close or make a move to tilt him toward her. He did take up more room than Joe ever had. She lay flat on her back, the sheet tucked snugly beneath her armpits, and stared at the darkened ceiling, afraid of herself, afraid of the way her head and her body reacted to this man.
"Until you're ready," he added.
Oh, Lord. She would never sleep again.
Tye had fueled the stove and heated water, and now carried a pitcher back to the bowl on the bureau. Meg mustn't have slept well, and he saw no reason to wake her now. She lay on her side with one hand curled daintily beneath her cheek, the other on his pillow.
The sheet had pulled loose from the end of the bed, exposing a delicate foot and a length of silky calf. Tye's belly ached with the desire to place his face against her morning skin and inhale her. Taste her. His wife. He'd start at her foot and make his way up her leg…
Don't you think that is serious? she'd asked. He'd never looked at intimate relations from her perspective before, so he'd never considered just how serious they could be. He'd never thought of sex as right or wrong, serious or not. In his experience it had been merely a fact of life. Sometimes pleasant, sometimes manipulative, sometimes a service, sex had never taken on the serious aspects he could see it having with someone like Meg.
Yes. With Meg, it would be serious.
He forced himself to face the mirror and lather his whiskers, tamping down the unruly thoughts that would have him in a state of arousal all day. He smiled, remembering her gentle and flustered request that he not visit a whore.
As if there were a whore in the entire state with more appeal than Meg. As if there were a woman in the world with more appeal. He'd admired her from the first time he'd seen her.
She'd been nine—ten, maybe—and sitting on the school lawn with the other girls. They'd been braiding one another's hair, and Jacky Mabley's sister—he couldn't remember her name … Joanie? Janie?—sat behind Meg, separating Meg's tawny tresses. Sunlight had glinted like golden fire in her hair, and Tye had wanted to tell Jacky's sister not to spoil that spectacular display by hiding Meg's hair in braids. But he hadn't, of course. He hadn't even spoken. He'd just walked around them as if he were going somewhere, and stopped to take a longer look at Meg. She'd smiled at him, her new adult teeth pearly white.
He'd looked away and run into the schoolroom to study his times tables. None of the kids played with him, and Mr. Brickey let him come in early from lunch so he didn't have to endure the humiliation of their childish cruelty.
Meg had always had a smile for him. Even when they grew older, when the other girls and their mothers refused to look him in the eye, Meg had met his eyes and smiled.
He guessed he'd always loved her.
Tye stared hard at his reflection, shocked that there were words to go with what he'd felt. She'd always been untouchable. A town girl. Joe's girl. Joe's wife. He'd never allowed himself to analyze his feelings; that would have been disastrous. Futile.
But now. Now. She was … his wife.
Tye made the last stroke across his jaw, slowly wiped away the lather with his damp towel and turned.
She studied him, those tawny eyes shot with golden sparks like the morning sun. "Morning," he said.
She drew her seductive foot up beneath the sheet. "Morning."
"I'll bring you some water."
"I slept so late."
"Not really. I woke up early." He dumped the water outside and returned with a fresh pitcher for her. She was sitting, holding the sheet to her breast. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in becoming disarray and tempted a man's fingers. "Thank you."
He curled his fingertips into his palms. "You do a lot of thoughtful things for me."
"I do? Like what?"
"Like bringing me water, pouring my coffee, nursing my leg."
"Those are just ordinary things."
"Are they?"
She studied him, her eyes pretty with sleep.
"I wouldn't know." He'd never had a wife. Never
"Until you're ready," he added.
Oh, Lord. She would never sleep again.
Tye had fueled the stove and heated water, and now carried a pitcher back to the bowl on the bureau. Meg mustn't have slept well, and he saw no reason to wake her now. She lay on her side with one hand curled daintily beneath her cheek, the other on his pillow.
The sheet had pulled loose from the end of the bed, exposing a delicate foot and a length of silky calf. Tye's belly ached with the desire to place his face against her morning skin and inhale her. Taste her. His wife. He'd start at her foot and make his way up her leg…
Don't you think that is serious? she'd asked. He'd never looked at intimate relations from her perspective before, so he'd never considered just how serious they could be. He'd never thought of sex as right or wrong, serious or not. In his experience it had been merely a fact of life. Sometimes pleasant, sometimes manipulative, sometimes a service, sex had never taken on the serious aspects he could see it having with someone like Meg.
Yes. With Meg, it would be serious.
He forced himself to face the mirror and lather his whiskers, tamping down the unruly thoughts that would have him in a state of arousal all day. He smiled, remembering her gentle and flustered request that he not visit a whore.
As if there were a whore in the entire state with more appeal than Meg. As if there were a woman in the world with more appeal. He'd admired her from the first time he'd seen her.
She'd been nine—ten, maybe—and sitting on the school lawn with the other girls. They'd been braiding one another's hair, and Jacky Mabley's sister—he couldn't remember her name … Joanie? Janie?—sat behind Meg, separating Meg's tawny tresses. Sunlight had glinted like golden fire in her hair, and Tye had wanted to tell Jacky's sister not to spoil that spectacular display by hiding Meg's hair in braids. But he hadn't, of course. He hadn't even spoken. He'd just walked around them as if he were going somewhere, and stopped to take a longer look at Meg. She'd smiled at him, her new adult teeth pearly white.
He'd looked away and run into the schoolroom to study his times tables. None of the kids played with him, and Mr. Brickey let him come in early from lunch so he didn't have to endure the humiliation of their childish cruelty.
Meg had always had a smile for him. Even when they grew older, when the other girls and their mothers refused to look him in the eye, Meg had met his eyes and smiled.
He guessed he'd always loved her.
Tye stared hard at his reflection, shocked that there were words to go with what he'd felt. She'd always been untouchable. A town girl. Joe's girl. Joe's wife. He'd never allowed himself to analyze his feelings; that would have been disastrous. Futile.
But now. Now. She was … his wife.
Tye made the last stroke across his jaw, slowly wiped away the lather with his damp towel and turned.
She studied him, those tawny eyes shot with golden sparks like the morning sun. "Morning," he said.
She drew her seductive foot up beneath the sheet. "Morning."
"I'll bring you some water."
"I slept so late."
"Not really. I woke up early." He dumped the water outside and returned with a fresh pitcher for her. She was sitting, holding the sheet to her breast. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in becoming disarray and tempted a man's fingers. "Thank you."
He curled his fingertips into his palms. "You do a lot of thoughtful things for me."
"I do? Like what?"
"Like bringing me water, pouring my coffee, nursing my leg."
"Those are just ordinary things."
"Are they?"
She studied him, her eyes pretty with sleep.
"I wouldn't know." He'd never had a wife. Never
Similar Books
