by Craig, Emma
# # #
The first thing Jed did when he got to the stream was throw cold water over his face. Then he washed out his ears. Sitting back carefully, he tested them.
Nope. They still worked.
She must have said what he’d heard. Heard twice, because she’d repeated it.
He sat on the riverbank, absolutely still, for what seemed like an hour or two, although he knew it wasn’t. He tried to make sense of things. Ultimately, he gave up. There was no making sense of this.
Tacita wanted him to make love to her. Tacita Grantham wanted him, Jedediah Hardcastle, to make love to her.
There was no fathoming women, he reckoned, although this latest confirmation of their unfathomability surpassed him completely. Why on earth a tiny, beautiful, precious gem of a female like Tacita Grantham would want an ugly, hairy fellow like him pawing her outstripped his understanding.
He’d been too stunned to ask her to explain herself. Now he supposed it was too late.
Then, in a fit of determination, he decided that wasn’t true.
“No.” He said the word aloud to make himself believe it. “It isn’t too late.”
He had to know what in Hades she’d meant. She couldn’t possibly have meant what he’d heard. She must have been using some kind of mysterious city-speech that he didn’t understand.
He stood, knowing he was wrong in having left Tacita alone for so long. He was her guide and guard, after all. Anything might happen to her out here in this perilous territory. From wild animals to wild people to poisoned plants.
Shaking his head, he decided that was another thing he’d like to understand. Had she really thought he’d try to poison her? Taking out the bar of soap his ma had told him always to keep handy, Jed finished washing himself in the stream.
He did a thorough job of it. After all, if she’d meant what he thought he’d heard her say, he didn’t want to be smelly when they made love beside the fire. The thought sent a strong shaft of lust through him. It lodged in his sex and made walking back to the clearing difficult.
Tentatively stepping into the glen, Jed saw Tacita stiffen and look at him. Her eyes were as big as huckleberry muffins and as blue as the sky. Luggett Lake had nothing on her eyes when it came to blue.
Holding his hat before him in a gesture that would have made his parents proud and also served to hide his indelicate condition, he slowly made his way to Tacita. Rosamunda, he noticed, bristled immediately and began to growl low in her throat, low being a relative term. If ever God had created a soprano animal, that idiot dog was it.
Tacita didn’t rise to greet him. She stared at him almost sullenly. He couldn’t tell if she was mad or embarrassed.
“Er, ma’am?”
She couldn’t hold his gaze. “What?”
Jed licked his lips nervously. “Um. I, ah, wondered if you’d mind explaining something to me.”
He was going about this all wrong; he knew it. Shoot. Even though his carnal experience was rather large, his understanding of females was limited. Up till now, Jed would have told anybody who asked that there were two kinds of women. There were good women, like his mama, sisters, aunts, cousins and Miss Amalie Crunch; and there were bad women, like whores and divorcees.
Tacita Grantham had tossed his notions up into the air like so many dandelion puffs, and the wind had scattered them away. Up until several minutes ago, he would have categorized Tacita as belonging to the first group. In fact, he still did. That’s what was confusing him so badly.
“What?” She still wouldn’t look at him.
“Um . . .” He had to lick his lips again, and swallow. “Um, why do you want me to make love to you?”
Now she looked at him, balefully. “Well, why do you think?” She sounded resentful and not a little pugnacious.
“I don’t know,” he said simply, because it was the truth.
Tacita glared daggers at him for several moments. Then, her voice too loud, she said, “I wanted the experience, Mr. Hardcastle. I wanted to experience love-making for once in my life. Do you understand now?”
Her cheeks sported twin banners of red, as if she were either angry or mortified. Or both.
Jed swallowed and forged onward, truth and the sincere desire for knowledge propelling him. “Er, well, ma’am, no. I’m not sure I do understand.”
She gave an enormous huff. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
Feeling almost desperate, Jed said, “Don’t you want to save yourself for your husband, ma’am?”
