The Barefoot Bride Read online

  Nessie began to cry, and Whit backed toward the front door, eyes wide for the demon that had frightened his mother.

  “Hellfire and damnation,” Seth repeated. “Patch, get that raccoon out of here.”

  Molly gasped. “Raccoon?”

  “Come on, Bandit. It's about time I put you to bed.” Patch scooped the perfectly tame animal up into her arms. Its bushy, black-ringed tail promptly curled around her neck.

  Molly watched in amazement as Patch disappeared into her room with the small, black-masked creature. She turned stunned brown eyes to Seth. “She keeps a raccoon in her bedroom?”

  “It was sucking eggs in the henhouse,” Seth explained.

  “So she made a pet of it?” Molly asked incredulously.

  “Can I see the raccoon?” Whit asked. “Do you think Patch will show it to me?”

  “I want to see the raccoon,” Nessie said.

  Molly shook her head in disbelief.

  Seth took command of the situation, ushering her two children into Patch's room. “The Gallaghers want to meet Bandit. Why don't you introduce him while I talk to their mother?”

  Seth didn't really give his daughter any choice, leaving the room and shutting the door behind himself. He marched over to Molly and took her by the elbow, then walked her over and sat her down in the chair behind his desk. Then he went around the room lighting lanterns to stave off the dark.

  “I think we better have a talk,” he said. He took a spread-legged stance in front of the stone fireplace.

  Molly sat stiffly on the swivel chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

  “I hadn't counted on you having any children,” Seth admitted. “If I'd known about them, I might have made some arrangements.” He raised an accusing brow. “However, since I didn't, it appears we'll have to manage as best we can until Ethan and I can get another bedroom built.”

  Molly took a deep breath and let it out. “I won't be able to sleep unless I know my children are under the same roof as I am.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “You and Whit can share your room. Patch, Nessie, and I will manage in Patch's room.”

  Seth shook his head no. “I don't think Patch will go for it.”

  “Patch is a child. She'll do as she's told,” Molly said, exasperated.

  “That's what you think,” Seth muttered.

  Molly folded her arms across her chest. “That's my final offer.”

  That was her only offer, Seth thought ruefully. He was more frustrated than he could remember being in a long time. He wanted Molly in his bedroom alone. It wasn't that he'd been that long without a woman. He'd seen Dora Deveraux not more than a week ago. But he wanted Molly. And his best estimate on building another bedroom onto the house was a good two to three weeks. He had no intention of waiting that long to bed the woman he had just made his wife.

  So be it. There were other places they could use for a marriage bed. A stack of hay in the barn or a grassy spot beneath the cot-tonwoods would do just as well. He would find the time and choose the place. And make her his.

  “Shall we go tell the children our decision?” he said.

  “All right.”

  When Seth opened Patch's door, he wasn't sure what to expect. To his surprise, Nessie was sitting cross-legged on the foot of Patch's four-poster bed. Whit and Patch were hunkered down in the corner beside the raccoon's box.

  “Patch. Whit.”

  The two of them stood and faced Seth. “Molly and I have talked it over, and we've come to a decision. Whit and I will share my room, while Molly and you girls will sleep in here.”

  “This is my bedroom!” Patch protested.

  “Don't argue,” Seth said in a no-nonsense voice.

  “I won't stay here with them,” Patch said. Before Seth realized what she was going to do, she slipped out the open bedroom window and was gone.

  “Aren't you going after her?” Molly asked.

  Seth shrugged. “She's just going to Ethan's place. She'll come home when she gets over being mad.”

  Molly put a hand on his arm and felt his muscles tense beneath her fingers. “I'm sorry for all the trouble. I'll make it up to you. I promise.”

  Seth sighed. “I'll go get the trunks.” A few minutes later he was back. Molly marveled at his immense strength as he set two huge trunks down lightly on Patch's floor. Seth crossed to the door, then turned and said, “You come when you like, Whit. But once I'm in bed, the lanterns go out, and it'll be dark finding your way.”

  A second later Whit followed Seth out the door.

