Marna (30 page)

In one swift movement he was on his feet, imprisoning her wrists with one hand, his other fastened in the
curls on top of her head. Jerking her head back, he
stared angrily into her startled eyes. Then suddenly his head came down and his lips fastened on hers.
Moving them urgently back and forth, he forced her mouth
open and thrust his tongue inside.

Marna struggled fiercely against him, twisting her
head and her body. But she was only drawn in tighter
as the kiss went on and on.

Suddenly the weakness she knew so well began in her
loins, and she struggled all the harder. This time she
would not give in to him. She would force herself to be
rigid and unfeeling.

She was unaware that Matt had purposely let her
struggle while he carefully steered her toward the bed,
until her knees came up against it. Her eyes flew open,
and she gathered her strength to do battle again, but his
hand came up and, with one tearing sweep, her gown
lay at her feet. Before she could catch her breath, she
was flat on her back in the feathery softness. She struggled to sit up, but he pushed her back. Then, straddling
her threshing legs, his hand fastened in her sheer
chemise and he ripped it away.

She grew still and gazed up at him. But when his lips
curled contemptuously as his eyes stabbed at her nakedness, she drew a sharp breath. This man, whom she
loved so deeply and so desperately, was going to degrade her with rape.

An anger such as she had never known threatened to
overwhelm her. In a voice that was icy cold, she
snapped, "Get off me."

Matt's strangely colored eyes flared wickedly as he
hung over her. "You don't mean that, whore," he
sneered. "You forget that I know how you like your
lovin'. Have you forgotten that night in the cabin?
Don't you remember how you clung to me, not wanting
to let go?" His hand stroked a breast. "Remember how
it was all night?"

She closed her eyes against his taunting words. "That
was when I loved you. I hate you now. I hate you with all my being. There is no way in this world I would ever
want you again."

A mocking light fought with the pain in Matt's eyes.
He dropped his head to her shoulder, whispering softly,
"Are you sure about that, Mama?"

Marna started to answer, then caught her breath as
his lips began to caress her throat and shoulders. Then
his head lay heavy on her breast and she was fighting
with everything in her to keep control. Tingling sensations were rushing through her, concentrating in her
nipples, turning them hard. She sought to cover them
with her hands, but Matt had seen them grow rigid, and
she blushed at his mocking smile.

She bit her lip to hold back her moan when he
moved his head a scant inch and took a taut nipple into
his mouth. When he curled his tongue around it, sucking slowly, gently, the blood began to drum in her ears.
As desire began to stir with a gathering force, she cried
silently, I will not give in. I will not let him know.
Frantically, she began to beat upon his back with
small, hard fists.

She realized that her blows meant nothing to him,
that he wasn't even aware of them as he trailed his lips
down her flat stomach. She leaned up on her elbows,
and at that moment Matt lifted his head and gazed at
her out of desire-ridden eyes.

"Do you still say that you don't want me?" he asked
huskily.

"Never!" she spat back at him.

Wordlessly he grasped her legs and raised them
around his shoulders. She threw herself back on the
bed, helpless tears running down her cheeks. Later, she
lay limp while he undressed, her eyes upon his muscular body with undisguised hunger. His eyes flared with
equal hunger. Sliding between her legs, he entered her
quickly. Then, slipping his hands beneath her buttocks,
he lifted her hips off the bed. Rising to his knees, he
began rhythmically stroking, thrusting, deep... deep.

Marna knew that he watched her face, waiting for
that glaze to come over her eyes. She closed them
tightly and fought the waves that threatened to almost
destroy her. But her body was stronger than her mind
and soon she was jerking spasmodically, her arms
reaching for him.

She felt his shuddering climax and received his dead
weight against her. It's over, she thought, and waited
for him to lift himself from her. But he only returned to
her breasts, moving his lips over them. She felt him
swelling inside her and waited in anticipation.

