by Nan Ryan
Her arms stretched above her head, her legs open to him, Laurette hung there in the pink and pastel gloaming of the dying light, gazing down on the man between her legs. The sight of him there, the feel of his mouth and tongue on her sensitive flesh, the knowledge that he would do this to her at her request, caused her release to involuntarily begin.
“Ohhh,” she breathed, momentarily releasing her tight hold of the rings. “Sutton, Sutton,” she called his name as her coming climax vibrated through her.
“Mmmm,” he said, never taking his loving mouth from her.
Laurette’s pale thighs squeezed his handsome head and she clung to the rings as the heat between her legs spread throughout her slender body and blinding ecstasy took her to new erotic heights. She cried out in her bliss and her body jerked spasmodically until the incredible joy began to subside. Then she went totally limp.
Sutton carefully removed her legs from his shoulders and lowered her feet back to the floor. He rose and looked at her. She was incredibly beautiful standing there—naked with her arms stretched up to the rings and her slender body wet. An expression of total bliss crossed her flawless face. He gently put his arms around her and drew her close, letting her feel his pulsating erection against her belly as he tenderly held her.
“Baby, sweet baby,” he murmured as he caressed her back.
“Sutton,” she gasped, “I’m so—”
“I know, sweet, I know.”
Again he kissed her and he kept on kissing her until at last she was eagerly kissing him back. He spent several patient minutes arousing her again. She was shocked that, so soon after coming as she had, she wanted him—that she could hardly wait to feel him inside her once again.
He could tell she was ready. He kissed her one last time and cautioned, “Don’t let go.”
“No, no, I won’t.”
Sutton curled his hands beneath her thighs and easily lifted her up. When she was positioned directly above his hard male flesh, he carefully, skillfully lowered her down to the gleaming tip. Laurette was skeptical. He couldn’t put it in without one or the other of them guiding it. Could he?
He could.
He did.
While they both watched, Sutton managed to lower Laurette onto his wet throbbing shaft. Both moaned as she eagerly slid down onto him and he clenched the twin cheeks of his buttocks before gently thrusting upward. When he was fully inside her, Sutton stood flat-footed and made love to Laurette. With his hands beneath her thighs, he controlled her, pressing her closer, then moving her back, as the pleasure increased.
“My lord,” she said, on fire again, “tell me you’ll make love to me all night. And all day tomorrow. I’ve seen you and now I feel you inside me and I want more and ever more.”
Pleased, Sutton promised, “That’s up to you, sweetheart. Any time you can get me hard, you can have me.”
“I’ll get you hard and keep you that way,” she vowed, her dark eyes glazed with lust.
Sutton was not nearly as cool and controlled as he seemed to be. The truth was that her simple touch burned his flesh and made him thobbingly erect inside her. He was seized with an excitement that had him aching with his need to climax immediately. But he held himself in check. Caught up in the sensations trembling through his shaft, he purposely slowed his advance to prolong the building ecstasy.
For several thrilling minutes, the pair made love there in the open doorway with Laurette clinging to the rings and Sutton standing flat-footed before her, setting the pace.
As the lights of Mobile flickered on across the water and full darkness descended, it was Laurette who cried out first. Clinging desperately to the iron loops, she lunged and writhed and Sutton felt himself hotly enveloped in a sheath of blazing flame that quickly raged out of control, racing through his entire body. With a loud groan he held the now sobbing Laurette to him and let the flood pour out of him with a fury that left him weak and dazed.
For a long moment the two of them stayed as they were, trembling, breathing hard, stunned by the depth of their shared climax.
Finally Sutton spoke. “You can let go now, darling.”
“Oh, oh yes. All right,” Laurette sobbed and lowering her tired arms around his neck, laid her head on his shoulder and whispered, “But don’t you ever let go of me.”
Sutton smiled, kissed her temple but gave no reply.
