Let Me Love You Page 5

  “Good afternoon, Bonnie. Is that Tomas? How did he get so tall?”

  Brianna worked into dusk on the Lambert grain. It was actually less expensive to burn kerosene in her lamps for work light than coal in her stove to heat the cabin. The labor of working the mill kept her warm, so she lit the lamp. It was a race against winter, because her mill used water to power it. Once the river iced over three feet from the banks, there would be no more grinding until spring. She couldn’t risk breaking the waterwheel that powered the grinding stone.

  That was a shame, too. She had enough work to grind all winter, but you couldn’t hold back ice. She had begun turning farmers away weeks ago. They would bring their grain back once spring arrived, because she couldn’t be responsible for their crops during the winter. Every order she took now would be on a day-to-day basis. She had no way to judge just when the cold would force her to stop. It was something she would have to decide each morning. Staying up past sunset was the only way to ensure she finished the order. The early morning hours might bring ice that ended her grinding. Besides, the Lambert family only needed their personal flour and cornmeal ground. Bonnie needed to feed her family. Brianna grinned as she stretched out her back. It was worth the ache in her spine. Bonnie had milk cows and she had brought sweet butter to trade. Placed in the back bedroom, it would freeze and keep all the way into spring once Brianna spooned it into thick crocks. The idea of hot biscuits with butter kept her company as she worked into the evening.

  She only walked up to her cabin to light another lamp so that she wouldn’t have to stumble around in a pitch-black room. Now that the window was nailed shut, the front room was dim even during daylight. Checking the lamp, she turned the wick down as far as possible and made sure the lamp was only a third full of oil. She sat the glass lamp in her large cast-iron cooking pot as a precaution against fire. If it turned over, the fire would be contained in the deep iron pot.

  Rubbing her arms, she left the cabin and hurried back to the mill house. A single lamp was lit near the grinding stone and it welcomed her with its yellow glow. Pushing the door closed against the night chill, she clasped the handle that would lower the grinding stone onto the grain waiting to be crushed by its weight. She was going to splurge and make herself an over jacket with that sewing machine. A nice, thick wool one that she could button over her bodice and stays to keep her warm. With the speed of the sewing machine, she’d have the time to make one instead of struggling to keep up with replacing the garments that had worn out past spring and summer.

  “Shut up, dumb ass. She’ll hear you.” Brianna froze as the words floated in the open mill house window. She hadn’t dared nail this window shut. The air would become a thick, swirling mass of chafe and grain partials if she didn’t let the wind in. Turning the wick down on her lamp, she moved across the floor to peer into the darkness that surrounded her cabin. A horrified gasp left her lips as she watched the dark shapes of men in the night. There was a smack and the splintering sound of a wall being torn apart on her cabin. Backing up, she looked around the mill house, cursing her lack of foresight in leaving her father’s rifle up in the cabin. All of her pride shattered as she recognized the pure reality of how helpless she was in the face of lawless men. She had no idea who was breaking into her home or what they wanted, but might made right as darkness masked their deeds. The sound of more wood being splintered sent her franticly searching for any means of protection.

  The horses belonging to her invaders were still in the main drive. One false move and they’d tell their masters that she was scurrying away towards town. The mill house door opened onto that drive and might spook the team if she tried to escape the mill. Chewing on her lip, she considered the only other way out. A trapdoor was set into the floor. It was there for cleaning. You just swept everything out the hatch. Many times she’d washed the plank floor down with buckets of water because she could push the water right out of the room through the trapdoor.

  But there was nothing on the banks of the river to hide behind. Leaving the mill house would get her out of sight of her midnight bandits, but it wouldn’t be much of a trade-off. The only escape the hatch offered her was a freezing cold river that just might kill her faster than the men breaking into her home. “The bitch ain’t here. Try the mill.”

  Freezing water or not, she wasn’t waiting for them to check the mill house.

