Unforsaken (2 page)

Without so much as a nod, she made her way out of the store, hesitating only a moment when his voice reached her ears.

"Merry Christmas, Livvy."

Her steps never faltered, but the endearment knifed through her heart. No one, not even her parents, had ever called her anything but Olivia. Only Matthew had bestowed upon her enough affection to merit a pet name.

To her horror, her eyes began to burn with tears, and she wished desperately that she'd taken the buggy to the store. All she could do was hurry down the street, swallowing back her tears, and pray no one would try to stop and speak to her. Once inside the safety of her office at the mill, she let herself relax enough to gulp deep, calming breaths.

I will not cry. I won't.

She didn't. Instead, she crossed the room and began sorting through the neatly stacked papers on her desk. The ledgers were all in balance, and the men had been given their pay vouchers that included a generous Christmas bonus in addition to having a half-day Christmas Eve and all day Christmas off work with pay. Olivia Chandler's workers were loyal, and that to her was worth losing a day's profit.

Indeed, she prized allegiance, whatever the cost. She'd been scarred once by betrayal and vowed it wouldn't happen again. What she couldn't understand was why seeing him hurt so badly. She had put him from her mind, refusing to grieve for someone who cared so little for her, and avoided social occasions he was likely to attend.

Several of her so-called friends accused her of being bitter. Well, maybe she was, but she had reason to be.

She had even gone so far as to move her church membership to the New Hope Methodist Church. Nothing came between Olivia Chandler and a grudge, not even God. Still, it galled her to think of all the ladies at the First Baptist Church whispering about her and shaking their heads in disbelief at her refusal to be gracious about her situation.

To hear them, one would think Olivia should have welcomed Matthew's wife with open arms and wished them well. The last straw had been receiving a written invitation to attend a baby shower the ladies had planned for the new bride. Hell would freeze over before she would wish that woman anything but misery.

Matthew Bowen had been the kind of boy every man wanted for a son, and the last young man a mother wanted courting her daughter. He was wealthy and handsome but had the reputation of being reckless and defiant, caring nothing for society parties or debutante balls. He scoffed at the idea of some husband-hunting female adding his name to her dance card.

No wonder everyone had been stunned when he began to pursue Olivia, whom they considered plain and awkward.

Suddenly, she grew angry at the thought. She had been love-struck, easily manipulated, and he had taken advantage of her innocence. Or had he simply assumed she would be so grateful for a husband, she would take him on any terms? If anything, she was lucky to be rid of him.

"Do you intend to hate me the rest of your life?"

Startled, she whirled around to see Matthew standing just inside the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Summoning every ounce of pride she had, Olivia raised her chin and said, “I have better things to do than hate you."

"But you do,” he countered. “Don't pretend you don't."

"Why would I do that?” she countered, wishing she felt nothing for him at all. “To spare your feelings? Oh, my, I would never forgive myself if I caused you a moment's grief."

"Olivia, you know I'm sorry for what happened, but I can't change things."

"I'd say you've already changed things enough.” Indeed, every dream she'd held on to throughout the war crumbled when he'd stepped off that train, dragging his bride along with him.

Without invitation, he walked inside her office and closed the distance between them. She backed away, refusing to look at him. Her lips were trembling, and she could feel her eyes filling with tears. She started to turn away from him but a gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her.

His arms closed around her and she buried her face against his shoulder, hating him for seeing her cry. She couldn't help remembering another time she had cried in his arms. The day of her mother's funeral, she had slipped away from the house and hidden in the woods. It was nearly dark when he found her huddled against the trunk of an ancient oak tree. Her father had been furious with her for running off and sent Matthew and her brother, Ryan, to find her.

"It's all right to cry,” he had whispered, resting his cheek against her forehead.

They had been little more than children, but Olivia knew in that moment that she loved Matthew Bowen. Just as she knew in this moment that she loved him still.

