Harvest Moon (Borrowed Brides 2)

David leaned toward the door and attempted to insert the key. It bounced off the keyhole, slipped from his grasp, and fell to the sidewalk with a loud metallic ping. David swore vehemently, first in Cherokee, then in English, and bent to retrieve it.

He groaned in agony, cursing louder as his head struck the polished brass doorknob. He grabbed the key from the wooden planks near his right boot and, holding it firmly, aimed again for the keyhole below the knob.

Suddenly the door opened. Off-balance, David lurched into the office, only to be brought up short by the feminine softness pressed against the front of his coat.

Tessa staggered beneath his weight. Reacting instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his waist to steady him and keep them both from falling to the hard floor.

David grabbed hold of her.

She gasped in shock when the cold metal key touched her shoulder. It burned through the nightgown she wore, just as the bitter cold wind whipped the door back on its hinges and whirled through the office. Tessa stepped back, half-dragging David with her.

“Come inside,” she hissed through teeth clenched against the cold. “You’re freezing both of us!” She released her grip on him, moving farther back into the room, stamping her bare feet against the wooden floor in an effort to warm them.

David lunged forward.

Tessa stepped around him and slammed the door before hurrying toward the stove. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms, shivering in the chilly air. She turned back to him, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it without uttering a sound.

He stood completely still, just inside the doorway, staring at her.

Tessa sighed heavily, then walked over to him. She took the door key from him and placed it on his desk, then grasped his index finger and jerked his calfskin glove off his hand. The other glove followed. Tessa laid them next to the key. She unwound the scarf from his neck and shook the snow from its folds. After tossing his muffler in the direction of the chairs arranged near the stove, she began unbuttoning his heavy coat and brushing the snowflakes from his shiny black hair.

David watched her as she went about the task of undressing him. She removed his clothing automatically, with complete disregard for the fact that he was a grown man. She undressed him as if he were a slow, backward child, and she was afraid he might catch cold. But David was a man, a man very much aware of her nearness and her own scant clothing. His heart thudded against his chest as she undid the last button on his jacket and pulled it open. He moved then, for the first time since she’d closed the front door, pulling Tessa forward into his arms, wrapping her up inside his coat to warm her against his body.

Tessa absorbed his warmth, pressing closer to him. His heat banished the chill throughout her body, leaving only her feet exposed and frozen. She shifted in his embrace, moving closer, rubbing her face against the softness of his linen shirt. She sighed in sheer bliss. He was the embodiment of all that was warm and strong and safe. Tessa inhaled the scent of him, seeking the clean, masculine smells she remembered from the jail. But she got instead the odor of cheap cigars, beer, whisky, and perfume. Too much perfume. A sweet, cloying fragrance she’d smelled too many times to count.

Forgetting her plan to lull him into a sense of security and remembering how he’d looked with that harlot, Tessa shoved at his chest, pushing him away with a force that took David by surprise.

“You’ve been to the Satin Slipper,” she stated.

“What?” David was momentarily stunned by the sudden change in her. His warm, willing kitten had turned into a spitting hellcat.

“The Satin Slipper,” she repeated, carefully enunciating each word so his whisky-sodden brain could comprehend. “You’ve been to the Satin Slipper.”

“And?” David prompted, wondering where the discussion was heading and why.

“And you’ve been drinking and carousing, no doubt.” Her brogue thickened with each word, her breasts heaved against the fabric of her nightgown, her cheeks pinkened, and her blue-eyed gaze shot daggers at him. She gave every appearance of a woman betrayed.

The accusation fascinated David. “You knew I was going to get a drink,” he reminded her. “I told you before I left.”

“Before you ran out of here, you mean,” Tessa retorted. “And I thought you were going to get a drink, not while away the whole night in the bed of some…you know…” She looked up at him, then turned on her heel and headed for the stove.

“How do you know

I was in bed with one of the girls?” David asked, wondering if she’d try to lie.

“You stink of cheap women and drink. Where else could you have been?”

“At the bar,” David answered, waiting for her reaction.

“I’ll heat some water so you can wash.”

“I don’t want hot water.”

Tessa ignored him, taking the kettle from the stove and carrying it to the pump.

David followed her as far as the stove, then opened the iron door and shoveled a scoop of coal inside.

Tessa finished pumping the water and turned to face him. “Hot or cold, it makes no difference to me. But I’ll not have you drunk and stinking of excess while I’m here.”