She placed her napkin beside her plate as she rose from her chair. She walked around the table, coming to stand beside Gavin. She held out her hand to him. He took it and stood. Then, as naturally as if they’d been doing it for a lifetime, she moved into his arms, tipping her head to accept his mouth upon hers. A sweet yearning began in the secret most part of her, a longing to be a part of the man she loved. It seemed that the only way she could convey to him the depths of her feelings was to be joined with him in the most intimate of acts, to share herself—body, soul and spirit. She leaned into him, her hands moving over the smooth fabric of his shirt, feeling the ridge of his spine with her fingertips. She parted her mouth and gently nibbled on his lower lip, then ran her tongue along it. When she opened her eyes and leaned back from him, she found him watching her with a smoky gaze, a look that set her blood on fire. The yearning for him was no longer tender and sweet. It was demanding, unrelenting, a furious storm raging through her limbs and igniting her loins.

“Gavin.” His name came out in a hoarse whisper, conveying the aching need. His fingers began to play with the buttons on the front of her bodice, slipping them free one at a time. When the last one escaped its loop, he pushed the dress from her shoulders. His hands brushed the length of her arms, causing gooseflesh to rise and her breath to quicken.

She saw his gaze move to the swell of her bosom above her corset. She had a decadent urge to be free of the binding garment, to have him gazing upon her bare breasts, to feel his mouth playing with the sensitive flesh. A surge of such terrible wanting hit her that she swayed forward into his arms. He held her, kissed her, pulled the pinnings from her hair and set it free to tumble down her back. And, finally, when she was able to stand freely once again, he continued to disrobe her. Article by article, her clothing fell away, until she stood before him, naked beneath his adoring gaze. For a long time, he didn’t touch her, merely looked. She felt the warmth of the fire upon her skin, felt the heat of her blood in her veins. She reached forward, laying her hand upon his chest, and then she was helping divest him of his shirt and trousers. She was both delighted and horrified by her boldness. When he stood as naked as she—but so gloriously, obviously male—he pulled her once again into his embrace, his mouth claiming hers in renewed hunger. She let her head fall back as her fingers tangled themselves in his black locks. His hands explored her body until the wanting, the need, the desire became paramount to everything else in the world. At that moment, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their marriage bed. She lay nestled in the curve of his shoulder, her long blond curls mingling with the black hair on his chest. Gavin stared down at it, oddly touched by the sight, as if it signified something deep and meaningful. Rachel moaned in her sleep and snuggled closer to him. He supposed he should reach for the blanket and cover her, but he wasn’t ready to quit looking at her just yet. Rachel Blake. His wife. It seemed impossible that she should have chosen to marry him. Moreover, it seemed impossible that it should mean so much to him, that he could want it so very much. Gavin Blake, the man who’d decided long ago to be a loner, a man with no attachments. And here he was with wife, children, ranch, friends, neighbors. He smiled to himself. Perhaps it would make sense to him later. He had other things to think about now. Like the way she looked, lying on her side, her leg thrown over his, her hand lying on the flat of his belly. Like the smell of her honeysuckle cologne, faint, fresh, and wild. Like the paleness of her skin in comparison to his. Like the ripe fullness of her breast pressed against his ribs. Like the way she responded to his kiss, his touch—inexperienced yet eager, hesitant yet somehow brazen. His wife. Her head pulled back from him, her eyes open but glazed with sleep. She smiled languidly, sending a shock of desire shooting through him.

“I fell asleep.” Her voice was husky, amused.

“Not for long,” he responded, drawing her closer to him.


“There was something I meant to tell you.” He felt himself grow hard with passion.

“Later,” he mumbled as he cupped her breast and teased the nipple with his fingers.

“Tell me later.” Exhausted, sated, replete, they lay in a tangle of sheets and blankets, a fine shimmer of sweat glowing on their skin, the night air quickly cooling them as the fire of their union faded. Gavin reached for the mass of blankets and shook them, then yanked the covers over the two naked bodies. His feet were left out in the open, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t the energy or the inclination to get up and straighten the bedding.

“Gavin?”

“Hmmm?” Her voice was filled with awe and wonder.

“Is it like this for everyone?”

“No,” he answered truthfully. She tilted her head. Her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Will it always be this way for us?” His arms tightened around her. He kissed the crown of her head, overwhelmed by the possessiveness that gripped his heart.

