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The wanting was growing every day inside him. Like he told his father, she was the kind a woman he'd marry, and he'd thought of it, many times in the past few days. More than he should, probably. Would all the hell it would cause be worth having her in his arms, in his bed? Oddly enough, he knew the answer to that question too.
Sometimes he couldn't take his eyes from her. Sometimes he couldn't stop the wanting to kiss her, he could almost feel her lips on his. And the need to explore those lips tempted him every day.
He'd never in his life felt this way before. It was like a bond was growing between them and he couldn’t stop it. Didn't want to stop it. And yet, he knew it'd be wise to not go there.
He'd never worried over what people thought before. Having a real relationship with a woman was foreign to him. And yet deep down, he knew this was it. She was the one for him. She fit his life, she fit here, on their place. Hell, she belonged here with them.
Admitting that now, shocked him.
He wanted her in his life, in his bed, in his future. He wanted Elan too. He wanted to make a family, and he knew his dad wanted that for him too.
Willa brought joy back into his home and both he and his father knew that.
So, what was he doing here in town?
Understanding his own needs, his wants, his desires, he faced them like a man. What stopped him was the trouble it would cause. He needed some reassurance from her that she was willing to fight any and everyone for their love.
Love, that was it. He was in love. He didn't know how it happened, or exactly when. But it was there. And his heart did not doubt it. It was his thinking that kept him from moving toward what he really wanted now.
He shook his head and smiled.
It was so simple, he'd waited a lifetime for her, and here she was.
He glanced around town and then decided to have a beer then he'd go back hom
e and try to keep his hands-off Willa, if he could.
How did one stop themselves from falling in love? How long could he keep pushing her away when what he wanted was to kiss her sweet lips, caress her and take her to his bed to claim her. She was his, he knew that. So far, the words hadn't come, but he knew that was only a matter of time too.
What a powerful feeling it was to admit love.
From his cold greeting here in town, he supposed they'd all heard about Willa and the baby. Well, he knew he'd face some scorn for it. He knew how most of this town would feel about her. They'd fought Indians most of their lives, and he understood that feeling. He'd had some of the same feelings toward them himself. But it had been five years since an Indian uprising, and the peace that everyone felt still wasn't enough to rid itself of the hate it produced too.
What if he told the town Elan was his? Could they come to accept it easier if he lied? Willa wouldn't like it, but it might make it all easier in the long run.
But how could he stop the growing affection that he was sure was mutual between them. He could see it in her eyes, in her expressions that she had considered him too.
Could they somehow make it work between them or was this some kind of off the wall attraction?
Was it lust, or love?
No, he knew lust. Lust was like the feeling he got when he came to town to have one of the saloon girls. Love was entirely different. He felt protective of Willa. He felt admiration for her as a woman. And what a woman she was.
His loins tightened as he thought of her. He wanted her, he knew that, but would a marriage work between them? The odds were against them. Yet fur trappers married Indian women, and no one got upset. What was so different in this situation? Would it be heaven to wake up in the morning beside her, and kiss her luscious lips? Would he die to make her his? Could he take the step that would bring her to him? He was sure it wouldn’t take much.
He knew the answer to those questions now. Admitting his love for her, answered all his questions.
He went into the saloon and ordered a beer. Charlotte, one of the saloon girls ambled up to him. He could smell her perfume from a long ways. She was a pretty little thing, but he wasn't in love with her. He'd had her a time or two, but even though she knew a lot about making love, he knew it wasn't love. It was sensual pleasures. It was lust. She eyed him as he drank his beer. She stared at him.
"Charlotte, good to see you." Clay tipped his hat.
"Is it?" she asked tightly.
So, she'd heard the news too. How could a saloon girl be so judgmental? They always wanted sympathy from him before.
He'd been up the stairs a few times with Charlotte, she was one of the younger girls and very pretty with her soft blonde hair and big blue eyes. Still, somehow today he saw her in a different light. She was a saloon girl, not the kind of woman he could ever settle down with. Not the kind of woman he could depend on either. He was just another cowboy, and he knew that. He was under no illusion as to their relationship.
He ordered another beer. She leaned on the bar close like. "I never figured you for an Indian lover." She whispered.
