Silver Heart (Historical Western Romance) (Longren Family series #1) by Amelia Rose Read Free Book Online Page A

existed.  Not heat or desert or silver ore or gun fights, not Matthew on the davenport or the howl of coyotes coming through the clear air of night.
                  "I should show you to your room," he said, and stood at once, knocking his chair back as if something had suddenly made him anxious.  He held out a hand to me.
                  I took his hand.  Mine was damp and I wanted to laugh at that, but my fingers trembled and my legs were very tired.  He stopped at the edge of the kitchen to light a lantern from the oil lamps and then I let him lead me through the kitchen door and down an ill-lit hall, where shadows flickered. 
                  He'd put my trunk in the room he'd prepared for me, the room some neighbor had probably scrubbed and oiled and waxed until it gleamed in the lantern light.  He lit the lamps there for me, and stepped back so I could enter. 
                  A four poster bed heaped with pillows.  Light curtains hung in the windows but in the uncertain light, they no longer seemed a cheerful yellow.  There was a sampler above the bed, something embroidered I didn't take the time to read, and a pitcher and bowl upon the dresser. 
                  I turned to thank him and found him standing close.  I did not step back.  My breath caught.
                  "Take tonight," he said, and I thought he meant something quite different until he added, "If, tomorrow, you're still of a mind to stay, we shall marry."
                  I'm already sure , I thought, and pushed away the stray thoughts of other blue eyes and dark curls. 
                  Hutch reached to give me the lantern and our hands touched, fumbled at each other, and then the lantern had been put down on the floor and his hand was over mine. 
                  My skin caught fire.  My hand burned like I held on to nettles.  I didn't think, only turned my hand upright within his so our palms touched.  His breath came faster.  My free hand fumbled, found its way to his chest.  Under the coarse work shirt, I could feel hard muscle and the pounding of his heart.
                  He slid his other arm around my waist and pulled me to him.  Our hands still held to each other, burning hotly.  My mouth opened.  I looked up slowly, met his gaze, and couldn't look away.  He searched my eyes, looking for an answer.  I didn't look away, didn't close my eyes, until he moved, so slightly, then lowered his head toward mine.
                  My chin tipped up.  My mouth met his.  My eyes closed and the tension inside me all at once let go so I could sink against him, and at the same time, coiled up so that inside, I felt like a storm about to break.
                  His lips were chapped, roughened by the heat and dry of the desert.  His hands were hot, burning against my skin.  Our hearts pounded together. 
                  He didn't stop. I'd been kissed, a time or two, polite goodnights from Boston boys, who would call again but eventually faded away. 
                  This was nothing like that.  Hutch Longren was older, taller, stronger, and bigger, pressed against me with heat and the scent of the sage and the dust of this place.  His mouth moved over mine, his teeth found my bottom lip, his tongue darted out to taste my lips.  Where before I had been kissed, on this night in this strange new place, I kissed in return.  I tasted him, the coffee he'd drank, the sweetness of sugar he'd added to the last cup.  His heat was like the desert night. 
                  There was nothing to stop us.  We would be wed soon.  Fear crept up.  I'd never anticipated this.  Never joined in the talk of friends.  I felt young and foolish and at the same time, too old for such feelings and afraid he'd find me naive.
                  I was afraid he wouldn't stop