A Cheyenne Thanksgiving Read online

  “Good.” She tried to help him out of the chair. “You need to get these clothes off. I’ll help, and then you can rest your foot.”

  It was galling, the way he had to rely on her to stand. He couldn’t manage to get the wet jeans—they clung like a second skin—past his thighs. She wasn’t quite smiling when she slipped around him to help, but he saw the amusement in her eyes. He told himself that it wasn’t anger that caused the tightness in his chest, but arousal at the sight of the top of her head as she knelt before him. And when she decided that his smalls were soaked through, and needed to come off as well, he realized that cold water or not, he was definitely aroused. She was smiling faintly when she finally sat him back down to unbutton his shirt, and that irritated him. He’d twisted his ankle, for God’s sakes! He wasn’t an invalid. He pushed her hands away and took off his own damn shirt.

  When she disappeared to find him a blanket, he took a few deep breaths and tried to understand what had him so riled. Why couldn’t he seem to let go of his anger? Why was he still snapping at Tess?

  He hadn’t figured it out by the time she wrapped him in a scratchy wool blanket he recognized from the bedroom. The anger was still simmering as he watched her prepare a late lunch for them both, seeming at ease prancing around half-naked in a strange kitchen. They ate in silence, and he was glad for the heat from the roaring fire.

  After, Tess got him another bowl of icy slush, and reported the storm was still fierce, but hadn’t turned to snow yet. He grunted, having assumed as much from the sound of the needles of rain on the house’s two windows.

  He heard her sigh, and then sink down into a chair opposite him. Her crossed arms and stern expression reminded him of the way she disciplined Jake, and eased the anger knotting his stomach. “What?”

  “Will you please tell me what the problem is? Why are you so… so angry?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Cam, even if you think it’s what I want to hear.”

  “Okay…”

  “I mean it. Not ever.” Had he thought she looked stern before? Now she was downright severe.

  “Fine. I’m not alright. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “I want to know why.”

  “Because my foot hurts!”

  She stood up then, and started to pace, and Cam wanted to be able to reach her, to hold her. For both of their sakes. “I know it hurts. But what are you angry about?”

  “I’m angry because a stupid mistake like that will cost me. I don’t think my ankle’s broken—”

  “I don’t think so either.”

  “—But it’s going to make it hard to work for a few weeks. I don’t know if the mare will recover, or if I’ll lose her too. I can’t believe I let her bolt like that, over a little thunder.” All of the disgust he’d been feeling spilled out then, disgust at himself.

  She stood up then, and crossed the distance between them. The heat from her was intoxicating, and how could such a tiny thing be so warm? He wanted to gather her close, to lose himself in her. To let her melt the tight ball of irritation in the pit of his stomach.

  “So you’re angry at the accident, and you’re in pain?” He didn’t say anything. “That’s why you’re acting like a child?”

  A part of him knew that she was right, but he couldn’t help the scowl, or the defense. “My foot’s killing me, Tessa.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really angry about?”

  “Fine!” He tried to stand up then, but between the hand she placed on his shoulder, and the way his ankle gave out under him, he sank back down. “You want to know what I’m angry? I’m angry at myself, and at this stupid storm. I had plans for today, Tessa. And this damn fool accident means they’re not going to happen.”

  “What plans?” Her quiet question reminded him of the way she’s teased him that morning about being spontaneous.

  His bark of laughter was harsh, scornful. “I wanted to show you this house. I wanted you to be impressed by what I built, before I knew anything about Wyoming. I wanted to peel the clothes off of you and make love to you in front of that fire.” A flush crept up her cheeks, then, but she didn’t drop his gaze. “I wanted to lay you down and show you how much I love you. And then I was going to tell you how much you love me.”

  Her brows drew in, and she licked her lower lip, as if trying to find words to rebuff him. Damn his ankle! He stood up then, resting all of his weight on his right leg, towering over her again. “Don’t deny it—deny me—again, Tessa. I know you love me, even if you don’t.”

