Indigo Blue (38 page)

He left the sentence unfinished. Even if she had tried to move, she couldn’t have. His right arm was like a vise around her. Feeling weak, she leaned her head back. He sank with her into the water to rinse the soap from her skin. The cold curled around her, but his heat held the bite of it at bay. His mouth found hers, his lips wet and cool, yet laced with fire. She moaned when his tongue touched hers. The world went into a spin, the sky, the water, the trees all blurring in a kaleidoscope of color. Then he slid his hand from her belly to her breast.

Hardened against the cold, her nipple was shocked by the warmth of his palm. His fingertips felt like fire when they clasped the rigid peak. She whimpered at the jolt of sensation that zigzagged through her. In the back of her mind, she knew she should at least try to twist away, but she couldn’t find the strength of will to make herself do it. He was making her feel so wonderful, weak and trembly, deliciously warm yet shivering.

He lifted his head, momentarily freeing her mouth. On a jagged breath, he whispered, “My God, you’re precious.”

Entrapped by the tangled sensations erupting inside her, she couldn’t find her voice. Jake looked down at the stunned expression on her small face and smiled as another shiver ran over her. With her head tipped back, he could see the wild pulse in her throat. He hated to shatter the mood, but it was too damned cold to make love to her in the creek.

Reluctantly, he moved his hand from her breast and bent to gather her into his arms. Water streamed from their bodies as he carried her from the stream and up the bank. He knew the exact moment when passion lost its hold on her. Her body snapped taut, and she curled an arm around his neck, straining to see.

Jake covered ground fast, his aim to get her into bed as quickly as he could, before she had too much time to think. Despite his haste, she looked wide-eyed and wary when he carried her through the house and into the bedroom. Not that he was surprised. She was innocent, not stupid. When he lowered her feet to the floor beside the bed, she tried to move away.

“Oh, no,” he said huskily. “Not this time.”

Ignoring the alarm on her face, he grasped her chemise. She foiled his attempt to disrobe her by hugging her breasts.

“Indigo . . .” After her reaction to him in the creek, he knew she was ready; she just didn’t understand the signals her body was sending her. “Raise your arms, sweetheart.”

She stared up at him. For a moment, he thought she might choose now, of all times, to disobey him. But after a moment, she did as he asked. He jerked the chemise up to her elbows, left it there to entangle her arms, and bent his head to her breasts as he lowered her to the bed. The instant his mouth homed in on its target, she gasped and bucked with her hips, flailing to get her arms free from the wet muslin. Sensing her panic, he drew back.

“Whoa,” he soothed. “Just be still.” He peeled the dripping muslin off over her hands. “There, you see? There’s no need to feel frantic.”

Her huge blue eyes sought his through the evening gloom. He could feel her breasts swelling against his chest with every breath, and the longing he felt was so sharp, he shook from it.

“Jake?” she squeaked. She strained to swallow, then licked her lips. “Y-you’re getting our bed wet.”

Her attempt to distract him was so obvious that he would have chuckled had there been a trace of humor left in him. “I don’t give a damn about the bed.”

Her eyes grew rounder. “What are you going to do to me?”

Indigo knew, of course. The smoldering heat of his gaze left her in no doubt. Her numb brain registered her nakedness and the warmth of his chest against her breasts. The breadth of his glistening bronze shoulders filled her vision.

“I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered silkily. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise you that.”

And with that pronouncement, he began.

He started off with a kiss that stole her breath. An airless pounding began in her temples, and dread built within her. His heartbeat, quick and hard, thrummed through her. He slid a hand over her hip. She knew by the rigidity in his body and the fast sound of his breathing that he wasn’t going to stop.

She wrenched her mouth from his, wanting the kind, gentle Jake she knew, not this hungry, frenzied man who was squashing her into the feather mattress. “A-are you g-going to hurt me?”

“I’ll tell you before that happens. Trust me, honey.”

Trust him? Indigo strained to keep her mouth away from his.

When he had made several unsuccessful attempts to kiss her, he raised his head. “Indigo, look at me,” he whispered.

She forced herself to comply.

“I want to make this beautiful for you.”

