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“Aw, Pa.”
Thad silenced him with a look. “Hush up and eat.”
The boy gobbled down everything except the dumpling, then scrunched up his face and spooned a tiny bite into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyes widening.
“Feels kinda mushy, but tastes good.”
Thad polished off two bowls of stew, but Leah could eat only a single bite before she laid her spoon on the plate and stretched her back.
“Go on to bed, Leah. I’ll—” He checked himself as he noted his son’s crestfallen look. “Teddy and I can wash up and then I’ll get the liniment from the barn.”
She struggled to her feet and shuffled across the floor to the bedroom. Shaking with fatigue, she shed her tunic and trousers, then donned her silk sleeping robe. The skin on her backside burned as if seared with a hot iron, and the slightest touch was agony. She folded back the quilt, the wool blankets and the top sheet, then very carefully crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees.
She had been foolish. To earn the admiration of her husband, she had overridden her good sense and her instinct for selfpreservation. Her mother would have called her a goose!
It wasn’t admiration she needed from Thad, it was acceptance, and she had that. She had had his acceptance from the beginning. What more did she want?
More than acceptance, she admitted. She wanted him to look at her the way he looked at his son when no one was watching. With a half sob she sank down onto her side and closed her eyes.
Thad stepped quietly through the bedroom door with a square bottle of brown liquid in his hand. “This oughta fix you up. Roll over on your belly.”
She gave an involuntary gasp and opened her mouth to protest, but every inch of her body ached. Without a word, she did as he directed, shifting onto her stomach with a groan. The muscles of her abdomen contracted in bands of discomfort; she must have strained them, as well.
Thad edged onto the bed beside her. “Now, then.” His warm fingers hesitantly skimmed the knee-length, pink silk robe up to her waist and she froze. She didn’t want him to see her naked. She must look awful, all scratched and swollen.
“Honey, you’ve got bruises like I’ve never seen before. Must hurt like hell.”
Curiosity battled with her modesty. “What does it look like?”
There was a long, long pause, during which she heard his breathing catch and roughen. At last he began to slosh the brown bottle up and down. “Looks like a war zone. You’ve got great big patches that are turning purple and black, and some that are green around the edges.”
Leah cringed in embarrassment.
“And some yellow splotches,” he added. “And some red, raw places, too. I’m surprised you can walk.”
She stifled a cry. “I can’t really. To cook supper I dragged a chair halfway between the stove and the pantry and sat down on it a lot to rest.”
His low chuckle made her catch her breath. “You’re one brave lass, Leah. Hold still, now.”
He uncorked the bottle and she knew he was dribbling some liniment into his palm. Then she felt his broad, warm hand rest on the small of her back and slowly begin to move. She sucked in air.
“Hurt?”
Oh, yes. It felt like fire to be touched. But gradually the skin under his fingers began to grow warm, and a penetrating heat bloomed. Waves of comforting warmth washed up her spine. Thad moved his hand lower, toward the curve of her hips.
“Feel good?” he muttered. Dammit, his voice was hoarse. Sure felt good to him. Just touching her smooth skin made his heart beat like the hooves of wild horses on the run.
“Yes,” she murmured against the sheet. “That feels wonderful. Do some more.”
He bit back a chortle. She liked it, did she? Well, God save him, he liked it, too. He liked it very, very much.
Too much.
Hell, what was happening to him?
Dammit, he knew what was happening. His groin swelled into an insistent ache. He wanted her. He’d reasoned it all out the night before—how it wasn’t the right time yet—but, darn it, he was still a man, and he wanted her.
He swallowed again and kept moving his hand around in lazy circles on her body.
Leah began to make soft little moans, whether of pleasure or pain he couldn’t tell. Tentatively, he pushed the pink silk higher, exposing more of her backbone, and waited for an objection. Nothing came out of her mouth but more gentle little sighs.
He poured more liniment into his palm and smoothed it up and down her spine, moving slowly from the little nub of her tailbone to her hairline at the back of her neck. He sure hoped this was doing her some good; it was stirring up nothing but trouble for him.
“Leah?”
“Hmmm?”
