“Yes,” Alex agreed as he carefully lifted the tankard to his mouth.
“Elias wants to rename this place as well. Freedom Tavern. He’s having two new placards made—one to hang over the front entrance and one for the wall behind the bar. John Salisbury is making them both, and they’re to be carved and painted quite lavishly, to hear your father tell it.”
“Yes, I know. He’s told me all about it,” Alex said in a lowered voice. “I was rather surprised when he sat down with me this morning and began to speak. Since my return he’s avoided me, for the most part. I fear I make him uncomfortable.”
“I don’t think that’s—”
“You don’t have to try to make me feel better. I understand why he’s uneasy, and I believe that with time it will pass.”
“Poor Elias,” Medora breathed. “It seems he doesn’t know whether to ignore your blindness or treat you like a total invalid. Whether to be angry or sad.”
“You, Medora, are the only individual in this household who accepts me as a whole person. Who laughs with me and lambastes me when I need it. Who is, at least on occasion, at ease in my presence. Why is that?”
Because I love you. She certainly couldn’t tell him that. “You’re not giving your family the credit they deserve,” she suggested instead. “They care for you very much.”
“And yet I make them anxious.” Alex drank his wine, his dark eyes focused above Medora’s head.
“Give them time...” she began, leaning forward. Her elbow brushed her tankard, and wine spilled across the table, soaking into the wood. She stood to keep the dark liquid from streaming over the edge and onto her skirt.
“Clumsy,” she breathed as she lifted her head.
Alex stared at her. Not off to the side or over her head, but directly at her. Guided by her voice? Was it all in her imagination? She stepped to the side, quietly as she could, and—impossibly—those black eyes followed her.
“Alex,” she whispered. “Can you—” How could she ask such a question? It would undoubtedly sound cruel.
He smiled, as close to a mischievous grin as she’d seen from him since his return, bright and carefree. “Can I see you? Is that the question you’re afraid to ask?”
“Yes.”
He stood and reached his hand across the table. His movements were not completely confident, but they weren’t completely blind, either. “Shadows,” he whispered, “and light. For the past two days. I can’t see you, not as I would like, but I can discern your movements. Shadows and light, Medora. It’s not much, I’ll grant you, but then again... it’s more than I really hoped for.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, her voice rising gradually.
“What if this is the only improvement? Granted, it’s better than nothing, but I don’t want to raise anyone’s hopes prematurely. Not Josh’s or my father’s. Not yours.”
“What about your own?” Medora whispered.
Alex didn’t answer, but she knew that he was as afraid of raising those hopes for himself and then perhaps having to face disappointment.
“This is wonderful,” she said, trying not to sound too optimistic.
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” Medora stepped around the end of the long table, Alex’s eyes following her. “Don’t ask me not to want the best for you.”
Medora stopped when she stood before Alex. If he recovered his sight and recognized her, he would be furious. And with good reason. She’d lied, stayed in his home after he’d asked her to leave, pretended to be someone else just so she could be close to him.
His recovery would mean an end to her dream. And still she rejoiced for him. He might be skeptical, but she was confident that his recovery would continue.
“You’re so quiet,” Alex said, lifting his hand hesitantly to her face. He fumbled, just a little. His sight hadn’t come back completely. Shadows and light, he’d said.
“I don’t know what to say.” She covered the large hand that brushed her jaw with her own hand.
“I do.” Alex said gruffly. “Since my return, I’ve treated you terribly at times.”
“Don’t apologize—”
“Let me finish. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. Helped me when I refused to help myself.” His thumb rocked gently against her cheek. “If the improvement continues, if I get my sight back, I want you to stay. We just met, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend the rest of my life with than you, Medora.”
Her heart lurched, her knees went weak. It was everything she wanted, all she had hoped to hear. “And if you don’t regain your sight?”
“I won’t do that to you,” he said gruffly. “You deserve better.”
Medora took a deep breath, strengthening her resolve. “It doesn’t matter to me if you never see anything more than shadows and light. I love you.”
“You can’t—”
“I fell in love with you the first time I saw you smile,” she confessed. That was the truth, after all.
“I can’t ask you to stay, not if I’m like this.” He raised an impatient hand to his eyes, then dropped it quickly.
“Do you think me so fickle that I can fall in and out of love easily? Isn’t it enough that your blindness doesn’t matter to me? I want your recovery, Alex, but I want it for you, not for myself.”
Alex dropped his hand from her face, but Medora stepped forward, closing the short distance between them. “I love you, Alex,” she whispered. “I’ve never loved another man. I never will love another man. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that.”
“What of the man to whom you were betrothed?”
Medora touched his face lightly, almost fearfully. “I did think that I knew what love was, but I was a child. What I felt was nothing like this.”
He kissed her, a soft and restrained kiss unlike their last caress. Tears burned Medora’s eyes. She couldn’t win. If Alex’s sight didn’t return, he wouldn’t have her. If it did, he would despise her for her lies.
In the distance a shout went up, and Alex pulled his mouth from hers.
“You should’ve gone to the ceremony,” he whispered, trailing his fingers over her cheek and down her throat.
