Under the Desert Sky (13 page)

Now Frank was constantly badgering her. He wanted to take her to his bed, and though he kept telling her it was just a matter of time before she gave in, she knew she would never do that.

Having Christian around was causing more confusion. She knew he'd be a willing partner. When he kissed her, he said they were both mature enough to know when they wanted something, and she had to admit, she wanted him.

She closed her eyes and lowered her head. These thoughts were so wrong. She was the mother of a four-year-old child and she had a reputation.

Oh, yes, she had a reputation. After all, she had gotten pregnant before she was married. So what difference would it make if she had sex with a man who would be half a world away by the end of the year?

“I can't believe this. Do something, just do something productive,” Phoebe told herself as she opened the cabinet and began sifting flour from the bin. Her thought was to make bread, but it was too late in the day for it to rise sufficiently.

A pie. That was what she'd do. She'd make a pie.

•  •  •

A full day of hard work was good for Christian because it kept his body and mind busy. Wapi seemed to be recovering, but he was much more subdued than usual, and Will kept running back and forth to his pen to make certain he was all right.

“I don't know how that boy does it,” July said. “Does he never get tired?”

“Of course he does,” Christian said. “I'll bet he's asleep before the kitchen is cleaned up.”

“After what we've been through, I'll be right behind him.”

Just then the dinner bell rang, and the three headed for the water barrel. “Come on, Will, time to clean up. What do you think your mom has for us tonight?”

“Nothin' special. Just some old soup.”

When the three entered the kitchen, the meal was indeed soup.

“See, I told you.” Will sat down next to Christian.

Christian began to sniff. “My nose says there's something else—something with cinnamon.”

“What is it, Mama? What is it?”

“It's a surprise. After you eat your soup, we'll find out.”

When the meal was over, Phoebe withdrew the freshly baked apple pie from the pie safe.

“Yippee!” Will said. “I want the biggest piece.”

“And you'll not get it. July is the biggest, so he'll get the largest piece, and besides that, he earned it. After all, it was July who knew how to save Wapi.”

“But I'm the one who told him Wapi was sick.” Will's eyes were wide.

“Yes, you did,” Christian said, “so you should get the next-biggest piece.”

“You spoil that boy.” Phoebe hit Christian on the arm.

“There's nothing wrong with that,” Christian said with genuine tenderness.

•  •  •

After the pie was finished, Christian helped Will get ready for bed. When he had his pajamas on, Christian picked him up and carried him off to bed.

“The little tyke is worn-out,” Christian said when he returned to the kitchen. “Where's July?”

“He's calling it a night, too. Would you like another piece of pie?” Phoebe opened the door to the safe.

“No. Ask me tomorrow. You mentioned that we should've put some antiseptic on Wapi. Do you have some sort of ointment or something?”

“Oh, dear, is he not doing well?”

“When we left him, he seemed a little lethargic. I didn't want to say anything, but ‘cutting his throat,' as Will called it, is a bit drastic, wouldn't you say?”

“Of course. Let me see what I can find.” Phoebe went into her bedroom and returned with a jar of carbolic salve. “Will this work?”

Christian took the jar and opened it. “It'll do; that is, if we can get it on him. Do you feel like doctoring an ostrich for the second time today?”

“I don't think we have any choice.” Phoebe grabbed the lantern and lit its wick.

•  •  •

A few minutes later they were standing outside Wapi's pen. Wapi was in one corner with his head resting on the ground, his large eyes shuttered.

“Oh, no, he's dead.” Phoebe placed her hand on Christian's arm. “What am I going to tell Will?”

When Wapi heard Phoebe's voice, he raised his head but didn't stand.

“Thank goodness.” She opened the gate.

“Wait, we'd better use the tackey, and we should probably have a hood. Wapi's not going to take too kindly to us touching his neck again.”

“You're right.” Phoebe went into the barn and returned with a black piece of cloth that was put over a bird's head when it was being plucked. “Shall I put it on, or you?”

