Three Wishes for Christmas by Emma McKee

Author:Emma McKee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, christmas, western, historical
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2012-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The stout fir was half-decorated in the corner of the sitting room, and dinner was over, Brenna gathered the dishes and carried them to the kitchen. The amount of washing-up seemed pitifully small compared to the mountain she normally faced. The mountain she wished for tonight.

“Brenna?” Micah’s tone was cautious as he peeked around the door.

Hot tears flooded her eyes, and a knot in her throat cut off speech. She swallowed hard and forced out, “Yes?”

“Are you all right?” He stepped into the room, but wisely, held his distance. “You’re acting a little—well, not yourself.”

“Go home, Micah. I’ll come to you later.” She hoped he could not see the reflection of her face, but she could see his. Perplexed. Concerned. Frightened? She supposed he had a right to be. He was right, she wasn’t acting like herself. Or maybe she was. Finally.

He stood, waiting.

“Please, Micah. Go home. I’ll come to you as soon as Martha is settled.”

She watched him turn and retreat through the door. A wave of need hit her. She needed him. Without him, her life would be more of a half-life than it was now. She couldn’t just go, pour out her deceit and walk away. Not when she loved him so. And who knew, maybe he’d understand what she was about to offer him was the only gift she could give before she left.

****

Micah sat behind the desk in the empty jailhouse, waiting. The dread he’d fought all through the evening meal threatened to overwhelm him in the silence. Except when she brought food from the hotel when they had prisoners, Brenna didn’t come here. And yet, tonight, she said she’d come to him.

The wall clock chimed eight, and the door opened. Brenna entered, and wordlessly, fastened the shutters tight against the outside world. She deliberately locked the door, walked past him to the other entry at the rear of the small building, and locked that, too.

Her face had the haunted, pinched look she’d worn all through dinner; those whiskey-colored eyes ringed by dark shadows that hadn’t been there just hours before.

“Brenna—”

She quieted him with a touch of her finger to his lips. Then her mouth took his. Not in one of the chaste pecks that they’d exchanged before, but deeply, with a desperate, ravaging hunger. In spite of his shock, his body leapt to attention, his hard length straining to escape the constraints of his clothing.

“Brenna—” he tried to protest. She couldn’t possibly want this, couldn’t truly know what she was doing.

“Shhh…” Her mouth crushed down over his again.

He heard the rustle of fabric then she was on his lap, straddling his lap, pushing herself against him. He groaned, grasping her shoulders and gently pushing her away.

“Brenna, you don’t know—”

“I do know.” Her gaze locked on his, and he was only vaguely aware of her hands slowly working the buttons of her shirtwaist, then the quick movement that stripped it off.

He read determination in her eyes. Something else, something raw he’d never seen.

“I do

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