Indigo

by Beverly Jenkins

  He grinned. "Be careful baby girl, I bite. I'll give you more French than you'll know what to do with."

  The heat in his eyes made her heart race even faster than before. "What on earth does that mean?"

  "You're the one laughing at my vocabulary, you tell me.

  Hester felt as if she'd just walked into a wolf’s den, and it was the most tantalizing and forbidding place she'd ever entered.

  "Now," he said coaxingly, "take off your shoes please, or so help me, I will come over there and kiss you so long and deep, those ugly little brogans will melt from your feet."

  Hester swayed on legs suddenly turned to sand. "You are incorrigible..."

  "And this is only the beginning..." he promised her.

  Hester removed her shoes and once she was barefoot, she felt so out of her element, she hesitated to join him at the river's edge. The years of stomping raw indigo plants had stained her feet far more heavily than her hands. Her feet were purple all the way past her ankles. "Galen, this is very embarrassing for me."

  "I won't let it be. There's not a portion of your body that isn't beautiful, Hester Wyatt."

  It was the second time today he'd referred to her as beautiful. She had no idea how to react to such a comment; no one had ever described her in those terms before.

  Encouraged by his patience though, Hester stood, and as she did, the sweeping movement of her skirt's hem revealed her bare feet. No man had seen her feet bare since she'd come north and began wearing shoes.

  Galen smiled. "Now, is that so bad? You have lovely little purple toes."

  Hester glanced down at her feet. "A real gentleman would not make mention of a lady's bare feet," she said with mock rebuke.

  "A real lady wouldn't be out in her bare feet."

  Her reaction, an offended-sounding gasp, made him laugh aloud. He told her, "I'm sorry, but you're so prim sometimes it's hard not to tease you. You need more fun in your life, petite Indigo, and I'm here at your service. Now come on over here and play with me."

  In spite of Hester's initial misgivings, she did have fun. She and Galen sat on the river's edge and made mud pies and castles complete with bridges and moats. He taught her how to skip stones and call to the ducks on the river. They looked at clouds, dug for pirate gold, and fed on one another's smiles. When the sun began its slow slide below the horizon, they both knew the time had come to head back. They'd been at the river all day.

  Hester couldn't decide who was the filthiest; they were both covered with mud. "This is all your fault, you know," she scolded him with mock severity.

  "Guilty as charged," he replied. Galen regretted he would not be able to invite her into his bath and slide a bar of scented soap over her ebony body until she was clean. He felt his arousal awaken in response to the imagined scenario and decided they should probably head back to the house before he broke his vow to leave her untouched. It was the hardest vow he'd undertaken in quite some time; he only hoped he didn't break it in the few days he had remaining.

  Back at the house, while Galen hauled in water for hot baths, Hester set about getting them something to eat. The lateness of the day made a real dinner impossible, but she did have the remains of Branton Hubble's ham and plenty of bread. They ate sandwiches and drank coffee while the water heated.

  Hester looked across the table and said truthfully, "I had fun today, Galen. Thank you."

  "Just a way of showing my appreciation for all you've done for me."

  "Do you really think I need more fun in my life?" she asked with all seriousness.

  "Yes, I believe you do. Life is too short to be so serious."

  Hester thought about the political upheaval gripping the country and said, "These are serious times."

  "Yes, they are, which is why it's important to seek out humor and beauty whenever possible. If we don't, we'll all be buried beneath the weight of the misery."

  "Philosophy, Galen?"

  "No, petite. Truth."

  After the large cauldrons of water heated, Galen hauled them up to the attic room to fill the big tub. When he returned downstairs, he pumped more water for Hester's bath and set it back atop the stove to heat.

  Hester was reluctant to end the day. Her eyes settled on his firm, full mouth a moment. How would it be to be kissed by him, she wondered. She could still recall the dizzying sensations of being held against his strong chest, and how his arm supporting her thighs burned her flesh. Her gaze rose to meet his.

  He told her, "You shouldn't look at me that way."

  "Which way?" she asked.

  "Like you want to be kissed..."

