"I told you to come after me when you finished," he reminded her as he dismounted. "Do you always have your skirts up, señora?"
"Only when I choose, señor."
He frowned at her flippant, defiant manner. "Is your memory so short that you can't recall my careful warnings?" He paused, hoping his words would have some effect on her. "As happy as I am to get under those skirts," he added, quickly stroking the inside of one of her legs, "I meant what I said."
Louisa drew her legs up, covering herself with her skirts. "No, I haven't forgotten what you said. But I won't be ordered about, like some―some witless housemaid, and I won't be thrown out of your bed to bow in gratitude as soon as you've had your pleasure."
''You fail to know your place in this situation, woman," he said hotly.
She slipped off the rocks to face him. "My place! Just what is my place?" she stormed. "You've only threatened me, not told me anything. Unless, of course, you expect me blindly to do your bidding." She was furious, standing very close to him, her blue eyes icy with anger. "I'm not some piece of furniture to shift at will, nor some grateful peasant eager to do whatever you command!"
Aaron was suddenly struck by how odd they must look; Louisa flailing as he towered over her. His instinct was to strike her, so vehement was her verbal attack. "Cool off, bitch," he said, easily lifting her into his arms despite her protests. In a few strides, he waded into the water and tossed her unceremoniously into the swelling surf.
Tangled in the weight of her billowing wet skirts, furious and more than a little frightened, Louisa struggled helplessly to gain control in the surging water. Aaron stood in the breakers calmly watching her, obviously satisfied with her situation. She choked repeatedly on the churning salt water, unable to regain her balance.
It seemed an eternity, but Aaron soon waded out to her and dragged her roughly toward the shore, where Louisa gained an unsteady foothold as the waves relentlessly crashed against them. The salt water stung her eyes and she gasped for breath, not fully recovered when Aaron faced her, holding her tightly at arm's length. "You're damned hot-headed, Louisa! I prefer not to use a heavy hand with you, but don't push me too fad"
Louisa was soaked and shivering in the wind. "What?" she cried in disbelief, more angry than fearful. "You've bested me with your superior strength, but I've no reason to ask your pardon! You've been much too high-handed! You came to me in nearly unspeakable circumstances, comforted me, held me, finally made love to me, made me want you―want you―not Marshall. And―you snap your fingers and tell me to jump! Do you also leave a few coins for a satisfactory performance?" Louisa's teeth were chattering now, and she shook, whether from cold or from rage it was impossible to tell. "I'm not some whore to have and dismiss, Aaron. Let's understand that! I've freely, even eagerly, come to you. But no more. I won't be debased!"
"You're begging for another salt-water bath, Louisa," he said, not harshly. He drew her cold, unwilling body into his arms and held her firmly but tenderly against him, his body sheltering her from the wind. When she relaxed a little against him, he said, "Perhaps I can afford to tell you more than I have. Then, maybe, we can stop this war between us."
Chapter Eighteen
THEY went behind the towering black rocks that offered protection from the wind off the ocean. Louisa removed her dress, wringing it out, throwing it over the sunbaked rocks to dry. She squeezed as much water as possible from her hair and her clinging petticoat, then sat in the sand spreading the fullness of her underskirt over her legs. She looked nearly drowned as she leaned back on her elbows preparing to listen to what she felt was Aaron's long-overdue explanation.
Aaron had watched her calm herself to listen to what he would reveal. He wished he could tell her everything of the long years that had preceded his arrival here, of the precious things he knew of her, of the tragic things he knew as well. But he felt most of his knowledge would have to wait for another time if it were ever to be revealed.
He moved to sit facing her, close enough to hold her if need be. "Louisa, to begin with, what I have to tell you is not to bring you grief, but to make certain you comprehend the danger you are in, to let you know that without question I have no more patience, nor do I intend to tolerate any more outbursts."
Louisa bristled, but said nothing. Aaron watched her closely, taking in the tenseness of her slender body, the wariness of her eyes. He was acutely aware of being torn between wanting to protect the beautiful loving creature he had held so recently in mutual passion, and his desire to control the independent defiant woman whose allegiance and help he could surely use.
"We're certain now that Marshall's death was not accidental," he began. "He was murdered, Louisa. And you must comprehend that tragedy in the deepest part of you. He was murdered to prevent his discovery of the illegal activities from which his father, your guardian, is making a fortune."
"Oh, God, no! You're insane! Uncle Simon would never have Marshall murdered." Her denial was vehement and spontaneous. "How can you believe it?" Louisa stared at him, soon blinded by silent waves of tears. "I don't ever want to hear you say his name again. Never again! Please! I'm begging you." Her face was distorted, her body racked with sobbing. "Is that what you want, to see me crawl and beg? Well, then, I'm begging you!" she screamed, throwing herself at him, clutching him with all of her strength. "Don't tell me these things!" She cried for some time, holding Aaron as if he could save her from her grief. "Don't you know I loved him? Surely, you must! You say you know everything about me."
