A Kiss in the Morning Mist Read online

  She nodded, unable to speak for a moment as she laid her head on his shoulder, her hand splayed across his chest so she could run her fingers through the light matting of hair. She listened to his heartbeat return to normal, but doubted her own would for a long time. “Are you?”

  “I have never been so all right in my life.” There was humor and wonder and awe in his voice and a rush of warmth flowed through her. He sounded . . . happy. As if he’d found something he’d been missing for a long time. Was it this? Lying in bed in each other’s arms, satisfied from their lovemaking?

  She let out a long sigh as a sense of contentment whispered through her and the heat of his body kept her warm. Her eyes closed and her limbs became heavy as her body relaxed, the tension she’d been carrying around for weeks finally gone. Her finger circled the puckered scar on his chest, curious as to how he had acquired it. “What is this? Were you hurt?”

  She felt him stiffen, his muscles bunching beneath his skin. “Yes. A very long time ago. In another life,” he said as he turned, his mouth lowering to hers once more. She forgot what she had asked as the pleasure of his kiss claimed her.

  • • •

  Eamon opened his eyes as the soft, misty glow of morning crept in through his window. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but would shortly and another day with its accompanying chores would commence, but for right now, he wrapped his arms tighter around Theo, surprised yet grateful that she was still in his bed. She had intended to go back to the main house after they’d made love for the second time, but exhausted and sated, she’d fallen asleep in his arms instead. Some time during the night, they had spooned, her back against his stomach, her soft backside pressed against his shaft, which was beginning to stir. It wouldn’t be long before he was fully erect, more than willing to make love again.

  A slow smile crossed his lips as he pushed her hair away from her face, then held the silky strands to his nose. He inhaled and smelled roses, the scent that had haunted him for months. Her scent.

  He hadn’t lied last night when he said he was afraid. It had been a long time since he had allowed someone to get this close to him. She hadn’t laughed at him for his fears. Indeed, admitting them had seemed to ease hers as well.

  He hated to wake her. She looked so relaxed, her body warm and soft, but she wouldn’t want to be caught stepping out his door when the rest of the household rose. He moved a little, one hand splayed across her belly, pressing her backside closer to his hardening shaft. With the other, he turned her face toward him. A long sigh escaped her. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispered as he nuzzled her ear.

  A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she shook her head. “I don’t want to wake up. What if I open my eyes and this turns out to be a dream . . . just my imagination playing tricks on me?”

  He chuckled and moved his hips a little, so she could feel his hardness. “You’re not dreaming, Theo. Feel me.” The corner of her mouth rose a little higher, but her eyes remained closed. Eamon grinned, determined to play this game with her and win. His hand swept up from her belly to cup her breast, his thumb gently caressing her nipple, which tightened instantly. She inhaled deeply and arched her back, deepening the pressure but pushing against his groin at the same time. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  “No.” There was laughter in her voice, though she didn’t laugh. He kissed the side of her face, then nuzzled the spot on her neck where he could feel her pulse with his lips. His fingertips brushed her hip and she turned in his arms, opening herself to him. He lowered his head and kissed her as his hand smoothed over her belly, then settled between her thighs. Her skin was hot to the touch, and she was wet, so very wet, as he began to caress her.

  A soft moan escaped her, followed by a deep sigh as she opened her legs a little wider, granting him more access. Her hips began to move, keeping up with the rhythm he set. He’d been surprised by the quickness of her response last night, but he shouldn’t have been. Theo had a joy for life, a passion he saw every day. Why wouldn’t it extend to lovemaking? Why wouldn’t that joy be contagious?

  He ravished her mouth, slipping his tongue between her lips even as he slipped a finger into her sheath while his palm continued to stroke her, the pressure light and meant to tease.

