Midnight Rose (8 page)

“But you eventually made it, or you wouldn’t have learned the valse. Or did you make that up to tease me?”

“Why would I do a thing like that?” He frowned at such absurdity. “Of course I learned it over there. You caught on very quickly, by the way. We’ll have to try it again sometime. I enjoy shocking people too,” he teased.

She saw the mischievous gleam in his eye, sensed he had a rebellious streak, and she liked that—a lot. “I envy you,” she said then, “being a man and able to travel to faraway places, do anything you want to do. I’d love to be so free.”

“You should be able to afford to go anywhere you want to. I hear your stepfather is quite well off.”

“I don’t want to spend his money,” she said quickly, sharply, then hastened to explain, “My mother wouldn’t hear of me traveling alone. That’s what I mean about envying you. Men can do anything they want to.”

“Well, maybe one day you’ll marry a man who likes to travel as much as you do.”

She laughed, a soft, wistful sound. “If I wait till then, I’ll be too old to travel.”

“A beautiful young woman like you? Come now, Erin. I imagine you’ve got your pick of beaux.”

“If that were true,” she challenged with a sudden lift of her chin, “why would my mother have insisted I show up at the ball without an invitation? If men were flocking to my doorstep, it wouldn’t have been necessary for me to humiliate myself, would it?”

“I only meant—”

“You were only being polite,” she corrected sharply, “because I’m sure you know all about my stepfather, how my mother and I aren’t received by Richmond society due to his less than favorable reputation.”

“I guess I have,” he admitted quietly, “and I think it’s unfair.”

Erin couldn’t resist pointing out, “I don’t recall my mother ever being invited to call at
your
home, Mr. Youngblood.”

He stiffened, momentarily unnerved by her candor, then recovered to admit, “Frankly, I didn’t know you or your mother existed till the night of the ball. I’d heard of your stepfather. Few people haven’t, but where have you been?”

“Atlanta,” she said with a shrug. “Living with my aunt. Otherwise, my mother would probably have been dragging me around trying to find a suitable husband for me long before now.”

His lips were twitching, amused by her self-deprecating humor. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Erin. I can’t imagine any man letting animosity for your stepfather stand in the way of pursuing a lovely woman like you. I know I wouldn’t—if I happened to be looking for a wife.”

Erin was quick to inform him, “Well, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t happen to think marriage is all life holds for a woman, whether she’s pretty or not. I like to think there are options.”

“Such as?” He raised an eyebrow, delighted at her spunk.

“I’m not sure, but there has to be something.” Then, wanting to turn the conversation from herself, said, “I’d like to hear about Paris, about France. Tell me what it’s really like.”

Ryan was only too happy to oblige, for, despite the memories that were unpleasant, he had been entranced by the country and its people. He told her about Paris in October, when the days grew shorter. Dusk fell by four o’clock, and how cozy it was to have the
valet de chambre
light the logs in the fireplace, and sit there having tea in the cheerful glow while watching the violet twilight creep over the city.

He told her about the magic of Versailles in autumn when gold and russet leaves drift among the all
é
es. He painted for her with words a tapestry of beauty to be found in the chateaux of the Loire, the parterres of brilliant chrysanthemums in Chenonceaux, and the splendor of the Tuilleries gardens after a sculpturing snow. And he made her thirst as he described the taste of wine with roasted pheasant or partridge in Burgundy.

Absently, as he talked so spiritedly and she listened, enchanted, they had walked along the soft, grassy banks, finally resting beneath the whispering fronds of the weeping willow. It was only when fireflies began to dance in the gathering shadows that they realized the afternoon had passed.

Erin scrambled to her feet, brushing bits of grass from her skirt. “I have to get back. It’s suppertime, and my mother will be worried, because I’m always home before now.”

She started to turn away, but suddenly Ryan yielded to the longing that had been building all afternoon. Almost roughly he caught her about her waist and spun her about. Momentarily surprised, she had only to look into his smoldering eyes to know what was about to happen. As his lips began to descend to hers, she began to tremble, first in fear, then anticipation, as she yielded with a sigh.

