“We can sleep in your brother’s old bedchamber, princess.”
A flush of warm color spread over her cheekbones, and she avoided looking at Reed. “Well, yes, if Melly doesn’t need me.”
“Summer…” Lance said warningly.
She obviously wanted to delay this particular conversation. “You must be hungry and tired—and in need of a bath,” she said with a glance at his attire. “I’ll have Estelle fix you something to eat while I heat some water.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “And don’t tell me I shouldn’t go to the trouble. I fetched enough water in the Comanche camp to know what I’m doing. Did you bring some fresh clothing? If not, I’m sure Reed wouldn’t mind if you borrowed some of his. You’re about the same size—”
“I brought a change of clothes in my saddlebags,” Lance interrupted.
“Good. Then come to the kitchen when you’re through here. I’ll leave you two alone to get reacquainted.” She flashed another smile, which included her brother, and swept out in a rustle of skirts.
Lance glanced at Reed, who was looking solemn again. “I guess I’ll be staying here,” Lance said contentiously, determined not to mince words.
“I guess so,” Reed replied. “I just hope…It…won’t be easy for her, being married to you, Calder.”
His jaw hardened. “It was Summer’s choice.”
“I know. I just don’t want her hurt.”
“She’s my wife, Weston. I don’t want her hurt, either.”
Reed nodded slowly, and Lance felt the worst of his tension ease. It was clear he wouldn’t get a warm welcome into the family, but they weren’t going to try to kick him out, either. It was probably too much to expect anything more.
The kitchen stood at the back of the house, Lance discovered when he went looking. It boasted an iron stove, but the big fireplace apparently was used for most of the cooking, judging by all the hooks and tripods suspended over the coals.
Several large kettles hung there now, and one of the Mexican women was stirring the contents of a pot—some kind of soup, Lance figured from the delicious odors wafting his way. The smell made his stomach grumble. Summer was right. He was damned hungry, after the lengthy journey. He’d ridden hell-for-leather and hadn’t taken the time to eat anything but jerky the whole trip.
Summer came up behind him just then, carrying a pile of snowy white towels. She smiled as she passed him, and addressed the Mexican woman.
“Maritza, this is the man who rescued the señora. My husband…Lance Calder.”
To his surprise, the woman bobbed him a curtsy and grinned broadly. “Welcome, Señor Calder. We are very glad you bring the señora home.”
A small storeroom off the kitchen held a copper tub, and Summer deposited the towels in there. “I told Pedro to bring your saddlebags in here,” she said when she came out. “Sit down, Lance, and we’ll feed you.”
Lance took a seat at the large wooden table, waiting while the women served him a steaming bowl of beef-and-vegetable soup and a plate of fresh cornbread, with a crock of sweet butter and some homemade apple marmalade to go along.
Summer filled the tub while he ate, making small talk and listening as he told her about delivering the horses to Fights Bear’s warriors, and expressing her relief that everything had gone smoothly.
She wouldn’t attend his bath, though. Not even when some devil inside prodded Lance to remind her of the time he’d taken her to the creek to bathe.
“You weren’t so shy then, as I remember, princess. What’s wrong? You afraid to see me without my clothes on now? After all the time we’ve been married?”
Her cheeks flushing with color, Summer sent an embarrassed glance toward the Mexican woman standing at the fireplace and murmured an excuse about needing to prepare his room. Before he could stop her, she had fled from the kitchen.
Lance stared after her, his mouth tightening. It seemed Summer was ashamed to have anyone know they slept together as man and wife. But she had better get over her offended sensibilities pretty soon. He wasn’t going to let her deny him his marital rights any longer.
Telling himself there would be time enough to press the issue, though, he shut the door to the bathroom behind him and began stripping off his filthy clothes.
Upstairs in the bedchamber that had once belonged to her brothers, Summer felt the warmth gradually fade from her face as she busied herself arranging the flowers Consuala had brought in from the garden.
She’d already checked to see that there were fresh sheets on the bed, but her glance kept straying to the large four-poster, where in all likelihood she would be sleeping with Lance tonight, where in all probability he would take her body with the kind of passion he’d shown her during most of their marriage.
Faith, she wished he hadn’t reminded her of how abnormal their relationship was. In the Comanche camp, their lovemaking, while wild and primitive, had seemed almost natural, part of the untamed setting. But what had been an earthy mating between husband and wife there would seem entirely wanton here, depraved even, now that they’d returned to civilization. What had been acceptable there just wasn’t done between ladies and gentlemen. Why, Amelia had once confessed she’d never even undressed in front of her husband, let alone let him do the kind of scandalous things Lance had done to her.
Summer felt unwelcome heat steal back into her cheeks, and scolded herself for allowing it. She would have to learn to quell the hot feelings Lance aroused in her before she turned into a complete hussy. And hide her embarrassment. All he had to do was hint at the things that had happened between them, and she flamed up like a torch. If she kept that up, soon everyone would know just how appealing she found her husband’s lust and—
“Summer, what are you doing?”