Harmony (Journey's End Book 3) Page 10

  She squirmed on the hard seat and sent Matt an accusing glare. “My bottom hurts,” she whined. “Can I have a pillow?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “I just bet it does. You may have a pillow this time but don’t get used to it. Your bottom is supposed to be sore.” He nodded agreement with himself and took another sip.

  She fetched a soft pillow from the bed and set it on her chair. A satisfied smile lit her face when she put her bottom on it. “Better,” she sighed.

  A few more hands and Matt had lost his socks, but Harmony had no skirt or sweater. She sat on her naked bottom wearing a thin chemise. Another hand and Matt surrendered his belt and followed it with his handkerchief.

  When Melody lost, a grin the size of Texas lit his handsome face. “That slip has to go,” he told her. “Take a good sip of your whiskey first.” He raised his cup, and they drank deep together.

  Harmony giggled and swayed while trying to remove her last garment.

  “Let me help.” Matt was around the table like a lightning bolt. “Arms up,” he instructed. He whisked the flimsy chemise over her head and dropped it to the floor.

  Harmony bent to reclaim it.

  “No, darlin’,” Matt crooned. “That’s not the way the game goes. Now we wear whatever we have left until supper.”

  “But I have nothing,” Harmony wailed.

  “True enough,” he agreed. He lifted her from her chair and turned her this way and that. Her bottom was still a beautiful rosy pink from her spanking. Mercy, he loved to see his handprints on her bottom. He rubbed her punished backside and gave a small squeeze. A thrill like an electric spark raced around his body. He was a circuit of lust.

  He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the big chair by the fire. He settled her facing him. She leaned into his body and snuggled into his chest. His hands ran down her back and under her bottom. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he allowed his hands to follow the path but drifting closer and closer to her moist center each time. When both hands were under her bottom he lifted her until she was on her knees straddling his thighs. He pulled her bottom cheeks apart until his clever fingers gained access to her wet tunnel. He plunged a finger in and let it slide out and over her sensitive nub.

  Harmony groaned and lifted her body further off the chair. Well, hell, that suited him just fine. Her breasts were now within range of his mouth, and he wasted no time sucking a pink nipple into his mouth. It was already hard and peaked with desire. Not wanting to play favorites, he moved to the other breast and gave the nipple a hard pull and a nip.

  He kept his fingers working her damp femininity until Harmony was mindless with desire. Removing one hand, he set his member free. It escaped his pants and reported ready for duty.

  “You’re going to ride me, darlin’,” he whispered.

  She gazed at him with lust shadowed eyes. “What?”

  He lifted her and positioned himself at her entrance. Then he let her sink onto him, filling her, thrilling him.

  Matt lifted her up and let her slide home again and again. “Like that. You set the pace.” He sat back in the chair and waited. She rocked forward and back. Then she moved up and down. He patted her sensitive bottom and squeezed the red flesh.

  “That’s it,” Matt moaned. “Do what feels best for you. I like it all.”

  She set a pace that suited her. Matt placed his hand between them and pressed on her pleasure point. In a frenzy, Harmony ground a harder, deeper rhythm. Her beautiful breasts bounced past his face, and he seized them one at a time in his hungry mouth.

  Matt held himself steady and stiff. When Harmony threw her head back and shouted his name, he held her firm and climaxed in a series of jerks so hard they were nearly painful. It was beautiful pain. Exquisite pain he would want again and again and again. He would never get enough of his Harmony.

  He had other games he would teach her, but they would always end up this way – with Harmony on her back, on his lap, bent over a table, pressed against a wall. The possibilities flooding his mind were myriad.

  She fell, exhausted, against his chest. He surrounded her with his arms, his protection, his love. They stayed in the chair rocking in silence as the sun dropped behind a mountain and the room filled with purple shadows.

  Her small voice floated through the darkened air. “Can I get dressed now?

  “Ah, do you have to?” he enquired. “I can keep the cabin warm.”

  “Take your clothes off, too,” she said. “Then I won’t mind.”

  She scrambled to her feet and began the task of unbuttoning his shirt. When they were both naked, she gave a satisfied nod.

