Nan Ryan (9 page)

Kathleen sat in the back of the carriage, fear clutching her heart, her mind totally confused, tears streaming down her cheeks. “What is happening? Why is Dawson leaving? He loves me, I know he does. It’s a mistake, it can’t be true.” But the fear refused to leave and she knew something was very wrong.

The carriage had hardly come to a stop on the wharf near the
Diana Mine
before Kathleen jumped down and ran for the gangplank. Sam heard the footsteps and came to investigate. “Miz Kathleen, what is you doin …?”

“Sam, Sam,” she said, taking his big hand. “Where’s Dawson? Is he here?”

Sam looked very grim and answered, “Miz Kathleen, he be here, but sompin be wrong with the cap’n. He be in terrible black mood and he shout at me, say we leaving tonight. He starts drinkin and he throw things and he cuss and he …”

“Where is he, Sam? I must go to him.”

“Oh, please, Miz Kathleen, I don’t think you better, he not be hisself, he be real mean. He might hurt you.”

“Sam, is he in his cabin?”

“Yes’um, but I don’t thinks you …”

Kathleen dropped Sam’s hand and ran across the hurricane deck and down the steps to Dawson’s cabin. Hurriedly wiping tears from her eyes, she knocked loudly on the door.

“Go away, Sam!” Dawson shouted from inside.

Kathleen took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She stepped inside and closed the door, leaning back against it, breathing shallowly. There was one dim light aglow on the big desk and it cast an eerie pattern of shadows over the spacious room. Steamer trunks and suitcases were scattered around, some half open. Dawson sat behind his desk, his face in the shadows, his big hands on the desk, clutching a glass and a half empty bottle of whiskey. Kathleen looked at him for what seemed an eternity and slowly he leaned up to the desk and into the dim light. His face was hard and cold, his black hair disheveled and falling over his forehead. His white ruffled shirt was wrinkled and open to the waist, exposing his hard brown chest matted with thick black hair. He looked at her coldly and wearily rose from his chair. Dawson came around the desk and stood in front of it. He looked at her as though he had never seen her before.

Finally, he spoke. “What do you want, Kathleen?” he said coldly.

Kathleen took off her cape and threw it to the leather couch, then took one step forward and said, “What do I
want
? I want to know what’s going on! Why are you doing this to me, Dawson?”

“I was not aware I was doing anything to you, Kathleen. I’ve just been here in my cabin on my own boat. I’ve bothered no one.”

“Dawson, what is wrong? Please tell me.” She was crying again. She came to him and put her hands up to the open white shirt. “Darling, what has happened? You must tell me.”

“Nothing has happened; I just decided I’d like to get away, there’s no law against it, is there?”

“Dawson, you’re not making sense. You love me, we’re going to be married. You can’t go away.” She was shouting now.

“Don’t, Kathleen. I’ve a terrible headache.”

“Headache? Have you lost your mind completely? You … you’re drunk. That’s it. You’re very drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m not drunk, Kathleen, though I’m working on it and plan to get that way real soon.”

“Dawson, darling, I …”

“Kathleen, I want you to go. I didn’t invite you here and I would like to be alone.”

“Dawson, please, I love you and … you love me.”

“No,” Dawson said coldly, “I don’t love you, Kathleen. You amused me for a while, but not anymore. You see, women are like champagne. Fresh champagne is bubbly and it tickles your nose and makes you giddy. But then the champagne goes stale. Our relationship has gone flat, Kathleen. It’s over.” Dawson removed her hands from his shirt.

She was terribly hurt and confused, but she would not give up. She moved closer to him, stood on tiptoes and whispered, “You love me, Dawson Blakely,” and kissed him on the mouth. “I know you love me.” Her lips traveled over his hard brown face and came back to his full mouth. She pressed against him and prayed his strong arms would come around her. Dawson’s teeth stayed tightly clenched and his cold lips moved not at all under her trembling mouth. She looked up at him and his eyes were still dark and cold. In desperation, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, kissing him wildly, whispering his name. Still she got no response. His arms remained at his sides and his body stayed completely rigid.

“Please don’t Kathleen. It won’t work,” he said in a tired voice.

