A Promise of Thunder

nearly as cozily, containing only functional pieces of furniture that served their purpose and little else.
    Inviting Grady Stryker inside her house was the last thing she wanted to do, Storm thought as she heard herself asking him to come inside and warm himself. She hadn’t needed to use the new fireplace yet, for the stove provided sufficient heat for the cool, sunny days of fall. Grady sat down at the table while she poured him a cup of coffee.
    “Have you seen your friend Turner recently?” Grady asked.
    “No, should I have?”
    “He’s a speculator. He wants land and seems determined to have yours. Since you’re alone out here with no husband and virtually no protection, he feels quite certain you’ll sell out to him if he waits long enough.”
    “He’s wrong,” Storm insisted with quiet determination.
    “It’s going to be a long winter, Storm. Have you cut wood for the fireplace yet? There are dozens of things that must be done to prepare for those days when you won’t be able to leave your cabin.”
    “I—no, I haven’t gotten around to cutting wood yet. I suppose I shall have to one day soon.”
    “There’s no need,” Grady said gruffly. “I’ve done it for you. It’s the least I could do for—for everything that’s happened. If you loan me your wagon, I’ll load it up and bring the wood to you tomorrow.”
    “You’ve cut wood for me?” Storm asked, startled. “There was no need, I—”
    “Your land has few trees, while they grow abundantly on mine. I’d do the same for any neighbor. Besides, I’m accustomed to hard labor while you—well, let’s just say there are other tasks you’re better suited for.” The intense look in his blue eyes left small doubt in Storm’s mind to what he was referring.
    Hanging on the frayed threads of restraint, Storm smiled obliquely and said, “And I can’t think of one thing you’re suited for besides hard work. From the size of those biceps I’d say you have more muscle than brains.”
    Storm seethed as his insufferable laughter filled the cabin. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
    Storm groaned in frustration. She’d never met a more exasperating man. How in the world did his wife ever deal with him?
    “If you’re finished with your coffee there arechores I must do outside. Thank you for cutting wood for me. You may use the wagon whenever you like. I must confess, though, I would never have taken you for a thoughtful man.”
    Setting the cup down, Grady uncoiled his lean length from the chair. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Storm Kennedy.” His voice was low and strident, sending chills down her spine. “But one day you’ll find out.”
    He turned abruptly and strode out the door, leaving Storm standing with her mouth open, ready to fling back a tart retort but unable to form the words. All she could do was stare at his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the smooth tautness of his buttocks encased in tight twill pants.
    Though Storm tried to keep her mind occupied with work, Grady’s face kept appearing out of nowhere to haunt her. She couldn’t deny that he was appealing. His features were handsomely sculpted. His skin was bronzed from the sun, and his black hair, though a bit too long for her liking, contrasted vividly with his striking blue eyes. And his mouth … boldly chiseled lips, wide but gracefully arched, generously curved, indolent … tempting. Goodness, just thinking about the man gave her goosebumps. But what really set her to trembling was his sultry gaze. She couldn’t ever recall Buddy looking at her in quite the same way.
    That evening Storm prepared herself a lonelymeal, wondering if she should have invited Grady to share it with her. Or perhaps she should invite Nat Turner out one night to sup with her. Though she’d never admit it to Grady, the life she led was indeed a lonely one. The last time she was in town she’d heard there was to be a big dance next Saturday night; perhaps she should go. She quickly discarded that notion, aware that widows didn’t attend dances and such doings during their time of mourning.
    The mourning period seemed interminable, she thought bleakly. She and Buddy had been so young, no thought was ever given to the possibility that one of them might die any time soon. She knew Buddy wouldn’t want her to grieve a long time, that he’d want her to be happy and enjoy life. Yet no matter how lonely Storm was, she knew that her land was her salvation, that come