The Right Wife (16 page)

“Oh Maggie.”

Her hands moved onto his chest, threading their way through the hair, savoring its silky feel against her fingertips. When one hand inched downward, fondling his stomach as her face nuzzled against his chest, Aaron stiffened, taking her hand and leading it below his waist.

“Touch me,” he pleaded. “I want to feel your hand around me.”

Obeying, Maggie enclosed his manhood within her hand. “Like this?”

Covering her hand with his own, he squeezed, then taught her the movements to please him.

Her touch drove him wild. He groaned and sighed and whispered outrageous love words into her ears. When he could bear no more, he pulled away from her, his own big hand lifting her breasts. He savored the sight of her perfection, his mouth hungry to suckle her beauty. Maggie jerked once, twice, when his mouth covered one begging nipple and his fingers toyed with the other.

“I want to love you.” He spread her legs apart with his knee as he pushed his manhood against her feminine mound. “Feel how badly I need you.”

“Make love to me, Aaron. Make this night one we’ll always remember.”

With one earth-shattering lunge, he joined their bodies in sweet ecstasy. For only moments, he lay unmoving inside of her, simply enjoying the feel of perfect union. Gradually he moved, encouraging her body’s undulating responses. His mouth continued feasting at her breasts while her hands rubbed his chest, glorying in the sensations created by feminine flesh against manly hair.

Harder and faster he plunged, his breath ragged with passion. Her hips moved up and down, reaching for the pinnacle of bliss.

“Oh my God, woman, it’s never been so good.”

“Love me. Love me.”

In a blinding flash of completion, they reached fulfillment together, their bodies throbbing with a pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

“I love you,” he cried, his body trembling with release.

“I love you,” she sighed, satiation covering her like a downy, warm quilt.

They lay, naked and replete, touching, kissing, and whispering the sweet nothings of lovers. Much later, Aaron eased away from her. She watched him go to the desk, retrieve a bottle of pale brandy, and pour a liberal amount into two large, tapering glasses.

He returned, handling her one of the snifters. Maggie looked at the yellowish liquor, sniffing its distinct aroma. “What is it?”

“Pale brandy. Try it. It was my father’s favorite.”

Maggie raised the snifter to her lips and tasted sparingly. She was not accustomed to the taste of liquor, and she did not like it. “Phew . . .”

He laughed, and then sipped from his glass. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“It looks yellow,” Maggie said, gazing into the snifter.

“That’s because it was stored in oak casks. It reminds me of your eyes. I’ll never drink it again without thinking of you.”

Completely, unashamedly naked, they sat on the dark leather sofa in Martha Coleman’s house, and looked at each other, fresh longing awakening within them.

“I want to love you again, but I know it must be nearly dawn. You need to return to your room.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips.

“I don’t want to leave you. Not now, not ever.”

“Parting from you is like being damned to hell.”

“I know.” She pulled his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss into his open palm.

“Forgive me?”

“I can’t. You’ll be ruining three lives if you marry Eunice.”

“I . . . I’ll do what I must.”

Maggie stood. Her hair, tumbling in soft, wild curls to her waist, fell across her breasts as she bent to retrieve her clothing. Moonlight and lamplight combined to illuminate her perfect, young body, covering it with a gauzy cream blush.

“Then heaven help you, Aaron, because you’ve doomed us all to torment.”

M
aggie sat at the square wooden table, a large blue bowl in her arm and a long spoon in her hand. The hot August sun filled the spacious kitchen of the Coleman town house, making the already warm room sweltering. She could feel the rivulets of perspiration trickling down between her breasts as she steadily continued beating the cake batter. Sitting beside her, Daisy wiped the sweat from her face with the edge of the soiled gingham apron, and then continued shelling the pile of purple hull peas lying on the table.

A slight breeze came through the open back door, but its humid warmth gave no relief. Heat from the nearby stove added discomfort to this prenoon summertime day.

