From This Day Forward

by Victoria Thompson

  He felt the heat of humiliation burning in his cheeks, but when she looked up, he saw no trace of disgust on her lovely face. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  He wanted to say no. He wanted to be the one getting something—anything—for her. But he said, “Some brandy, please,” because he needed it desperately.

  He’d half-expected her to ask where it was, but she went directly to the cabinet and opened it. She even pulled out the right kind of glass, the globe-shaped one, and filled it from the correct bottle. Sudie must have been educating her on more than just how to plan the meals.

  She carried the glass back to him, cradling it with her hands as if she understood the liquor should be warmed with body heat before it could be properly enjoyed. Perhaps, he couldn’t help thinking, there were some advantages to having her become more sophisticated.

  “Thank you,” he said, making sure to touch her fingers as he took the glass from her. They felt cool and soft, and he imagined they trembled slightly.

  “Would you like me to rub your leg for you?” she asked, when he had taken a sip of the brandy.

  He was glad she’d waited until he had swallowed. Otherwise, he might have choked. He almost did anyway, although why he should have been surprised, he didn’t know. He’d shown her how to perform this service for him the very first day they were married.

  “I’d like that very much,” he replied. “I’m afraid I was a little foolish today and did a bit more walking than I should have.”

  Wincing inwardly at his understatement—he’d acted like a bloody fool, tramping around in the mud all day like a man with two good legs even when he’d known there’d be hell to pay for it later—he watched as she sank to her knees beside him in a puddle of skirts.

  He braced himself for her touch, but he still wasn’t pre-pared for the sensation of her gentle fingers kneading the sensitive skin of his thigh. The pain vibrated through him, quivering like a living thing, while at the same time, pleasure seared him, settling in his groin in a hot pool of desire.

  How odd. She was doing exactly the same thing Sudie had always done, kneeling beside him and massaging out the soreness. Why had he never felt these sensations before? This desperate longing? This raging need?

  He downed the brandy in long gulps in a futile effort to quench the fire burning inside of him and only succeeded in dulling the distracting agony of his leg. Every other sensation remained unaffected and perhaps it had actually grown more acute.

  “Would you like some more?” she asked when she saw his glass was empty.

  He did, but he also knew the danger of drinking too much. A man could lose control of himself, and Adam needed some control at least. “No, thank you,” he said, setting the glass on the table beside him. “What I do need, however, is for you to come up here.”

  Her fingers froze on his leg. Plainly, she didn’t understand.

  “Up here,” he clarified, patting his right thigh. “So I can hold you. If you will,” he added, realizing he had broken their agreement already. What if she refused him? What if...?

  But she didn’t refuse him. She said, “Of course I will,” and rose to her feet and came to him.

  He was aware of so many things at once that he could hardly assimilate them. Her scent. Her heat. Her softness. The way her round little bottom settled against his leg. How slender her waist was within the curve of his arm. How fine her skin looked so close up and how her eyes weren’t solid blue at all but a dozen different shades of it all blended together.

  He could hardly catch his breath for a moment and wondered if perhaps he had drunk too much brandy, after all.

  Then she slipped her slender left arm around his neck and all rational thought fled completely.

  “I think,” she said quite solemnly, “that I would like a kiss.”

  “You can kiss me, if you want to. You don’t even have to ask,” he heard the brandy saying.

  “I don’t?” she asked in surprise, and he smiled because she was the most delightful creature he had ever known.

  “Of course you don’t. I would never refuse you anything.”

  It was a rash promise, but he felt no guilt in making it because he honestly believed it to be true.

  She seemed to be considering this, or at least she was considering something. Her eyes narrowed and her lips quivered slightly, and then she lifted her right hand and caressed his cheek.

  “You’ll scratch yourself,” he warned, but she only smiled.

  “Your beard is soft. I’ll bet it’s beautiful, too…You should let it grow.”

  “To hide my ugly face?” he guessed.

  “You’re not ugly!” she insisted, as he’d hoped she would. “And don’t pretend you don’t know it! You’ve got a mirror.”

  He couldn’t seem to stop smiling at her. “How long are you going to make me wait until you kiss me?”

  Lori stared into his eyes and saw things there she’d never allowed herself to imagine he might feel for her. Once again, she felt that heady rush of feminine power, and it gave her the courage she needed to lower her face to Adam’s and touch her mouth to his.

  His lips were warm and soft and yielding, and he tasted of brandy and himself. She had expected him to take over the kiss once she’d started it, but he simply sat, passive, while she sampled his mouth. Emboldened by his submission, she ended the kiss and indulged herself by pressing her lips to his cheek so she could experience the rest of the face she had loved for so very long.

  Hesitantly at first, she kissed only his cheeks, but when he did not protest—and indeed, closed his eyes and leaned his head back as if to grant her better access—she continued her tender exploration. His chin, his jaw, his temples, his forehead, even the delicate curve of his eyelids. His breath was coming more quickly when she moved on to his ear where she tasted the fleshy softness of his earlobe, and she could see his pulse racing in his throat.

  “Lori?” he said in a strangled voice.