“Let me. You keep the stick handy, and use it if you have to. Let's hope Wapi remembers that he's a pet.”

The hooding went easily, and while Phoebe held the lantern, Christian applied the salve liberally.

“That'll have to do.” Christian removed the hood. “I don't think he'll let us near him again.”

Christian waited while Phoebe returned the hood to the shed, then they walked back to the house together.

“Would you like to sit in the swing for a few minutes?” Phoebe invited when they reached the porch. “No, wait, I guess that was pretty unthinking of me, as hard as you and July worked today. July was as tired as Will.”

“I'd love to sit with you. That is, if the night doesn't end the way it did the last time we did this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The gunshot. The night you almost killed me. That evening started out just like this.”

“How long are you going to hold that against me?” Phoebe asked with a little chuckle.

“Phoebe, the only thing I want to hold is you.”

“Oh?” Her voice was inviting more.

Christian moved toward her, the light of the lantern shining in his eyes.

Phoebe knew he was going to kiss her, and when his lips touched hers, she held her breath. She wanted this kiss, but she wasn't sure of herself enough to take it beyond this gentle brush. She needn't have worried, because the kiss deepened and caused her stomach to spiral into a wild swirl.

He pulled her to him, and his hand began to knead her back as he pressed her against his chest.

Finally, Christian drew away and stared into her eyes. “Phoebe, this is as far as I go. You're a grown woman; you're answerable to no one but yourself. If you want this to go any further, the next step is up to you.” He kissed her one last time, then rose from the swing.

•  •  •

Phoebe sat there for a long time, dazed by what had just happened. She was as ready for sex as she'd ever been in her life, the dampness between her legs affirming that. But what kind of wanton woman went to a man's bed? If she did, wouldn't she be the same as a prostitute?

•  •  •

With much trepidation Phoebe lay in her bed, her eyes wide open, looking at the moon shadows on her bedroom wall. In the past, after Edwin had chosen to abandon her bed, in frustration she'd found a way to satisfy herself. Moving her hand to the junction of her legs, she felt the moistness. She withdrew her hand quickly as if she'd been burned. She'd not even thought about doing this since Edwin had died, and she wouldn't do it now. She willed herself to sleep, to forget that an extremely handsome man was in the room above her—a man who'd openly challenged her to come to him.

As she tossed and turned, she heard the hall clock strike twelve and then one. She wondered if Christian was lying in his bed, listening to the same chime. Or had he fallen asleep instantly, just as Edwin always had?

He had told her that if she wanted this to go further, it was up to her.

“Yes, I do want this to go further, Mr. De Wet.” Phoebe got out of bed. She didn't bother taking her robe—she wouldn't need it for what she had in mind.

Leaving her bedroom, Phoebe climbed up the stairs, treading quietly, then walked down the hallway to the door that led into Christian's room.

She reached for the doorknob, turned it, and pushed the door open slightly, then stopped.

What was she doing? This was so foolish. Without doubt, this could be the most foolish thing she'd ever done in her life.

Closing the door as quietly as she'd opened it, she turned to go back down the hall, then was startled by the door's being pulled open from within the room. Christian stood in the doorway, visible in the silver moonlight that spilled in through the hall window. He was clad only in his underwear.

“Christian, I . . .” she started quietly, but she was unable to finish because Christian pulled her to him and silenced her by putting his mouth over hers.

•  •  •

Christian's first thought was that July or even Will might see them. He pulled her into the room, then closed the door behind her.

He covered her mouth with his, and deep down he knew this was wrong, that he was violating his best intentions by compromising Phoebe while he was staying with her. He hadn't expected this to develop so quickly, and he was torn between two conflicting emotions: the one to avoid taking unfair advantage of this woman who'd opened her home to him, and the other to explore the parameters of this kiss, to see how far she'd allow him to go before she asked him to stop. Or would she ask him to stop at all? Was she as caught up in this maelstrom of sensations as he was?

