The Surrogate Wife - Barbara Leigh

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to fend off the fearsome sounds of the night. But it was not to be, for although Meagan found safety in the arms of Josh Daniels’s, his reaction to Meagan was the exact opposite.

      

      The lightning brightened the night and he could see the tears of terror on her face. “What is it?” he asked more gently.

      “The organ…someone’s playing the organ. I heard them.”

      “Nobody ever played that thing except Lily,” Josh said in exasperation. “What you heard was the wind.”

      He wanted to push her away from him. He wanted to separate himself from the vibrant body that molded its lush, young curves against him. He wanted the cool softness as far away as possible before the spark dared to ignite and destroy them both. He could feel her face against his chest. Her hand brushed his taut nipple before her face burrowed into his chest.

      He stroked her hair hoping to comfort her and restore her self-confidence so that he could put her from him and send her back to her room.

      She trembled and he felt her legs wobble. He pressed her more closely against him, taking deep breaths, willing his body not to notice that her breasts had warmed and were burning orbs of fire against his naked chest. His hand slipped down her back, following the curves of her body, tracing them ever so gently but in a way he knew he would never be able to forget.

      How could a man forget the resiliency of her skin, which was even more exciting through the thin, wet material of her cotton nightdress? How could a man forget the touch of her breath against his skin, heated with promise forever unfulfilled?

      She sagged in his arms as her fear began to leave her. He moved to hold her weight and his leg was suddenly encased between the heat of her thighs. His head swam with desire. His blood pounded above the sound of the storm as it raced through his body, erasing the threat of punishment, any hope of reason or memory of decency in the headlong sweep of passion.

      Oh, God, it had been so long since he had burned for a woman, and never, never as he did in this moment, with this woman whose body was like a torch that ignited his whole being. Blood surged through him, blocking out the ability to think. He didn’t want to think. He only wanted to feel. To feel her, to know her, to become part of her and to hear her cry out in her passion for him as she cried out for his comfort against her fears.

      Her fears! If she feared the sounds of the storm, how much more greatly would she fear the gallows tree? And he would bring her to it, to be faced alone by the sick desire of a man for the murderer of his own wife.

      With his last ounce of resolve, and dredging the depths of his soul for hard-held decency, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her from him.

      He looked down into her face, taking in her eyes wet with tears, her cheeks flushed with fear and her lips parted, begging to be kissed. His body throbbed with his need for her. Were it not for the judge’s order, Meagan would be his, now, right here on the dogtrot, and again on the bed, and…

      God in heaven, he was going mad. She was driving him wild. The whole situation was too much to bear, and if he could get his hands on Harvey Osborne he’d tear him limb from limb for imposing such an impossible sentence on a heretofore law-abiding, God-fearing man.

      “I don’t hear anything,” he managed. And the Lord knew that was the truth. The blood was pounding so loudly in his head he couldn’t have heard a full-fledged Indian attack.

      He took a few steps down the dogtrot, dragging the reluctant Meagan with him.

      “Somebody was playing the organ,” Meagan gasped. “I heard it.”

      “You heard the wind in the trees,” he assured her. “Now go on back to bed. We’ll have a long day tomorrow cleaning up after this storm.”

      He shoved her inside the room and closed the door, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible.

      Meagan started toward the bed, but before she reached it she heard the first note begin to swell.

      This time she hit the door full tilt and stood shivering in the middle of the dogtrot. It would do no good to appeal to Josh. It was obvious he wanted as little to do with her as possible. Ignoring the pounding rain, she ran out into the storm.

      

      Josh lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. He shut out the storm and the vision of Meagan’s face as she had looked into his eyes…into his soul.

      He could still feel her flesh against his hands, cool and firm. His body ached to hold her again. He longed to go to her, to ease her childish fears of noises in the night. But he knew he did not dare. He would shut her from his mind, and in the light of day the night’s desires would evaporate like the shadows.

      He forced himself to concentrate on the chores that would need to be done after a storm of this magnitude. There was always damage from the rain. The streams would be up and the trees down. They would have their work cut out for them for some days to come unless he missed his guess.

      He took deep breaths as he mentally listed the tools he would need. His heart had stopped slamming against his chest as some semblance of sanity returned. He welcomed the relief sleep offered and allowed himself to drift on the edge of slumber until a persistent banging caught his attention.

      Irritated, he pulled the pillow around his ears. He did not want to leave his bed again, but the pounding did not cease.

      At first he thought it might be Meagan hammering at the door for admittance, but as awareness became prevalent he realized the sound was too distant. There was a hesitation but just as he relaxed it began again. Something had broken loose and was banging against the house.

      He rolled over and sat on the side of the bed. Josh had to see what had happened and if it could be curbed before it did more damage. He pulled on his breeches and opened the door. The storm still raged, but Josh saw immediately the source of the sound.

      With a curse, he crossed the dogtrot to where the door to Meagan’s room swung back and forth in the wind. It didn’t take him long to make sure that he was correct in his assumption. The room was empty. Meagan was gone.

       Chapter Three

      “From now on you can sleep behind the curtain in the larger bed,” Josh told Meagan the next morning as he sat drinking coffee and resting his head in his hand, his eyes bleary with lack of sleep. “I’ll take the cot out here.”

      He’d searched half the night, believing that she had run away. Expecting with every step he took to find her lying dead in the mud and rain. Blaming himself for not having more control of himself and sending the frightened girl to face her fears alone when she had come to him for help.

      The rain had disappeared with the night, and as the watery sun fought its way through the tops of the trees, Josh had wearily made his way to the barn. The cow had to be milked and the chores done. He’d never tell her how relieved he was when he saw her curled up under a blanket in the hay. He’d never admit that he stood there and just feasted his eyes on her as she slept in exhausted innocence. But he would never allow himself to forget that he had promised the good Lord that if he found her safe he’d never take another chance on being alone with her in a situation that might lead to dishonor and death.

      And so, in the dim light of morning he burned her sleeping image into his mind and his heart, knowing he would never again dare hold her in his arms.

      Even now, in the broad light of day, with the homey sounds and smells of breakfast surrounding them, Josh could hardly bear the pain of denial. He fought to keep his mind on his grits and eggs and off the woman who had prepared them.

      “I don’t mind sleeping in the barn,” she was saying. “Besides, I have to get up early and start breakfast and…”

      He shook his head. “There’s no need,” he told her. “I’m

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