  Matt served up the chicken soup, and they ate in the glow of a single lantern. If he lived to be one hundred, he’d never forget this night. The night they shared supper, naked, in a cabin high in the Rocky Mountains.

  It would be his most treasured memory.

  Always.

  Chapter 11

  “Wrap the rest of the pancakes in a cloth, Harmony,” Matt said as his last forkful disappeared into his mouth. “We’ll take them with us tomorrow. Easy to carry and filling.”

  Harmony sat with folded hands in her lap. She’d been done a good while back, but Matt ate twice what she did. She didn’t know how he stored all that food behind the ripple of muscles up and down his torso. Running her hands up and down that hard expanse had become her favorite pastime.

  Matt’s voice jerked her back to the here and now. “Are you listening, darlin’?”

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” Harmony tried to add a note of regret to the question, but her musing had been pure pleasure.

  “I’m going to take care of the last two chickens. We’ll fry them up and take what’s left with us. While I do that, go through the supplies in the shed. Pull out what you think we should take with us. You know – light, easy to cook, and easy to carry.”

  Matt carried their dishes to the sink and poured warm water from the kettle over them.

  “Go take care of the chickens,” Harmony said. “I’ll clean up.”

  She’d never washed dishes before their time in the Rockies. Grandmama had staff for that sort of daily task, but Harmony found it satisfying. After hanging up the towel when the last dish was dried, she gave the sink a satisfied smile.

  Did women kill and clean chickens in the west? She supposed they might. They rode horses and shot guns, after all. Matt had been considerate and had done the distasteful work away from the cabin so she did not see or hear. Well, she’d ask Melody. It was not a task she’d ever be able to do. She shivered at the very idea.

  Harmony traversed the passageway to the shed. She’d been here before to fetch the butter or flour, but she’d never taken a careful look. The big side of bacon hung from the ceiling. They should take some of that and one pan. The chicken coop stood silent at the back of the shed. Poor chickens, she thought, but they’d been delicious. She removed the sack of cornmeal and laid it by her feet. Butter, jerky, and crackers traveled well. Matt said they’d be two, maybe three, days on the road. They wouldn’t need much, and whatever they took had to be carried on their backs. She pushed a bag of beans to the side. You had to soak them overnight before cooking, so they’d never do for people on the move.

  When she peered at the back of the shelf, she spotted a cigar box. Harmony pulled it to the edge and flipped the lid open. It contained a Bible and a few photographs. She carried the box into the cabin where there was more light.

  A photograph brown with age lay on top. A young man stood proud and tall with his hand placed possessively on the shoulder of a pretty blonde girl. Braids twined with ribbon wrapped around her head in a coronet. Her dress had a high ruffled collar, and she held a bouquet of flowers in her hands. They both stared, unblinking, at the camera.

  Harmony studied the young man’s face. Well, for land’s sake, that was the brutal mountain man before he became one. He had a gentleness about his face that spoke of hope and love. She couldn’t imagine t
his youth so full of possibility would ever hang a near naked woman from a nail. What had happened to him?

  The next item was a small Bible. Harmony turned it over in her hands before laying it on the table. She opened it to the first page. The paper was fine, nearly transparent. Written across the top of the page was the name Gustav Sorenson. She gasped. After Matt had rescued her, she hadn’t given much thought to the body that lay outside frozen against the wall. She swallowed against a wave of nausea.

  Under the name in the same handwriting it said: May 3, 1875, Gustav Sorenson married Kristin Bjorklund. A second line read: July 14, 1878, Birth of Ingrid Anna Sorenson.

  Harmony glanced into the box. A second photograph lay yellowed with age. In this photo the young couple wore clothes that were worn but clean and mended. A blonde child, a copy of her mother, was cuddled between them. The mountain man, no, Gustav, had his arm draped around his wife.

  She returned to her scrutiny of the Bible. The same hand made the final entry, but the script was shaky and trailed off in spidery script. September 12, 1880, Death from fever, Kristin and Ingrid Sorenson.