  She reeled inwardly, then fought off the desire to succumb to the temptation in his frank eyes. She said instead, "You should go on up to your bath before the water cools. I'll read while my water heats."

  Galen was just as reluctant to leave. He wanted to stay with her and relish these last few days. He'd said nothing to her about his departure, but he knew he did not have much time left to bask his weary soul in the healing pleasure of her company. "Will you need help carrying the water? I can come back down when I'm done."

  Shaken by all this, she shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary, I've hauled water all my life. I'll be fine."

  "Then I will say goodnight."

  "Goodnight, Galen. I'll see you in the morning."

  Hester very rarely bathed in her bedroom. Her aunt Katherine always considered it far more sensible to bathe in the kitchen, where one could take advantage of the warmth generated by the cauldrons of water heating atop the stove. Hester found the idea practical as well, so when the water finally became hot enough to use, she set aside her reading, the latest issue of William Lloyd Garrison's Liberator, and began the preparations. She took a moment to douse all the candles on the main floor, then tipped upstairs to get her toiletries and a clean gown to sleep in. She retrieved the hip tub from the storeroom connected to the warm, steam-filled kitchen. After filling the tub, she turned down the lamps in the kitchen to their lowest wicks and removed her clothes. The small hip tub was not-large enough to lounge in as Galen had undoubtedly done in the tub upstairs; this one, white, and decorated with fat red roses, was only high enough to reach one's thighs when standing, and only deep enough and wide enough for the bather to master the stooping position needed to rinse clean.

  Hester had never known the luxury of dawdling over her personal habits, so after scrubbing herself clean with the serviceable unscented soap, she stooped to rinse, then stepped out.

  The kitchen door swung open.

  Her startled eyes widened at the sight of Galen. It took her only a flash of a second to snatch up her drying sheet and haphazardly shield herself, but it was too late. He'd seen more than enough.

  She gasped, heart pounding, "What are you doing in here?!"

  "Well, I came down here for a few more slices of that ham—"

  "You're supposed to be sleep!"

  "And you're supposed to be in your bedroom, not down here ...nude..."

  His voice instantaneously brought her scrambled thoughts back to her barely covered state. "Turn around, dammit," she scolded.

  She didn't know which infuriated her more, the eyebrow he raised in response or the smoky, spellbinding grin.

  "Dammit?" he asked questioningly. "When did you start using words like, dammit?"

  "When I'm as angry as I am now. Turn around!"

  Galen chuckled, but turned his back. "You're very beautiful you know."

  Hester nastily began to dry herself. "I don't wish to hear that from you, Galen."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I think you probably say those words quite easily, and far too often."

  He chuckled again. "You're wrong. I'm actually very discriminating."

  She snorted and bent to dry her still-damp legs and feet, keeping a pointed eye on his back the whole while. "If you turn around, I swear, I will never feed you again."

  His responding laugh filled the shadows. "Now that is a very serious threat,
petite, so I solemnly promise to remain still as marble." Galen had come downstairs for something to eat and instead stumbled upon the sweetest treat of all. The sight of her, nude against the soft light, her body wet from her bath, stunned him. His arousal had been instantaneous. Who would have thought she would be even more beautiful than he'd ever imagined? Not even his most vivid fantasies could have conjured up such dark sable breasts, or the succulent curve of her ebony bottom. His hands ached to slowly bring those silken breasts to his lips and pleasure them until the nipples hardened like jewels. He wanted to taste her kiss, brush his caresses over the flare of her hips, and teach her things she'd never dreamed possible. He shook himself and forced himself to entertain more calming thoughts; his passionate musings were taking him down a path with no end.

  Meanwhile, Hester struggled into her gown. After doing up the line of hooks and fat ribbons which ran neck to waist down the front of the rough muslin garment, she said to Galen, "You may turn around now."

  Galen turned, took one look at her trussed up like a Sunday chicken in that ugly, high-necked gown, and laughed and laughed until he cried.

  Hester stood there with her hand on her hip, wondering if he had truly lost his mind. "What is so funny?"

