Dorothy Garlock (39 page)

“Sweet and beautiful. You’re trembling.” His voice was soft and lazy, almost a whisper.

“No, I’m not . . . beautiful. I’m not young anymore.”

He made a small noise. Powerful forearms crossed under her breasts, drawing her to him while his lips rested on her shoulder.

“You’re perfect. I can’t get used to the thought that you’re mine and that I don’t have to spend another night in that bed thinking about you on the other side of the wall.” His hands moved up to her breasts, gently kneading. His lips found her neck again where her hair parted, falling forward.

She couldn’t speak. Instead her lips shaped his name, “Owen, love—”

While he nuzzled her smooth skin, one palm left her breast to flatten against her lower belly, pulling her buttocks tightly against him, molding her against his hard abdomen, letting her feel the rise as his body sprang to life in response to hers.

“I want you all the time.” When he spoke, his breath rushed against her ear. His cheek pressed to hers was rough.

Ana squeezed her eyes shut. It seemed to her that the center of her being lay beneath his hands, and she sagged against him. He backed up to the bed, sat down and pulled her onto his lap. She buried her nose in the curve of his neck, breathed in the scent of his skin, and felt the beat of his heart against her breast.

“Tell me what you told me last night,” he demanded in a husky whisper.

“What was that?”

“You know. Say it.”

“I love you.”

“I’m going to ask you every day.” While he spoke he brushed his lips to hers, barely touching.

“You won’t have to ask. I love you—love you—love you—”

“Kiss me then—”

She looked up at him, then closed her eyes as he covered her mouth with his.

“How is it possible?” he murmured between kisses.

She knew what he wanted to know.

“It’s easy to love you. So easy—” she panted.

He pulled back to see her face. “Let’s go to bed, love.” They gazed at each other; She at his incredible blue eyes and bruised face, he at her tawny eyes, dreamy with love, and her soft mouth waiting for his kisses. “Can we leave the lamp burning for a while?”

“If you want to.”

“You’re so pretty. I want to look at you before I kiss you and after I kiss you—” he whispered, and gently pushed her off his lap and pulled her between his legs. Feeling shy and absurdly awkward, she allowed him to unbutton her nightdress to the waist. His large hands gently pulled aside the gaping gown as if he were opening a priceless treasure. Her breasts were round and firm, her nipples dark and taut. He looked at them for a long moment before he moved his head and kissed each of them reverently, repeatedly. When he raised his head to look into her face, his was flushed.

“I’ll never hurt you, Ana.”

The vow was made so sincerely, Ana wanted to cry. Her fingers slid into the hair at the back of his head and she pressed his face to her breast.

“I know, love. I know.”

He clasped her bottom in his two hands, holding her to him. When he released her, he slid the gown from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“Let’s have nothing between us.”

She nodded and lay down on the bed. It seemed that she was living a dream. She watched him while he shed the rest of his clothes. The hair on his chest narrowed over his stomach. His sex, in a nest of dark hair, was fully erect. She gazed at it before her eyes went to the puckered hole in his thigh where he had been gored by the bull, then back to his groin as if fascinated.

“Do I frighten you?” Owen said, catching her look.

“No. You’re . . . magnificent.”

“Hardly that.”

Saying more would have been impossible. He lay down beside her. The mattress dipped, rolling them toward each other. His arms wrapped her tightly to him, his mouth found hers and, despite his sore lips, tried to convey all the love in his heart in the kiss he gave her.

Ana’s arms went up to hold him closer as he leaned over her. His rigid sex nudged her belly. He was as hard and firm and as wonderful as before. Instinctively knowing what would please him, her hand burrowed between them. Her fingers closed around him. Thrilled, she felt the pulsing response. She was drunk with the freedom to touch him, and her heart thundered in her ears.

Owen came close to crying out when she sought and found him. He covered her face with quick kisses, telling of his love with each touch of his lips. All his life he had longed to belong whole-heartedly to someone and for someone to hold him as if he were precious to her. He wanted to cry out that a miracle had happened.

In these moments of closeness, with his hands beneath her hips, he eased her up and filled her slowly and carefully. From deep in his throat came a groan of pleasure. He lifted his head and watched the emotions cross her face, one after the other. Surprise. Passion. Pleasure.

