Jo Goodman

by My Reckless Heart

  It was not so different from her need for him on Huntress. That's what Decker told himself when he felt her breasts pressed to his chest. He had steadied her there when the ship had pitched and tilted. It was no more than she wanted from him in her bed.

  Jonna's breasts ached deeply. It wasn't enough for her body to be flush with his, not when her shift and his shirt separated them. Her hands slipped under Decker's jacket and pushed it away from his shoulders. With no more encouragement than that, she felt Decker shrug out of it. Jonna murmured her pleasure against his mouth. Without breaking the kiss, her fingers went to the first button of his shirt and slipped it free. She did another, then another, until the opening was wide enough for her to lay one hand flat against his chest. His skin was warm, and his heartbeat thrummed steadily under her hand. She said Decker's name against his lips and felt his response in the heart of her palm.

  Jonna lay back and brought Decker with her. The weight of him against her secured and comforted. Until that moment Jonna had no idea that she desired either of those things or that they would heighten her pleasure. Her hands slipped around his back and she held him there, running her fingertips along the length of his spine.

  Decker's knee pushed at the blankets that cocooned the lower half of Jonna's body. Beneath them, he felt her respond to the pressure of his knee by opening for him. A fleeting thought, only half-formed in his mind, warned him it was just as well the blankets were there. Inwardly he cursed the obstacle, outwardly he groaned.

  Pushing against the bed, Decker raised himself on his elbows and looked down at Jonna. Her lips remained parted, the line of them slightly swollen and berry red. Her complexion was beautifully flushed and her eyes, when she opened them, were dark with the strength of her desire.

  She blinked. A fringe of dark hair had fallen forward over Decker's brow. Without thinking Jonna pushed it back, the gesture at once intimate and tender. Her fingertips grazed his temple, then his ear, and finally came to rest lightly on the curve of his neck. An odd thought occurred to her: It was the middle of the afternoon.

  "Yes," Decker said, amused. "It is."

  Until he spoke Jonna hadn't realized she'd given her thought a voice. It had been easy, with her eyes closed, to believe she was making love to him under the cover of darkness. More disconcerting to Jonna was the discovery that with her eyes open nothing changed. The way he was looking at her now, with that calm and searching and frank regard, made her glad she could see him, too.

  She glanced away, unable to hold his eyes. "If you want..."

  Decker waited. When she didn't go on he bent his head and touched her mouth lightly with his own. "If I want what, Jonna?"

  It would not be an easy thing to say the words aloud, Jonna realized. The directness with which she handled most matters of business failed her now. She laced her fingers behind his neck and urged him forward. "This," she said huskily. "If you want this."

  The muscles in Decker's neck stiffened as he resisted Jonna's pressure. He saw her surprise in the moment before he extended his elbows and pushed himself away. Sitting up, he put his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He picked up his jacket from where it lay on the edge of the mattress and slipped it on. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jonna's gaze stray to his groin. He did not button the jacket or make any move to hide his body's response.

  "From now on," he said quietly, "it has to be what you want."

  Then he left her alone.

  * * *

  Mrs. Davis opened the door to Jonna's room quietly and poked her head through. Her brow creased in consternation when she didn't see her employer in bed.

  "It's all right," Jonna called from the window seat. "You may come in." She set aside her book with no care to finding her place again. It was an acknowledgment to herself that she had only been pretending to read it anyway. "I'm glad you're here. I imagine we have a lot to discuss."

  Nodding, the housekeeper stepped into the room. "But that's not why I've come," she said. "Captain Thorne urged me to assure myself of your welfare."

  "Ah," Jonna said quietly. She could not credit Decker with good intentions, not when he had left her so abruptly just above an hour ago. The taste of him lingered on her mouth and there was still a heavy fullness in her breasts. He had kissed her with no intention of finishing what he'd started. What had occurred between them had only been for his amusement, not his satisfaction. She would not easily forget his parting words: From now on it has to be what you want. Jonna did not think he was being gracious or considerate. In her mind there could not have been a clearer demonstration that his deeper feelings were not engaged. He could take or leave her. He might say that the decision was hers, but the terms were really his.

