Scarlet Butterfly (10 page)

They’d eaten the fried pies, still warm from the pan. “Lucy,” Sean had explained, “makes them from dried apricots.” Then he’d cleaned the two catfish that were hanging from a thong in the water. Later he’d showed her how to roll them in beaten eggs and cornmeal and had delighted in her pleasure over her success in frying them to a golden crisp.

“The fish are from Harry. Every time he goes into town he leaves fish and pies.”

“What about the peaches?” she asked later as they peeled and ate the sweet fruit.

“Now that’s a puzzle,” he admitted. “So far as I know neither Lucy nor Harry has a tree.”

“I like peaches. They’re my favorite fruit.”

“Peaches for Carrie,” Bully said seriously. “Sweets for the sweet.”

Rogan looked at Bully with a frown. The bird usually repeated phrases he’d heard, over and over again. His newfound vocabulary was puzzling.
Peaches for Carrie
?

“Why don’t you ever talk to the bird?” Carolina asked.

“I don’t know. Feel foolish, I guess. There are times I tell him to shut up, but that doesn’t stop him.”

“Isn’t there anything you miss, being so isolated?”

“I guess the only thing I miss is ice cream, and someone to be with occasionally.”

“ ‘Be with’? Rogan?” He could have said shared the chores with, or talk with, but
be with
? She hadn’t thought about being intimate with him. But Rogan had every right to think that when she said yes to living with him, she’d meant that she was willing to share his bed. And for a moment, that thought sent
her nerve endings spiraling. “I didn’t think … I mean I’m not—”

“Relax. I know. That’s all right. I was only teasing.”

“Rogan teasing? That seems illogical.”

Rogan cleared his throat as if he were embarrassed, and turned away.

Suddenly Rogan’s thoughts, and he suspected Carolina’s as well, were thrust back to that first night on board. Neither looked at the other. Neither voiced any reflections.

What had he expected? That was the problem, he told himself. He hadn’t thought ahead. For the first time, Mr. Bottom-Line-Planner hadn’t considered the future. The man who’d always considered all the alternatives hadn’t calculated the final result. He was flying by the seat of his pants, and that was new. So new that he didn’t know what he’d want to happen even if he could set the terms.

“Well,” Rogan said, letting out a deep sigh, “I guess it’s time to put up my mosquito netting.”

“Rogan, I think you ought to let me sleep up here. I don’t feel right about keeping you out of your bed.”

“We could always share it,” he said quietly.

“We could,” she agreed in a soft voice.

“Carolina, are you a virgin?”

His question caught her by surprise. She didn’t know quite how to answer. “No … or perhaps yes. I’m not really sure.”

Rogan stopped unwrapping his netting. “You’re not sure? How can that be?”

“It’s hard to talk about. When I went away to school, my father was very concerned that I’d do something even more foolish. As I alluded to before, he arranged for me to meet someone. The man—no;
‘boy’ would be a better word—wasn’t really interested. So we never—I mean he tried, but it was just like my father said: I’m not sexually appealing as a woman. I understand and accept that.” She turned away, unable to finish, so great was her mortification.

“ ‘Not appealing’?” He dropped the netting and caught her hand, lifting her from her chair, pulling her closer. “You aren’t appealing as a woman? The boy must have been an android. Surely you know how truly sensual you are?”

“Me? ‘Sensual’? Don’t tease me, Rogan. I’ve learned to live with the truth.”

“Listen, Goldilocks, if I weren’t holding on with every ounce of control, I’d already have you down in that bed doing things to you that your father would keelhaul me for.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but you don’t have to say that. I know how I look. I never did have much in the way of curves. Now I’m a mess.”

It was those eyes that did it, those wide, hurting, silver-blue eyes. She really didn’t know how appealing she was. Damn Angus Evans for making her feel inferior. Rogan couldn’t stand there and allow her to hurt.

He didn’t give himself time to consider the problem any further. Acting on instinct, he moved closer to her, his free hand touching her face, his fingertips drawing little stars across her forehead, sliding down to her chin, and lifting it so that she had to look at him.

