His brow cocked teasingly, and he nudged the screen over a bit more, making room for himself in front of her. "I'd be glad to help," he offered, his fingers tangling in the gown she held, wrestling it easily from her grasp. He took in her bare shoulders. Then, skipping over her front parts, he peered over her shoulder, clearing his throat and raising one eyebrow as he considered her lack of covering. "In fact, looks to me like you've already done the job."
"Tate!" Her muted squeal was diminished by the presence of his mouth as he bent to silence her protest And then she was enclosed in the cage of his embrace, a willing prisoner. She rose to her tiptoes, sliding up over the firm surface of his body, relishing the sensation of crisp, curling hair and ridged muscles caressing her breasts.
He lifted her easily, swinging her around and heading for the wide bed. Gently, he lowered her, tugging the sheet and quilt from beneath her, placing her in the center of the mattress. His gaze hot with a passion he made no attempt to conceal, he stripped from his trousers and drawers. And then he was upon her, spreading her knees as he knelt there, his big hands urgent as he explored the surface of her flesh.
His palms ran over the flare of her hips, the curve of her waist, the rounding of her shoulder, filling themselves with the plush softness of her breasts. He was intrigued, enchanted, by her body, as if he had just discovered the wonder of her.
"I've about gone crazy without you, Johanna." He'd intended to woo her gently, coaxing her with tender touches and entreating her response, but the reality of her welcoming arms and the sinuous movement of her body against his was his undoing. He lifted her hips and eased himself against her, his eyes closing at the pure pleasure of their joining.
And then he was lost, caught up in the joyous response of the woman he'd taken with such haste. Her soft cries of entreaty urging him, he bent to her, his hands and mouth claiming her flesh and molding it to his purpose, his kisses feeding her desire. She lifted against him, her soft, keening cry of fulfillment a symphony in her ears as he spilled his seed within her.
"I'm gonna smuch you into the mattress," he whispered against her cheek, his eyes closed, his nostrils flaring as he gasped for breath.
She shook her head, unwilling to allow his escape, her arms twined around his neck, her legs holding him captive. And he allowed it. He basked in it, this sensation of being cradled in the depths of Johanna's body, of loving her.
"I love you, Jo." He spoke the words without hesitation, uttering them from the depths of his being, his mouth brushing damp kisses across her face. And then he repeated the phrase, slowly, as if he must imprint the words upon her.
It was more than she'd hoped for, this pledge of love from Tate Montgomery. He'd been bold in his expectations of her, taking hold and running her farm. He'd been brash in his dealings, riding roughshod over her concerns, bringing home the bull and expecting her to be thrilled with the purchase. He'd beguiled his way into her heart with his care of her, then claimed her body with tender touches and gentle wooing.
And through it all, he'd won equal amounts of her love and anger. They'd have a time sorting out their differences, she decided, she and this strong man she'd married. But she could not deny the welling up of passion within her as she held him in her embrace.
"I thought you might never come to that," she told him.
"Loving you? How could I help it?" he asked with a chuckle. "You're everything I ever wanted in a woman, Jo."
"I'm plain, and I'll probably never have a striped taffeta dress to my name."
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" he blurted out, rolling with her until they lay facing each other. "You almost had one, anyway. It's under the bed, in a package from the Sears catalog. But I decided we'd better send it back. I don't think it's gonna fit you for a while."
"Not going to fit?" she squeaked. "What dress?"
He held her fast. "I'll show you later on. Right now we need to talk about your looks."
"My looks?" Her eyes widened at his foolishness.
"Yeah. I want to tell you, you're a long way from plain, with that long, sunshiny mane of yours and those big blue eyes and the prettiest, roundest, softest … " His index finger drew a line from her throat to the center of her left breast, and his drawled assessment of her charms came to a halt.
His mouth touched the spot his finger had so neatly drawn his attention to, and his murmur of praise was muffled against her flesh. "Pete was right," he said after a moment. "You're a good mama."
"Tate!" Her squeal was a mixture of delight and chagrin. "What are you talking about?"
"I'll just bet that baby of ours is gonna love this bosom of yours about as much as I do," he said, peering up at her with a smug grin.
"What baby?" She drew back, but he was quick, and her retreat ended almost before it began.
His long arms held her against him, and he slid up to face her, nose to nose. "You know what baby, Johanna. The one we made in this bed a couple of months ago. When were you gonna tell me?"
"Pretty soon," she quibbled. "I just actually realized it myself over the last little while."
"Are you happy about it?"
Was that a worry line she noticed creasing his forehead? Was it really so important to him that she be pleased about this baby?
"Johanna, it'll be different this time. I'll be here. You know that, don't you?" Low and soothing, as if he must allay any fears she possessed, his words spread a quilt of comfort over her.
"You're the first person who's ever hung around for the long haul," she said quietly, one finger lifting to smooth away the crease that had deepened as he spoke. "My mama couldn't help dying, but I think I took it as a personal thing. I was really angry with her for a while, along with missing her so badly I could hardly stand it. And then there was Joseph."
"He wasn't worthy of you, Jo. Any man who would leave a woman to carry his child on her own isn't worth the powder it'd take to blow him away."
"Yes, well, even that baby … " She drew a shuddering breath.
"That poor little mite missed out, honey." His hand brushed against a tear that slid down her cheek. "You're gonna be a wonderful mama."
She smiled at him, blinking against a salty deluge that would not be denied. "And then my pa. He just didn't care. Not only about me, but about anything, once my mama passed on. I felt like there'd never be anyone … just for me."
"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." It was a simple statement, and his eyes narrowed as he held her face ready for his kiss of promise. His lips were firm, brushing against her mouth as if he sought just the right place to imprint his vow. "I'll never leave you, Johanna. I'm a man who believes in forever, especially when it comes to you."
She clung to him, and his hand slipped to her back, his fingers spread wide as he held her closely. "Jo? I have something to show you, something I made."
She nuzzled against his cheek. "Now?"
His chuckle rumbled as he shifted against her. "Yeah, I think now would be a good time. We need to be alone for this, and I can't guarantee much privacy in the light of day around here."
She roused, scooting back to sit against the headboard, tugging the sheet to cover her breasts. "All right, Mr. Montgomery, show me."
He grinned ruefully. "I'm afraid this involves getting some clothes on, sweetheart. Maybe your nightgown and that flannel robe of yours." Swinging his long legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his discarded trousers and slid into them.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" The whereabouts of her gown was in question, but unless she was mistaken, it was clear over in the corner, where he'd interrupted her earlier.
His eyes lit with a glimmer of understanding. "I'll get it for you."
It landed in her lap, a balled-up mass of fabric, and she quickly pulled it over her head, tending to the buttons before she slid to the side of the bed. Standing, she allowed it to fall around her, distracted by the knowledge that Tate's eyes were on her every move.
"You do have a pretty pair of … ankles."
"Tate!" It was a subdued wail of dismay as she turned to find her robe. "Where are we going?" she asked, determined to get his late-night adventuring done with.