Beverly Jenkins (17 page)

Cara rippled in response to being bare to him. The first touch set off such a joyful response, her senses began to spin and feed on the whirlpool that spread from his splendidly wicked hands to her shuddering core.

When he withdrew his hand, Cara groaned in protest. He smiled with hot eyes and kissed her. “Such an eager little Cara Lee . . .” he whispered, then wordlessly removed her shirt and helped her out of the camisole. “Now . . . put your shirt back on. Don’t want you to catch a chill . . .”

Once she’d done that, he had her lie with him
on the tarp so he could slide kisses slowly down the golden plane of her body. He pushed at the open halves of her shirt, lingering over the beauty or her breasts until they were hard and pleading. His mustached lips brushed over the flatness of her belly beneath her rucked-up skirt, and his tongue set fire to the recessed nook of her navel. When his lips brushed the swollen place between her open legs, a cry broke from her and filled the silence. “No . . .” she protested, trying to back away, but his large, gentle hand on her small waist kept her there.

“Hold still, darlin’ . . .” he whispered hotly.

A soft lick made her stiffen in both disbelief and delight. Everything melted into fire. Boldly, yet gently, his fingers parted the blackberry forest, giving him intimate access to the hidden shrine within. As he enjoyed her, Cara’s hips rose shamelessly for more. Never in her life had she thought such pleasure possible. He tasted, nibbled. Her head upon the tarp moved back and forth like that of a person insane. Release shattered her almost instantaneously. Her shout of elation pierced the quiet.

“Next time you’ll have more stamina,” he promised, leaning down to give her one more scalding lick, and Cara buckled with a strangled scream.

Chase was harder than he’d ever been in his life. His raging manhood demanded release, and as he eased her back to herself with soft kisses on her lips and butterfly touches between her honey-filled thighs, he had to exert a lot of control not to continue. All he could think about was settling himself between her soft thighs and taking her until she climaxed calling his name. However, he’d vowed not to compromise her and he would not.

A totally dazed Cara sat up. The warm amusement
she met in his gaze made her smile shyly and turn away; she had enjoyed herself entirely too much under this man’s spell and he knew it. “I take it all back, Sergeant,” she said. “You are
very
talented.”

The mustache curled over his smile. “You’re welcome . . .”

Cara rose to her knees and kissed him. “Are we going to continue now?” she asked, nibbling on his bottom lip, running her hand over his chest.

“No, we are not,” he responded, drawing on her lips. “Now stop, before I explode . . .”

“Chase . . .” she coaxed against his ear.

“No . . . Close your shirt . . .”

But before she could, he bent to her breasts and his warm mouth pleasured them until they were begging, damp and hard once again. He then raised his head, pulled the halves of her shirt closed, and began buttoning her up.

“But what about your pleasure?” Cara asked, keeping still while he completed the task. When he didn’t speak, she peered at him. “Chase?”

“Cara Lee . . . my pleasure’s fine,” he lied. “Now do me a favor, darlin’ . . . go sit over there a moment.” To allay the concern in her face he gave her one more kiss. “Go on . . . or we’ll never get back.”

Cara complied but with great reluctance. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, schoolmarm, just need to . . . catch my breath.”

Cara didn’t believe him for a minute. He’d been as aroused as she, yet he’d gotten no release. Even someone with her limited experience knew love-making involved a joining. “Chase—”

“Pack up the basket, please, and no more talk about this.” He wondered how it would feel to spend the night in a dugout. He’d be finding out
if he couldn’t bring his desire under control; right now he was still so hard he couldn’t walk, let alone climb the stairs to the surface.

“You know something, Sergeant?” Cara said, placing the dishes and napkins back in the basket. She then retrieved her underwear. “You are too damn noble for your own good. Has it ever occurred to you that I might have wanted you to continue?” There, she’d said it.

He sat with his back to her so she did not see him smile as he replied, “You know something, schoolmarm? You wouldn’t last a minute in the army because you don’t take orders worth a damn.”

