The Surrogate Wife. Barbara Leigh

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      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 used to rising before anyone else is up. Lily was never one to rise with the sun. It takes me a bit to get myself together.” He paused and gave the matter some thought. “In fact, I’d be more comfortable if you didn’t bother to get up at the first crack of dawn. I’ll go out and start the chores. You can make breakfast, and have it ready when I come in. After that we’ll both start our day.”

      Meagan nodded in agreement. But before she could speak he added, “And you will sleep behind the curtain.”

      

      The blanket that separated them was adequate, and while Meagan was sure that Josh could not see through it to where she slept, Meagan was able to see him outlined against the light of the fire as he pulled his shirt over his head and got ready for bed.

      The night was warm, and Meagan knew that sleeping near the fire must be uncomfortable. But it was his choice. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. It seemed but a few minutes when she was awakened by a sound.

      Through a chink in the curtain she could see Josh moving around the room. He stirred the fire and swung the hob with the kettle on it over the flame. She realized it must be morning and was about to get up when she remembered his instruction. Silently she lay back on the bed, but sleep would not come and she found herself watching Josh as he moved about the room.

      She followed the movement of his body as the light of the flames touched his chest and arms, his rippling muscles, flat belly and smooth skin that looked so warm and delicious in the firelight. She closed her eyes. The very fact that she dared allow such thoughts to exist was dangerous, if not life-threatening in her situation.

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