by Craig, Emma
And she threw herself into Jed’s arms, nightie and all, nearly astonishing him out of his wits.
Fortunately, most of his wits were visiting elsewhere this evening, and Jed recovered in an instant. Still reeling from her passionate response to his initial fumbling overture, he kissed her on the mouth.
She didn’t know anything about kissing. She kept her lips puckered up as tight as Jed’s Aunt Minnie when he had to kiss her on Christmas Eve. Tacita’s lips were prepared for a duty kiss. Jed knew it was up to him to teach her the difference between duty and pleasure, and he decided to do it without words since she always argued with him.
He kept his lips deliberately soft, skimming her rigid mouth over and over, undermining her fear with tender, warm caresses. It wasn’t long before her pucker eased. With a little sigh, her lips parted. He explored her mouth gently, tenderly, finding delight in tasting her.
Tacita didn’t taste like any of the other women he’d had. She was a delicacy, like the sweetened whipped cream his ma slopped over gingerbread. She was gingery, too, his little Tacita. Sweet and spicy. He felt light-headed, nearly drowning in delight.
While his lips and tongue taught hers what to do, his big hands loosened their grip on her waist. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to slide out from under the covers now. Tentatively, he began to explore her body. He wanted to feel skin, but didn’t suppose he’d better push his luck for a while.
“Oh, Jed,” she whispered, the words warm on his neck. They feathered over his bare shoulder, sent hot shivers through his body, and almost made him forget his promise to be gentle.
He reached for the hem of her nightie, hoping she wouldn’t object. She didn’t, and when he found one little foot and began to massage it, her mew of pleasure was music to his ears. Since that had worked so well, he started a slow exploration up her leg.
She was exquisite in every detail, and about half the size of most of the women Jed had known in a carnal fashion. Used to buxom, meaty frontier females, Jed used special care with Tacita. He didn’t rush; his hands studied every dip, mound and plane on her body as carefully as if he were conducting topographical research.
Soon he was dazed with wonder and hunger. “You’re so beautiful,” he told her more than once, meaning it, although what he wanted to say was, “I love you.” He didn’t dare, some fragment of sanity preventing him from exposing himself to her ridicule. But he said it in his heart, and meant it.
Her skin was as soft and smooth as a baby’s. He feared his calluses would hurt her, but her tiny, breathy moans didn’t sound like those of a woman in pain. Every now and then he’d whisper a query about her state of wellbeing. Each time she assured him, in gesture or speech, of her willingness to continue. Which was a good thing. Jed wasn’t sure what he’d do if she got scared and made him stop. He’d never forced a woman in his life and wouldn’t now, although he suspected forbearance might kill him in this instance.
Fortunately, they both lived. Taking the most exquisite care of his life, Jed coaxed Tacita into a mindless, writhing state of fulfillment. Her reaction was music to his ears. He’d have loved to watch, but settled for tactile understanding of the magic his hands and fingers wrought, as he didn’t dare lower the blanket far enough for the stars and campfire to illuminate the two of them. He knew Tacita would be scared if she saw him because he was so big.
Then it was his turn. Ready to burst already, he thrust home, capturing Tacita’s surprised cry with his lips. By this time, he was so overwrought that his fourth or fifth thrust carried him beyond sanity and into the most awesome delight he’d ever experienced in his life.
Chapter 14
Tacita lay for a long time, stunned by what she’d experienced. She hugged Jed’s big body tightly to hers, wishing she never had to let him go, even if he was heavy on her.
How perfectly amazing the act of love could be. Even though she’d longed to experience it, Tacita hadn’t realized the full magnificence of it. And its magnificence wasn’t confined only to the physical sensations, which were, admittedly, interesting and—well—fulfilling.
For Tacita’s money, however, the intense intimacy engendered during the act was the primary point of appeal in what she and Jed had just done—were still doing, for that matter. She’d never felt so close to another person in life. Which, all things considered, made sense. How much closer could a body get to another body than this? She’d longed for closeness for such a long time. Thanks to Jed, she’d now experienced it, if only briefly. With a deep sigh, she wished it could continue.
“Are you all right, Tacita?”
