Carolyn Davidson (12 page)

“You all right, Cass?” Will’s arm went across her shoulders as he bent in her direction.

Her eyes fluttering open, she shook her head. “I’m fine. Just shivered a little.”

He dragged her closer, his hand dropping to her waist for leverage, till she was scooted tightly against his hip. “I’ll keep you warm, Mrs. Tolliver,” he told her with a grin. And then he sobered. “Feel better, honey, about getting married and everything?”

If she could tell him, if she could be honest with the man who’d given her his name, she wouldn’t feel so much as if
she was skating on thin ice, she decided. But her smile was determinedly bright as she nodded her agreement.

And if she knew for sure that Will felt more for her than an appreciation of her body and a tender regard for her well-being, she’d be a whole lot happier.

It had been a shopping trip, in fact. The general store in Greenbush, though not stocked with the very latest from Paris, managed to have a reasonably good choice in nightclothes. Once he’d gotten past the flannel, beyond the practical cotton, into the realm of fine batiste and lawn, Will had begun to sweat The final choice was a filmy delight in pale blue, a color he felt would complement Cassie’s eyes, although he wasn’t sure she’d allow him to have a light burning by which to compare the two.

If Many Fingers or Clara raised an eyebrow at the lack of purchases when Will carried one small bundle from the buggy upon their return, it was not noticeable. Arriving too late for supper, Will and Cassie sat at the kitchen table beneath the kerosene lantern, eating leftovers.

Food was the very least of Will’s priorities tonight. Having taken care of the last of the chores, getting his new bride up the stairs and into his bed headed his list And from the look on Cassie’s face, she would be dragging her feet all the way.

Before they ate she wanted to go to the barn to see the new foal. Then, after checking out the filly, she had to look in on a mare who was pacing the area of her stall, contemplating the imminent birth of her youngster, if Many Fingers was to be believed.

Eating was a time-consuming chore, Cassie spending long minutes on devouring a chicken leg, then poking at her plateful of vegetables, which Clara had left on the back of the stove. The cornbread required butter and syrup, Cassie
relishing each bite. Finally she drank down a glass of milk and, pushing her chair from the table, announced it was time to check on Maggie before bedtime.

Will left his seat and circled the table. His arms found their way around her waist, his hands clasping at her back. “Maggie’s probably sound asleep.” He bent low to whisper the words against her ear, and she shivered at the sensation. His grin was wide, and he nuzzled her neck, pleased at her response. A wedding night was something he’d not spent a lot of time considering in years gone by, but the past week had given him much food for thought.

He’d answered all of her excuses neatly, he thought. The final hurdle was getting past his mother, and she had conveniently sought out her rocker in the parlor, her hands busy with a shawl she was crocheting.

There wasn’t one good reason on God’s green earth why he couldn’t sashay his bride up the stairs and make his wedding night a reality.

That he would no doubt visit pain upon her small body was a fact he could not help but dread. Only the sure knowledge that he could also bring her a great deal of pleasure made him eager to hustle her up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Cassie? Are you frightened of me?”

She shook her head and her lashes fluttered open, her eyes wide as she opened her mouth to speak. “No…not really.”

His grin was immediate. “Now, that’s a statement of trust if I ever heard one,” he told her in a soft whisper.

“I’m not afraid,” she protested. “I just don’t know what you’ll want me to do.”

“You’ll figure it out as we go along,” he assured her with a grin. Then he sobered as he reached over the table to turn down the wick on the lamp.

The light dimmed and the kitchen became a shadowed and quiet place, Will moving to join her near the door. “Ready to go up, honey?”

She nodded her head and he caught the movement in the faint light that glowed from the parlor. She turned from him and paused at the double doors across the hall.

“Good night, Mrs. Tolliver,” she said through the doorway.

Clara looked up over the rims of her spectacles. “Going to bed already?” she asked, glancing at the mantel clock.

“It’s been a long day, Ma,” Will put in quickly. “I’ve got a man coming tomorrow with a new stallion for us to take a look at.”

