by Barbara Mack
The picket fence could have used a good whitewash, and the stables that Kathleen led Duncan and the unhitched horse to was little more than a shack. The front steps creaked alarmingly as they walked up to the door. “Come in,” Granny called just as Duncan raised his hand to knock on the front door where the drinking gourd hung, and she cackled when they opened the door, the gourd clanking loudly against the weathered wood.
“Those steps are better’n a hound for lettin’ me know when company’s comin’.” Her grin exposed the fact that she was toothless. She was small, even smaller than Kathleen who was barely five feet, and her stooped posture made her seem even smaller. She was also very old, and so wrinkled that her paper-thin skin seemed to droop off of her. Her white hair had thinned out, and it was no more than fuzz. She was vain about it and kept it covered with a bonnet at all times. The one today was a glaring shade of pink, with flowers embroidered in a bright green. Kathleen smiled. She’d made the bonnet for Granny when she was eleven, and the old woman loved it, gaudy colors and all. Her brown eyes were bright underneath the rim of the garish headgear, and showed intelligence and humor. Kathleen hugged her shoulders gently.
“I imagine your talent for foresight impresses some of your clients,” Kathleen said dryly, and Granny cackled again.
“That it does. Come sit yourself down and have a cup of tea, and we’ll talk about who this handsome man is, Kathleen.”
She smiled up at Duncan, who bowed slightly.
“Duncan Murdoch. I’m the new doctor, and I had to meet the famous Granny Thompson. I have heard much about you from Doctor Fell and others. Your herbal work is famous around here, and I have an interest in the subject. My mother was an herbalist.”
He clasped one of her claw-like hands in both of his. Granny twinkled at him while Kathleen rolled her eyes. The man was outrageous.
“Sit down, sit down,” Granny said. “Kathleen, help me with the tea tray.”
In the kitchen, Kathleen rummaged in the cabinets for the cups and avoided Granny’s
sharp eyes.
“Where’s the sugar bowl? You’ve moved it since the last time I was here.”
Granny patted Kathleen’s arm. “It is in the same place it always was, Kathleen. Right in the cupboard.” She reached around and pulled it out, putting it on a tarnished silver tray along with a steaming tea pot and slices of pound cake. “I can see why you’re so flustered. He’s a handsome devil.”
“Devil is right,” she said glumly, and Granny laughed. Kathleen hesitated, then jumped with both feet into the conversation she was dreading. “I . . . I need some of your sponges. The ones to keep me from having a baby.”
Her face reddened when Granny’s hands stilled on the teapot.
“Of course,” the old woman said slowly. “Kathleen, are you sure?”
Kathleen pressed her lips together and nodded silently. Granny pulled a package down from a high shelf and took several items from it. She pressed a packet of sponges into the red-faced Kathleen’s hands, who secreted them quickly in a pocket.
“You’ve heard me say this to other women many times, but never to you. Let me tell you again,” Granny said. “Soak the sponges in vinegar, and then put them inside yourself before you have relations with a man. Afterwards, stand up on your feet right away, then take out the sponge and wash yourself. It isn’t foolproof, but it works fairly well.”
Kathleen dropped her head. “I understand.”
Granny’s hand patted Kathleen’s shoulder. “It shouldn’t be shame you’re feeling if
you’re going to do this. You should be joyful. You don’t seem very joyful to me, Kathleen.”
Kathleen forced a smile. “It’s been a long time. I’m frightened.”
Granny smiled wickedly. “Looks like to me that man knows his way around a bedroom. I think I would give up frightened and buck for ecstatic if I was you.”
Kathleen laughed. “You are shameless.”
Granny wiggled her eyebrows at the younger woman. “I’m old, I can say what I want and get away with it.”
“I’d wager you always got away with it,” Kathleen muttered to her as they went through the door of the kitchen with the tea things. Granny cackled again.
Duncan charmed Granny thoroughly, and Kathleen toyed with her cake, stared broodingly down at her teacup, and let her thoughts drift. Her hand kept slipping to her pocket, to the sponges that rested there, and her fingers trembled as she wondered when Duncan would claim his payment for silence. Then Granny said something that had Kathleen jerking her head up.
“What? I didn’t quite hear you. I was daydreaming, I guess.”
“I said that parcel you sent to my nephew arrived safely. I received word from him yesterday, and he said to thank you kindly.”
“Parcel?” Duncan raised one eyebrow.
“Wool yarn from our sheep,” Kathleen said shortly. “Granny’s nephew Hartley swears he can’t get any fine quality wool where he lives, so I send him a parcel occasionally. I might have another for him soon. We had more wool this year than we planned, so I have been spinning extra. Make sure you tell him that when you talk to him, Granny.”
She met Duncan’s gaze defiantly. He stared at her for long moments before turning his head to smile at Granny. Kathleen let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, panic roiling in her gut.
“I must be getting back. Thank you for the tea, and the cake. I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Thompson,” he told the old woman warmly.
“I’m glad I passed inspection,” Granny said dryly. “I’d hate to be run out of the county.”