  Molly was in awe of the way Seth had manipulated her son without forcing a confrontation. But then, as she was quickly learning, that was his way.

  “I'm tired, Mama,” Nessie said, yawning hugely.

  “I'm not surprised, darling. It's time we all went to bed. If I'm not mistaken, morning comes very early in Montana.”

  Molly found a nightgown for Nessie and tucked her in, all the time wondering how Whit was getting along. She knew he would be mortified if she came and tucked him in, but all the same she missed the traditional bedtime ritual. How quickly their lives had changed!

  Once Nessie was settled, Molly undressed and put on a warm flannel nightgown. She honestly tried to sleep, but the foreign night sounds she heard through the open window kept her awake. After shifting and tossing for an hour, she decided enough was enough. The house was quiet, and as stealthily as a thief, she stole from her bedroom out the front door to the porch. She had just sat down on the steps when a hand clamped down on her shoulder. Another hand quickly clamped over her mouth, cutting off her scream.

  Molly fought like a wildcat, writhing and clawing and kicking against the hands that held her. At last she began to tire, and the hissing sounds she had been hearing through a haze of terror took form as words.

  “I'm not going to hurt you. Settle down before you wake up the whole house.”

  Molly shuddered. It was Seth. Good lord. She'd been fighting her own husband. Her knees felt like jelly. He helped her to sit as her legs collapsed under her, then joined her on the steps.

  She covered her face with her hands and fought to hold back a sob of relief. “I thought you were—I don't know what I thought.”

  “I didn't want you to scream and wake everyone up,” he said. “I'm sorry I frightened you. What are you doing out here?”

  “I couldn't sleep.” She met his concerned gaze and raised a sardonic brow. “I thought it might be relaxing to sit on the porch for a while, maybe take a walk/’

  “It's not safe for you out here alone.”

  “So I found out.”

  His smile flashed white in the moonlight. “Come on. I'll walk with you.”

  “That's not necessary. I—”

  He took her hand and pulled her up and without looking back started off toward the pond. He stopped abruptly when he heard her yelp in pain. “What's wrong?”

  Molly stood on one foot and lifted the other to expose a huge sticker.

  “Don't you ever wear shoes?” he asked with amused exasperation.

  “Believe me, I will from now on,” she responded tartly.

  “Here, let me help.”

  Before she could object, Seth lifted her into his arms and headed back to the porch. He set her down on the top step and sat down near her, but on the lowest of the three steps. Gently, he lifted her foot into his lap and turned it so he could see the burr in the moonlight. A moment later, he had it out.

  “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

  “Not nearly so bad as the beesting I got running in a field of clover when I was seven,” she agreed.

  He smiled again. “So going barefoot is an old habit with you?”

  She laughed. “When I was little, my family had a farm in Ireland. I can still remember the feel of grass between my toes and the cool softness of new-plowed earth. Funny, I haven't thought about that in years.”

  His hand surrounded her foot. His thumbs pressed into her arch, c
ausing a disturbingly erotic response.

  Molly tried pulling her foot away, but he not only held on, he reached for the other one and rested them both on his thigh. “Your feet are like ice. Let me warm them up.”

  “No, really, I—” She gasped as he pulled up his long-john shirt and set her feet against his bare flesh. She instinctively curled her toes into the wiry black hair that covered his chest.

  He chuckled and grabbed her toes to hold them still. “You're liable to tickle me to death if you aren't careful.”

  Instantly Molly stilled, abashed. In all the years she had been married to James, they had never done anything quite like this.

  “So how does an Irish farmer's daughter become a Massachusetts lady?” he asked as he began to caress her feet again under the pretense of warming them.

  Molly was slightly breathless as she answered, “Like so many others, my father brought his family to America, looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.” She shivered from the touch of his hands and hid it with a shrug. “He found it—selling whiskey on the waterfront in Boston.”

  With her feet situated where they were, Molly felt Seth stiffen. She didn't know what she had said to offend him, but guessed, “Is it spirits in general you're against? Or those who sell them?”