  When Galen could catch his breath, he wiped at his eyes and said, "You, my petite Indigo. Where did you get that awful gown? I've seen meal in better sacks than that."

  The smart of humiliated tears stung Hester's eyes. The barb hurt, especially in light of the good time they'd shared that day. She could feel her chin tighten, and swore she would pluck her eyes out before letting him see her cry. The gown was not fashionable, but it served her well.

  Galen's smile died as he watched her whole manner go cold. He realized he'd hurt her feelings—very badly if her chin were any indication. She looked so devastated he whispered, "Oh darling . . . I'm sorry."

  Galen quickly crossed the room and very gently placed his fingers beneath her chin. He raised it so he could look down into her hurt eyes. "Forgive me," he entreated softly. "I have a vicious tongue sometimes, but I never meant to use it on you."

  He searched her face. Her manner made him ache in places he never knew existed, until now. He said to her, "Where I'm from, rapier tongues are de rigeur. I forget you weren't raised among vipers as I was. Please, petite..."

  He touched his lips to her brow, brushing them against her dark skin slowly, contritely. In a short few days he'd be leaving, and he didn't want to part this way—with sadness and hurt. "I'm sorry..." he whispered almost desperately, seeing the tears standing like jewels in her eyes. "I'll never make you sad again ..."

  His mouth brushed her lips, and he gathered her in closer. She came willingly, rising up on her bare toes to meet his lips.

  Galen groaned as her arms encircled him. Her luscious mouth was as perfect as he'd dreamed. It had not been his intent to kiss her this way—not this deeply, not this slowly, not this intensely—but he could no more stop himself now than he could halt the pounding in his blood. He teased her lips into opening by slowly sliding the tip of his tongue against the trembling corners. When she moaned in sweet response, he partook fully of the honeyed cove within, pleasuring her at a leisurely pace. He didn't want her to be afraid of this—or of him.

  Galen left her mouth, then kissed his way along the ebony line of her jaw, whispering, "Indigo..."

  Hester's head dropped back. His kisses were devastating, masterful. She had no experience to call upon, and as a result was sent reeling from the bold pressure of his kiss against the small stripe of skin above her high-neck gown. She had no name for what he was making her feel, but she didn't want it to end.

  "I want to touch you, Hester," he breathed against her ear, her lips. "You're beautiful everywhere. Let me show you..."

  She had no idea what he meant, but if the touches he promised were as achingly potent as his kisses, she knew she wouldn't protest.

  He recaptured her lips and his hands slid over her back. The rough muslin rustled in the silence of the shadowy-filled kitchen, the only sound more soft than the echoes of their passionate breathing.

  When he began to untie the top ribbon of her gown, Hester knew she shouldn't be allowing such liberties, but her virgin's curiosity had been made brazen by this interlude. She let him undo the top ribbon, then the one beneath, and then, when she felt his mouth flirting with the hollow of her throat, she trembled in response. She found it hard to remain coherent; his lips were warm, his tongue flicking against her skin, hot as a stove. She couldn't speak, she couldn't think; when she felt the touch of his hand cupping her breast, she couldn't breathe. To her surprise he bent his head to taste her nipple through the rough fabric of her gown and she swore his mouth set the skin aflame. He gave the same caress to her other nipple. She moaned and dropped her head back, her body wanting more.

  Galen gave her more. He opened another two ribbons and slid the halves aside so he could pleasure her without restraint. Her nipples were hard as polished points of onyx, and as succulent as the rarest of fruits. He kissed first one, then the other, savoring each.

  As he slid his hands into her gown to sample the soft skin of her waist and hips, Galen swore she'd been created from the finest of silk. She was warm and her hushed sighs rose in tandem with his own burgeoning desires. He knew it would not take much more to coax her virgin's body into surrendering all; he sensed it in the fervent way she returned his kisses, and in the uninhibited way she trembled and rose under the intimate movements of his hands. She was ripe, lush and open to all the pleasure he could bestow, but he could not take her, she was not his. The right to love her fully and sample the dark sweetness flowing from within her silken thighs belonged to another man. He had to stop at that moment or risk compromising her.

