Jackson quickly found his rhythm. Both of their bodies were now slick with sweat. He pumped in and out of her, his hips sliding across hers, his pelvis bone grinding against her engorged clit.
“More,” she moaned.
Jackson lifted one of her legs over his hip, opening her up wider in order to push further into her depths.
“That better?” He rotated his hips, stretching her further with each thrust.
“Oh, yes!” Lillian lifted her other leg and wrapped it around his back. “Oh, God, Jackson! I can’t—”
“Don’t you quit on me now!” He snaked one arm underneath her and tilted her bottom up slightly, allowing for even deeper penetration.
“Never! You’re so deep, Jackson. I’m dizzy!”
“I can barely feel my lips.” Jackson struggled to hold on, awaiting her climax.
“That’s all right, baby, I know exactly where they are.” She leaned up, captured his lower lip between her teeth, and bit down lightly.
The slight pain from her nibble, coupled with the already numb feeling was too much. He broke away from the kiss and came with a roar, shooting his spendings into her over and over again.
Lillian held on, her hands clenched around his biceps as she, too, was swept away. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of desperate panting. Gradually, their breathing began to slow. At last, Lillian’s inner walls had milked Jackson of every drop. He could still feel her body trembling beneath him as he began to soften inside of her.
“Don’t move.” His voice was raspy and filled with passion.
“You should let me clean up.”
“Stay right where you are.” He leaned down and kissed her face, tenderly.
“But we’re making a wet spot.”
Jackson brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face. “I’ll sleep in the wet spot, love.”
“You’ll sleep in the wet spot?”
“Yes.”
“I guess you really do love me,” Lillian teased.
“I do really love you.” Jackson ducked his head down, buried it in her shoulder for a moment, and then whispered into her ear, “I also don’t want to leave you just yet.”
Lillian sighed contentedly and stroked his back. “I love you, too, Jackson.”
“Lillian?”
“Yes?”
Jackson rolled onto his side careful to take her with him. “I bet this is just what heaven feels like.”
Chapter Eleven
Jackson finished strapping their tent to one of the camels. “Are you about ready?”
Lillian looked back at the harem tent. “I guess. Do you think they will really be all right?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. Abdulla is leaving two men behind with orders to get Ilham and Sahar back to his palace. The others can do as they wish. He’s given them their freedom.”
“What about the rest of the women and children?” Lillian shielded her eyes against the setting sun and surveyed the dozens of women saying their goodbyes to their husbands while their children ran about.
“I imagine most will stay here and wait. All I know is that I’m taking my woman with me.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “If the going gets rough, love, I want you to remember those three important words. Promise me?”
“You love me?”
“Don’t get killed.”
“Check! Don’t get killed. Got it!” Lillian confirmed. Accepting his boost she climbed into the saddle of the horse she’d been given to ride for their journey.
Jackson left her side to retrieve the black stallion Abdulla had bestowed upon him. As he climbed into the saddle of the horse he shouted to Lillian, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to ask Ahmed to check and make sure his platoon’s ready at the rear. We’ll be on our way in just a few minutes. Sit tight for me?”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Lillian answered, giving a mocking salute.
“I hate it when you do that!” Jackson said before turning his horse and heading back down the line.
Abdulla rode up to join Lillian. “You sure you want to go through with this?” he asked. “It’s not too late to reconsider. You could go back to the palace with Sahar and Ilham.”
“Why are you speaking to me? I’m still mad at you!” Lillian answered curtly.
“Me? You can’t be mad at me!”
“Wanna bet?”
“You don’t seem to be mad at him anymore.” Abdulla pointed a finger in Jackson’s direction.
“Actually, I’m still mad at him, too. I love him, but I’m still mad at him.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” Abdulla observed.
Lillian looked him in the eye. “I’m sure.”
Abdulla nodded solemnly, then turned away.
“My lord?”
“Oh, now you are speaking to me?”
“Well, a girl can’t resist your charms forever.”
Jackson rode up and joined them. “Can’t a bloke leave for two bloody minutes?”
“What do you mean?” Lillian asked innocently.
“This!” Jackson gestured between Abdulla and Lillian. “You, flirting with the royalty again!”
“I do not flirt!”
“Oh, you flirt!” responded Abdulla and Jackson simultaneously.
Lillian frowned. Just as she was trying to think of a suitable response, Ahmed joined them at the front of the line.
“The rear guard’s ready,” he said.
Jemal rode up on a large, black steed. “The front guard is ready, Lieutenant.”
“Who’s on point?”
“Ali,” Jemal replied. “I’ll ride behind him, like we discussed, with one flank guard on either side and the rest of my platoon behind.”
“You put him in command?” Abdulla asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” Jackson replied.
“And you gave him a horse?”
“Well, technically, you gave him the horse. It’s your horse.”
“He’s a servant!”
“He’s a soldier,” Jackson said patiently, “and a damn good one. He’s leading the first platoon.”
Abdulla shook his head in protest. “No one is going to listen to him.”
