WILD OATS (15 page)

Cora's words were spoken with such conviction that Jedwin found himself suddenly determined to quit dreaming and start working.

"Yes, Mrs. Briggs," he said. "I am going to do it."

They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, each gathering strength from the other, until the intimacy of the moment grew uncomfortable. Cora looked away first. Jedwin hurriedly brought a playful smile to his face.

"I'm nearly starved!" he exclaimed, leaning over as if to sneak a peek into the picnic basket. “What did you bring me, Mrs. Briggs, Indian cookies?"

"Fried chicken, just as your poem suggested," Cora assured him. "I can cook more than Indian cookies."

"I love your Indian cookies," Jedwin protested. They'd reached the barnyard fence and turned to lean against it as he pulled Cora into his arms. "I would eat mud pies, ma'am," he declared, "if they were made by your hand."

His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, his mouth lightly brushing against hers.

Since the day he'd fallen out of the tree, Jedwin had taken every opportunity to kiss Cora Briggs. He felt comfortable doing that; she never objected or held back. But he had never pressed her for more. In his tortured nights he dreamed of caressing her bosom or lifting her skirts to touch the curve of her hip, but he never attempted either. When he was honest with himself, he knew it was not entirely because he thought that she might reject him, although she might.

Working the reaper gave him a lot of time to think. He'd decided that he understood the reason men wanted to marry virgins. If the man was clumsy and fumbling, a virtuous woman would be too ignorant to realize. It was a bit daunting that Mrs. Briggs could not be fooled. If he blundered she would be sure to know it.

For her part, Cora thought Jedwin's hesitation to press her for more intimacy was both considerate and endearing. Before she'd met Luther she'd never kissed a man. And Luther only kissed her as a prelude to the bed. Cora figured that she'd kissed Jedwin Sparrow more in the last four days than she'd kissed Luther in their entire year of marriage.

Jedwin was by turns tender and gentle and passionate. His lips had explored every inch of her face and neck, and even her hands and fingers had felt the hot caress of his lips. But he never frightened her or took advantage. Yesterday they had lain in each other's arms in the haymow. Talking and talking and kissing until Cora could feel the hardness in the front of his trousers through her skirts.

He'd stopped and moved back a little, surveying her as if trying to make a decision.

"Mrs. Briggs," he'd whispered quietly. "I've . . . well, I've heard that there is a kiss where the man puts his tongue in the woman's mouth."

Cora's eyes widened and her face flushed brightly. "Yes," she answered. "There is a kiss like that." In fact, she knew it well. Luther was always poking his tongue down her throat, nearly gagging her, frightening her. It didn't seem like a kiss at all. It seemed more an invasion of her privacy.

"I don't like that kind of kissing," Cora said a little too sharply.

"All right," Jedwin answered. Again he covered her lips with his own, gently, lovingly.

"That tongue kiss is not much of a kiss," Cora told him when their lips parted. "I never cared for it."

"All right," Jedwin said again and gently feathered his lips along her jawline.

"I know you are probably disappointed," Cora said.

Jedwin pulled back a little to look at her. "Nothing about you could disappoint me,'' he said.”If you don't like that kind of kissing, then we won't do it. That seems simple enough."

"But aren't
you
disappointed?" she asked. "You are here alone with a woman whose reputation is in shreds and she decides that she is finicky about what kind of kissing she wants. It doesn't seem fair."

He looked at her curiously. “Just having you close to me is more fairness than I could ever hope for."

Cora knew that it was true. And in a way, she wished he weren't so honorable. If he insisted on more, it would relinquish some of her responsibility for her own actions. Or maybe give her a real reason to call it all to an end.

"All right," Cora said, raising her chin bravely. "If you want to kiss me with your tongue, you may."

Jedwin chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. "Mrs. Briggs, if you don't like that, why would I want to do it?''

