Lauri Robinson - Inheriting a Bride

“Thanks, Ty,” Clay repeated, slipping his hand down to the small of her back as her shivers returned. He nodded toward the trapdoor again, half wondering how the conductor couldn’t sense how deeply afraid she was.

Smiling brightly, the man said, “Some folks get scared on account of all the bridges. They’re loud but they’re safe. Built real solid. Ask Clay, there. He’ll tell you.”

“Bridges?” Her voice was a mere squeak.

“Yeah,” Ty answered. “We gotta cross Clear Creek a few times and—”

“It’s time you got back in the pilothouse, Ty,” Clay said sternly.

With a dip of his hat, the man climbed the ladder and closed the door.

Clay scooted a bit closer, inching his arm all the way around her until his palm cupped the swell of her hip. “There isn’t anything to worry ab out.”

The whistle sounded once more, and with a bout of hissing steam floating past the windows, the train, clanging and banging, pulled away from the station. Clay waited until the chugging grew smooth again before asking, “You haven’t ridden on many trains, have you?”

She shook her head. “This is my first trip anywhere.”

There was more than a hint of loneliness in her tone, and that made the desire to hold her close grow stronger. Clay was a caring man; he understood that. Had to be, with Oscar’s demands and Clarice’s overflowing heart. Yet the immediate attraction and level of desire he felt for this woman was uncanny. His past had left him with very little trust for any woman.

A frown formed as she continued to gaze up at him. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you were in Nevadaville.”

“I’m having a new boiler delivered. I came down on the morning train to look it over.” The tale flowed out easy enough, after all the times he’d repeated it to himself.

A thunderous, echoing rumble signaled the start of one of the bridge crossings, and with a nervous screech Katherine burrowed into his side. “Shh,” he whispered, liking the feel of her next to him probably more than he should. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she answered timidly. “The nothingness below us.”

He grinned and, holding her close, set a knuckle under her chin, intending to pull her face up and assure her the train wasn’t going to derail. Yet when those big brown eyes peered up at him, a completely different thought overtook him.

Kit’s heart landed in the back of her throat and the air in her lungs sat right there, unable to move, just like the rest of her body. She knew they were still on the train—the rumble beneath her said that. But Clay’s hands softly holding her, and his eyes looking at her in a mesmerizing way, seemed to transport her into some kind of dreamland where thinking coherently grew impossible.

He moved then, slightly forward, and his lips brushed over her forehead, as soft as a feather. Yet they sent a hum through her body. A clump of air left her lungs and rattled in the back of her throat as his lips dropped lower, touched her eyelid, which had somehow closed.

His lips brushed her nose next, then her cheeks, and by then her entire body was humming. Instinct told her to move, and she did. She tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his. The connection was unique, and tantalizing.

It happened several times, their lips meeting. Each touch was gentle, unhurried and so tender it drew her full attention. There was excitement in those kisses, too, and they set off a spark inside her, yet even that was soothing in a fascinating way she couldn’t describe. She nestled closer, not wanting the kisses to end, and gladly immersed herself in an absorbing journey that took her to a fantasyland not even books had told her about.

When he lifted his head and tucked hers beneath his chin, she was still floating in that once-upon-a-time place, and unwilling to leave, she snuggled against his broad chest, swaying with the gentle rocking beneath them. Never before could she remember feeling so content and safe, almost as if this was the one place she’d always been searching for.

It wasn’t until the train rolled to a stop that Kit lifted her head, still half-dizzy or dazed in the stardust world she’d entered. Add that to the smile on the handsome face peering down at her and it was almost impossible to remember where she was. Who she was.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked.

“No, it wasn’t bad at all,” she answered, not quite sure what he was referring to.

With a thud, Mr. Reins seemed to drop down from the ceiling, grinning broadly. “There, now, lass,” he said kindly. “I told you not to worry. The bridges are strong.”

The narrow wooden bridges she’d traversed on the way to Black Hawk, crossing never-ending ravines that seemed too deep to host bridge supports, came to mind. She hadn’t noticed one on this trip. Her gaze went to Clay and her mind took to wondering if they had kissed, or if it was some kind of fantasy her fear had conjured up so she wouldn’t have to face the terrifying experience of crossing the bridges again.

“Come on,” Clay said, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.

He led her to the door and gently guided her down a set of metal steps she hadn’t noticed before. Once her feet hit solid ground, her composure returned—somewhat—as did her awareness of her state of affairs.

“I left my luggage in Black Hawk.” She flinched, wondering why that had leaped to the front of her mind.

“Ty,” Clay said, “collect the lady’s luggage, would you? It’s at the hotel.”

Mr. Reins nodded. “Sure thing, boss. I’ll bring it over on the six-thirteen.”

“Thanks,” Clay said, before leading her off the platform. “This way. Let’s get you settled in The Gold Mine. It’s the best hotel on the entire mountain. Mimmie Mae will have some tea she can brew up for you. How’s that sound?”

A cup of hot, fortifying tea sounded downright heavenly, especially considering all the confusing thoughts popping in her head like a sinkful of soap bubbles. While many disappeared as quickly as they formed, a couple stayed, causing her to turn abruptly. “Mr. Reins,” she called, stopping the man from climbing into one of the cargo cars.

“Yes, ma’am?”

She swept her gaze to the little lookout on top of the caboose. “You be careful riding up there.” Thinking about the railroad man gave her mind something to do while thoughts of Clay and how he still held her arm continued to rattle and crash into one another.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.