Thirty-Five
It began as just another wonderful interlude for the lovers. In the final days of a sweltering, seemingly endless July, Laurette and Sutton spent a glorious weekend on the island. Late Friday evening when they arrived, they spread a blanket on the beach. Sutton gathered driftwood and built a fire. They had a picnic hamper filled with food. After they dined on cheese, smoked ham, boiled shrimp and French bread, they lay on their backs and searched the heavens for falling stars.
On Saturday morning they slept late and Sutton served Laurette hot coffee and chilled juice in bed. After which, she insisted on making him breakfast. They lolled lazily about all day, not doing much of anything. Late that afternoon, they went for a long walk on the beach, holding hands, saying little, silently enjoying the beauty and serenity surrounding them. When they returned from the stroll, they sat down on the front steps.
As they talked quietly, a huge butterfly landed on the braids of Laurette’s upswept hair. Sutton raised his hand, placing his palm near her head. The delicatewinged creature fluttered into his cupped palm and he held it out for Laurette to see.
“What a lovely butterfly,” she said.
“It’s known to lepidopterists as the great purple hairstreak.”
“Really?” She tilted her head and gazed at him. “Lepidopter…ah…”
“Lepidopterists. Specialists in the study of butterflies and lepidopteran insects.”
“How do you know so much about butterflies?”
“I had years to study them,” he said and, continuing to hold the powdery purple butterfly in his palm, vividly recalled the day in the dungeon when just such a butterfly came into his cell and sat on his hand. It was the same day he had vowed to serve justice to all those who had betrayed him.
“Oh, no,” Laurette said, as the butterfly abruptly took wing, sailing off into the gathering twilight. “Come back,” she called.
“It won’t come back,” he said.
“Mmmm.” A few seconds passed, then she asked, “And where exactly did you study butterflies?”
“It was a long time ago,” he replied. “Let’s go inside. I’m hungry.”
“Me, too!”
Arms around each other, they went inside. An hour later, they dined by candlelight, drank wine and went back outdoors to lie in the hammock as the moon rose over the water.
Late Sunday afternoon, as the long, lovely weekend was coming to a close, Sutton lay stretched out in the hammock on the front gallery, hands folded beneath his head. Laurette had insisted he get out of the house and leave her alone while she prepared an early dinner.
Sutton was half dozing when all at once Laurette came dashing out the house, skipped down the steps and headed for the beach. She wore a plain pink cotton dress. Her blond hair was pinned haphazardly atop her head and she was barefooted. She was laughing as she raced across the sugary sand toward the water.
Sutton sat up, swung his long legs over the side of the hammock. He rose to his feet and went down the gallery steps to watch her. He stood with his feet apart, hands on his hips. He threw back his head and laughed gaily, his white teeth flashing when, a few yards from the water’s edge, Laurette stopped abruptly, stripped off her dress and dropped it to the sand. She wore nothing beneath. She raced forward and dove naked into the surf.
Sutton continued to laugh merrily. What a playful nymph she was, what a joy to be with. When his laughter subsided, he shaded his eyes with one hand and continued to watch her splash about like a happy child. He stood stock-still and watched, mesmerized, when moments later Laurette emerged from the sea, dripping wet and breathtakingly beautiful.<
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And in this moment, at the sight of her running toward him, her beautiful body glistening in the sunshine, the base of power shifted. It was now all hers, not his.
He was, he realized with a jolt of shock and sadness, still very much in love with this woman he’d known since the day she was born. He watched Laurette approach, laughing and pushing her damp hair back off her lovely face, and he felt his chest tighten.
God, he couldn’t leave her.
Not again.
At such a prospect there came a terrible sinking sensation, an unexpected feeling of loss. The heart he had thought immune to pain would break once more if he left her again. If he lost her again. The remembrance of his past love for the young Laurette conquered any lingering desire for vengeance. All his money, power and influence paled and became nothing in the face of love. He loved Laurette even more now than he had when they were young. His heart hammering in his bare chest, Sutton slipped off his white duck trousers and ran to meet Laurette.
She squealed with delight when he swept her up into his arms and dashed into the sea. While the waves lapped gently and the blazing July sun beat down on them, the pair made love in the water and when Sutton said, “I love you, Laurette,” he meant it.
