Romancing the Rogue (216 page)

“After you left? Not much. I think you surprised him. Amelia told him some of what happened while I went to talk to Mr. Lofton. Explain a few more things, help with the planting.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” I paused a moment, looking at my hand as it plucked at the straw beneath it. “I’ve never spoken to him like that before. But, I am so
angry
with him. Is that normal, you think?”

“I think it’s understandable.” Grayson covered my hand with his, staying my movements. He pulled my fingers up to his mouth, kissed them lightly
¯
the stubble running along his chin tickling my palm.

“Is he angry?” I didn’t care about my father in that moment; I just wanted to feel Grayson’s lips on mine. I always felt so right when he touched me, so safe
¯
so wanted. Not like the jumbled mass of emotion I had become in the last few days. It seemed like forever since we’d been alone together like this.

“No. Perplexed. I think he has probably been looking forwar
d to getting you girls again and what does he find when he gets here? Your sister widowed, his brother a thief and an abuser, and you¯you being so justifiably angry with him
¯
I don’t think he knows what to think.” He turned slightly, body sinking deeper into the hay, aligning more along with mine. No space separated us now, and I was reminded of how we’d slept side by side all those nights. I missed that. I missed having him hold me while I slept. Who knew I could become so used to having someone beside me in such a short amount of time?

I rested my head against his chest, half layering my upper body over his larger one. He didn’t comment, just tucked me closer, his chin coming to rest upon the crown of my head.

This was where I belonged, and I knew it with the uttermost clarity. I belonged with this man. Beside him, helping him, having him with me. “Grayson?”

“Hmm?”

I looked at him through my lashes, ran my eyes over the strength of his jaw, the softness of his lips. “I don’t want to go with my father. I want to go with you. I want you to come visit me, to sit on the porch of your grandparents’ place. Take rides in your wagon. I don’t want Maryland to be my home. I want Tennessee.”

He didn’t speak for several moments and I began to fear I had once more overstated. Did he think that with my father alive I didn’t need him anymore?

“Why? Because you are angry with your father?” His hands tightened on my shoulders as he turned me to face him. “Is that why? Don’t you want to be with your sisters?”

“Yes. But I’d rather be with you. And maybe we can, if she’s willing, take Amelia with us?” A pleading entered my tone that I wasn’t proud of. But I wanted him to understand that I was choosing to be with him
¯
and not because I was angry with my father.

That had nothing to do with it. I knew I would eventually forgive Papa; of that I had no doubt, but I was old enough that it was time to take the next step in my life. I wasn’t a dependent child any longer.

“Olivia.” He sighed then and I knew he was going to say no
¯
that he didn’t want me anymore. I straightened my spine, pulling away from him slightly
¯
preparing myself for his rejection.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what I’ll find there.”

“I understand that, but¯“

“And I still need to find my brother.”

“I know, I know that, Grayson.” I whispered the words to him, wrapping my arms about myself though the barn was warm.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He moved suddenly, pulling me across his lap. “It’s going to be hard. Real hard, and I have no idea what I’m going to come across. It would be wrong of me to expect you to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Someone else will have more to offer you.”

“I want to
go
with you!”

“But if you stay here with your father you’ll have a better life. He’ll see you settled here. You’ll find somebody with more to give you, someone like Daniel or Nathanial. They’ve both asked of you.” His words were low and I struggled to hear him.

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t aware of any interest on the twins’ parts. What was he saying
¯
that he preferred I stay behind, be with someone else? Was he actually promoting one of the twins? I moved to stand, put more space between us, but his hand on my back stayed me. “What are you saying¯that you
want
me to stay with my father? You don’t want me with you anymore?”

“That’s not it, if you come with me there will be hardships. Can you face them without your family? With just me? If you went with me, it might be years before you saw your father, your sisters again. What if your father won’t let us take the child? Tennessee’s most likely been ravaged, I wouldn’t want my child going into that kind of place. Can you be without her? Can she be without you?”

“She’ll have Rachel. If she stays with my father. Maybe he can send her to us once we get settled?” I hedged this idea, not sure where it was coming from. If Tennessee was going to be as bad as he had said, did I really want to risk the child? “Once we know what it will be like down there? I want to be with you, I thought you wanted to be me with me, too. Or have you changed your mind?”

