Lessons of the Heart (Daughters of the Prairie 2)

“Of course, the heat will add to almost anything, but I truly feel she’s overworked.”

“Now just one minute—”

“I know her mother is gone. I’m so very sorry about that, sir. And I know the work needs to get done. I grew up on a farm, and my pa’s a preacher, so much of the work fell to my ma, my sister, and me. I’m no stranger to hard work. But Mary Alice is still a child. She needs time to play. And she really shouldn’t neglect her studies. She’s so bright.”

Tarnation, this woman liked to talk. Who the hell did she think she was? Telling him how to raise his child. She was still squawking like a prairie chicken, mostly about his failures as a father.

In a blaze of angry passion, he shut her up the only way he could think of with his body heating as it was.

He gripped her shoulders, pulled her to his chest, and crushed his mouth to hers.

Chapter Four

“Mister—mmmmmpphhhh…” Ruth’s words stopped as lips—full, firm, male lips—pressed against hers.

They slid, they nibbled, and then they settled on hers, and a growling, soft and low in his throat, hummed against her mouth.

Goodness, she should put a stop to this unseemly conduct. And in her schoolroom, no less. Her hands wandered to his chest to push him away. But when the moist tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips—such a new and inviting sensation—she dropped her arms to her sides and went limp against his hard body.

What to do? Part her lips? She knew how men liked to kiss. She’d heard enough about it from her married friends, but she’d never experienced the pleasure. What if she did it wrong?

What if she did it with the wrong man?

Garth Mackenzie was attractive. Handsome as any man. And God love him, he was tall. So tall and masculine and beautiful.

But he wasn’t exactly a nice man. He didn’t seem to respect her or her position. Didn’t take the greatest care of his child…

Ah, but his lips, so urgent against hers. Those little moans, those tiny nips.

She wanted to kiss him.

With a shallow breath through her nose, she parted her lips. His tongue glided into her mouth and his exotic vanilla spice flavor trickled into her. Smooth, masculine, and oh so very delicious.

She inhaled again, another shallow puff, and his raw aroma permeated her body. More spice, a hint of tobacco, and the fresh scent of the open prairie.

Ruth shuddered, her lips numb. She didn’t know how to kiss him, how to respond, but he didn’t seem to mind. He growled against her mouth and deepened his assault.

He slid his large calloused hands up her arms, heating her skin through the fabric of her dress. He trailed over her shoulders to her neck, where he cupped her nape and drew her even closer into his embrace. He swept his other hand over her cheek to her spectacles. He removed them without disturbing the kiss.

Where did he put them? Ruth didn’t care at the moment. She was lost. Lost in the sweet urgency of his mouth against hers.

Her thoughts muddled, and vibrant images of him lying next to her emerged. His body, unclothed, pleasuring hers. A soft sigh escaped her, and he responded with a gentle groan.

His hand left her nape, and glided his fingers down her arms to her hands. He clasped them both firmly. A shiver raced up her spine, spread icy heat throughout her arms, her torso, and landed as an uncontrollable flutter between her legs.

Her hands trembled as Mr. Mackenzie—Garth—placed them on his shoulders. He removed his lips from hers and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek.

“Touch me,” he whispered. “Please.”

Touch him? Oh, she wanted to. She wanted to touch him everywhere. Where to start? How did a woman do this sort of thing? Perspiration—from the stifling schoolhouse or from the heat Garth ignited in her body, she wasn’t sure—beaded on her forehead and rivered down the curves of her neck. Shaking, she extended one hand to his cheek. His golden stubble scraped against her fingers. He turned, then, and placed a gentle moist kiss to her palm. A spike of energy hit her in the gut.

“Oh…” she murmured.

His gaze drew her. Those bronze eyes had darkened and seemed to smolder as he looked at her.

“Your eyes,” he said. “The color of midnight.” He brushed his lips over hers, a feathery caress. “So lovely.”

His mouth slid onto hers again, and she opened to him this time. She wanted his kisses. His embrace. She felt whole. Whole as she’d never felt before.