“And I love you,” she said. “Carry me back to the house?”
“It will be my pleasure.”
Sutton was very sure of his love for Laurette, but he was now faced with a serious dilemma. He had to tell her who he really was. He couldn’t allow her to spend the rest of her life believing he was Sutton Vane. Or could he? Would that be so unfair?
He seriously considered doing just that because he was greatly troubled at the thought of telling her the truth. Would she forgive him, knowing what his cruel intention had been? He wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to him again.
“Sutton, what’s wrong?” Laurette asked later that evening as they dined on the veranda.
“Wrong?” he replied, swallowing with difficulty.
“Yes, wrong,” she said. “Ever since we came in from our swim, you’ve been withdrawn. You haven’t said two words all evening. Something is bothering you. Tell me what it is.”
He took a bolstering drink of wine, nodded and said, “Laurette, stay right where you are, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Now she was really curious and half-worried, but she smiled at him and promised, “I’ll be right here waiting, my love.”
Sutton rose and hurried inside. Shortly he returned to the veranda and, for the first time since she had met him, he was clean shaven. The black beard was gone. His handsome face, devoid of hair, was a smooth olive hue. Her lips parting, Laurette stared at him, her brows knitting, a chill skipping up her spine.
He came around the table, crouched down beside her chair, took her hand in his and said, “Dearest one, there’s something that I—I have to tell you. Promise you won’t be too angry with me.”
Unsettled, continuing to stare at him as if seeing him for the first time, yet realizing that there was something hauntingly familiar about him, she said quietly, “Darling, I could never be angry with you. Tell me.”
He looked at her for a long moment, dreading having to admit the terrible truth. He could wait no longer. He prayed she would understand and forgive him.
“I’m not Sutton Vane,” he said simply. “I’m Ladd Dasheroon.”
Her forehead wrinkled. She made a face. She shook her head as if to clear it. She examined him closely as his startling confession rang in her ears.
“No. No, you’re not Ladd,” she said, refusing to believe him. “Ladd died in a Yankee prison during the war.”
“I was in prison, but I didn’t die. I escaped.”
“No, it can’t be. You’re not Ladd, you’re not. I know you’re not.”
“I am, sweetheart. I really am. I’m the same Ladd that made love to you down by the river in the darkness the night before I left for West Point. You and I took music lessons from Miss Foster when we were kids. We were born on the same day, a year apart, and we always had our birthday parties together. It was at one of those parties when we first kissed, first confessed our love for each other.” He stopped talking, waiting for it all to sink in.
He saw bright tears spring to her dark eyes, but she did not cry, nor did she speak. For a long, tense moment Laurette said nothing. She sat perfectly still, rigid and silent, shaking inside, torn between the strong desire to throw herself into his arms and kiss his handsome face and the equally strong impulse to hurt him badly, to hit him and scream at him and banish him from sight.
Ladd, on his knees beside her, held his breath. He realized that it could go either way.
Her teeth firmly clamped together, Laurette thought back over all the sad, empty years that she had grieved for this man who was kneeling beside her. Dear God, he had been alive all along and had never let her know. Damn him! Damn him! Damn him to eternal hell!
Thirty-Six
Her anger swiftly rising, Laurette wrenched her hand from his. “You cruel, heartless bastard!” she said through clenched teeth. “Just what is this evil game, Ladd Dasheroon? Why the pretense? Tell me, I’m a bit confused.”
He rose to face her. “Oh, Lollie, I can explain if—”
“Don’t call me that!” she interrupted. “Never again. I want an explanation and I want it now! What was your reason for doing this? Why did you pretend to be someone else?”
Ladd exhaled heavily. He couldn’t avoid the truth. He had to tell her. “Let’s sit down and—”
“No! I don’t want to sit down,” she fumed, hugging her arms to her chest and moving a step back from him. “I want you to tell me what’s going on and why you have lied to me all this time.”