But she'd come to his room, he hadn't gone to hers. With the soft, inviting curves of this beautiful woman pressed against him, he was powerless to resist his own sense of propriety. When he felt her lips part under his and felt her tongue dart into his mouth, he knew there'd be no turning back.

•  •  •

What was she doing? The thought so filled her mind that Phoebe was sure she'd spoken the words aloud. She had been so adamant that the attraction building between them, bubbling up just beneath the surface, not come to fruition, yet here it was, and she'd been the instigator.

The feel of Christian's mouth on hers was exquisitely pleasurable, so pleasurable that she felt she'd die if he stopped. But there didn't seem to be any danger of his stopping, as his kisses grew deeper and more demanding.

Phoebe wanted more, and when his hands lifted her nightgown to caress her bare skin, she let out a trembling sigh that was both relief and surrender.

She ran her own hands over his body, feeling his broad shoulders, the musculature of his arms, and though it thrilled her, it quickly became clear to her that even this wasn't enough. An aching was within her, a yearning hunger for what she had gone without for so long. She wanted not merely to see and kiss and touch Christian, she wanted to be one with him.

He showered kisses on her throat. She shut her eyes and could feel his hands busily lifting her nightgown over her head. Reciprocating, she began to tug at his underwear, and they came together again, but this time naked flesh was against naked flesh.

Then Christian did something totally unexpected. He literally swept her off her feet, picking her up, then carrying her to his bed. Being physically carried by this man so aroused her that she thought she'd scream with pleasure. And even as he was carrying her, she kissed him again, sending her tongue probing deep into his mouth.

Once he laid her down on the bed, his mouth roamed over her body, sucking at her nipples and driving her wild with pleasure. Then his hand dipped down across her stomach, onto her thighs, and finally to that spot that yearned most for fulfillment. His fingers dipped into the crevice, slickened by the juices of her arousal. His hands and fingers continued to caress and tease her as his lips stayed at her breasts, drawing first one nipple into his mouth to be titillated by his tongue, only to surrender that breast and move to the other.

“Christian,” she moaned. “Oh, Christian!”

Her hand moved down until she found what she was looking for; wrapping her fingers around him, she could feel the heat, and the pulse of it. She guided him to her, and as she gasped with delight, he closed the connection with a long, deep plunge.

Phoebe was engulfed in pleasure as she felt him slide in through her moist cleft. She'd thought she was experienced, but compared to what she was experiencing now, she may as well have been a virgin. She matched her movements to his, lifting her hips to receive each thrust.

As they made love, his tongue dipped in and out of her mouth, matching the thrusts below. Absolutely nothing in her past had prepared her for what she was experiencing now.

As his strokes grew stronger and faster, the sensations grew, heightened, then spun out of control, bursting through her like a bolt of lightning.

Never had she felt anything that compared to this, and even as she was basking in the glory and wonder of it, from somewhere deep, deep inside a new convulsion of sensation arose, sending her into more paroxysms of pleasure. She knew the instant Christian was ready and felt his body tense as he emptied himself inside her.

For an instant she was frightened. It had taken only one time with Edwin for Will to have been conceived. What would she tell Frank Sloan if this, too, resulted in a child? Closing her eyes, she forced the thought out of her mind. She'd deal with that if and when it occurred. For this one night, this was her pleasure.

•  •  •

The two lay side by side, allowing the sensual gratification they had each experienced to recede. This room, which during their lovemaking had been their own private world, was now invaded by outside sounds: the lonesome whistle of a distant train, the haunting answer of a coyote, the hooting of an owl, and, more immediate, the two chimes of the clock that echoed from downstairs.

Was it but an hour ago that Phoebe lay in her own bed?

She sat up.

“What is it? What's wrong?”

Phoebe swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I should go downstairs.”

“Why?”

“I think it'd be better.”

Phoebe put her nightgown on in the darkness and started toward the door.