Eden

by Carolyn Davidson

  She bent, her hair falling to either side of her shoulders as she lifted her gown from the chair beside her and her arms held the white muslin before her, slipping it over her head and her arms into the sleeves that would contain them. In a practiced move, she slid her dress and petticoat to the floor, her drawers with them, and then stepped from the circle of clothing, tossing the whole of it into the basket she kept there for such a purpose.

  It was a ritual he never wearied in watching, a series of movements that touched him with the graceful gestures she employed, the smiles that touched her lips as she considered whatever private thoughts raced through her mind. In the small mirror before her, he could see her face; unknown to her, he watched her, admiring the shadow of her lashes as she looked down before her, his gaze resting on the soft oval of her features, her nose so small, with just a tilt at the end, her lips, full and soft and ever ready for his touch.

  And then his heart nudged him with remembrance of the scene behind the barn and he looked at Katie with eyes that took special note of her grace and the confidence she had gained over the past weeks. Perhaps she sensed more than ever her own beauty, he thought. Maybe she thought she could have done better than to be married to a ranch foreman and be stuck in a small cabin.

  He sensed his thoughts turning once more to the man who had held her against himself earlier in the day, of the look of avarice in Clay’s eyes as he beheld the beauty of the woman before him. And John’s anger was ignited once more at the thought that Katie might have encouraged the man’s attentions.

  He watched as she looked a final time in the mirror, leaning forward to wipe at a spot that caught her attention on her cheek.

  “Come to bed,” he whispered, catching her ear with his soft words, her eyes lifting to touch his through the magic of the mirror before her. Gleaming in the candle glow, they offered warmth and beauty he could barely resist, and he held out his hand to her, watching as she turned and made her way the few feet to where he sat on the edge of the mattress.

  And rued the spell she cast over him so easily, the softening he felt as she stood before him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SHE STOOD BETWEEN his knees, her thighs captured there, her hands making their way to touch his shoulders, then his nape and the rough layers of hair that covered his head.

  “You need to have your hair trimmed,” she said softly. “I’ll sit you down in the kitchen or maybe on the porch, if it’s warm enough in the morning and clean you up a little.”

  “Do I need cleaning up?” he asked, softening the rough edge of his voice. “I’d thought I’d washed up pretty well already.”

  “You know what I mean. You just need to get the rough edges smoothed out. I’ve got my new scissors I can use on you.” As she spoke, her fingers ran the length of his dark hair and measured it against her palms, and he felt a chill travel the length of his spine at her touch.

  Her eyes softened and she looked down at him. “I can’t tell you how I feel about you, John. I don’t have the right words. I just know I want to make you a good wife and keep things just the way you want them.”

  Not prone to deny himself the warmth and comfort of her body, no matter how his doubts raged within him, he only forced a grin to his lips as he wrapped his hands around her waist. “I’m more interested in you keeping me warm right now, Katie. Not my back or my chilly feet, but way inside me, where I get chilled sometimes, where I need to feel your warmth. I need to hold you in my arms and know that you think more of me than any other person in this world, that you…”

  And wasn’t that foolish? He could take what she offered without needing assurance of her tender feelings. In fact, he’d be better off if he didn’t worry overmuch about her wants and needs.

  “I like you, John,” she said, surprise alive in her voice. “I’ve always liked you, from the very first day I ever saw you.”

  He shook his head, knowing that they spoke of two different things. “I know you hold me in high regard, Katie. But I’m talking about the love that a woman feels for a man, that one thing that binds them together as husband and wife, man and woman, male and female. The thing that joins them in a way that no one else in the world knows about, that shuts out everything but those two people. The sort of feeling that keeps them loyal and faithful to each other, no matter what.

  “My mama and daddy had that. He could look at her and I knew that she was the most important thing in the world to him. And she would touch his shoulder or his arm or lean against him for a minute and I knew that she drew strength from the love that flowed between them. That she would never look at another man the way she looked at my daddy. Sounds kinda silly, maybe, but that’s what I’ve wanted for us.”

  She turned, settling on his lap and her arms tangled around his neck. “John, that’s not silly. It’s beautiful. And you know that your strength is what makes me work so well, that keeps me breathing every day and next to you every night. I just…just crave being beside you, like my insides ache when you’re not with me. I think maybe that’s kinda what you’re talking about, John. Don’t you?”

  “Maybe so, Katie. Maybe one day it will be true for us.”

  Katie only nodded, but her words showed the thoughts that had been in her mind. “I’ll bet your folks were proud of you, John. Do you ever hear from your daddy?”

  “Oh, yeah. A couple of times a year, he writes to me, sends the letters to General Delivery in Eden. I try to keep him up-to-date, but I haven’t seen him in, oh, maybe eight years or so.”

  “Where is he?”

  “South, in Oklahoma. I was born and raised there. My daddy was a farmer, raised crops and cows and horses and mama had a garden and a passel of kids. We had a good life.”

  “Don’t you ever think about going back there?” she asked wistfully, thinking perhaps that such a place would be warm and welcoming.

