Harris Channing

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Harris Channing Page 11

by In Sarah's Shadow


  "David?" she gasped, easing her grip. Unfortunately, she didn’t jump back, didn’t slap him as he wished she would. No, instead, she slid her hands down his chest. Cool fingertips met feverish skin and when she looked up at him there was curiosity in her eyes. Her lips parted as she gasped for breath.

  Was she so guileless that she didn't realize what she was doing? How much her close proximity had his body longing for precious contact with hers? "Another reason I feared this wouldn't work," he whispered, leaning in, his lips a whisper away from hers. "The attraction I feel for you is overwhelming and I'm weak." He moved nearer, waiting for her to respond, to push him away, something. When she set her lips to his, he was lost, tumbling toward something forbidden, yet completely permissible.

  A small sigh escaped her throat and the need grew. Was it possible that both of their pain could be eased by a simple yet complex action? His thoughts grew clouded, his thirst easing as he drank from her intoxicating cup.

  Parting her lips with the tip of his tongue, he invaded the warmth of her mouth. Dear God but she tasted good. Better than booze, the effect stronger and more dizzying. She responded to his tender entrance, her tongue flicking against his. She yielded, her fingers sliding up his bare chest leaving in their wake more glorious arousal.

  He'd never been kissed with such generosity before and moving his hands down her body, he cupped her buttocks, drawing her closer. She shivered, her hands clutching the flannel as she pulled her lips free and offered him her neck. Her charity stirred the longing the drink held at bay and he lowered his head, devouring delicate flesh. Damnation, she tasted of innocence, soap, and a delicate flavor that belonged only to her.

  Despite the trembling of his body, he easily lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Letting her down, he towered over her, taking in every inch. She lay with her arms open wide, inviting him to take her.

  Her ample breasts rose and fell beneath the wool of her gown. "Come and hold me," she whispered. "It's all right to need me, David."

  Completely awakened by the beauty that stared up at him, his need for drink subsided and his need for her gained control. Yes, he needed her. Needed to sink himself into her glorious folds, to feel the heat of a woman's body beneath his, to empty his long held seed into her beautiful reservoir. All thoughts of anything but Bobbie fled his mind. Yes, she would repay her debt this night. She would save him from the biggest monster he'd ever encountered. Himself.

  ***

  Roberta stared up at him, his pain so strong all she wanted to do was ease it. Why she hurt when he did, she couldn't fathom. And perhaps her loss made her inhibitions fly away on the gusts of wind that battered the cabin. The only thing she was certain of was the need in her, the need to feel a connection, not just to another human being, but to David. And David was here and his green eyes bespoke of his own desire, his lips parted as he dragged air into his lungs in gulps.

  She lifted her arms to welcome him. His kisses made her forget she was a lady, forget she was a virgin, and forget everything that hurt. She didn't want to think anything, only feel. Her body was alive, every cell pulsating with wanton fervor.

  His gaze traveled the length of her body, his eyes flashing with lust and admiration. "You are glorious," he mumbled. "And you are playing with fire."

  "I know," she said, scanning every inch of him. Broad shoulders, well toned muscles, his waist narrow, his legs long and strong but it was his cock that had her attention. Even beneath the loose fitting trousers she could see his arousal. She took pleasure in the fact that she excited him. It boosted her esteem, and roused her curiosity.

  "Oh, it feels nice," her friend Colleen told her. "But the best part is just being kissed and held. Lucas likes the other best and I don't mind, especially when he takes his time."

  Without another word, he crawled atop her, his knee between hers as he parted her legs. Lifting his hand, he caressed her face as he moved ever closer to kiss her. Tilting her head, she gasped for breath, impatient to feel his mouth upon hers.

  So slow and deliberate were his actions that she grew more and more impatient. Why did he make her wait? What was he doing? Was he taking his time or tormenting her?

  Her thoughts swirled through her mind. Shouldn't she stop him? Shouldn't she push him away? But how could she, when his lips made her forget. His hands caressing her body had the memories of her family momentarily forgotten. Oh, how she wanted to forget. Needed to remember that there was still pleasure left to be had.