Jed’s voice drifted, muffled, into her right ear, and she realized his nose was buried in her hair. He was panting as if he’d just run a long race, too, and Tacita guessed it wasn’t only she who’d been moved by the experience they’d just shared. A tiny smile curled her lips when she considered that she, Tacita Grantham, a woman so boring even her parents couldn’t bear to be around her, had reduced this great, strapping man to a state of exhaustion. Even a tedious woman had some power, she decided, and held the knowledge close to heart, very much as she held Jed.
She had to clear her throat before she could get her voice to work. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” That sounded inadequate, so she tacked on, “And you?”
She felt a sense of loss when he pushed himself up from her body. They were both drenched in perspiration. Since the blankets covered them up entirely, the weather in their woolen cocoon felt rather muggy.
“Fine. I’m fine,” he said, sounding unsteady. He rolled to her side, much to Tacita’s disappointment. She’d felt so protected with him on top of her; so cherished somehow, even though she knew the feeling to be an illusion.
When Jed pushed the blanket back, Tacita immediately saw another blanket, one crafted of black velvet and diamond-like stars, spread overhead. The scene was magnificent, and she drew in a deep breath. What a perfect night in which to learn the glories of love.
“Are you sure?” Jed asked quietly. He traced her cheek and chin with a big finger.
When she turned her head, she found him propped on an elbow, watching her with unmistakable concern. How truly nice he was!
She smiled. “I’m sure, Jed. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Tacita. I—I—”
She saw him swallow. He looked almost shy, as though whatever he wanted to say was embarrassing to him somehow. It was unlike Jed to be unsure of himself, and Tacita mentally braced herself. She hoped he wasn’t going to say something prosaic and dash the sweet spell that had woven itself around them in the night.
Reaching out, she began to trace his chin, too. He rubbed his cheek against her fingers, as if he took as much pleasure in her touch as she did his.
“I hope I did all right,” he said. Then he seemed to be annoyed with himself.
Although she wasn’t sure what etiquette prevailed in this instance, she sensed that Jed needed her reassurance.
“You did very well, Jed. Wonderfully well.” At least Tacita thought so. Of course, she had nothing by which to compare Jed’s performance, but she couldn’t imagine another man taking so much care about introducing her to the wonders of love.
“I—um—never felt anything so good, ma’am.”
His voice sounded funny. Tacita got the feeling he felt silly, but his admission thrilled her. Even if she didn’t quite believe him. After all, he was a vastly experienced man and she a mere novice; he was undoubtedly just being kind. Still, love swelled in her heart.
“I never did, either, Jed.”
It was the truth. Granted, when he’d thrust into her it had hurt, but the preliminaries had been perfectly wonderful. Tacita hadn’t ever felt the complete, all-consuming pleasure that Jed had made her feel. And she didn’t hardly hurt at all anymore.
“I didn’t hurt you?”
Oh, how sweet! He was worried about her. Tacita heard it clearly in his voice. Deciding honesty would serve her well since he knew more than she did about love
-making and would probably not believe her if she lied, she said, “Well, only a little.”
His head dropped to the hollow between her neck and shoulder, and Tacita found herself petting him. She heard him whisper, “Thank God. I was so afraid I’d hurt you,” and she thought that was sweet, too.
“No, you didn’t hurt me, Jed. You were very gentle. Very kind.”
He proceeded to deposit tiny kisses over her neck and shoulders until Tacita thought she’d die with longing; not for more love-making, but for love.
Jed wrapped her in his strong arms after a little while, and she subsided into them with a sigh. Curling onto her side, she allowed herself the liberty of stroking his broad chest as they lay there in the dark. Her last conscious thought was of how splendid this felt, to be out here in the wilderness under the stars, with Jed Hardcastle hugging her and the big, ugly world far, far away.
# # #
Rosamunda’s feelings had not softened when Tacita and Jed stirred the next morning. Her dignity had suffered an almost unendurable outrage, and she was still bitter. She did not, however, refuse her breakfast. After all, a human being, even so superior, albeit misguided, a one as Mistress, was only worth so much. Rosamunda wasn’t about to allow herself to fall into a decline just because Mistress was a fool.
