fabric and trickled from the brim of his hat, running in rivulets down his face.
Up on the porch, a shadow surged into motion. It flew down the stairs, into the rain, and hurtled against him.
‘Carl!’
He caught Jade in his arms and hauled her to his chest. Warmth flooded him as he cradled her close. He’d been gone four days. Had she been sitting on the porch each evening, waiting for him, hoping? He dipped his head and scattered kisses on her brow, on her eyelids, on her cheeks. Her lips parted, warm and soft, welcoming him, and he deepened the kiss—two bodies molding into one as water from the sky pelted down upon them.
‘Oh, Carl, you came back,’ she breathed between kisses.
Reluctantly, he released her. ‘Let me take Grace to the barn.’
He set off, leading the horse out of the deluge. Inside the dim, cavernous barn, the carthorse and Jade’s mustang mare, Star, nickered in welcome. Grace stomped in delight. ‘Yes, boy,’ Carl murmured as he unsaddled his horse. ‘I know. It’s good to be home.’
Home.
The thought sent a jolt through him. He’d never called a place home. Not once in his twenty-seven years. He’d slept in a workhouse for orphans, on a strip of floor in a gambling house, in an army barracks, on any sheltered spot beside a rock or beneath a tree, and sometimes even in the comfort of a house or a hotel.
But never home .
He hurried back inside, an odd pressure burning in his chest. Jade stood by the stove, waiting for the big copper coffeepot to boil. She smiled at him over her shoulder. Her hair formed a riot of curls and her damp cotton dress clung to her skin, revealing the curves of her body. In her green eyes Carl could read the questions she lacked the courage to ask.
Why did you come back?
Will you stay?
‘The stage line had no…suitable jobs.’ He skirted around the lie.
‘I’m glad.’ She picked up a cloth to protect her hand and lifted the lid on the coffee pot to peer inside. ‘There’s been so much happening here. Pa—’
‘Later.’ He hung his dripping hat on a peg by the door, tossed his saddlebags on the floor and crossed the room, leaving a trail of muddy footsteps in his wake. He reached around Jade, tugged the cloth from her hand and shoved the copper pot away from the heat. Curling one arm around her waist, he ushered her toward the bedroom.
Desire arrowed through him, so powerful his body trembled. By the bedside, he paused to peel away his wet coat, letting it fall to the floor. Boots, trousers and shirt followed, scattering on the hooked rug and bare boards.
Jade stood watching him, hesitation reflected on her features.
‘I need you,’ he said simply. ‘Right now.’
Naked, cold ripples rising on his damp skin, heavy arousal jutting up in his groin, he turned toward her. With impatient hands he stripped away her dress, snagging a button here, ripping a seam there.
‘Slow down,’ Jade scolded, too stunned to help or resist.
‘No.’
And then he had her bare. Her skin glowed in the lamplight that spilled in through the open door. Carl hesitated, surprised that Jade didn’t protest the lack of privacy. He considered going to kick the door shut, but he wanted to see her, and couldn’t bear the thought of releasing her long enough to fetch the lamp that burned in the living room.
He brushed aside concern over the possibility that Sam might get out of bed and peek into the room to see what was causing the unexpected sounds. In a single fluid motion, Carl braced one arm against the mattress, lowered Jade on the bed, and settled on top of her.
Her eyes were huge pools of green as she stared up at him. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she whispered. ‘Every night, I waited on the porch.’ Her slender legs rose to coil around his waist, as if warning him that she would hold on to him and not let him leave again.
Carl didn’t want to think about the future or the past, about promises kept or broken. Shaken by the strength of his craving for
Up on the porch, a shadow surged into motion. It flew down the stairs, into the rain, and hurtled against him.
‘Carl!’
He caught Jade in his arms and hauled her to his chest. Warmth flooded him as he cradled her close. He’d been gone four days. Had she been sitting on the porch each evening, waiting for him, hoping? He dipped his head and scattered kisses on her brow, on her eyelids, on her cheeks. Her lips parted, warm and soft, welcoming him, and he deepened the kiss—two bodies molding into one as water from the sky pelted down upon them.
‘Oh, Carl, you came back,’ she breathed between kisses.
Reluctantly, he released her. ‘Let me take Grace to the barn.’
He set off, leading the horse out of the deluge. Inside the dim, cavernous barn, the carthorse and Jade’s mustang mare, Star, nickered in welcome. Grace stomped in delight. ‘Yes, boy,’ Carl murmured as he unsaddled his horse. ‘I know. It’s good to be home.’
Home.
The thought sent a jolt through him. He’d never called a place home. Not once in his twenty-seven years. He’d slept in a workhouse for orphans, on a strip of floor in a gambling house, in an army barracks, on any sheltered spot beside a rock or beneath a tree, and sometimes even in the comfort of a house or a hotel.
But never home .
He hurried back inside, an odd pressure burning in his chest. Jade stood by the stove, waiting for the big copper coffeepot to boil. She smiled at him over her shoulder. Her hair formed a riot of curls and her damp cotton dress clung to her skin, revealing the curves of her body. In her green eyes Carl could read the questions she lacked the courage to ask.
Why did you come back?
Will you stay?
‘The stage line had no…suitable jobs.’ He skirted around the lie.
‘I’m glad.’ She picked up a cloth to protect her hand and lifted the lid on the coffee pot to peer inside. ‘There’s been so much happening here. Pa—’
‘Later.’ He hung his dripping hat on a peg by the door, tossed his saddlebags on the floor and crossed the room, leaving a trail of muddy footsteps in his wake. He reached around Jade, tugged the cloth from her hand and shoved the copper pot away from the heat. Curling one arm around her waist, he ushered her toward the bedroom.
Desire arrowed through him, so powerful his body trembled. By the bedside, he paused to peel away his wet coat, letting it fall to the floor. Boots, trousers and shirt followed, scattering on the hooked rug and bare boards.
Jade stood watching him, hesitation reflected on her features.
‘I need you,’ he said simply. ‘Right now.’
Naked, cold ripples rising on his damp skin, heavy arousal jutting up in his groin, he turned toward her. With impatient hands he stripped away her dress, snagging a button here, ripping a seam there.
‘Slow down,’ Jade scolded, too stunned to help or resist.
‘No.’
And then he had her bare. Her skin glowed in the lamplight that spilled in through the open door. Carl hesitated, surprised that Jade didn’t protest the lack of privacy. He considered going to kick the door shut, but he wanted to see her, and couldn’t bear the thought of releasing her long enough to fetch the lamp that burned in the living room.
He brushed aside concern over the possibility that Sam might get out of bed and peek into the room to see what was causing the unexpected sounds. In a single fluid motion, Carl braced one arm against the mattress, lowered Jade on the bed, and settled on top of her.
Her eyes were huge pools of green as she stared up at him. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she whispered. ‘Every night, I waited on the porch.’ Her slender legs rose to coil around his waist, as if warning him that she would hold on to him and not let him leave again.
Carl didn’t want to think about the future or the past, about promises kept or broken. Shaken by the strength of his craving for
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