A Kiss in the Morning Mist Read online

  “I’ll be in shortly.” Eamon pushed the wheelbarrow after her and dumped the contents in a pile to be spread in Granny’s garden when the rest of the stalls were cleaned. He’d just finished when the back door slammed, and Theo, dressed for the day in her typical uniform of split skirt and white blouse, rushed toward him, her brows drawn together.

  “I have a new filly? And Electra is all right?”

  He watched her come closer and noticed several things at once—her blouse had been buttoned incorrectly; her hair, which she usually wore tied back in a ponytail, had been left free to curl and wave with wild abandon; and there was a glow about her that could not be missed, although that might be just his imagination. All of these things made him smile, and he wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms, but he lost his chance as the back door of the house slammed again and the rest of the family, despite the fact breakfast was ready, trooped outside behind her.

  He turned his attention back to her as Theo approached. “Yes. To both questions. At least, I think they’re all right. The filly is nursing and doesn’t seem to be having any problems doing so. She’s a bit wobbly, but I think that’s normal, isn’t it?” She nodded and he continued, “Electra appears very proud of herself.” He grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushed it back to the stable as Theo fell into step beside him. “Have you chosen a name for her?”

  “Not yet. I won’t know until I see her.” She glanced at him and grinned even as roses bloomed on her cheeks. “Don’t forget to record her birth in the ledger.”

  “I won’t.” He lowered his voice and moved a bit closer to her. “You realize she was born while you and I were making love.”

  The blush on her cheeks spread to her entire face, and her step faltered. “Maybe I should name her Aphrodite.”

  Eamon grinned and followed her into the stable. “Hmmm, very appropriate, I’m thinking.”

  Chapter 13

  Theo accepted one last kiss, then stepped down the porch stairs from Eamon’s room, and ran across the barnyard toward the house, her bare feet noiseless on the grass. She turned once to see him still standing there, his shoulder resting against the support post, the top button of his trousers undone, his bare chest almost ghostly in the pale light before dawn. He blew her a kiss, but otherwise didn’t move from his spot until she slipped into the house.

  Closing the door behind her, Theo leaned against it and closed her eyes, her heart pounding so hard, she though she could break a rib. One of these days, she’d be caught sneaking into the house, but so far, she’d been lucky. She’d come close only once as June melted into July, though she spent nearly every night in Eamon’s room beside the barn.

  What would be the harm of being caught? And why was she still keeping her time with Eamon a secret? Granny would approve. Heck, Granny had given her permission. Sort of. Marianne and Quincy would approve as well. And the children? It was obvious they all adored him.

  There was a certain amount of excitement in the knowledge they could be caught at any time though. And they had taken some chances—moments stolen in the stable, where he had her against the wall, or in the secluded spot where the grass grew so soft and, shielded by a few bushes, he laid her on that soft grass and made love to her, bringing her to breathless ecstasy time after time. Anyone could stumble upon them. Perhaps that was part of the exhilaration and anticipation, though she was careful about the children. She always made sure Gabby, Charlotte, and Thomas were busy elsewhere before she slipped off with Eamon.

  Just thinking about what he did to her—and how quickly she responded to even his slightest touch!—made her sex swell. A flush warmed her chest and spread upward to encompass her face.

  “So that’s the way of it.”

  Theo jumped and squelched the surprised squeak that threatened to wake the entire household as Granny shuffled into the kitchen in her nightgown and light cotton robe, her gait slow and a little unsteady.

  “Granny, you just scared ten years off my life!”

  The woman tsked as she made her way to the stove where the kettle was just beginning to spout steam. “That’s what you get for sneaking in here like a thief at this hour.”

  Was there humor in Granny’s voice? She couldn’t tell. “A thief? I’m doing no such thing.”