"Because you've never done it," Cora said tartly. "You are supposed to be sowing your wild oats. This is one of the things men get to do when they are sowing wild oats."

"The only oats I am sowing, Mrs. Briggs, are out there in that field. I find you extremely attractive and adore being with you. But I expect nothing."

"Well, perhaps you should begin to expect some things," Cora told him. "Come here," she whispered, pulling him closer.

Her mouth covered his and he felt the tip of her tongue along his teeth, begging entrance. When he opened wider, her tongue slipped inside his mouth, fluttering around like a butterfly caught in a Mason jar.

Desire curled deep within him and he startled and pulled slightly away. When Cora pulled back, his breathing was rapid and he swallowed convulsively.

"I like it!" was his whispered exclamation.

Cora giggled lightly. His enthusiasm had been coercing.

Now, after only one day of practice, Cora felt Jedwin's tongue gently asking for entry. She obliged him, knowing that the warm, sweet duel their mouths would play was nothing like the suffocating domination of Luther Briggs.

Jedwin held her close. There was as much teasing in his passion as awe. She felt safe and warm and beloved.

Slowly he pulled away, his fingers lingering on her jaw. His smile was lazy and languid. It thrilled her to the tips of her toes.

"Come along," he said softly. "I want you to see the house. I've been fixing it up."

Walking together, hands clasped and swinging between them, they were like two children on a school holiday. The house was set a little back from the barn. An ancient log structure, it was taller than it was wide, giving it a strange, slightly awkward appearance.

The house was set up on a foundation of local stone, though most of it had sunk down into the earth through the years. But there was still a large, flat piece of sandstone that served as the doorstep.

"It's still pretty messy," Jedwin warned her as he assisted her up the step and through the door. "I've used it for an overflow barn a couple of times. And, of course, just being empty and uncared for doesn't help a place."

As Cora looked around, she couldn't keep a delighted smile from her face. "Oh, Jedwin. It's wonderful."

The ground floor was only one room. A huge stone-and-mud fireplace was at one end and a set of incredibly narrow stairs at the other. The pine floors creaked beneath her feet as she moved around the room. Large windows had been cut in every wall. They were not fancy, city windows with glass panes. Cora reached up and undid one of the rough-looking fire-bent latches. As she opened out the shutters, the room was suffused with light.

"It's beautiful," she said, looking out on the oat field with its bright gold shooks standing in precision file like palace guards.

She felt Jedwin's nearness before he wrapped his arms around her waist. "It's like Grandpa Pratt was trying to bring the outside inside," he said. "From the upstairs windows you get views of the river from three directions."

"Oh, let's see!"

Taking her hand, Jedwin led Cora to the narrow stairway, admonishing her to be careful of the old stairboards.

The second floor was divided into two rooms. Cora hurried to the nearest window and flung it open. In the distance the Cimarron River made its twisting curve back toward town.

"Look." Jedwin stood so close beside her that she could smell the hint of fresh-mown grain on his clothes and hair. He pointed to a distant landmark. "There is your knoll."

"Why it is!
I
always thought that up there I was completely out of sight. If you were in this room you could watch my every move!"

"I know."

Cora turned to him, her eyes wide in surprise. "Jedwin Sparrow! I am surprised at you!" But she laughed.

Jedwin showed her around the house, pointing out the hand-hewn woodwork and the tongue-in-groove window fittings.

"The story is," Jedwin told her, "that Grandma Pratt was a very difficult woman to please. She thought she was too good for this rough frontier and believed that she deserved far better than life here had to offer her.'' Jedwin hesitated.”Kind of like my mama, I suppose. Grandpa spent most of their first years here trying to build a home to her specifications."

"Well, he certainly did a beautiful job," Cora said. "Did she come to appreciate it?"

Jedwin shrugged. "She died the first year they lived in the house. That's why Grandpa never bothered with improvements. I suspect that's why he never bothered with much of anything."

