London, Julia - The Perfect Stranger

by Radha

  Unthinkingly, he clasped her to him in a fierce embrace and kissed her fully, aware of every place they touched, of the smell of lavender, of the feel of her thick braid between them, the silken feel of her fair skin. He kissed all of that without leaving the soft valleys of her mouth or her tongue or her ripe lips. He kissed it all, touched it all, until the knowledge of his imminent departure began to pound away at his conscience.

  He lifted his head and pressed her head against his chest with his bandaged hand and tried to catch his breath. Kerrys hand fell limply from his cheek to his shoulder; he held her even more tightly to him then, feeling her disappointment and not wanting to ever let go. His heart felt jagged inside himhe was torn between his great desire and his sense of propriety, weak though it was. Somehow, propriety won, and he heard himself say the unthinkable: You know I must go soon.

  She did not move, did not speak.

  I must be to Dundee. I must stop your eviction! You know this, dont you?

  He felt the tremble in her body before she lifted her head and pushed away from his embrace, looking across the room, away from him. Aye, of course I do, she said, and rose to her feet, swiping up the jar of thick paste in one hand as she moved away from him, toward the shelf. You will miss me when you are gone, you know, she said hoarsely, and tried to laugh.

  I I shall miss you greatly, Kerry, he muttered helplessly.

  She did not respond, but climbed up on the stool, put the jar away, then climbed down and picked up a potato, pretending to study it. When? she asked.

  He sighed wearily, glanced at his bandaged hand and tried desperately to ignore the tug at his heartstrings. On the morrow. He looked up, saw her hand swipe at her cheek.

  Doona look at me so, she said, turning the potato anxiously in her hand. Its naught but the onion.

  Except that it was a potato. He did not know what to do, did not know how to comfort her, or himself for that matter. But when Kerry turned toward him a moment later, she was smiling.

  Yet she avoided his gaze, looked everywhere around the kitchen but at him. Well then, you are properly patched for your journey. Shall we join the celebration, then? she asked, and moved toward the door as if she intended to go on, regardless of his answer.

  His was a peculiar feeling at that moment, an odd mixture of true regret and a sense of relief, as if he had almost strayed too deep into the ocean, had almost lost his footing in it. He rose, smiled insouciantly. Lets, he said simply, and followed Kerry out of the house and into the waning light of the sun as it cast gold shadows on the uneven path. He walked along that golden path into a circle of gay laughter as the little community Kerry nourished drank from a common jug of whiskey.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dusk had descended in Glenbaden, and Kerry could only hope that the shadows masked her devastation.

  It was ridiculous, she thought as she took the whiskey jug May offered her, to be so affected by his announcement. She had known it would come, probably could have predicted the moment he would choose to go. Not for a single moment had she believed it would end any differently. So why then, did it feel as if her heart was being torn in two?

  Because she had come to adore him, unlike any other man she had ever known.

  She took a swig of bitter Scotch whiskey and passed the jug along.

  He had proven himself a rock, a man with a strength of character and disposition that made him quite literally irresistible. He seemed so very capable, so able to take everything in stride that she had, on more than one occasion, longed to tell him of her troubles, to lay her head on his chest and let him solve them for her. She had even allowed herself the fantasy of what it would be like to grow old with him. She loved him. She loved him.

  Therein lied the spring of the violent conflict of her emotions. She loved him, but she could never have him.

  A man like Arthur Christian belonged in the fancy drawing rooms of England where such troubles as hers did not exist. She could not and would not entangle him in hers.

  Of course he would go but how would she ever bear to watch him walk away?

  Kerry shook her head, forced herself to focus on Red Donner playing a lively jig on his fiddle, his sliced finger obviously much improved. Molly McKinnon and Belinda Donner danced to his tune, their skirts hiked high over their legs, their arms linked as they spun round and round the small fire as if they had not a single care in the world.

  The poor women had cares they were not even aware of, she thought morosely, at least not until the morrow. She had already decided to tell them the truth, that they had less than a fortnight to decide what to do with their lives, as she was incapable of devising a way to save Glenbaden.

