She felt unsure of her next move, but she needn’t have worried. The warmth of his body pressing against her own drove all previous calculations from her mind. The unfamiliar sensation of a man’s hard-muscled body was explosive enough to sweep away the set of motivations that had drawn her into his embrace. She felt his body next to hers and became not a thinking being, but a feeling one.
She felt the power of his strong arms, and the tensing muscles of his chest beneath her palms. The hand on her back burned as though the fabric of her dress did not lie between his hand and her skin. A peculiar weakness churned in her lower stomach, sending a tremble to her legs, then flooding upward to confuse and quicken her breathing.
Outside girlish dreams, no man’s arms had tightened around Bristol Adams, and the effect was dizzying. It seemed as if an immense wave of heat flowed from Caleb’s tall hard frame, encircling her and turning her bones to jelly.
Lips parted, she lifted her head to see if Caleb experienced any of the confusing sensations racing through her small body. Her ears rang with the pounding of a rapid heart, and her breast rose and fell in quick shallow breaths.
Caleb’s eyes met hers with a strange stricken expression, as if he wanted to step away but could not. Helplessly Bristol’s green gaze dropped to the firm broad line of his lips, lingering there to recall their first clumsy kiss. If he kissed her now, she thought, it would not be an awkward brushing of the lips... and she would not be tempted to laugh.
And she knew Caleb would kiss her. His blue eyes devoured her face, settling hungrily on her moist parted lips. Trembling in anticipation, Bristol wet her mouth with the tip of her tongue and heard Caleb groan.
“Bristol...” The choked voice sounded hoarse and unfamiliar. His arms tightened, and she felt his hand cupping her head, guiding her mouth to his. Then his lips covered hers with sudden bruising force.
The kiss seemed to endure forever; they frantically pressed to each other, years of pent-up emotion burning in that long kiss. Vague longings that Bristol only now began to understand crystallized and grew, swelling until every thought, every tingling nerve cried urgently for the release that rushed toward them with each hesitant touch, every slight adjusting movement.
Tearing his lips from her mouth, Caleb buried his face in the firelit gloss of her hair, whispering her name again and again. Then his hand slid to cover her breast, and something like a sob ripped from his throat.
Bristol’s head fell back, and she lifted her breast to his hand, feeling the heat of his fingers scald through her gown and into the trembling flesh beneath. A terrible fever swept her body, sapping her strength and turning her thoughts to mindless need.
Not in her wildest fantasies had she imagined a man’s touch would rouse her to such blinding passion. The hard muscles of his chest, the strong thighs pushing into her softness, enflamed Bristol’s mind and body, and she met his crushing embrace with a responding pressure of her own, moving and seeking to fit her body to his.
She moved her hips, and for an instant her body tensed at the swelling tension between his legs, pushing, pushing against her stomach. Then his mouth found her lips, his searching hands stroked her breasts, and she responded with flaming eagerness, pressing against the hard demanding swell of his body. Hot moisture flowed to ready her secret place, and her arms circled his neck fiercely, her fingers curling in the sandy hair at his collar.
A sound wrenched from Caleb’s throat, and he pulled her roughly to his straining body, his erection throbbing insistently against her. His large frame shook with an intensity of desire, and his exploring hands moved in increasing urgency.
“Caleb... Caleb?” Bristol whispered against his lips, not knowing what she asked, but feeling the need to repeat his name. Damp heat shone on her forehead, matched by the gleam on Caleb’s face. Her legs shook, possessing no strength, and she knew her nerveless body would fall if he released her. Between her legs, a startling tingle pulsed and swelled, turning her stomach to straw, sweeping her body with a fiery urgency both frightening and overwhelming. Something dormant had awakened; she could not have stepped away from him.
Sweeping her into his arms, Caleb lowered her gently to his spread cloak, his ragged breathing hot in her ear, equaled by the gasping sounds from her own throat.
Green eyes wide, she stared into his flushed face as Caleb held her cheeks, bruising her lips with his kiss. The man crushing her mouth was a stranger, his face swollen in desire. For a brief instant a chill of fear sobered Bristol’s mind. What they did was wrong. There could be no going back; the act, once committed, was irrevocable.