  “How?” She all but wailed, and he heard in her voice all of the fear and hope and worry that she hadn’t shown on her face. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because.” He grabbed her cheeks then, in both hands, and kissed her. And to his astonishment, and rough joy, she kissed him back. He lifted her against him, and felt small arms wrap around his neck.

  “Because,” he tried again, after he’d let her slide down his chest, both of them gasping. “It’s true. I’m yelling and angry and sound like a bear, but you’re not scared of me, are you?”

  “No.” She pushed away from him then, not convinced. “You’d never hurt me.”

  “Oh no? I spend my days roping and riding and lifting and I can knock a man down with one fist. What makes you so sure I won’t hurt you?”

  Her chin came up. “Because you love me.”

  “Because I love you,” he agreed, “and I would never hurt you.”

  Cam sank down to the chair then, and grabbing her hand, pulled her down to his lap. “I’m snapping at you, I’m in pain, and here you are, tending to me. You even took my damn pants off, Tessa.”

  “You couldn’t. I had to help.”

  “Why?”

  She seemed flustered that he had to ask. “I had to, Cam. You were so miserable. I had to try to make you feel better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s what a good wife does.” He heard the hidden question in her voice, though, and saw it in her eyes. She still didn’t understand.

  “Yeah, but that’s not all, is it?”

  “I don’t…”

  “You care for me. You don’t like to see me hurt, and you wanted to make me feel better.”

  Exasperatedly, she threw her hands up. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Of course I care for you, Cam. You’re my husband!”

  He captured her hand, and placed a kiss on the palm. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so angry anymore. He was at peace, trying to explain things to his obtuse wife.

  “You care about me, Tessa MacLeod. You feel comfortable around me. You dream about a future with me. You try to make me happy, and you appreciate it when I try to make you happy. You tolerate my habits, and accept my faults. You make a point of knowing what I like, and trying to give that to me. You’re kind to me, Tessa.”

  There were tears in her eyes now, but he wasn’t sorry. He loved her, and loved the way her expressions were so hard to read. But he saw confusion in the way her lips were drawn down, and she chewed on her lip.

  Finally, hesitantly, she offered a final denial, “But…”

  “Caring, kindness, comfort. Dreams and hopes and happiness. Tolerance and acceptance, Tessa.” He took a deep breath, and watched her watching him. “That’s love. You love me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  You love me. Was it true? Was that—the warmth and the acceptance and the happiness and the excitement about the future that she’d been feeling lately—love?

  Tess sat up straight, her eyes wide. She felt as if a band that had been wrapped around her insides—so tightly she hadn’t even noticed it was there—had loosened and was falling away. She was freer, could breathe more deeply.

  It was love. She was in love with her husband. Slowly, a smile, a real smile, crept across her face. All of the wonder and excitement, and yes, love was spilling out of her, and when she turned it on her husband, his answering smile was blinding.

 
“So you’ve stopped arguing, eh?”

  “I didn’t know…” Her whisper was barely a breath, but she knew he heard it. She loved him, and had no idea. Why had she fought it for so long? Was it just that she hadn’t understood what love was, and therefore didn’t recognize it? If she hadn’t understood it, did that mean that she’d been missing it for years? She loved Jacob, certainly. But had she loved Joshua too? Barely a heartbeat passed before she acknowledged yes, she’d loved her first husband. He’d been her friend and partner, but her feelings for him would never compare to the way she felt about Cam.

  She’d been so foolish, to deny them both. Now that she saw, it was so obvious. He had been saying the words for months, now, but she’d refused to acknowledge what they meant. She felt for him the same way he felt for her, but hadn’t known the words to describe it.

  Turning, she cupped his cheek in one hand, loving the feel of his stubble under her palm. He smiled, and she saw true happiness in those beautiful green eyes. She wondered at his ability to switch between anger and joy so easily, and to show both so readily. He so rarely got mad around her, but it was nice to know that she could talk him out of it if necessary. All she had to do was distract him.