  Slipping through the open trapdoor, Brianna pressed the hatch back into place once she was crouched beneath the mill. The mud was frozen and her boots slipped on the ice. Heavy boots came down the drive as she turned and slid across the ice on the banks of the river. Her body went right into the flowing center of the water.

  She gasped as she plunged into the near-freezing liquid. Needles pricked up and down her limbs as the current carried her downstream. Moving her arms, she tried to swim faster towards town. Sure, people claimed that death was preferable to dishonor, but she wanted to live. Not end up a victim of the icy current. Keeping her head above the water became harder as her body lost more heat. She could feel the ice on her lips as she gasped for breath and strained to keep her neck up out of the swirling, freezing tempest. The river was trying to pull her into its center. She fought to get back to the slowermoving water along the banks, but ice was thick there and her fingers slipped off every time she tried to grip it.

  Gasping for another breath, she watched the hazy glow of light penetrate the cold trying to numb her brain. The image danced in a crazy motion, with rays shooting out like a star. Forcing her body to strain towards it took every last shred of will that she had. A harsh cry left her lips as she pushed forward, grasping at that single promise of life.

  Pain exploded along her shoulder as she smacked into one of the support beams that made up the dock. All the force of the current went into her, racking her with pain, but she clamped her arms around the rough wood refusing to let loose of the only possibility of escape from the river. Hard shivers shook her as she tried to move her hand farther up the beam to begin climbing out of the river. Her limbs shook violently, but refused to do as her brain commanded. Gritting her teeth, she grunted and forced her hands to claw at the slick wood, welcoming the pain from countless splinters because it meant she was still alive. A dark haze beckoned to her from the water rushing past. It pulled at her dress, clutching at her petticoat, attempting to drag her back into the current. Almost a promise of release from the pain, but she refused to sink into its welcoming folds.

  Because life hurt.

  She knew it. Faced it each and every day, and she wanted to confront it again. Not slip back into the river and the cold, unfeeling embrace of death. Digging her fingers into the wood, she cried as it ripped her skin again, but she pulled her shoulders out of the water in spite of the pain.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Her entire body was hauled out of the water in one swift moment. She flopped onto the dock as her legs collapsed. She contorted in a violent attack of shivering unable to do anything but convulse on the rough planks. Her dress and petticoat were soaked. The weight of the wet fabric felt too much to lift as her heart struggled to move her cold blood. Each breath took an amazing amount of strength to draw into her lungs, every thump of her heart sounded like a gavel landing. Her throat wouldn’t let a single word out as she kicked against her wet clothing in a vain attempt to stand. But she wasn’t even able to roll onto her hands and knees.

  “Holy hell.” A hard hand gripped her head and turned her face up to Sloan’s. “Look at me.” His voice was as hard as his grip. Demand edged the tone as he let her chin go and slipped his hand under the tangled mess of her hair to press flush against her neck. She jolted as the sting cut through the chill moving along her veins. His flesh was as hot as a poker pulled from the fire, sending another rush of agony down her back.

  “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Brianna.”

  Her lips wouldn’t cooperate enough for her to answer. She couldn’t get them to form any words. All that escaped her thro
at was a jumble of sounds that betrayed how much she hurt. Every patch of flesh was ablaze with pain that slashed deep into her joints. He grasped her wrist and bent his knees. With another yank, Sloan flung her over his shoulder. He straightened up without a second of hesitation and moved across the dock at a brisk pace, his boots making sound because of his hurry. She should have been horrified to have her fanny facing up, but it felt like ice was moving through her and it hurt too much for her to worry about anything else. She tried to grasp the black fabric of his duster, to steady her head, but her hands refused to close into a grip.

  A door opened and Sloan kicked it shut behind them. The air in the room burned her cheeks, it felt so warm. She gasped as Sloan let her down. “Try and stand, honey. I’ve got to get your dress off.”

  “B-b-but—” Her teeth knocked against one another as Sloan placed his rifle against the wall. He took hold of her shoulders and steadied her.