  The first wave of pleasure made her moan deep in her throat as her sheath tightened and relaxed around his finger, but still, she kept her eyes closed. Eamon smiled, enjoying this, loving the way her face reflected her emotions, but what he wanted to see most, she denied him. What would it take for her to look at him? He wanted to see what he’d seen last night in the warm glow of the lantern. For a brief moment, when she gazed into his eyes just after pleasure made her body throb, the color of hers went from the new-grass green he loved to something closer to jade and he saw something within their depths. It lasted only a second . . . a brief moment in time . . . but he wanted to see it again.

  What could he do?

  His smile widened and he shifted, pulling his left arm out from beneath her warm body even as he kissed her forehead, her temple, her nose, and finally, her mouth, his hand still between her thighs, but no longer caressing her. Instead, he pushed into the mattress for leverage and slid down the length of her body.

  The bed was too short for what he had in mind so he knelt on the floor beside it. He kissed his way down her leg to her foot, marveling at how dainty and small it was—he’d only ever seen her in boots—then placed her leg over his shoulder. She made not a peep although it did seem like she stopped breathing for a moment. She didn’t try to cover herself, either, as he nuzzled her thighs and inhaled her musky scent, then blew lightly on the curls surrounding her sex. A soft moan met his ears as he gently parted her swollen folds. Dark pink skin glistened and beckoned, and he responded by tasting her, his mouth covering her, his tongue flattening and lapping at her.

  Theo’s hips bucked upward, and he laid a hand on her belly, his fingers splayed across her smooth skin. Her fingernails dug into his scalp as she pulled his head closer, her hips moving nearly as fast as his tongue as it swept across the little nub that was the key to her release. Her breaths came in little pants, and her body tensed, as if waiting. Her thighs quivered as he pushed her over the edge.

  Before she could catch her breath, he rose from his kneeling position on the floor, and plunged into her, hard and deep. Her eyes flew open as she yelled his name, and in that moment, he saw what he wanted to see. In the depths of her eyes, he saw her goodness and a reflection of himself, unburdened by his sins and his guilt, his damaged heart whole once more. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him deeper as he began to rock into her. The ropes supporting the thick mattress creaked beneath them. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The muscles in his arms bunched on either side of her head as his hips ground between her thighs. She let out a triumphant shout as her body pulsed around him, and he quickened his pace, unable to help himself. She felt so damned good, her body hot and tight, and he spilled his seed into her with his own hoarse cry.

  “Good morning.” He kissed the tip of her nose as he slowly slipped from her body and stood. There would be no cuddling, no falling asleep in each other’s arms like they had done last night.

  “Good morning yourself.” Theo grinned as she stretched, her face and chest flushed, then took his hand as he helped her from the bed.

  Despite their lack of sleep, she moved with quick efficiency, washing up, then dressing once more in the pale peignoir. Eamon leaned against the wall near his comfortable chair, trousers in hand, and simply watched her, amazed and overwhelmed by so many things, but the fact that she’d come to him, as frightened as she was, astounded him more than anything else. How could he have been so lucky?

  He moved away from the wall, grabbed her around the waist, and brought her closer, the silk of her nightgown soft and sensuous against his shaft in contrast with the thick trousers sweeping his legs and hers.

  “I have to go,” she whispered even as her mouth sought his.

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p; His lips left hers to move against the soft column of her throat, then the sensitive spot just below her ear. “I know.” Yet, he was reluctant to let her.

  “Eamon, I really have to go. The children. Quincy.” She inhaled and named the last person she would want catching her sneaking into the house. “Granny.”

  “Granny,” he repeated and finally released her. He had no doubt Granny would take one look at Theo and know instantly what she—they—had done. She wouldn’t hesitate to box his ears either or take a switch to him even though he was a full-grown man. He chuckled at the thought as he slipped into his trousers, then gave her one last sweet kiss and opened the door . . . to find Theo’s menagerie—Happy, the cats, and the duck—lined up at his bottom step, waiting for her. How long they’d been there, he couldn’t have guessed, but his heart sank. If anything could give away the fact Theo was trying to slip into the house unseen and unheard after spending the night with him, it would be them. Or rather, it would be Mallory, the boisterous duck whose quack could be heard throughout the farm.