“You are so lovely, so very special, Carolina,” he said softly. “You’re like a rare piece of music, a fine
painting, an exquisite glass sculpture.” He knew, though, that it wasn’t a
thing
she needed to be, but a woman, a woman desired, a woman who believed in herself.

Then his lips captured hers, gently, slowly, his hand sliding down her cheek, cupping her shoulder, setting off spears of hot feelings, wondrous little bubbles of sensation that burst across her bare shoulders. He nibbled, tasted, pulling a lip into his mouth, releasing it and finding a new place for his mouth to explore while his hands ranged lower.

He loosened her straps, sliding the top of her sundress to her waist while he found her breasts and brought such sensation to them that she gasped. She began to ache, a surge of unexpected flame licking out in a widening circle from where she felt his throbbing against her. “Oh!”

He pulled back. “What’s wrong? Did I scare you?”

“No. I just felt you, against me, like before. Foreplay,” she said dreamily, and closed her eyes in contentment.

“Darling, that’s just the beginning. If this turns you on, I can’t wait until we get to the real thing.”

“Oh, yes. Is it all right to talk about it? I mean do women—am I supposed to keep quiet and still?”

“Hell, I hope not. What you do is let go, Carolina, and feel what I’m giving you.”

Sean had made love to many women in his life, but never had the loving given him such pleasure. For every caress, she responded with sighs, moans, soft happy little sounds and movements that made him yearn to give her more. If he’d stopped to think, he might have wondered about tomorrow, but nothing seemed important beyond the now, beyond the moment
when this lovely woman learned how desirable she was.

Finally her dress fell in a cloud around her feet. His shirt and trousers soon joined it.

“May I touch you, Rogan?”

“You’d better not. I might not be able to hold on if you do.”

Her body was so unused to such feelings that she didn’t question her lack of fear. Her arms went around his neck, encircling his head. She waited for him to pull back, jerk away, or groan in frustration. But it didn’t happen. She pressed her lips against him and felt the pressure building, measured by the stiffness of the muscles in his arms.

“Do you really want to make love to me, Rogan?”

“Yes,” he admitted harshly. And Rogan understood in that moment that what he was feeling wasn’t simply some magnanimous act of kindness toward her. It was for himself as well, for a man who was parched from the unanswered need for kindness, for caring, for gentleness. She’d been right all along! They were meant to be together. Whether it was an accident or some quirk of fate that had brought her into his life, she was here and she was offering herself to him. And he wanted her very much. He ran his fingers up and down her back, feeling the little muscle tremors where he touched her.

There was no restraint in her response, no holding back, no question. It was as if she knew instinctively that they were meant to love each other, and she trusted him enough to follow wherever he led her.

Trust
—that was what she was giving. The idea
blew him away. Trust had never before entered into a relationship for Rogan. But then, he’d never found a woman like Carolina Evans before. He wasn’t sure he deserved what she was offering.

“Love ’em and leave ’em, darling,” Bully squawked.

“Shut up, Bully,” Carolina said quietly. “Rogan isn’t like that. People who love each other don’t leave.”

“ ‘Love’?” Rogan stopped. For a long moment he stood absolutely still; then he pushed her away.

“What’s wrong, Rogan?”

“Nothing. No, everything. The bird is right, Carolina. People do love each other and leave. People hurt other people in the name of love. Whatever we have here can’t be love. It’s just two people wanting to give each other pleasure, nothing more. No commitments, no talk of love.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him, until she saw his grim look and recognized the tension in his body. He was wrong. She knew he was wrong. But she didn’t know how to tell him yet. He’d have to find it out for himself.

“Dear Rogan, I stopped planning on forever. Nobody can promise that. I’m not sure I want to talk about commitments either. As for love, I probably wouldn’t know love if it bit me on the foot.” She laughed lightly. “Hey, lighten up. This is your hired hand speaking, reporting for orders, Captain Rogan, sir.”

They stared at each other, both struggling to find their way back into the passion that still simmered.

“You told me I was desirable, Rogan. I very much need to feel desired. Please, tell me again.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise, Carolina. I think you
need me, and need is addictive. You’re very special, and I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Rogan, you’re crazy! I may not have the experience you have, but I know that refusing to give yourself to me won’t take away my wanting you. Once want is acknowledged it doesn’t go away, does it?”