She glanced up, and he smoothed a tear away from her face with the pad of his thumb. Olivia knew he meant to kiss her and could not summon the strength to refuse. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as if she were something fragile The touch of his lips awakened forgotten memories of stolen embraces, and she shuddered in his arms. He drew her more closely to him, and the kiss lost its sense of reverence.

Her lips parted easily beneath his and he deepened the kiss. Her arms found their way around his neck and his mouth left hers to seek the sensitive flesh at the base of her throat.

The feel of his hands on her breasts drew a gasp of alarm that he easily silenced with another hungry kiss. He was expertly searching out the tiny buttons of her blouse, and she was helpless to resist. She had resigned herself to never seeing him again and now found herself drowning in the taste of his kisses. The warmth of his hands burned her flesh as he lowered his head to kiss the swell of her bosom.

With the slightest touch, he traced the cleft between her breasts with his tongue, and she combed her fingers through his hair, holding on, feeling dizzy and too weak to stand.

"Olivia,” he whispered, lowering both of them to the floor. “I know you want me, I know you love me."

She could only nod, her lips throbbing from his kisses and her mouth greedy for the taste of him. Consumed with passion, lust and desire, all of which she had denied herself, she made little protest when he smoothed his hands under her skirt and over her legs, lingering on her thighs and cupping her buttocks.

He kissed her again, and it was she who deepened the kiss, tightened her arms around his neck. A sense of urgency flared between them, and he wrested her body free of her undergarments and fumbled with his own clothes.

She felt him hesitate, and he searched her face before easing her thighs apart. He kissed her again and tentatively thrust his body into hers, moving forward when her nails dug into his shoulders. A sharp stab of pain startled Olivia, and she gasped, “No, don't. We can't—"

"Shh, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips. “It'll pass and then I'll make you feel so good."

Another movement of his hips gained complete penetration and she cried out in panic, desperately pushing him away from her. “Stop it!"

He froze momentarily, his expression grim and disbelieving, but he rose to his feet as if anxious to be away from her. She sat up and felt the utter degradation of what she had allowed to occur. This was the man who had betrayed her, spurned her, humiliated her before the entire county, and now with just a few kisses, he had her willing to be his whore.

His back was toward her as he adjusted his clothing, and she hurried to do the same. What a picture she must make, sprawled on the floor with her blouse gaping open and her skirt twisted up around her waist. She scrambled to her feet before he turned back around. When he did, she faced him as defiantly as she could.

"Don't you dare say I forced you,” he challenged, and she was surprised by the anger in his expression.

"Surely to God, you don't think I would breathe a word of this to another living soul.” The cool tone of her own voice surprised her for, inside, her heart was racing and her stomach felt tied in knots. “I would rather die than have anyone know I allowed you to ruin me."

His eyes narrowed. “Or that you wanted me to."

Her control snapped, and her own rage rushed to the surface. She resisted the urge to slap him, but her reply was no less stinging. “At least I'm not the first woman to make that mistake."

He advanced on her, grasping her shoulders. “Olivia, listen to me."

"No!” Wrenching herself from his arms, she staggered back and clutched the gaping front of her blouse together. “I want you to leave."

"Not until we've said the things that need to be said."

She shook her head, backing away from him. “I have nothing to say to you. Go home ... home to your wife."

The contempt in her voice made each word sound like a curse, and his eyes narrowed. She wanted him to be angry, to hurt the way she did. “And home to your
baby."

Right away, Olivia regretted the spiteful words but desperately needed something—anything—to shield her wounded pride. She didn't look away, daring him to retaliate, but he only looked at her with regret and walked out of the office without a word. Wasting no time, she rushed to close and lock the door.

Her fingers remained clenched around the solid brass knob, and she let her forehead rest against the door's smooth mahogany finish.

"I will not cry.” Her voice was no more than a ragged whisper, but the words penetrated her heart. The tightness in her throat lessened and she realized she had no more tears left.