“I’ll accept that as a compliment,” she said, pulling her drawers back on, trying to decide if she was mad or not. She decided she wasn’t because deep down inside she loved this man. The fact that he continued to treat her with such unfailing respect made the love stronger, even if she found it frustrating.

As it turned out, Chase did not have to experience a night in a dugout. Cara kept quiet long enough to let the memories of his arousal fade to a dull roar, and they left. Outside, he gingerly climbed into the buggy, thankful for the first time in his life not to be on horseback. He sat back, eyes closed, as she guided the team to town.

“Chase, I wish you would let me help you.”

“Cara Lee, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But I do. You look like you’re in pain.”

“Darlin’, you’re just making it worse.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. Cara kept her mouth closed for the duration of the trip.

In bed that night, aching and hard, Chase told himself he’d done the noble and honorable thing
by denying himself that which he wanted most. However, his body disagreed. Every time he thought of Cara half-naked and twisting under his pleasuring, the ruckus started up again. She had him so in knots he’d actually thought of seeking out Virginia, a thought that indicated just how desperate the situation had become. He’d banished the plan just as quickly, however, because no other woman would do. He wanted Cara.

If he could hold out for only one more day, he could leave the schoolteacher just as he’d found her, intact. But he also knew that if the situation presented itself, he would not be so noble again; he would take her with all the tenderness and vigor he possessed.

A
s Cara drifted off to sleep, her final thoughts were of Chase. When she awakened Saturday morning, her mind picked up the same thread. Who would have thought she’d fall in love with a Union soldier? She corrected herself: He’d ceased being defined so simply for quite some time now. It was as if he’d been sent to counter the tragedy and death of her grandfather. In her nightmares the demons wore Union uniforms. In this new reality a flesh and blood man was in that uniform. And he was a fine man who had his own demons from the past; a man who’d taught her passion; more importantly, a man who cared.

And she cared for him in return. She knew a good portion of his interest in her lay in the physical realm, and last night had been a vivid demonstration. But tomorrow morning he’d ride out of her life, never knowing he’d be carrying a piece of her heart.

Cara got up. She had cleaning to do at the school. She hoped the chores would give her something else to think about.

They didn’t.

She thought about Chase with every swipe of her mop and every rub of polish on the desks. She thought about him as she washed the windows
and as she cleaned out the storm cellar and recloseted the supplies. To keep from going back to Sophie’s and possibly running into him, she inventoried the school’s supplies, made lists of items she needed to order and those she’d have to beg for in letters to the aid societies back East. Lesson plans came next, six weeks’ worth.

As the afternoon waned, she spent the early evening hours catching up on her correspondence and penning a letter to her friend William Boyd. When night fell, she could find nothing else to detain her. Her stomach was also reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she doused the lanterns and left the school.

Back at the boardinghouse, she got a plate of food from Dulcie and took it up to her room. Cara thought the ideal situation would be to avoid Chase until he left. By doing so, she hoped to lessen her heartbreak.

After her meal she sought out Sophie for permission to use the big claw-footed tub in the rooms Sophie shared with Asa. Cara usually took her baths in her own room, but every now and then she needed the luxury Sophie’s big tub provided, and tonight was one of those times. Sophie was more than agreeable, telling Cara to help herself, so she did.

When Cara returned to her room after the bath she felt like a new woman. The warm water and the aromatic salts she’d added to it had eased a lot of her inner tension. She read for a little while, then crawled into bed. She tried not to think about Chase, but she lost the battle, just as she had all day.

And now to make things worse, she heard the door close next door and then sounds of him moving around. The more she attempted to shield her
mind, the stronger his presence seemed to intrude. Why him? she asked herself again for the hundredth time. Why this man when there were so many thousands of others in the world? She pounded her pillow and turned over on her side. No amount of shifting positions freed her from the memories of his kiss, the delicious curve of his smile, or the vibrant, yearning notes of the
siyotanka.