As they made their way back down the stairs, Jedwin was thoughtful. "Even after he'd remarried, Grandpa used to talk about her nearly every day. I think he had kind of lost his own life when she died."

Cora thought of her own parents with a pang. She wished she remembered more good stories about them. "Do you want to have our picnic in here?" she suggested, wanting to dust away the melancholy shadows that had fallen around them.

Smiling, Jedwin readily agreed. "You want me to build up a little fire?"

"It's not really that cold," Cora said.

He nodded. "It isn't, but if I build a fire, we can open all the windows and invite the outside in."

Chapter Twelve

The crisp fall breeze poured through the open windows of the Pratt farmhouse as Jedwin and Cora sat on the tablecloth in front of the crackling fire.

"You sure you don't want some of this chicken?" Jedwin asked, holding out a bite to her.

Cora shook her head, looking down at her potato pancakes and barley broth. "Mrs. Millenbutter is fairly certain that meat of any kind is counter to spiritual completeness."

Jedwin raised an eyebrow. "Why would she think so?"

"It seems that there is a direct relationship between the physical body and the spiritual soul. They are like two parts of one whole."

Cora picked up a piece of bread and tore it in two. "You see that these are about the same size," she said, holding up the pieces of bread. "But you can see that the edges are ragged."

Jedwin nodded.

"That's how the body and soul are. Where one is a little too much," she said, pointing out a protruding jut on the bread's dissection, "the other has too little."

Jedwin took the piece of bread that had too little and, with a shrug, stuck it into his mouth.

"So," Cora conducted. "If you are unhealthy physically, your spirituality will overrun you. And if you are unhealthy spiritually, your body will have more meaning than was ever meant."

"Then you are supposed to be neither," Jedwin said.

"Balance," Cora explained. "Balance is the key to everything. That's why I do the exercises marching and with the wand. I try to perfect my sense of balance so that I can expand it to my entire life."

Jedwin eyed her curiously. "Eating only vegetables and no meat seems a little out of balance to me."

Cora shook her head. "The eating doesn't have to do with the balance exactly," she said. "It has to do with health. Mrs. Millenbutter finds meats difficult to digest."

Nodding sagely, Jedwin tore off a perfect bite of chicken. "It sounds to me as if Mrs. Millenbutter has gallbladder problems."

Cora stared at him, openmouthed and aghast for a moment. She'd been following Mrs. Millenbutter's advice for so long, she never questioned the author's logic.

Then Jedwin slowly waved a piece of chicken before her eyes. She began to giggle.

"Mrs. Briggs," he said in the monotone of a mesmerizer. "You will want chicken. You will seek to eat it. And it will not upset your balance because you don't have gallbladder problems."

Jedwin continued to move the chicken back and forth before her eyes like a metronome. "You will dream of fried chicken. You will not be satisfied until you taste it. The salty flavor of it will be on your tongue. You will no longer be able to live without it."

Cora was giggling near hysteria, but his hypnotic suggestion seemed to be working. Suddenly, it looked very delicious, and it had been a very long time since she'd had any. She lunged for the chicken. Jedwin pulled it out of her grasp.

"All right," she conceded. "I want to taste it!"

"Good!" Jedwin answered with his own mischievous laugh and then stuck one end of the beautiful piece of chicken into his mouth. Jutting out his chin he offered her the other end of the same piece.

"Come and get it," he teased through clenched teeth.

Giving him a look of playful exasperation, Cora shook her finger at him. "Shame on you. First you tempt me to chicken and then kisses to go with it!"

He grinned, the slab of chicken still held tightly between his teeth.

Cora tutted in disapproval. Then without warning she threw her arms around Jedwin's neck, nearly knocking him over and solidly bit off her half of the chicken.

She immediately pulled back away from him and began to chew. Jedwin, still a little stunned by her quick move and the light warmth of her lips lingering on his own, followed suit, grinning.

"How about some pickled beets?" he asked after he'd finished his bite of chicken.

