Page 53 of Mail-Order Lady

His lips brushed hers. Solid contact, yet still only a brush.

Warmth spread through her entire body like a coal pressed to dry tinder.

He pulled back a little, but it felt like he was fighting against himself. Restraining himself like a stallion in a tight tether. He was even breathing hard with the effort, his chest heaving as if he needed all the air he could get for the fight. His hands gripped her waist like iron. Like he wouldn’t pull tighter, but couldn’t let her go either.

He needed this. He needed to feel something other than fear and uncertainty and the weight of everything pressing down on him.

She pulled him to her.

His restraint broke like a rope sliced through. He lowered his mouth again, and this time was no light brushing. He pulled her in, his arms wrapping around her completely.

Nothing about his touch was violent. Only complete.

One of his hands slid up to cup the back of her head, cradling it with a gentleness so at odds with the urgency of his mouth that it made her chest crack open.

She had never been kissed before. Not at all. And definitely…not like this.

She could only breathe him in. She should kiss him back, kiss him the way he kissed her. Yet he’d stolen her feet from beneath her, swept her away so she could do nothing but cling to him and breathe in every beat. Every touch.

The way he kissed down her jaw. To her ear. Gooseflesh raced through her, and she gripped tighter to his shoulder with one hand, then let the other creep up the back of his neck. His hair…she’d never imagine it so soft.

“Clara.” He breathed her name as his mouth moved back down her jaw.

“Yes?” How could he think clearly enough to talk when he was kissing her like this?

He found her mouth again, but this time, he gave a final aching brush before he pulled back.

He was still breathing hard, but this was the slow rise and fall of a man content. Or at least, not on the edge of control.

For her own part, she could scarcely draw in air. Wanted more than anything to pull him back in for more of that overwhelming…connection.

As he took her in, a furrow formed between his brows. That worry seeping back in. Yet this time it seemed focused more on her.

“Are you…?” He hesitated. “I’m sorry if I pushed… If I made you…”

She could only laugh, a sound that came too loud and breathy between them. Both her hands had moved back to his shoulders, and she didn’t let go. Honestly, her legs might not hold her yet.

But she shook her head. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t…” How could she explain that she’d had no idea she’d wanted that kiss? But now…

She tried again. “I didn’t know…” Her mind couldn’t form a coherent thought with him looking at her like that. So she settled for the one sentence that would come. “I’m glad you kissed me. Very glad.”

His face softened. Those dark eyes warmed. This was Robert. Her Robert.

She fingered the hair at the nape of his neck. He needed to go, but she couldn’t bring herself to release him.

He must feel the same way, for he kept his arms around her. Held her close. His thumb stroked along her back. Those dark eyes drank her in, and she let him see.

At last, he pulled her closer into a full hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and took in a long, deep breath of him. That special scent that was only Robert’s.

As he rubbed her back, she released the air in a steady stream. Let all her fears and worries slide out too. Her mother’s threat. Kate’s sickness. The stranger in the yard. Nothing mattered when Robert wrapped her in this strength. This complete…love.

Love? It had to be. How could she feel so utterly cherished if this wasn’t love he’d wrapped around her?

Did she love him too? She’d have to sort through that later. All of this was so new. Yet…maybe not new for Robert.

The thought nearly made her straighten. Had he already fallen for her before today? Maybe already loved her? And been hiding it? Images flashed in…that look after she put her hand on his in the wagon.

But others too. The certainty in his gaze—almost tenderness—when they exchanged vows. The flash in his expression sometimes when he helped her down from the wagon. The way he’d sat at her bedside and read to her for weeks while she’d been sick. There were times, especially near the end of her sickness, when she’d been more coherent, when he would stop reading and sit quietly. She’d let her eyes crack open and see him watching her. The softness in his gaze had always eased something inside her. Just like his hug did now.