“It’s…it’s…” Her mind jumbled, unable to form what she wanted to say. Needed to say.
Her heart thumped. Her whole body quivered. The wet place between her legs felt hot, swollen.
Empty. Sweet Lord, so empty and aching. A void only Garth could fill.
Yes, he wanted to fill her. Wanted to lie with her. He’d said so, through both words and actions. Even said he’d marry her to have her.
Images of naked bodies swirled through her head. She wanted him. That she could never deny. Her body would betray her lies anyway.
Still, a problem existed. One she couldn’t overlook.
He hadn’t said anything about love.
Chapter Eight
He’d gone too far. Ruth’s pretty face paled with fear. She backed against the adjoining door, her hands flat against the panel, her knuckles white with tension, as though she wanted to melt into the wood. Her tousled mahogany waves fell around her shoulders in disarray. Her chemise was crumpled and her petticoats twisted from his maneuverings. Criminy, he hadn’t meant to scare her. Hadn’t meant to do anything, truth be told. He was filthy and bone weary. Though his cock thought otherwise, he was in no shape to make love to a woman.
Especially not this woman. He wanted her with a passion he hadn’t felt in years, maybe not ever. He wanted the first time with Ruth to be perfect, which included him being freshly bathed and thoroughly awake and involved.
He forced himself not to walk toward her. Didn’t even reach out. “Ruth. Forgive me.”
Her lips trembled, but she nodded, her gaze arrowed to the plank floor.
“I’d never hurt you. I swear it.”
She nodded again.
This time he took a few steps, until he was close enough to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. Tears misted in her eyes.
Damn.
“Don’t cry, honey. I’m so sorry.”
She sniffed. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“Thank God.” He leaned in to kiss her lips, but the look of pure horror in her midnight eyes stopped him. Damnation, what had he done? What could he do to make this up to her?
He backed off and turned the crystal door knob. “Come on.” He led her to the bed where Mary Alice slept. “Bedtime.” He helped her lie down next to his daughter who still slept soundly. He covered her with the bedding and bent to give her a chaste kiss on her tear-stained cheek. He strode to the other side of the bed, kissed his daughter, and then returned to the adjoining room and closed the door.
He stripped off his soiled clothing and lay down on the bed stark naked, his erection still throbbing. Too exhausted even to sate himself, he closed his eyes and fell into slumber.
* * *
Ruth opened her eyes to the first rays of sunrise. She sat up in bed and stretched. Mary Alice still slept soundly beside her. She nudged the little girl. “Mary Alice, it’s morning. Time to get up.”
The child let out a low snore and turned over. No matter. She could sleep a while longer.
Ruth’s body tingled, still hyper aware from Garth’s touch. She wiped the image from her mind and left the bed. After tidying the room a bit, she donned her dress and sat in front of the looking glass. She had no comb and brush, and her hair was a disheveled mess. She sighed. Oh, well, nothing to be done. She finger-combed it and plaited it in a loose braid.
She left the room quietly so as not to disturb Mary Alice. After a quick trip to the water closet, she walked downstairs to order some breakfast.
Back in the room, Mary Alice still hadn’t stirred. The adjoining door drew Ruth’s gaze. Garth was behind that door, most likely still sleeping, his masculine body sprawled upon the bed.
She shook her head to clear it. Such thoughts had no place. She’d decided long ago not to marry for any reason other than love, and when no men had come courting, she’d resigned herself to spinsterhood. Now, suddenly, two men wanted her. One wanted to court her respectfully because the time had come for him to marry. Yes, he admired her intelligence. That much was clear, and she should be thankful. But he also wanted to breed size into his line. And size she had in abundance. She’d bear him strong, intelligent, tall sons.
The other cared nothing for her intelligence, at least as far as she knew. And he certainly didn’t need her to bear him strong sons. Garth Mackenzie’s seed could no doubt produce a strapping lad from the most frail and petite woman on earth.
No, he merely wanted to bed her. She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the concept. The most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on wanted her in his bed. Plain Ruth Blackburn. Average. A C.