The Officer and the Traveler

by Rose Gordon

  “I did. I wanted to tell you—”

  “How I’d soon be violated,” Michaela finished for her. “Was there anything else?”

  “No. Just that.” A blush stole over Ella’s cheeks. “But I’d hardly call it being violated. I rather enjoy—”

  “And if you want me to continue to enjoy having meals with you and your husband you’d better stop.”

  Ella tucked a stray tendril of her black hair behind her ear. “I won’t try to convince you further, but I think you’ll change your mind soon enough. From what I hear, Gray is quite… experienced.”

  Michaela’s cheeks heated and her stomach sank. She’d heard that, too, and had little faith that his thirst for more experience would be quenched now that he was married. “While I’m sure that he likes people to know that little fact about himself, as his wife, I don’t.”

  “Oh, Michaela, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to reassure you.”

  “Reassure me of what? That my husband is a depraved?”

  “No.” Ella drew the word out slowly. “That he’d be careful.” She sighed. “You can’t change what he’s already done any more than he can. It’s done, but perhaps he’s learned from his experience and can make it something you’ll enjoy.”

  Michaela stared at her sister. Had the heat gotten to her or had her sister become some sort of wanton who enjoyed that? Never mind that. It wasn’t for Michaela to judge. “Well, if that’s all you had to say, I should be going.”

  Ella’s brow creased. “Are you angry with me?”

  “No. I just…I think it’s best I don’t keep Gray waiting, that’s all.”

  “All right,” Ella said quietly. “At least let me walk you outside.”

  On the other side of the door, both men stood with their arms crossed and were leaning back against the balcony railing, neither talking nor looking at each other. Michaela had the strangest urge to giggle. They appeared just as uncomfortable as she had been in that room with Ella. Likely they knew what she and Ella had been talking about. She ducked her head to avoid either of their gazes and began walking down toward where she assumed their room would be.

  There were only four rooms on this section of the fort. Ella and Jack shared the room on the far left; next was the room she’d assumed was Wes and Allison’s by the pink curtains hanging in the window. That meant that one of the other rooms on this strip was to be her new home, unless they were to be in the other segment.

  “This one,” Gray said as if he’d read her mind.

  Michaela stopped and waited for Gray to come around and open the door for her. She walked inside and froze. During the wedding someone had moved her one trunk and travel bag into the room.

  The room itself wasn’t as barren as she thought it might be. Four tin plates and matching cups, alongside three canisters of dried foods rested on the middle shelf of the three-tier rack in the corner. A pitcher, basin, and a cast iron pot on the shelf above. The shelf on the bottom held two towels and a small chunk of lye soap. A few feet from stood a small table with two chairs, one placed on either side. The wood was heavily scarred, with a crack bisecting the tabletop. The bureau in the corner had three uneven drawers, one so lopsided it didn’t close all the way. Perched on top of the bureau was a silver plated mirror in pristine condition, glistening in the low sunlight that was streaming in through a rip in the dirty curtains.

  “I’m sure it’s not as elaborate as any new bride would have hoped for, but this was all the best pieces I could find down in the store room.” He gestured to the bureau. “I think I can fix the drawers, I just didn’t have time today before the wedding.”

  “You set this all up?” Her eyes fell on the immaculately made bed—by far the best looking piece of furniture in the room, a fact that she hardly believed was irony.

  He followed her gaze to the red and white quilt with a four-inch band of white sheet that was rolled over it at the top. “Don’t worry. Mrs. Lewis assured me they were all clean.”

  She nodded slowly. “New bedding is quite an expensive wedding gift.”

  “Likely our only wedding gift.” Gray removed his shako and put it down almost reverently on the top of the bureau next to the beautiful mirror.

  “No. Allison let it slip that she’ll be giving us another.”

  Gray shrugged out of his coat and put it over the back of the chair. “Oh? Does Wes know this?”

  “Probably.” She felt a grin pulling at the corner of her lips. “I have a feeling he might encourage her to give us more than one of this kind of gift.”