He straightened all at once, the awful thought having struck him that Tacita wasn’t as innocent as he’d believed her to be. Jehosephat, what if she frolicked with every frontier guide she met up with? He’d heard some city women were peculiar that way and had always been disappointed not to have encountered one.
Immediately, he shook his head to dislodge the thought. He might not know what had prompted this strange start of hers, but he knew, deep down in his guts, that Tacita was still innocent. No man had sullied her; he’d swear to it.
“I don’t have a husband!”
He saw her lips tremble and felt terrible. He wasn’t sure he could stand it if she cried. “But, ma’am, that’s why we’re going to San Francisco, isn’t it? So’s you can marry up with that Mr. Jeeves fellow?”
“Reeve,” she said. “Edgar Jevington Reeve. And—and I don’t know if I’ll be marrying him or not.”
“But you might be.”
She lowered her head and looked even more resentful. “I suppose I might be.”
“Don’t you want to save yourself for him?”
Her head snapped up. “No! No, I don’t want to save myself for Edgar! There. Are you happy now?”
Scratching his head, befuddled, Jed said, “No.”
Tacita huffed again. Then she said, “Edgar’s—different.”
“Different?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She cast her glance into the trees in what looked like a perfect fever of frustration. “Yes! He’s different!”
“Different how?”
Scowling at him, she said, “He’s—he’s different from you.”
Different from him. Jed ruminated on that that one for a moment. Different. How was Jeeves different from Jed?
Well, Jed was an American and Jeeves was an Englishman. Intuitively, Jed knew that wasn’t the correct answer and ruminated some more.
Jed was a rugged frontiersman and the Englishman was a sissy with a sissy’s dog.
All at once he jerked to attention. Good Lord! That must be it! His shock was profound and the emotions in his large breast flashed hot and cold.
“Shoot, ma’am, do you mean Jeeves is one of them—those fairy fellows?” Poor Tacita! Forced into a union with a man who wasn’t even a man. Jed’s compassionate nature thrummed, and his heart filled with sympathy.
Tacita’s brows drew together, not in anger but in puzzlement. Fairy fellows? What was the man talking about? Casting him a peek from under her lashes she decided, whatever it was, it had touched Jed’s heart somehow. She decided to play the only card she’d been dealt that wasn’t completely humiliating.
Trying hard to look sad, she nodded and murmured thinly, “Yes. That’s it all right.”
He sank to the earth beside her. Rosamunda lunged, but Tacita caught her and held her in check.
“Oh, ma’am. Oh, Tacita. I’m so sorry. But why would you marry a man like that?” His voice held some powerful emotion. Tacita had the oddest feeling it was distaste. Coupled with empathy.
Hmmm. Why would she marry a man like that? Tacita, her nerves strung taut already, had a hard time thinking of a good reason. This was especially true since she didn’t know what it was she was making an excuse for. She also felt vaguely guilty about poor Edgar who was, as far as she knew, a perfectly decent man. She decided to use an old but time-honored justification.
“My—my parents wished it.”
“They wanted you to marry a pansy?”
Pansy? Fairy?
What on earth did those words have to do with Edgar Jevington Reeve? She nodded because she figured she’d better.
“Good God! I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
He sounded shocked. Tacita murmured, “Perhaps things are different in the big city, Jed.”
Shaking his head, he growled, “They must be.”
He seemed to have thrown off his shock at her initial request. His amazement over her possible marriage to Edgar—poor Edgar; she hoped she hadn’t maligned him too terribly—still seemed strong, however. Tacita decided it was time to press her advantage.
“So will you make love to me, Jed? I’d truly appreciate it.” She’d treasure the experience for the rest of her life, in fact, but she didn’t want him to know that. Her unrequited love for him seemed slightly pathetic to her. She was sure other women didn’t have to beg men to bed them. Other women’s love didn’t languish unrequited.
He stared at her for long enough for her to begin to squirm. Good heavens, did he consider the prospect of making love to her that revolting?
“Yes.”
