, while his lips never left hers.

  Succeeding at last, he pushed her nightgown down past her shoulders, past her bosom. His mouth trailed the soft cloth, descending as he kissed his way down her throat, down her silky shoulders, to the sweet nubs of her breasts.

  She sighed with pleasure as his lips found the soft tip of her nipple and he gently teased the nub until it firmed against his mouth. Unable to resist the promise of sweetness, his lips suckled her breast.

  “Wade,” she murmured, the sound intoxicating to his ears.

  He was past the point of no return, past the point of apprehension or second thoughts. He wanted only to feel himself deep inside Rachel, filling her with his need.

  For a moment, his brain failed to register the loud scream that tore through his passion. But suddenly he knew something was dreadfully wrong.

  “Damn,” he cursed as he jumped away from Rachel and tugged on his pants. Grabbing his gun, he crawled out of the wagon. The screams came from the tent where the children slept, rending the still night air.

  Wade reached the tent and tore open the flap. A lantern illuminated the inside where Becky was ranting. Her eyes were wide with anger, her breathing shallow. She raised a hand to strike Grace.

  “You brat! I’ll teach you to put a frog in my blankets.”

  Wade reacted without thought. He grabbed a startled Becky, pulling her arm behind her. “Don’t you dare hit that child,” he said, his voice a menacing growl.

  Becky’s body shook with anger. “Just look at my pallet. That frog wet my blankets.”

  Four green frogs hopped over Becky’s covers, anxious to escape the overcrowded tent. Toby held Daniel, who was crying with fright at the noise and commotion. Wade tried to suppress his smile as the toads sprang about the bedding.

  Rachel jerked open the flap of the tent, her wrapper covering her nightgown, her face flushed from his kisses.

  She glanced at Wade, then Becky. “What happened? Who’s hurt?”

  “Just a few startled frogs.” Unable to contain his laugher any longer, Wade threw back his head and howled.

  Rachel looked puzzled, her hazel eyes encountering his in a nervous glance. “Frogs?”

  Becky jerked her arm free of Wade, and gave him a despicable glare. “Yes, that brat put them in my pallet. I refuse to let her sleep in here anymore.”

  Grace stood aside, her head bowed. “I didn’t mean to. They crawled out of my pocket.”

  “This little minx has hated me from the day you made me sleep here,” Becky said with a pout.

  Squatting down next to Grace, Wade asked the child. “Are there any more frogs missing, Grace?”

  “Nope. I only had four. I lost two others yesterday.”

  Rising, Wade ran a hand through his hair. Never before had his ardor been cooled by frogs on the loose. “It’s late. Why don’t you sleep with Rachel and me tonight, Grace?”

  “Thank you!” she exclaimed. She grabbed her doll, hooked it under her arm and headed out the tent without a backward glance.

  Wade gazed at Rachel. Grace’s timing couldn’t have been any worse. Then again, maybe it couldn’t have been better. After all, he knew the natural conclusion to their kisses and caresses. But Rachel…

  Suddenly her anxious expression was gone. “I’ll go make space in the wagon.”

  “Okay, the excitement’s over. Everyone back to bed,” Wade declared.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep in the dark again without feeling those things crawling on me,” Becky raged.

  “Help Toby get Daniel settled,” Wade commanded. “That will make you forget.”

  While Wade collected Grace’s escaped frogs, Rachel readied the wagon. He put the frogs in a bucket for safekeeping, then lifted Grace up in the wagon and crawled in after her.

  For a moment, he was stunned. The bundling board had been tucked away. The pallet, still small, would barely encompass three people. They would be crowded, forced to sleep side by side, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, sandwiched together. Just what his overactive imagination needed, to be curled up to a woman who was untouchable, yet left him hotter than the longest day in the desert.

  * * *

  The next morning, neither she nor Wade spoke of the ridiculous fact that four green frogs had saved her virginity. But the feelings Wade aroused had lingered long after they’d separated. Her breasts and mouth were tender from his kisses, her heart bruised with the realization that he’d proven his point. She’d enjoyed every minute.

  When she awoke, only the indention of his body on the pallet reminded her that Wade had slept beside her. But Rachel knew he’d left an indention on her heart as well.

  She craved his touch, relished his kisses, hungered for his smell. Shamefully, this morning her only regret was that their lovemaking had been interrupted by Becky’s screams.

  But then again, what was wrong with Wade? Besides the fact that he gambled, drank and swore on occasion, nothing. Quite frankly, he was a good man with a kind but stubborn heart. He was generous to a fault, and even though he professed to dislike children, he had more patience with them than most men.

  Because she knew, when they reached Oregon, Wade would leave her behind, her heart wanted to stay on the trail forever. For when they arrived in The Dalles, she would find it hard, if not impossible, to forget Wade.

  The bright afternoon sun shimmered on the trail ahead as Rachel slapped the reins to keep the oxen moving. A few more miles closer to Oregon, a few more miles closer to the Sweetwater River. A lone rider approached their wagon, atop a palomino pony with a white mane and tail. As the horseman came closer, Rachel was surprised to recognize Ethan.