  She would tell them all, admit her failure.

  Just as soon as she was certain Arthur was goneshe would not add humiliation to her hurt.

  The jug was passed to her again, and Kerry took another healthy swig before passing it along to someone on her right. Just beyond the circle in which they danced, Arthur sat on the ground with his shoulder propped against an old oak keg, watching her. Watching her in just the way he had from almost the moment they met, with a piercing hazel gaze that made her skin heat beneath her woolen gown. She kept her gaze averted from his, trying desperately to overcome the overwhelming sentiments warring in her body, her heart, and soul. God help her, but her longing was greater than she could possibly fathom, and the fear of his leaving agonizingly real. She desperately craved that heat and the odd tingling in the pit of her belly when he looked at her. She craved her minds image of him, holding himself above her, thrusting deeper still

  The thought jarred her, and all at once, Kerry was on her feet, in the midst of the other dancers. Holding her skirts tight, she kicked her feet in time to the music, her heels lifting higher than anyone else. Snatches of Arthurs face rushed by her as she leapt and twirled, leapt and twirled, laughing almost hysterically when Big Angus caught her arm and linked it through his, spinning her faster. Red Donner quickened the tempo, pushing the dancers into a frenzy of movement; someone collided with her and she stumbled backward, but Thomas caught her and heaved her into the crowd again.

  She danced on, ignoring the perspiration beading on her back, too intent on using the time-worn tune to purge her of this insane longing, or at least tamp it down to the black hole in which it belonged. But as hard as she danced, it did nothing to ease her anguishif anything, it only seemed to increase it. Myriad thoughts tumbled through her head; her mind and heart warred with blatant physical desire, the impropriety of her thoughts, and the overwhelmingly prurient longing to have a night of lovemaking that she would never have again. The very idea drained her of reason; she was caught in a web of physical desire, entrapped by unfathomable passion that rose up like a beast within her, stirring the rabid hunger for his touch, for the solace only he could give her.

  When Red Donner ended the jig, Kerry collapsed on the grass, catching her breath as others around her laughed. She could not stop herself from seeking Arthurs gaze; he was still leaning against the keg, still watching her. His gaze was more intent, harder than she had ever seen itshe could feel it piercing her consciousness, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Her stomach leapt; she faltered then, breaking the gaze between them and looking around at the others. But it was no useshe could feel his gaze boring through her still.

  When the last of the whiskey was drunk, the little group began to stagger off toward their cottages in twos and threes, their laughter drifting up in the silence of the cold night. Arthur noted that Thomas had left early on having imbibed more than his fair share of the whiskey, stumbling up the rutted path to his loft above the barn. Big Angus hoisted the community pot onto his shoulder and he and May made their way to the cottage they shared below the white house, talking softly with one another.

  Arthur remained, watching the last of the McKinnon clan without really seeing themhis minds eye was still full of the vision of Kerry dancing. She had sprung into their midst li
ke a wood nymph, graceful and light on her feet but demonic in her intensity. It was a provocative image, one he could not scrape from the back of his eyes. One that inflamed him.

  When there was no one left but Arthur and Kerry, he watched her again as she moved to douse the little fire, remembering her skirts held high, the turn of her ankle as she leapt into the air. She glanced up at him and smiled shyly as she fingered the tail of her long thick braid. Id wager youve naught seen a harvest celebration such as this.

  He had never seen a harvest celebration. Cant say that I have. Found it right entertaining.

  Kerrys smile faded a bit; she clasped her hands behind her back. You might miss our customs in London.

  That was an understatementshe had no idea how much hed miss everything about this little placethe work, the scenery, the camaraderie you, Kerry, I will miss you.

  Weve a fresh batch of biscuits. Ill see to it that youve enough for a few days.

  That would be very kind.

  She glanced away for a moment, seemed to want to speak. But when she looked at him again, she shrugged her slender shoulders as if they carried some enormous weight. Well then, I suppose there is naught left but a good nights sleep.

  Oh Kerry, there is so much left, so much left behind, so much

  I wonder if my hope of sleeping until the sun has at least touched the sky are improved given Thomass inordinate admiration of Scotch whiskey, he drawled, falling in beside Kerry as she began to move toward the white house.