  Tears coursed unchecked down her pale cheeks. The man had been mean, brutal, without mercy, but he hadn’t always been that way. He’d married. They’d had a beautiful child. What happened when they were taken from him? Had it led him to this cabin of self-isolation and grim survival? Had grief transformed him from the kind young man in the pictures into the monster she remembered? Her shoulders shook as she sobbed her sadness for a man destroyed by life’s cruel twists and turns.

  Matt entered with the two cleaned, plucked chickens. “Harmony,” he called. His voice filled with surprise and concern. “What is it?”

  “He had a name,” she sputtered.

  “Who? Who had a name?” he asked.

  “The man who captured me. The one dead outside.” Her voice wobbled in her distress.

  Matt took the chickens to the kitchen before joining her at the table. He studied the two photographs and read the few entries on the first page of the Bible.

  “Gustav Sorenson,” he said. “Is that all there was in the box? Any mention of kin?”

  She shook her head.

  “We’ll take this with us and give it to the sheriff in Franklin. He might know more about him. When it thaws, he can send some townspeople to bury him.” He rubbed her shoulders. “We need to report what we know about the train derailment and robbery anyway.”

  He carried her to the big rocker and set her down before covering her with a quilt.

  “Rest, darlin’. I’m going to cook these chickens.” He dropped a light kiss on the side of her face and headed to the cook stove.

  Harmony rocked and listened to the comforting sound of chicken frying. Closing her eyes, she gave Gustav and Kristen some thought. She was certain he’d never imagined he would end up alone and half-crazy high in the Rockies.

  It was a lesson to learn from. A person could get sick no matter where they lived. Fevers swept people away in Chicago the same as anywhere. The important thing was to cling to the ones you loved, shelter them, and treasure every moment of every day. She suspected that was what lay behind Matt’s need to protect her. An occasional red bottom was a small price to pay for his devotion.

  Gustav and Kristen’s story was brief and tragic.

  She hoped for long and loving.

  “Supper, darlin’,” Matt called.

  Harmony joined him at the table. “One plate?” she queried.

  “I thought we’d share.” He sat down and settled her on his knees. “I need to be close to you, darlin’.” The heat of his breath was damp in her hair. She shivered.

  Matt retrieved a bite of cornbread from the plate and held it before her lips. He gave the morsel a gentle shake, and she opened her mouth. They took turns having a bite of chicken, fried potato and cornbread until the plate was empty.

  “More?” he asked.

  “No, thank you.” She leaned against his chest and rested quiet in his arms. “I wish we could stay here forever,” she said.

  “We’ll have mighty fond memories. That’s for sure.” He gave a growling laugh. “I thought we might make some more.”

  Harmony stared into his lust-darkened eyes. “Oh, yes, please.”

  Matt stood so quickly and swooped her to the bed that her head swam in circles. When she landed in the center of the bed, she lay dazed and watched as his clothes flew to the floor. Lord almighty, he was a gorgeous man. She hadn’t noticed before, but there was a line where the top of his pants would be. Above the line he was light brown, but below the line he was lily white, white as a baby’s bottom. He’d worked outside without a shirt. The vision of Matt working in the sun shirtless sent a stab of heat darting between her thighs.

  His clever fingers were making short work of her clothes. Already her blouse was on the floor and her skirt was sliding over her hips.

  “Do you have to wear these?” he asked when he pulled the ribbon free on her bloomers.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.

  “Well, I’d like to think of you being naked under your skirt. I like to think I can sneak up behind you and lift your dress, and you’ll be there. Ready for me. It would give me something to think on when I’m not with you. Your little bottom bare, and I’m the only one who knows.”

  “I don’t suppose they really serve much purpose. I’ll give it a try,” she said.

  The heat of his eyes scorched her body as they traveled up, down, and up again. He fell to the bed and seized a nipple. He sucked, hard, and the pain was intoxicating, thrilling. His other hand pulled roughly at her other nipple. He bit her neck, her earlobe, her shoulder. A ripple of fear and confusion raced down her back. He’d always been gentle, considerate. This Matt was demanding and fierce.