  It had been that way since she had gone to his room at Rosefield. On that occasion she had been foolish enough to imagine she could arrange intimacy between them like she arranged any other matter of business. Somehow Decker had been able to alter the nature of their liaison, turning her proposition into a proposal. Nothing had been as she wanted it since.

  "Where is my husband?" Jonna asked. Heat rose in her cheeks as she heard the question. There was a certain proprietary air in her tone that she was suddenly aware of and certain she didn't like. In the far recesses of her mind she heard the faint echo of Decker's voice. I can't own you, Jonna. Can I? More strongly she heard his second demand. Give me Huntress. Prove you know you can't own me.

  Jonna lightly touched her throat and cleared it. "I mean, where is Captain Thorne?"

  Mrs. Davis looked at her oddly. "The captain went back to the harbor. I don't believe he said what business took him there, not that he should explain himself to me."

  "He probably told me," Jonna said. She rubbed her temples. "I'm afraid I was rather groggy for a while."

  "Of course you were," Mrs. Davis said solicitously. "Is there anything I can get you?"

  Jonna shook her head. "No, but I'd like it if you'd sit with me. We need to talk about how we shall go on from here. Decker's presence will make things more difficult, though I shouldn't think impossible. It will not be so easy as when he was staying in the house before. I can't very well ask him to take his room in another wing."

  Mrs. Davis chuckled at that notion, but her laughter faded suddenly as another thought occurred to her. "You haven't told him?"

  Although Jonna had been expecting the question, she hadn't considered how she wanted to answer it or how much of an explanation she wanted to make. "No," she said finally, simply. "I haven't told him."

  Mrs. Davis turned a wing chair away from the fireplace and toward Jonna. She sat down slowly. Her eyes were grave as she pondered the problems this presented. "Do you have any intention of telling him?" she asked after a moment.

  "No." Jonna glanced out the window briefly. The sun ducked behind a cloud and a shadow crossed her face. Fingers of icy air lifted an eddy of snowflakes off the stone balustrade below her. "Not at this time," she said. "Not at any time soon."

  "I see," the housekeeper said slowly. It was clear from her tone that she didn't see at all. More than that, she didn't approve.

  "The girls must be told they can't say anything to him."

  "I'll speak to them before he returns from the harbor. I'm sure nothing has been said to give us away. There hasn't been time."

  "I agree." She turned back to Mrs. Davis. "I've already seen Amanda. She brought in my tray. And Delores came in to assist me with my clothes before Decker dismissed her. That's two. How many others are there?"

  "Five," she replied. "Three that you know. Two that arrived since you've been gone. No one's left. I've been hard pressed to find enough work for all of them, what with you being gone and the regular staff needing to be kept busy as well."

  "Then Rachael's still here?"

  "Yes. I'm afraid the girl's somewhat attached herself to me. I don't know that she'll want to move on."

  "Her hand?" asked Jonna. "How has it fared?"

  "It's healed better than you or I co
uld have hoped for. Mr. Sheridan made certain that Dr. Hardy checked it from time to time."

  "Grant? He's been here?"

  Mrs. Davis flinched slightly at Jonna's tone. "Why, yes," she said somewhat defensively. "I hadn't thought you would mind. Have I done something wrong?"

  Jonna rushed to assure her. "No, not at all." But the truth was, she wasn't sure. "What was Grant's purpose in coming here?"

  "I believe he simply wanted to know if I had heard anything from you. Mr. Sheridan was really very kind. Knowing that you left so quickly, he always inquired if there was anything he could do to assist me. I assume it was his way of asking if I had enough money to maintain the house. I assured him Mr. Quincy was seeing to everything. And he was especially thoughtful to Rachael. I think he was much struck by her crippled hand."

  "He didn't suggest taking her to one of his abolitionist meetings, did he?"

  "No," Mrs. Davis said. "I can't imagine that such a thing would have occurred to him."