Indigo didn’t see how pain could be made beautiful.

“Have I ever deliberately hurt you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then trust me now,” he urged in a husky voice. “Just lie back and trust me.”

Just lie back? Franny had said that.
Just lie back in a field of daisies. It’ll be over before you know it.
Indigo closed her eyes. Daisies. A huge field of daisies. A gentle breeze. And warm sunshine on her face. Ah, yes, daisies. Daisies and birds singing. Daisies and the babbling of a nearby brook. Daisies and Jake’s tongue teasing the tip of her nipple.

Her eyes flew open, and she gasped. Making fists in his hair, she gave him a violent shove. “Don’t!” she cried. “Please, don’t, Jake. I—I can’t think when you do that.”

“I don’t want you to think,” he informed her in a husky voice and lowered his head again.

Before he found his mark, she protected it with a cupped hand and wailed, “But—Jake, that’s—I can’t—how can I think about daisies when you do stuff like that?”

He pushed up on an arm and gazed into her eyes. “Daisies?”

Too late, Indigo realized what she had said. Taking a huge gulp of air, she clamped a hand over her other breast.

“What daisies?” he demanded.

From the expression on his face, she didn’t think he was going to like her answer.

“Indigo,” he persisted. “What daisies?”

“Franny’s daisies,” she blurted. “It’s nothing, really. Just a way for me to bear up.”

She could see that had been the wrong thing to say. He drew away and arched a black eyebrow. “Bear up?”

Indigo searched frantically for a way to explain. “While you’re—you know—so it won’t be so awful.”

A curious glint crept into his umber eyes. He studied her for a moment. “Awful? Indigo, start at the beginning. Who the hell is Franny, and what daisies are you talking about?”

With more than a little reluctance, Indigo told him about her fears of making love, her consequent visit with Franny, and the advice she had been given. Jake rolled off her and draped a muscular arm over his brow.

“That day under the oak tree—you were thinking about daisies, then, too. Weren’t you?”

Indigo averted her gaze and plucked nervously at the chenille. “No, about Lobo. Franny’s daisies didn’t work.”

“Franny, the little blonde?” With a low laugh, he said, “You went to a—” He groaned. “Indigo, why in God’s name did you ask Franny, of all people, for advice?”

She jerked the bedspread over herself and put some distance between them. “She’s an expert?” she ventured.

“She’s that, I guess. Has anyone else given you any advice I should know about?”

Indigo felt pretty certain he was angry with her for discussing something so personal with her friend. “No one else would talk to me,” she admitted. “Ma just says never mind.”

He lowered his arm a bit to peer out at her with a dangerously narrowed eye. “Did you ever consider coming to me?”

She sputtered at that. “I couldn’t talk to
you
about it!”

“Why not? We’re talking about it now.” He sighed. “Honey, if you’re worried about something like that, you should come to me. At least that way I know what your concerns are. How can I deal with something if you hide it from me?”

Indigo didn’t want to be dealt with. Especially not by him. She stared at the bulging muscle in his chest, the rippling tracks across his belly, the dark swath of hair that ran in a dark triangle to the waistband of his jeans. Dealt with?

“I—you—it’s not something you
talk
about. It’s—” She wished with all her heart he would stop looking at her. He made her feel like a bug in a jar. “It’s not ladylike.”

“You aren’t supposed to be a lady with me,” he replied gently. “I’m your husband, and there’s nothing you should feel uncomfortable telling me. What if something goes wrong inside you and you need to see the doctor? Franny can’t take you.”

Heat flooded Indigo’s face. “I reckon I’d just go.”

“And pay for the visit with what?” The slashes at the corners of his mouth deepened. “You’re going to have to be open with me. And I think right now is a good time to start.”

She thought next week would be better, maybe next month.

He rolled onto his side, and propped his head on the heel of his hand. She jerked when he grasped the bedspread, then felt foolish when all he did was tuck the edges around her.

“I wish you had told me how frightened you were at the first. As it is, you’ve worried needlessly all this time. I could have told you what to expect and eased your mind.”