Clara shrugged and slid her glasses back into place, looking down at her lapful of pink and magenta yarn. “I’ll see the both of you in the morning, then.”

With one hand at Cassie’s waist, he turned her to the stairs and guided her up to the second floor.

The bedroom had never looked so small, with the bed taking up so much room, Cassie thought with a sense of desperation. Will had spread something on the white coverlet and she eyed it with apprehension as she crossed the room. In the light of the candle Will lit and carried to the bedside table, it looked to be a gown, pale blue and edged with fine lace.

“Take a look at it, Cassie. I bought it for you.” She lifted it from the bed. “This is for me?” He nodded, waving at the screen in the corner. “Want to try it on? See how it fits?” He grinned as she hesitated. “Or if you want to, I’ll help you put it on right here.”

“No!” She shook her head, a violent motion, clutching the fragile fabric to her chest. She moved quickly to the screen and behind it, her breathing rapid, her cheeks flushed
with a blend of excitement and embarrassment. Surely such a garment as this was more suitable to a boudoir than this farmhouse bedroom.

But if Will had paid good money for it, she’d at least try it on. She owed him that much. Her fingers busy with buttons and strings, she stripped from her clothing, then snatched at the gown, pulling it over her head quickly, as if she must don it before she could change her mind. She pulled it down, luxuriating in the soft caress of fine fabric, the whisper of cobweb-soft material falling into place. The hem brushed just above her knees and no amount of gentle tugging was going to make it any longer. Biting at her bottom lip, she peered around the corner of the screen. Will was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her, his eyes alight with what looked suspiciously like anticipation.

“Will?”

“Yeah, Cassie?” She could stand it should he smile his pleasure, but not if his grin was amusement at her expense.

“It’s awfully short, Will.”

He rose, taking three long strides in her direction, his eyes gleaming darkly in the candle glow. They traveled slowly over her form, and never had she felt so small and helpless. With a look of pure hunger he allowed his gaze to fasten on the expanse of bare flesh at her throat, then travel in minute increments down the front of her body.

She lifted a hand to the top of the washstand, her fingers pressing against the wood until her nails were white with the pressure. Her breath caught in her throat and she heard a soft whimper escape. Surely not from her? And yet it seemed that it had—that unbidden sound of fear, or perhaps anticipation, had been born in her throat and had escaped her trembling lips.

“It’s supposed to fit like that,” he told her.

She looked down at herself, at the taut, swelling shape
of her breasts, the shadowed dip where her belly button hid from view and her long, bare legs beneath the abbreviated hem.

And then she glanced up again at Will, at the flushed line of his cheek, the flare of his nostrils and the clenching of his jaw. His eyes glowed with a light she could only describe to herself as avid, his whole being seemingly reined and held in check.

“Please wear it for me, Cassie.” It didn’t even sound like Will’s voice, this husky exhalation of breath that rang harshly in her ears, as if he’d used up all the tenderness he had to spare.

She nodded, caught in the spell he wove, his hands fisted by his sides, his body almost visibly pulsing in a vibrant wave of desire.

As if that small tilting of her head were the signal he had awaited, he moved. His hands rose to touch her and the fists became long, tapering fingers and broad palms, resting against her body with subtle strength as he lifted her into his arms. He swung her easily against his chest and she looked up into his face.

He was solemn, his lips parted in a feral expression, teeth together and jaw rigid, perhaps seized with the same emotion she had only begun to sense within her own body.

Lifting one hand to brush his unyielding jaw, she met his gaze. Then, pulling his head lower, she found herself caught up in the damp wonder of his kiss.

W
ill pulled the bedcovers back, leaving them rumpled, half on the floor. The pillows skidded helter-skelter across the bottom sheet, and he barely noticed the disarray as the mattress received the woman he held in his arms. So long as Cassie was within its depths, he didn’t give a hang for the condition of the bed or its bedding.