  “Well, Tessa? Have you figured it out yet?”

  She kissed him then, and reveled in the way his strong arm reached around her to draw her closer. No, she loved it, and loved being able to call it ‘love’. She wasn’t ready to say so yet, though. This was a big revelation for her, and she didn’t want to rush into anything. She wanted to take her time, to understand, before she said the words.

  So, knowing perfectly well what he was asking, she wouldn’t give it to him. Instead, she made love to him with her mouth, until he was hard and panting under her. She loved the power she could wield over him, without him even realizing.

  Slowly, she climbed off of him, and started to slip her blouse off of her shoulders. It was dry, but the cool air caused her nipples to pucker under the chemise. Cam’s eyes latched hungrily onto them, and she took her time in peeling the rest of her clothes off. He was naked under that blanket, and when he threw it off and reached for her, she laughed.

  “We could do this sitting here,” she wondered if he remembered that he still had one foot in a bowl of ice water, “Or if you’re feeling up for it, I could lay you down on that rug in front of the fire and make love to you.”

  It was nearly the words he’d said to her earlier, and with a groan, Cam buried his face in her neck. She contented herself with stroking his hard shoulders until his lips wrenched a whimper from her. “Cam!”

  He lifted her then, and lowered them both to the rug. It was gloriously freeing, to be naked in the middle of the room in the daylight. Tess felt so naughty, and so uninhibited. She couldn’t have said who made love to whom, but when it was over, and they were wrapped around each other, sweating and panting before the fire, it didn’t really matter.

  Funny, his foot didn’t seem to hurt that much anymore. Cam stretched under her, and wondered if he’d ever been this relaxed. Letting go of his anger like that, and then chasing it away with the feel of her skin in one explosive bout of therapy… well, that’d been pretty fantastic. He smiled, and felt her lips move too.

  Later, she brought him a pillow for his head, and one for his foot, but made him lie there on the rug while she fed more wood into the fire. She didn’t put any clothes on, so he didn’t mind it much. They ate, and talked, and held each other, and listened to the sound of the sleet. He learned more about her childhood, growing up between two worlds, wanted by no one but her parents. He told her all about the big Scottish community he came from, and the bitterness towards the English clearances, and how much he wanted a large family. They both discussed children, particularly the little one growing in her womb. He swore he could feel her move, but Tess laughed and said that it was still too early, and it’d just been her stomach growling. She didn’t say that she loved him, not yet, but he could see it in her eyes. More importantly, he could tell that she knew it too. She laughed and smiled more than he’d ever seen, and he made a point to kiss her as often as possible.

  The storm didn’t let up until after dark. By then, Tess had gotten anxious about leaving Jacob alone for so long. Cam pulled her down beside him. “Relax, honey. Da will take care of him, I promise. It would’ve been obvious that we were caught in this storm, and he’d be a fool to expect us home. He’ll make sure Jake understands.”

  “But what if he needs me…?”

  “He’ll miss you,” Cam kissed her temple, “But Da won’t let him need you, they’ll be having such a good time. They’ll both be fine.”

  “This will be the first night I haven’t kissed him goodnight.”

  He knew she snuck into the boy’s room after he was asleep, to do just that. He also knew that their lives were changing, but didn’t say that to her. “Da probably let him stay up late eating sweets and listening to stories. No one listens to his stories anymore except Jake.”

  He felt her lips twitch then. “I listen, sometimes. When I’m not busy.” A sigh, and then: “You’re right. Jacob adores your father. I’m so glad I married you. He deserves a grandfather.”

  “Is that the only reason you’re glad, Mrs. MacLeod?” He rolled over to face her, and she tilted her head to give him better access to her neck, and they both stopped thinking about Jacob for a while.

