Sunflower (28 page)

“Oh!” She pressed her hands to her eyes to stop the stinging as well as the flow of tears. Fingertips heavily scented with onion only made matters worse.

“Are you crying?” She heard doubt in his voice.

“No. I’m chopping onions. I never cry.” She waved her hands beneath his nose and he winced.

“Oh.”

Silence again.

Didn’t he realize she was teasing him, reminding him of his own words, “I never yell”?

Caleb opened his mouth to speak and, thinking better of it, closed it again. Desire pulsed through him at the sight of her flushed cheeks and the haunted expression in her eyes. All he wanted at that moment was to take her in his arms then and there, to taste the nectar of her lips and hold her to him. He studied her, wanting to read desire in her eyes. He saw only tears. Could they be real? Doubt assailed him, blotting out reason. Analisa’d never met another eligible man before he’d ridden up to her door. No one from Pella would have married her, of that he was certain, but what if she’d had a chance to leave the Dutch community and meet a man elsewhere, someone more like herself, someone of her own choice? Someone like the major?

Doubting himself, Caleb was sure in an instant that she would never have chosen him. If that was true, was it fair of him to keep her, to press her into holding on to a marriage that had no real reason for being? Did it matter at all that he’d come to love her? Wiping his open palms against his thighs, Caleb turned away.

Analisa dried her tears with the corner of her apron and pretended not to notice as he hefted a kettle off of the stove and carried it into the bedroom without another word. His footsteps beat a soft tattoo against the floorboards as he walked back and forth, cooling the boiling water in the tub with a bucket of cold water from the barrel on the back stoop. The footsteps stopped soon after she heard the bedroom door close.

She would give him ten minutes, she decided. Ten minutes, and then she’d go right in there and ask him face to face what he was so mad about. Having finally decided on a course of action, Analisa scooped the onion and some butter into a frying pan and set it on the sideboard. Then she washed and dried her hands, smoothed her hair, and paced the room for nine minutes.

The door swung open soundlessly. Analisa moved into the bedroom on tiptoe, her heart racing. Caleb sat low in the tub, un moving, his head against the high rounded backrest, his eyes closed. Intending to offer to wash his back, she walked toward him silently. Caleb’s chest rose and fell heavily; he was asleep. She knew he was thoroughly exhausted, for the slightest sound usually woke him.

His hands were folded across his chest, his fingers intertwined. The thick, corded muscles of his upper arms contrasted with the serenity etched on his face as he slept. His dark lashes were half moons against the high-cheekboned planes of his face. His knees were drawn up to accommodate his length, extending well above the surface of the water while one leg lay against the side of the tub. Clouded with soap, the milky water hid his lower body from view, but the knowledge of what lurked just below the surface was enough to send a rush of heat to her cheeks.

Unwilling to disturb him, Analisa began to walk away. The soft rustle of her skirt and the brush of the fabric against the side of his face roused him. With a warrior’s instinct, Caleb sat up, instantly alert, yet for a split second unsure of where he was.

Damn.
He chided himself for his laxness. Had she been an enemy, he’d be dead now, he thought, and knew he was more tired than he had realized.

He watched Analisa over his shoulder as she placed folded linen towels on the bed. As if aware of his eyes on her, she turned to face him. Selfish pride and possessiveness overwhelmed him. God, he loved her. No one else would have her, he’d be damned sure of that, for he couldn’t let her go. Not to the major, not to anyone, even if the other man was more suited to her than he was.

“Caleb, we have to talk.”

It took all of her courage to utter the words. Something was wrong; she saw it in his eyes and felt it in the very air around him. She unfolded a wide linen towel and carried it to him. Awkward with his nudity, she draped it over the screen and busied herself, tidying up his shaving items. The mirror over the dresser afforded her a view without forcing her to face him directly. He stood in the tub and briskly toweled his hair, shaking the loose strands and rubbing it until it no longer dripped profusely. He swiped at the beaded water on his skin and dried his body before stepping out. She watched the muscles in his arms bunch and relax with his movements He kept his back to her until he had draped the towel around his hips and tucked in the ends. She turned to face him just as he turned to face her.