Matthew had sworn to forget about Olivia, not to let what might have been haunt him, but the most unlikely things would bring her to mind. He had no right to want her, to long for her, to need her so desperately. It was little comfort to know that she was no longer the sweet, bashful girl he remembered when he was to blame for the bitterness in her heart.

"Promise me..."

"Anything. What do you want?"

"Promise me that you ... won't marry my sister."

"What?"

"Look, I'm dying, I know that."

"Ryan, just hold on. Wait until the doctors—"

"I'm dying, damn it! Listen to me. If you marry her, Father will disown her, and she won't have me to protect her."

"I can take care of her."

"He'll ruin you just to punish her. Just promise me you won't marry her."

Matt swore out loud and slammed the ax blade into the log, splintering the wood in two, and savored the sharp pain that ricocheted up his arm and stung his shoulder. He'd been a fool to listen to Ryan, a fool to let the ranting of a dying man cloud his judgment. Ryan had been his best friend since they were boys, and he felt bound to honor his last wish. It seemed only right. Matt resolved himself to the fact that Olivia would never be allowed to marry him or dare defy her father.

Even if he had received her reply to his letter, it would have been too late. He'd already made the biggest mistake of his life.

He just couldn't get over the way she'd looked at him that day in the store. For an instant, her heart had been in her eyes. and he knew that she still cared for him. Just as quickly, the warmth in her eyes had vanished, and she regarded him as something she wanted to avoid stepping in. He deserved her contempt, but facing it was a different story.

His only reason for confronting her was to make her understand that he had not betrayed her, and in doing so he'd wronged her even more. He had been a fool to ever touch her, let alone kiss her.

It had all been too much. The feel of her body against his, the taste of her tears mingling with his kisses. Something had snapped inside him and he couldn't resist her. Wild ideas ran through his mind. They would run away that very night. Leave everything behind and go where no one would find them—but Olivia wasn't ready. Not for him, not for desperate actions and certainly not for physical passion.

She'd been a virgin, deserving courtship and seduction, not a hasty tumble. In his haste, he'd ruined everything. She felt violated and hated him all the more.

He glanced past the weathered barn, toward the fields that lay barren as far as the eye could see, and tried to see some sort of future. Come spring the land would be tilled and sown, and the rest would be up to the Lord. Rain or drought, Matthew hated knowing that his very existence hinged on the whims of nature.

His father had considered himself a farmer, not a gentleman planter, and Matthew had learned early the realities of work in the field. Only now was he thankful for that experience. While so many displaced southern aristocrats were struggling to learn the concept of living by the sweat of their own brow, Matthew was already preparing for the labor that awaited him.

His father had taught him hard word and the war had taught him hardship, but nothing had prepared him for poverty. The war had taken everything. His father had died while he was away, and the livestock was quickly looted by soldiers and fleeing refugees. Only the land remained, and that in itself was a miracle.

Still gazing across the barren fields, he tried to picture them green and bountiful, but all he saw, all he felt was emptiness.

Chapter Two

Spring 1867

"I don't mean to sound critical, Olivia, but it isn't wise to court contempt."

"Courting contempt? I assure you, my intentions are not that honorable."

Everyone at the dining room table laughed, but she didn't miss the nervous clattering of silver on china. Olivia rather liked shocking people either by words or actions, but words always garnered a more immediate response. Indeed, Rodger nearly choked on his coffee, and the preacher's wife turned a bright shade of pink.

Rodger Kirk was Olivia's cousin on her mother's side of the family, and he and his wife, Ada, always joined them for Sunday dinner. What had started out as a one-time invitation somehow became a weekly tradition, but Olivia didn't mind their presence as much as she did their presumptuous attitude toward their status as
family.
If she and Aunt Eula were hurting for money and had nothing to put on the table, it was doubtful Rodger and Ada would even darken their door.

Rodger forked a second helping of baked ham from the serving platter onto his plate, clearing his throat before he spoke. “The mill is doing well enough on its own without dealing with carpetbaggers and Yankees."