Ladd knew he had to confess. But he began by saying, “I will tell you. I’ll tell you everything. But first let me say that there has never been a day, an hour, a minute in my life that I didn’t love you, Laurette.”
“Liar!” she accused. “If you loved me—”
“I do love you, so help me God.” He drew a deep breath and said, “Laurette, I was wounded in the war and captured by the Union forces. They threw me in a terrible place called Devil’s Castle prison. I spent many long years in prison, most of them down in a dark dungeon alone. Perhaps I wasn’t strong enough, I don’t know. All I know is that such an experience made it hard to think straight, to keep a grip on one’s sanity.”
He looked at her, hoping to read her emotions. She stared at him and revealed nothing.
He continued, “After I had been at Devil’s Castle for a year, Jimmy was installed as commandant of the prison. With his arrival, I was sure everything would be better for me. Easier. I was wrong. So wrong.” Again he paused. Then he declared simply, “It was Jimmy who had me thrown into the dungeon.”
“No, that can’t be…Jimmy wouldn’t…he was your best friend.”
“Jimmy had me locked up in the dungeon. He did it so that he could have you. I hadn’t known, but apparently he had always wanted you.” Her lips fell open and she stared at him in horror. He hurried on, “When the war ended he came home to Mobile and you immediately married him. You married him not knowing if I was alive or dead.”
“That’s a lie!” she defended herself. “Jimmy said you had died in prison. I had no reason to believe otherwise. I hadn’t heard a word from you in ages and—”
“Devil’s Castle allowed no incoming or outgoing mail.”
“I believed that you were dead,” she repeated.
“Even so…you married him within weeks of learning I was dead.” Ladd said.
“What was I supposed to do? Bury my heart with you? I did that, damn you, but my body, unfortunately, had to survive. I had no parents, no money, I was destitute. I hadn’t heard from you in over two years. Jimmy was there at time when I needed him, offering help and understanding. Federal occupation and their ruinous reconstruction taxes had left me a pauper.” She drew a quick breath and continued, “Maybe I’m shallow and selfish, but I didn’t
want to starve like some people I knew. So, yes, yes I married Jimmy. How was I to know he had lied? I had no reason to doubt him. I didn’t know you were alive!” She was shouting now, her face growing red with emotion. Her hands went to her hips and her dark eyes flashed fire. “I believed that you were dead, that I would never see you again. Had I known the truth, I would never have married Jimmy or anyone else.”
“I wasn’t dead and I vowed that I would live and get out of prison and—and—”
Cutting in, Laurette said, “All that aside, the war has been over for sixteen years. Why did you wait all this time to come home?”
“I was in prison long after the war ended,” he said. “I finally escaped in ’75.”
She frowned, but said, “Why didn’t you come home then? And why have you used an alias? Why have you allowed me to believe that you were someone else?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a hand up, palm out and screamed at him, “Why? Why? Why?”
Ladd started to explain, but his justification sounded unsatisfactory even to himself. Only weeks ago his judgment had seemed quite sound; now, he questioned his sanity. He wished he had never hatched the cruel plot. He repeatedly apologized and begged for Laurette’s forgiveness.
She staunchly withheld it and when he attempted to take her in his arms, she coldly ordered, “Don’t touch me. Never touch me again.” Her eyes narrowing, she said, “You were in prison? Well, so was I. You’ll be happy to know that I was miserable with Jimmy. I never loved him, didn’t even like him very much.”
His heart aching with regret, Ladd said, “Oh, God, darling, I’m so sorry for everything. Please try to understand how I felt when I heard that you had married Jimmy. I couldn’t believe that the precious girl who was mine, who had promised to wait forever, had forgotten so easily.”
“I didn’t forget. Never, ever. I had no other choice!”
“I believe you and—”
“I don’t give a damn what you believe, you callous, calculating son of a bitch. This evil charade is coming clear to me now. You destroyed Jimmy for betraying you. It is you who owns the bank where he was president. You who had him caught for embezzling. You had him divorce me and leave the country. It was you! Admit it!”
