and all-powerful as he seemed awake. He looked peaceful, younger. His hair was a mess and the blanket twisted across his body.
She moved to his side and pulled the blanket over more of his bare chest. She’d always thought men slept in nightshirts, but this one didn’t. His chest bore the bronze hue of his Indian blood. The skin seemed stretched over muscles made of wood. Too hard to be human, she thought. A man made of oak.
Hesitantly she brushed her fingers over his shoulder, surprised at the warmth beneath her touch.
He didn’t move.
Kora grew bolder. Her fingers lightly brushed across his chest, feeling the curve of his skin as a sculptor feels his wood carving. He was magnificent. She rested her palm over his heart, feeling the strong, steady pounding against her hand.
Kora smiled, fighting down a giggle. She felt terribly wicked touching him while he slept. She’d wanted to touch him when she’d seen the water dripping off his chest earlier, but she never dared. He hadn’t looked at her with eyes burning with fire as Jamie said a man should look at a woman. He didn’t reach for her and demand something of her she’d never given any man. She was just useful to him, nothing more.
She let her finger run over the short whiskers along his strong jaw. Hesitantly she brushed back the dark brown hair off his forehead. He was her man, she thought, if only for a while, and she’d touch him, if only in his sleep. He might not see her, but she saw him. For the first time she wished for a man like him to love. He was everything she admired and dreamt about. But it would hurt too much if he were special to her and she was just somebody, anybody, to him.
When he moved slightly, turning his head, her fingers brushed the fullness of his slightly opened mouth. The mustache tickled her fingertip. Kora felt a fire race through her arm and warm her entire body.
She knelt beside him, careful not to touch him anywhere else as she leaned slowly forward and brushed her lips over his. She told herself she only wanted to feel what a man’s lips would be like against hers, but she knew it was more. Kora wanted to taste him. He might be stronger than she’d ever be. But he was also beautiful in a way she’d never thought a man could be.
From the first, even through her fear, she was fascinated by him.
Her lips gave slightly against his. She could feel the warmth of his face and smell a wildness that blended leather and campfires and lye soap… and the wind and the rain of a great storm together into a smell that was only his. His skin had been hard with the muscles beneath, but his mouth was surprisingly soft, yielding to the pressure of her lips.
Pulling away suddenly, Kora was shocked at her own boldness. Touching a man was something Jamie might do. She was the one who always followed her feelings and desires, not Kora. Kora always followed duty.
Silently she slipped from the room, thankful Winter had been asleep and would never know of her actions. She’d never done anything so insane or so bold. He’d wanted a marriage because of the house. He’d shown no interest in her, and if he had, he would have probably frightened her to death. But despite what they’d agreed on, he belonged to her now. Legally this wild, powerful man was hers.
Running up the stairs, Kora felt her face redden with embarrassment as her heart pounded wildly. What if he had awakened? Or what if he’d thought her mad? She’d always been the logical one, always done what had to be done, never letting her feelings interfere. But when she looked at Win, she thought of what might be.
She had to keep her distance. He’d shown no sign of wanting to be near her. He was wealthier than anyone she’d ever known. He commanded an empire built on strength and honesty. Jamie was right. If they did sleep together, she’d have to explain about how she had never lain with her first husband, and Winter would find out what a lying, conniving opportunist she was. No honest man like Winter would want a wife who fooled the world into believing a dead man had married her.
Kora reached the attic and took a long breath, determined never to do anything so foolish as touching him again. She would keep her distance from Winter McQuillen. For her own sake, she could never afford to touch him as she had again. Fate and her past seemed to have stacked the deck against her, and the ante for a love that might not be returned was too high a price to pay.
SIX
KORA LAY DOWN ON THE PILE OF COLORFUL QUILTS she’d brought up to the attic. The blankets were beautifully done in rainbow colors and smelled of the cedar chests she’d found them in. She curled into a ball and smiled at the warm sun shining through the windows. There was a time that Kora thought they’d never see the sun again. The year they’d first been on their own, Kora managed to get work in a bakery just a bottle’s throw from New Orleans’ Bourbon Street. She had gone to work before dawn and never left until after dusk. She hadn’t hated the work, only the city. Dan’s ghosts were bad back then. Many nights she walked home after work only to find him and little Jamie asleep on the step of what had been their apartment when she’d left at dawn. The memories chilled her now with a cold reality that not even the quilts could keep at bay.
After an hour she gave up trying to sleep, washed carefully, and fixed her hair in a neat bun. Since she only had one dress other than the one she’d been married in, she put it on and hoped she looked presentable. The blue once matched her eyes, but the material was now faded to a gray color.
The house was quiet, sleeping like a lazy cat in the morning sun. Last night’s rain made the air crisp and clean. She tiptoed down the stairs, smiling at the unbelievable possibility that she might be allowed to live in such a place even for a little while.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, someone rapped on the door with an impatient sound, startling her.
Kora glanced around, unsure of what to do. Slowly she walked to the front entrance. The rapping came again, more impatient this time. Her hand touched the knob.
Winter bolted from the study, pulling his shirt on as he moved. ‘‘Hands come to the kitchen door,’’ he said as he lifted his gunbelt from the rack. ‘‘And I’m not expecting company.’’
As he buckled on the gunbelt, he nodded once, telling her to turn the knob.
She pulled, intending to open only slightly, but the door suddenly flew toward her with a shove and Kora found herself pushed backward by the force.
A woman in her mid-twenties hurried in with white lace and red ruffles flying. She was tall with raven hair and ivory skin. Pretty, in a staged way.
‘‘Winter!’’ the intruder shouted, lifting her arms in greeting.
When he didn’t move toward her, she slowed and touched him on the shoulder, as if trying to brush away his coldness.
‘‘I know I’m late and this is the last day, but I couldn’t stay away. I had to come to you in your hour of darkest need.’’
He seemed to be made of stone as the woman in frills wrapped her arms around one of his like fast-growing ivy. She moved against him, pressing his sleeve between her breasts.
‘‘I know I was cruel to you, but I thought you’d care enough to try harder.’’ Her voice rose to a cry and her body rocked against him. ‘‘Then I decided you were too broken to ask again and I’d have to be the one to come to you. How could you believe I’d be so heartless as to let you down?’’
Winter looked over the woman’s hat to Kora. There was no emotion in his stare, making Kora wonder if he’d ever seen the intruder before. For an instant, Kora wanted to laugh, for this strong man she’d married flashed her a ‘‘help me’’ expression she’d thought she would never live to see.
‘‘I’ll make it up to you, darling.’’ The woman backed a step away from him and pulled off her white kid gloves. ‘‘While I was riding out here, I thought I’d go to Dallas as soon as possible after we’re married and buy all new furnishings for this place. If it were fixed up, it could be livable.’’ She glanced around. ‘‘Of course, we could always build another house. A far bigger one and let a foreman have this. As soon as we’re back from our honeymoon, I’d make the house twice as grand as Miss Allie ever thought about it being.’’
Winter stared at her as though she spoke in an unknown tongue. ‘‘I don’t have a foreman,’’ he mumbled.