  She rose up to claim the longed for connection, her mouth open to his, and she gently sucked his lower lip. His whiskers scratched her tender flesh, the sensation not painful, but a pleasant burn.

  He pulled away, the smile on his face illuminated by the pale firelight. Why did he taunt with his kisses? She was here, ready for him, was he truly going to turn her away?

  "Where are you going?" she asked.

  "Nowhere," he mumbled. "I am gazing upon my savior."

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer, her breasts pressed, against his torso, her heart beating so rapidly that she thought it may explode. She quivered as moisture slipped from her core and a delightful twinge rattled from deep within her belly.

  As if sensing her complete surrender, David moved down her body, his hands trembling as he unfastened the buttons that held her bodice together. She lay still, watching him, memorizing every aspect of his face. His features strong and bold, his nose straight, his eyes expressive, and his mouth so fabulously kissable, she licked her lips in want of more.

  Freeing her from her bodice, he offered her a steamy glance before cupping her linen clothed breasts.

  Her breath caught in her throat and the chill that followed had her writing. She moaned when he pushed aside her shift and with the pad of his thumb circled the nipple until it hardened into a sensitive pebble.

  He leaned over her, their eyes making contact as he asked if he should continue without saying a word. "Don't stop," she muttered. "I want to feel your hands on me."

  He chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he drew the aroused nipple into his mouth. He sucked gently, the nerves sending gentle, erotic ripples throughout her body. Nothing she had ever experienced felt so good. She entwined her fingers in his hair, urging him to do more, to fill the void that had her aching. To take away the grief that plagued her every breath. To help her forget for a moment that her family was gone from her forever.

  "You ought to only lay with your husband," Ma said, setting aside her sewing and staring at her with a seriousness she usually held in reserve for church sermons. "I know it's not good to speak of such things but boys are starting to notice you and your Pa worries that I've let you be wild for too long."

  "Lay with my husband?" she asked, staring at her sloppily darned stocking. Oh, how she hated to sew. "I don't think I want to get married at all."

  "You will," her mother smiled. "And when you do, your husband is going to want a woman untouched by other men. Promise me you'll be a good girl."

  "Of course I promise. That's the easiest promise I'll ever make."

  And up until now, that had been the truth.

  Guilt had her opening her eyes. "David," she cried out, shoving at his broad shoulders. "We can't do this. It's wrong, so wrong."

  He pulled away, the desire in his eyes flashing to confusion. "What?" he asked, a dark curl landing on his forehead and giving him a delightfully boyish appearance.

  "I can't. I want to. I want you, but I can't." Her words came out in a pathetic rush that had her cringing. "Until I'm married I can't."

  He pushed himself up, the confusion fleeing, his countenance now overcome by rage. "What games are you playing?" he shouted. "I already told you I won't marry you."

  She scurried away from him, fumbling with her shift and bodice but her hands shook and dear God she felt like an idiot. "I'm not asking you to marry me!" Humiliated, that's what she was! She almost wished she had gone through with it just to avoid this horrific s
cene. "I promised my mother!"

  He glowered at her and then let out a frustrated growl. "I see. You'd have me break my vows to my wife and yet a promise to your mother keeps you from giving and accepting comfort?"

  "I'm sorry." She set her hand atop her stomach and fought back the urge to vomit. The whole world was wrong and she had no one left to right it.

  Grabbing his coat and boots he stalked to the door.

  "Where are you going?" she asked, tears rolling down her cheeks, unchecked.

  "I'll sleep in the barn and away from you," he said through gritted teeth. "Damn you Bobbie for making me forget and damn you doubly for forcing me to remember."

  "Please don't go. I couldn't live with myself if something happens to you."

  He laughed without humor. "Don't concern yourself with me Miss Shallcross. I have lived through larger heartbreaks than not bedding you."

  Finally, her own anger surged. He was being completely irrational and unfair. "Good!" she shouted. "I for one wouldn't want to share my bed with you and Sarah."