“No, I want to be here, with you.” Medora took his hand, lifted a silver candlestick from the end of the table and led Alex toward the stairway. “Are you ready to try the stairs?” she asked with a small smile. “All the way to the third floor.”
“For what?”
“Several of the rooms there look over the square. I’ll give you a detailed account of the activities.”
Alex clasped her hand and followed her lead, their way lit by the single burning candle in Medora’s hand. With one hand in hers and the other on the rail, Alex made his way slowly to the second-story landing. There they turned, and continued up to the third floor.
Caroline’s room was there, and Josh’s as well. Medora had used one of these rooms herself for a while, but when Alex returned, Sarah had insisted on moving Medora to the second floor, where the guest rooms were located. It was her old room, a room presently unoccupied, that had the best view of the square.
The rooms on the third floor were smaller than the guest rooms, but very nice just the same. Medora had never had a room of her own until she’d come to live with the Starks. The Campbells’ farmhouse was small, the family not at all small. Medora had felt crowded all her life.
She placed the candlestick on a square table near the door and led Alex across the sparsely furnished room. There, she lowered herself to the floor by the window, and Alex cautiously sat beside her.
“Goodness,” she said as she looked out on the scene below. “It looks as if we’re the only two people in New Hampshire not in attendance. Children, soldiers in uniform, women—everyone’s there. There are torches all around the square, and a stage built in the center of it all. Josh is speaking,” she said with a smile. “Waving his arms dramatically, as he likes to do, giving much of his attention to a gr
oup of young ladies who stare up at him in apparent awe.”
“Some things never change,” Alex said wryly.
“Elias is standing close to the front of the stage, his face lifted to watch Josh.”
Alex placed his hand on her shoulder, and after a few silent minutes, Medora turned from the scene below to face him. “Can you see me now?” she whispered.
“No.”
Was it a blessing or a curse that Alex couldn’t see her face, that he didn’t know that she was a liar? The silence that surrounded them was complete, but there was comfort in it. For now, Alex was beside her.
She turned back to the window and placed her palm against the cold glass. “Josh is still talking, still waving his arms. Your father is looking around the crowd, nodding to a few friends.” Medora laughed lightly. “Even the young ladies seem to be losing their patience. It seems Josh’s speech has gone on too long.”
“Imagine that,” Alex drawled. He wrapped a long arm around Medora’s waist and drew her onto his lap so that they sat, gently entwined, on the floor beneath the window.
“Medora?” he whispered, and she settled herself against his chest. “Did you mean what you said?”
“About loving you?”
“And about not caring about this... this—”
“Blindness,” she said bluntly, and he flinched just a little. “Of course I meant it.” Her voice softened, and she stroked the arm that surrounded her so gently.
A shout went up from the crowd below, but Medora didn’t move. She didn’t even look out the window to see what had happened. Alex’s arms would be her haven, her sanctuary, for as long as he allowed it.
Alex thought for a moment that Medora was asleep. Asleep in his arms with her head resting against his shoulder. And then her fingers trailed across his forearm, lazy, airy, the touch of an angel.
It was impossible that she could love him, yet he believed it was true. He heard the truth in her voice, felt it in her touch. Perhaps he could accept her avowal because he had fallen in love with her so quickly, so completely.
“I love you, Medora,” he whispered, and she stirred in his arms, lifted her mouth to his for a brief, warm kiss that made him crave more.
“You’ve just made me very happy,” she whispered, her breath against his lips. “I’ve wanted to hear that... more than you know. More than you’ll ever know.”
Her lips came back to his, burning and searching, ardent and hungry and right. As if Medora belonged here in his arms, as if his place in the world was with her, no matter what happened in the days to come.
He lifted a hand to her hair, found the pins there and pulled them out, one by one. The heavy strands fell over his hands and down her back. He loved the silky and luxurious feel of Medora’s hair in his hands, loved the warmth and the texture, the clean smell, the stroke of those strands as he threaded his fingers through the mass of soft locks.
There had been moments... hours... days in the past several weeks when he’d questioned his very life. Wondered bitterly why he hadn’t died in Yorktown. Why Josh hadn’t left him on the battlefield and allowed him to die a soldier’s death.
And now, with Medora in his arms, he knew this was the best, the finest moment of his life. A moment he would gladly give his sight to gain. Because he belonged here with her, with her mouth and her body against his. Nothing else mattered, nothing but this. Warmth, passion, love.
She shifted, then turned in his arms until she faced him fully. As her breasts pressed against him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, slipped her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, moaned softly into his mouth. When she pulled her mouth from his he protested, drawing her back with gentle hands, thrusting his tongue into her mouth possessively. But she drew away again, slowly, insistently.
Leaning forward, Medora rested her head against his shoulder, but she didn’t lessen her grip. She held on tight, stroked his hair and his neck. Melted into his arms. Her breathing was hard and deep, matching his own.
“Alex,” she whispered breathlessly, her normally musical voice hoarse.
“Yes, my love?”