“I’m not good with pretty words,” he whispered shakily after they were fully joined. “I can only say that I love you so much it scares the hell out of me.”

“I’ve never heard prettier words.” Her lips nibbled at his. She felt like crying for all the lonely years she’d spent before knowing him.

The full length of him was buried inside her. He wanted to laugh with the pure joy of it. Her hands on his buttocks urged on, begging for more. Conscious thought left him, obliterated by the need to put out the fire that engulfed them. He heard a small animal cry come from Ana, and felt the flood of his seed pour into her. He shuddered, striving to reach into her very soul. His heaving body was bound to hers, heart and mind, in total consummation. Breathless and spent, he collapsed over her. He had been lonely, so lonely, and here it was, all the joy he had thought would never be his.

Despite his weight on her, Ana felt a peace like the calm following a storm. She opened her eyes and looked into deep blue ones soft with love. He moved his face so his lips could reach her mouth. He kissed her tenderly and eased his body off hers.

Ana felt as if she were drunk with happiness. A wave of possessiveness washed over her. She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled his head to her shoulder. With her fingers, she smoothed his hair back from his brow and whispered, “I’ll love you for ever and ever, Owen Jamison.”

He nuzzled his face against her breast, feeling tears build behind his closed lids. He hadn’t known how sweet it would be to love and be loved.

*   *   *

Soren had calmed down by the time he walked across the field to the Knutson farm. His agitation would only bother Lily, he reasoned, and the girl had enough on her plate without worrying that he would get into a fight with Procter.

The only light in the house was in the kitchen. Soren sidled up to the window. Procter and Jens were hunched over the kitchen table talking in low tones. Their heads were so close they were almost touching. Suddenly Procter leaned back and pounded his fist on the table. Jens shook his head in silent warning and jerked it toward the door of the room where Lily and Hettie slept.

“Bastards are cooking up something they don’t want Lily to know about,” Soren mumbled to himself.

Procter looked as if he had tangled with a bear. The sight brought a smile to Soren’s face. The German’s lips were cut and almost twice their normal size. One eye was swollen shut. His shoulder was hurting something fierce or else he wouldn’t be resting his bent arm in the bib of his overalls and moving so stiffly. Owen must have cracked him a good one on the collarbone, Soren thought gleefully.

Soren was glad to see that Owen hadn’t lost his touch. A good crack on the kneecap and one on the collarbone puts a man out of commission for a while. His cousin wasn’t as dirty a fighter as he was. He’d a given the bastard a whack on his balls that would have made him walk spraddle-legged for a month or more.

Soren moved around to the darkened window and tapped lightly to let Lily know he was there. She would have to wait until Hettie was asleep and the men had left the kitchen before she could come out. He moved back beneath the oak tree where he could watch the kitchen door.

The upstairs windows were dark and there was no sound. Poor Esther. He wondered if they had drugged her with laudanum to keep her quiet. Lily would do her best to see that no harm came to her, but what could one small girl do against men like Jens and Procter. Esther had always been mean and ill-tempered; but she had also taken care of her brothers, and she didn’t deserve what had happened to her.

The moon hung over the treetops like a huge ripe pumpkin. Soren squatted down and rested his back against the tree trunk. After a while Procter limped out onto the back porch, stood on the edge and let his water arc into Lily’s flower bed. Soon the ground around the house would smell like an outhouse. Soren ground his teeth and muttered, “Crude bastard!”

Finally the light in the kitchen went out. Soren stood and moved around to get the blood flowing in his legs before he moved up closer to the door. It seemed forever before a slim, black-clad figure moved off the porch and, staying in the shadows, ran toward the tree. A strange emotion churned through Soren as it always did when Lily came to meet him. He opened his arms and she came into them.

Lily’s arms went around his middle and she held on as if her life depended on it. “Oh, Soren! Oh, Soren!” she gasped against his chest.

“What is it, honey? Has that bastard touched you?” he demanded.

“No. But he and Grandpa are planning something. They made me and Mama go to bed. And Esther—this morning Procter gave her a dose of laudanum and she’s been asleep all day.” Lily began to cry. “I can’t keep Mama from sassing them, and Procter slapped her. Grandpa didn’t say anything.”