“I hope Mr. Micah appreciates you baking him a pound cake on a day this hot,” Daisy said, popping open another shell.

“Well, it’s not every day a boy turns seventeen.”

“He’s sure enough going to think he’s a man now.”

“I wish Thayer hadn’t offered him that job on Aaron’s riverboat. That’s all he’s talked about for two weeks now.” Maggie was afraid her brother would accept the offer and spend the next few years seeking adventures on the river instead of going off and getting himself an education.

“Well, if your plans for Mr. Micah don’t work out, there’s always Miss Jude,” Daisy laughed as she dropped a handful of pea pods into her lap. “Her spending time with Mrs. Mobley’s twins is bound to be good for her. Could be some of their highfalutin ways will rub off on her.”

“I sure hope so.”

“She’s mighty worked up about Mr. Thayer taking you all to the opera house tonight for Mr. Micah’s birthday. I ain’t never seen a child so love-sick over a grown man.”

“I worry about it sometimes, but I figure she’ll grow out of it. It seems you’re the only one in the family who’s going to get the man she wants.”

Daisy blushed but smiled shyly as she lowered her head, concentrating on her task. “He’s a fine man, Miss Maggie.”

Maggie could hear Aaron’s voice saying, “That’s how I met Phineas. He saved my life one night in a New Orleans barroom. He’s a man I respect.”

So much had happened in the four weeks since Thayer’s party. The dry, blazing hot month of July had faded into the first days of humid, overcast August, and she had seen nothing of Aaron. She had become convinced that the night they had shared at Silver Hill would be their last. No doubt, he was working hard at finishing the restoration at White Orchard and biding his time until he could ask Eunice to marry him. She was trying to put the pieces of her own life back together, but keeping her promise to Pa seemed less likely every day.

The atmosphere in town had changed some. Since word had spread that Martha Coleman had wined and dined the Campbells at her private dinner party, a few ladies deemed it acceptable to speak to her now, and she had actually acquired two more customers.

She did not like to think about the creature who had called on her a week ago inquiring about her services. It seemed that Miss Verda, a new girl at Loretta’s, was far more interested in getting a look at Thayer’s new lady friend than having any dresses made. Maggie had told that painted trollop a thing or two and shown her the door. The very idea that anyone would think that she, Margaret Mary Campbell, was Thayer’s latest mistress!

Unfortunately, Jude had witnessed the scene and asked Maggie countless questions. It had taken her quite some time to convince the child that there was nothing going on between Thayer and her. Right now, she could still manage to handle Judith, but Micah was something else altogether.

If Micah took the steamboat job, he would never finish school. She had long since given up her plans for him to join the ministry, but had continued hoping that he’d want to make something of himself.

Lord only knew what kind of trouble he’d get in traveling the river. In no time, he’d be smoking and drinking and bedding whores. Maggie shuddered at the thought. She figured Pa would be disappointed that she hadn’t been able to steer the boy in the right direction. But how could she make endless years of schooling compare favorably to unknown adventures on the riverboat routes?

“May I come in, Cousin Margaret?” a quiet voice called from the back porch.

Startled, Maggie jumped, then turned around to see Wesley Peterson, hat in hand, standing outside the kitchen door. Daisy stopped shelling peas, her hands trembling as she clutched the pan in her lap.

“I couldn’t get any answer at the front door, so I assumed you were around here at the back. I had the devil’s own time finding a path back here.” Wesley, his pudgy face red and sweaty, stepped inside the kitchen. Grunting, he said, “Mighty hot day we’re having.”

Maggie set her spoon and bowl on the table and stood to face the uninvited guest. “What are you doing here, Wesley?”

Daisy moved to stand, but dropped the pan of peas and an apron full of empty hulls onto the floor. She quickly fell to her knees, trying to retrieve the spillage. Her hands were shaking so badly that she stopped and clutched them together in an effort to calm herself.

Noticing the other woman’s agitated state, Maggie eyed Wesley briefly, and then turned to help Daisy as she stood behind Maggie, her head bowed.