“Oh, they’ll listen,” Jackson assured him. “Jemal? Get the front guard in position. We’re almost ready to go. On my signal.”
“Yes, sir,” Jemal said before riding off.
Abdulla looked around at the surrounding chaos. “Where am I supposed to be?”
“You and Lillian will ride in front of the column,” Jackson responded.
“The column?”
“One moment, my lord.” Jackson whistled loudly.
All activity came to a screeching halt. The men of the camp moved as one synchronized unit, falling into formation.
“The column.” Jackson pointed behind them. “Jemal is leading the first platoon. They are acting as the front guard. He has Ali on point with two flanks. The rest of his platoon will ride behind him, but in front of you and Lillian. You’ll have a good view, but more importantly, you will be protected. The column will march behind you. I’ve positioned a few flanks on either side just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case we’re attacked en route. It’s unlikely, but I don’t like surprises. Ahmed is leading the second platoon. They’ll act as the rear guard and protect us from behind.”
“
What do I do?” Abdulla asked.
“I want you to hold this central position at the front of the column. I’m going to need to move around a bit, to check on the various units. As you saw, I command using hand and arm signals. Depending on where I am, you may need to transmit them up or down the line,” Jackson explained.
“But we don’t know what the signals mean,” Lillian said.
“He doesn’t need to know; he just needs to mimic them for now.”
“What about me?”
“You stay safely nestled smack dab in the middle of all these men, love.” Jackson reached o
ut and tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear before turning his horse to ride away.
“What? No! I—”
Jackson rode back up to Lillian, took the reins from her hands, and looked her steadily in the eye. “No? Let’s get one thing straight, right now. I am in command. What I say goes. You need to respect my authority here. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Lillian sincerely responded.
Jackson handed the reins back to her. “See you shortly, love.”
“See you shortly.”
He rode off, waving his arm in the air, giving the signal to the troops to move out. Jemal immediately mobilized the front guard, leading them out of the valley and into the desert.
The caravan proceeded, making steady progress on what was just the beginning of a long journey. Six hours and a quick watering and resting break later found Jackson riding up the line. The desert now seemed a dusky blue. As the camels and horses walked through the sand, a fine dusting rose into the air. The full moon, now high in the sky, reflected on the iridescent particles, surrounding them in an almost ethereal cloud.
As Jackson approached Lillian she yawned.
“Tired, pet?”
“Sorry. I’ll be fine.”
“If you need to doze, let me know. I don’t want you falling off your horse.”
“You can’t stop the entire caravan so that I can take a nap.”
“Wasn’t planning on it, love. Was going to let you ride double with me for a bit. I can tie you up to me snug as a bug so you don’t fall off.”
“I’m good, really. But thanks!”
They road in silence for a few minutes before Jackson began to softly sing,
It’s a long way to Tipperary,
It’s a long way to go.
It’s a long way to Tipperary
To the sweetest girl I know!
“Where’s Tipperary?”
“It’s in south-central Ireland, southwest of Dublin. Lord, it’s beautiful, Lillian. It’s so green.”
“You sound wistful.”
“I guess I’ve seen my fair share of the desert. Ever been to Ireland, love?”
“No, can’t say that I have. I’ve been to London though. I’ve seen both Piccadilly and Leicester Square. It was raining. Big surprise, I know.”
“I miss the smell of rain.”
“Rain doesn’t smell.”
“Sure it does,” Jackson insisted. “As a matter of fact, I can even smell it coming, before it starts.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely!”
“You know? Maybe after the war you can get a job working for PT Barnum. He can display you right along with the other oddities,” Lillian teased.
“Don’t think he’s hiring, he’s been dead for quite a while now, pet.”
“No!”
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the Ringling’s own the show now.”
“The Ringling’s? You’re making this up!”
“It’s true. I swear. I remember reading it in the paper. You know, when I was a lad I used to torture my poor mum by telling her I was going to run off and join the circus someday.” Jackson looked off into the distance. “My parents always thought I should be a career soldier.”
“If you weren’t a soldier, what would you be?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, after the war, you can do whatever you want. Right? I mean, sure, you have to earn some type of a living…unless you’re rich, of course. Are you rich?”
“No, love, no such luck. You picked the wrong fellow if that’s what you wanted.”
Lillian tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned to Abdulla. “So, tell me about your palace.”
Jackson moved his horse closer to hers, reached over, and grabbed her arm. “Not funny!”
“I’m only teasing.”
“Well, could you stop please? I don’t like it. And you shouldn’t tease men, especially men who have been sexually deprived. It could get you in trouble.”
Lillian lowered her voice. “I don’t think Abdulla is sexually deprived.”
“Depraved, maybe. Definitely not deprived,” Abdulla interjected. “But he has a point.”
Lillian scowled.
“What? You forgot I was here? Thought I was sleeping perhaps? Just because I’m not yammering away doesn’t mean I’ve lost consciousness.”
Jackson chuckled.