This Caleb Wainwright wasn’t the quiet, gentle man she knew. His probing hands fondling her breasts had forgotten any touch of gentleness. But would he find her face familiar if he opened his eyes this minute? Had he suspected her of this moaning sensuality?
His demanding body pressed her backward on the cloak, and she felt the ground rise to meet her trembling flesh. This was Caleb! The man she loved. The man with whom she would build a life. She had nothing to fear.
Closing her eyes, Bristol surrendered to his kiss, offering herself willingly. His deep groan filled her heart with aching need.
At last, at last, his large rough hand slid from her panting breast and rushed up under her skirt. He fumbled at the string of his breeches.
“Aye, aye,” Bristol urged, her head back, her buttocks lifted to him.
She gasped in shock when his hand suddenly found the red silk curling between her legs. He stroked her reverently, and Bristol moaned, her wild body moving beneath his tantalizing fingers.
Abruptly Caleb halted. An agonized sob tore from his lips, and his head dropped, sandy hair brushing her dry lips. “Caleb?” she cried. He lifted his face and stared into her eyes. Then he tensed upward, and a searing rod of fire thrust into her body.
A scream of pain and surprise tore past Bristol’s lips, and her green eyes flared wide. After the urgency of desire, the throbbing need, an agony of hot flesh jolted into her with pain she hadn’t expected.
A dark wave obscured her vision, the firelight flickered in and out, glowing upon sandy hair, then gone. Caleb pushed forward twice, three times; then his damp hands clamped convulsively upon Bristol’s shoulders, and he shuddered, his face a firelit mask of pain and ecstasy.
Dropping his head to her shoulder, Caleb gasped and gulped for breath.
Stunned and aching, Bristol stared unseeing at the smoky thatch of the ceiling. A small stone pushed painfully into the small of her back, and her shoulders felt sore where his fingers had bruised across the lash marks.
Is this all there is? she thought blankly.
Stroking his heaving back absently, Bristol listened to her heart quiet. He lay against her, depleted and limp. But she... she swelled with a frustrated tension that could easily be mistaken for deep anger. She’d expected, even hoped, that the mystery of men and women offered more than just searing pain, provided more than a few seconds of thrashing discomfort.
She held herself very still, daring to hope that Caleb might rouse himself and do... What? She couldn’t guess, but there must be something! Something to ease the tensions continuing to boil through her body and mind. She felt empty, somehow deprived, still needing an elusive something that had not happened. Could not possibly happen in so brief an encounter.
Caleb stirred, and Bristol felt an overpowering tide of vast disappointment. He groaned and pushed up on an elbow. In his eyes she saw there would be nothing more. Nothing for her.
Blinking, Caleb stared around him blindly, finally turning dazed blue eyes to meet Bristol’s steady gaze. His lids opened and closed, and he shook his head stupidly. He stared.
“Oh, God,” Caleb whispered. “Oh, my God, what have I done?” He rolled away and stood, turning his back while he hastily fastened his breeches. Then he swiveled, and stricken eyes stared as Bristol tugged at her rumpled gray skirt. “Bristol... oh, God!” His voice cracked, and Caleb sank to his knees before the fire,
burying his sandy head in large hands.
Now, Bristol thought, forcing her disappointment aside, now was the right time. She went to him, placing her arm tenderly around his neck, turning his tormented face into her shoulder. “It’s all right,” she soothed, thinking how like Hannah she sounded. “It’s all right.” A wave of love softened her face. She could imagine him as a toddler, bringing his small hurts to be kissed away. “Shhh.”
“Bristol, I... I’m sorry! I don’t know what to say. I can’t explain. I...” He whispered into her shoulder, his hands forming into fists on her waist. “I’d give anything to undo these minutes, to take back the dishonor I’ve done you! It’s only that I’ve dreamed for so long, loved you for so long...” He raised his head and stared into her green eyes. “You know I love you, don’t you? As God is my witness, I do love you!”