“No. I’ve not changed my mind.” He stood then, walked a few paces toward the door. I stared up at him. His back was toward me, and I found myself counting the flecks of straw that clung to the cotton shirt he’d borrowed. He spun suddenly and I gasped at the movement. “No, dammit. I want you with me!”

He crouched down, resting on the balls of his feet, his hands fisting on my shoulders. So close our noses were almost brushing, I could feel his breath on my face. I shifted, leaning toward him, feeling the straw crinkle beneath my weight. It sounded oddly loud in the sudden stillness. “You do? But what about what you’ve just said?”

My words were a whisper but I knew he’d heard them, as close as my mouth was to his lips.

“Damn what I just said. If the last four years have taught me nothing but this, then I am a fool. You must take every day for the gift it is. Every day could be the day you are called to your Maker.” His hands slipped around my ribs then higher, resting beneath my arms. He lifted me, the deftness of his action pulling the breath from my chest as I was settled against his. “I’m tired of waiting; I’m not doing it any longer. Olivia
¯
will you accompany me to Tennessee? I can’t guarantee a prosperous life
¯
but I can offer you a home, and protection. I’m asking you to leave your family behind. Are you ready to do that?
Can
you do that?”

“I...” I pulled my head back to look up at him. The evening shadows made the barn seem dim, made his face look younger, his eyes more intense. He covered my lips with his own, cutting off my words. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling. It seemed like years since he’d last kissed me, rather than the days I knew it to be. He pulled back and I tried again to speak.

“Shh, sweetheart. Don’t answer yet. Once I have your word I’ll expect you to honor it. So please think carefully.” He ran his tongue over my upper lip, dipping in at the corner to taste
¯
tease. My arms found their way up behind his head, his curls brushing against my arms. I stretched my body
¯
upward and inward into his
¯
in a manner I never would have employed a mere week ago. I opened my lips slightly before pressing them more firmly against his.

How was I to convey that it was no longer a choice for me? That while I’d undoubtedly miss my sisters if we separated
¯
I’d miss him so much more?

I pulled one hand down, resting it against the top button of his shirt. I slid it free before moving on to the next
¯
and then the next. His hand caught at mine, tightened as if to check my movements, then released slowly
¯
deliberately. I looked at him again, his face in the growing shadows reminding me of that first night in this very barn. His hand rose, sank into the hair behind my ear, his eyes open and staring into mine.

How did I show him that my choice had been made?

I arched my back, keeping my eyes on him, and pressed my lips against his. I wanted him to feel what I felt, to know what I thought. His eyes narrowed, and then he pulled me even closer, his hands fisting in the material of my dress. I loved it when he held me close to him. I loved feeling the strength of his body pressed against me. He was Grayson, and everything to me.

He took over the kiss, running his tongue over my bottom lip before slipping it in to tease mine. This time I met his eagerly, tightening my own embrace around him. I loved the taste of him
¯
that spicy warmth I associated only with him.

My hands trembled where they rested on his back and I twisted my fingers into his shirt, pulling it from the band of his trousers. I pulled my hands back toward me, suddenly unsure, and I felt him smile against my lips. His hands captured both of mine, pushing them behind me. My back arched in response and my whole front was pressed up against him. I loved feeling him that close to me; he was so tall, so strong and it made me feel tiny and delicate, protected and safe, and so much a woman.

He towered above me, still holding me arched against him, and began walking me backwards; I felt the pile of straw against my legs. The prickly strands poked me through the thin fabric of my skirt and underclothing but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but the man holding me.

I allowed him to lower me to the soft straw, not even caring when it stuck in my hair and my clothing. He followed me down with his body, resting there beside me, propped up on his elbow. “Please, Grayson?”

“Please what, sweetheart?” His breath tickled my cheek as he leaned in ever closer.

“Take me with you.” I told him what I wanted, wrapping one hand around his neck, trying to bring his mouth back down to mine. He stared down at me for a long moment and I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

“Yes. I’ll take you with me.” His hand rose and sank into the tangled hair spread over the straw and then fisted, keeping my head still for what he was about to do.

I could sense that this was something different, that he didn’t intend to stop at just kisses and a few chaste caresses. And I was ready, I wanted him to, wanted him to know that I would give him everything if he asked.

I waited expectedly for him to kiss me again, certain that that was what came next. He surprised me, though, kissing the base of my neck, running his tongue over the exposed skin there. The combination of his tongue and the bristles on his chin and above his lips sent quakes racing along my spine. He chuckled softly at my reaction, a wickedly masculine sound that caused the shivers to intensify.