“Come on, answer the question.” Lillian turned back towards Jackson. “After the war, what do you want to do?”
“Write.” He said it without a moment’s hesitation.
“Write?”
“Always wanted to be a writer, a journalist, actually.”
“Ever been to Boston?”
“Oh, I recognize this one. Same tact that dear old mum used to take whenever I brought up my desire to write, the changing of the subject ploy.”
“No! I’m not, not really. Have you? Have you ever been to Boston?”
“No, love. Never been to the States.”
“Well, the first newspaper in America was started up in Boston. There are so many newspapers over on Washington Street now, they call it Newspaper Row.”
“You have a favorite?”
“Yeah, I take The Boston Evening Globe. I’m not much of a morning person. I like to catch up on the news before bedtime. It gets delivered right to my doorstep like clockwork. Shoot! I forgot to leave a note for the paperboy when I left town!”
“He’s probably figured out that you’re not home by now, pet.”
“Yeah,” Lillian sighed, only it turned into a yawn.
“How may hours you thinking of traveling tonight?” Abdulla asked.
“We’ll ride for a couple more hours, then we’ll take another short break before the third leg. I figured we’d stop for a rest around ten in the morning, give or take.”
Lillian yawned again. “That’s it, pet.” Jackson reached out, lifted her off her horse and onto his, placing her in front but facing him. “You need a nap.”
“You just want an excuse to tie me up,” she teased.
“Yeah! This is exactly the way I envisioned it too—you, me, and a few hundred Arabs.”
“See, aren’t you glad now that I didn’t let you talk me out of the trousers? They are much more practical. If you ask me, you should wear trousers instead of those big long skirts from now on. I’m sure in a few years it’ll be all the rage and absolutely proper.”
“You think you’re Emily Post now?”
“I’ll have you know my motivations are completely nefarious. I just like to see the outline of your legs and bum.” Jackson slid his hands under Lillian’s bottom and pulled her closer to him. “Close your eyes and rest for a bit.” He guided her head down and wrapped one arm around her. “I’ll wake you in about an hour.”
Lillian snuggled against the warmth of this chest, closed her eyes and quickly drifted off.
Chapter Twelve
Abdulla rode up abreast of Jackson. “You don’t really think she’s going to sleep—”
Jackson brought his finger quickly to his lips. “Shh. She’s already asleep.”
“Didn’t you let her sleep today before we left?”
“Of course I did. She slept…some.” Jackson tenderly ran his hand up and down Lillian’s back and smiled at the memory of the last time he’d made love to her.
“Perhaps you should consider getting yourself another wife, before you wear this one out,” Abdulla suggested.
Jackson kissed the top of Lillian’s head. “I think this one will do me just fine, mate. Besides, no one could possibly compare.”
“You sound completely besotted, Lieutenant. I find it disturbing. I had you pegged as a man of experience.”
“Yeah? Well, if it makes you feel any better, I find this more than a bit disturbing myself.” After a long pause he added, “I have a wife, back home, you know. Maria. She’s been very ill for a long time.”
“So she is unable to
service you to your satisfaction?”
Jackson looked away. “It’s complicated.”
“Explain. Pretend that we’re friends and I’m interested.”
“Her mind is shattered. They call it schizophrenia. The doctors say it’s incurable. She’s been a patient at Bethlehem Hospital for years. Many, many years.”
“So, she is unable to service you at all? Yet you have not taken another wife until now?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not all that noble. There have been other women, many other women, lots of meaningless affairs over the years.”
“And this? This is different?”
“Yes,” Jackson admitted. “My lord, if something should happen to me, I want your word that you will see to it that Lillian gets home. I mean back to America. I want your word.”
“No one else will have her. I will keep her under my protection until I can get her safe passage back. You have my word.”
“Not even you,” Jackson added.
Abdulla looked at him, a bit surprised, and then nodded in agreement, “Not even me.”
“It’s ridiculous, I know. She’s young and beautiful, smart, sexy, full of life. Undoubtedly, she will have many suitors, other lovers in her lifetime. I just want her to be able to choose,” Jackson explained.
“You reveal a weakness.” Abdulla nodded towards Lillian.
“No man is without weakness. Besides, I can still kick your arse six ways from Sunday.”
“What’s my weakness?”
“Your weakness? Really, mate, we only have a few days before we reach Aqaba, that’s hardly enough time.”
“You do realize that you are supposed to treat me with reverence, don’t you?”
“Seems I didn’t get that memo.” Jackson shrugged. “Admit it, you find me endearing.”
“I think you mean annoying.”
Jackson saw Jemal signal to him from up ahead. “Be right back.”
“What’s the matter?” Lillian asked nervously.
“Probably nothing. They’ve spotted something is all. I’ll be back in a jif. Hold this position. Anything goes wrong, Ahmed’s in charge.”
“Be careful?”
“Always.” He leaned over and kissed her briefly, but passionately. “I love you.”
The Soldier & The Spy Page 12