  An impish expression came over his face. “And what kind of gift will this be?”

  “One that will help make that ugly table just as beautiful as the bed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Care to sit?” Gray asked, pulling out a dining chair.

  Hesitantly, Michaela took her seat. Only a fool would think sitting at the table was how he planned to spend his wedding night, but she was thankful he wasn’t rushing her to the bed nonetheless. It did give her more time to prepare…or dwell. Yes, dwell on what would happen later was more like it, she realized as she sat down.

  “I-I’m not hungry,” she said when he plunked down a white canister in front of her.

  “All right. You can watch me eat.” Flashing her a smile, he removed the top of the canister. He pulled the canister over to him and took a deep whiff. “Mmmm. Jerky.” He removed a large piece. “Deer. Wasn’t that your favorite?”

  Her mouth watered and she nodded. How on earth did he remember such a detail?

  He put the tip in his mouth and tore off a big hunk with his teeth, then ate it, chewing with all the slowness of a snail in a race. He took another bite and her mouth watered again.

  By the time he finished the first piece, she could hardly stand it and nearly sighed in relief that her torture would soon be over.

  But it wasn’t, he reached in the canister and removed another chunk.

  She groaned.

  Wordlessly, he began eating that piece, too, laughter alight in his blue-green eyes.

  She could resist the temptation no longer and reached for the canister.

  “Uh-uh,” he said, sliding the canister closer to himself. “You don’t want any, remember?”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  He laughed, then suddenly his eyes darkened and he sobered. “Hopefully you’ll feel the same way about something else soon.”

  She wondered what he meant by that cryptic statement as she withdrew a piece of jerky from the canister. The smell of dried and seasoned deer jerky filled her nostrils, stirring up memories just as delicious as the jerky.

  She bit off a hunk and chewed slowly to savor it. Just as good as she remembered it, better even. Gray had always kept a piece or two of jerky in his shirt pocket that he’d pull out and take a bite of every now and then. He’d even given her a piece. Once. She took a deep breath and finished her jerky.

  “Would you like more?” Gray held the canister out toward her.

  “No, thank you.”

  He put the cap back into place and slid the canister off to the side. “The sun’s setting,” he commented as if he were completely oblivious to the suffocating tension that filled the air between them. The intense gleam in his eyes spoke of the expectations he had of her tonight. There was no way to interpret his primal stare as anything but. “Would you like help getting ready for bed?”

  Michaela attempted to swallow the large knot that had just formed her in throat, but she couldn’t. She nodded once. It had taken Allison, Ella and Aunt Lucille almost an hour to get her into her dress and all the layers under it, there was no way she’d be able to take it off without help even if she’d wanted to.

  Slow and sure, Gray scooted his chair back and came to his feet.

  “You looked very beautiful,” he said thickly, helping her stand.

  Michaela stilled. Was he nervous, too? No. That was foolish. Just yesterday he’d kissed her with such fl
uid finesse that would suggest he’d had a multitude of lovers. She pushed the thought from her mind. There was no way she’d ever be able to get through tonight if she kept thinking about that.

  Gray tugged at her scarf, offering her a smile.

  She relaxed the tight hold she hadn’t realized she’d had on the fabric and allowed him to remove the shimmery, laced fabric. He folded it in half and set it on the table before moving to stand behind her and face the row of buttons that went down the back of her gown. He undid the first, then the second, then the third, taking his time with each. A shiver came over her and she wasn’t sure if she wanted him just to hurry up with it or go even slower.

  Finally, he reached the last one, leaving her gown to hang open and expose her corset tapes to him.

  She stood, waiting. Would he start on her corset now, or would he remove her plush gown first and look at her thus? She tensed. Did she want him to do that? No.

  “Relax,” he whispered in her ear, his lips so close she could practically feel them against the sensitive skin of her ear.

  She tensed even more, if that was possible.

  Wordlessly, Gray slipped both of his hands into the back of her open gown, bringing them to her shoulders and eliciting those traitorous fiery tingles that always formed when he touched her.

