Nan Ryan (35 page)

But then Kurt Northway was not looking for an ideal romantic relationship. Certainly not with her. She would do well to remember—at all times—that this man she couldn’t keep from wanting was still very much a Yankee. Born and bred in Maryland, he was eager to go back home.

Helen was no child. She understood fully that if she went to Kurt this very minute and asked him to take her in his arms, he wouldn’t hesitate to make love to her. But neither would he hesitate to leave her come harvest time. Leave her without ever looking back.

Helen rose from the bed, blew out the lamp she’d just lit. In the shadows she finished undressing, drew her nightgown over her head, and let it fall slowly down over her bare, warm body. She released her heavy hair from the pins holding it, shook her head about, and got into bed.

She heard Kurt’s bedroom door close, heard him cross the room.

Kurt entered the spacious guest room where he had spent the last two and a half weeks. He closed the door behind him, then smiled at the foolish irony of it. The door had not been closed before tonight. There was no need to close it now, yet he had.

Kurt crossed the darkened room. He moved to the open French doors and stood looking out at the bay, its calm waters silvered by the moonlight. He breathed deeply of the sweet magnolia-scented air.

After spending a summer in Spanish Fort, it was easy to see why these Alabamians loved their state so much. There was a time he had thought no place on earth could compare with his native Maryland. He was wrong.

This land of the Mobile delta, stretching flat and unbroken to the white sands of the Gulf shore, had gotten a firm hold on him. Miles of beaches, dunes, swamps, palmetto, tall pines, and aged, moss-hung oaks created a world of tropical beauty. He would surely miss it.

Kurt exhaled slowly and his jaw tightened.

This lush land was not the only thing that had gotten a firm hold on him. The golden-haired beauty who unquestionably belonged here in this luxuriant lowland Eden had gotten a firm hold on him as well.

Helen Courtney was not simply an extraordinarily lovely young woman, although she was certainly that. She had the most magnificent blue eyes he’d ever seen and her alabaster skin was flawless. Her hair so silky and golden he could hardly keep his hands out of it and he felt sure that underneath her simple cotton work dresses was a soft, slender body of creamy perfection.

Helen was physically beautiful, but she was more, much more. She was intelligent, resourceful, and loyal. She was dependable and as brave as any woman he’d ever known. She was compassionate and understanding. She was nurturing and caring. She possessed all the traits that made a woman admirable and lovable.

She also possessed an innate sensuality which promised passionate lovemaking.

A muscle involuntarily danced in Kurt’s tight jaw and he turned away from the silvered tropical splendor spread out below. In the darkened room he paced like a restless jungle cat, too edgy to consider getting any sleep.

He assumed that Helen was slumbering peacefully.

She wasn’t.

Helen lay wide awake in the day-bright moonlight. Tense, fidgety, she found it impossible to forget for a single second that Kurt—now healthy again—was in the very next room. Only a thin wall separated them. And there was no one else for miles around.

She had known from the minute Kurt said Charlie could go to Bay Minette that this was going to happen. That the two of them would be all alone together in this big silent house in the hot sultry night. And that it would be agony for her. It was even worse than she had imagined.

The damp, sticky nightgown clinging to her heated body, her mind awhirl, Helen wondered miserably what had come over her. The only man with whom she had ever made love had been her husband, Will. The two of them had made love with all the awkwardness, eagerness, and passion of youthful lovers.

Once he had gone, she had never once considered making love with anyone else. She had never looked at another man. Had wanted no other. Ever.

Until now.

Now she wanted Kurt Northway so badly it was all she could do to lie there. It was all she could do to stay away from that other room, that other bed, that dark, sensual man in whose strong arms she could once again be a complete woman.

Helen tossed and turned and wondered how Kurt would react if she got up the nerve to take that short, yet oh-so-long walk into his room. And into his arms.

She clutched at the sheeted mattress beneath her, guiltily hoping against hope that he would take the long walk. That he would come to her. That he would take her in his arms and make her forget for a little while there was anyone else in the world but the two of them. Or had ever been.

Helen knew he wouldn’t come. She no longer heard him pacing. He was, she was sure, sound asleep.

She was wrong.