  The fury that illuminated his face had her wishing she could crawl beneath the floorboards. Why did her tongue have to be so sharp?

  He lifted a brow and sneered. "As if alive you are half the woman she is."

  His words cut, just as he intended and her ire grew. "Drink yourself to death, freeze in search of your liquid comfort," she yelled. "I will feel no guilt at your passing for it’s obvious that in the ground is where you want to be."

  "Good, you understand. There’s no changing me."

  "I’m tired of fighting. My compassion is spent. My life shattered. You are the most selfish man I have had the misfortune to stumble across. If only I had headed north that night rather than south."

  "Reg Crocker?" His voice took on an icy tone. "He wouldn't have stopped as I did. But why not go north tomorrow. I'm certain he would love nothing more than to share his ridiculous bed with you. But be forewarned, he will not sleep on a pallet before the fireplace as I do."

  Pulling open the door, he stepped out into the night. Without a glance, he yanked the door closed ending their argument with a resounding thud.

  Chapter 12

  "Little temptress!" David shouted at Ned. The horse blew out a breath as if in retort. "And what do you know? You're gelded." He grabbed a handful of hay and tossed it to the floor intent on making a bed. Damnation but his mood was sour and his cock ached. He hadn't felt this bad since Sarah turned him away from their bed. Their last night together.

  "I don't want to David. I'm tired and you've already planted your seed. No need." She pulled the blanket up beneath her chin.

  "So, you intend to cut me off from our marriage bed?"

  She raised a brow, imperious as always. "I am suffering in this place, you will suffer too."

  "I told you come spring we would be on our way."

  "And I told you I wanted to leave now!" Her shrill voice still echoed through his head.

  "When did you become such an insufferable brat?"

  "When you became a callous husband."

  "By insisting on a few more months in the mine?" His ire flared. Didn't she understand that he needed to prove himself to not only her family but his own? "Don't you realize you are asking me to give up our security, our child's future? I've pulled more ore out of the mine this past week than the entire time we've been here."

  "Do you really think a played out mine is going to make us rich?"

  "We're wealthier now then we were when we left Tennessee. I've found a vein…"

  "What do I care for money when I'm living in squalor?" She rolled over on her side. "Now, leave me alone. I have been sick all day and I don't want you sweating all over me."

  Grabbing a blanket, he sank down upon his makeshift bed. Sweat clung to his face and his hands shook. What would Sarah think of him now and what the devil was going on? Why were these terrible memories surfacing? Why was his mind trying to soil his Sarah? Leaning back, he closed his eyes but the drafty barn did little to aid sleep.

  He let out a low growl. What the devil was he doing in the barn while Bobbie lay comfortable in his house, enjoying his bed and his fire! Lying all the way down he used his arm for a pillow and knew the answer. Drunk or sober, clean or filthy, he was still gentleman enough not to turn a lady out.

  And, now in the quiet of the stable, with nothing but the wind whispering through the boards and Ned's contented chewing, he realized he wasn't really mad at her for turning him away. She had been right. He would have been no better than Jasper taking advantage of Sarah in a weak moment. It was one thing to make love to a tender heart like Bobbie, but he wouldn't use her. No, he cared too much about her for that.

  "Dear God," he moaned. "When did I actually develop feelings for her?" Guilt had him on his hands and knees, searching for the flask.

  ***

  "Fine, I'll sleep while you freeze to death. That won't upset me or increase my worry and guilt two-fold."

  Roberta paced before the fire, Alfred watching her from the comfort of the bed. He let out a yawn, as if bored with their antics. "How can you sleep when he's out in the cold night digging around for a drop of drink?"

  She plopped down on his pallet before the fire and held his pillow to her breast. The soft scent of soap mixed with David's natural scent wafted into her senses and her body reacted. Why did she have to warm to the coldest man she'd ever met? And despite her anger and her hurt, why did she want to run out into the night and ask him to come inside?

