Free Jillian Hart by Lissa's Cowboy Page B

The others feared I couldn't keep the ranch afloat, and left."
    More fabric rustled. He swallowed. The thought of those garments sliding off her body left him breathless. He heard a drawer pull open. Cotton whispered. He wondered if she were naked, her skin gleaming like a pearl in the pale moonlight.
    If he'd had any doubt about his attraction to his new wife, he had his answer now. It didn't matter how much pain racked his body or hammered through his skull. He was rock hard.
    The mattress dipped slightly as she settled in beside him. The bed felt far too small. She was inches away, probably naked beneath her nightgown. That thought only made him harder.
    "Good night, John—-Jack."
    "Sleep well, Lissa."
    The sheets rustled as she rolled away. All fell silent save for his breathing and the clock's steady ticking.
    How was he going to sleep now? He stared at the wall, his every thought of her.

    The minute Lissa opened her eyes against the graying light of morning, she felt his presence, a male heat, the weight of his substantial body in bed beside her. He slept on his back, the sheet puddled around his waist. The thin muslin hugged his lean hips and the length of his thighs, hinted at his nakedness beneath.
    Goodness! She shouldn't be gaping at him. Blushing, she slid out from beneath the covers and snatched her fresh clothes. Leaving Jack to sleep and heal his wounds, she stepped out into the hallway, heading toward the kitchen.
    The mornings were still cool, but not nippy. The first light of dawn met her as she lit the stove. Soon fire crackled to life, and she hurried out of her nightgown. Keeping one ear toward the bedrooms, both doors closed tight, she heated enough water to wash with.
    By the time the rooster quit crowing, the sun was up and she was dressed in her favorite pink gingham and on her way to the barn.
    "Morning, Lissa," Will Callahan called, drawing water from the well.
    "Good morning to you," she sang.
    This was the first morning in a long time that her burdens weren't heavy. She poured grain into Patches' trough. The milk cow lowed in greeting. "Good morning to you too, sweetie." The cow nudged her hand in thanks before rolling her tongue in the tasty oats.
    "Were there any problems last night?" she asked Will when he returned with two five-gallon buckets which sloshed with each step.
    "None that I heard. Or Pete, either." Will hoisted one bucket hip high, ready to fill the cow's bin. "I think your Mr. Murray gave those rustlers a much needed message. They'd better move on to easier pickings, or they'll be sorry."
    "That's all I want," she said. Yet, as she thought of the dead man John—rather, Jack—had shot yesterday, she shivered.
    She hadn't wanted that. She hadn't wanted her desire for justice to end in anyone's death, even a criminal's.
    Will emptied the bucket and moved on to Charlie's stall with the second. The great Clydesdale lifted his velvety nose and affectionately lipped the ranch hand's shirt.
    Troubled, Lissa drew her milking stool into the stall and settled down against the warm cow's flank. Patches gave a low moo of contentment as she crunched on her grain.
    Lissa set the bucket between her feet and caught hold of the cow's udder. Gently, she curled her forefinger and thumb around one teat, then a second. She squeezed downward in rhythm, keeping a steady stream of milk hissing into the bucket.
    The old tomcat let out a meow and hopped up into the hay feeder. Patches watched in fascination as the feline waited for his pan of morning milk.
    The familiar morning routine calmed Lissa, but could not put to rest her growing unease. Jack Murray's hopes for intimacy last night had been unmistakable.
    Her heart stopped. She hadn't thought she would need to deal with that part of marriage—not yet, anyway. In his letters he'd said he wasn't ready to love again, but in time he would like more children. So would she, but Jack was still very much a stranger, despite all he had risked for her.
    She