“I also promised to change your mind.” He leaned down. His feathery kiss turned deeper when Tori moaned. He pulled her against him, her breasts crushed to his broad chest. She melted in his arms, then moved her hands to play with the silky ends of his hair.
Jesse shifted and pulled her across his lap. The evidence of his desire pressed against her thigh. He cupped her breast, rubbing her stiff nipple.
Tori pushed the covers away with her feet. Her heart pounded so hard, it seemed to want to gallop out her mouth. She’d missed this, feeling secure when Jesse held her. The warmth and scent of his body close to hers. He smelled of soap, fresh air, and Jesse. Her body relaxed as his fingers worked their magic. Oh, if she could only let go. Forget her fear, let her husband make love to her as much as she wanted, needed.
He unbuttoned her nightgown. Good, her blood boiled. His hand on her naked skin elicited a groan. Then her brain froze, scenes flashing behind her closed eyes. How she ached when she lost the baby. Blood, p
ain, fear. How she destroyed the small life inside her because of her stubbornness.
Jesse knew the minute he’d lost her. She’d been melting like butter left in the sun. Her heart pounded in rhythm with his. Her restless movements spoke of the passion and desire that had driven him crazy for weeks. Then, from nowhere, she tensed and pulled away.
She pushed at him, gulping for air. He took her hands in his, hoping they trembled with leftover passion. Her eyes were wild, wide with fear. He let her go as soon as he saw the terror hidden in their depths. With steady hands, he grazed her flushed cheek with his knuckles.
“It’s okay, honey.”
“I can’t.” She dropped back on the bed, then rolled away from him, buttoning her nightgown. “I just can’t.”
Jesse blew out a deep breath, then ran his fingers through his hair to give his body time to calm down. It got harder and harder to control himself.
Harder seemed to be his constant state.
Maybe Tori moving back wasn’t a good idea after all. Maybe, in fact, she would never recover from losing their baby. Years of frustration marched through his mind, like crippled soldiers on parade.
The bed dipped again as he stood, then reached his miserable little cot, grabbed his pants, and yanked them on. He pulled off his nightshirt, then tugged on a shirt. He stuffed it into his pants with one hand as he scooped up his shoes with the other and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Her small voice came from the direction of the bed.
He stopped, leaned his head against the door, and took a deep breath.
“To dunk my head in a bucket of very cold water.” He jerked the door open, closing it a lot quieter than he wanted to.
Tori lay on her side, listening to her husband leave because of her fears. A thought hit her like an epiphany. She loved the man she’d sent away from her, loved him with her whole heart.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t love him with her body. How long before he returned the looks from the women Katherine had mentioned? Or took up with the buxom blonde at The Bottomless Bucket who’d offered him a drink, along with anything else? He was a man, with a man’s needs. Did she want to be another Mrs. Boswell, trying to shut down a saloon to keep her husband from frolicking with the girls upstairs?
She flipped onto her back, hugged her middle. Moonlight played across the ceiling. Tiny shadows soothed her jagged nerves. She closed her eyes in an attempt to sleep. One tear leaked, then trickled down her flushed cheek.
Jesse stormed out of the house, down the street, and then stopped. Where the hell was he going? He had no desire to visit a saloon, especially with his wife the subject of jokes there. He was probably banned for life at The Bottomless Bucket anyway. He sighed and, shoulders slumped, walked home.
He settled himself in a comfortable chair Tori had bought. Leaning his head back, he stared at the ceiling. A glass of brandy would help him sleep.
After two glasses of brandy, an hour of gazing at flames in the fireplace, he banked the fire and headed to bed.
A sliver of moon cast enough light in the room so he could see Tori. She lay on her side facing him. The rise and fall of the light blanket assured him she slept. As he took his clothes off once again, he studied his wife’s face. Even in slumber, she appeared worried and tense. Since she was already asleep, he skipped the nightshirt, which he detested anyway. He settled himself, trying to get comfortable, which didn’t seem possible given the cot was hard and too short for his large frame.
Tori stared aghast at blood pouring from between her legs. Her baby was dying. She gripped her stomach, trying to keep it inside. If she could, her baby would grow and live. She grabbed Dr. Hendricks’s hand, begging him to help. Her bloody hands slipped down his shirt as he shook his head in disgust. Tears poured from her eyes, then her baby slipped out, a shriveled bundle. She tried to push it back in, but couldn’t. So much blood! Then Jesse stood in front of her, frowning. “This is your fault. I told you to cut your work hours.” She screamed, “No. Help me,” still trying to push the baby back in. “Help me push. I know we can do it. Help me, Jesse, please.”
Jesse bolted upright, his heart pounding. A horrible scream woke him. Disoriented for a minute, he stumbled from the bed, then glanced around. Tori thrashed on the big bed across the room. He rushed over and dropped to his knees. A glean of sweat covered her face, mixed with tears. She shouted, “No, I didn’t mean it.”
Jesse climbed into bed and shook her.
“Tori. Tori. Wake up, honey.” He pushed sweat covered ringlets off her forehead.
“Wake up, Tori.”
Abruptly, she opened her eyes, her mouth working in fear. She threw her arms around him and sobbed.
“Honey, you had a nightmare. Only a dream, it’s over now.”