  “It’s full of ice.” He stroked a hand over her head and through her hair. Ice hit the floor with a rattle that startled her. She looked down in confusion right before she hissed as Sloan’s fingers touched her neck.

  “You’re h-h-ot.”

  “No, honey, you’re cold. The kind of cold that kills.” His voice was hard but not angry. He grabbed the top of her dress and opened the first few buttons. Disbelief spread through her as she tried to wiggle away from his touch.

  “Your face is blue.” He caught her shoulders and held her steady as he locked gazes with her. “A dip in an icy river can stop a man’s heart. Your dress needs to come off. Now.”

  He finished opening the front of her dress as she tried to think. Caught between the horror of dying and the idea of being undressed in front of him, her mind was completely overwhelmed. He slid her open dress right down her torso and over her hips before she mustered a response. She tried to push his hands aside, but her muscles weren’t obeying her brain’s commands. She still shivered violently, clenching her teeth together to keep them from chattering. Each touch from Sloan’s fingers felt hot enough to sear her skin.

  “I’m sorry, honey, but I only know one way to warm you back up.” His voice was thick with determination. “The clothes come off.”

  Brianna looked up to stare into his eyes. A second later he grabbed the tie lacing her stays. A hard jerk and she felt the garment begin to slacken. He pulled at the cord until her corset dropped to the floor.

  “Oh no…” Her words were whisper soft and full of embarrassment. Her chemise was plastered to her wet skin, leaving very little of her body a mystery. Never once had she ever considered being viewed by a man, even a husband in such a way.

  “Body heat is the only way to keep you from dying on me.”

  The harsh note in his voice frightened her. It was the same tone he’d used on Joseph while aiming his rifle at the man’s gut. She wiggled once more but he followed her and hooked his fingers into the shoulders of her last garment. He pulled her chemise right over her head. He gripped her hips, and her knickers, along with her petticoat, went down her legs so fast she wasn’t sure when he unbuttoned them. A shower of ice hit the floor, filling the small cabin with a rattling sound. Looking down, she stared at the harsh truth of just how dangerous a situation she was in. Her clothing was frozen. Getting free of it was the only way to warm back up.

  But that left her nude.

  A little sound of horror escaped her lips as she found herself standing bare in front of a man. Her brain flatly refused to grasp the complete idea of it. Sloan didn’t give her any time to consider what he was doing. He scooped her up and moved across the floor. He settled her into his bunk in one efficient motion.

  “I’m sorry, honey, but modesty isn’t worth your life.”

  The black duster landed on top of the blankets she was under. He glared at her for a long moment before moving his rifle to lean against the nightstand. He watched her face as he began to open his shirt. She should have protested and found some harsh retort to force past her frozen lips, but she became distracted by the hard flesh each turn of a button revealed. She’d seen her father a few times, bare above the waist, but Sloan looked nothing like her daddy. His chest was wide and covered with thick ridges of muscle. Dark hair ran across his chest, covering each flat male nipple. The dark hair continued down over his belly to disappear under his waistband. He turned and sat on the bunk, levering his boots off. A second later he rolled under the covers and reached for her.

  Contact with his flesh hurt. He was too hot and she strained away from him. Sloan pressed her right back against his body. She could feel his heart beating against her breasts as he hugged her firmly against his burning heat.

  “We have to get your temperature up to normal.”

  He smoothed his hands over her back, molding their frames together. His feet and legs joined the embrace, one knee going right between her thighs. She shook violently as his warm skin touched her. Fear surged through her as she recognized just how correct he was. Her swim had placed her far too close to the border of death. The steady throb of his heart against her own suddenly beckoned with the promise of life.

  “All right.” Her voice was working again. Brianna sighed as she stopped shivering and her muscles began to relax. Tension flowed out of her as she slumped against the solid body heating her frozen flesh. Sloan’s hands moved constantly, smoothing over her spine and her head and even down to her hips. The crisp hair covering his chest teased her skin as she nuzzled her nose against his neck to thaw it. She was suddenly more comfortable than she could remember being in a very long time. Her lungs filled and her eyes refused to remain open as she pressed closer to the warm male holding her. There was no more reason to struggle.