Imagine, succumbing to the lures of the overgrown beast, Jedediah Hardcastle! Rosamunda fully intended to become a bride someday. As soon, in fact, as she got to San Francisco. She, however, knew enough at least to keep her proportions straight.
Prince Albert would suit her admirably. He wasn’t as big as a house. No. Prince Albert was a champion Yorkshire terrier just like Rosamunda, and he would be only a tiny bit bigger than she, if he was any bigger at all, for heaven’s sake. The thinking processes of human beings were totally incomprehensible to her. If they possessed thinking processes. Rosamunda had begun to harbor serious doubts on the matter.
“There, my darling,” Tacita said when she unstrapped the saddlebag and scooped Rosamunda out. “Is my sweet precious darling Rosie-posie all right this morning?”
Rosie-posie? Rosamunda stared as Mistress lifted her into the air. Rosie-posie? Good grief! Had it really come to this?
“There, darling,” Tacita said, fluffing Rosamunda’s fur with her nose and chin. “Everything will be fine now. Darling Rosamunda, you’re still my best friend, you know. Is everything all better now?”
All better? With Mistress having sunk to calling her Rosie-posie? It was bad enough when she’d made Rosamunda give up her rightful place on her pillow beside Mistress’s head to that lout, Jed Hardcastle. Now Mistress was calling her by a name no self-respecting Yorkshire terrier would come with fifty yards of. Rosamunda gave an indignant snort and looked pointedly away from Tacita. Her show of resentment earned her an enthusiastic hug, which alarmed her.
Then she took a good look at Tacita and realized Mistress was in the throes of some exalted emotion and wasn’t paying any attention to her at all. Rosamunda glanced sharply at Jed and found him staring at Mistress, his eyes hot with longing. Why, he looked like a love-sick coon hound Rosamunda had met once back home in Galveston. It wasn’t a pretty sight, even on the coon hound. On Jed Hardcastle, it was downright ludicrous.
It did, however, give Rosamunda pause. Good heavens, were these two benighted humans actually in love with each other? She’d heard such things sometimes happened among humans, although she’d always assumed Mistress would be immune to such nonsense, as she was generally a most superlative example of the species. Rosamunda decided to keep a close eye on these two.
By the time they’d packed up to resume their journey to Denver, she had come to a most unwelcome conclusion.
Leaving Rosie-posie aside for a moment—if such a thing was possible— “Love”, whatever it was, had gored both Mistress and Monster with its long, deadly horns. What a pickle.
# # #
As he loaded the mules, Jed decided that if he’d known before now how painful love would be, he’d have tried harder to avoid it. Not, of course, that he’d have had much luck, he guessed. It had attacked him behind his back when he wasn’t paying attention, like the low-down sneaky demon it was. It hadn’t even given Jed a chance to come up with an evasive maneuver. Which was just the sort of thing a body could expect from a devil or an illness. He’d been stricken with influenza once when he was a lad. It had snuck up on him just like this.
Glumly, he decided there was no hope for it; he was well and truly caught in the clutches of love. His buddies back home would laugh if they knew. Casting another surreptitious glance at Tacita, he decided maybe they wouldn’t after all. It was far more likely that they’d be jealous.
At least they would be if she could ever belong to Jed.
But no. He yanked on the strap, making the mule glower at him and utter a short bray.
“Sorry,” he murmured, loosening the strap.
Tacita couldn’t be his. She was destined for that ridiculous, dog-loving, unnatural Englishman. He wished Edgar Jevington Reeve would go down with the boat on the way over from England. That would solve Jed’s problems. Tacita might have him then, since he was the one who’d taken her purity. He didn’t expect she’d marry him otherwise.
The specter of Miss Amalie Crunch rose before him, almost as large as Miss Amalie Crunch herself, and Jed groaned.
“Are you all right, Jed?” Tacita asked sweetly.
He smiled at her, thinking how wonderful she was. Even if she did talk a lot and liked to argue a little too much to please him, and was a little over fond of that idiotic dog of hers.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“I thought maybe you’d hurt yourself. You made that funny noise.”
He sighed. “No. I’m fine.”
“I’m glad.”
