The Horseman

He wasn’t a saint. He looked at her, blood stampeding through his veins. His ears buzzed. His vision blurred. He panted for air in short, fast gasps. He was instantly throbbing hard.

It was all he could do not to reach through that sheen of glittering water and fill his hands with her soft breasts. So big, they’d fit his hands with some to spare. If only he had the right to touch her like that. Love her like that. He’d make sure to take care of her. To give her pleasure. To make her want him.

“Oh, Charles Dickens.” Even her voice aroused him more. Soft as a caress on bare skin.

She’s not yours yet, Hennessey. He fought for control as he handed her the thick book. She was talking, but her words came from so far away and he couldn’t hear them over the drum of his pulse in his ears. A beat that pounded through his entire body. How he wanted her. Needed her.

This is for her, remember that. As much as he wanted to haul her wet and naked into his arms, he turned his back and grabbed the pitcher from the nightstand to fill Katelyn’s tin cup. The cold water and the cool cup felt like ice in his hand. He heard the tinkle of water as Katelyn settled back to read her book.

Just give her the cup. And don’t stare. Don’t scare her.

“Dillon, how can I ever thank you enough?” Her face was flushed from the heat. A healthy glow. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure.

“This is only the beginning, ma’am.” He set the cup within reach and kept his attention on her face. She was lovely. He ached with the need to touch her. If only to run one fingertip down the inviting curve of her face.

“So, this is how a real man treats a lady? He pours her a bath and watches her?”

“Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t be sitting here.” His face burned, but he stayed right where he was. “But a real man doesn’t leave a job half-finished.”

“What job?”

“Why, ma’am, I brought up the tub and the water, but there’s more work to be done. It goes against my conscience to be a lazybones and leave you to do all the work.”

“What work?”

“Why, that’s a complicated question. The first answer would be this. It’s my duty to help you feel better. After what you’ve been through and how you were treated, it’s my sworn duty to show you not all men are jackasses.”

“Sworn duty?” Over the top of A Tale of Two Cities, the humor vanished from her face. Wariness crept in.

Just how much had that bastard hurt her? A slow burning rage tasted bitter on his tongue as he eased around to the back of the tub. Slow. Easy. He wasn’t about to frighten her. “That’s right, ma’am. Relax, it’s all right. Keep reading.”

She turned with a swish of water to watch him. “What are you doing?”

“Me? I’m simply following the rules.”

“What rules?”

“Real men’s rules. They’re like commandments. A decent man always follows them.”

“Decent? You call gazing down at a bathing woman decent?” Some of the wariness was easing.

He kept his voice low and easy and warm, as he did when he talked to horses. “Just mind your business, ma’am, and read your book. Leave the rest up to me.”

“Dillon.” She tensed. Her jaw tightened. Her eyes pinched. The wariness crept back. “I thought you would leave. I know what my stepfather said, but you can’t-I’m not-”

Sure she was worried and expected the worst. She’d been hurt and hurt badly. Didn’t know if men did anything else. Just like the horses he worked with. And he knew exactly what to do. Exactly what she needed.

“I know. Believe me, I would never hurt you.” He gathered her long hair and slipped it over her shoulder, baring her neck.

He touched her before she could leap up and bolt for safety, before her nervousness could escalate into panic. He drew up the warmth from his heart, the way his grandfather taught him, so she could feel him. Feel that he meant her no harm.

He felt her intake of breath. Yeah, she felt him all right. His hands stroked up the length of her neck, from shoulder line to her hairline and on up past to the crown of her head. A light, soft, slow touch. “Like that?”

“Oh.” She breathed the word. “Yes.”

“See? It’s a job to serve a pretty lady.”

“You’re just trying to convince me to m-marry you. You said so.” She stiffened and shuddered.

He could feel the hurt move through her and into him. “That I did. I’m just being honest. That’s the best course between a man and a woman, don’t you think?”

She nodded, her beautiful face pinched. Yeah, it was as he thought. So much pain.

It’s okay, my sweet angel. It’s all right now. He stroked his fingertips up her spine again. He could feel the rounds of her vertebrae, the heated satin of her skin, the gossamer softness of her hair.

His trousers became more uncomfortable as he grew unbelievably harder. There was no denying the desire that pulsed through him. Hard like a hammer’s blow. But this wasn’t about his needs. His desires.

He wove his thumbs up her neck, digging in between those small vertebrae.

“Oh, that’s nice.” She leaned into his touch, just a bit.

That’s right. It feels good, doesn’t it, honey? As if in answer, she sighed in a long, slow release. A contented sound. Yeah, she liked it. She liked his touch. I’m gonna make you feel better, see?

He cradled his left hand at the base of her skull. She didn’t rest her head, she didn’t trust him yet. Fine, he’d show her that she could. He stroked along her hairline, behind her right ear and lingered when he heard the tiny moan low in her throat. He ran his hand across her brow. Over the top of her head in slow easy circles.

She rested the weight of her head in his palm.

That’s right, angel. He wanted to hop up and dance a jig. Throw open the window and shout his triumph to the wind. Instead he caressed the length of his hand down her neck and into the dip of her right shoulder.

“Oh.” She sighed.

He kept going along her shoulder and down her arm and back again. I’m going to treat you good and gentle. I’m going to make it all better. I can do that for you. Yes I can, sweet lady. See?

As if in answer, she relaxed even more. Sank lower into the steaming water. He held her head steady. Caught the book as it began to tip out of her hands.

“I’ll just put that over here.” He had to smile. Her eyes drifted shut, her face as soft as if she were sleeping, as trouble free.

He’d done that for her. It made him feel good, manly, satisfied. She was his now, whether she admitted it or not. But she’d already decided it. He could feel it in her surrender.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Affection began to grow in his lonely heart. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never hurt you like that. Never.

“Here’s your book.” He retrieved it for her, found the page she’d been reading and placed it into her hands.

“That was wonderful.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.” His clothes rustled and a knee joint cracked as he straightened to his full height.

She felt his gaze as strongly as if he’d reached into the water and grabbed hold of her breasts. Why wasn’t she upset about that? She pulsed at the thought. She glowed all over. Every inch of her.

From his touch.

“It’s your job to gape at my naked form?”

“It sure is.” A blush crept up from his collar to his chin and stained his cheeks. Bashful, but he didn’t look away. “Since I mean to marry you, I might as well see what I’ll be getting.”

“That was indecent.” She tossed the washcloth at him.

He caught it in midair before it could hit him in the face. “Yeah, but you liked it. Want more?”

“More?” Oh, heavens, yes. The thought of his touch, like rapture along her skin, like bliss to her soul, made her want. Made desire swell low in her abdomen. She’d never felt like this before.