  Matt continued to knead her breast. “We’ve been making love for days, Harmony, so you’re used to me by now. Darlin’, I want you so bad I can hardly keep my wits. I can try to rein myself in and go slow if you want, but I’d like to run free.”

  “Run, Matt,” she whispered. “Run.”

  Well, he was off for the races then. He fell back to her breasts like a man starved. He kissed and bit down her abdomen until he reached her thighs. He pushed them open and dropped his head to her core. He thrust his tongue into her and sucked her nub between his teeth. His hands invaded her channel with strong, probing fingers.

  When he rose from his feast, she took his hand and dragged his fingers into her mouth, licking and biting. She propped herself up on her elbows, leaned up and bit his neck. It was a wild game made for two, and Matt wanted to play.

  His hands seized her hips, and he flipped her to her stomach. “Hands and knees,” he ordered.

  She did as she’d been told, and he spread her farther open with his knees. His fingers entered and withdrew, and Harmony leaned into it. Pressed back seeking more.

  A sharp spank had her arching her back. Matt spanked her bottom to a glowing heat. It wasn’t punishment. She knew the difference. It was desire, raw and primitive.

  He entered her from behind in one deep, strong stroke. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to him as he pushed forward. They set a frantic pace. She’d risen off her knees now the better to push against him, and he met her new angle. Echoes of their jagged breaths filled the cabin.

  Harmony was at the edge. She’d come to recognize the tingling tightness that heralded completion. As she climbed higher, Matt pushed and paused, pushed and paused, filling her with his heat.

  “Holy hell, Harmony.” He covered her with his body before rolling to her side. He draped a long leg over her thighs. “I reckon I’m still alive,” he laughed.

  “That’s fine news, Matt,” Harmony giggled. “I plan to celebrate fifty years with you.” She shuddered. “Poor Gustav,” she said.

  “He got a bum deal. Can’t deny it,” Matt said. “But he made it worse by hiding in the mountains. I feel sorry for him, I do, but he didn’t help himself.” He lifted himself onto a
single elbow. “I want fifty years, too, Harmony. But if something happens to me, you live your life. Don’t crawl off into a hole. Promise me.” His voice was a persistent hiss. “His wife would be mighty sad to see what became of him. He’d become a mean, sad man. She would have wished better for him.”

  Harmony nodded. “I promise, but you have to do the same. If we don’t get our fifty, keep living and loving.”

  “It’s a deal,” he laid his head next to hers on the pillow and closed his eyes.

  “Sleep well,” she whispered.

  He gave her thigh a pat, and she heard his breath come slow and heavy.

  She joined him in his dreams.

  Chapter 12

  Matt wiped the inside of his arm across his forehead. “Mercy, but it’s a warm one today.” He laid his shotgun on the ground. “I’m going to take off my jacket.” He pulled his arms from the big coat and sighed. “Weather in the mountains is a mite unpredictable. We went from the storm of the century to sunshine.”

  “I like the heat,” Harmony replied. “As long as we are out and walking anyway.”

  “You’re right about that,” Matt agreed. “You want to take off your jacket?” he asked.

  When she nodded, he moved behind her and eased her pack to the ground.

  “Let’s have a bite of dinner,” Matt said. He rubbed his stomach in anticipation.

  Harmony’s chuckle was half amused and half amazed. “Are you ever not hungry, Matthew Cullen?” she enquired.

  “I don’t believe so.” He turned her by her shoulders until she faced him. He laid an enthusiastic kiss on her pretty pink lips. “You can call me anything you like – Matt, Matthew, husband, lover, friend. Just don’t call me late for dinner.” He laid a playful pat on his abdomen.

  “I’ll remember that, husband,” Harmony vowed.

  “I have a surprise.” Matt unrolled a large rug and threw it to the ground.

  Harmony’s eyes grew large. “Is that a bear skin?”

  “Yup,” Matt said. “I left those old blankets behind. They weren’t warm enough anyway. I found this rolled up in the corner of the shed. We’ll be plenty warm wrapped up in that rug,” he declared. He offered a hand and helped her down to a seat on the shaggy fur.