  “Yes?” she replied uncertainly, afraid she might have done something wrong.

  “I want to touch you.”

  What did he mean? He was already touching her. His arm was around her and she was sitting in his lap, for heavens’ sake. “Where?” she asked stupidly.

  “Everywhere,” he replied, his voice still rough, but this time with amusement. “But how about if I just start someplace and you tell me when to stop?”

  “I... all right,” she agreed unevenly. Her own pulse was racing now, but whether from excitement or fear, she took no time to decide as she waited for his first move.

  As if sensing her wariness, he took his time, settling his arm around her more securely while he brought his other hand up to caress her cheek. His fingers explored her face the way Lori’s lips had explored his, delicately and thoroughly, tracing every line and curve and finding sensitive spots she hadn’t even dreamed were there. Along her throat and behind her ear and finally her lips themselves. He traced them with his fingertip until they literally tingled with the need to be kissed.

  But only when she whispered his name in entreaty did he end her torment by covering her mouth with his. This time she clung to him with more boldness than she’d ever dared display before, wrapping her arms around his neck to make sure he didn’t pull away before she was ready to let him go.

  He made no move to go, however. He merely deepened the kiss, coaxing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue until she opened to his gentle invasion. Vaguely, she recalled that she had been frightened the last time he’d tried this, but she wasn’t frightened now. She was simply entranced, as if the feel of his mouth on hers had mesmerized her.

  His hands were moving on her now, stroking her back and her shoulders and down her arms. Soothing her, gentling her, petting her, until her bones seemed to soften in response. She buried her fingers in the thickness of his hair, holding his face to hers so the kiss would never end, so this pleasure would never end.

  His tongue teased hers, daring it to play, and a
n answering heat swirled inside of her, delicious and dangerous but not frightening—oh, no, because she was still in control, in perfect control. And then his hand closed over her breast.

  Her breath caught in surprise and alarm, but he was whispering something against her lips, something to calm her, something about it being all right. It wasn’t all right, of course. It was very much not all right, but before she could say so, his thumb found her nipple through the layers of her clothing and began to coax it to life.

  She gasped again, this time with shock as the most unexpected sensations sizzled over her. She hated it. She loved it. She didn’t know what she felt at all, and she felt so many things all at once, she couldn’t begin to figure it out.

  She’d had no idea that a man’s touch could be so magical, not when experience had taught her otherwise. But Adam’s hands weren’t a violation. Oh, no, they were something else entirely. She wasn’t sure she should even be allowing this, but she was so swamped with sensation that she couldn’t think how to stop it, either.

  Before she knew what he was about, he’d scooped up her legs and draped them over the arm of the chair and leaned her farther back so she was even more helpless. His lips left a trail of fire down her throat and the next thing she knew, his mouth had replaced his fingers at her nipple.

  Without Adam’s kisses to drug her, Lori’s head cleared in a moment, and when she realized what he was doing to her, that she had completely lost control, she cried out in protest. Adam froze at the sound, his mouth still hot on her breast, and in that instant, Lori realized the rasping sound she heard was her own breath, as she struggled to draw it, and the pounding in her head was the labored beating of her own heart.

  For a second, neither of them moved, and then Adam lifted his head. His face was flushed, his hair mussed from her hands, and his breath came fast, as if he’d been running, but it was the expression in his eyes that startled her most. The wild, lost look that reminded her so much of him that for a second...

  And then it was gone. With a groan, he lowered his head again, but only to rest it against her breasts, as if he really were as winded as he sounded. She lay perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe for fear she might somehow start him up again and that this time Adam wouldn’t be able to stop, just like he hadn’t been able to stop.

  But Adam was merely catching his breath, and when he had, he lifted his head again and smiled at her. It was a naughty, wicked, unrepentant smile that told her he knew what he had done to her and how he’d made her feel, at least for a few moments, and was glad of it.

  “That was very nice,” he said, making her blink in surprise. “Didn’t you think so?” he asked when she didn’t reply.

  She did, of course, most of it anyway, but she wasn’t sure it would be ladylike to admit it. “I was afraid... I mean, I didn’t think you’d be able to stop,” she corrected herself as she struggled to sit upright.

  “I didn’t want to,” he admitted, helping her put her feet back on the floor again so she could sit upright on his knee again.

  She looked at him in surprise, not quite sure she believed him. He had said he couldn’t stop, that no man could, that it was her fault for leading him on. Except that she hadn’t, not really. So maybe the rest of it had been a lie, too.

  “Don’t you believe me?” Adam asked. He seemed amused. “Well, let me assure you, Lori, there is nothing in this world I’d rather do right now than finish what we just started. Why do you find that hard to believe?”

  “I don’t! I mean, I...” She stammered to a halt when his amusement only increased.

  “Oh, then you do realize how desirable you are.”

  “No!” she insisted, blushing furiously in an agony of embarrassment. “I mean, am I? Do you really think so?”

  “Of course I think so. I thought I made that pretty clear just now, but if you’d like me to try again...” he added suggestively.

  “Oh, no, thank you, that’s all right,” she said hastily, jumping to her feet and out of his arms at last.

