She felt empowered. Invincible. Valuable. Cherished. They’d been wrong. So wrong.
And then all thought ceased and she gave herself over to the blood rushing through her veins and the tightening of her belly as he picked up his pace. Her legs wrapped around his hips even as they rose to meet him, pulling him in deeper, faster and faster, until nothing mattered but this moment and these feelings.
He groaned, his body moving in hers, and then he stilled, his muscles tightening as he pressed into her, deeper than she thought possible, and she felt the hotness of his seed spill into her as he brought her over the edge with him.
She was stunned. Beyond stunned. She was amazed. And now she understood. What the girls at the house had told her couldn’t possibly compare to the feelings still vibrating within her, nor the closeness she felt to Wyatt, and the gratitude for the gentleness he’d shown her.
He withdrew from her, then rose from the bed. He said nothing, but he did smile as he reached for the bowl and pitcher on the bureau. He poured water into the bowl then dipped a soft cloth into it and began to gently wash her, careful to make sure her nightgown didn’t get wet.
She should have been mortified he was touching her so intimately, but she wasn’t. The coolness of the water was soothing.
“I’m sorry I hurt you. The first time…can be painful.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me, Wyatt.” She reached out to touch his face, smoothing her fingers over hischeek and the whiskers growing there. “It…what we did…was wonderful.”
He laughed softly. “And it will only get better.”
Better? She wasn’t sure she believed him. How could what he’d made her feel possibly get better?
She watched him drop the cloth into the bowl of water on the bureau, then slip into bed beside her, sharing the same blanket, and pulled her close. Sheridan snuggled into the warmth of his body, boneless, weightless, that tickle in her belly gone. For the moment.
She let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes. They flew open immediately, a new feeling raging through her. What she felt at this moment was more than just contentment. She was happy, despite what Odette and Estelle said to her. Living here with Delilah and Royce and especially, Wyatt, had made her see what it was like to be in a loving family.
Am I in love with him?
The question shocked her. How would she know? She’d never been in love before, never knew what it felt like. Still, the answer came as fast as the question. She was in love…with him, with his folks, with life.
It was all exciting, this new feeling rippling through her, but as quickly as the realization came to her, she tamped it down, not knowing if he felt the same.
Surely, he must feel something for her. He’d just shown her in the gentlest way, but was it love?
CHAPTER 15
It was love. Or what she thought love was. She’d never had this feeling before. And she liked it. Perhaps, too much.
She’d spent the entire morning with him, out in the field, roaming from place to place. She’d even seen a calf be born, which was the most extraordinary thing she’d ever seen, and made her think miracles did, indeed, happen. Wyatt asked her opinion, entertained her with the antics he and his brothers had participated in when they were younger, still proving to her that she was worthy of being loved. The tickle in her belly which disappeared last night came back with a vengeance.
And he’d done all of it on purpose, just so she wouldn’t have to see her grandmother or her aunt, especially after what they’d said to her. She knew it and accepted it for what it was. Wyatt was simply being kind, as he’d always been.
She’d been happy for a few hours, though she knew it wouldn’t last. Couldn’t last. The sharp tongues and biting words started the moment she’d come back to the house to help Delilah with luncheon and didn’t abate at all throughout the meal nor afterward, when they all gathered in the parlor.
“Play for us.” Wyatt moved away from the blazing fire and handed her a glass of sherry, perhaps in a bid to settle her nerves. Or maybe, in an attempt to quell her anger, which kept building and building until she thought she would explode. She could swallow the disparagement her family threw at her, but being nasty to Wyatt, Delilah, and Royce was a step too far.
“Yes, play for us.” Delilah encouraged her. “You play beautifully.”
Sheridan didn’t say anything, simply moved to the piano, placed her glass of sherry on the top of it and took her seat. She spread her fingers on the keys and took a deep breath.
The criticism started almost immediately. “Sit up straight, Sheridan.”
She did as she was told, obedient to the order from her elder, but there was something—a spark of defiance building within her. The anger she tried to keep at bay refused to stay put.
Again, she placed her fingers on the keys and pressed lightly, filling the room with a soft melody. She closed her eyes and let the music take her to the place of safety it always brought her to.
“I don’t recognize the song,” Odette sniffed.
How one little sniff could contain so much venom, Sheridan didn’t know, but it was there, as plain as day.
“Neither do I,” Estelle agreed.