  “To visit, maybe, someday. But I’ve got a life here that suits me,” he said. “I enjoy what I do and the cold weather in the winter and the long spring and summer.”

  “It must be so nice to have memories of home, of family and people who care about you.” She felt the sting of tears as she fought off the touch of envy that nudged her.

  “You’ll have your own set of memories to pass on one day,” he told her. “When we have a family, we’ll teach them all the things we know and show them how to live their lives as they should. I want my boys to ride and explore and camp out with the ranch hands and help with the roundups and the branding and all the sorts of things that men do together on the range.

  “I want our girls to learn how to keep house and cook and sew and be a woman like their mama is.” He could not escape the warmth that flooded him as he held her close, even with the doubts in his mind.

  “Come on, lie down with me now and sleep. I know you’re tired.” He rolled over with her, catching her giggle in his mouth as she expressed her delight at his foolishness, placing her under the quilt and sheet, tucking her in beside himself. He rose high enough to reach the candle, blowing it out and then, in the darkness, he gathered her unto himself and curled her against his big body, craving in this moment the soft warmth she offered.

  His hands roamed her back, pulling at her gown as she softened against him, lifting the fabric to expose the curve of her bottom, the lithe line of her thigh, his touch gentled her. She turned as he bid her silently, allowing his hand to touch as it would, exposing herself to the wandering fingertips, whispering her approval in wordless murmurs as he found places that soothed even as they aroused her to a degree of passion, submitting to his touch

  And then Katie spoke words that had been dwelling in her mind for the past hours. “John? Were you angry with me today, out behind the barn? I felt like you were about as mad at me as you were at Clay. And I don’t want you to be mad.”

  “We’ll talk about it another time, Katie.” He seemed to grow quiet suddenly, his body stiffening against her as the memory of his wife and Clay entered his mind. His whispe
r was soft against her ear and his voice grew stern, as if some dark thought had entered his mind. And so it had. His words were grim, his voice touched with the threat of anger. “I don’t want to speak of it now with Jane right beyond that door. If you led him on, I don’t know if I could forgive you,” he said, his voice a low growl.

  She nodded, aware that he was tense, his thoughts still tangled in the web of his anger earlier. And then was stunned at the fierce movements he instigated as he rolled her to her back and formed his body over hers. His hands were rougher than usual, his touch not as soft and caring, and he did not spend his kisses upon her face as was his wont.

  She felt the intrusion of his masculine parts between her legs and stiffened against him. “John? Is something wrong?”

  His laugh was rough and did not give evidence of humor, for he pushed against her and even though she was dry and did not receive him readily, he entered her body and quickly found release for himself. And then lay upon her, his weight seeming for the first time since their coming together in this bed to be a burden.

  Katie levered her hands against his shoulders and attempted to lift him from her, all to no avail for he was heavy and unwilling to allow her the space she wanted. “John? What’s wrong? Why are you treating me this way?” She heard the trembling of her voice and tried to overcome it, not wanting him to think she was on the verge of tears. For indeed, she was, unaware of why his touch was so uncaring, his movements so harsh.

  “I’m just treating you as my wife,” he said, his words holding not a smidgen of softness, his body releasing her then as he turned to his back and left her uncovered and trembling. “Can’t I take what I want from you without you getting all in a snit?”

  Katie looked into the darkness, and felt it encompass her like a shroud. This was not the man who had, until today, treated her with tender care and concern. This man was an angry mass of masculinity who frightened her beyond words. She turned her back to him, unable to look upon him, and felt a chill of foreboding travel the length of her body.

  “You have the right to take whatever you want or need from me, John. I’m your wife and I won’t deny you your rights.” She trembled then, feeling cold and unwanted, knowing the violence of anger from the man she’d married. “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you feel this way, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

  He was silent behind her and she gripped the edge of the mattress, unwilling to seek the warmth of his body, shivering with but a thin sheet to cover her.

  With an angry sound of frustration, John reached for her, pulling her against his warmth, his arm firm about her waist, his hand flat against her belly. “So long as I’m in this bed with you, there’s no need to be cold,” he said firmly, his voice as chilly as the fingers of ice that crept up her spine.

  He held her close to himself, silent and morose, as though he performed a duty that might be distasteful, but necessary. Katie twisted in his grasp, but to no avail, for he was larger, stronger and able to physically restrain her without any obvious effort on his part.

  “Please, let me go, John,” she begged, wriggling her body in a vain effort to release herself from his hold. His hand only pressed more firmly against her soft belly, his arms tightening their grip, and his voice was without expression as he spoke.

  “Lie still, Katie. I’m through with you for tonight. You need not fear that I’ll pounce on you again.”

  His words struck with brutal force and she shriveled within herself, fighting the tears that begged to be shed. Not for anything would she let him know how deeply his scornful decree had hurt her. Not for the world would she beg again, not for anything from this man, she vowed silently. He had turned against her without just cause, his hands had bruised her without reason, for she knew she would bear the marks of his fingers on her body when morning came.