  Jonna remembered very well that it had crossed his mind. She was only thankful that he hadn't acted on the idea behind her back. "Did he notice the addition of the new girls in my absence?"

  "I don't believe so. At least not that he mentioned. There was really no opportunity for him to see them. He was never here very long."

  Jonna tried not to let her relief be too easily observed. "I suppose I'm making too much of his coming here," she said. "It was good of him to inquire after your needs. After the way we parted company, I confess I'm somewhat surprised by his interest."

  "You mean what happened at the harbor. He doesn't hold that against you," Mrs. Davis said with some authority. "The score he wishes to settle is with Captain Thorne."

  "Did he say that to you?"

  "Oh, no. He told Mr. Quincy. I understand it was quite a blow Captain Thorne delivered. Mr. Quincy described it as a haymaker. I gather that means Mr. Sheridan was knocked senseless for a time." She blushed slightly at admitting she was privy to Jack's gossip. "Perhaps since you've married the captain, Mr. Sheridan will realize there's really no point in doing anything."

  Jonna didn't think Mrs. Davis sounded particularly convinced. Though she didn't say anything, neither was she.

  "I'd like you to arrange for a new bedchamber for me," she said, closing the subject of Grant Sheridan. "I was thinking that Captain Thorne and I will take the adjoining ones across the hall."

  "Adjoining rooms?" the housekeeper asked. Her mouth flattened briefly. "Your parents never—" She stopped, realizing she had overstepped herself. Her hands twisted in her apron.

  Jonna did not chastise her. "My parents didn't have the same problems I have to contend with," she said gently. "I'm not so sure they had secrets to keep. I know you wonder at my reluctance to share our mission with Captain Thorne, but I hope I have given you reason to trust my judgment."

  "Of course," Mrs. Davis said quickly. "I can tell you I was sorely tempted to speak to Mr. Sheridan while you were gone. When he asked if there was anything he could do to help and I thought of how our house was filling up with girls, all of them needing an escort to the next station, I considered telling him what we were about." The housekeeper paused. "But I didn't."

  There was an unfamiliar pressure in Jonna's chest. Belatedly she realized she had been holding her breath. Now she let it out slowly. "I'm glad, Mrs. Davis."

  "I remember you said you didn't want Mr. Sheridan to know, and I honored your wishes. I'll do the same now."

  "I appreciate that." Jonna felt the beginnings of a headache building behind her eyes. "I believe the fewer people who know, the longer we can keep our station running. And that means we can help more young women. That's still important to me, Mrs. Davis. I don't want anything to interfere with that, including my marriage to Captain Thorne."

  The housekeeper was struck again by Jonna's earnestness. It had been like this from the very beginning. Just over three years ago Jonna had approached her with the glimmer of an idea, and since then had done everything in her power to make it a reality. The passion had been in her voice as much then as now.

  Mrs. Davis knew her employer cared deeply what happened to the black servants she took into her home. It had been Jonna's plan to make her Beacon Hill mansion a way station on the Underground Railroad and to assign herself the job of conductor.

  Besides Mrs. Davis and the young women Jonna helped, there was only one other person who knew of Jonna's role on the Railroad: the conductor of the station immediately before, the one who brought the girls to Jonna. Only Jonna knew that person's identity, just as she was the only one who knew the names of people willing to take the girls on the next leg of their journey. In Jonna's absence the two girls who had arrived came without any escort that the housekeeper could see, yet she knew somewhere nearby the conductor was watching to make sure his passengers had arrived safely and were taken in as usual.

  "It will be as you wish," Mrs. Davis said. "The rooms can be made ready this evening."

  Jonna smiled at that. "Tomorrow will be fine, Mrs. Davis."

  "It's no trouble. We have the additional help, remember."

  "Very well. Please speak to Captain Thorne to find out what his needs are. Someone may have to go to the harbor, or perhaps to the rooms he rented, to get all his belongings."

  "I understand."

  "And I would like the carriage made ready. I'll be going to see Mr. Sheridan."