  He touched the tip of his hat. “Good afternoon, ladies.” Ethan touched the tip of his hat.

  “Ethan, where did you find such a beautiful horse?” Rachel asked.

  “He belongs to my wife,” Ethan replied. “How are you this afternoon, Miss Becky?”

  Rachel turned to glance at her sister. She’d been unusually quiet the last couple of days, and Rachel didn’t know if the heat was bothering her or if she was just in a nasty disposition.

  “Perfect, Mr. Beauchamp,” Becky replied, a smile she reserved for her best beaus upon her lips. “And how is your wife.”

  “She’s well,” Ethan replied, his deep voice smooth as honey.

  “Does she like being a preacher’s wife?” Becky asked.

  Rachel watched Ethan smile at Becky, his expression sincere. “Certainly. That’s one of the reasons she married me.”

  “It’s obvious Mary adores you,” Rachel replied.

  “But she wasn’t my first love, was she?” Ethan said softly.

  A tug on the reins drew Rachel’s attention back to the team of oxen. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Becky shift positions on the hard seat.

  “We were young, Ethan. You probably courted half-a-dozen women between the time you knew me and Mary,” Rachel replied as she tried to make light of Ethan’s words.

  “But none as pretty as the Cooke sisters,” he acknowledged.

  “You’re such a flirt. No wonder the ladies used to chase you,” Rachel teased.

  “I ran just fast enough so I could be caught, too,” Ethan pr
oudly proclaimed.

  “Humph!” Becky said under her breath, just loud enough that Rachel heard. “You should have stayed and married one of us, Ethan.”

  “I should have, Becky, but I couldn’t,” Ethan replied, his voice quiet.

  Becky coyly looked out from under her hat. “Your loss.”

  “Yes ma’am, it is.” Ethan’s face broke out in a smile, his eyes twinkled.

  Rachel frowned. “Things turned out for the best for all of us.”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “She’s been this way since she married that specimen of manhood she calls a husband.”

  Rachel frowned at her sister with annoyance. If Becky only knew the truth behind her marriage, she wouldn’t say such ridiculous things. Rachel was certain she wasn’t acting any different since the announcement of her marriage.

  “Sounds like you have a real affliction, Mrs. Ketchum. Maybe I should have a talk with this husband of yours. Make him realize what a lucky man he is.”

  “Oh, no, please don’t,” Rachel flushed with embarrassment. She didn’t need Wade to get any more ideas about how she felt about him. All he had to do was touch her, and her traitorous body responded in ways she’d never imagined.

  Ethan looked at her oddly. “Why not, Rachel?”

  “It’s just that…he’s so busy right now, watching over the livestock, scouting for Frank, and taking first shift each night.”

  They rode along in companionable silence for a few moments. Ethan handled the fine pony with the skill of an excellent horseman.

  “When did you learn to ride so well?” Rachel asked. “Before you could barely sit a horse.”

  Rachel realized she knew less about Ethan than she did about Wade. Ethan had never volunteered information about his background. One day he’d appeared on their doorstep and started to preach in her father’s church.

  “Mary taught me,” Ethan said as he glanced at Becky, a frown marring his face. “Miss Becky, why aren’t you wearing gloves?”

  Becky looked annoyed. “I’m not driving the team this afternoon, Rachel is.”

  “That sun will damage your lily white skin. Here…” Ethan slipped his hands from his gloves and handed them to Becky. “I insist you wear mine. You can bring them back tonight.”

  Becky looked at him with a strange expression and then graciously accepted his gloves.

  “Put them on,” Ethan commanded.

  As she did so a puzzled expression crossed her face.

  Rachel thought for just a moment that she’d seen a sliver of white paper inside the gloves, but when Becky didn’t say anything, she thought she was imaging things.

  “Thank you,” Becky replied politely. “My hands do feel better.”

  * * *

  Later that night, Rachel stepped out of the tent to see Wade sitting by the campfire, holding a drowsy Grace. From what she could hear, he was telling her a story. The picture sent a pang zinging through Rachel’s chest, hard enough to make her step falter.

  For a man who despised small children, he was unusually good with them. Last night, he’d brought Grace to their bed. He’d taught Toby how to shoot, and he played with Daniel, holding him most nights until she had supper ready.

  Quite a contradiction for a man who disliked children. Could he have lost a child of his own? He’d never mentioned being married. Though she knew more about Wade than Ethan, she knew little about his background other than the fact that he’d grown up in a saloon and was searching for his brother. He’d said nothing about the other members of his family.

  As Rachel strolled into the light of the campfire, Grace smiled sleepily at her. “Wade’s telling me a story of a little girl traveling to Oregon.”

  “I think maybe it’s time for a little girl to go to bed.”

  “After he finishes the story.”

  “Rachel is right. We’ll finish the story another night,” Wade said as he stood, holding Grace in his arms.”

  The other children were already tucked in bed and sound asleep as he made his to the tent. While he laid Grace on the pallet, Rachel glanced over at Becky’s empty pallet and wondered where she was.