Cora laughed. "I warn you, Jedwin, there is no way that you can hold those beets in your teeth long enough for me to bite off my half."

He nodded in agreement. "Well, perhaps you'll let me feed them to you."

He opened the jar, carefully, trying not to spill any of the bright purple juice that might stain Cora's dress. He fished out a beet on his spoon and with his hand cupped under it, offered it up to Cora to eat.

Cora's eyes widened. "Now you're trying to feed me? That's too big, you should cut it in half."

Jedwin brought the spoon to his mouth, bit off a good portion of the beet for himself and then raised the remainder to Cora's mouth once more.

There seemed to be something inexplicably wanton about being fed by a man.

Daringly, Cora opened her mouth and Jedwin slipped the spoon inside. When he pulled it out, the spoon was clean and shiny. But a remnant of pretty purple stained Cora's lips.

"How is it?" he asked.

Cora grinned at him wickedly, but spoke with a tone that feigned innocence. "It's the best pickled beet I've ever tasted."

Jedwin fed her another and watched as her pretty pink tongue, now lightly stained with purple, swept across her upper lip with libidinous efficiency. Then he handed her the spoon. "Feed me," he said.

She managed to alluringly feed him a couple of much appreciated pieces before the naughtiness of their actions overrode the sensual sparring. She giggled.

"Now, now," Jedwin cautioned. "No giggling. We are striving for balance here."

"What kind of balance is that?"

"The balance between what I am doing and what I would like to do," he answered with a chuckle. "My turn," he said, retrieving the spoon from her. Dipping deep into the jar, he brought out another beet.

"My dear Mrs. Briggs," he said in the tone of a lyrical swain. "A man could write poetry about your pearly white teeth so daintily chomping down on a crisp red vegetable."

Cora nearly choked with laughter and a piece of beet dropped from her mouth onto the clean white pleats of her cotton batiste shirtwaist. Skidding down, the beet left a bright purple trail from the bottom of her throat to the hillock of her right breast.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, looking quickly for a cloth.

"I'll get it," Jedwin said. To her total surprise, the young man leaned forward and, with his tongue and teeth, plucked the small spill from her bosom.

His touch had been so light, so delicate that Cora had hardly felt it. But as she looked up into his eyes, her nipples hardened with remembrance and her throat dried with rough desire.

"Jedwin, I—"

His expression was soft, but serious. He dipped a corner of his napkin into his water cup and brought the damp cloth to her bodice. "I'll have you cleaned up in just a minute, Mrs. Briggs," he whispered. "It was all my fault, I assure you. I take full responsibility for any damage done to your gown."

"Jedwin, I—"

His eyes had left her now and were focused on the growing damp spot on the front of her blouse. Cora, too, lowered her eyes to watch the long masculine fingers so delicately wipe away the pale purple stain.

"I believe that's got it," he whispered finally as he removed the napkin. He laid it to the side and looked up into Cora's eyes.

He swallowed, hard.

Cora trembled.

He raised his hand again. This time, unhampered by the thick cotton napkin, Jedwin laid his hand on Cora's breast.

"You are so soft," he said quietly.

Cora laid her own hand upon his and pressed his flesh against hers. Jedwin felt the hard point of her nipple in his palm. He tenderly squeezed her breast again, before allowing his fingers to cautiously explore the stiffened nub.

"So soft," he whispered. "And so hard."

Her breath caught in her throat, Cora could no longer think. She could only feel. And what she felt was the warmth of Jedwin's hand caressing her bosom. Strangely, she wanted to remove her confining clothing and feel his nakedness upon her own. But she was also quaking in fear that the awakening man before her was one whom she could not control.

Would he soon have her lying here on a dirty floor in an abandoned house?

"Jedwin—" she pleaded, fear quivering in her voice.

He heard her fear. With one last tender caress, Jedwin moved his hand up across her shoulder to rub her shoulder blade. The he wrapped his arms around her. He edged her into his lap and rocked her as if she were a baby.