  When Galen gently and reluctantly eased himself away, Hester stood there feeling a shimmer from the heat still pulsing within. "Proper women aren't supposed to enjoy this are they?"

  He gave a low chuckle and slid a finger over one tight nipple. "You're pretty proper, you tell me..."

  She felt boneless, limp, yet on fire. He placed a kiss upon her lips and then began to redo the ties on her gown.

  She asked softly, "What are you doing?"

  "Helping you remain innocent, though lord knows I don't want to."

  When the last tie was done, he kissed her again, this time so warmly it sent the flames soaring once more.

  He whispered against her mouth, "Go up to your room, petite, before I strip this gown from you and never give it back."

  Hester's senses spiraled. Parts of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and let him have his way, but she knew he was correct. She raised herself up on her toes to give him a smoldering kiss of her own, then whispered, "I did enjoy it. Goodnight, Galen."

  He grinned. "Goodnight, petite."

  Despite the tumultuously sensuous events that day, Hester went right to sleep, only to be gently shaken awake by Galen a few hours later. A lamp had been lit but its low glow barely pierced the room's shadows. Seeing him seated on the bed beside her made her smile. "Did you change your mind about letting me keep my gown?" she asked sleepily.

  Before he could answer, her bedroom door opened and a man she'd never seen before stuck his head in. "We must go, Galeno."

  Hester sat up in surprise, defensively dragging her quilts to her chin.

  Galen placed a calming hand against her cheek. "He's a friend, Indigo."

  Galen then turned to the man. "Raymond, meet Hester Wyatt. Hester, my good friend, Raymond LeVeq."

  Raymond, who equaled Galen in both handsomeness and size, replied in a French-accented voice, "Enchante, Madmoiselle Wyatt."

  "I'm—pleased to meet you, Mr. LeVeq," Hester responded confusedly.

  "Give us a moment, Raymond."

  Before leaving though, Raymond reverted to his native French and asked, "Is she as innocent as she appears, my brother?"

  Galen replied in English, "Yes, now go away. I'll be there in just a moment."


  Hester saw Raymond smile as he bowed gracefully in her direction, then he departed and closed the door.

  "What is he doing here?" she asked.

  "He and his brothers are here to take me home. I've awakened you to say goodbye."

  "Goodbye?" she whispered.

  The sadness in his eyes told all. Her heart broke, but she stoically buried her emotions and asked quietly, "How soon?"

  "Moments."

  Her eyes closed for the briefest of moments. When she opened them, the pain had not lessened.

  Galen wanted to curse, to howl, do whatever possible to make this parting occur at some other time. He didn't want to leave her like this, but he had no choice. Raymond had received the coded message Galen asked Hester to wire the other day. He knew his old friend would waste little time in coming to his rescue, but Galen had not expected him so soon. "Petite, I—"

  Hester placed a tender hand against his lips to stop whatever he'd been about to say. "Just go, Galen, please..."

  He placed her indigo palm against his cheek, then pressed it to his lips, wishing for more time, wishing he could remain. His dark eyes were bleak as he whispered, "I promised I'd never make you sad again. I lied..."

  He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her—a sweet, poignant goodbye. In an emotion-thickened voice he vowed, "This is only adieu. I'll be back soon."

  He pulled back so he could see into her face. "When I return you must pretend we've never met. Can you do that?"

  Hester had no idea why he would make such a request, but she nodded.

  Galen also wanted to ask her not to marry Foster before his return but knew he had no right, at least not yet. Instead he asked, "Promise me you won't make mud pies with anyone else while I'm gone."

  Hester couldn't suppress her watery smile. "I promise."

  "At least I got you to smile," he replied wistfully, gently tracing her full mouth. "That's something."

  From outside the door, Raymond bellowed, "We must go, Galeno!"

  Galen yelled back angrily. "I'm coming, keep your damn pants on!"

  Raymond yelled back in French, "It's your pants I'm worried about!"