  The little girl reached up and gave Wade a peck on the check. “Good night, Wade.”

  A look of utter misery crossed Wade’s face. “Good night Grace.” He turned and strode from the tent as if demons nipped at his heels.

  Rachel bent down and gently tucked Grace in. “Sleep tight sweetheart,” she whispered as she kissed the child on the cheek.

  “Hmmm, don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Grace replied dreamily.

  Stepping out of the tent into the light glow of the campfire, Rachel realized that something about Grace had touched Wade. “Why did you act like you hated children when we first met?”

  Wade glanced at her across the fire, and she witnessed the pain reflected in his face. “Who says I don’t hate them now?”

  “If you hated children you wouldn’t be so good with them.”

  Wade frowned. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Did you think just because I grew up in a tavern, I had no contact with children?”

  “No. Some of your first words to me showed your concern about traveling with children, yet you’re better with them than Becky is.”

  Wade put a cheroot between his lips and chewed on the end of it. “I came from a large family. My father owned the Captain’s Tavern in Boston.” He paused and stared at Rachel. “It was your typical barroom establishment.”

  “My mother was a saint to put up with my father. She was sickly, but she took care of us children the best she could. Since I was the oldest, I had to help out with the younger kids.”

  Wade stood and paced around the fire as if the memories made him restless, edgy. Memories shadowed his eyes, turning them a fierce green. Rachel felt a compelling need to ask further questions, but he put his fingertips to her lips.

  “I have to go. I’m taking first watch tonight.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead, spun around, leaving her without another word.

  As Rachel watched him disappear into the night, she couldn’t help but wonder about the hurt she’d seen in his eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  Dear Diary,

  Today we reached Independence Rock and stopped to celebrate. This last week we’ve passed through the most grueling country yet. Everyone has suffered from lack of water, especially the cattle and oxen.

  The children’s faces have peeled from the dust, wind and sun, though I constantly apply salve. Everyone is tired, and today’s arrival at Independence Rock couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Wade has been distant since the night Grace stayed with us. I feel as if he’s avoiding me, afraid of me…

  “Rachel,” Becky called in the early evening air.

  Rachel slipped her diary back in the trunk, then stuck her head out between the pucker ropes of the canvas. “What is it?”

  “The women are setting up the tables.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Rachel said.

  Frank had declared a day of rest and celebration for the weary travelers. For the first time in a week, Rachel had allowed herself the luxury of a sponge bath and the pleasure of washing her hair. With the scarcity of water, no one had been given the indulgence of a bath until today.

  Though she tried to tell herself the party was the only reason she wanted to look her best, she knew Wade’s presence spurred her efforts.

  The brush slid through her hair until it glistened and shone, then Rachel looped it back loosely with a piece of ribbon, instead of securing it in the usual bun she wore every day. She dabbed just a drop of rosewater on her throat, then picked up Daniel, who sat on the floor of the wagon, watching her.

  He giggled in delight and reached for her nose, just as she grabbed his hand. She cooed to the baby as she crawled out of the wagon, her long skirts a hindrance. When she turned around she came face to face with Wade.

  Sweat glistened on his face. His shirt was damp with perspiration, his skin tanned from
the long hours in the sun. She’d never realized before this moment how the smell of a man after a hard day’s work could be so exhilarating.

  His eyes leisurely traveled the length of her body, sending her blood racing to her cheeks. He stepped closer until only Daniel remained between them. “Mrs. Ketchum, you look stunning.”

  Rachel couldn’t help but smile. His words, combined with his looks, left her almost breathless. “Thank you. I laid out clean clothes for you in the wagon. Change and then meet us at the Rock.”

  Wade’s left brow rose. “You laid out my clothes?”

  “I looked through your saddlebags and found fresh clothing for you. I thought you would want to clean up a bit.”

  He smiled. “Most definitely.” He brushed his finger against her cheek, sending ripples of pleasure through her. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Rachel’s stomach fluttered with anticipation. “Yes.” After a week of clipped sentences and seldom being seen by her, today he was back to acting like the charming rogue who tested her resistance. Somehow, it was a welcome change.

  She quickly stepped away, picking up her dried apple pie and chicken dumplings, though the dish was more dumplings than bird.

  When she reached the tables the women were busily laying out the food.

  Mary greeted her. “I’ve been looking for you and that sweet baby. May I hold him?” she stretched out her arms and Daniel gladly went into them.

  “I’m surprised at how he’s taken to you. He fusses with Becky,” Rachel replied as she set about putting out her chicken and pie. The table was overladen with food, and while it wasn’t the quality of back-home cooking, the women had done their best with their meager supplies.

  “Where is Ethan?” Rachel asked. “I haven’t seen him today.”

  “He went hunting with several of the other men,” Mary replied. “How about Wade, where is he?”

  “He’s cleaning up now. Funny, he didn’t say anything about hunting.”

  Mary shrugged her shoulders. “Ethan left earlier this afternoon. Maybe Wade had something else to do.”

  They busied themselves, helping set up the tables of food, arranging stools and benches around the area so people might sit and enjoy themselves.