In the shadowy room next to hers, Kurt
had
stopped pacing. He had stripped, drew on one of the clean white nightshirts, and climbed into bed. But he wasn’t asleep.

He couldn’t rest knowing that the bed where he lay sleepless and edgy was dangerously close to the one in which Helen peacefully slumbered. Only a thin wall separated them. She was in the next room in her bed and there was nobody else for miles around.

It would be so simple, so easy to go to her. To kiss her awake and make love to her while she was still drowsy and warm with slumber. Instinct and his knowledge of women told him she might resist initially, but melting surrender would follow.

Kurt abruptly got up out of bed.

His strides long and determined, he stalked over to the open French doors. But he paused there in the portal, indecisive for the first time in his life. Then he heaved a great sigh of frustration, turned, and went back inside.

Hot and miserable, Kurt stripped off the long nightshirt and climbed, naked, back into the bed. Folding his hands behind his dark head, he lay there in the moonlight, his bare tense body covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.

Sweet temptation made his blood run hot. His body throbbed with the overwhelming impact of his desire. Teeth gritted, naked belly achingly tight, Kurt silently cursed himself for allowing Charlie to leave. He should have said no. Should have kept Charlie here so he wouldn’t be suffering through this needless torment.

Jesus God, how was he going to make it through the next four days and nights without touching the bewitching beauty with whom he was helplessly, foolishly falling in love?

Chapter Thirty-nine

M
orning finally dawned and two tired, jumpy people met in the kitchen and behaved like strangers. Breakfast was a strained affair with neither Helen nor Kurt saying anything. Both were relieved when the meal was finished.

Clearing her throat and rising, Helen said without looking at Kurt, “Dr. Ledet said you shouldn’t overdo.” She took his empty plate from in front of him. “If you’d like to rest this morning, I won’t be disturbing you. I have plenty to do outdoors.”

“I’m not tired,” he lied. “I thought I might exercise Raider; he must wonder what’s happened to me.” He smiled stiffly and added, “after that maybe I’ll do some hoeing. The weeds must be growing like weeds.”

His laughter was forced. Helen didn’t even smile. She set the empty plates on the cabinet. “If you’re well enough for riding and hoeing, then … then perhaps this afternoon you’ll feel like …” she paused, drew a spine-stiffening breath, held it, and continued, “perhaps it’s time you … move back down to the quarters.”

Kurt pushed back his chair and stood up. “Yes. Certainly. I’ll remove my things—and Charlie’s—from the guest room this afternoon.” He went to the back door, paused, and without looking back, said, “I won’t spend another night in the house.” And then he was gone.

Helen released her held breath. From the window she watched him move quickly across the backyard, out the gate, and down the footpath to the stable. She continued to stand there, watching, until he led the saddled Raider out of the corral. The big stallion neighed and blew and nudged his master’s shoulder affectionately, obviously overjoyed to see Kurt. It was just as obvious that Kurt was glad to see Raider.

Before mounting the big beast, he turned, wrapped an arm around the stallion’s head, and pressed his smoothly shaven jaw to Raider’s. Kurt whispered in the creature’s ear and smiled and patted the sleek, quivering neck.

Raider suddenly shook his great head up and down rapidly, and Helen knew that Kurt had asked the stallion if he was ready to run. She couldn’t keep from smiling at the thoroughbred’s genuine excitement. She heard Kurt’s shout of laughter as he looped the reins over Raider’s neck and swung easily up into the saddle.

The stallion shot away from the corral like a streak of summer lightning. Long tail and mane flying, big body moving with incredible speed and grace, Raider raced away. He galloped down the narrow path between the garden and the orchard, heading straight for the freedom of the big northern field.

Smiling foolishly, Helen gazed after them, recalling the morning she had been atop the mighty stallion as he’d raced around the tree-bordered field. She remembered how thrilling it had been, how she had laughed and screamed and clung to the muscular arm wrapped tightly around her.

In seconds, horse and rider disappeared behind the orchard and the tall pines beyond.

Helen turned her attention to the morning chores. Kurt was out of sight. She would put him out of mind as well.

She glanced down curiously when something stirred her long skirts. A mournful Dom silently rubbed against her. Helen sat down on her heels and stroked the lonely feline.