  Gently, he rubbed her shoulders, setting her pulse to race. Why his touch did this to her, she’d never understand. His strong fingers continued to rub her shoulders, his thumbs, pushing gently into the muscles in her back. With each caress her body relaxed a fraction. If he didn’t stop, she’d crumple to the floor. She was sure of it.

  His movements stopped and he guided the top of her gown to the edge of her shoulders then let it fall. Panic grew in her constricted chest and her muscles tensed once again.

  “Cold?” he murmured, then ran his open palms up and down the skin of her bare arms.

  If she had been, that would have heated her right up. “No. I’m not cold.”

  “Nervous?” he guessed again. At her nod, he placed a soft kiss on her nearly bare shoulder and whispered, “Don’t be.”

  A strangled, nervous giggle fought to escape her throat. That was easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one being undressed in preparation to be assessed under his shrewd scrutiny. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, mentally counting to ten. She exhaled, vaguely aware that her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

  Gray slipped loose the multiple ties down the back of her corset then pushed it off of her. She lowered her lashes when it fell to the floor atop her dress that was pooled at her feet. He came to stand in front of her and reached for her hand, leading her to step out of the pile of garments about her ankles. She felt like a trollop standing before him and his intent gaze wearing only her chemise, stockings, and slippers.

  Perceptive man that he was, he squeezed her hand and said, “Would you prefer to lie down?”

  Michaela licked her lips and nodded, unable to look above his lips. Slowly so not to give away how sick she suddenly felt—for who knows how a man denied might act—she removed her hand from his and gripped the quilt, but he was faster and took the quilt from her.

  “Here.” He pulled the quilt and sheet back far enough to allow her just enough room to get in—which she did without delay. “Your stockings.”

  She would have groaned had she been able to form any sort of sound. Could he not just get on with it? Must he have to remove everything? Kicking off her slippers, she settled on the bed with her back up against one of the flattened pillows, she bent her knee and reached for the top of her stocking, then started to pull it down.

  “Allow me.” He reached around her hand with both of his larger ones, and took hold of the fabric, stilling her. Never had she allowed anyone to do something so intimate as remove her stockings and it felt…different—indecent somehow. His knuckles grazed her calf as he moved the silk down her leg. He released the fabric with his right hand and moved his palm to hold her calf as he pulled the stocking from her foot. He tossed the silk aside and lowered her bare leg to the bed before reaching for the other and divesting her of her remaining stocking just as quickly.

  Her heart thudded in her chest. Did he want her to remove her chemise now, or would he be kind enough to allow her to keep it on? He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed and ran his callused right hand up her calf and to her knee, bringing his left hand to the button that rested at the top of his shirt, in the center of the column of his throat. He pushed it free, then moved to the next. Never taking his hand from her skin, the tanned fingers of his other hand moved down to work the next button free. Followed by another and another.

  It wasn’t until his shirt was unbuttoned and she glimpsed a swath of his bare skin that she realized she’d just shamelessly watched him! She blushed and half expected him to laugh with an air of arrogance.

  But he didn’t; instead, he yanked his shirttails from his trousers, then stood and shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it to the floor into a careless heap.

  Heat stole over Michaela. She’d never imagined a man’s naked chest would be so…so…handsome. Her fingers itched to touch the smooth expanse, trace the edges of his muscles and even twist into the curling hair that covered the middle. He leaned forward to remove his stockings with far less care and slowness than he’d expressed when removing hers. When he was done, he straightened to full height and brought his hands to the fastenings of his trousers.

  Her heart slammed in her chest and she barely registered that she wasn’t breathing. She took a deep gulp of air. Had she been an innocent virgin she’d likely be anxious to see just what her mother had once referred to as the “male part”, but Michaela wasn’t as innocent as most. Not by her choice. Well, not exactly. She could have fled when she’d first walked up, but fear had kept her paralyzed with her feet rooted to the ground as a group of soldiers took turns unfastening their trousers and taking their pleasure while a woman with a ripped dress screamed and thrashed against the rough hands of the men who held her in place.

