once more. The kiss remained gentle, but his hands at her waist tugged her slightly so that their bodies touched. He felt her soft breasts press into his chest each time she inhaled, and the feeling was so right.
His fingers relaxed. Aggie could have stepped back if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t break the contact. Feather light, she placed her other hand on his shoulder and continued the kiss.
She was learning, exploring, he realized, and he had every intention of being her guide.
Ulysses barked at a shadow somewhere beyond the barn and Aggie lifted her head. For a second their eyes met and Hank didn’t miss the fire in her shy gaze a moment before she looked down.
“Aggie,” he whispered, ignoring the dog’s barking. “Aggie, look at me.”
Slowly she raised her head.
“There’s no need to ever be embarrassed or shy with me. I’m your husband.”
She nodded. “I know, dear. I’m not.”
“Then what is it?” Even in the shadowed light he saw the blush in her cheek and felt her fingers moving nervously over his shoulders.
“I . . .” She looked down again, then forced herself to face him. “I just didn’t expect it to feel so good.”
“The kiss?”
“Yes, that, but also the nearness of you. Even last night on the train I liked you holding me close. And the kissing part, I always thought it was something a man did to a woman. I guess I never considered it as something they did together.”
Hank had no idea how to answer. He should have stayed with talking about the weather. He’d never be able to explain what was happening to her. Hell, he couldn’t put his own emotions into words most of the time. “Would it help any if I told you I feel the same?”
She smiled. “Not much.” He saw it then, that twinkle in her eye. That warning that one day soon she’d understand him better than he did himself.
“Good night, Aggie.” Hank decided he’d be wise to stop this conversation while he could still form reasonable thoughts.
As he settled her on the ground, he knew beyond any doubt that he’d be wasting his time building another bed. They’d share the same one soon. It bothered him that he wasn’t sure if it would be his idea, or hers. And worse, he didn’t care.
Part of him decided it had to be impossible for such a beautiful woman to know so little, but then with four older sisters she must have always been chaperoned. And, for some reason, she trusted him.
He grinned. The perfect wife, a preacher once said, was a woman who made a husband want to be a better man. Hank stared out into the night and silently promised he’d be that and more for her.
He watched the old dog follow her back to the house. She looked like she belonged here. Turning, he set to work on the bench, his thoughts full of Aggie. She was shy, and probably more than a little spoiled. He’d have to tell her that putting her fists on her hips and demanding something wasn’t fair might not always work with him.
Suddenly, he laughed, realizing it had.
He heard the back door close and Ulysses run around the house barking at the darkness. Probably a rabbit, Hank thought. That and snakes were the only invaders the place ever had.
Thunder rattled several miles away. He looked up in time to see the next round of lightning. Across the flat land it was easy in the blink to pick out the black outline of the windmill, the bunkhouse, and a lone rider on horseback waiting just outside the yard light.
Hank froze. No one but trouble would be riding up behind the house this time of night. He reached for his Colt and realized it was with Aggie.
Blowing out the lantern, Hank stood perfectly still and listened. Someone was out by the windmill. Someone who wasn’t a friend or he would have yelled a hello.
Ulysses had climbed on the porch and was barking wildly now, standing guard, Hank decided, protecting Aggie, just where Hank would have wanted the dog. Whoever moved in the moonless night would not step on the porch without
His fingers relaxed. Aggie could have stepped back if she’d wanted to. But she didn’t break the contact. Feather light, she placed her other hand on his shoulder and continued the kiss.
She was learning, exploring, he realized, and he had every intention of being her guide.
Ulysses barked at a shadow somewhere beyond the barn and Aggie lifted her head. For a second their eyes met and Hank didn’t miss the fire in her shy gaze a moment before she looked down.
“Aggie,” he whispered, ignoring the dog’s barking. “Aggie, look at me.”
Slowly she raised her head.
“There’s no need to ever be embarrassed or shy with me. I’m your husband.”
She nodded. “I know, dear. I’m not.”
“Then what is it?” Even in the shadowed light he saw the blush in her cheek and felt her fingers moving nervously over his shoulders.
“I . . .” She looked down again, then forced herself to face him. “I just didn’t expect it to feel so good.”
“The kiss?”
“Yes, that, but also the nearness of you. Even last night on the train I liked you holding me close. And the kissing part, I always thought it was something a man did to a woman. I guess I never considered it as something they did together.”
Hank had no idea how to answer. He should have stayed with talking about the weather. He’d never be able to explain what was happening to her. Hell, he couldn’t put his own emotions into words most of the time. “Would it help any if I told you I feel the same?”
She smiled. “Not much.” He saw it then, that twinkle in her eye. That warning that one day soon she’d understand him better than he did himself.
“Good night, Aggie.” Hank decided he’d be wise to stop this conversation while he could still form reasonable thoughts.
As he settled her on the ground, he knew beyond any doubt that he’d be wasting his time building another bed. They’d share the same one soon. It bothered him that he wasn’t sure if it would be his idea, or hers. And worse, he didn’t care.
Part of him decided it had to be impossible for such a beautiful woman to know so little, but then with four older sisters she must have always been chaperoned. And, for some reason, she trusted him.
He grinned. The perfect wife, a preacher once said, was a woman who made a husband want to be a better man. Hank stared out into the night and silently promised he’d be that and more for her.
He watched the old dog follow her back to the house. She looked like she belonged here. Turning, he set to work on the bench, his thoughts full of Aggie. She was shy, and probably more than a little spoiled. He’d have to tell her that putting her fists on her hips and demanding something wasn’t fair might not always work with him.
Suddenly, he laughed, realizing it had.
He heard the back door close and Ulysses run around the house barking at the darkness. Probably a rabbit, Hank thought. That and snakes were the only invaders the place ever had.
Thunder rattled several miles away. He looked up in time to see the next round of lightning. Across the flat land it was easy in the blink to pick out the black outline of the windmill, the bunkhouse, and a lone rider on horseback waiting just outside the yard light.
Hank froze. No one but trouble would be riding up behind the house this time of night. He reached for his Colt and realized it was with Aggie.
Blowing out the lantern, Hank stood perfectly still and listened. Someone was out by the windmill. Someone who wasn’t a friend or he would have yelled a hello.
Ulysses had climbed on the porch and was barking wildly now, standing guard, Hank decided, protecting Aggie, just where Hank would have wanted the dog. Whoever moved in the moonless night would not step on the porch without
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