But this time Matt took her in anger, slamming at
her slender body as though he hated it for what it did to
him. Marna bit back her tears and suffered his onslaught in silence.

The fire went out, and gray light showed through the
windows. Still Matt did not release her. Her limp resistance to his brutality acted as a whip, urging him to
take her again and again.

Finally, when her outraged body could not take another thrust and her breasts were sore from his lips and
hands, she began to cry. "Please, Matt, no more. No
more."

And as though her tears had washed away the fury
that had driven him, he gazed down at her, almost in
surprise. For a moment she thought the hard eyes had
softened. She waited breathlessly for him to say he was
sorry.. .maybe even say that he loved her.

But if those words did hover on his lips, the chance
to say them slipped away. At that moment the door
opened and Hertha stepped inside.

Matt scrambled off Mania and grabbed his clothes.
"Hertha!" he gasped. "What are you doin' here?"

Hertha's lips wreathed in a welcoming smile. "I
might ask you the same thing, Matt, although it's your
right to be here."

Hertha glanced at her granddaughter. Seeing the
dark shadows under Marna's eyes, she thought, From the looks of Marna, he couldn't get enough of her.
Then, eyeing Matt sternly, she commented, "It's good
to see you back where you belong."

Marna lay quietly, seemingly unaware of Hertha's
words. But inside she was taut, waiting for her husband's answer.

Her heart turned over when he stated coolly, "I'll be
movin' on now, Grandma." Standing up and tucking his
shirt into his pants, he smiled at Hertha. "You've saved
me a long trip. I was just about to be on my way to the
hills to look you up."

"You were gonna look me up? What for?"

"We need medicine real bad at Valley Forge. The
soldiers are dyin' every day. Do you have any of your
roots and herbs with you?"

Hertha gave a dry snort. "You know I wouldn't go
anywhere without them, Matt."

"Good. Will you give me all you can spare?"

Hertha's birdlike eyes grew excited. "I'll do better
than that, Matt. I'll go back with you."

Marna's cry came across the room. "No, Grandma.
You can't go into a soldier's camp. You could be hurt,
or killed."

"I'm afraid she's right, Grandma," Matt said quietly,
dropping a hand to her bony shoulder. "That camp is
no place for a woman. Hell, we don't even have any
whores there."

Bristling, Hertha poked angrily at the fire. Then, setting the poker down, she looked stubbornly at Matt.
"You're gonna have a woman now. Me and Marna are
the only ones who know how to mix everything proper.
Without me, my roots and herbs are no good at all."

Matt studied the thin, stooped body and frowned.
Was she strong enough to doctor all those soldiers? He
grinned drily, remembering she had been strong enough
to put up with Emery all these years. She'd probably
stand up better than all the rest of them put together.

He squeezed her shoulder and said, "All right,
Grandma, if you insist. It won't be easy, though. Half
the time there's not enough to eat."

When Hertha answered, "That won't bother me
none," Marna begged again, "Please, Grandma, don't
go.

"Now, Marna, you hush up," Hertha said, an edge of
irritation in her voice. "It'll do me good to be useful
again. I haven't mentioned it, but I've been close to
goin' crazy with nothin' to do around here."

She moved to the bed and sat down. Smoothing back
Marna's sweated, tangled curls, she spoke soothingly.
"I'll be all right, honey. Matt will see to it that nothin'
happens to me." Glancing up at Matt standing beside
the lire, rubbing his bristly chin, she smiled. "Matt,
directly across the hall is my room. In the top dresser
drawer you'll find a razor. Go and have yourself a
shave."

Matt hesitated, then nodded his head. "Can you be
ready by the time I get back? Them boys need your
medicine as soon as possible."

Hertha assured him she'd be ready in no time.

When Matt returned, his face smooth and his hair
brushed neatly, Hertha and Marna were engrossed in a
whispered conversation. Hertha rose hurriedly, mumbling that she would get her paraphernalia together and
be ready to leave whenever he was.

