Lessons of the Heart (Daughters of the Prairie 2)

“Garth!” Her whisper was urgent.

He met her midnight eyes. “You didn’t like that?”

“I…gracious me. This is…wrong.”

“Nothing that feels good is wrong, Ruthie. Please. Let me.”

Before she answered, he pulled the silky chemise downward and one perfectly rounded breast fell into his hand. The nipple was reddish brown—earthy and gorgeous—and had he had a gun to his head at that very moment, he wasn’t sure he could have stopped his lips from claiming it.

She was as delicious as he’d imagined, and again, so responsive. She writhed against him, and husky little moans drifted through the small room. He sucked her slowly at first, tiny licks and kisses, and then, when she pushed toward him and ground her thigh against his arousal, he clamped his lips on the sweet nipple and sucked hard.

“Heavens!” she whispered.

“Mmm,” he said against her warm flesh.

“Garth…”

He let the nipple go and kissed the creamy swell of her breast. He looked up into her nearly black eyes.

“I…I can’t…”

“I want you so much.” His tone was imploring. God, when had he become so needy and pathetic? “Let me love you. Please.”

“I…I…” Her husky voice thrummed into him.

“What, honey? What?”

“I…we’re not properly wed, Mr. Mackenzie. It’s…it’s wrong.”

Wed? Hell and damnation, he’d wed her this instant if it meant he could make love to her. He wanted her that much. But despite the fact that he was no gentleman—could never be a gentleman, given his past—he wouldn’t take anything from a woman that wasn’t given willingly. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Mary Alice’s voice cut through the tension in the air.

“Pa!”

He jerked away, his mind and body still full of Ruth. He inhaled. Burning grass. Smoke. Damn it, smoke.

“Ruth, did you leave a fire in the fireplace?”

Ruth, her cheeks a delectable pink, hastily worked on her buttons. “In this heat? Of course not.”

“What in tarnation…” He stood and ran to Mary Alice’s bedroom. She was sitting up in bed.

“Child, are you all right?”

“Y-Yes, Pa. But I smell smoke.”

“I do too. Stay here.

Garth ran through the kitchen and out the lean-to. A billowing black cloud dusted the horizon. A prairie fire. And his place was farthest on the outskirts of Dugan. It was headed straight for his home. For his livelihood. For his child. For Ruth.

Goddamned Dakota heat. Hadn’t had any rain in weeks, and the winter had been mild. Little snow. Dry prairie plus heat plus afternoon heat lightning—well, he didn’t need the schoolteacher in his bedroom to figure this out.

The schoolteacher in his bedroom.

He rushed back into the house. Ruth was walking into the kitchen, her cute nose wrinkled.

She nodded to him. “Fire?”

He closed his eyes, and then opened them. “On the prairie. Comin’ this way. I need you to take Mary Alice out of here.”