Undaunted, she moved her arms from around his neck and put her fingers to the white shirt front. She slowly pulled the shirt apart and leaned to him and kissed his brown chest, murmuring, “You love me, you do, say you love me.” She couldn’t see Dawson’s eyes softening. Nothing else about him changed. Slowly, Dawson raised his hands and jerked her away, pushing her back a step or two.

“It’s no use, Kathleen, you’re wasting your time. I don’t love you, I never did, really.” He pulled out a straight-backed chair and sat down, his feet apart, arms folded across his chest. “Why don’t you leave?”

Kathleen stood looking at him, hurt and unbelieving, bewildered and shocked that her kisses meant nothing to him, did not arouse him at all. Perhaps he doesn’t love me, I should leave, that’s what he wants. He wants me to go. But she couldn’t, she loved him too much. “It can’t end like this, I won’t let it.”

Slowly, Kathleen raised her fingers to the brooch at her neck and unfastened it, tossing it on the desk. “I will make you love me,” she said defiantly and started unbuttoning the top buttons of the white lace blouse. Dawson’s eyes never left her, but he said, “Don’t do it, Kathleen.”

She continued unbuttoning the blouse and looking at him. He tried to lower his eyes and found it impossible. “She’s teasing me, she’ll stop in a minute,” he thought. She did not stop. She unbuttoned the last button at the waist, took off the blouse, and threw it on the desk. She stood before him in the sheer batiste camisole with its dainty blue ribbon and Dawson’s breath caught in his throat.

“For God’s sake, Kathleen, don’t shame yourself. Stop it; where’s your pride?”

“Pride?” she looked at him sadly, tears now overflowing from the big blue eyes. “I have none left. I love you and I will not let you go.” Her shaking fingers untied the little blue bow at the top of the camisole and then the top hook was opened.

“Stop,” Dawson shouted, “I mean it!”

Kathleen paid no attention to his command and continued to look him in the eye. She undid the last three hooks and stood with the camisole seductively open.

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely, but she let the camisole slide down her arms and to the floor. Still looking straight at him, she stood bare to the waist before him and finally saw the change come into his dark, brooding eyes. He looked at her, not speaking, drinking in her beauty.

Dawson felt his heart completely stop for a minute as he stared at her. She was the most temptingly beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on and he loved her and wanted her beyond all reason. When her hands went to the waistband of her skirt, he slowly reached out and took her arm. The touch of his hand turned her quiet tears to sobs.

In slow motion, Dawson pulled her between his legs and sat her down on his left knee. He held her close against him and stroked her hair until her sobs subsided. Then he kissed her tenderly and whispered her name. Her lips were warm under his; he tasted the salt from her tears and the heart inside him began to pound. He looked into her eyes and felt a lump forming in his throat. His dark, agonized eyes rolled up briefly and he moaned, “God forgive me,” and slowly bent his head down to her. His fevered lips sought the soft white skin of her bosom as all logic and reason left him and nothing existed but the sweet closeness of his beloved. Kathleen looked down at the handsome dark head bent over her. She felt the fiery kisses covering her sensitive skin and was filled with a new emotion as yet unknown to her. She raised her hands to the dear head and leaned down to kiss the thick black hair.

“You do love me, darling, you do,” she whispered.

“I worship you,” he murmured against her tingling flesh and continued to press his burning mouth to her breast. He rained kisses all over her torso, her bare shoulders, the valley between her breasts, the hollow of her throat, the sides of her sensitive neck. Carefully avoiding the tempting pink tips of her breasts, he wisely held himself in check. He didn’t want to do anything that might spoil the shared closeness of the minute, because he had come to the unconscious decision to take what she was offering him.

“Dawson, please tell me …” Her words were swallowed as his mouth once again took hers. He ran the tip of his tongue around her trembling lips until Kathleen felt as though her mouth were a circle of fire. He teasingly bit at her full bottom lip, kissed the corners of her mouth, and finally plunged his tongue inside. Kathleen’s arms slid around his back and she kissed him frantically, her tongue meeting his, exploring, melding, savoring the hot, slow kiss that was making her weak and faint.