“Yes, eventually. But sometimes it takes a long time.”

“Time? Maybe time doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s the now that’s important to me.”

Rogan tightened the muscles in his arms, pulling her close. “I thought you said that you were cured.”

“The jury is still out, but they think so. Sometimes it takes a long time to know. Suppose they’re wrong. I think I don’t want to wait and see.” She extended her hand. “So if you really don’t mind making love to a bony woman with no curves and no hair, I’d like you to, Rogan. I’d like that very much.”

She took his hand and led him down the steps to the cabin. It didn’t matter that it was still light, that the bird squawked his disapproval, that the boat rolled and creaked as if a one-legged man were tap-dancing on the deck.

All Carolina’s reservations vanished when Rogan took her hand. She ached for this man with a yearning that went beyond any daydream or fantasy. Once she reached the bed, she stood hesitantly. She felt Rogan’s gaze on her, bathing her bare upper body in steady warmth. Removing her hand from his, she slid her panties down and kicked them across the floor. Then she did the same for his underwear.

At her touch Rogan felt his pulse quicken to a dangerous rate. He’d meant to give to Carolina, but she was giving to him. She’d found the courage to know what she wanted and to ask for it. There was no uncertainty, but rather a kind of proud confidence.

Rogan reached out, his fingertips touching her breast. He was rewarded with a soft moan and the visible puckering of the nipple.

“Oh, Rogan, that’s so nice. May I touch you too?”

“Not yet, darling. There’s time for that later.” He took her entire breast into his mouth and kissed it, softly.

Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she caught his arms and leaned away so that he could take what he wanted. His kisses felt like butterfly wings brushing against her breasts. She was glowing. All those years of loneliness and want dissolved away. Instinctively she pressed against Rogan and felt him stiffen in response.

She could feel her breasts swell. They weren’t small anymore. Rogan had made them beautiful. Like satin, she moved sensually against every part of him she could touch. She felt the roughness of his carpenter’s hands on her breasts, his body hair gently caressing her stomach, his maleness caught between them. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I never understood.”

This time it was Rogan who groaned. He was losing himself. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and his throat muscles were so tight that he could hardly draw air into his lungs. “Carolina, are you sure?” His voice was so ragged that he didn’t recognize it. He’d had to force himself to ask.

“I’ve never been so certain of anything,” she whispered, and felt the fire sweep through him in reply. “I hurt. I feel like every part of me is moving. I want you to make love to me, Rogan. Please? Now?”

And then she was in his arms. He was falling down across the bed holding her, kissing her wildly, touching her with such pleasure that she could no longer doubt his desire. With his dark hair loosened from its perpetual band, it fell across his forehead, skimming her body, setting off ripples of pleasure. She reached out, running her fingers through its luxuriant length, reveling in the sensual feeling, and holding him against her body.

Rogan’s mouth explored her breasts, ricocheted to the sensitive area of her neck and downward, leaving patches of fire wherever he touched. He knew when to be gentle and where to exert pressure, as if he’d memorized her body and could predict her responses. Ignoring the frantic hands tugging at him, urging him to move faster, he slid his leg across her, freeing himself to pulsate against her thigh. She responded in rhythm as his mouth left her breasts and ranged lower.

“Not so fast, darling,” he said. “I want this to be good for you.”

“Rogan, if it were any better, I’d die. Don’t torture me, please!”

But she hadn’t yet known the exquisite torture of a man’s loving until his mouth moved lower, capturing the bead of throbbing heat that jerked wildly at his touch.

“Oh, Rogan, stop. You’re going to make me—make me do something!” Her words and her actions were
in fierce disagreement as she arched against him, trembling, panting, asking.

But he was trembling, too, now. “That’s what I’m trying to do, darling. Go with the feeling, Goldilocks.” His fingers moved along the inner part of her thigh, then upward, until he found the spot where his mouth had been. He had to tighten his own muscles to hold back the growing tide of response. Not yet, Rogan. You can’t let go yet. His finger drifted lower. Then it was inside her, as far as he could go—so far, but no farther. Stunned, he pulled back and stared at her in wonder.