Bristol smiled and rested a gentle hand on his cheek. “I know, I know.” A teasing sparkle twinkled in her emerald eyes. “The blame can’t be laid entirely at your door, Caleb Wainwright. It was I returning your kisses, and I don’t recall giving you much of a struggle.” A blush tinted her cheeks, but a welling rush of happiness overrode any attempt at modesty. She didn’t want him spoiling her happiness with remorse. What had happened between them was predestined, was right. Everything would work out now; she felt it, believed it.
Caleb smiled uncertainly. “You’re being wonderful, Bristol.” Impulsively he gathered her into his arms—but carefully, the passion replaced by a cautious tenderness. “And so beautiful,” he murmured. Lifting a shining red curl, he watched it twine around his finger. “So beautiful!”
Seeing his strong young face in the firelight, Bristol felt a flood of heat and again experienced a rush of frustration. Her eyes darkened and dropped to his wide mouth, and she wished she could turn back the clock to that moment when first his lips covered hers. Only, this time, when the moment of mystery came, he would... he would... Angrily Bristol wrenched away from such thoughts. They had a lifetime to explore each other; her turn would come.
Gently she moved from Caleb’s embrace and sat on the B stool, combing her fingers through her hair and pinning the long spill of red beneath her dust cap. She smiled happily, her heart swelling with confidence at the love shining in his eyes.
“We’ll have to be married, of course.”
He nodded and smiled. “Of course. My responsibility is clear.”
Bristol’s heart soared. She’d done it! No more threats of the lash; and most important, no England, no dried-up Aunt Prudence! An elation filled her to bursting, and she sprang to her feet, dancing around the small settler’s cabin, her skirts swirling about her shoe tops. Over! All the worries and tears were over! She wouldn’t have to leave her home. In that moment she loved Caleb Wainwright with a grateful intensity unmatched by anything else in her life.
He watched her spinning about the small cabin, and soft lights smiled in his eyes. “I’ll cherish this picture of you while I’m waiting,” he said softly. “When you’re happy, Bristol, I swear you light up the room.” He waved his hands expansively. “The whole world.”
But Bristol didn’t hear. Her dance spun to an abrupt halt, the gray skirt billowing around her ankles. “Waiting? What waiting?” She felt breathless, her eyes wide and confused.
Blinking, Caleb frowned uneasily. “Why, until you return from England.” His frown deepened. “Bristol, what’s wrong? You do agree we’re to wed, don’t you? We must. After what’s happened...”
“Aye,” Bristol choked in disbelief. “But now! Now! I mean, after... I thought...”
Caleb stood slowly, looking at her across the room. “Bristol, what happened between us alters nothing,” he said gently. “I can’t support a wife until I receive my land parcel next month. And I’ll not be eligible, as we discussed, if we’re married.” He shrugged, his voice patient. “That was Ma’s condition, Bristol, not something I welcome, but something I cannot change.”
Bristol stared at him, appalled. She couldn’t be hearing correctly, not after what she’d done. “Caleb,” her voice pleaded. “Caleb, you must understand! We have to be married. Now!” She blinked furiously at angry tears. “Pa is sending me away! Oh, why can’t you see? After what we’ve just done, how can you refuse me? Don’t you love me enough to help me?”
His face was blank; his mouth fell open. Bristol stamped her foot and bit back a cry of utter frustration. At this moment Caleb looked like a simple farmhand, incapable of comprehending any but the plainest logic. She felt like flying at him and striking that obstinate face, slapping him until she saw reason flicker there. Lifting a shaking hand, Bristol pressed her forehead. She’d never wanted to strike anyone in her entire life. If proof were needed of how strongly she felt about her home, here it was.
When she opened her eyes, Caleb’s face had hardened, a conviction growing in his eyes. “Bristol,” he said tightly, “did you lie with me because of love, or because you thought to save yourself the trip to England?”
“Both!” Bristol cried. “Both! Is that so wrong? Aye, I wanted your kiss and your...” She dropped her head and bit her lip. “And I want to wed you and not leave home. My home, Caleb! Is that so terrible?”
His eyes darkened almost to black. “And I flattered myself it was me you wanted, when all the time...”
“And I flattered myself you truly loved me! That you cared enough to marry me now, when I need you!”
They stared across a tense room.