  Eamon eyed the duck and prayed, Don’t quack. Don’t quack. The duck eyed him back and shook his tail feathers.

  “Good morning,” Theo whispered to the audience awaiting her. Tails wagged, ears perked and twitched, except for Mallory. He simply ruffled his feathers again as he switched his focus from Eamon to Theo. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you? And let this be our little secret?” Happy’s tail wagged harder, producing a miniature dust cloud as it swept the dirt. Mama cat padded up the step and onto the porch, then rubbed her body against Theo’s leg. Vincent, the one-eared cat, remained where he was, but his whiskers twitched. And Mallory? He seemed to consider the request, then waddled back to the porch and the blanket-cushioned box that was his bed. Not a quack was heard.

  “Amazing.” Eamon breathed a sigh of relief. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Never mind.”

  She nodded once, smoothed her hand along his face, then dashed across the yard, her bare feet slipping over the dew-kissed grass as she made her way to the back porch, escorted by the dog and cats.

  She gave him a quick look before the back door closed without a sound. Eamon waited for the hue and cry but none came. She hadn’t been caught. At least, he didn’t think she had. There was no startled shriek of surprise. In fact, there was no sound at all and Granny didn’t come racing from the house with a rolling pin or wooden spoon in her hand. Neither did Quincy or Marianne, who were already up and moving about their suite of rooms . . . he saw a silhouette move closer to a window before the drapes were opened. He breathed a sigh and turned to go back inside his quarters, then stopped as shadows moving behind the gypsy wagon caught his attention. He stared at the gaily painted playhouse, then took a step in that direction.

  A moment later, a big black crow came into view, pecking at the ground . . . the early bird catching his worm. Nothing more. Eamon chuckled with relief and went back inside to wash up, brush his teeth, and finish dressing. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d find another moment alone with Theo, but in the meantime, he had work to do.

  Before Theo’s house guests arrived, Eamon had started the mornings with milking the cows along with Quincy, Lou, and Wynn, but since there were more horses residing in the stable now, he started his day there. He slid the big door open and stood for a moment, his gaze taking in everything at a glance. Imitating Theo and her way of greeting these beautiful animals, he said, “Good morning, my lovelies!” and received the same response she did. The horses nickered and neighed. Some of them snorted and huffed, but all of Theo’s horses returned his greeting. He strode down one of the central aisles, unlatching gates as he did so—except Pumpkin’s and the guests’ mares—then opened the door at the opposite end of the stable as well. The horses that lived at Morning Mist knew the routine well and followed him outside. After leading them to their respective paddocks, he took a moment, his gaze taking in everything—the mist hovering above the ground, the barn, the stable, the house. Lou and Wynn, followed by Quincy, headed into the barn, ready to begin the milking. He followed their progress before his eyes moved upward to Theo’s window. If she was standing there, watching him, he couldn’t know. The distance was too great, but he felt her presence as surely as if she stood next to him. A smile spread his lips. He pushed at the brim of his hat and hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets as he headed back for the rest of the horses. As he strolled along the grassy path, he began to hum.

  By the time he reached the stable for the guests’ mares and attached lead lines to their halters, he was singing, his voice echoing in the rafters. If the mares found it offensive, none gave evidence. In fact, they seemed to enjoy it and followed him, the lead lines he had attached to their halters slack.

  He was still singing on his last trip into the stable to get Pumpkin. The stallion was supposed to be in the same enclosure as Delightful Encounter today, according to the list Theo had created and tucked into the ledger she left on a shelf in the tack room, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving him with her until Theo could watch over them. He put Pumpkin in one of the smaller corrals closer to the stable and the pregnant mares to wait until she could be present.

  He turned, ready to begin the loathsome, but necessary, job of mucking the stables, then stopped in midspin.

  Where was Electra?