Kathleen laughed and kissed the old woman on the cheek. “I wouldn’t have let him do that. And neither would Dr. Fell.”
Once the horse was hitched and they were in the buggy, Duncan turned to Kathleen. She fidgeted under his stare.
“Give it to me. Whatever is in your pocket that you can’t keep your hands off of. I absolutely don’t know how you have kept from being arrested this long, if this is how bad you are at intrigue, Kathleen. You have touched your pocket at least ten times since you came from the kitchen. Give it to me.”
Kathleen tilted her chin and felt weak tears fill her eyes. Was there no end to her humiliation?
“No.”
“I’m bigger than you, Kathleen. I can take it, or you can give it to me. You choose.”
Kathleen bowed her head and stared at the toe of her worn boots. She needed a new pair, she thought absently, and then laughed shortly. How she could think of boots now . . .
She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out the sponges, slamming them into his hand, and then wrapped her arms around herself for comfort.
“There! Is there anything else you would like me to do to humiliate myself before you take me somewhere and defile me? Maybe you would like me to strip naked and walk down the main street of town,” she said bitterly, turning her face away from him. Her chin wobbled, and she gritted her teeth together to make it stop, blinking back the weak tears furiously. Duncan put a hand out and turned her face back to him, his eyes falsely tender. One tear escaped to Kathleen’s chagrin, and he wiped it away with his thumb. She jerked out of his grasp, furious at the warmth that flooded her at his touch.
“I asked Granny for something to help prevent conception. May I have them back?”
He stared down at them for a long time. Finally, he put the small package back into her outstretched hand, and Kathleen stuffed them back into her pocket. He clucked to the horse, and Kathleen gripped the seat of the buggy, scooting as far from Duncan as she possibly could. They rode in silence for a long while, then just when Kathleen thought she could bear it no more, Duncan spoke in a hard, cold voice that sent a shiver down her spine, though she did her best to hide it.
“I can’t believe that you would involve that old woman in your perfidy. Parcels of wool, my arse. Do you think that I don’t know what the drinking gourd on the door and the quilt hanging from the window mean?” He sno
rted.
Kathleen tilted her chin up. “She was involved with this long before I ever was.”
“Why do you do it?” he asked. “Why do you risk your life, and the lives of so many others? It is foolish and dangerous. Surely there is some other way you can show your opposition to slavery, Kathleen. Surely there is some other way you can salve your conscience besides smuggling slaves to freedom.”
Kathleen didn’t know what to say, so they rode in silence again. She did what she did; no words were going to change that, so she just kept her mouth shut. It was a comfortable silence this time, much to Kathleen’s surprise. She’d not thought it possible to be comfortable in the good doctor’s company, considering what was between them. Kathleen was frustrated at her inability to get a fix on him.
Duncan had come here as Dr. Fell’s partner about a year ago, and by Kathleen’s calculations he’d been here about a month when he caught her in the act of helping a slave escape to freedom.
She’d been running through the forest holding a young boy by the hand, making for the river. The person who had been scheduled to escort the boy had sent a message that she could not come, but she’d no idea who would take her place; Kathleen had never met her, and indeed had no idea who had contacted her. She didn’t know any of the others who helped the escaped slaves except for the people she’d direct contact with; it was safer that way for all of them.
They made it to the cave that was sunk into a cliff beside the river, slogging through water that was chest-deep on Kathleen to get to it. Lucas and Kathleen had huddled together in the cave, barely daring to breathe. She didn’t think there’d been anyone following them, but you could never be sure.
Gradually, it had dawned on Kathleen that they weren’t alone in the small space. Clutching Lucas to her, she’d turned her head slowly, despite her fright, and came eye to eye with Duncan Murdoch.
His identity did not reassure her, however, nor did his continuing silence. They stayed in the cave for hours, not saying a word. Tension rose up inside Kathleen until she felt she would scream and the young boy had trembled in her arms, and all the while, Kathleen’s eyes had clung to his. He’d said nothing, and when she and Lucas had slipped out of the cave in the early morning, he’d still been silent.
It was months before she realized that he was stalking her during every one of her late-night rendezvous. She couldn’t make a move any more without him; he seemed to know what she was going to do before she decided to do it, and it was driving her crazy.
She’d confronted him, and that’s when he’d slapped her with that shocking ultimatum. She could give up rescuing, or if that choice was not to her liking, she could ‘spend some time’ with him and he would forget all about what he’d seen. Kathleen’s mouth curled. He’d said ‘spend some time with him’, but she knew what that was a euphemism for. If she didn’t take his little proposition seriously and just kept up what she was doing, he would go to the sheriff and turn her in.
Kathleen had been rescuing slaves since she was seventeen. One night, right after her fiancé had died in a senseless accident, when she was supposed to be snug in her own bed, she’d been wandering broken-hearted through the woods and stumbled across something she’d no business seeing. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out what was going on. Granny and her nephew were helping slaves escape.