  Granny said nothing, just tsked a few more times and raised an eyebrow as Theo’s heartbeat returned to normal. Better to be caught by Granny than one of the children, although why Granny was awake this early was another question, one which was answered much too quickly—she winced as she reached for the jar containing her special tea. The woman was in pain, her knuckles swollen more so than usual. There would be rain before the day was over. Granny’s arthritic joints never lied.

  Theo stepped away from the door and pulled a chair away from the table. “I’ll do that. Come and sit.”

  For once, Granny didn’t argue as she shuffled to the chair and eased herself into it. Twice, she inhaled deeply, as if a certain movement caused her more pain.

  Theo poured water into the teacup over the little ball containing Granny’s special tea concoction and allowed it to steep for a moment or two. As she did so, and to take Granny’s mind off her pain, she asked, “How long have you known?”

  The woman shrugged and said in her matter of fact voice, “Since the beginning.”

  At that, Theo stiffened. Here she thought she’d been so careful only to acknowledge she couldn’t hide anything from the woman who’d known her since she was fifteen. She let out her breath and poured a little cold water into the teacup.

  “I wasn’t quite sure until I saw you and Eamon together. Neither one of you could stop grinning, and you . . . you couldn’t stop blushing every time he looked at you.”

  Theo shook her head. She would have made a terrible spy—all her emotions were on her face and so easily read. “Who else knows?”

  “Quincy, I’m sure. He seems to know everything. And if Quincy knows, then Marianne knows, too. As for anyone else, I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  She brought the teacup to the table and slid it in front of Granny, then took a seat. “What about my guests?”

  Granny wrapped her gnarled fingers about the cup and sighed. “Aside from that woman, I don’t think anyone has paid any attention to you. They’re all more interested in the horses, as well they should be.”

  “And Hart? Do you think—”

  “Does it matter, Theo? In the grand scheme of things?” Granny blew on her tea, took a tentative sip, then another. Her shoulders relaxed a little. She took another sip, this one bigger than the last—the healing power of the herbs wouldn’t take long to work, but in the meantime, the simple act of holding the cup and breathing in the vapors did wonders. Some of the color came back into her face. “Did you ever really consider marrying Hart?”

  Theo studied her fingernails even as she shook her head. She loved Hart dearly, but she just couldn’t imagine engaging him in a passionate kiss, let alone inviting him into her bed. Yes, he was a good friend. He was reliable and patient. He would be able to provide for her, the children, and Granny, but she wanted . . . more than steadfast. If she were to ever marry again, she wanted more than a companion. She wanted passion and love. She’d had that once. It wasn’t so wrong to want it again.

  And why was she even thinking about this? Marriage hadn’t entered her thoughts since she made the decision to invite Eamon to her bed. Well, rather, she invited herself to his bed, but he didn’t exactly turn her away.

  “You’re not upset with me? Or disappointed?”

  Granny laid her hand over hers, her soft flesh hot from holding the teacup. “How could I be?” She smiled, although it took some effort. “You’ve been alone too long, and I know you didn’t make this decision lightly. I’m certain you took everything into consideration.”

  Granny took a deep breath, her gaze steady and straight forward as usual. “He’s a good man. Anyone can see that, but the most important thing is that y
ou’re happy. You are happy, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t have to think before answering. “Yes. I am.”

  “Do you love him?”

  The question brought her up short. She hadn’t thought about it, just as she hadn’t thought about marriage except in the most fleeting way. Not really. Oh, he made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time and the time they spent together was more than wonderful, but did she love him? Like she had loved Henry?

  No, this was different, but was it love? She didn’t know as she’d never quite felt this way. She certainly didn’t know what he felt. Not at all. They talked, but only spoke of tomorrow—never of next week or next month, or even yesterday. After all this time, she still knew nothing about his past, and sometimes the nights she spent in his arms seemed like only a dream when the sun rose. They never spoke about the first time she went to his bed . . . and he never asked. They made no promises to each other, nor did they lie.

