Jonah's Bride

might be able to take care of his bride. 'I'll take your trunk up to my chamber.'

'Oh.' Her eyes widened. She paled suddenly, as if struck ill. Or realizing that tonight they would share a bed.

Heat thrummed in his groin. The thought of her naked beneath him, her head thrown back in passion made his pulse jump, made him want, just want. He would never forget the heady taste of her passion-laced kiss or the little catch in her breath when he'd first touched her breasts. He wanted to hear that sound again, right now. He wanted to see her with candlelight brushing her full breasts. He wanted her naked and out of control and all his.

Somehow, he managed to help her down from the wagon and shouldered her trunk from the back of the wagon bed. He followed her through the parlor and up the stairs to his chamber down the hall. She didn't meet his gaze as she stood before the window, the gray light limning her lean woman's curves and the sensual luxury of her dark hair.

His groin thrummed, and his breeches felt unusually tight. Aye, he wanted her. Tonight she would be his. 'The reverend should be here within the next half hour.'

She looked at him with eyes wide with apprehension. 'I need to change into my dress.'

He set the trunk along the wall by the door and tried not to imagine how she would peel off that dark sensible dress and reveal the soft firm breasts beneath.

'I'll leave you alone, then.' He turned before he imagined undressing her further. 'I need to check on Father.'

She merely nodded, her arms wrapped tight around her middle. He left her then, his shaft bent double in his breeches, hard and pulsing, and closed the door.

Tonight would not be soon enough to make her his.

'Jonah,' Father called, weak and thin sounding.

'I'm here.' Taking a breath, he tried to will away the very pulse of his blood, then crossed the hall. The chamber still smelled of sickness-a weak, low scent that reminded him of midnight.

Father struggled to turn his head on the pillows. 'You caught me reading. The good news of your wedding has helped me improve. I believe I can almost sit up.'

'Mayhap I can read to you, as long as you stay lying down.' Jonah pulled the wooden chair close to the bed, concern and tenderness for this man warm in his chest.

' 'Twould be a great comfort. 'Tis a new volume of poetry by John Donne.'

'Hand me the book. Where is Andy? I thought he would have offered to read to you.'

Father's hands trembled with terrible weakness as he handed over the slim, leather-bound book. 'Seeing to hiring a few village women for a celebration dinner. Since we lost Sarah when her term was done, we are in sore need of help. We can't expect Tessa to wait upon all four of us men. Not if you get her with child soon.'

'Aye, the son you expect of me.' Jonah cracked open the book with practiced care.

Dark eyes glimmered. 'Have you bedded her yet, boy?'

'What?'

Father's laughter, punctuated by a cough or two, filled the room with his happiness. 'I may be a sick old man staring death straight in the face, but I'm sharp enough yet to recognize certain things. I remember what lust looks like. And feels like, too.'

'You heard how Ely came upon us last night.'

'Aye, no doubt the entire village knows. Tessa is a wise choice in a wife, good and kind. And if you cannot keep your hands off her, 'tis even better. A warm wife in bed makes for a contented husband.'

'More of your wisdom, eh?' Jonah leafed past the title page of the volume.

'You chose well.' Father closed his eyes. 'Read to me, son.'

Jonah began reading aloud, hearing the tightness in his own voice. And as the clock ticked patiently on the mantle above the fire, he felt his bachelorhood slip away. It was much to surrender, but his father had asked this of him. So he would marry Tessa and hope for the best

'Tessa, Reverend Brown is here.' A knock rattled the closed door.

'I'll be right out.' She gave her hair one more brush stroke. Her worries had turned into a full-fledged panic. Only the thought of returning to Grandfather's home kept her steady enough to open the door.

Jonah held out his hand. 'Come. Father is waiting.'

He was a man used to issuing orders and having them followed, a war hero, a leader of men. Her heart stammered at the sight of him.

'I suppose no one in my family has arrived.' She laid her fingers against his palm, rough and callused but solid and comforting and oh, so hot.

'Nay. Ely proclaimed he did not approve of the union, especially since he discovered me with my hands down your bodice.' A wry grin twisted his mouth, and pleasure snapped in his eyes.

Oh, he looked proud of himself for that. 'I never should have allowed you such liberties. Else you could be marrying a more suitable bride.'

He halted at the head of the stairs. One dark brow quirked. 'Is that what you think? That I'm forced to take you as my wife?'

She swallowed and nodded.

'Tessa.' His voice melted, like butter before heat, supple and warm. 'I can think of no other I could stomach as well as you for my wife.'

'Aye, so now you make jokes.'

'Well, we need a jest to relieve this tension. Besides, I don't want a silly child for a wife. We went to school together, and I survived your sharp tongue.'

'As I survived your braid pulling.'

'I say we shall do fine enough in a marriage.' His dark eyes sizzled, stroking across her breasts with a glittering look of anticipation. 'I have sampled enough to expect good things to come.'

'Aye, you are a devil's spawn.' She blushed, her stomach tumbling to her knees. This man was trouble, pure and simple. And yet he was her best chance for a real future, for marriage and happiness and children.

He cared for her enough to pay Grandfather and Horace Walling, enough to marry her. Not every man who ruined a woman's reputation offered her his last name. Jonah cared for her, and that thought fortified her. Made it easier to flash him a smile as they descended into the parlor where the minister waited.

'Let us start this ceremony before both of us drop dead from the anxiety.'

'Brace yourself, Mistress Tessa.' Thomas caught her hand to wish her luck. 'You're marrying a rogue no other woman would have.'

She laughed, for his eyes teased. 'Aye, I know. 'Tis a foolhardy thing I do, but mayhap it will earn me a spot in heaven for marrying such a toad.'

'An ugly toad, no less,' Andy piped up.

'Enough.' Jonah boomed, holding up one hand. 'Stay the insults. Make fun all you want after the ceremony. I have a great need to make this woman my wife.'

His arm slipped around her waist, and they faced the minister together. Laughter filled the elegant parlor, despite the gray weather outside, despite the solemn occasion.

'Dearly beloved,' the reverend began and the room quieted so that the tick of the clock sounded loud, louder than the rain tapping at the diamond paned windows, even louder than the erratic beat of her heart.

With the simple words of 'I do,' and a kiss so hot her toes felt afire, she became Mrs. Jonah Hunter.

'He's asleep.' Jonah knelt at the old man's bedside, next to his quiet wife, merely a shadow sitting out of reach of the single taper's light. 'Andy will stay with him the rest of the night.'

Her eyes widened, and she knew what he was thinking. What had to come next? He had bided his time all afternoon and evening, blood zinging through his veins, knowing she was to be his. He could not explain this physical desire for her, but it grew in intensity with every breath he took.

The knowledge of what was to come shadowed her face. So dark they were, lustrous and inviting. So dark the pupils in her eyes. Luminous with desire. 'The colonel is exhausted from today's excitement. I don't want to take my eyes off him.'