  "Today?" Mrs. Davis asked. "But you only—"

  "Now," Jonna said. While Decker was at the harbor she was presented with her best chance to see Grant alone.

  "I'm feeling well enough," she went on, anticipating her housekeeper's next protest.

  Mrs. Davis stood. She smoothed the front of her apron. "Very well. Shall I send Delores to help you dress?"

  "Yes. I think I'd like to talk to her."

  The housekeeper's smile was wistful. She knew what that meant. It would only be a matter of a day or so before Delores disappeared. "I shall miss that girl. Smart as a whip, she is. Quick to pick up everything. It's hard to believe she only knew field work before she came here."

  "That speaks to your guidance," Jonna said. "You do very well with all the girls." It had always been part of Jonna's plan to provide some training for the young women who passed through her station. Mrs. Davis assisted them with needlework and cooking, teaching the skills from scratch if need be or refining talents they already had. More importantly, there were lessons in reading and writing in the evening. Education was the most consequential aspect of what Jonna wanted to provide. She saw it as vital to their survival. The responsibility that came with their newfound freedom meant they had to be able to care for themselves. They had to be able to work.

  Jonna considered Delores. She had been under Mrs. Davis's care for six months. "Does Delores know what she wants to do?"

  "A hat shop," Mrs. Davis said. "The dear girl wants to own a hat shop. When I suggested that perhaps she could work in one she told me that working for someone else wasn't part of her dream. I think it's your example she wants to emulate."

  "Oh, she can do better than follow my example," Jonna said, smiling. "And I shall be happy to tell her that myself. Please, see to the carriage and send Delores to me."

  * * *

  By the time Jonna arrived at Grant Sheridan's home, her headache had reached pounding proportions. When her driver helped her down from the carriage, she asked him to wait but did not accept his offer to escort her up the walk. She knew she was pale and still unsteady on her feet at odd moments, yet she didn't believe that she couldn't make it to Grant's front door without assistance.

  It made her fall on the entrance steps all the more humiliating.

  In the end it was Jonna's driver and Grant's butler who lent their shoulders to support her into the house. She was shown to the receiving parlor and made comfortable on the divan. In spite of her protests, a pillow was placed under her twisted ankle and the butler ordered a cold compress. There was so much in the way of fussing a
t first that several minutes went by before Jonna realized Grant wasn't in residence.

  "He's expected back shortly," the butler told her. "And he won't forgive me if I let you leave. I anticipate he'll want me to summon the doctor."

  Jonna looked to her driver. He was hovering in the parlor entrance, concerned, but clearly chafing from her earlier refusal to allow him to help. Now that she wanted his assistance, he had decided not to offer any. "I will wait half an hour," she said. "Under no circumstances are you to send for a doctor. This sprain is of no consequence, and I won't be mollycoddled."

  The butler inclined his narrow head slightly in acknowledgment of her wishes but with no indication that he intended to honor them. He backed out of the room, shutting the doors behind him, and directed Jonna's driver to the kitchen where he could take some refreshment.

  Sighing, Jonna leaned her head back against the brocade upholstery. Was nothing ever simple? She rotated her ankle slowly, grimacing as she did so and wondering how this would change the plans she had just made with Delores. On the heels of that thought came another about how she would explain this mishap to Decker.

  Her sigh this time was more of a groan. Jonna closed her eyes in response to the throbbing behind them. If she could only rest she was certain a solution would reveal itself.

  Grant Sheridan was standing over her when she awoke. He placed one hand on her shoulder as Jonna instinctively made to rise from her vulnerable position. "Don't trouble yourself," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you."

  "Did you just arrive?" She glanced past him to the large recessed windows that faced the street. The heavy velvet drapes had been drawn, but through the gold fringe that edged the material she could see that it was already dark outside. "How late is it?"

  "It's just after six," he told her. "I arrived thirty or so minutes ago."

  Alarmed now, Jonna shrugged off the hand on her shoulder and sat up. "You shouldn't have let me sleep," she said. "I told your man I could only wait half an hour."

  "I suppose he was confused. You certainly looked as if you needed to sleep."