  “Well, good morning!” Marianne grabbed the apron from the hook beside the door, slipped it over her head, and tied the strings behind her back as she came into the kitchen. “Nice to see everyone up and about on this fine morning! I trust everyone slept well?”

  Theo faced the much too cheerful woman and stifled a groan. “You know.”

  Eyes glimmering with merriment, Marianne’s smile widened. “Of course I know.” She poked at the coals already in the wood compartment of the stove and added several nice size pieces of oak. After closing the door, she filled the coffeepot with water, poured in the ground coffee, and set it on the range top. Over her shoulder, she said, “I saw the love bite on your neck.”

  This time, Theo couldn’t squelch the groan. “I had a love bite? On my neck?” How could she not have seen that? Worse, how could she not have known?

  The woman nodded as she turned to face her. “I don’t think anyone else saw it. The collar of your blouse covered it up quite nicely, but there was that one moment when you turned your head in a certain way, and well, there it was.”

  “And you’re not upset that I’ve been . . . with Eamon?”

  “Why should I be upset? Why should anyone? It isn’t anyone’s business but yours. I will say this, though, like Granny, I haven’t seen you this happy in a very long time and I think it’s wonderful.” She stood with her hands on her hips, her head tilted just a bit, her eyes aglow with mischief. “So answer Granny’s question. Do you love him?”

  Her brain said one thing—this was just an affair—she wasn’t looking for anything beyond the physical. But she lied. Theo Danforth was not a woman made for a short-term tumble with a handsome man, as much as she might tell herself she could be. Her heart demanded more.

  Despite Eamon’s silence and his propensity for changing the subject when she asked one question too many, she’d witnessed his goodness, his kindness, and a gentleness born to him that he couldn’t deny as much as he wanted to. It was in the way he spoke to the children . . . and the animals on the farm . . . and the way he touched her, revered her almost . . .

  Both Granny and Marianne stared at her, waiting for her answer, and the truth came to her not with thunderbolts and lightning strikes, but rather like the fine mist that hovered over this farm in the mornings—gentle, all encompassing, life-affirming, joyful. She did love him and had from the moment he stood in front of her, hat in hand, afraid to move because she held him at rifle point.

  “Mama Theo!” The sound of Gabby’s voice from the top of the stairs jolted her out of her thoughts. “Come brush my hair!”

  Saved from having to answer any more questions, especially that one, Theo bolted from her seat just as Quincy came into the kitchen, a big grin on his face as his gaze met hers. She didn’t need to see herself in a mirror to know her face flushed—she felt the heat under her skin. She fled upstairs, away from the chuckling of all three but grinned as she stepped onto the landing and saw Gabby in the doorway to her room. The child was dressed for the day in a pair of old trousers that had once been Thomas’s and a calico shirt that had a small tear in it. Her feet were bare and her hair was a mess, but she wore the brightest smile as she threw herself into Theo’s arms and hugged her tight. “Good mornin’, Mama Theo!”

  Theo’s heart swelled within her chest. Was it possible to be this happy and not burst from it?

  • • •

  Eamon sat straight up in bed, his breath seized in his lungs, mouth open in a shout that he refused to let out. Pain blossomed in his chest, above his heart. He laid a hand over the taut skin, feeling the scar that reminded him he still lived while others did not, as if he needed such a physical keepsake.

  Slowly, the nightmare dissipated and the pain receded, but not completely. Never completely. He climbed out of bed. The moonlight streaming through the window fell upon Theo, still asleep among the twisted bedclothes, evidence of their spirited lovemaking. Strange, he hadn’t had this nightmare since Theo first came to his bed and he’d seen the mirror image of himself in her eyes—the reflection of a good man.

  Grateful he hadn’t woken her, he drew the light blanket up to her chin, then tenderly caressed the soft, smooth skin of her cheek with the back of his fingers.

  Her eyes were open, her gaze searching his face.

  Startled, he pulled away. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  She shook her head, her whiskey-colored hair tangled on his pillow, moving with her actions. “It’s all right. I wasn’t really sleeping. Tell me.”