"Easy, easy, my sweetheart," he whispered. "I will never ask for more than you want to give."

Even as the strength of his arms and his tender words reassured her, Cora could feel the rigid evidence of his desire beneath her. Oh, how she wanted him. Oh, how she did not.

"You'd best let me up," Cora said, her common sense, carefully schooled by Mrs. Millenbutter, winning.

Once again she seated herself across from him and picked up a piece of bread from the tablecloth. She tore a delicate piece and placed it in her mouth, chewing purposefully. It tasted like sawdust.

A quietness fell between them.

"I'm sorry if I was crude, Mrs. Briggs," Jedwin said finally. "I acted on impulse and clearly I frightened you."

"You were not out of line, Jedwin," Cora answered with dignity. "Clearly, my meeting you in secret would lead you to believe that I am available to you. And I am."

Jedwin was quiet and swallowed nervously.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I do intend to allow you to bed me," she said bravely.

Stunned momentarily to silence, Jedwin searched his brain for an appropriate response. "Thank you," he said finally.

Cora waited. She had said that she would. Having spoken plainly, she was certain that Jedwin had understood. Yet he sat across from her. He made no attempt to touch her. He was not even looking at her.

To her amazement he rose to his feet and walked over to the fire, which he poked casually.

"Jedwin?"

He turned to look at her. His eyes were so wonderfully intense it nearly took her breath away.

"You do remember that I promised you a romance, Mrs. Briggs," he said. He made a careless gesture to the sparsely furnished, dirty room. "This is no romantic bower."

Cora looked at him, a strange fluttering within her. He was neither rough nor demanding. He was as frightened of his feelings as was she. He was giving her time. Giving himself time, and she was grateful.

"It's a beautiful old house though," she said.

Jedwin smiled at her. "Yes," he said. "It is."

More at ease, the two began packing up the picnic things. Soon they were back to blander topics. Cora asked him about the reaping and he talked at length about the tonnage of oats he thought to get and how much hay he'd already put up.

"I'd better let you get at it," she said finally. "Although I am truly loathe to leave. It's a wonderful place. It's just like taking a step into the past."

"I've always loved it. I've tried to pretend that I lived here since I was a boy. All my daydreams about my future have always centered around this house."

They stepped outside.

"What did you imagine?" she asked him.

"Oh," he said casually. "I always thought I'd put on an addition and then run a wide porch around two sides."

They both turned to look as he pointed. “I would add a full modern kitchen to the back," he said. "And it would give the house itself some better proportions."

Cora nodded, able to visualize his conception.

Jedwin chuckled self-consciously. "I used to imagine myself coming in from a hot day in the fields and having a whole flock of little children come running down from that porch hollering for me to see what they made or tattling on each other."

"You like children?" she asked.

"Having been raised by myself," he said, "I've always wanted just a huge household to feed."

Cora was quiet for a moment. Sorrowful. It wasn't much for a man to want, and for him everything was possible. "You could have that if you truly want."

Jedwin nodded. Slowly they began to walk hand in hand down the lane. "I'm trying to give more and more of the business to Haywood. I wish he'd buy me out, but Mama would surely have a fit at that."

"And if he did buy you out, you would come to live here? You would come here and grow flowers?"

"Eventually," Jedwin answered. "Oats and wheat first, then acres of flowers. That's really what I have in mind for the future."

"Then you should do it," Cora said firmly.

"I am." Jedwin's words were decisive. "But I needn't rush. I've got lots of time."

"Time for what?"

"Well, the woman I'm thinking to marry is still quite young. It'll be six or eight years before we can wed and start a family."

Cora felt a tiny catch in the center of her being. But she kept her voice light. "You are betrothed?"

"Oh no!" Jedwin assured her quickly. "I've not made any kind of declaration. I just have sort of picked out the girl that I think is most likely to suit me."