Her Cold Revenge

Chapter 11

Blinding sunlight woke Grace the next morning. In the haze between sleep and waking, rough-hewn walls emerged in her cloudy vision, and she noticed the faint scent of smoke from a dying fire hanging in the air. She needed to get up and help Ma, but she was reluctant to leave this cocoon of comfort. She snuggled closer to the warm body beside her, the arm encircling her. Arm?  She wasn't sharing the bed with Abby . . .

Of course not. Her sister was —

Grace's throat tightened, and she struggled to push away the conflicting memories. She had to get back to the light, to the bright sunlight of being with Joe. Through the blur of moisture clouding her eyes, the unfamiliar cabin walls and furniture took shape and she shook her head a little, trying to free herself from the shadows of the past.

Beside her, Joe mumbled something in his sleep, and his arm tightened around her. She concentrated on him holding her close. They'd talked late into the night, cuddling by the fire on the sofa, and she had no recollection of drifting off to sleep. What stood out vividly in her mind was the heat of Joe's lips touching hers and her eager response . 

Her cheeks grew warm, and the desire to touch Joe and kiss him again grew overwhelming. Before her last bit of resolve crumbled, she wriggled out of his embrace, but she sat beside him a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest under the quilt. She reached over and smoothed back wayward strands of his shoulder-length hair that had fallen over his face. Joe's lips moved, but he didn't wake. Grace smiled. Back in the Ndeh camp, he had been an early riser, but this morning it seemed as if he could sleep through a buffalo stampede. Emboldened, she reached out and stroked the stubble on his cheeks and chin.

Without opening his eyes, Joe captured her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss into her palm. Then he entwined his fingers with hers and sat up, the quilt sliding from his upper body. Grace swallowed hard and fought to tear her gaze from his tanned, rock-hard chest.

He scrunched his brows. "You all right?"

His tenderness along with the swirling tangle of grief and desire inside triggered her to sudden tears. She turned her head so he couldn't see them, but with a gentle finger Joe turned her face toward him. "Did I upset you?" He brushed away the tears with a feather-light touch.

Grace shook her head. The ache in her chest expanded, constricting her breathing."I-I dreamed I was home again with Ma and Pa and . . ." Her voice came out hoarse and strained.

His eyes filled with compassion, Joe reached for her and drew her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. Grace allowed the tears to fall as he stroked her hair and murmured soothing words. After her tears were spent, the rhythmic thump of Joe's heart and the evenness of his breathing calmed her. She wanted to stay here forever.

But she had a job to do.She pushed away from his chest and sat up straight. Although her throat was still thick with tears, she tried to make her voice steady. "You . . . you should go soon," she said with a sigh. "I need to be alone here in case the thief shows up."

"Right," he said, and she could tell he was trying to hide disappointment. "I'd better be getting out of here then." He pushed himself off the sofa, turned, and strode toward the fireplace, clutching the quilt around him.

"Joe? I'm sorry. I didn't mean —"

"Didn't mean what?" he replied tightly, grabbing his buckskins from the mantelpiece. "Don't worry, Grace. I know how important your job is to you."

"It's just —"

"I understand. It's fine." Joe's tone was a cross between hurt and upset, but he cleared his throat and his gaze seemed to soften a little, the hint of a smile in his eyes. "Uh, fair warning here. I'm going to drop the quilt to put on my pants now."