  Eamon stumbled back. “I . . . I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. And you should. Whatever it is, Eamon, you can trust me.” Theo lifted the covers, inviting him back into the warm cocoon.

  Eamon hesitated, but only for a moment, then slipped between the blankets, her heat enveloping him, making him feel as if he could tell her everything, but he still held back. Since the night when she’d come to him and they’d made love the first time, he’d felt things he never thought he would.

  Forgiveness.

  Acceptance.

  Healing.

  After all this time, he was learning to forgive himself for arriving at Whispering Pines too late to save Kieran, Mary, and Matthew and for not going after the Logan Gang weeks earlier when he could have. And it was Theo—and the rest of her family—who’d made him see that even though, aside from Quincy, they didn’t know about the heartbreaking events of that day long ago.

  The family had accepted him as he was, a silent, solitary man, and slowly, through kindness and love, changed him so much, he hardly recognized himself.

  And those changes brought about the biggest one—healing. Through the power of goodness, which was Theo herself, his broken heart was finally mending.

  The nightmare, after an absence of several months, seemed so much more real and shocking. The guilt of that fateful day lingered, a dull throb that reminded him always of what he’d lost, but not nearly so debilitating that he couldn’t participate in a little girl’s tea party or appreciate the beauty and simplicity of life on this farm. Or laugh. It felt good to laugh again.

  And Theo didn’t even know what she had done for him.

  The plain, unvarnished truth was he was scared. Out of his mind. What if he did confess everything, told her about his past, about the loss of family and the part he had played? And what if she pushed him away? Looked at him with revulsion instead of happiness? Or worse?

  It would kill him, mentally and spiritually, changing him back to the solitary, lonely man he used to be. The newfound lightness in his heart would be gone, and once more, stone would fill that space where his heart should be. He couldn’t let that happen. Refused.

  So he kissed her. Instead of talking, which she expected, he rolled to his side, drew her into his arms and took possession of her lips, sliding over them gently, tugging a little at her bottom lip until she opened her mouth for him. Her breathing sped up, and her arms slid around his neck. She pulled him closer, her fingers entangling in his hair as her leg moved over his thigh and held him
captive.

  “Eamon, you really can—” she began when they came up for a breath but never finished her statement as he responded with another kiss, this one gentler than the last.

  “This is not going to work, you know. Kissing me—” Again, her words were cut off as his mouth descended once more and his hand smoothed over her bare hip, along her belly to lightly caress her breast. Her nipple puckered and hardened instantly. He loved how quickly she responded to him. Theo drew in her breath, then released it in a sigh. “It’s working,” she muttered against his mouth as her back arched, pushing her breast into his hand, trying to make him exert more pressure. “Make love to me.”

  He chuckled, then rubbed his whiskered cheek against the side of her neck, making her giggle. The woman had the softest, most sensitive skin—ticklish in so many places that sometimes the gentlest caress could bring her to fits of laughter. He loved that! And enjoyed discovering those places on her body as well as the ones that simply made her sigh with pleasure—like the inside of her wrist. A stroke of his tongue on that sensitive spot made her melt in seconds.

  “That was my intention.” He dipped his head and captured a nipple between his lips, laving the stiff peak with his tongue, then drawing the whole areola into his mouth, alternating his suction between hard and soft. Theo let out a hoarse groan, then threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth closer even as her body arched against his. Her legs opened, releasing the musky scent that was her own, letting him know that she was ready for him.

  He slid his body over hers, even though he had no intention of giving her what she wanted so quickly. He wanted to tease her, touch her all over, and bring her to the brink before he sought comfort in her hot sheath. He trailed kisses down her neck and throat, stopping long enough to encircle first one nipple then the other with his lips, grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin.

  “Eamon!” She stiffened beneath him, then cradled his head against her breast, forcing him to stop, which she sometimes did when the pleasure became too intense for her. “Do you hear that?”