He grazed the side of my neck, the underside of my jaw, before resting near my ear. The feel of his breath against the lobe had me twisting slightly
¯
whether to escape him or get closer I didn’t know
¯
and I moaned. He
shushed
me, but I barely heard him, the sound of my heart beating so strongly drowning nearly everything else out.

“It will be okay, just relax.”

I couldn’t relax, my body was strung so taut. I knew he felt my trembling; I was shaking so hard that I knew he felt every wave. His hand skimmed down my side, causing bumps to rise along my skin, before it came to rest on my stomach. I stared at him, though I couldn’t see him in the darkness of the barn. I closed my eyes when I felt his fingers slip the first hook on my dress free.

He slowly slid one finger under the material, skimmed it over the fabric of my undergarment. He rested his hand there for a moment before working the next hook, and then the next, and the next. Soon he had parted the blue material exposing the thin cotton of my camisole. I was thankful for the darkness
¯
grateful that he couldn’t see my face, my embarrassment at my near nakedness. He pulled back slightly then lifted me to sit. He slid the sleeves of my gown down until the entire bodice rested against my waist. I offered no protest, anxious, even eager to show him that I trusted him, that I wanted to be with him.

He leaned forward to kiss me again and I sat compliant. Soon, though, I felt his hands lift my hips, then pull the blue material over my bottom. Then I sat before him in only my undergarments.

I held no nervousness about my decision to be with him, just apprehension about what we were doing. He must have sensed my unstated fears for his kisses gentled a little, retreating to the familiar embraces I was accustomed to.

Soon it was I who wanted more--stronger touches, deeper kisses. I wove the fingers of both hands into the hair at the crown of his head, pulling him closer. He obliged, running his tongue over my lips again before dipping in to toy with mine. I was so caught up in his taste that I almost didn’t notice him removing my camisole until it was being laid on the straw behind me. My corset soon followed and I had to fight the instinctive urge to cover myself. It was dark; he couldn’t see me, so why did it matter?

He whispered something to me, some sort of reassurance. He pulled me ever still closer, tucking my head beneath his chin, as he ran his hands along my spine, pulling the long material of my chemise up; he dipped his fingers into the band of my drawers before pulling the chemise over my head. Then I sat against him clad only in my drawers, the cooling night air chilling my exposed chest. I was suddenly reminded of that day by the stream when he’d caught me bathing. He’d been able to see everything that day, now I was thankful for the barn’s darkness. No one, save my sisters, had ever seen me thus
¯
with the exception of this man and the enormity of that suddenly flooded me.

“It will be fine, sweetheart.” He murmured against my shoulder, before dropping a tickling kiss onto it. “It will be fine. Just relax. We’ve all the time now. We won’t rush.”

“I’m relaxed.” I shivered as I spoke, and we both knew it was a lie.

He laughed at my response, patently disbelieving, and hugged me close for a moment. My breath caught at the feel of his shirt against my chest. They pulled taut, the sensation echoed in my lower belly. I had slipped the first three fastenings of his shirt free and now his fingers went to complete the job.

He pulled the cloth over his arms, and removed it in one quick motion, spreading it and my chemise on the straw. Then he removed his trousers, leaving himself clad only in underwear. I could barely see him as I felt his hands on my upper arms guiding me back onto the newly arranged bedding; he seemed so large as he lay beside and above me.

I squirmed on the straw, the materials I rested on doing little to protect me from the scratchiness of the dried grass. Soon, though, it didn’t matter as he began kissing me and touching me with more fervor until the only thing I was aware of was him and what he was doing to me. I cooperated when he removed my drawers, no thought to protest when his hand trailed along my hip before running lightly up my thigh. It was only when he pulled away to remove his own undergarment that I protested.

He quickly returned, moving more insistent against me, parting my knees and resting between them. It was the most intimate position I had ever been in, something he had never done before
¯
even when we were lying side by side in our hotel room. I felt the roughness of his legs against mine, the muscles hard and firm and sweat-slicked. I tried to pull away, to sink deeper into the waiting straw but he told me
no
, pulled my hands above my head, causing my back to arch against him. I felt the hairs sprinkled over his chest rub against my skin, tightening it even more. One hand held mine in place as the other touched me, running first over my chest then even lower.