Will’s eyes devoured her, then focused on the wonder of her hair, primly wound at the back of her head, only a few strands escaping the pins. His fingers itched to remove the restraints, and he bent over her, one hand on either side of her.

“Are you going to undress, too?” she asked.

His grin came easily, easing the tension. “I reckon that’d make us even, wouldn’t it?” Straightening, he began the task of undoing his shirt, allowing it to fall over his trousers. “I need to wash up a little, honey.”

She watched him, her scrutiny only adding to his arousal, and he turned his back, stripping the clothing from his body. Standing before the washstand, he bathed quickly, not daring to frighten her with the burgeoning tumescence he could not hope to hide should he turn to face her.

The towel he dried with was the concealment he needed,
and he held it in his hands, allowing it to drape across his belly and below as he returned to the bed.

Her cheeks were rosy, more flushed than before, the candlelight revealing a warmth in her perusal he had only hoped for. Within him, the yearning to see her without the covering of the flimsy gown she wore battled with his sensibilities.

Cassie’s innocence won and he leaned to blow out the candle, only then dropping the towel to the floor before he lowered himself to the mattress.

He rolled, lifting himself above her, his forearms receiving his weight as he framed her face with his palms. He bent, burying his face against her, inhaling the glorious scent that was so much a part of her, that faintly seductive fragrance he’d designated in his mind as being Cassie’s own.

It resembled the taste of her, that sweet yet spicy tang that met his tongue each time he dared to sample her mouth. His fingers spreading wide, he loosened the twisted coils of her hair, closing his eyes as he buried his hands in its shining length. Dark strands twined about his fingers, and as would corn silk, they clung to his skin. Like the finest spiderwebs, they floated on the air as he drew his fingers from their captivity.

One by one he plucked the pins from their hiding places within the dark strands. They fell from his fingers and he brushed the sheet, sending them to the floor.

Once more he bent to her, his lips against her throat, his hand sweeping the fall of hair back to bare the tender flesh to his caress. Opening his mouth, he tasted her, suckling just a bit, careful lest he mar the perfection of her skin. The temptation to leave his mark on her was almost beyond his ability to resist, and with reluctance he eased from her.

The moon was full, bathing her in its radiance streaming
through the window. He watched as her eyes opened, her hand rising to touch the dampness he left behind, and then she spoke his name. It vibrated in his ears, the soft, subtle sound of her whispered call.

“Will?”

Easing his arms beneath her, he cradled her, his lips seeking hers, a small mating that did little to satisfy his primitive need for the greater merging that was to come. She met him with an eagerness he had not expected, opening to the touch of his teeth and tongue, allowing his ownership.

Moving on, from her brow to the tip of her chin, he plotted his course, ever aware of the delicate flesh he branded with mouth and tongue. Her lashes fluttered against his mouth and he bathed her eyelids with the tip of his tongue.

Cassie laughed, a soft, seductive sound, manna to his hungry soul, and then as he drew back, her eyes opened, a languid revealing of dark pools. She focused on him and smiled. “You didn’t kiss me this way before, Will.”

“We’re married now, Cass,” he told her, his voice low, rasping in his throat, as if the words strained to be spoken.

“I feel like my bones are all soft inside my skin,” she whispered, her tongue swiping once at her upper lip.

It was almost his undoing, that small pink bit of flesh he’d only begun to include in his love play. “Do that again,” he said.

She blinked at him, shaking her head. “Do what? What did I do, Will?”

“Better yet,” he told her with a smile, “brush your tongue against my mouth. I want to see how it feels.”

It felt wonderful, better than he’d dreamed, and with a groan of passion unleashed he turned to his side, drawing her with him, pulling her leg to rest atop his hip.

His palm flat against her back, he pressed her closer. The softness of her belly received his arousal and he stifled the urge to thrust against her. Cassie’s indrawn breath, a measure of her surprise, called for soothing, and soothe her he did, his hand moving in a circular motion between her shoulder blades, then shifting to brush gently against her hips.