  The next morning they were up early, well-rested from all of their relaxing in front of the fireplace. He never did have a chance to show her the home he’d built, but she explored herself while taking care of him, and he swore he’d get her back here as soon as possible. Having a day to themselves had been… well, he sure felt a lot better, and judging from her secret smiles, his wife had made a major realization.

  In order to save the last of their supplies for their trip home, he showed her where his hands kept the emergency stash of non-perishables, and she made them biscuits while she tended to his foot. He discovered that he didn’t mind her pampering him, if she did it half-dressed, and he got to kiss her whenever he felt like it. She’d laugh and slap his hand away from wherever he’d grabbed her… and he’d grab her as often as possible, to make her laugh more.

  After breakfast, she made him sit still while she examined his foot, and he was surprised to find out that he was ticklish. She laughed again—had she been hiding this carefree side of her, or had some recent realization triggered it?—and held him steady with one small hand. The ankle was swollen, but so was the top of his foot. Thankfully, he could move it, even if it hurt. Tess told him that meant it wasn’t broken, and he decided to believe her.

  She ripped up one of the scrap blankets the men sometimes used on the animals, and used the strips to wrap his foot and ankle to keep it still on the ride home. And then, when they realized that there was no way he’d be able to fit his boot over the bandage, she wrapped more strips around it, for warmth. The temperature had dropped with the ending of the storm. The ground was muddy, yeah, but icy too. The next storm like that would bring snow, not rain.

  There wasn’t anything around the house to use as a crutch, and Tess wouldn’t let him try to put weight on his left foot. It was damned galling to have to rely on her to help him around. But as they closed up the house—Cam again promising himself he’d bring her back here soon—and he tried not to rest too much weight on her as he hopped across to the barn, he realized that he wasn’t embarrassed. He would have thought that relying so heavily on someone—especially a woman!—would have threatened his manhood. But instead, it just made him smile, to know he’d somehow lassoed such a perfect wife.

  His mare’s condition hadn’t changed, although both horses looked happy to see them. “Sorry girl,” he said after examining her leg, “but you’ll have to manage alone for a bit longer.” He’d rather gamble leaving her here than walking her back to the house. And with the way the weather was changing, and Tess’s condition, and his bum foot, he didn’t want to risk taking longer than necessar
y to get home. “I’ll send Kelley and Perkins over here tomorrow to check you out.”

  “Not tomorrow.” Tess was forking hay into the feed bin, because she’d insisted on finding some way to help. When he raised a brow at her, she raised a brow right back. “Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. Da and I are cooking extra to bring them out in the bunkhouse.”

  Oh yeah. He’d forgotten. But of course she didn’t forget; she and Da had been working hard at it for a week. There’d be fifteen people, including the kids, and Cam had been looking forward to having all of his friends and family together to hear their news. But now, after the eye-opening evening he had spent with Tess, he discovered he’d rather just have her to himself for a few days, to enjoy everything they’d both learned. Of course, he also wouldn’t mind if Sebastian and Nate never found out that he’d busted his foot in such a stupid accident.

  Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he said only, “Sorry I had you away for so long. I guess you’re in a rush to get back.”

  “Your father is a planner, just like you, and I’ve had an itemized list every day for the last week.” She came over and kissed his brow, where he sat on a bale. “But I don’t think the real work will start ‘til tomorrow morning.”

  “When’s everyone coming?”

  “As soon as they can get here—or rather, there. Dinner will be around noon.”

  “Well then,” Cam smiled and took her hand, pleased to just sit and stare up into her dark eyes, “I guess we’d better get you home.”

  “I am pretty anxious about Jacob.”

  He squeezed. “No you’re not.”

  With a laugh, she admitted, “No, I’m not. I guess you convinced me Da can handle him. Isn’t that odd? I’ve been with him every night of his life. I should have been frantic without him, but I…”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t think about him much.” Her brows drew in, and he knew she was pondering something big. “Doesn’t that make me a bad mother, to basically forget about him?”