As his mouth covered hers, Ryan could feel her quivering response. Shyly, slowly, her fingers lifted to his shoulders, and then she was clutching, clinging, her body unconsciously arching against his. She was swept away from reality by a dizzy ecstasy never before experienced. Time seemed frozen as he held her captive in his embrace.

Ryan felt himself being wrenched apart, ignited with desire fiercely above and beyond anything he’d ever known before. He was on fire with want and need, an almost frantic wave sweeping him from head to toe as he pressed her yet closer to him, knowing she could feel his hardness.

Erin was too naive to know what to do. She wanted to cry and laugh all at once in the sheer wonder of it all. She was helpless, befuddled, could only continue to cling to him and savor the sweetness for as long as it lasted.

He raised his lips to whisper hoarsely, “God, you’re driving me mad,” then assaulted again, his tongue tracing a hot line between her lips, urging, coaxing them to part. But when she felt his tongue at last plunge inside her mouth, at the exact instant he reached to cup her breasts and gently squeeze, Erin found herself suddenly caught in the whirling maelstrom of a nightmare returning. Gone was the joy, the sweetness, and in its place was a terrified child, writhing in protest and terror as her stepfather tried to hold her still, hands clawing at her beneath her nightgown.

“No! Don’t!” she screamed, tearing herself from him. “No…” She stumbled away from him, swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, but was instantly horrified at what she’d done. The hurt in his puzzled, bewildered gaze was unbearable, and she could only stammer, “I—I’m sorry. It—it was happening so fast.” Dear God, she couldn’t tell him that he’d unknowingly conjured terrifying memories.

He stared at her in frowning disbelief. It was difficult to comprehend that one so sensuous and enticing could be so easily unnerved. Surely she’d known what she was doing. He’d felt her pressing herself against him almost eagerly. Was she playing some kind of game, making him crazy with wanting her? She seemed far too sophisticated for such capricious nonsense, especially when she’d impressed him with intelligent questions, her own knowledge of worldly affairs. Seldom did he encounter such intellectually captivating company in a female, particularly in one so beautiful. Seeing the undeniable panic in her lovely brandy-colored eyes, he supposed an apology was in order and murmured he didn’t mean to offend her.

She untied her horse and swung up into the saddle to look at him beseechingly. “There’s nothing to apologize for. It was my fault. I shouldn’t…” Her voice trailed, and wildly, silently, she asked herself what it was she shouldn’t have done, because everything she did, she’d wanted to do, right up to the time he’d touched her breasts and slipped his tongue in her mouth, bringing back all the ugliness.

She reined the horse around and dug her heels into his flanks to set him at full gallop. She could think of nothing else to do for the embarrassing moment except to escape it.

“Tomorrow,” he yelled firmly after her. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

She was too filled with self-loathing to look back or respond, yet felt the familiar thrilling rush.

She’d be there.

Oh, yes, she had to be there, for there was no denying that Ryan Youngblood had touched her heart, and she had to find out where all of this was going to lead, where she truly wanted it to lead.

Chapter Five

Letty listened, entranced, as Erin told her
about the chance meeting with Ryan. Then, when she got to the part about him kissing her, how she’d reacted, Letty was astonished and cried, “But why? Why did you do that? You’ve been kissed by boys before, haven’t you?”

“Ryan is no boy, Letty. He’s a man, and it was different. He obviously knew what he was doing. I didn’t.”

Letty’s brows drew together as she thought about the situation. “Maybe,” she said slowly, evenly, “it’s best you don’t act like you know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean by that? I feel like a fool.”

“You don’t know Sudie, do you?” Letty didn’t wait for a response but rushed on. “You probably wouldn’t. She’s in the fields all the time. Anyway, Mastah Zachary bought her last year. She comes from someplace down in North Carolina, and she was sold off by the family that owned her, ’cause her mistress had to go away, and they didn’t need her no more. And you know why her mistress had to go away?” Her eyes grew wide.