She gave him the most beautiful smile he’d ever received from a woman. It was almost, but not quite, enough to banish Amalie’s apparition. Jed couldn’t think of anything big enough to do that.
So that was all he’d ever have from Tacita Grantham: those stolen moments last night under the stars. Well, under the blanket under the stars. Maybe, if he was very lucky, she might allow him to touch her again. He didn’t dare hope very hard, for fear his shattered hopes would shatter him.
Lord, Lord, why couldn’t he have fallen in love with a woman he could have? Why couldn’t he be in love with Amalie? Amalie was a nice girl. She was a real nice girl. In his inner vision, Amalie grinned, reminding him strongly of a Hallowe’en jack-o-lantern.
He quickly thrust aside the unworthy thought that maybe Amelia’s fall of a rock and cease to be a burden to him. Hell, even if Amalie wasn’t back home in Busted Flush, waiting for him, Tacita Grantham still wouldn’t want him. He knew it, and the knowledge made him sad. He wondered if his heart would hurt forever or if it would heal someday. Either way, he didn’t expect he’d ever fall in love again.
His spirits alternating between heaviness and elation, Jed doggedly continued his task. He didn’t know why he loved Tacita; didn’t know why he couldn’t love Amalie. He didn’t understand any of it.
Work was something he understood, so he worked.
# # #
Tacita had never felt so marvelous in her life. Overnight, her turbulent imaginings had settled, and this morning she decided to continue pretending Jed loved her until they reached San Francisco. She was pretty sure she’d fall apart then, but didn’t care to have the awareness of their ultimate, separate destinies make her miserable until she no longer had a choice. In San Francisco, she would cry. Until then, she would be happy.
Tacita carefully folded the blankets they’d used for their tryst last night. She could smell their love on them, and see faint traces of rustiness, where she’d bled slightly. If she were home, she’d preserve this evidence of her first experience into the realm of physical love. She had no means by which to do so out here on the trail, but she’d remember this morning’s sights and scents forever.
When she handed the bla
nkets to Jed, her gaze caught his, and they stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like hours. The perfect moment was only broken when Rosamunda started barking. Glancing over, Tacita saw her beloved pet squared off as if she meant to attack something, her hackles risen, her teeth bared. Rosamunda’s testiness seemed general this morning. When Tacita scanned the campsite, she saw nobody else within snarling range. Poor Rosamunda. Tacita guessed she felt left out.
Jed caught fish for breakfast, coated them in cornmeal and fried them over the campfire which he’d earlier coaxed to life with dry twigs. Tacita marveled anew at his powerful frontier wisdom. A dime novelist would have a field day with Jed Hardcastle.
“I’ve never tasted anything so good in my life, Jed.”
“Thank you.”
“This fish is delicious.”
“Well, reckon fish is better when it’s caught and cooked fresh.”
“I imagine you’re right. What kind is it?”
Jed frowned at his tin plate. “Trout? Bass? One of them—those—I reckon.”
“Well, it’s wonderful.”
“Yeah. Reckon it’s pretty good.”
Even his natural taciturnity thrilled her. Tacita sighed, knowing she had it bad and wishing it could continue. If she’d known how delicious love could be, she’d not have resisted so hard when she felt herself falling in love with Jed.
Pulling fish bones from between her teeth, she wished a convenient lightning strike would eliminate her rival. Perhaps if Miss Amalie Crunch were dead, Jed would marry her. After all, he was an honorable man. Wouldn’t an honorable man wish to wed a woman whose virginity he’d taken? It took a moment, but eventually her conscience smote her for thinking such an unchristian thing about Miss Crunch.
Anyway, as she glanced at Jed she knew she wouldn’t want him to marry her simply because he’d bedded her. No. Tacita wanted the impossible. She wanted his love.
# # #
The trail to Denver was well-used, well-marked, and fairly good. They met several other travelers on this leg of their journey, unlike their trek through New Mexico Territory. Always, Jed led the way and allowed Tacita to speak to strangers only after he’d ascertained they were no threat to their little party. Tacita was enchanted by this further show of protectiveness, and pretended it was for her alone and that he wouldn’t protect another client with such diligence.