She whimpered once, stiffening against him as his hand sought the rounding of her bottom, and he hushed her, whispering nonsense in her ear, his kisses soft and gentle until she relaxed once more beneath his touch.

It was bliss, undeniably a touch of heaven, and his very being sang with the joy she brought him, his hopeful heart finally sensing the beginning of her surrender.

Lifting himself on his elbow, he surveyed the gown she wore. Covering the curves of her breasts, it was a hindrance, and his fingers worked at the buttons. Unfastening his trousers with one hand had never been a problem, yet these small pearl fastenings resisted his attempts, and he shook his head at his own ineptness.

“Undo your gown, Cassie,” he whispered, then watched as she lifted her hands to do his bidding. He inhaled sharply, then, rolling her gently to her back, he hovered over her, resting on his forearms.

Her breasts, uncovered, rounded and full, lured him and he watched as his long, tanned and callused fingers brushed against the pale flesh. He smiled as she shivered, and reveled in her soft intake of breath. His palm fit beneath one breast, and it molded to the curve of his hand. Ripe and firm, it was barely contained by his grasp, and he shifted his gentle hold until his index finger and thumb tested the small crumpled bit of flesh he’d yearned to possess. It tightened beneath his touch and he bent to brush the tip of his tongue against the textured crest. Carefully his mouth took
it within its depths, and he suckled it gently against his tongue, tugging it deeper.

Cassie looked down at herself, to where that clever mouth loved her with such thorough care. “I can hardly hold still, Will.” Her voice was high, whimpering as she lifted her head from the pillow.

“Wiggle if you want to, honey. There’s only you and me here, and I suspect I’d enjoy your wiggles more than I can tell you.” His words were muffled against her flesh, and then he released her to lift himself higher, his skin sliding across the curves of her breasts.

She let out her breath slowly, her breasts tingling from the rough texture of hair and firm muscle. They felt swollen, pulsing with a need she began to recognize, and she rose against him, craving a closer contact with his body that her gown would not allow.

It was twisted and tangled around her bottom, and he rose to his knees over her, his hands careful lest he tear the fragile stuff as he stripped it from her. “Ah, Cassie…” His gaze traveled her length as he knelt between her thighs. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice raspy as he sat back on his heels. “Just let me touch you, baby.”

She held her breath as his fingers spread to span the width of her belly, his thumb caressing the shallow dip of her belly button. A flash of warmth seared her at his touch and she flinched, then eased back to test the small pleasure of his knowing caress. He smiled down at her, the pad of his thumb moving in a circular fashion, and she shifted, her hips rising.

His hands moved upward, and her flesh tingled at the brush of callused fingers. And then she felt twin sensations of pleasure as he enclosed each breast with a wide hand, brushing the tender peaks with his fingers, squeezing and tugging, watching with a rapt expression on his face.

“You’re blooming right in front of my eyes, Cass,” he whispered, those dark orbs barely visible beneath his lowered lashes.

She felt a flush of delight warm her flesh as he bent to suckle, first at one breast then the other, the drawing and tugging of his mouth bringing to life a new, curling need in the depths of her belly. Her hips rose, that secret place where her thighs joined brushed against him, and she jolted with the sensation as his body rubbed gently against her.

Rising above her again, he molded her flesh, his hands firm against her breasts, her waist, squeezing the fullness of her hips and then grasping with gentle strength the tops of her legs. He lifted them, draping her over his thighs until she was vulnerable to his touch, his gaze intent on her face, as if he would gauge her willingness.

Then his index finger traced the folds of flesh he had exposed, and she flinched. He hesitated for just a moment until she softened once more, moving, shifting beneath his seeking hand.

That she would allow such intimacies was beyond her wildest imaginings. That her modesty would fall so easily before Will’s coaxings was unbelievable. Yet, knowing in her heart of hearts that Will Tolliver would bring her only what was right and good in this marriage bed, she allowed whatever he willed to happen.

