But the woman entering the cabin now looked as if she’d given up, as if she didn’t want to bother with life’s hardships any longer.
Immediately Wes knew there was only one cure for her misery: he was going to make love to her.
He held out his hand to her.
With a frown Leah ignored his hand. “I brought you some food.”
“I’m not hungry. Come sit by me.”
That’s all I need, Leah thought, Revis after me during the day, Wesley pestering me at night. “I need to get back.”
“Leah,” Wes said with surprising firmness for one so ill. “Sit down.”
She didn’t really feel much like having a fight and besides, what could he do?
When she sat on the edge of the bed, Wes put an arm around her and drew her back so she was leaning against the wall. He nestled his big, warm body next to her small, rigid one.
“Chicken, potatoes, beans, cornbread,” he said softly, looking inside the basket she’d brought.
With his free hand, he took the basket, leaned across her, and set it on the floor. That done, he didn’t quite straighten up but kept lying half across her.
“I…I must go.” She halfheartedly pushed at him.
“Leah,” he murmured, trailing a finger down her cheek, “you aren’t afraid of me, are you?”
“Of course not,” she snapped. “I’ve got to go, that’s all. I’m not afraid of any—”
She stopped because he kissed her, not just a simple kiss but a long, lingering, soft kiss that began to take the tiredness out of her.
“You were saying?” he said, caressing her cheek and neck with his big hand.
“Any man,” she said, trying not to look at him. “I’m not afraid of any man, any…”
Wesley began kissing her neck in hot little kisses that were oh, so very nice.
“It occurred to me today, Leah, that even though you’ve been married for years and even had a baby, you’ve never been made love to.”
She pulled away from him. “That’s absurd. How can I have a baby if…I mean you…the night of the storm we…”
“My beautiful wife, I thought you were a prostitute and used you as such. Had I known that was our early wedding night I assure you I’d have acted differently.”
“Differently?” she asked, curious. It was rather nice to be held by someone, to be touched and caressed.
“Wait a minute!” she said with a gasp. “You can’t touch me. I swore you’d have to take whatever you wanted from me, that I’d never give in to you. Just because I’m a Simmons doesn’t mean—”
“Shut up, Leah,” he murmured, “and consider yourself forced.” His lips took hers and held them—and held them until Leah’s arms slipped around his neck and pulled him closer. With one arm he pulled her down into the bed, one thigh going over both of hers.
When he pulled away from her, he saw wonder in her eyes and Wes felt a wave of guilt that this woman was his wife yet he’d taught her nothing. Slowly, with great patience, he began to caress her body.
The dress she wore was dirty, stained, and very loose on her. With a practiced hand, he began to undo the buttons down her front.
“Wesley, I don’t think…” Leah began. “Maybe we shouldn’t…oh dear!”
His hand slipped inside her dress, his warmth going through her layers of underclothes. He kissed her again as he lifted her off the bed and slipped the dress from her shoulders.
As the dress lay about her waist, it was Wesley’s turn to look at her in wonder. Never had he seen women’s underwear like this. Nearly transparent fabric showed the rosy pink crests of her nipples, floated downward, and barely concealed her creamy skin.
Leah immediately turned a pretty shade of pink. “Nicole’s dressmaker thought that since my outerwear had to be coarse, my underwear should be…should be…”