  She wasn’t with the others mares waiting to foal. His gaze scanned all the horses in their respective enclosures. She wasn’t there either. Could it be that she hadn’t left the stable with the other horses? That was odd because she was usually one of the first ones sprinting to the door. Was she ill? Had she come up lame?

  Heart beating faster than normal, he raced into the stable. “Electra?” The horse responded with a nicker, but remained in the birthing stall, though the gate was open.

  Eamon drew closer to her, looking for any indication she might be stressed or unwell, but she appeared in fine fettle. Her brown eyes were soft but alert, her ears perked, as she watched him approach. “Don’t you want to come outside?”

  She tossed her head and let out another huff, then nudged his hat, almost lifting it off his head. He smoothed his fingers along the side of her face, and she nipped at his wrist with her lips even as she tilted her head and leaned into his hand. She stood still for some time, accepting the attention he bestowed upon her, then shifted to the right and allowed him to enter her stall. His breath whistled between his lips when he saw what she had been hiding behind her.

  “And who do we have here?” he asked, his voice gentle and soothing, as he took a step closer to the foal.

  Sometime during the night while he was making love to Theo, Electra had given birth, and they had missed it. She appeared no worse for wear though. Indeed, she seemed proud of her accomplishment. The foal, a deep sorrel like its mother, looked healthy as it hid behind her back legs, eyes curious as it took a wobbly step toward him.

  Electra huffed and nudged him again, pushing him closer to her baby.

  He took a quick peek to check the sex, oddly pleased by the fact she was a little filly. She butted against his hand, then started sucking at his fingers. Eamon laughed. He’d never seen a newborn foal or one with so much spirit. “Theo’s going to love you. And I’ll bet she has the perfect name picked out for you, too.”

  The filly lost interest in his fingers and nudged at his trousers. “Ah, there’s nothing there for you, little one,” he said as he guided her toward Electra and mother’s milk.

  He watched her nurse for a moment or two, his heart light, then glanced around. What should he do first? Clean the birthing stall? Or head into the house to let Theo know about the new addition? It wouldn’t take long to rake out the old straw and put down fresh.

  Decision made, Eamon set to work as the filly nursed and Electra kept a watchful eye, skillfully nudging her baby out of the way as he maneuvered around them. He hummed as he raked and shoveled, which both mother and daughter seemed to like. Then the hummi
ng became words, and once again, his voice lifted to the rafters with a melody that had always been his favorite.

  Finished with the task at hand, he came out into the aisle with the wheelbarrow full of dirty straw to see Gabby and Charlotte standing in the doorway. Both were looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. Embarrassed that he’d been caught singing, heat rose to his face and he clamped his mouth shut midnote.

  “Were you singing?” Charlotte stared at him, curiosity dancing in her eyes. One of her pigtails was much higher on her head than the other, as if someone, namely Theo, had not been paying attention when she had brushed the child’s hair. That made him want to grin, but he refrained, if only to save Charlotte any embarrassment.

  “Well, yes, I was,” he admitted, then couldn’t resist asking, “Was it that bad? I was always told I sang well. No?”

  “It was nice.” She tilted her head, evening out the pigtails. Eamon made the conscious effort to remain as serious as she. “We just . . . we never heard you sing before.”

  Gabby took a step toward him, rag doll clutched in her arms—this one had red hair and a bandage wrapped around its arm. She squinted just a bit. “Why are you singing?”

  Eamon shrugged. “Electra gave birth to a little filly. She’s really sweet.” He shrugged again and admitted, “I guess I’m happy.” As soon as the words popped out of his mouth, he knew them to be true. It made him pause in awe.

  The little girl heaved in a breath, her face awash in delight. “He ’membered!” She took to her heels and raced toward the house, shouting with every footstep, the rag doll forgotten in the dirt. “He ’membered!”

  “What was that about?”

  Charlotte grinned. “Just something Mama Theo said.” She turned and started heading back to the house at a much slower pace, then stopped and faced him. “I forgot to tell you. Breakfast is ready.”