  Her own fault, she admitted to herself, for she had twisted and turned in her attempts to escape him, and only her own movement had caused his hands to tighten on her flesh. That she had brought about that small amount of pain to herself was not important, only the fact that he had delivered it so casually, so readily had he clutched at her arms and formed her to his purpose.

  His invasion of her body had been harsh, yet she would not speak of it to him, for he seemed to have found little satisfaction in their quick joining. Only the sound of his rapid breathing had announced his release from the tension he’d spent upon her body, and she knew he had not received any great amount of pleasure from it.

  As for herself, she felt somehow stained, besmirched and soiled by his behavior, as if she had become only a vessel for his use. No longer a cherished wife, but a woman he only tolerated.

  When she arose it was to find the bed empty, with John apparently already gone to do chores and direct the hired hands in their work for the day. She dressed quickly, washing the tender places on her body, feeling twinges she was not accustomed to, and noting the bruises that stained her skin. She covered them with a long-sleeved dress and was thankful that only the marks on her throat were visible, there where he’d suckled at her skin, biting the tender surface and leaving a trace of his anger behind to remind her of his rough hands and mouth. Katie hid those marks beneath a high collar, buttoned to the top, so that there would be no marring of her skin to signal Jane of her distress.

  She made biscuits quickly, speaking softly to Jane as they worked together to put breakfast together, only to shiver when she heard John’s step at the back door.

  “John. I’d thought you were lost out there,” Jane said with a laugh, mocking him for his late arrival, for he normally was gone but a half hour or so after arising.

  “I had work to do,” he said shortly, going to the sink to wash up, rolling his sleeves to his elbows and bending to cup handfuls of water to spill over his head. He reached for a towel and as he dried off his gaze touched upon Katie. She felt the heat of his perusal and stood with her back to him, unwilling, unable to turn to him. She felt a flush cover her cheeks as she stirred the eggs she’d scrambled in the big skillet, poured the sausage gravy into a large bowl and then slid the biscuits from the yawning heat of the oven.

  “Coffee, John?” Jane asked, bearing a cup as she went to the table, and he nodded abruptly, his eyes still anchored on Katie. He accepted the heavy china cup from Jane and lifted it to his lips, sipping at the strong brew, and then as Katie turned, he willed her to meet his gaze.

  She bent her head, paying particular attention to the bowls she held and walked around the table to place them carefully on hot pads. The eggs steamed, the gravy sent forth a scent that tempted her and yet made her stomach roll with distress. She returned to the stove and gathered up the biscuits and the coffeepot, intent on pouring a cup for herself.

  As she sat on her chair, she winced, her flesh still sore from the misuse she’d received at John’s hands the night before, and she covered her lips with one hand, clearing her throat to hide the small sound she’d made.

  John looked at her, his gaze intent, as if he attempted to solve some great puzzle, and she merely passed the bowls to his hands, waiting until he helped himself to the food before she took some on her plate.

  John watched her closely, aware that she ignored his eyes, that she seemed intent on looking anywhere but at him this morning. And he felt a rush of shame as he recalled his treatment of her last night. She had winced as she sat down, her step had seemed to have a hitch in it, and he thought he caught sight of a bruise at the base of her throat. The kitchen was warm, the stove generating heat with a vengeance, and he wondered at the long sleeves she wore, the dress that bundled her up so thoroughly.

  “Why don’t you roll up your sleeves, Katie? You look warm over there with your back to the stove.” Perspiration dotted her forehead, he thought, and her face was pale, as though she felt unwell. Yet she only ignored his suggestion, speaking quietly to Jane, as if she had not heard his words.

  He ate quickly, more aware of her than was usual, noting the strain that se
emed to affect her features, her forehead furrowed, her cheeks pale, her mouth trembling as she ate. If he had hurt her last night, if he had caused the bruise on her throat, if her soft parts were sore from his use—he could not bear the thought, and he ate the rest of his meal with haste, then spoke to his wife abruptly.

  “I’d like to see you alone for a moment, Katie. In the bedroom, please.”

  She looked up, her eyes widening, her face turning even more wan, as if some great calamity had come about. “I’ll clean up the kitchen, first,” she said quietly, and he shook his head.

  “I think Jane can tend to things here. I’d like to see you in the bedroom, please.”

  He knew that his voice had chilled, that his words were firmer than was his wont, and saw the shiver that passed over Katie as she rose from the table. She walked to the bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind her and with a quick smile in Jane’s direction, he followed Katie, closing the door firmly behind himself.

  She stood on the far side of the room, the bed between them, the covers already pulled into place, the pillows propped against the headboard. Her hands were clasped tightly before her. She refused to meet his gaze; her eyes seeming to seek a spot over his right shoulder.

  He went to her and his hands reached for her. She shrank from him, an involuntary movement that made him growl an indistinct word beneath his breath. His fingers curled over her shoulders and he felt the shudder that swept her body as she stood silently before him.

  “Katie, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, aware that he had no doubt frightened her the night before, that she was fearful of his actions today.