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"Ah, these are pretty."
Molly stepped into the bedroom that night only to stop in her
tracks at the sight of her husband holding a pair of her lace-trimmed
bloomers. Lucky stood across from her at the bureau with her
lingerie drawer open, examining the undergarment with an expression
of avid interest. The sleeves on his blue-checked shirt were
rolled up to reveal his sinewy forearms, and several of his buttons
were undone, giving her a tantalizing view of his tanned, muscular
chest with its covering of tawny hair.
And of course he was grinning like the very devil!
Face red, Molly stormed across the room and snatched the garment
from his hand. "Just what do you think you're doing, going
through my unmentionables?"
"Oh, I'm just trying to get to know my wife a little better,"
he teased. He continued rummaging through the drawer and pulled
out a pair of pale silk stockings. Taking a lascivious whiff
of them, he murmured, "Ummm . . . sexy. Where are your garters,
darlin'?"
"Oh!" Molly grabbed the stockings, shoved them in the
drawer and slammed it closed. "You stop that right now."
He smiled patiently and opened another drawer. "I'm just
hunting up a suitable nightie for you, sugar."
She shut the drawer. "What?"
"You know, for after your bath."
Molly froze. Bath? What did he mean, bath? Hadn't
his attempted seduction of her in the hayloft earlier today been
torture enough?
Glancing about the room, she didn't spot the tub. But she could
see steam curling from behind the dressing screen in the corner,
and come to think of it, she'd been smelling the rosewater she
used to scent the water ever since she'd entered the room. Her
stomach sank.
"You fetched me a bath?" she finally managed.
He winked and stepped closer. "No, your grandma did."
"Oh. So it was her idea?"
"No, it was mine."
Molly gulped.
"So where you been since supper, sugar?"
"Uh-helping Ma with her mending."
"Liar," he accused. "You've been hiding out from
me--just like you have all day."
"Have not!" she retorted, though her face flamed.
"Did I make you too hot in the hayloft?"
"I--I don't know what you mean," she stammered. "That--that
was about kittens."
"Yeah, and about babies--and a lot more." Laughing,
he reopened the drawer and pulled out a long blue flannel nightie.
He whistled. "My dear wife, how very unsexy. This goes to
the rag heap."
"What?"
Before she could stop him, Lucky rent the garment from neck to
hem and tossed it onto the floor.
Molly was livid. "Damn you to hell, Lucky Lamont! That was
my warmest nightie. You want me to freeze my butt off in winter?"
Expression utterly rakish, he hauled her close, running his hand
provocatively over her backside. "Oh, don't worry, I know
plenty of tricks to help keep that pretty backside of yours warm."
Face crimson, she shoved him away.
Undaunted, he turned and pulled a white linen nightgown from
the drawer. "Now this is more like it. Demure and virginal,
but also lacy and low-cut. Just what I had in mind. I'll lay
it on the bed for you, darlin'--although you won't be needing
it for long."
Molly was panicking. "I--I just remembered I promised Ma
I'd--er--take the slops out to the swine--"
He shook a finger at her, then reached for a button on the low,
lace-trimmed bodice of her dress. "To heck with the slops.
You're my wife tonight, Molly, not a pig farmer. You're staying
right here while your husband undresses and bathes you."
"What?" Eyes huge, Molly jumped back three feet.
He chuckled, while steadily advancing upon her. "We're hitched
now, honey, aren't we? Why all this false modesty? Isn't this
just what you wanted--a truly intimate relationship? Doesn't
it say in the good book that the man and the woman were both
naked, and were not ashamed?"
"B-both?" she managed to stammer.
"You know, that's a great idea," he replied eagerly.
"Why don't I join you in the bath? That should help ease
another kind of joining, eh, love?"
Molly tried to flee out the door, only to discover she'd headed
straight for the wall. As she turned, Lucky easily pinned her
there, eyeing her in perverse triumph, pressing his heat into
her pelvis. All at once she could hardly breathe.
"Why are you doing this?" she gasped.
"Why?" He arched against her. "Isn't it obvious?"
"But, I thought you didn't-"
"Didn't want sex?" he provided. "Perhaps I've
reconsidered. I seem to be trapped here, in this shotgun marriage,
so why deny myself certain--er--pleasures? You being the original
virgin and all." He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
She panted helplessly. "Lucky, please stop it."
Now he was nuzzling her neck. "Why so coy, Molly? Last night
you were trying to climb all over me--today you turn into a skittish
kitten. Are you really as innocent as you let on? Or are you
hiding some deep, dark secret you don't want me to know?"
Angry, she pushed at his shoulders, but might as well have been
trying to budge a rock. "Stop it."
He drew back slightly, toying with another of her buttons. "Then
madam is ready for her bath?"
Molly's face was bright red as she slapped away his fingers.
"Please, I can do it myself."
He grinned. "Very well, then. I'll just watch."
"You'll what? No!"
He pointed at the screen. "It's the only compromise I'm
offering, Molly. Either skedaddle into that tub right now or
I'll strip you naked and drop you in it myself."
Mortified, Molly dashed behind the screen, grinding her teeth
at the sounds of his infuriating laughter.
Removing her clothing with trembling hands, Molly felt a tumult
of conflicting emotion--anger, humiliation, fear, but most of
all an overwhelming sense of excitement. Why was Lucky doing
this? Pursuing her so hotly, when he'd shunned her until today?
At any rate, she had little time to ponder this. Knowing he might
join her at any minute, she hastily finished stripping and settled
into the water, which felt warm and soothing but did little to
assuage her agitated state. She drew her knees up to her chin
to cover her nakedness as best she could.
Then she gasped as her husband rounded the dressing screen and
joined her by the tub. The look on his face took her breath away.
His eyes were devouring her alive, roving her body intimately.
Oh, Lord, she was in deep, deep trouble. When she'd contemplating
taking a husband, she'd thought of the marriage act as something
mechanical, a path to procreation, a way to accomplish her goals.
Never had she imagined that just her husband's burning look could
rouse in her such a purgatory of emotion. Longing that made her
heart race. Desire so sharp and deep it took her breath away
and made her throb inside.
And that was just his look. If he touched her . . .
Just when she thought she could bear no more, he removed his
shirt slowly, very slowly, revealing all the glory of his tanned,
naked torso. Then he unbuckled and pulled off his belt with that
same leisurely ease. His gaze scorched hers as he unbuttoned
the top button on his jeans--just that one button. So sexy, with
that patch of downy hair revealed at his navel. Her mouth went
dry.
If he touched her she would surely die!
He sank to his knees beside her and did so now, reaching out
to stroke her damp auburn curls. She winced in helpless longing.
"Well, Mrs. Lamont," he murmured at last, voice husky
with need, "reckon I'm feeling pretty lucky tonight."
Copyright  2004
by Eugenia Riley.
November 2004 * Love Spell Lead
Time Travel * ISBN 0-505-52588-7 * $6.99 U.S.
To Order This Book
call 1-800-481-9191 (U.S., Canadian and Foreign Customers) between
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