“I’m not frightened exactly,” she inserted in a quavery voice. “It’d be more correct to say I’m unenthusiastic. It’s sort of like tapioca—some people are wild about it, and others gag at the thought.”

He brushed a knuckle over her chin, his eyes crinkling at the corners with what looked like amusement. “I’m going to tell you what to expect now, okay?”

That was the last thing she wanted. “I already know.”

His mouth twitched. “I see. And what font of wisdom do I have to thank for that? Franny again?”

“No, of course not.” She stared at a point just below his larynx. “Once I saw two cougars do it.”

“Marvelous,” he said beneath his breath. “If they go at it like house cats do, no wonder you’re trembling. Honey—”

Before he could launch into a description, she inserted, “And Useless! I’ve seen him with the sows lots of times. And one time my uncle Swift put his stallion in with Molly. He sent me to the house, but I heard enough to know she didn’t like it.”

“What if I were to promise you that you will like it?”

She lowered her lashes and tried to think of a delicate way to answer. “I’d think maybe—” She licked her lips. “Not that you’d stretch the truth or anything, but—”

He laughed under his breath. “Indigo, what purpose would it serve if I fibbed? In a few minutes, you’ll find out for yourself. Then what?”

“It wouldn’t matter then. I’d have already let you.”

“Once,” he amended. “What about after?”

Indigo sincerely hoped once would do it.

He toyed with her hair, his touch sending shivers down her neck. “I promise you’re going to love it. Does that ease your mind any?” He feathered a fingertip across her lips. The ticklish sensation made her want to scratch with her teeth. “The first time, there’ll be some discomfort. There’s a fragile barrier inside you”—he dipped his fingertip to touch the moist inside of her bottom lip—“that will tear when I enter you. The pain will only last a few seconds, and then you’ll feel nothing but pleasure. There’ll be a tiny bit of blood—from the torn membrane—so don’t be alarmed when you see it.”

At the mention of blood, Indigo bolted to a sitting position, clutching frantically at the bedspread. “I don’t think—I’m dying for a drink of water suddenly. Aren’t you?”

“We just crawled out of a whole creek full of water,” he reminded her in a warm voice.

“Nonetheless, I feel parched.”

He trailed a fingertip up her bare arm. “As soon as we’re finished, I’ll bring you a dipper and a whole bucket of water.”

She jerked the spread over her shoulder so her arm was covered. When he touched her, her skin prickled everywhere. “There’s no need. I’ll grab a drink on the way to the privy.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’ll be hungry next?”

That was a thought. “You know, I—” She broke off when she saw the knowing twinkle in his eyes. “It’s easy for you to laugh,” she accused. “It won’t be awful for you.”

Somehow he had worked a hand under the bedspread. He ran a fingertip down her calf, then traced her instep. She found it difficult to breathe. She fastened pleading eyes on his.

“It won’t be awful for you, either,” he whispered. “I promise.”

In a low voice, he started describing exactly what he was going to do to her. Indigo wasn’t surprised to hear her worst fears confirmed. “Are you absolutely bent on it?” she asked.

His hand slid to the back of her knee, then along her thigh. The heat of his touch made panic well within her. She tried to swallow it down as his fingertips climbed higher.

“Honey, let me start, okay? If we get to a part that’s awful, you just tell me, hm?”

His hand came dangerously close to the apex of her thighs. Black memories flashed in her mind—things she tried never to think about—of cruel hands grabbing at her, of digging, brutal fingers. Sweat beaded on her scalp and forehead. Her heart started to slam, and she felt as if she might get sick.

Before she could stop the words, she cried, “It’ll be too late then.” A sob knifed through her chest, bringing a sharp pain like when she swallowed air. Only it wasn’t air; she couldn’t breathe. “You won’t stop! I know what you’ll do.”

His hand stilled and curled warmly around her thigh. “What will I do?”

“You’ll just keep on. Even when it hurts. You—” She stared down at him. “You won’t care how it feels for me. And since you’re bigger, I won’t be able to make you quit.”

A question crept into his eyes. “Indigo, think rationally about this. Think of all the thousands—millions—of women who make love. A blind person can see how your ma adores your father. Would she love him if he did awful things to her?”