  He stopped what he was doing and searched her face a moment. ‘Tor married folks I guess we really don't know much about each other,” he admitted ruefully. “As a doctor, I've seen too many hurt by bad whiskey—and good whiskey, for that matter. In Fort Benton there's a man named Drake Bassett who's selling the bad kind. He's hired Pike Hardesty to back him. I guess my neckhairs just naturally came up when you mentioned the subject.”

  He began stroking her feet again, his thumbs pressing into the tender flesh of her arches, his fingers caressing her toes. It was the most exquisite, the most sensual experience Molly had ever had. But it wasn't only the soft soles and arches of her feet thatcaught fire. With every titillating brush of his fingers there was a corresponding flare deep within her. She knew it had to be wrong to let him do this to her. They'd only just met, for heaven's sake! But he made it seem a mere kindness. And after all, it was only her feet

  “About this man selling bad whiskey,” Molly said. “Why doesn't the law stop him?”

  “There isn't any law to speak of in Fort Benton right now. Pike Hardesty shot the sheriff eight months ago—in a fair fight—and no one else has been willing to take his place. Pike has everyone too scared to make a move.” He paused and added, “Except the Masked Marauder.”

  “Who?”

  Seth grinned. “The Masked Marauder. Nobody knows for sure who he is or where he comes from. But he's on the side of the law, which makes him Bassett's enemy. Whenever someone is in trouble, the Marauder rides to the rescue, guns blazing.”

  “He sounds like a very brave man. Why do you suppose he keeps his identity a secret?”

  “He has his reasons, I'm sure.”

  “I'll bet he's well known in town,” Molly guessed. “And if people saw him, they'd recognize him.”

  “Maybe,” Seth said. “And maybe he's nobody and wants to stay that way.”

  Molly angled her head so she could see Seth's face. His features had hardened, along with his voice. She caught her breath and said, “You know who he is.”

  Seth abruptly stopped rubbing her feet. “Nobody knows who he is.” And to make sure she knew the conversation was at an end, he said, “Are you about ready for bed?”

  With Molly sitting on the top step and Seth on the bottom, they were almost eye to eye. She reached up a hand in an unconscious action to smooth the hair from his brow, as she might have done with one of her children. He grabbed her wrist to stop her, then changed his mind. His hand dropped to his side.

  Self-conscious now, Molly met his piercing gaze as she finished what she had started. His black hair was thick and surprisingly silky. She felt him shiver as her thumb brushed his temple. Then her hand fell away, and they sat there staring, totally aware of each other.

  “I don't love you,” Seth said in a quiet voice. “I'm not sure I can ever love another woman. But I want you—desire you—with every breath I take.”

  “Seth, I—”

  He began murmuring words he might have used to soothe a frightened colt, because he could tell she was skittish. He had never suspected that simply caressing a woman's feet could arouse her. It had started innocently enough. But as her lids had lowered over her eyes, as her mouth fell open to draw shorter, panting breaths, and as her toes curled sensuously against his flesh, he had realized she desired him. His hands circled her ankles, and slowly, languidly, he began to draw her legs around his waist.

  As she slid down onto his lap, his hands traveled up the velvety length of her legs, pushing her flannel nightgown up and out of his way so that her bare legs could surround him.

  Moments later, she was sitting on his lap facing him, the heart of her snug against the heat of him. Her hands rested tentatively on his shoulders. Wide-eyed, she stared at him as his hands slowly curved around her naked buttocks and lifted her up and more fully onto him.

  Molly couldn't breathe, the feelings were so exquisite. She could feel him. He was hard. And there was a throbbing heat. Molly laid her head on his shoulder but could not bring herself to do anything to further his seduction of her.

  Seth framed her face with his hands. He forced her head back and looked deep into her eyes to see what she was feeling. And then his mouth closed over hers. It was a kiss of possession.

  His voice when next he spoke was hoarse with need. “Come to bed with me, Molly.”

  Molly blushed scarlet. “But Whit—”

  “We can go to the barn or—”

  “I can't! I never intended—”

  “I want you, Molly Gallagher Kendrick.”

