Shannon cocked her head, listening despite her nearly overwhelming awareness of Whip’s body close to hers, their breaths mingling, the strong surge of the pulse in his neck. After the space of a few breaths, she heard the rhythms Whip was counting. She began counting with him, softly.
«That’s it,» Whip said. «Now, beginning with your right foot, follow my lead.»
Whip’s grip on Shannon changed, becoming more secure, guiding her at all times and supporting her if she wavered. He began with simple steps, but quickly went on to more intricate ones as it became clear that Shannon was capable of more than schoolroom exercises.
«Are you certain you don’t know how to waltz?» Whip asked, turning swiftly, taking Shannon with him.
She laughed and hung on to Whip, trusting him to lead her through the dance. His strength and confidence made learning easy for her.
«I’ve dreamed of dancing like this,» Shannon said softly to Whip, «but I never did it. The closest I came was huddling behind the potted plants and peeking through the balustrade at all the lovely, swirling dancers.»
«How old were you?»
«Five or six or seven. It was a long, long time ago,» Shannon said absently, counting the beat, «before Papa deserted us and Mama took to laudanum.»
Whip was shocked, but he didn’t pursue the subject. He wanted to erase the shadows from Shannon’s magnificent eyes, not create more darkness by recalling unhappy memories.
«I think she’s ready for a polka,» Whip said, looking over Shannon’s head to Caleb.
Immediately the harmonica’s music went from stately to raucous, with rollicking refrains that made Willow laugh out loud and tap her foot to the driving, infectious rhythm.
«Hear the beat?» Whip asked Shannon.
«I’d have to be dead not to!»
«Or dead drunk,» he said. «I suspect the Germans invented this dance as a way to get thirsty enough to drink beer all night long.»
Whip took Shannon’s hands and placed them on his shoulders. By now her foot was tapping along with Willow’s.
«Ready?» he asked.
«For what?»
«To romp with me like I was Prettyface and we were in a high-mountain meadow with nothing around but wildflowers and the sun.»
The thought of romping like that with Whip charmed Shannon. Laughter gleamed in her eyes and curved her lips into a dazzling smile.
Then laughter fled in a hot rush as Whip put his hands on her hips. His fingers flexed subtly, savoring the feminine flesh just beneath the worn cloth trousers. The smile he gave her was as reckless and sexy as the glittering light in his eyes.
With no more warning than that, Whip began the polka, counting out the measure as he had the waltz. But this time his voice was nearly a shout rather than a murmur. Shannon caught on quickly, for the polka was much more simple than the waltz. Whatever lack of experience she had was more than made up for by Whip’s sheer strength. If Shannon faltered, Whip simply lifted her right off her feet.
Soon the two of them were romping and stomping from the living room to the kitchen and down the hall and back again. Every few steps Whip would lift Shannon entirely off her feet, whirl her around, then set her down and head off in another direction.
Cheeks flushed, eyes alight, laughing, Shannon gave herself to the music and to the man who laughed and danced with her. Finally, on the tenth trip from living room to kitchen, she was breathless from laughter and from the polka itself. She clung to Whip and begged for mercy. He whirled her around once more, feet off the ground, and hugged her close, for they were in the kitchen where there was no one to see.
«I know you weren’t flirting with Cal,» Whip said softly. «But if you had smiled like that at me, I’d have wanted to do…this.»
As he spoke, the humor in Whip’s eyes gave way to the passion he no longer could conceal. He bent his head and took Shannon’s mouth in a quick, deep, hungry kiss.
«And then I would have wanted more, so damned much more,» Whip said softly, breathing hard, holding Shannon against him. «I want you, honey girl. Virgin or widow or wife, heaven or hell or everything between, I want all of it.»
With a low sound, Whip let Shannon slide down his body, making no attempt to conceal his arousal from her.
Her breath fragmented over his name.
«Tell Cal and Willy that I went to check on Sugarfoot,» Whip said hoarsely.
The back door banged, leaving Shannon alone in the kitchen with her heart beating frantically and the taste of Whip in her mouth like wine.
14
The next morning a wind howled down the peaks, herding brief, wild thunderstorms down the long green valley where Caleb and Willow had built their home. As Whip came inside, he held the doorknob carefully, making sure the front door didn’t slip from his grasp and slam shut behind him.
Shannon was in the living room, sitting by a window in one of the chairs Caleb had made. In her hands was one of Willow’s gingham blouses. Shannon was making tiny, neat stitches in the sleeve where the seam had given way.
«Where’s Willy?» Whip asked.
«She’s taking a nap with Ethan.»
Whip smiled almost sheepishly. «Cal told me that we woke Ethan up with our dancing last night.»
Pink brightened Shannon’s cheeks, put there by the memory of Whip’s hard kiss and even harder body.
«Ethan wasn’t awake for long,» Shannon said. «He went right back to sleep when Willow sang to him. She has such a beautiful voice.»
«You should hear her sing with Reno and Eve,» Whip said, smiling. «Together they have the kind of harmony that would make angels weep with envy. Christmas was a special time last year, with all of us being together and the carols being so beautifully sung.»
«It must have been wonderful,» Shannon said, her voice wistful.
Whip looked at Shannon. Her face looked less drawn now than it had a week ago. So did her body. Sitting in the sturdy house with mending in her hands and a glass window nearby with sunlight shining through, she was as relaxed as a cat lying next to a warm hearth.
«You like it here, don’t you?» Whip asked.
«It would be hard not to. Caleb and Willow are generous with their hearts and their home. Seeing them makes me realize how much my parents missed in their marriage.»
«Reno and Eve are the same as Cal and Willy. So are Wolfe and Jessi. Must be something in the western air.»
Shannon glanced away from Whip, not wanting him to see the emotion in her eyes when she looked at him and thought of a home, a marriage, a sharing of life and love and children with Whip.
But that wouldn’t happen. Shannon knew it as surely as she knew that Whip was a yondering man. Yet she couldn’t stop loving him.
So she looked away from what she knew she couldn’t have.
But Shannon didn’t turn aside quickly enough. Whip had already seen her dreams. He had seen the hope she couldn’t deny, and the love, and the sadness of knowing that someday he would leave her. The fact that Shannon didn’t scold him or demand his love in return made Whip feel more trapped and restless than ever — and at the same time, it made him want her until every muscle in his body was flexed in the brutal tug-of-war between restraint and consummation.
Whip glanced quickly at the hallway that led to the bedrooms. The door to the nursery was closed. So was