Shocked out of her apathy, she’d watched on the sly for a couple of months, then presented Hartley with the evidence. He’d been horrified when she’d demanded to help, and at first he’d refused to let her. Kathleen had gradually worn him down, and she’d taken on more and more responsibility in the rescues over the years. She was an integral part of the process now, and she couldn’t let anybody stop her. Her lips thinned into a hard line. Especially some hardheaded lunk who thought he could tell her what to do.
What was it about the man that made him so fascinating? It certainly wasn’t his scintillating conversation, or his sterling morality, she thought with a twist of her mouth. She’d always disdained women who had fallen for men like that . . . handsome, conscienceless men who used women ruthlessly to get what they wanted then threw them out like so much rubbish. Duncan was handsome, it was true, with those crystalline eyes and that hard physique, but she’d been around men who were just as handsome as he and they had left her cold.
She could practically feel the energy crackling between them whenever she drew too close to him, and it scared her. She’d never felt this way before, but she knew it was not love. She’d been in love before, and it was a much gentler emotion than what hummed between Duncan and herself. She shivered. Whatever it was, she feared it. It was too strong, and it threatened to burn the both of them up in its wake.
Duncan felt his eyes drawn to her bright beauty again and again. She was divinely, absolutely feminine, her lush curves clearly outlined in the thin summer dress she wore, and Duncan felt his heart speed up to twice its normal rate. Lord, she was lovely. The top of her head of her head hit him somewhere mid-chest, but what she lacked in height she made up in inches elsewhere. Duncan admired those inches now, liking the way her cleavage rose and fell against the frilly lace of her bodice. Her waist was tiny, and her hips flared out sweetly. He would love to get a handful of that charmingly rounded bottom, he thought, not for the first time. She’d more curves than the Mississippi had fish.
The sun was just beginning to sink toward the horizon. Duncan broodingly watched dusky shadows deepen and grow larger around them. The clouds in the sky were stained with purple and gold by the setting sun, and Kathleen tilted back her head and stared at the beauty of them. She was tired, so tired . . .
“I wish you’d just tell me when to meet you,” she said abruptly, determined to rupture the friendly aura between them. “This waiting is driving me crazy. Just tell me when I have to do it, and let’s get it over with.”
Her voice was sharp, and it trembled alarmingly. Duncan knew that she’d been pushed to her limits today, and his tender heart ached for her. Poor Kathleen; she was so scared, all the time, and she’d no one to hold her. She put up a good front; most people never suspected that her hard shell hid such a soft center, but he could see clear through her eyes to her generous heart. He reached out a hand and gently brushed her hair back from her forehead.
He looked dark, and wicked . . . and tempting. An enigmatic smile turned up the corners of his mobile mouth, and the shadows thrown by the setting sun threw his high cheekbones and blade of a nose into sharp relief. Kathleen felt a flutter of something wild down deep inside her where it had been trapped for years and years . . . She felt a sudden urge to lean forward and sink her white teeth into him, to make him pay for the way she hurt inside, for the way she wanted whenever she looked at him.
“Kathleen,” he said in that deep voice, the one that made shivers start in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, Kathleen. You know that’s not what I meant. I said spend some time with me, and that is exactly what I meant. You know, even if you won’t admit it, that I am not going to turn you in, and I never had any intention of doing so. It was an idle threat, and you knew that all along.”
She shook her head, her eyes a little wild, her mouth trembling. He moved closer, his warmth drawing her in, making her desire things that she shouldn’t. With a broad finger, he traced the warm curve of her lips and she gasped. Duncan leaned over her, so close that she could feel his breath on the side of her face.
“When we make love, Kathleen,” he whispered in a voice that slid all over her like warm molasses, “It will not have anything to do with what you do and what I know about it. It will just be about you and me, and want and need.”
His breath stirred her hair, and he tucked it behind her ear and leaned closer. He caught his breath at the tangle of emotion that he saw in her eyes. He brought the buggy to a halt and turned her to face him completely. She went, pliant, unprotesting.
His mouth sank down, closer and closer, and Kathleen knew she’d only to make a protest and he would stop. She could get
away, she’d plenty of time. She could push him back, and she lifted her hands to do so. The traitorous appendages went, instead, to his shoulders and snaked up around his neck, one small hand fisting itself in the warmth of his dark hair. She jerked his mouth down, wanting to put an end to this awful waiting, wanting to warm the cold spot inside her on the damp heat of his skin. Duncan smiled, and she could feel it against her mouth. It enraged her, that he could be so calm when she felt ready to explode, and she made a little sound of frustration. She was heated, the fire was blazing inside of her, and he was smiling?
She ground her mouth on his, against the smile she was determined that he lose, and something sparked between them. Bodies strained against each other, lush curves against hard muscle, and he’d no time to smile anymore, no time to be calm, because she was burning him alive. Her sweet mouth moved against his, teeth scraping his bottom lip, and he was desperate for her, desperate to get closer. He pulled his mouth from hers and fastened it to the smooth skin of her neck, and she made a guttural sound that drove him wild. She dragged his mouth back up to hers with the hand that she still had fisted in his hair, and he drank the breath from her body. The dark depths of her mouth tasted as sweet as honey.