When the sounds of sloshing water came through the wall, Cara tried to close her ears with little success. He was bathing; smoking, too, she realized as the first tantalizing whiffs of tobacco began to slide into the room from under the door. The scents played gently with her nose and havoc with her senses. Cara let her imagination soar over how he must look naked in the tub: the sculpted muscles of his arms and chest, the firm hardness of mahogany-colored thighs. She wondered how it would be to have him sharing her tub. She could almost feel his hands sliding the soap across her skin, the way her breasts would tighten . . . She shook off the fantasy and hastily brought her thoughts back to saner realms.

Through the door came the sound of his singing. His voice was passable. The song, one she did not recognize, praised the qualities of some unknown Spanish beauty named Maria. He sung with a lusty boisterousness that made her think he sang it on the trail. Well, this wasn’t the trail and it was late. She wanted to sleep.

When the sloshing finally subsided, the singing didn’t, so Cara grabbed her robe and went to his door. She knocked hard to be heard over the refrain.

The song stopped. A second later she heard him
undoing the bolt and waited for him to open the door.

Chase wore only a pair of pants. One of Sophie’s big towels lay draped over a magnificent dark shoulder, and his hair was still wet. The beauty of him blinded her.

“Let me get my shirt.” He chuckled. “I’m liable to melt with you looking at me like that.”

His remark shocked her into the realization that she was staring. He crossed back into the room, slipped on a shirt, but left it unbuttoned.

“Now,” he said, looking down at her with eyes that made her remember last night, “what can I do for you?”

“The caterwauling. I’m trying to sleep.”

“I’ve been told I have a pretty fair voice.”

“Was this person living or dead?”

“Oh, Miss Henson, you wound me to the quick,” he cried, placing a hand over his heart.

Cara could not hide her smile.

“I like making you smile.”

Cara went all strange inside. “Your singing was . . . disturbing me. I have to go now.”

“Wait. If I kept you awake, please accept my apology.”

“Accepted.”

“Was there anything else?” he asked, unwilling to let her go.

For a moment, Cara could not say. There were so many things she wanted to ask, so many things going on inside herself that she could not define, never mind find the words to express. How did one tell a man who’d blazed a comet’s trail across the staidness of her life that she wanted his love? That she wanted whatever the night would bring so she could look back and say she’d loved once and loved well? When she looked into his face
again, she saw serious concern reflected there. “No,” she answered softly. “Nothing else.”

With a gentle finger he lifted her chin so he could better see the truth that might shine in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not,” she replied with a touch of irritation. “What is wrong with me?”

He answered quietly, “Nothing. Come here.” Taking her by the hand, he pulled her into the room. “You and I should talk.”

Still holding her hand, he led her past the tub and over to a chair beside the bed. He motioned her to take the chair while he sat on the big four-poster bed. “Now, first of all, there’s nothing wrong with you. What you’re feeling is desire, that’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“And is there a cure?”

“Sometimes . . .”

Cara found the courage to look directly into his eyes, instantly regretting it when the heat they harbored singed her.

“You’re a very passionate woman, Cara Lee. When you find a man worthy of you, don’t be afraid to show him that side of yourself.”

Why was he telling her this?
His
lips were the ones that had set her afire. “I don’t think there’ll be other men.”

“Why not?”

It made Care a bit uncomfortable speaking of this, especially with him, but she’d faced the future long ago. “No man will want me for a wife. Men out here need a woman young enough to bear children and strong enough to help them carve out a home. They see a schoolteacher as neither. When I first came to the Valley, some of the
men who courted me said they couldn’t see me behind a plow, even though I’ve been behind a plow many times in my life.”

Truth be known, Chase couldn’t see her behind a plow, either, although he didn’t doubt her ability to handle one. He could readily imagine her in his bed, however. More than likely, the others had, too. “You’re too hard on yourself,” he said.

Cara answered wistfully, “Truth is hard.”

He picked up her hand and tugged gently. “Come here.” When she settled on the bed, he said seriously, “Yes, some truths are hard, but this is a truth you’ve erected, schoolmarm. It isn’t reality. If you could see yourself as I do, or as any man with half a brain does, you’d know how wrong you are. You’re a very beautiful woman. You’re passionate, caring, smart. Some men probably find you a bit intimidating and a lot opinionated, but that’s part of your charm.”