  She’d expected to feel at least a trace of relief to be free, but instead she felt bereft. And cold. As if all the warmth had suddenly gone out of her life. Then she looked into his eyes again and saw the heat was still there, waiting for her to claim it again.

  Part of her wanted to, desperately, a part of her she’d never even suspected existed. But the rest of her was still afraid of what that might mean and the loss of control it would require. So she took a step back to put some distance between herself and temptation.

  She cast about for something neutral to say and settled for, “Is your, uh, leg feeling better?”

  He grinned, as if he knew exactly what she was doing. “I forgot it was even there,” he claimed. “Now other parts of me are aching, but I don’t think you’ll want to rub them, at least not tonight.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about and decided she would be wise not to ask. As gracefully as she could, she sat down in the opposite chair and began to fumble in the knitting basket for something to occupy her hands.

  “Lori?”

  She looked up warily, ready, she hoped for anything.

  “What is that short for? Your name, I mean. Is it Laura?”

  She managed not to wince. “No,” she said, as embarrassed as she always was to admit the truth. “It’s Lorelei.”

  She braced herself for his expression of surprise, the re-action she usually got, unless she received outright laughter at such a ridiculous name. Instead, Adam merely nodded his head, as if he had expected as much. “I should have known. The siren from the sea who lures men to their doom.”

  “What?”

  “Your name. Didn’t you know that’s what it means?”

  She shook her head. She’d always been too humiliated to even consider the possibility it might have a meaning, too.

  “The Lorelei was a mythical creature, a beautiful young woman who sat on the rocks by the sea and sang lovely songs. Sailors who hadn’t seen a woman in months would be lured by those songs, and their ships would wreck on the rocks.”

  “How awful!” she cried, more mortified than ever over her parents’ fanciful choice of a name for her.

  “Perhaps not,” Adam disagreed. “I can think of many less pleasant ways to die. And to live, too.” His crystal blue eyes darkened, and Lori instantly felt the urge to lighten them again.

  “What do you mean?”

  For a moment, she was afraid he wouldn’t reply, and then he smiled sadly. “I mean it might be worse to hear the Lorelei’s song and not even be able to try to reach her because something holds you back.”

  She couldn’t imagine what he was talking about, until she noticed he was rubbing his thigh again. Surely, he didn’t think... But of course he did. He was so proud. He would hate anything that held him back, even if it was only in his imagination.

  She should tell him she didn’t care, that it didn’t matter if his leg was whole or not, that even still he was ten times the man of anyone else she knew. She should tell him that she loved him, that she’d always loved him, and that part of the reason she did was because of his courage.

  But while she was trying to find the words, she saw him lean his head back against the chair again and close his eyes and sigh wearily. And after a moment, his hand stilled from rubbing his thigh, and she knew he was asleep. She would tell him, but not tonight. Not when he was so tired. But soon. She would have to tell him soon. And when she did, perhaps she would also find the courage to do what he really wanted and finish what they’d started tonight.

  ***

  Eric muttered a curse as he rode along, wiping the sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve. Every time he thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. First, there was the choking dust, then drowning rain for days and days, and now the whole world had turned into a simmering swamp. The heat was suffocating, the air thick enough to cut, and not even shade could provide a respite from the miasma.

  Not that there even was any shade, ei
ther, at least not as far as Eric could see, unless you wanted to crawl under some sticker bush. This road seemed to go on forever with nothing in sight. How in the hell they were supposed to scavenge for food when there was nothing out here but...

  Then he saw it, a solitary cabin sitting in the middle of nowhere. Smoke curled from the chimney, and a few scraps of laundry hung drying on some scrubby bushes.

  “Look there, Lieutenant,” Billy called, pointing.

  “Seems we’re in luck, boys,” Eric informed his troops. He’d only brought a few of them with him. If they found anything really good, he didn’t want to have to share it with everyone.

  One of them coughed, and as if that was a cue, several others echoed the sound. It sent Eric’s teeth on edge. If there was one thing he hated, it was sickness, and the rain seemed to have made half of Rip Ford’s army sick. How anybody could have a cold when it was hot enough to roast meat without lighting a fire, Eric sure as hell didn’t know.

  “I hope they got a pig,” Billy said. He was one of the few who wasn’t sick yet. “I sure could use a big plate of pork chops.”

  “You let me do the talking,” Eric warned them. “Your job is to back me in case there’s trouble, but there shouldn’t be any. The Captain gave me plenty of script to pay for whatever we take.”

  One of the other boys snorted derisively. “They won’t want no script. Everybody knows it’s worthless.”

  That was true, of course, which was why Eric needed armed troops with him. If a farmer wasn’t eager to donate his provender to the Confederate cause, they would have to take it by force. In fact, Eric was kind of hoping they would. After the Yankees had fled ffom Rio Grande City, they’d been stranded for weeks again, waiting for supplies that never came. All this waiting was making him restless again, and he knew just what he needed to calm him down again.

  “I wonder do they got any girls at this place,” Billy said, inspiring some snickers from the other boys.