“Better, Rachel. I hope it will always get better.” Rachel couldn’t believe it could get better. She’d never imagined the “woman’s duty” she’d heard about in whispers could be anything so wonderful as this. She sighed and closed her eyes, sublime happiness filling her.

“Wasn’t there something you meant to tell me?” he whispered in her ear. His voice was teasing.

“Before I interrupted you.”

“Oh, yes…” She nestled closer as another sigh escaped her lips.

“I love you, Gavin.” She smiled and drifted off to sleep, leaving Gavin to ponder her words in the silence of night.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Rachel stood in the middle of her old bedroom, saying a silent farewell to her childhood. At twenty-two, it had been many years since she’d been considered a child, yet there was a part of her that had always known she could return to the safety within these walls. But now everything was changed. She was a woman. In pledging herself to Gavin, promising to love, honor and obey, she had left childish things behind forever. There was no turning back.

“Feel a little strange?” Rachel turned to face Maggie, standing in the door of her room. She nodded.

“For me too.” Her sister took a few steps forward. She lifted her hand to cup Rachel’s chin.

“You’re happy.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact, tinged with relief.

“Yes.” Rachel smiled.

“I’m happy.” They hugged one another, swaying slowly from side to side.

“It wasn’t so hard seeing you go,” Maggie whispered, “when I knew you were coming back.”

“It’s not far away. We’ll come visit. You’ll come up to the basin in the summer. And we’ll write. We’ll write often.”

“Of course we will.” But each knew that it wouldn’t be so easy. Months would go by, perhaps years, between visits. Life was fragile. Anything could happen. Rachel blinked away the gathering moisture as she pulled back from Maggie’s embrace.

“I love him, Maggie. Thank you for… well, for making me see it.”

“I was afraid you were going to make the same mistake I nearly made. You’re every bit as stubborn as I ever was. You were so young, you couldn’t possibly remember, but I refused Tucker’s proposal many times, even though I loved him. I was determined not to give my life over to a man. I was so afraid of losing my independence. You know what I found, Rachel?” She shook her head.

“Loving someone as I love Tucker is the greatest freedom of all.” Maggie hugged Rachel again, then turned away, flicking at her eyes with her fingertips.

“Be kind to each other. Be patient and giving. Don’t hold grudges and don’t expect the other one to be perfect. Everything else will work out if you just don’t give up on each other.” Rachel blew her nose on her handkerchief.

“What will you do with this room?” she asked to change the subject.

“Well…” Maggie turned once again, this time wearing a slightly sheepish grin.

“I guess we’ll make it Sheridan’s room. He won’t want to be in the nursery… when the new baby arrives.”

“Maggie, you’re not…” She grabbed her sister’s hands.

“Oh, Maggie! That’s wonderful. When?”

“August.” Rachel kissed Maggie’s cheek.

“I’m so happy for you.”

“Say in there,” Tucker said as he entered the bedroom, followed by Gavin.

“We’ve got to get a move on if you’re going to catch the stage.” Rachel released Maggie’s hands only to turn her exuberant attentions on her brother-in-law.

“Maggie just told me about the new baby,” she said as she threw her arms around his neck.

“It’s wonderful news.”

“We had to do something to fill the hole you’ve left in the family. Of course, a new baby can’t take your place, Kitten—just help ease the loneliness a bit.” She felt the sting of tears once again. Tucker was the closest thing she’d ever had to a father, and she loved him dearly. She was going to miss him. She was going to miss them all. As if he sensed her growing melancholy, Gavin stepped forward to place an arm around his wife.

“We really do have to go.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I know.” She took one more quick glance around the room.

“Don’t worry about the rest of your things. We’ll send them to you,” Tucker promised. Gavin eased her toward the door.

“Come on, Rachel.” As painful as the parting was, when she turned to look at her husband, she felt a rush of expectation for the future. She was embarking on a new life. She would be making her own memories with her own family. It was good. It was right. It was time.

“I’m ready,” she replied. Together, they walked from the room. Rachel’s trunks were strapped to the top of the stagecoach. Gavin’s horse was tied at the back. Another series of quick good-byes were said outside the stage depot, and then they were on their way. The stage from Boise had two other passengers besides the Blakes. Joseph Cohen, a grocer, was traveling to Bonanza City to open a shop with his son. Margaret Freedman was on her way to Ketchum to stay with her daughter, who was expecting her first child. Both Mr. Cohen and Mrs.