He felt everything inside him flop upside down at her words. She wanted to talk. Well, he would listen, he told himself, even if she told him what he feared most. He’d listen, but refuse to let her go.

“What do you want to talk about?”

His steps took him within inches of her. He didn’t realize he’d pinned her against the dresser.

“I ... I just want to know what’s bothering you, Caleb. I have never seen you like this.” Her eyes moved over his face. It was grim and determined. “That is, not since last year. Before you went to Boston.”

They both knew she was avoiding mention of that day by the stream.

“Should something be bothering me?”

“What?”

“What is there for me to worry about, Analisa?”

“How should I know?” Her mind raced. Why hadn’t he called her Anja as was his habit now? Why hadn’t he spoken her name with the loving caress in his voice she’d grown used to?

“Where’s Kase?” he demanded.

The abrupt change of subject confused her for a moment.

“Kase?” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Kase is with Private Jensen. They went out rabbit hunting.”

His expression changed to one of concern.

“Where?”

“Not far. Toward the river, I think. I’m sure Tor will be careful with him.”

“That kid can barely take care of himself, let alone Kase.”

“They should be back soon. Besides, I think Tor misses his family deeply. Kase reminds him of his own brothers and sisters; that’s why the major assigns him to us as orderly whenever he can.”

As soon as the words were spoken, Analisa knew she’d said something wrong. She knew now how the prey of a hawk must feel in its final moments.

“The major.” A muscle tensed in his jaw and failed to relax.

“Yes, the major. He’s very perceptive.”

“Perceptive?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you learn the word
perceptive?”

“Reading. I’ve had plenty of time for reading. You have been gone two weeks.”

“You don’t have to tell me how long I’ve been gone. I can count. I’m sure the major was very solicitous while I was away, inquiring as to your needs and wishes. Have you learned what
solicitous
means?”

She shook her head. She could feel the edge of the dresser pressing against her hips. Caleb towered over her; for some reason he was trying to intimidate her. That was more than enough to raise her ire. Analisa straightened, ready to do battle, ready to clear the air.

“He was very polite, yes.”

“Coming up with all sorts of suggestions and ways to keep you amused? Outings to the reservation to visit the poor and the downtrodden? That sort of thing?”

“Among others. There’s to be a party. A dance in honor of Captain Boynton’s sister.”

“And Williamson asked to escort you? I’m sure he hoped your husband would still be away.”

The searing hatred that suddenly flashed in his eyes warned her not to push him further.

“Of course not.” She tried to temper her tone, but failed, as her own anger mounted. What kind of woman did he think she was?

Suddenly, as if he’d slapped her, her heart constricted inside her breast. Caleb sounded no different from the people of Pella. Because she’d been raped and had borne a child of that rape, they assumed she would not care about her reputation because she had none to care about.

She let out a heavy sigh. Stubborn pride strengthened by long years of facing such prejudice helped her maintain her proud stance, but she could not meet his eyes and so simply looked away.

Caleb reached out and grabbed her shoulders, his fingers biting into the tender skin beneath the gray batiste. He wanted to shake her, force her to deny that there was anything between her and Frank Williamson. Instead, he studied her profile. Her mouth was set in a stubborn pout, the lush bottom lip all but begging him to kiss it. Standing so close, he could smell the subtle fragrance of her flowery talcum. It was his undoing.

Slowly, he released his iron grip on her shoulders and lined his right hand to her chin, gently turning her face until their eyes met. Caleb dipped his head until his lips touched hers, tentatively at first, unsure of her acceptance. When he felt her arms slide beneath his and her hands press against his spine, Caleb deepened his kiss, pulling her closer, molding her to him, thigh against thigh, their hearts beating wildly against each other in welcome, saying all that their words left unsaid.

His tongue explored the depths of her mouth, his skin felt warm from the bathwater, and Analisa reveled in his clean scent as his damp hair brushed her cheek. The days of separation had heightened her need for him, and she sensed that same pulsing need in Caleb. He held her so tightly, bending her over the dresser, that she felt as if she would break in two. Sliding her hands to his sides, she pushed against the solid wall of him, trying to break free.

