grace, she moved around him, touching him where he
stood, stroking herself against his back, coming to face him again. With the
back of her hand she reached down and brushed against his erection.
Sam tensed his body and felt blood rush to the place she had
touched. He'd never dreamed such feverish goings-on in the middle of the day.
He'd been married twenty years and never done this in the kitchen in broad
daylight.
He definitely received the message that she was willing. No
pussyfooting around between them. He liked that.
Sam swept her up and carried her into the bedroom, where he tossed
her into the middle of the bed and followed. She laughed and scrambled to her
knees, then watched him with hooded eyes while he removed her corset and
plumped her breasts in his palms.
Her gaze constantly moved across his arms and chest, down to the
front of his trousers, as though she was eager to see more. What kind of heaven
on earth had he gone and found himself without even trying?
She shucked off her pantaloons and stood on her knees before him
in the middle of the bed, pale skin creased by her corset, her breasts full and
round with rosy nipples. Her eyes devoured him and her full pouty lips begged
for his kisses. He leaned toward her, but she stopped him with a hand on his
chest.
"Your turn, cowboy."
Sam stood beside the bed to remove his trousers.
Unembarrassed, she watched. Sam didn't know if his wife had ever
looked at him naked. If she had, she'd never let him see her looking.
"Touch me here, cowboy." She took his hand and guided it
where she wanted him to explore.
Uninhibited. He'd never known the full implication of
the word before. He learned it now.
Two hours of pleasure with Eden had him more physically spent than
a week of mucking stalls and handling horses. She liked it fast, she liked it
slow; she liked it fierce, she liked it easy. Eden just plain liked it.
All that and her hair was barely even mussed. Later she sat across
from him at the table, dressed in his shirt with the sleeves rolled back over
her slender white arms, and she still looked as fresh and pretty as she had
that morning. Hellfire, but she was young.
"I don't know how I got so fortunate," he said,
finishing a bite of cold ham. "But I'm gonna take gifts to those Cheyenne
if ever I learn who they were."
Eden giggled.
"I kept thinkin' all along I was too old for you."
"You're not old, Sam." She pushed the beans around on
her plate and ate a bite of bread. "You're seasoned. Just
right."
He chuckled. Minutes later, pouring himself coffee, he sobered. He
had no idea what was going to come of this. And he was too proud to ask. Would
Eden think about staying now? They'd done things backward, but he would jump
for a chance to court her. She hadn't mentioned her plans.
"I don't suppose we should let on. About this."
"It would be prudent to keep our silence," she agreed.
When they returned that afternoon, he told the others they'd gone
for a ride. No one seemed to think strangely of it. And the afternoon wasn't
mentioned again.
He and Eden shared secret smiles... and Sam considered his
options.
***
Another two weeks went by, bringing colder temperatures and frost.
Coats and caps and gloves came out of storage, and a supply of firewood was
laid by.
Amy was adding salt pork to a pot of beans one afternoon when
there was a tap on the kitchen door. No one ever bothered to knock; their home
was accessible all hours of the day and most of the evening. Puzzled, she
walked to the door and opened it.
Rachel Douglas stood on the back porch, a frayed coat pulled
around her girth, her nose red from the wind.
"Come in," Amy urged, taking her sleeve and drawing her
inside.
Rachel pulled a scarf from her head and stuffed it in the pocket
of her coat along with her wool mittens.
"It's so good to see you," Amy said.
"I'm here to work." A hesitant smile brightened her
features.
"Work?" Amy asked, puzzled.
"Your husband hired on Jack. But I'll earn my own
stood, stroking herself against his back, coming to face him again. With the
back of her hand she reached down and brushed against his erection.
Sam tensed his body and felt blood rush to the place she had
touched. He'd never dreamed such feverish goings-on in the middle of the day.
He'd been married twenty years and never done this in the kitchen in broad
daylight.
He definitely received the message that she was willing. No
pussyfooting around between them. He liked that.
Sam swept her up and carried her into the bedroom, where he tossed
her into the middle of the bed and followed. She laughed and scrambled to her
knees, then watched him with hooded eyes while he removed her corset and
plumped her breasts in his palms.
Her gaze constantly moved across his arms and chest, down to the
front of his trousers, as though she was eager to see more. What kind of heaven
on earth had he gone and found himself without even trying?
She shucked off her pantaloons and stood on her knees before him
in the middle of the bed, pale skin creased by her corset, her breasts full and
round with rosy nipples. Her eyes devoured him and her full pouty lips begged
for his kisses. He leaned toward her, but she stopped him with a hand on his
chest.
"Your turn, cowboy."
Sam stood beside the bed to remove his trousers.
Unembarrassed, she watched. Sam didn't know if his wife had ever
looked at him naked. If she had, she'd never let him see her looking.
"Touch me here, cowboy." She took his hand and guided it
where she wanted him to explore.
Uninhibited. He'd never known the full implication of
the word before. He learned it now.
Two hours of pleasure with Eden had him more physically spent than
a week of mucking stalls and handling horses. She liked it fast, she liked it
slow; she liked it fierce, she liked it easy. Eden just plain liked it.
All that and her hair was barely even mussed. Later she sat across
from him at the table, dressed in his shirt with the sleeves rolled back over
her slender white arms, and she still looked as fresh and pretty as she had
that morning. Hellfire, but she was young.
"I don't know how I got so fortunate," he said,
finishing a bite of cold ham. "But I'm gonna take gifts to those Cheyenne
if ever I learn who they were."
Eden giggled.
"I kept thinkin' all along I was too old for you."
"You're not old, Sam." She pushed the beans around on
her plate and ate a bite of bread. "You're seasoned. Just
right."
He chuckled. Minutes later, pouring himself coffee, he sobered. He
had no idea what was going to come of this. And he was too proud to ask. Would
Eden think about staying now? They'd done things backward, but he would jump
for a chance to court her. She hadn't mentioned her plans.
"I don't suppose we should let on. About this."
"It would be prudent to keep our silence," she agreed.
When they returned that afternoon, he told the others they'd gone
for a ride. No one seemed to think strangely of it. And the afternoon wasn't
mentioned again.
He and Eden shared secret smiles... and Sam considered his
options.
***
Another two weeks went by, bringing colder temperatures and frost.
Coats and caps and gloves came out of storage, and a supply of firewood was
laid by.
Amy was adding salt pork to a pot of beans one afternoon when
there was a tap on the kitchen door. No one ever bothered to knock; their home
was accessible all hours of the day and most of the evening. Puzzled, she
walked to the door and opened it.
Rachel Douglas stood on the back porch, a frayed coat pulled
around her girth, her nose red from the wind.
"Come in," Amy urged, taking her sleeve and drawing her
inside.
Rachel pulled a scarf from her head and stuffed it in the pocket
of her coat along with her wool mittens.
"It's so good to see you," Amy said.
"I'm here to work." A hesitant smile brightened her
features.
"Work?" Amy asked, puzzled.
"Your husband hired on Jack. But I'll earn my own
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