  She laughed lightly at that, the sound of it dripped like honey over him. I wouldna be too hopeful were I you. The man has an uncanny way of recovering from his excesses.

  Arthur did not respondhe was too aware of her, every fiber in him shimmering with the nearness of her and the knowledge that he would soon be gone. He would never see her again.

  They walked in silence.

  When they stepped into the kitchen, the two of them pauseda bit awkwardly, Arthur thought, seeing as how he wasnt quite sure where to put his hands.

  Youll be gone early, I suppose

  Yes. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Kerry-brushed an imaginary piece of lint from the lap of her gray gown. Might you send word? I mean so we would know that you arrived safely.

  Of course. He withdrew his hands, clasped them behind his back.

  She nodded, kept brushing the lap of her gown. Well then

  Kerry, thank you, he blurted, shoving his hands in his pockets again. This has been What could he say? There were no words to describe this experience, no way to convey to her how much this extraordinary journey into Scotland had meant to him.

  Yes, it has, she said quietly. Youve a long journey aheadIll wish you a good night, she added, and solved any dilemma of a response by walking out of the kitchen. Arthur stood alone next to the scarred table, staring after her, wishing he could say all the things he longed to say to her.

  But it was better this way. Yes, definitely better this way.

  And he silently repeated that in his mind, over and over again as he walked to the room he had slept in for two weeks now, moving past her door without hesitation. Once in his small room, he moved sluggishly; peeling the linen shirt from his back as if it was a bandage, grimacing to himself when he looked at his own clothes hanging neatly in the wardrobe. He washed idly, his mind wandering, then moved to one of two small windows adorning the room and gazed up at a Scottish moon that shone brightly on the land, unspoiled and pure.

  He had no idea how long he stood there before a faint knock on the door startled him.

  Arthur glanced over his shoulder as the door opened and his heart plummeted to his feet. Kerry stood in the doorway, her hair unbound, her bare feet peeking out from a white nightdress. He turned slowly toward her, uncertain how he should receive her in this circumstance, even more uncertain when she closed the door softly behind her.

  He dropped the towel he was holding.

  She folded her arms across her midriff and looked at the floor. Arthur stood rigidly, waiting for her to speak. But she pressed her lips firmly together, then opened her mouth as if she would speak, then closed it again.

  Arthur swallowed. Hard.

  She looked up, her gaze skimming quickly over the bed before landing on him. She looked so sad that Arthur felt a pull in his chest. I doona ever want to forget the touch of your lips to mine, she whispered, unconsciously touching her fingers to her lips, or the feel of your hand on my skin. You make me long to be held as I havna in years, Arthur. I I canna bear for you to go without knowing you

  Arthurs feet were moving before his brain, crossing the room in three strides so that he could gather her roughly in his arms. He understood completely, as if he had spoken those words himself, but his voice was lost. He wanted to tell her how he admired her. He wanted to say that he would that their lives were different, that he was anyone other than who he wasand he opened his mouth, drew his breath to speak, but she put a finger to his lips.

  Doona speak, she murmured, and moved her hand to untie her nightdress. Her gaze unwavering from his, she slowly pulled it open, pushed it so that it slid over her shoulders, then fell down her body, pooling at her feet.

  Arthur could not breathe. He could not catch his breath as he gazed at her naked body. Her breasts were perfectly shaped to fill the palm of his hand; her slender waist flared gently into a womans hips, from which two legs, as firm and strong as a stallions stretched beneath. She was more beautiful than he imagined, more alluringhe suddenly fell to his knees, buried his face in the soft concave of her abdomen. He felt her hands on his head, her fingers in his hair, and then heard her soft sigh.

  That sigh sent an eddy of voracious desire spiraling through him. He clutched her hips, kneading the flesh as he opened his mouth against the smooth skin of her belly, flicked his tongue into the crevice of her navel. Mindlessly, deliriously, he moved lower, to the springy curls that covered her mons, inhaling her womanly scent.