Caleb’s lips released hers. He raised his head but did not relinquish his hold. “You’re mine, Anja.” He ground the words out, his voice low, threatening. “I won’t let anyone else have you.”

“No one else wants me.” She fully believed her own words.

He straightened, his arms still around her waist, as he held her possessively. “Either you’re playing me for a fool or you’re more naive than I thought.”

“Caleb, why are you treating me like this?”

“Like what? I have every right to be jealous. You are a beautiful woman.”

“I am your wife. Not some ...
hoer.”
She waved her hand in frustration. “I don’t know the English. I am not some woman who goes from man to man. Caleb, you are my husband.”

“What choice did you have, even in that?”

“You gave me a choice. I chose to marry you.”

“Yes, but you were forced into it by that spineless minister who catered to the whims of those controlling the collection plate. If you’d had a real choice, you’d never have chosen me. I was the only one around and the first to ask. We’re from two different worlds.”

He released her and took a step backward, but his eyes never left her face. The bodice of her dress outlined the ripe swell of her breasts, drawing his attention away from her thoughtful stare. Her figure had filled out since their arrival at the fort, the little weight she’d gained adding a lushness to her form that had been lacking before. She was rounded now, softer, while retaining her strong Junoesque stature. A sense of wonder overwhelmed him at times when he realized she was his. Perhaps there was something behind Ruth’s belief in a destiny charted by the stars; maybe his marriage to Analisa proved it. Never could he have foreseen marriage to a woman like her. Perhaps their meeting had been part of a plan set in motion long before he passed out at her door.

His own mother, Gentle Rain, had been a typical Sioux woman. Small of stature, her body had been soft and lush, much like those of the other women he’d known in his youthful summers while he lived among her people. He’d surmised early on that if he ever took a wife, she would most likely be Sioux. The women he’d met in his father’s social circle in Boston had not been much to his liking, and he’d sensed that he was nothing more to them than an exotic curiosity, someone to experiment with, but not a man they would seriously consider marrying. Even his wealth had not been enough to disguise the fact that he was a half-breed.

Now, as he studied his Dutch wife, with her shining sun-kissed hair, her pert nose, her lips tender from his kiss, he felt his heart swell with pride and determination. She was his, but he would have to guard her well, for Analisa was quite unaware of her own beauty and powerful sensuality.

“Forced into it?” She repeated his words. “No one forces me into anything, Caleb. Not anymore. I take care of myself and Kase. I listened to you that day, and believed I was doing what was right for my son, but I was not forced.”

“But now you are out of that life. Here no one knows you, Analisa. You can start over if you want to, without being haunted by the past.”

She shook her head, unsure of what he was hinting at.

“I have started over, Caleb ... with you.”

She couldn’t fathom the reason behind his words. Hadn’t her kiss told him all he needed to know? She longed for him to stop talking and take her into his arms again. Should she reach out to him, tell him with her body that he was the man she desired, the only one she needed? Uncertain, afraid of being condemned by her forwardness, she stood immobile, waiting for Caleb to move. Perhaps she was becoming too free in her desire for him. Was it wrong to lust after one’s own husband? She hoped not, for if it was, she was surely lost.

Reaching out, she touched his shoulder, her fingertips thrilling to the satin smooth feel of his skin. “Caleb ...”

The words she was about to speak were cut off as the back door slammed shut. They heard Kase running through the kitchen.

“Mama? Mama, I’m back. We shot a rabbit!”

Without another word, Analisa dropped her hand and turned away from Caleb to go to her son. She stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, allowing Caleb to dress in privacy before Kase charged in, eager to see him.

“Papa’s home, Kase. He’ll be out in a moment.”

“I have to tell him all about the rabbit. Tor shot it, and then we rode over and picked it up. It’s all ready for you to cook. He let me watch him skin it, and he’s going to give me the fur. Do you think we could make something out of it?” Kase chattered to her over his shoulder, leading Analisa back into the kitchen where Tor Jensen waited with the skinned rabbit.