His answer came quickly and explosively, startling Tacita into a little jump. Rosamunda took the opportunity to snap at Jed, but Tacita caught her before she connected.
Jed licked his lips and looked strangely vulnerable. She felt a tremendous urge to cuddle him. How curious.
He repeated, “Yes.”
Although her heart thundered almost painfully, Tacita couldn’t suppress her triumph. “Thank you, Jed! Oh, thank you!”
Jed’s own heart crinkled up around the edges. Poor Tacita. His ill-will towards her deceased parents had grown to full-fledged antagonism by this time. He couldn’t understand people like that. First they ignore her, and then they decide they want her to marry one of them—those unnatural fairy fellows.
Not that Jed disliked Jeeves on that account; hell, Jed was a tolerant sort. He’d met a couple of perfectly decent fairies in his life. But they hadn’t been destined to marry the woman Jed himself loved. He thought such a marriage would be a travesty. Actually, in Tacita’s case, he considered it a downright tragedy.
Yet Tacita—sweet, obedient Tacita—was willing to marry Jeeves because it would have made her parents happy. It made him mad, is what it did. Jed hardly blamed her for wanting to experience real love with a real man once in her life before she got herself shackled forever to a pansy.
“I’ll be gentle, Tacita,” he said.
Her radiant smile washed him in heat. He felt weak with love for her; weak and really, really lusty.
“Thank you, Jed.”
“I—I’ll try not to hurt you.”
“Thank you.”
She still held the rat, which had been growling in a menacing manner during their entire conversation. When Jed reached for Tacita, intending to merely press her soft cheek with his palm to show her how gentle he could be in spite of his great size, the animal lunged. Breaking free from Tacita’s grip, she sank her tiny fangs into Jed’s hand.
# # #
“Oh, Jed, I’m so sorry.”
Rosamunda heard Tacita’s apology and resented it. She had never been so offended in her entire life.
They had imprisoned her. Her! Rosamunda! They’d thrust her into the slammer for trying to protect her mistress from Tacita’s own obvious insanity and that ghastly monster, Jed Hardcastle.
What an undignified fate to befall a noble Yorkie.
She lay curled up on her bed of rabbit fur inside the saddlebag, nursing her shattered sensibilities. No light seeped into her jail. Mistress and Monster had seen to that when they strapped the bag shut.
Feeling very sorry for herself, Rosamunda would have cried if Yorkshire terriers did such things.
# # #
While Tacita gave herself an icy bath in the stream, Jed went about the prosaic task of fixing dinner. Tacita had originally hoped he’d just get on with the business of love-making without further delay, but Rosamunda had put an effective end to those vain hopes. Tacita guessed she just wasn’t created to live romantically.
After they’d secured the dog, Tacita realized how hungry she was. She was willing to overlook her own hunger in order to learn about the mysteries of love, but when she heard Jed’s own large tummy growl, she decided amour would have to wait.
It was probably better this way. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about smelling like that horrible tea and her own perspiration when they consummated their love. Rather, her love.
She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, conjuring images of Jed falling onto his knees before her and declaring his undying adoration. The splash of icy water when she wrung her washcloth over her leg brought reality back with jolt.
“Don’t be stupid, Tacita Grantham,” she advised herself firmly. “He’ll never love you. Besides, even if he did, he’s too honorable to declare himself.”
Tacita had never given much thought to Jed’s honor before now. She had to admit, though, that he was every bit as noble and estimable as any of the heroes she’d read about in novels. Indeed, he epitomized the ideals of the Chivalrous Western Man exalted in those books. Which was one of the reasons she’d fallen madly in love with him in the first place, although it rather annoyed her now.
He’d never renounce his engagement to that horrible Crunch woman. Tacita knew it. He was too noble. Too chivalrous. Too—too—well, he was simply too something, and she knew that whatever it was, it would prevent his ever acknowledging his love for her.
Not that he had any. Tacita harbored no illusions about herself. She knew she was too boring for words and entirely too tiresome for Jed.