  Bile surged in her mouth and she slapped a hand over her lips to keep everything contained. She swallowed with an unladylike urp.

  “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended at your response to me removing my clothing,” Gray teased.

  Michaela forced a smile and jerked her gaze up to meet his. “Sorry.”

  “There’s no need to be sorry.” He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and brought his hands toward her hair. He found a loose tendril and wrapped the dark strands around his finger. “I suppose women don’t enjoy the sight of a naked body as much as we men do.”

  She wouldn’t say that. Quite the opposite. He was very attractive with his strong build and rippling muscles that lead to his lean waist. Even what she’d glimpsed of his strong legs when he tied on his sheath hadn’t disappointed her. But neither could she tell him what had caused that reaction.

  He released her lock of hair and let it fall, then cupped her face with his hands. She lowered her lashes and watched his parted lips as he moved them closer to her until they were out of sight and touching hers.

  Tilting her face up toward him, he kissed her with the same passion he’d shown yesterday. Gentle at first, then adding a hint more pressure, moving his lips on top of and between hers. He touched her lips with his tongue and she gasped. Murmuring her name, he did it again, this time taking advantage of her parted lips and pushing his tongue inside.

  All the starch and tension within her dissipated instantly. He slid his hands from her face to her shoulders, then down her sides, and easing her down on the bed. His lips left hers pressing kisses on her cheeks all the way to her jaw. She sighed and impulsively moved to offer him more of her face, but he kept moving. He placed a row of kisses along the bottom edge of her jaw and back toward her ear then pressed a kiss just behind her earlobe. She shuddered and sank her fingers into his thick, black hair.

  Without pausing, he trailed his parted lips along her
neck, touching every inch of skin she possessed along the way. Sighing, she moved slightly to allow him to reposition himself overtop of her.

  He shifted to the side, supporting himself on his left forearm, then reached down toward her waist.

  She stiffened, relaxing only marginally when his hand found its place on her thigh instead of yanking up the hem of her chemise. He gave her thigh a slight bit of pressure then guided it off to the side, readjusting himself to lie between her parted legs as he did so, but never once stopping his kisses.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, realizing she was on the verge of ripping his hair out. She released her grip and removed her fingers.

  “Don’t let go.” His voice was ragged. “You can pull if you wish.”

  Michaela lowered her hands back to his head to tangle in his silken hair.

  Gray arched up and kissed her lips then rested his forehead against hers and gazed down at her body. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “We don’t have to do this, if you’d rather not,” he offered after a moment.

  Her heart skipped a beat. This was the Gray who’d claimed her heart when he’d tried to stop that brutal attack on that woman and after getting hit and kicked, had spotted her and whisked her away from the men and brought her to safety. The same man who’d offered her jerky, then wrapped his arms around her and held her, making her feel safe and protected from the harsh world that she’d never known surrounded her until earlier that night. “Thank you, but you don’t have to stop. I’m just nervous.”

  “I understand that, but it’ll be better for you if you’d try to relax.”

  A smile pulled at her lips. “I think that’s impossible. I don’t think anyone can try to relax without becoming even tenser when they don’t accomplish their goal.”

  “Indeed,” he murmured. “Is there anything I can do to help you relax?”

  She bit her lip and averted her eyes. “I—I liked what you were doing,” she whispered.

  “Very well. I shall continue.”

  Before she could utter so much as a syllable, his lips were back on her skin, searing her with every touch. He slipped his right hand under the hem of her chemise and to the bare skin of her hip. Involuntarily, her muscles contracted at his bold touch. When he moved his thumb, stroking a sensitive patch of skin on her side, she jumped again, this time releasing a gasp simultaneously. He moved his hand along her side, skimming her ribs; then stopped with his thumb settling just under the curve of her breast and his fingers splayed out on her side. Would he go higher and touch her breasts? If he did, would he be gentle?