“I’d like to speak to you alone, Cousin Margaret.”

“No, Miss Maggie,” Daisy whispered, grabbing her mistress by the arm. “Don’t you see that man alone.”

Puzzled by Daisy’s actions, Maggie turned to the woman. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing, Miss Maggie. I just think I should stay.” Daisy’s pale blue eyes glowed with some inner knowledge that frightened Maggie.

“I’ll be all right. You go on and get some chores done upstairs. Cousin Wesley won’t be staying long.”

Pleading silently with her mistress, Daisy hesitated a few minutes, but left the room quietly when she realized her warning was going unheeded.

“You give that gal too much freedom,” Wesley said, walking toward Maggie.

“Daisy is free. Her people have been free for over twenty years now.”

“They need to be kept in their place and not allowed to get any big notions about bettering themselves.”

“Wesley, why are you here?” Maggie could not imagine why her cousin-by-marriage had finally made his way to see her after six weeks of totally ignoring her existence.

“My mission is twofold, dear Margaret.” He stood directly in front of her, a broad smile softening his already flaccid features. “May I sit down?”

She did not want him here. She was not interested in anything he had to say, but common courtesy obliged her to invite him to join her. “By all means, please sit down.”

He helped seat Maggie before seating himself and rushing into conversation. “I want you to know that I regret everything that has happened. If I had not been so shocked, I would have been able to have seen things more clearly from the beginning and perhaps have helped you sooner.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you saying that you want to help me? Don’t you think you’re a little late?”

“Oh, my dear, I think not.” He reached across the table to take her hand. “I’m here to offer you a chance for forgiveness and a redeeming life.”

Maggie snatched her hand away, glaring into his gentle gray eyes, seeing a glimpse of the kind and caring man she had known and liked those first few weeks in her uncle’s home. “Please just go away and leave me alone.”

“But you don’t understand. I’m not here to condemn you. You’re a young girl who has made a mistake and needs forgiveness. I have forgiven you, dear Margaret, as has God.” Wesley reached for her hand again.

Maggie jumped away from him, pushing back her chair and quickly standing. “If that’s all you’ve come to say, then you’ve said it, and now you can go.”

Looking up at the beautiful redhead, he sighed. “Oh, dear girl. I’m here to offer you the chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of this community. Once the good people see you working so devoutly at my side, they will know that you’ve turned from the evil ways of sin.”

“Wesley!”

“We will never speak of what has transpired between you and Aaron Stone or young Coleman. I feel inspired by God to give you the chance for salvation. I think God has ordained our marriage.”

“Our marriage?”

“Yes, dear Cousin Margaret, I’m asking you to be my wife.”

At first, she was sure she had misunderstood, but when she realized that the good reverend had actually proposed marriage to her, she felt giddy and was unable to keep from laughing.

“I find nothing amusing in this.”

“Oh, Wesley, whatever would Aunt Tilly say?”

“I’ve spoken to Mama,” he admitted. “She has not given us her blessings yet, but I’m sure she will. After all, you are friends with Mrs. Coleman now, and Mama was greatly impressed that the dear lady has publicly accepted you.”

“I see. And what about us? We aren’t in love with each other.” Maggie wasn’t sure she even liked Wesley anymore.

“Oh, but Margaret, I do love you. And, I thought . . . that is to say . . . considering the fact that you’ll not be coming to our marriage bed a virgin, your gratitude should eventually grow into love.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, or tell Wesley Peterson to go to hell. The very thought of making love with this self-righteous idiot made her physically ill. “I can’t accept your offer.”

“Don’t be hasty. Take time and think about it. I won’t rush you, but I will be back when you’ve had time to consider the matter.”

“Wesley, I don’t need time.”

“Oh, but you do, my dear. When you’ve thought it through, you’ll realize that I’m your only hope.”