  Kerry stroked his shoulders and arms as he held her tightly to him and vainly tried to drink her in, devour a piece of her that might live on permanently within him. The desire was overpowering, raging like a monster through him. He could not seem to have enough of her he was aware of only Kerry; every sense, every pore was filled with her, the sweet taste of her, the fragrant smell of her. The skin of his bare chest burned where her legs pressed against him, his shoulders singed by her fingers, the flames so deep inside him that they threatened to consume him altogether.

  He struggled to his feet, his lips dragging across her belly, over a firm breast, and her neck, until he was upon her mouth, his tongue sweeping between her lips, savoring the recesses of her mouth and sweet breath. His hand slid to the side of her neck, spanning her cheek. Kerrys fingers curled around his wrist, and he felt her body mold effortlessly to the rigid contours of his.

  Arthurs desire spread like molten lava through his veins, culminating in rigid attention against her belly. Kerry eagerly responded; her hips pressed against him, moving seductively in a primordial dance. He was fast losing his patiencehe had to have more, had to have all of her, and he groped for the warmth of her breasts. She lifted her body to him, thrusting forward, into his palms, and then it was his sigh that melted between them.

  It was more than a man could endure. With a soft groan, Arthur swept her into his arms and marched to the bed, falling with her onto the simple cotton spread. One arm swept into her loose flowing hair, grabbing handfuls of it as he hungrily devoured her lips. Kerrys urgency seemed equally intenseher hands were suddenly everywhere, sweeping over his arms, his chest, down his torso, over his hips.

  He palmed her breast, carefully kneading the peak to stretch taut and firm, and dragged his mouth from her throat to lave it. The sensation of her smooth skin in his mouth was intoxicating; he suckled her while Kerry thrust her fingers through his hair, pushed his head against her breast, moaning low in her throat when he moved to lave the other breast. Reverberations of desire were rumbling hard
through his body now, settling in his groin.

  Such beauty, he murmured, and reached for her thigh, brushing against the warm flesh between her legs. Kerry gasped; Arthur moved his hand upward, lightly skimming the damp curls between her legs. The heat was a full, raging inferno now, and Arthur found her mouth again, thrusting his tongue into her depths as his fingers slipped into her wet folds.

  Kerry squirmed against him, arching her hips against him and digging her fingers deep into his skin as he skillfully stroked her, circling around and over the pinnacle of her pleasure.

  My darling, he murmured genuinely, my beautiful Scottish darling. His lips fell to her neck, kissing the curve into her shoulder. Kerrys hands moved provocatively across his nipples, down his chest, but when she boldly stroked him through his trousers, the world seemed to tilt, the pressure in him building to intolerable, but oddly weightless proportions. She freed him from the confines of the buckskins with a white-hot wave of heat down his spine. But Arthur almost imploded when her hand folded around him, squeezing gently as she swept the velvet tip with her thumb, then slowly down his shaft.

  The experience was staggering-each sensation more startling than the last. This woman, this young country widow who had captivated him, was driving him over the edge of a desire he had not felt in the arms of any other woman. He was dangerously close to the edge of an emotional and physical precipice from which he knew he might never recover should he fall.

  It was too late.

  He had fallen days ago, and Arthur suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his cock, forcing her pale blue eyes to open and gaze up at him. Tiny tufts of black curls swirled around her face. Long, silken tresses draped her skin and the linens of the bed. Her breasts, magnificently exposed to him, gave her a beguiling softness that made his heart pound. He had never desired a woman so intently. He had never yearned to show a woman what he was feeling, to give her all the pleasure he could, to fulfill her in ways she had never before experienced.

  Then Kerry reached up to tenderly touch his temple, and he saw the light in her eyes, the glimmer from somewhere deep inside her. He felt himself falling into those eyes, drowning in them. Completely immersed, he could not tear his gaze away from hers as he moved between her thighs and slowly entered her. Her lips parted with her body; her eyes fluttered closed with her long sigh, and her back arched, pushing her breasts against his chest. As he slid deeper, her body tightened provocatively around him, luring him into her depths as he began to move, her body flowing instinctively with his.