“Did he hurt Hettie?”

“Not very much, but now she’s so scared she won’t come out of our room. They’re m-mean to her and they’re awful m-mad at Uncle Owen.” Lily’s lips quivered as she tried to hold back the tears.

“They’re all in a sweat because Owen’s going to take Esther home and he wants you and Hettie to come over and live in the old house and help take care of her.”

“Grandpa won’t let me go.” Lily shook her head as she spoke. “He’ll be glad to get rid of Esther, and I think even . . . Mama. She’s started to stand up to him. Sometimes she sasses him awful. He’s mad all the time. Today he dropped down in the chair, sweating and gasping for breath, after Procter slapped her. I don’t think he liked it, but he didn’t do anything.”

“Owen and I will be here in the morning to get Esther. You and Hettie want to live with Owen and Ana, don’t you?”

“Yes, but Grandpa won’t let us. He doesn’t want the neighbors to know about Esther. He’d like for her to go away. He’d say she was visiting and died there. Poor Esther. S-somebody’s got to take care of h-her.”

“I know. Now don’t cry, baby, don’t cry.”

“S-Soren? I’m not a b-baby—”

“I know that, too. You’re a pretty, sweet girl with a load of trouble on her shoulders.” His lips moved across her forehead as if she were a small child. He rocked her back and forth, his arms cradling her to him.

“Is that why you come to see me? You’ve never even kissed me . . . proper.”

Soren was still for a long moment before he whispered, “If I start kissing you the way I want to, I may never stop.”

“I’ve never been kissed by a man.”

“Then I think it’s time you were.”

Lily watched his mouth move toward hers and instinctively raised her lips. His lips pressed hers gently, then took slow, deliberate possession. As if she had no control, her lips parted invitingly beneath his. She could feel the scrape of his whiskers on her cheeks and feel the pounding of his heart against her palm. A wave of gladness made her pulse leap. Her hands moved beneath his arms to his back and she hugged him tightly to her.

His warmth seeped into her. She luxuriated in his strength. Her acceptance seemed to trigger a deeper need in him and the quality of his kiss exploded into a passionate demand that sent a powerful message to the area below her stomach. When he lifted his head, she closed her eyes against momentary giddiness. The tightness in her chest hurt, and the fullness in her throat prevented her from speaking.

“How did you like your first kiss?”

Fearing that she would do something foolish and irreversible brought Lily back to reality.

“I don’t think I’d like it from . . . anyone else.” In spite of her thundering heartbeat, she spoke calmly. Didn’t he know that her love for him was tearing her apart, that every time he left her she cried herself to sleep because he thought she was still a child?

“Ah . . . innocent little sweetheart.”

“Have you kissed many girls, Soren?”

“A few. But none as sweet as you.”

“You’ll be leaving again.” Lily’s heart moved uncomfortably.

“Not until fall. Lily, I’m not a . . . staying kind of man. I don’t know that I could live in one place for the rest of my life.”

“You’ll never settle down?”

“I’ve never had the yen to. I like to see what’s beyond the next bend in the river. Someday you’ll meet a man who will love you to distraction and will want to live right here. You’ll have a bunch of little brown-eyed kids and—”

“I’ve got to go in.” Lily pulled away from him and would have run back to the house if he had not grabbed her arm.

“Oh, Lord! Lily, you didn’t think—?”

“Think what? That . . . you might be c-courting me? Don’t be silly, Soren.”

“You’ve always been like a little sister to me. I can’t stand to think of you being over here and . . . and Procter being here, and that he might get ideas—”

“I understand. I’ve got to go. Grandpa’d have a fit if he knew I’d been meeting you.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. You know that, don’t you, honey?”

“I know that. Don’t worry.”

“But, Lily—”

“Bye, Soren.”

She slipped away from him. He watched her run to the house and jump on the porch. The screen door closed behind her with a loud bang.

“What’s goin’ on down there?” It was Procter’s voice that came out of the darkness.

“Get to bed. Hear?” Jens yelled.

“I’m getting a drink of water, Grandpa.”