She stood and watched him leave, amazed that she had never realized the truth about Wesley before now. It seemed as if two different people possessed that large, round body: one, gentle and giving, the other, vindictive and quite insane.

Daisy walked into the kitchen, her blue eyes searching Maggie’s face for understanding. For long moments the two women stared at each other, an unspoken question and reply being exchanged.

Maggie was glad to finally be outside. Even with every window open and an abundance of hand fans, the opera house had been steamy with a midsummer, Southern-night heat. She felt wilted, and wondered how the serene Widow Arnold could appear so cool, standing there on the white-columned porch, her ivory cambric dress unstained by perspiration, every pastel bow still neatly tied as they adorned the entire length and width of her skirt.

The last two hours had been sheer torment. Between the smoldering discomfort of the humid night and the presence of Aaron and Eunice sitting directly across the aisle, the entire evening’s festivities had been ruined. She had barely noticed any of the play performed by local would-be thespians. From the moment she had caught sight of Aaron’s broad back as he turned to allow Eunice to precede him to their seats, Maggie had seen nothing but the golden couple, had heard nothing but the thud of her own angry heart beating in her ears, and had felt nothing but a soul-searing jealousy.

Aaron looked so handsome in his tan breeches and nut-brown coat, his gold silk tie, a shade darker than his mane of thick, blond hair. He had spoken to Eunice, and Maggie hated her. He had smiled at Eunice, and Maggie’s heart broke. He had held Eunice’s hand, and Maggie gasped, barely able to hold back the tears.

Once or twice, Thayer had patted her hand gently, and she had smiled at him in thanks. The last time, after patting, he raised her hand to his lips and looked past her across the aisle. Maggie’s eyes followed and immediately clashed with Aaron’s deadly jade glare. His lips had thinned to a hard, straight line, his jaw clenched tightly. She had looked away then, and prayed for the performance to end soon.

A gentle, warm breeze touched Maggie’s face and brushed stray curls forward about her bright pink cheeks. Aaron looked across the few yards that separated them there in front of the opera house. He longed to go to her. Why the hell hadn’t Thayer told him that he was bringing the Campbells here tonight? He had stayed far away from Maggie these last four weeks, as much for her sake as for his. He could offer her nothing except heartbreak and shame, and she deserved so much more.

It was obvious that she had a hard time controlling her thick, red hair. The bun atop her head was loose and tiny strands framed her face and curled down her neck. He remembered the feel of that silky mass, could, even now, smell the rainwater sweet aroma. He could also remember the feel and smell and taste of other fiery curls.

He cursed himself for being all kinds of a fool. During these past weeks, he had secluded himself at White Orchard, working day and night, driving the workers to the breaking point, trying to prepare the mansion for his bride. But it was not Eunice Arnold’s face he saw reflected in the ornate gold mirror in the master bedroom, nor was it Eunice’s happy laughter he heard in the long hallways. Maggie haunted every room in the old house, every acre of land over which he rode. And her presence was so alive in the pear orchard that he often thought he could see her lying there in the green grass, her arms reaching up to pull him onto her naked body.

He heard her laugh at something Thayer said, and white-hot jealousy shot through his body like fire. He had no right to be jealous of any man Maggie chose to be with, but the thought of her giving herself to anyone else was agonizingly painful. Had she slept with Thayer? Did he love her? Would he marry her? Damn, he had to stop tormenting himself over a woman he couldn’t have. He had made his choice. He had to stay true to his dreams. He owed it to himself. He owed it to his mother.

Taking Eunice by the arm he led her away past the crowd, trying to avoid Thayer and Maggie on their way to where Phineas was waiting with the carriage. He thought he had made it safely away, but he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Thayer’s voice. “You seem in a hurry tonight, Aaron. I wanted to talk to you.”

Dreading to turn around, he hesitated. Then he and Eunice turned together to the other couple.

“Hello, Thayer,” Aaron said.

Eunice merely smiled and nodded, completely ignoring Maggie, who was busy inspecting the ground.