Silver Heart (Historical Western Romance) (Longren Family series #1) by Amelia Rose

supposed and bit my lip.  I had nine green thumbs when it came to midwifery.  Babies I birthed usually thrived unless there was a problem in the womb, before birth or with the mother.  Plants, on the other hand, suffered at my touch, withering and all but dying to quit my tender ministrations.
                  Well, I'd learn. 
                  Through my sleep, I'd heard Mr. Longren in the room above mine, his boots on hardwood floor as he moved about and I assumed he was long gone, out to the mines, perhaps leaving me to cope with the Sheriff, who was due to visit the incorrigible younger Mr. Longren and another visit from the doctor. 
                  That wasn't such a bad thing.  Seeing him again this morning, I figured it might be awkward.  Last night, we had been tired, had talked so long and about so much, had seen through two emergencies together – what had transpired between us seemed natural.
                  By morning light, it might not.
                  I went down the hall, my ankle boots clicking on the hardwood, admiring the shining, polished wood floors.  Whoever had kept house for Mr. Longren before my arrival could teach me a thing or two about keeping Nevada dust from the wood surfaces.
                  At the end of the hall, I veered to the right, checking in the sitting room.  Matthew Longren still slept on the davenport and this morning, his color wasn't good.  He looked gray and washed out, like bed sheets laundered too many times, and his face shined with heat.  It would be good if the doctor came again, though maybe Mr. Longren had simply spent a restless, pained night, and now, perhaps he was simply hot.
                  I could understand.  The day's heat was already starting as the sun came up and burned away the cool, fresh smell, replacing it with a dusty smell of earth and the heady scent of sage.  Still, I wanted to brush the curls from his face and pat down the shine of moisture on his forehead.  I wanted him to open his eyes and see me there and I wanted to touch his hand again, to make certain that spark didn't happen this time.
                  Only to make certain that spark didn't happen again.
                  I forced myself away, shielding my thoughts from myself, and continued through the sitting room, heading left through the connecting door into the kitchen.
                  And found myself face to face with Hutch Longren.
                  It hadn't been the lateness of the hour or the quiet kitchen or the endless stars in the nighttime sky.  My breath caught and my mind went empty.  I couldn't speak.
                  He didn't speak either, just crossed the kitchen to me as if he thought I might fall.  I didn't feel faint.  I simply wanted to be caught.
                  Standing in the circle of his arms, I thought of him saying we must marry soon.  Then even that thought was lost. 
                  His mouth on mine was hot as the day dawning beyond the kitchen.  His hands burned through my dress.  I pressed against him and opened my mouth to his, letting my hands move over the muscles in his back.  He was lean and hard and very real, not the apparitions I had dreamed.  He was proof of his own existence when I doubted he was anything beyond daydream.  Because in the back of my mind, a voice of reason said, Nothing happens like this.  A marriage of convenience, of logic and reason, doesn't result in these feelings, that such feelings would have be to grown into and probably unearthed at quite a price.  I wasn't a silly girl, believing in fairy tales. 
                  He pushed me up against the kitchen wall, and something on a shelf smacked against my shoulder and tumbled, falling to the floor with a metallic clatter.  Hutch's body pressed against mine and my mind flashed to thoughts