His mouth left hers at last and moved to the velvety texture of her smooth, pale cheek. The soft skin under his lips was flushed and warm and the sweet voice calling his name was breathless, high-pitched. Dawson’s hand moved up to her breast, letting it fill his hand, his thumb going to the taut tip, to circle it lazily while he continued to kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, her neck. He traced the contour of her small ear with his tongue and whispered huskily, “Kathleen, my own. I love you, darling. No one is going to have you but me.” All thought of the morrow departed. There was only one thing Dawson Blakely was positive of; he loved this beautiful girl as he’d never loved another human being and he was going to make her his. He was going to love her the way he’d always wanted. He was going to unclothe her lovely body and take all her sweetness, taste all the delights he’d been craving, drink from the draught of love until his thirst was quenched.

“Dawson,” she said tremulously, “tell me that you didn’t mean what you said earlier. Tell me you’re not tired of me, that you …”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing her neck, “I’ll show you how I feel about you.” His mouth claimed hers again and Kathleen reeled and clasp him tightly as he pulled her against him. His bare, furry chest was crushing her tender breasts and she gloried in the feel of him. She consciously pressed herself closer while his hot mouth continued to plunder hers as he kissed her in a way he’d never kissed her before.

Dawson’s hand slipped under her knees and, with his lips still on hers, he rose from the chair. His lips lifted from hers and she buried her face in his brown, smooth throat while he carried her to his big bed. Gently standing her beside the bed, Dawson again kissed her before turning her to face away from him. His big, eager hands went to the waistband of her velvet skirt and deftly unfastened it. Like a small child, Kathleen stood dutifully still and quiet while Dawson pulled the skirt, petticoats, and underwear down over her hips and legs. Offering her his hand, she took it and stepped out of her shoes and the billowing garments, while Dawson stooped, picked them up, and placed them on a chair. He stood behind her and put his hands to her shoulders. While the blood pounded in his temples, he looked down at the bare, beautiful body so close and had to restrain himself from jerking her around to face him. He desperately wanted to look at her, to have her turn round and round while he beheld and admired her loveliness. He bent his head and tenderly kissed the side of her neck and whispered, “Kathleen, Kathleen” as he started to turn her slowly.

Suddenly shy and frightened, Kathleen twisted from his grip and quickly got into bed, nervously pulling the sheet up to her chin, giving Dawson’s searching eyes barely a glimpse, but it was enough to make the blood surge through his veins. He bit his lower lip and cautioned himself to go slowly, very slowly.

Knowing the sudden sight of his nakedness would further frighten her, Dawson sat on the edge of the bed and removed only the open white shirt and black boots, leaving the tight black trousers on. He moved closer to her, remaining in a sitting position, and put a hand on either side of her trembling body. “Love,” he whispered, “open your eyes and look at me. Kathleen.”

Her eyes opened tentatively, but her small hands continued to clutch at the sheet, holding it tightly in place just under her chin. She gazed up into the dark, smoldering eyes which looked down at her with more love and tenderness than she’d ever seen before. “Dawson,” she whispered shakily, “I … I … love you, but I … I’m afraid.”

His hand went to the side of her head, his long fingers raking through her silky hair. “My darling,” he whispered, “don’t be. It’s Dawson, darling. Your Dawson. You don’t have to be frightened of me. I love you. Oh God, how I love you.”

His lips descended slowly to hers and her lips parted in invitation. She loosened the grip on the sheet, relaxing a little. His mouth was warm and moist and undemanding as he kissed her tenderly, slowly, starting over from the beginning, as though it was the first time he’d ever kissed her. She sighed as he placed sweet little kisses on her lips and soon she was raising her head from the pillow, longing for the kisses to last longer, wanting him to kiss her deeply, passionately. Dawson continued to take only soft quick sips from her eager lips, purposely making her crave more. Soon, she was nervously nipping at his bottom lip and plunging her tongue into his mouth. Her arms had come from under the sheet to clutch the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her, trying desperately to draw him closer.

“Dawson, Dawson,” she sighed through fevered lips, “please …” Her lips traveled over his brown face, as in a frenzy of desire she licked at his jawline, kissed his chin, bit at his ear.

Only then did Dawson claim her mouth in a deep hungry kiss of passion. Sighing with gratitude, Kathleen kissed him wildly, her hands pulling at the dark hair of his head while her open mouth twisted under his and welcomed the penetrating tongue seeking out the honeyed recesses of her mouth. So lost in his fiery kiss was she that she hardly noticed when Dawson’s big hand unobtrusively pulled the sheet slowly down, stopping only when it lay at her waist.