Erin shook her head. It all sounded terribly mysterious, and she wondered what it all had to do with her own dilemma.

Letty proceeded to oblige with the information that, according to Sudie, her mistress, Miss Coralee, was being courted by a young gentleman, and the family was already making plans for a big wedding. When he suddenly didn’t come around anymore, gossip began to circulate that he’d got what he wanted from her and no longer had a reason to marry her. “Her daddy went crazy, from what Sudie said, half beat Miss Coralee to death, sayin’ she shoulda known a man ain’t gonna buy the cow if he gets the milk for free, and no decent man would marry her after everybody knew that. So he sent her away to live with some kin in another state, where nobody would know what she done, and she’d have a chance to find her a husband.”

Erin sighed and reached for another oatmeal cookie. She and Letty were piled into her bed. It was nearly midnight, and they’d sneaked some things out of the kitchen and up to her room for a late-night snack. “Why are you telling me all this?” she asked. “What does it
have to do with me acting like a ninny when Ryan Youngblood kissed me?”

Letty also grabbed a cookie, stuffed it in her mouth, then talked around it. “Don’t you see? If he can’t get free milk, he’s gonna buy the cow!”

Erin looked at her in the candle’s glow. She looked so ridiculous, trying to be serious while her mouth was full of oatmeal cookie. Then, thinking of being compared to a milk cow, Erin started to giggle. Letty joined in, and soon they were swept with gales of laughter.

When at last they calmed down, Letty grew serious and said that she didn’t know anything about the courting ways of white folks, but it seemed to her that if Miss Coralee had lost her beau by giving him something he wasn’t supposed to have until after they were properly married, that Erin would be wise to remember that and not make the same mistake with Mr. Youngblood. “So,” she said with proud finality, “I think you’re smart to look dumb, so he won’t think you ever did give away any free milk. In fact”—she leaned closer to advise conspiratorially—“I think you oughta make him want that milk real bad!”

“Letty, you’re terrible!” Erin laughed self-consciously. “What you’re suggesting I do is to lead him on, make him want me something fierce, and then tell him he can’t have me unless he marries me.”

With a shrug, Letty asked, “What’s wrong with that? That’s the way it’s supposed to be, ain’t it? When are you gonna see him again?”

“Tomorrow. He said he’d be there tomorrow waiting for me.”

“Just remember what I told you, and the next thing you know”—she waved her arms triumphantly—“you’ll be Mrs. Ryan Youngblood, and your momma and me and my momma and Ben will all be livin’ at Jasmine Hill!”

Erin looked at her thoughtfully and dared to wonder whether she might be right. If he did propose, and they did get married, so many lives would be made happy by their union, and wasn’t that what really counted? Yet she knew there was one obstacle—her fear and revulsion of any man touching her. She’d have to try very, very hard, because she had a feeling he would easily lose patience if she rebuked him every time he tried to kiss her.

He’d wind up not wanting the milk or the cow!

Zachary made his way slowly up the back stairway. This part of the house was used only by the servants and then only during the day, but he hesitated between steps anyway, to listen for any sound. The master quarters were situated all the way at the other end of the second floor. Erin’s room, however, was right at the top of the steps. Very convenient. Just as he’d planned it to be when he had Arlene give her that room when she returned from Atlanta. And since he’d been waiting for this moment for five years, he figured he could be patient a little longer, take it slow and easy. He licked his dry lips in hungry anticipation. Lordy, she was worth the wait, because she’d really ripened into a lush and lovely piece of woman flesh. And he figured by now she was old enough to see how it was to her advantage to be nice to him. There’d be no more resistance, much less furniture shoved against the door, once he made it clear he’d give her anything she wanted.

He was approaching the top. Just a turn to the right, and then five more steps, and he’d be directly outside her door. If she had locked it or tried to block him, he’d brought tools to take the door off at the hinges. Arlene wouldn’t hear. She slept soundly, thanks to that cough medicine the doctor gave her for that infernal wheezing of hers. It was probably put on to get sympathy, anyway, he figured.