  “I can't! James—”

  “You're my wife now!” he said fiercely.

  Seth's mouth was hard, and his embrace nearly crushed the breath out of her. His need, raw and honest, spurred her response. She thrust her fingers into his hair and opened her mouth under his. His tongue plundered, his hands ravished. He grasped her hips and pulled her hard against him. The cloth of his jeans abraded her tender skin, sending small tremors of pleasure rolling through her. Molly couldn't catch her breath; she felt out of control and couldn't catch up with the turbulent sensations roiling through her body.

  “Mama?”

  Seth and Molly broke apart like two teenagers caught spooning when the preacher comes to call. There was a mad scramble as Molly tried to scoot out of Seth's lap. He just grabbed her at the waist and stood. Her bare feet dropped to the ground, and the flannel nightgown surrounded her once more. He held her tight against him for an instant. Then with a monumental effort of will and a gusty sigh of resignation, he let her go.

  A moment later, Nessie shoved open the front door.

  “I couldn't find you, Mama,” the little girl said. “I got scared.”

  Molly scooped the child up in her arms as she tried desperately to regain her equilibrium. Her breathing was still ragged, her pulse thrumming. “I couldn't sleep, Nessie. I just came out to sit for a while on the porch with Seth. Come on. Let's go back to bed.”

  As she stepped inside the house, she threw a quick look over her shoulder. Seth stood in the shadows, tall and forbidding. It had been a narrow escape. She might even now be lying beneath him on a bed of straw, had Nessie not interrupted them. And how would she have felt tomorrow morning if she had?

  Wonderful! It would have been wonderful! a voice cried.

  But the grieving widow was appalled at what she had nearly done. It was nearly dawn before Molly closed her eyes at last.

  Seth didn't have much more success getting to sleep. He hadn't stayed on the porch much past Molly's departure, just long enough for his blood to slow and his body to settle down. When he finally returned to his bedroom, he found Molly's son sitting up in bed waiting for him.

  The whites of th
e boy's eyes showed his fright. “Who's there?” Whit asked in a small voice.

  “It's me, Seth.”

  He watched the boy visibly relax.

  “I woke up,” Whit said, “and no one was here.”

  Whit didn't admit he was scared. With what Seth had seen of the kid's pride, he knew the boy probably would have been appalled to know Seth even suspected such a thing.

  “I just stepped out for some fresh air,” Seth said. “You'd better get to sleep. We've got a hard day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  Whit lay back down, but his body was stiff. Seth pulled off his boots and socks, then skinned out of his jeans, leaving him in his long John underwear. Normally he would have removed that as well, but in deference to the boy, he left it on. He slipped under the covers and lay as stiff as the youth on the other side of the bed.

  He closed his eyes, which made his other senses more acute. He heard Whit's indrawn breath and the muffled sound of what might have been a sob. And felt the small jerky movements of the body beside him. Seth wasn't sure what he could, or should, do. To notice at all would be to humiliate the boy.

  Suddenly, Whit rolled over and pulled the pillow hard against his mouth. His legs drew up into his stomach. Seth felt Whit's desolation; he couldn't ignore it.

  “I lost my father when I was only a little older than you,” he began. “I was fifteen. My mother died when I was born. Pa always told me if I wanted to see her, I could look in the mirror, because I had her eyes.”

  The sobbing stopped abruptly, and the small form on the other side of the bed was still. Seth kept on talking.

  “Pa and me, we had a small place southwest of San Antonio with a few head of cattle. Texas had been annexed by the States, and Mexico decided to make an issue of it. I wanted to join the army and fight Mexicans. Pa absolutely forbade it.”

  Seth paused, remembering the ferocious argument they'd had, the harsh words that had been spoken.

  A small voice from the other side of the bed said, “I wanted to go to sea, to be a whaler, like my pa. I left a note when I ran away, but Mother came and made me get off the ship. She brought me here to keep me away from the sea.”

  Seth smiled in the darkness. That explained why Molly Gallagher had accepted his offer of marriage so promptly. ‘That story sounds a lot like mine,” he said.