Sighing again, she allowed herself a little smile. It hardly mattered any longer. Boring or not, she was going to get at least some of her deepest yearnings satisfied tonight. And she could pretend there was more to the act than that. She was good at that. She’d been pretending all her life.
# # #
If Jed didn’t possess such a practical nature, he’d have gladly foregone supper for the more urgent desires of his heart and body. He wanted to make love to Tacita so much, his whole large frame was tight with lust and longing.
He knew better, though. He might put on an act for his clients, wearing buckskins and a taciturn mien like an actor wore makeup, but Jed never let himself forget the real perils extant in his chosen arena. Out here on the frontier a body had to keep his strength up, and strength required food.
Besides, his baser nature reminded him, he could perform better if he wasn’t hungry. And he aimed to give Tacita the finest performance of his entire life tonight. Another shaft of desire pierced him at the thought.
He ate quickly.
So did Tacita.
For the first time in her life, Rosamunda refused her dinner.
# # #
“Are you comfortable, Tacita?” Jed’s voice was unsteady.
“Yes, thank you.” So was Tacita’s.
She was stiff as a board. So was Jed, although only one part of him was stiff. The rest of him felt almost unreal, as though his sex occupied the body of another man entirely.
He was also so excited at the prospect before him that he feared for his endurance, so he decided to think about his family. That had always worked before when he was afraid overpowering desire might make him finish before his partner. It worked this time, too. There was just something about remembering his uproarious siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles that took the edge off of carnal excitement.
“Um, would you like me to join you now?” he asked, striving to conceal his eagerness.
“Yes, thank you.”
Her voice still shook, and he felt a pang of empathy. Poor Tacita, reduced to seeking physical pleasure from a rough frontier guide because she was doomed to marry a pansy. Even if she did care for Jeeves, marriage to a man who fancied men would be one sadly skimpy in the physical-pleasure department. Well, he’d do his best for her tonight.
“Move over, then, and I’ll get under the blanket with you.”
> She scooched over so far, Jed worried about her slipping off the pad he’d made and ending up on the dirt. Quickly, shucked off his shirt, trousers and drawers, scrambled under the covers, and caught her around the waist so she wouldn’t slide out from under the blanket. He’d made up this bed specially, using both of their rigs and creating a larger surface for them to work on.
Her heavy flannel nightgown covered her from neck to toe, and the material was too thick to be revealing. Nevertheless, when Jed felt her tiny waist under the fabric, his sex pulsed a strong response. It was so strong, in fact, that panic smote him. She was so small. And he was so big. Glory, he hoped he wouldn’t rip her apart.
“I’ll try to be gentle,” he whispered for the seventy-fifth time. Actually, it was 119´ more of a croak. He was so scared.
“I know you will,” she whispered back, surprising him.
Her trust humbled him. This whole experience humbled him, in fact. Imagine, a beautiful, delicate flower like Tacita Grantham choosing him to indoctrinate her into the pleasures of the flesh. The notion was daunting and Jed decided he’d better not think about it. It was one thing to try to keep his urges under control until she’d been satisfied. It would be an entirely different thing to have those urges crushed completely.
Well, he was under the covers now and guessed he’d better do something. Tacita had gone rigid at his touch and now lay on her back again, as motionless as a corpse. Jed reckoned it was now or never. Striving to appear unrushed, he leaned over and gently nuzzled her neck. His lips met flannel, but he didn’t guess he should complain. His manly parts were back to near busting again.
“I’ll try not to hurt you, Tacita, but I reckon it always hurts a lady the first time.”
“Yes. Yes, I understand.”
“I’ll do my best, though. Honest, I will.”
“I know you will, Jed.”
He nuzzled her again, aiming higher this time and finding the warm skin on her neck. This was better. He kissed her throat gently, gently, relishing the warmth of her flesh and praying he wouldn’t get too excited and disgrace himself.
“I—I’ll try to be gentle,” seeped from his lips.
Suddenly, she cried, “Oh, I know you will. You’re the most gentle, wonderful man I’ve ever met!”