She didn’t speak, but lay very still against his chest. Her hands rested against his back, soothing, warm. Her breath penetrated the linen of his shirt and teased him. When Medora finally lifted her head, she placed her warm lips against his throat, tasted him with a slow working of her mouth against his skin.
He placed his fingers against the swell of her breast, and she moved forward, pressing the softness into his hand, catching her breath in surprise. And he knew that no matter what happened when tomorrow came, Medora belonged with him, to him, tonight.
6
This might be her only chance. That was the thought that spurred Medora on, that gave her the strength to go on as she boldly pressed herself against Alex’s hand.
She’d dreamed of this, but the sensations were more powerful, more wonderful than she had imagined they could be. Shadows and light dancing through her body, new and wondrous energy in Alex’s hands and mouth igniting a bright light within her.
More than anything, she wanted to be with the man she loved, completely, fully. She wanted everything he had to give and she wanted to give him all that she was, all that she had to give.
Alex unfastened the tiny buttons at her bodice, the gentle movement of his mouth against hers never faltering as his hands loosened her gown and exposed the lace of her chemise. His tongue flickered lightly against hers, then drove deeply, taking her breath away.
His fingers swayed against her skin, teased the swell of her breasts before continuing the downward journey. Alex’s hands never faltered as he undressed her, feeling his way confidently around the buttons and ties, leisurely discarding all but her thin chemise.
She should have been chilled so close to the window, but instead she felt heated. Warmed by a heat as gentle and as strong as the summer sun. Alex touched her sensitive skin everywhere, his fingers caressing her tenderly and fanning the flames within her.
Longing to feel his skin in her hands, she tugged at the long shirt that was tucked into his breeches. Then she loosened the linen one inch at a time until she could slip her hands beneath the fabric to touch his flesh. Alex’s skin was as warm as her own, his chest hard but silken. She brushed her fingers across his chest, around to his back, reveling in the feel of his body in her hands as she took her mouth from his and lifted the shirt quickly to toss it aside. Their lips came together quickly, hungrily, and Medora pressed her hands against Alex’s bare skin, trailing her fingers across hard, warm flesh.
When Alex slipped his hand between her legs and touched her, Medora was startled by a new and incredible pleasure. He stroked her lightly, and the pleasure changed. She wanted more. She wanted everything.
Alex pulled his mouth from hers and whipped the chemise, her last piece of clothing, over her head. He touched her breasts, the hard nipples that were so very responsive, as she straddled him, her naked body pressed against his, his every touch making her ache for more.
It was Alex who drew away slightly, who slowed the frenzy that threatened to overtake them. He stood, his arms still around her, his hand dropping to brush her bare bottom almost lazily.
The candle by the door flickered, and the soft light illuminated Alex’s face for her. She could read so much on his face. Desire, happiness, even love. If only he could see her face, could see that she felt all those emotions and more. She drew his hand to her face as she stepped backward and to the bed. After kissing the palm of his hand, she moved her head slowly so that his fingers touched her cheeks and her nose, then brushed lightly over her eyes.
“Do you see that I love you?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
He placed her on the wide bed, stood at her side and shed his last pieces of clothing while she watched. Everything about Alex was magnificent. The smile she’d fallen in love with, that handsome face. Those strong arms that held her so well, the strength of his chest. The muscles in his
legs were just as impressive, smooth and hard, and the hardened arousal he revealed as he shucked his knee breeches away astounded and excited her.
She took his hand and guided him to her. Alex towered above her for a moment, then lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her deeply, perfectly, aroused within her passions she’d never expected. She craved him in a way she’d never known before, a way she had never expected. As he kissed her he touched her again, explored the delicate folds of flesh with stroking fingers.
When Alex lowered his mouth to her breast and suckled gently, Medora’s hips lifted, arched upward to meet his probing fingers, to still the demand for more. He lingered over her breasts, kissing one and then the other, drawing a nipple deep into his mouth before teasing it lightly.
When he lifted his face to hers and pressed his manhood against her warmth, she met him with ardor in her mouth and in the hips she lifted to accept him. Alex thrust deep, past the barrier of her maidenhead to fill her completely.
He made love to her, giving and taking, joining them in a way that went much further than the union of their bodies. Alex was not simply inside her—he was a part of her.
She whispered his name, an involuntary appeal, as the vivid sensations changed and grew, as Alex held her and she came apart in his hands.
His thrust changed then, and he filled her harder, faster. She felt the spasms that coursed through his body, the tightening of every fiber of his being as he whispered her name.
“Medora,” he whispered again, softly, gently as he covered her mouth and kissed her with lazy, lingering lips.
She returned his kiss, blissfully spent, unable to move, unwilling to move. She heard the faint echoes of inexpertly played music from the streets below, the shouts and laughter of the residents of Port Freedom that had probably been going on for quite some time. She hadn’t heard those sounds until now. She’d heard only Alex.
“I love you so much,” she whispered. “With all my heart. Promise me you will remember that always, no matter what.”
He traced her jaw with his thumb. “Would you really willingly marry a man who could not see? Who could never tell you how beautiful you are? Who could never see his own children?”
Behind the Mask Page 23