  It made no sense. He didn't want her and compared her to Sarah at every turn. Hurt her with his words and yet she wanted to help him. Wanted to burrow into his heart as he had into hers.

  "I must be insane," she mumbled. "He has taken care of himself in this climate for years. He doesn’t need me to be his nursemaid. He doesn't need me at all."

  As if sensing her despair, Alfred jumped from the bed, his toenails clicking on the wooden floor planks as he ambled over. Curling up at her side, he placed his head on her lap and stared up at her with soulful eyes.

  "Thank goodness you still need me, even if it's just for beef jerky and a head scratch."

  She lay down on her side, the fire warm on her face. Alfred grumbled and melded his body next to hers. Holding him close, she shut her eyes and decided that maybe a little sleep before going to the barn to fetch David might be just what she needed. After all, she was so very tired. This day needed to end.

  Thankfully, the warm dozy feeling took hold and as she reached for sleep, Albert stood. She held on to him but his soft coat slipped from her now outstretched fingertips. Her hand fell to the floor but she was too tired bring it back. And what did it matter if she was laid out on the floor? No one was there to see her pathetic display.

  ***

  David woke with a start. How long had be been asleep? God, not long enough to feel rested but long enough for his entire body to ache.

  His teeth chattered, his limbs twitched and damnation he felt hot. Did he have a fever? In the dead of winter, sleeping in a barn, his system void of drink and now he was sick? He probably caught Bobbie's illness and would have to suffer on his own.

  Sitting up, he leaned back against the drafty barn wall. He moaned, his hands shaking so hard that he had trouble pulling the blanket under his chin.

  "Dear God," he prayed for death. He'd felt bad before, but never this bad. And holy hell how he wanted a drink.

  He stared at the empty flask and once again threw it against the barn wall. Was one drop too much to ask?

  And his skin? Why did it itch, it was too cold for bugs to be crawling on him and yet he fully expected to pull back the blanket to find spiders feasting on his tingling flesh.

  "Damn it all to hell!" he shouted, staggering to his feet. He had to get out of the barn, something in there didn't agree with him. Yes, there was something in the straw that had him feeling off. Some sort of weed or herb or something mixed in with the summer grass.

  Ned stuck his head over his
stall door and offered David a blank stare, long strands of hay dangling from his soft, gray muzzle. "I don't know if you should be eating that." He stumbled toward the beast, tripping over his own feet and landing hard on the packed earth of the stable floor. His sudden movement had Ned backing up, the sound of the beast kicking the back of the stall loud enough to irritate and drive him to his feet.

  "Ned, stop that! The last thing I need is to have to repair your blasted stall!"

  His legs quaked beneath him as he stumbled toward the exit. The door closed, he pulled off his gloves and fumbled with the latch. Had it always been so damned hard to open? Over and over he dropped the damned contraption until he was certain he would be stuck in the filthy barn until Bobbie found his dead body!

  "Come on!" he shouted. Lord, but he needed out! Out into the fresh winter air. Out of the suffocating barn.

  With his heart thundering in his chest, he finally managed to open the door. Rushing out into the predawn night, he fell to his knees and scooping up a handful of snow, buried his face in its icy relief. He could almost feel the melt turn to a boil. He was so hot…so irritated…so confused. What was happening? Was he going to die? Was he finally going to get his wish? To be forever with Sarah?

  The notion had him fighting. Was it possible he didn't want to die? That perhaps there was something to live for?

  "No," he mumbled. "I think death is my just desserts." So why was he struggling toward the cabin? Why the sudden urge to see Bobbie and ask her to help him?

  Without answering the questions that swirled around his brain, he crawled up the step to the door and using the door latch as a handle, he hoisted himself upright. Opening the door, he stepped inside, his eyes drawn to the slender frame lying on the floor, her arm outstretched.

  If possible his pulsating heart skipped a half dozen beats as renewed terror took hold of him with both hands. The memory of Sarah lying dead by the fireplace replayed through his mind, transporting him back to that day. The day he took his first drink. The day he buried her and then killed her attackers.

 

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