The room grew quiet, the only sound an occasional
gust of wind rattling the windows. Then the breath
caught in Marna's throat as Matt approached the bed.
This time she was sure there was a softness in his eyes,
and her heart leapt at the thought of what he might say.
He had just sat down on the edge of the bed and
reached for her hand when voices sounded outside the
door. He rose to his feet as the door swung open. She
wanted to cry when her father strode in, Hertha at his
heels.

Matt's eyes flashed over his hated enemy, quickly
taking in the fact that the robust man wore only a robe
and that he hadn't knocked before entering. His eyes
full of scorn for Marna and for himself, he jerked his
coat off a chair and shrugged into it. His hand on the
doorknob, he turned, and in a voice harsh with his
jealousy, sneered at Egan, "She won't do you any good
for a while. I rode the hell out of her all night."

He slammed the door on Marna's anguished cry.

Remorse hit Matt when he came out on the street and
saw Sam standing dejectedly in the cold. He raised a fist
and shook it in the direction of Marna's window. The
beautiful bitch had even driven his horse's welfare from
his mind. Never before had he ever neglected the animal. He was looking around for a stable when the back
door opened and Hertha joined him. Her eyes fell on
the shivering animal, and she clucked her tongue in
sympathy.

"Take him around back to the stables, Matt. We'll
give him a good feed while I have Jake's man saddle
my mare."

Sam stuck his head eagerly into the bucket of warm
mash set before him. By the time Hertha's mount was
saddled and the bag of "woodland cure" was settled on
its back, the stallion had finished the mash and was
guzzling water from the trough just outside the stables.

They were almost ready to leave when Matt spied the
stack of woolen horse blankets on a shelf. A smile of
grim satisfaction lit his face. "I know some fellows who
will appreciate these," he muttered, stripping the shelves
clean.

Tying half of them on Sam's back, he fastened the
rest behind Hertha's saddle. He turned and glared at
the roustabout who had taken a threatening step toward
him. "That's Jake South's contribution to the war,"
Matt growled, boosting Hertha into the saddle. As he
swung onto the stallion's back, the stable hand looked
at him bemusedly. Who in the blazes was Jake South?

The man decided that he wouldn't question the wild looking hunter. He didn't like the looks of that broad
knife stuck in his belt.

Meanwhile, Hertha hid her pleased smile. Matt was
hurtin' good. As they rode out of the stable yard, she
stated quietly, "Jake's not a bad sort, Matt. You're
gonna find that out someday."

Matt's answer was short, "Hah!" and a swift jab to
his mount's flank. The startled animal bolted and raced
down the street. Hertha laughed and followed him at
her own careful pace. Let the fool break his neck if he
wanted to. She wanted to hang on to life a little while
longer.

After a run of a few miles, Matt reined in the sweating horse and waited for Hertha to catch up. He
grinned at her sheepishly, and they rode on at a leisurely trot. Matt rode in silence, his head lowered, the
reins loose in his hands. Hertha, her head muffled in
a heavy scarf, kept her silence also. She knew what was
on Matt's mind, and she knew that he must thrash it
out in his own way and time.

Hertha lifted her chin and breathed deep of the
sharp, tangy air. It was good to be leaving the city
behind and returning to her beloved wilderness. The
bustling city was no longer for her. She had been away
from it too long.

Mama didn't like it either, she knew. The girl paced
the apartment all day, moving from window to window.
The long sighs she uttered said plainer than words how
much she missed her Kentucky hills.

Hertha glanced at Matt's broad back and wanted to
shake him. It was all his fault they were stuck in that
noisy city. He had disrupted all their lives, including his
own. The mule-headed jackass. Always jumping to the
wrong conclusion. Well, she for one would never say
the few words that would explain everything to him. He
must come to his own terms. Acknowledge to himself
that he loved Marna enough to forgive her anything. In
her opinion that was the true test of love.