"Well " He stuffed his right hand in his coat pocket and leaned back on his heels. "It's best you were honest with me. Thanks for that."
"Any hard feelings?"
"None." He watched her gaze skitter away, remembered her perceivable tolerance of his kiss and immediately thought of Emily. His wife had tolerated their kisses much the same. He was too wild, too undisciplined for her taste. Anton knew in his heart that Nathan Beker was better suited to Sissy than he.
Now, Rain Shadow... There was a woman who participated in a kiss. He flung the memory away. "C'mon. Let's get a cup of coffee to warm you for the ride home."
She smiled.
Half an hour later, he waved the Clantons off, his shoulder throbbing. He was glad for the pain, thankful for something to keep the buoyancy from his chest. He turned toward the house, stifling the urge to let loose an earsplitting, Nikolaus-like "Aw-right!"
Rain Shadow tucked Jack's curry brush in a leather bag and slapped his withers. "Now that you're settled, my handsome love," she said to the horse, "I have quail to cook."
Nearly every day since Anton had been hurt, she'd prepared meals, though not consenting to use their stove or oven. Anton had given up on trying to get her to stay in the house but had insisted she go no farther than the corral alone. She resented the restriction. No one had ever monitored how far she traveled or how late she returned. No one had ever come looking for her when she'd been alone for several hours, and accountability didn't rest comfortably.
She wanted to bathe in the stream, but knew Anton wouldn't stand for it. He'd already offered to have their fathers lug and fill the tub the Neubauers used for bathing into their kitchen. Instead, she'd carried water from the well to her lodge.
A small gray and white cat rubbed himself against the top of her boot, and she knelt to scoop him up. Out of the half dozen cats that had the run of the barn, this particular one had grown attached to her. She scratched its ears, and a contented purr rumbled beneath the silky fur.
"That's Runt." Anton pulled the wooden door shut behind him. "First time I saw him, I wondered if he would make it. Last time I saw him he was tormenting one of the late robins."
The cat raised its head and stared through slitted eyes as she scratched the white tuft under its chin. She couldn't imagine staying in one place long enough to give a cat a name or see it grow. Even seeing a bird's nest pointed out how transitory her life was. What would it be like to watch a robin build a nest and still be there when the fledglings first tried their wings?
"Almost done out here?" he asked.
Rain Shadow placed the cat on the straw-littered floor. "I started a cook fire. Tell the boys to wash for supper."
"Will do."
Something about his cheerful reply brought her head up to meet his eyes. The spirited look she read there signaled a change. What had happened? As soon as she'd seen Sissy daintily exit the wagon, she'd been foolishly glum. What was it to her if he wanted to marry that sweet, doe-eyed paragon of domesticity?
He left, and Rain Shadow plucked her hat from a rail post. How would the silly girl ever maintain her prudery as his wife? She'd been mortified at the mere sight of any portion of his anatomy during his recovery. She'd baked and stewed and laundered at the drop of a hat, but Rain Shadow suspected most of those chores were used as an escape to keep her from his room. She couldn't fathom a mince pie satisfying Anton Neubauer's appetite on his wedding night.
"Give the girl a chance," she muttered to herself, skewering her birds on the spit and suspending them over the fire. She crouched and warmed her hands near the flames. Anton, given half a chance, could warm the frostiest resistance.
She knew.
She knew how every callus on his palms felt sliding across sensitive skin. Those hands would thaw Sissy. She knew the hard-soft bulk of his strength against her aroused body. That exciting pressure would light a spark under Sissy's primness.
Rain Shadow crossed her arms over her breasts and stared hard at the dressed birds starting to turn golden brown. She'd learned more. Much more than he'd ever have allowed had he been able to prevent it, but he'd been indisposed. He was capable of loving deeply and passionately, but still grieved for his wife and-what Rain Shadow had learned from his feverish ravings-baby. Perhaps the woman had died giving birth to Nikky's younger brother or sister. The fires in his nightmares confused her, so she easily explained them to herself as hallucinations born of his high temperatures.
He'd be an unconventional and stormy lover. That would toast Sissy Clanton's shy uncertainties. Wouldn't it? Rain Shadow watched succulent juice form on the crisp skins. The audible hiss as it dripped into the coals brought her out of her reverie. What did she care? She had Miguel to worry about.
"Eating with us?" Anton asked when she delivered the quail to the kitchen, the look in his eyes a direct challenge.
Thus far, she'd managed excuses, but tonight nothing credible came to mind. She shrugged out of her coat and washed her hands. "Where are our fathers?"
"The cabin, I guess. I'd send Nikolaus for them, but I don't want him out alone. They'll show up." One-handed, he set plates around the table.
She stood by awkwardly until he plunked a cutting board on the table and attempted slicing a loaf of bread, then she edged him out of the way. "Let me."
Watching her deft moves over her shoulder, his gaze fixed on her breasts, bobbling beneath her thin flannel shirt. Instantaneous desire, never far from the surface, sprang to life. Pulled by a force beyond himself, he leaned forward until his face was inches from her neck and inhaled her clean, outdoor smell. Her hand stilled on the knife. She was aware of his closeness, but he indulged himself, the ferocious itch for her blotting out the pain in his shoulder, the hunger in his belly.
She made the last slice, deliberately laid the knife across the cutting board edge and turned slowly. Her dark lashes lifted from his shoulder to his neck, her eyes at last focusing on his, only to drop immediately to his mouth as if remembering the pleasure they'd shared. The tip of her tongue dipped out to trace her lips...unconsciously? The movement stirred him so that his lips parted and his breath lodged painfully in his chest. Seductress.
If only I'd known you first, he thought, regret eating at his gut. If only I'd known you when I could still feel...still love...still hope. Emily had never looked at him like this. Had Emily known him better and found him lacking?
Each time Rain Shadow provoked his response, he compared it to Emily, to the pain loving her had wrought. Learning the hard way had convinced him he didn't want to go through it again. For the first time, Anton questioned his motives. The distance he needed to keep obviously hadn't been fair to Sissy, and she'd recognized it. Wisely, she hadn't cheated herself.
Was wanting her but having nothing to give in return fair to Rain Shadow?
Rain Shadow fought the urge to close her eyes and lean into him. Why did he torture her this way? What did he want? They both knew she wasn't what he wanted. And she wasn't foolish enough not to know why. Was he goading her? It would serve him right to call his bluff. They'd reached an almost comfortable coexistence, so why did he risk tipping the boat?
It was plain he wanted her. She'd known it from the first time he'd looked at her just this way. What did she have to lose? Respectability? He already thought her a woman of loose morals. Crazily, she raised her hand and outlined the silky texture of his upper lip with one finger, his nostrils flaring in response. She traced his lower lip, parting her own and reveling in the power it seemed she held in one slender finger, for his eyes darkened and the pulse at his throat beat wildly.
Encouraged, she flattened her palm against his rough cheek, the tips of her fingers sliding into the silky hair behind his ear. Rain Shadow drew herself on tiptoe and pulled his head to hers, meeting no resistance. His mouth clamped over hers, his tongue fulfilling her unspoken request against her own. He groaned into her mouth, a tortured sound that reached her toes.
She pulled away, her body alive with want. No. This was no joke. This was real and crazy and something she'd be denied because she wasn't Sissy Clanton. She was Princess Blue Cloud, Slade's mother, contestant for the sharpshooter championship...orphan.
Boot heels clomped on the back porch, and they stepped apart guiltily, Rain Shadow turning her fuzzy gaze to the loaf of bread. Two Feathers and Johann entered with a sidelong glance. They passed an unspoken confirmation between them and silently washed at the sink.