“You missing Charlie already?” she cooed. His response, a soft, plaintive meow, sounded like the cry of a child. “I’m sorry, Dom. I miss him too. But he’ll be back in a few days and then … then …”

Her words trailed off. Continuing to pet the silky-furred Russian Blue, Helen was sobered by the thought that if she and the cat missed Charlie when he’d been gone for only a few hours, what would it be like when he was gone for good? And Charlie’s father too.

Swallowing hard, Helen rose, crooned to the forsaken cat, and poured some fresh thick cream into his saucer. She set it before him and waited. Dom looked at her, looked at the saucer of cream, sniffed it, but never dipped a tasting tongue into its creamy richness. He turned and forlornly walked away. Helen quietly followed, curious. Sure enough, Dom went straight to the guest room. He leaped up onto the chaise lounge where he slept each night with Charlie. Low sounds of misery coming from deep inside his throat, Dom curled up in the corner of the long chaise to feel sorry for himself.

“You’ll get over it,” Helen told the spoiled tom. But the statement was meant for herself as well as for Dom.

The best way to handle an aching heart was to replace it with an aching back, Grandma Burke always said. Hard physical labor. That’s exactly what she needed. Helen grabbed up her sunbonnet and gloves and headed for her vegetable garden.

It hot and still. Dead calm. Not a hint of a breeze or a cloud in the sky. The sun shone down with a vengeance on her back and shoulders. In minutes she was damp with perspiration, but she continued to work.

She was laboring under the broiling sun when she looked up to see Kurt dismounting at the edge of her garden. He spoke softly to the big stallion and Raider didn’t move a muscle as Kurt started toward her.

Slowly Helen came to her feet.

Kurt was smiling when he reached her.

He said, “Remember the morning Raider took us for a ride?”

After a long pause, Helen said, “Yes. I remember.”

Kurt moved closer, so close she could see the pulse beating in his tanned throat.

“Let’s do it again,” Kurt said. He reached out, curled his lean fingers around the waistband of her worn skirt, and pulled her flush against him. He bent his head until his lips were almost touching hers. “Let’s ride and laugh until we’re so hot and tired we have to take a swim in the bay to cool off.”

His lips hovered just above Helen’s for a tension-filled moment. She started to speak—to say no—but Kurt swiftly covered her mouth with his own, smothering any protests. The instant his lips touched hers, Kurt’s heart began to pound. His arms went around her and he crushed her to him. His eyes closed and he deepened the kiss, breaking the barrier of her teeth with his tongue.

Caught off guard, Helen’s fiery response was instant and involuntary. She clung to Kurt and kissed him back, her heart beating wildly against his. They stood there in the garden, in the sunshine, kissing eagerly, hungrily. But when Kurt’s hand moved up from Helen’s waist to cup a swelling breast, she tore her burning lips from his.

“No,” she breathed against his shoulder. “We can’t … do this … please …”

“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” he murmured against her temple. “We can. We’re alone and I want you and you want—”

“No, I … I …” she struggled, pushed him away. “I’m a married woman,” she said.

“You are
not
a married woman, Helen,” Kurt bit out, his green eyes narrowing, a muscle working his jaw. He grabbed her wrist, drew her back to him, and said, “You’re coming with me.”

“No! No, I’m not. Let me go!” Helen raised her voice as she clawed at the strong fingers imprisoning her wrist. “You let me go or so help me—”

Ignoring her threats, Kurt dragged her from the garden. He lifted her, struggling and squirming, up onto Raider’s back and quickly swung up behind her, enclosing her in his arms.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Helen, angry now, shouted into his dark, set face. “Where are you taking me?”

Kurt reined Raider about and the thoroughbred went into swift motion. Seated sideways across the saddle, Helen was immediately slammed back against Kurt’s chest. She vainly attempted to lever herself up away from him. But without even glancing at her, Kurt tightened his arm around her, pressed her back in place.

In few short moments the big stallion came to a plunging halt at the far northern border of Helen’s property. Kurt dropped to the ground and pulled Helen from Raider’s back. His fingers again firmly wrapped around her wrist, he drew her along with him until they stood before three fresh graves marked with a wooden headstone.