This circled her mind back to the husband she wished to rid herself of. And an odd thought burned color onto her cheeks. Given the annoying way Peter was behaving, it would serve him right if Sam kissed her again and if she enjoyed it. In fact, she thought, raising her chin, if Sam kissed her again she wouldn’t feel guilty. It had occurred to her that really she should use their peculiar marital circumstances to learn a few things. At her age, her next husband, probably Peter but maybe not, would expect her to be at least somewhat experienced. The more she considered, the more she believed a case could be made that she owed it to her next husband to learn more about kissing . . . and maybe more about some other things as well.
She was out the back door and standing at the entrance of Sam’s tent before she understood that she had intended all along to go to him.
Sam needed her tonight.
He rubbed his eyes, weary but not sleepy. Even a book discussing geologic formations in the mountainous West hadn’t made his eyelids grow heavy. Swearing under his breath, Sam tossed the book on the low table beside his cot.
The day had been long and eventful, and parts of it ran through his mind over and over. The part that disturbed him most was his claim. Progress was so slow, and he hadn’t discovered the vug that would solve all his problems. Closing his eyes, he raked his fingers through his hair and swore out loud.
A small sound made him blink, and for a moment he thought he was staring at a vision conjured by wishful thinking.
Angie stood in the entrance of the tent, her long flowing hair shining like a halo behind her, outlined by the starry night. His breath caught in his throat. Silky curls of reddish brown curved over her breasts, tumbled down the back of her nightgown. Bare toes peeked from her hem.
“Has something happened?” Jumping to his feet, he faced her across the small space. And saw the midnight softness in her eyes and suddenly knew why she had come. “Angie.” Her name rolled off his tongue, half whisper, half groan.
Stepping forward, he moved his hands up her arms to frame her face and tilt her mouth up to his. For a long moment he gazed into her eyes, trying to see into her heart and what she might be thinking and feeling. But no man could ever know a woman’s heart, not completely. He would never understand her, and that was part of her fascination.
Slowly he lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips across hers, testing to make certain that he hadn’t misread her intentions. She tasted of honey and biscuits and tooth powder and the sweetness that was hers alone. Her full breasts warmed his chest. He felt her tugging at the strip of rawhide at his neck, then she pushed her fingers into his loose hair.
“Angie.”
The dreamlike state evaporated. She was here, not a wisp of imagination constructed out of his desire. She was solid and real. The faint rose scent of her hair and skin reeled through his senses, and he could feel the arousing shape of her body beneath the white drape of her gown.
Folding her in his arms, he crushed her against him. And this time when his mouth covered hers, his kiss was demanding, almost punishing in his need for her. Letting his hands drop, he cupped her buttocks and pulled her hard against his arousal, feeling the firm sweet curve of her through thin summer material.
“Sam . . .”
“If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have come here with your hair down and wearing your nightgown,” he murmured hoarsely, kissing her again and again.
“It isn’t that,” she whispered, her breath hot and ragged.
His mind raced. Where? His cot was narrow, uncomfortable, and not sturdy enough to support the weight of two people. The floor of the tent was dirt. They couldn’t go inside. Daisy occasionally awoke and stumbled into the kitchen to reassure herself at the light of the lamp in the sink. And if he and Angie went inside, they might make enough noise to wake both the girls. So where?
His hands moved over her with feverish desire, stroking, exploring, and he kissed her long and hard and deep, his palms cupping her breasts.
“Sam,” she gasped, pulling back. “The light.”
For an instant he didn’t grasp her meaning. He wanted to see her magnificent full body. Then his mind cleared enough to comprehend that the canvas walls cast them in silhouette to any neighbor glancing their way.
“Wait.” There was only one thing to do. Yanking the bedding off his cot, he spread the blankets over the dirt floor, then blew out the lamp and reached for her, sinking to the ground with Angie in his arms, her breath sweet and hot on his throat.
Kneeling on the blankets, their bodies pressed tightly together. He kissed her the way he had dreamed of kissing her from the first moment he saw her. But tonight was better than his boyish dreams. He held a woman in his arms, not a girl, with a woman’s full lush body and a woman’s desires. And tonight she knew what to expect.