  She couldn’t think and she discovered that she didn’t want to. Not while the scent of Sloan’s skin filled her senses. She’d get back to contemplating her actions later. For the moment she just wanted to indulge her body and be cradled by his strength while she reaped the benefits of not giving up during her fight to live.

  Leaning on him appealed to her as her brain slipped into that dark oblivion it had resisted back in the river.

  God was getting even with him. Sloan wanted to cuss, but gritted his teeth instead. He stroked the back of Brianna’s head and listened to her breathing even out. Tiny shivers still shook her body as she nuzzled against his neck, and his cock ached.

  Yup, the Almighty was calling in a few debts tonight, but it was worth it. Somehow, the privilege of holding her was worth a whole hell of a lot of frustration. Leaning down, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled her sweet scent. It was the purest form of torture, the way her skin smelled. Like roasting meat to a starving man. Time stood still while it worked its way around his head, pushing each and every other thought aside. There was only the craving and the scent that awakened it.

  Hell.

  He gritted his teeth against the feel of her satin-soft skin. She smelled more feminine than he could recall a female ever doing. Almost like she was clean and pure, better somehow than the last woman who’d shared his bed. Her nipples were twin little points poking into his chest. He had to remind himself that it was an icy river that had raised the tender flesh into peaks. Not her journey into his bed. His cock didn’t much care about the detail. The flesh was hard and aching inside his pants, demanding freedom from his britches. He’d left that single garment on, unwilling to trust himself with her clothing lying on the floor. It had been a good bet. There was no way he’d stand the feeling of her thighs against his cock.

  “Stay awake, honey.” His endearment roused her. No one called her “honey” and she’d made sure a few of her more base customers understood that respect was a must if they wanted their grain ground. Sweet-talking wasn’t going to jump their order to the front of her line or gain them a seat at her supper table. Sloan clasped the back of her neck and tipped her head up so that their eyes met. There wasn’t a lot of light in the room, but she felt his stare just about as much as she saw it.

&nbs
p; “You go to sleep while you’re this cold and you might not wake up.” “Oh…of course.” She knew that. When the body was too cold, you had to keep your eyes open. She remembered now. That was why she was fighting to feel the pain back in the river.

  But she was so tired! Bone weary and it was too hard to keep her eyelids up. They fluttered as she fought to stay awake, but her strength was gone, completely drained.

  “I just need to rest my eyes is all.” Her eyelids closed and she sighed in relief.

  Sloan cupped her breast and her eyes bulged open. “Sloan McAlister!” Her voice cracked as she felt each one of his fingers grasping her breast, holding the tender globe with a steady grip that didn’t squeeze too hard. A gleam of enjoyment entered his eyes as he gently stroked her breast, his thumb grazing the sharp point of her nipple. Sensation flooded her, rushing through her chest and over to the opposite breast.

  “Stay awake, Brianna, or I’ll be happy to help you.”

  Heat snaked through her breast, moving across the delicate skin to the hard nipple. Pleasure filled her as she discovered that she enjoyed the way his hand felt on her. It was a terrible time to discover such a fact. Until that moment, her breasts were rarely thought about. The corset lying on the floor kept them laced securely every day. Sloan watched her eyes for a moment before he slid his hand off her tender flesh and down over her ribs. He stroked her back once more as a little wave of disappointment hit her. Her breast missed his touch, the nipple begging for his fingers to stroke it. The idea was so intoxicating she became lost in it, her eyes fluttering shut once more so that she could hide the fantasy from his probing gaze.

  He cupped one side of her bottom next. She jumped as his fingers curled around her cheek and right into the space between her legs. Her head cracked against his chin as she bucked away from the unaccustomed touch. A soft grunt hit her ears, but the hand on her fanny tightened, rubbing and kneading the private portion of her body.