The lure of her submission was almost his undoing as, warm and damp, her woman’s flesh opened to him, and he swallowed a groan of frustration. And then Cassie’s eyelids rose and she smiled, a tempting turn of her mouth, a twitch of her pursed lips, then a glimpse of white teeth as she regarded him in the light shed by the moon outside the window.

“Will…You make me feel…”

“What, Cassie? How do you feel?” The words growled
from his throat and he eased forward just a bit, shivering as hard flesh touched soft woman.

Her eyes widened. “Don’t hurt me.” Her whisper was breathless and he swallowed, holding himself still, fighting the urge to bury himself within her depths.

“I’m afraid there’s not much either of us can do about it, sweetheart,” he said sadly, torn between the knowledge that he would surely tear her tender flesh and the terrible need to do that very thing.

“Hold on to me, baby.” The admonition was delivered between gritted teeth and he bent over her, waiting until she lifted her arms to surround his shoulders. His body shifted, one hand guiding his arousal as he pressed carefully, invading the untried flesh.

Her hands were frantic as she clutched at him, her head twisting against the pillow, and he held his breath, shuddering as he pushed within her. The fragile barrier gave way and he groaned, fearful of the pain he visited upon her virgin body.

“It burns,” she whispered, gasping as her inner muscles clamped against his length.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he muttered, his words broken as he caught deep breaths. Great shudders racked his frame as he resisted the urge to thrust, and he moved with deliberate care as he penetrated that heretofore forbidden place within her.

He flinched at hurting her, and yet she reached for him again, her arms circling his waist, pulling him closer, as though she must comfort him, assure him of her forgiveness.

“Cassie!” He called her name in a sharp, expectant tone, drawing her with him, as if they journeyed a path he hesitated to take alone, and she nodded, her eyes meeting his in the dim light.

For long seconds, while Will moved against her with careful yet eager thrusts, she held him, fingers spread wide across his back, blending their bodies as she would their souls. Her mouth open against his shoulder, her tears hot against his skin, she clung, wrapping herself in the sanctuary his body provided.

Despite her inexperience, she knew that Will had made her his wife. Knew that all of the kissing, the touching, the words of praise he’d whispered against her flesh had only been the beginning. That at this moment, when she held his manhood within her, she’d become a woman, a part of the man she had married.

Will stood at the window, just out of the path of moonlight, his guilt weighing heavily. His glance at the bed did nothing to relieve his tension. The sight of Cassie, tearstains gleaming against her cheeks as she slept, was like a sword in his heart.

He’d tried to hold back, his teeth still aching from the endeavor. And yet he’d hurt her. The towel he’d had the good sense to scoop from the floor held bright splotches of her blood, and he’d found another to spread beneath her, lest the sheets bear stains that would expose the lie he’d lived for the past week.

If Cassie ever let him near her again, it would be a miracle. She’d been so small and he was so dang big, and it had been longer than he could remember since he’d found release in a woman’s body. Now there wasn’t another female alive in his memory, only the soft cries and whispers of his wife filling those spaces in his mind.

He’d botched it. Worse than that, he’d probably scared her off for good. His groan was heartfelt, audible in the silence of the night.

“Will?” She called him from the bed and he stood erect,
turning a bit to shield her from the sight of his flagrant arousal. Thinking of her had brought him to a full, brazen readiness, and he shook his head at the evidence of his masculine need.

“Will…come here. I feel awfully alone in this bed.”

He squinted at her in the moonlight, the tearstains still apparent against her cheeks. Yet there was about her a gleaming radiance that owed little to the glow shed by the moon outside the window. She reached a hand to him and he uttered a low sound, a blend of petition and thanks.

“Cassie.” Somehow he’d reached the bed. Someway he’d managed to enclose her in his arms and, wonder of wonders, she was clinging to him and spending rash kisses over his face.

“Will, I woke up and you were gone.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I thought you were upset with me…because I cried.”

He rocked her, leaning to brush his jaw against her hair, grasping a handful to expose the beautiful woman he’d had the intelligence to marry today. After all the mistakes he’d made in his life, he’d finally done one thing right.