Jodi Thomas by The Texans Wager Page B

same. Or at least she predicted it would be once the cuts healed.
    “If you’re going to take up the habit of shaving, I suggest you allow me to assist you, at least for a while. I often shaved my father. A good soap might help the blade slide easier across your face.” She was rambling as she worked, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “My father didn’t have much of a beard, but he was fond of wearing a goatee and never seemed to be able to get it right without my help.”
    The cut on his throat stopped bleeding. Bailee wiped away the excess yarrow leaves and smiled down at him.
    “I didn’t mind so much kissing you with the beard. Honest I didn’t. I could get used to it in time.”
    She brushed his hair back from his face and felt its dampness. “I could cut your hair as well, if you like. Not that I think it’s too long or anything.” She didn’t want him to think she was one of those women who wanted to make a man over the minute she met him.
    She moved her fingers into his hair, feeling its thickness. “I’m a fair barber.”
    One by one she worked on the thin cuts. It wasn’t easy. The rest of his body kept getting in the way. When she stumbled over his legs and feet for the third time, he lifted her onto his lap without comment.
    Bailee didn’t take the time to tell him that it was most improper for a woman to sit on a man’s lap. She had more important concems. But she couldn’t ignore the way his arm rested around her waist, almost casually, as if he’d done so a thousand times.
    With a brushing of the towel across his collar, she finally met his gaze. “There now. You weren’t as wounded as I feared. If you’ll remove that shirt, I’ll soak it in cold water.”
    She would have stood, but he held her tight. His gaze studied her closely. Pretending she didn’t notice his arm about her, she began unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s never good to let blood set in cotton.”
    His free hand moved to her neck and pulled the strings holding her apron. Slowly his fingers slipped down the front of her dress, crumpling the top of the apron to her waist. When he passed over her breast, she made a little sound of surprise.
    He stopped, his hand cupping her fullness, his blue eyes searching her face.
    Bailee knew she should pull away, or say something to let him know that his actions weren’t proper. But she reminded herself that he was her husband, and though his touch was bold, it was not at all unpleasant.
    Her silence challenged him.
    This time his fingers didn’t just pass over. This time he felt of her, warming her flesh even through the layers of cotton.
    She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his solid arm, telling herself she’d demand he stop in a minute. One minute couldn’t matter. For a short time she wanted only the unexpected pleasure of such an intimate encounter.
    He shifted her body and placed his elbow on the table, gently pushing her into the circle of his arm. She made no protest as she nestled into the warmth of his embrace, loving the way he held her as though she were fragile.
    Suddenly he lowered his mouth to cover hers and tasted her cry of surprise.
    His lips parted, claiming her mouth more boldly than he had in the barn. His hand moved along the side of her body in a hesitant caress.
    She didn’t move as his kiss turned gentle and searching. His hands migrated over her, stroking her with a caress that said he’d never touched a woman. He ended the kiss and moved his lips to her throat, tasting her skin. He buried his face into her hair and breathed deep, almost as an animal finds his mate by scent.
    She moved within his arms, thinking she should pull away. But he held her securely as he raised his head and looked down at her with searching eyes.
    When he returned to claim her lips once more, there was a hunger in his kiss, a need far deeper than curiosity in his touch.
    Bailee felt dizzy, surrounded. Frantic, she fought for control. She shouldn’t behave like