“I’ll marry you, Bristol Adams, and gladly,” Caleb said, breaking the silence, his body stiff and his tone formal. “But we’ll wed in the right time. I’ll not destroy a profitable future to indulge a whim. In the years to come, you’ll thank me for keeping a clear head.”
A flaring hope died. “Whim!” Bristol spit the word. “It was a whim to think I cared for you or that you cared for me!” Swiftly she bent and scooped her cloak into shaking hands. Her eyes glittered with furious tears. “Well, I’ll never marry you! Do you hear? Never! I hate you, Caleb Wainwright! I hate you!”
She whirled and stumbled blindly from the cabin as he turned to the coals, his broad shoulders sagging.
Running to old Brown, Bristol flung herself into the saddle. Hand pressed to her mouth, she urged Brown into the snow-covered pines and away from the settler’s cabin. Away from Caleb Wainwright and away from the ruin of her innocence, leaving behind the shattered remnants of her dreams and her girlhood. In her mind she saw a drop of bright blood staining Caleb’s cloak, and a sob of betrayal broke from her lips.
She did not look back.
4
The days flew, gathering speed like an avalanche, piling one atop the other with frightening finality. Noah’s letter sailed to England. In it, he informed Prudence Adams of her niece’s forthcoming arrival on board the Challenger. Noah’s broad handwriting presented Prudence with a fact, allowing no time or possibility for his sister’s refusal. Before Prudence scarcely had opportunity to accustom herself to the startling idea of an unknown niece’s visit, Bristol would arrive—welcome or not. The Challenger was scheduled to sail within days of Noah’s letter, as quickly as her cargo of lumber and Caribbean sugar could be fully assembled and loaded.
Each miserable day bringing Bristol nearer to departure also brought her face to face with the shame and irony of her situation. At times, she felt half-mad with frustration and guilt.
When she wasn’t berating herself for her needless actions in the settler’s cabin, Bristol mentally composed pleading speeches for her father. Repeatedly she approached Noah, trying to explain that her drastic exile wasn’t necessary... Noah need fear no longer regarding the despicable Caleb Wainwright. Through a storm of anguished weeping and pleas, Bristol swore her lack of interest, her total disregard for Master Wainwright. His imagined power to seduce had ceased its effect. She swore herself cured of him forever.
“I loathe the very thought of Caleb Wainwright!” Bristol insisted. “I’d not consent to marry him, Papa, if you sugge
sted it yourself!” Even as the words rushed from her lips, Bristol realized her mistake—the phrasing could not be worse. All she’d accomplished was another example of willful disobedience. Changing direction, she sobbed through a fresh line of reasoning. But as she didn’t dare admit to having seen or spoken with Caleb, her arguments carried no strength. Noah nodded grimly and turned a deaf ear.
Accordingly, Bristol’s dispirited world narrowed to the word “last.” The sands of time ran ever faster, speeding her toward the moment of departure. And with the passing of precious days, even the most hated chores assumed a new significance when performed from the vantage of “last.” Bristol emptied slop jars and carried in heavy loads of wood, discharging each task with a sad smile. She churned butter, polished kettles, carded wool for Hannah, made cheese, wove candle wicks... and each chore shone with a bittersweet aura of farewell.
The word “last” blew through her mind like a chill wind. Everywhere Bristol looked, each item her hands touched—all assumed a cherished and precious value. Would Aunt Prudence’s drab cottage have soft yellow paint above the wainscoting? And would a single woman have need of seventy-pound kettles as fine and deep as Hannah’s? Could Aunt Prudence offer Bristol a feather bed, or, more likely, would her simple cottage be furnished coarsely?
Bristol turned her face from the bed she shared with Charity and blinked fiercely at the mist over her eyes. She’d spent so many hours with a shimmer of tears just behind her lids that she began to feel she’d passed most of her life fighting sobs. Angry with herself, Bristol dashed a hand across her face and shoved a pewter mug deep into the trunk she was packing.
The mug wasn’t hers to take, but she’d used it for years.
Her own carelessness had produced the scratch on the handle. Hopefully Hannah would understand when she discovered the mug missing. It would be something of home in a strange distant city when she needed a reminder of home. As if she’d need any reminder!
Salem's Daughter Page 6