He let her cling to him, digging her nails into his flesh until she had spent her tears and lay quietly in his arms. "Oh, Aaron, will I never be free?" Then she was silent, finally aware of the sun's warmth as it soothed her aching. "What else do you have to tell me?" she whispered against him, then sat up to look him fully in the face. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say. There is nothing I'm not prepared to hear."
Aaron hesitated, briefly questioning the wisdom of continuing. He looked into tear-swollen eyes, into her stark, fully alert face. She seemed, as she said, ready to hear all he had to say. So he went on coldly. "Simon had no part in Marshall's death, I'm sure. But Simon's partners in this affair care for nothing but profit―fabulous profits―and something more precious: power. Marshall was a threat to their undertaking. He was a Southerner by birth only; intellectually he was a supporter of Northern ideas and an advocate of abolition. If he'd discovered the intricacies of the plans here, identified the participants, more than a few heads would have rolled, and if not his father's head, at least his father's fortune. You recall, Simon's first love is money?"
She nodded. She was only too well aware of Simon's first love. For all of his charm, Simon's reverence for money above all else could not be concealed. "But aren't you in danger, since you've taken Marshall's place? Who else knows about his death, besides Luther Dobson?"
"No one. And Dobson is safe. Actually, he was instrumental in bringing me here in the first place."
"But Simon's partners must still be threatened by your presence. Or do you already have the evidence that Marshall died for?" She lowered her head and leaned against Aaron for comfort.
"No. But I'm gaining the confidence of Simon's friends here in California; disavowing my—Marshall's —previous political leanings. Money and power have turned many a man's head; Marshall need not be the exception, especially with a wife and child. Ethics are often overcome by practical considerations. His affair with you, 'our' eleventh-hour marriage have occasioned a lot of curious and beneficial gossip. And you've never been a creature of politics. Yet your fortune has always been closely linked to that of the Hudson family, and hence to politics. You and I can circulate in society, where our preference for pleasure and wealth above philosophy will be obvious. Then I will be deemed safe to bring into the intrigue with the full Hudson credentials."
Aaron pressed her against him, hugging her protectively. Then he took her beautiful face gently in his hands, looking deeply into her wide, sh
ining eyes.
"Louisa, I am counting on your love for Marshall, trusting you to share in avenging his death, hoping you'll come with me. I know you have little inclination for political scheming, but together we can untangle a serious, well-financed conspiracy to make California an independent republic, free to feed gold and supplies to the South in a fratricidal war that's more inevitable as each day goes by."
Louisa felt overwhelmed. What Aaron said was incredible, yet his words echoed truth she could not deny, and unwittingly she found herself in the midst of a possibly lethal plot. Would the world ever be safe from greed? she wondered. Would innocent people ever be safe from lust for power and wealth? If not mistaken, she had just heard Aaron tell her of the murder of the man she had, at one time, loved more than life itself. He had also told her of Simon Hudson's corruption, a man she had trusted above her own father, yet a man whose avarice had brought the destruction of his son. And thrust into these thoughts was her memory of Justin, a man who had bartered his soul for lusts of his own. "Why should I trust any man?" she wondered. Of all of the men she had known with any intimacy, only one, Marshall, had shown decency or purity enough to make him worthy of her complete trust. And he was lost to her.
And Aaron? Who was Aaron? Another corrupt man, another predatory animal? Or was he a hope for something more? Despite her doubts, her hesitation was brief. "Yes, I will help you. I'll do whatever I can."
"Good. You can begin by calling me Marshall," he said, brushing traces of sand from her face. "An inadvertent slip of the tongue could endanger us all."
Louisa smiled and sighed. "It's ironic. Now that I've pledged my cooperation, the first thing you ask of me is the one thing I cannot do. Of course, in public your name is Marshall, but between us, you must be Aaron, a separate man with a separate identity. If I can help myself, I'll not live among ghosts." She put her arm around him, kissing him softly. "And when we make love, it will be you I cry out to."
"Cry out to me now, Louisa,” he urged, pushing her down gently into the sand.
"Aaron," she teased joyfully, wanting him again. "Aaron," pressing her body eagerly against his. She held him tightly, hoping for more from him than he could ever promise. She kissed his mouth and face softly then pushed him gently away from her to look into his eager eyes. She smiled broadly at him, then laughed, wriggling from his grasp. "It's my turn to throw you out of bed. If we stay here much longer, we'll fry and in the most indiscreet spots, while I urgently have a hungry baby to tend to."
She threw on her dress, playfully kicking sand on Aaron as he lay watching her. Then she dashed for Coffee. "I'll race you home," she said gaily. "The one who wins can―" Suddenly she stopped her bargaining, looking at Aaron oddly, feeling her warmth disappear. A sense of déjàvu overcame her, remembering all of the similar challenges she'd made to Marshall and Andrew as they raced about their lives. It's an endless haunting, she thought. "Perhaps, ours can only be an unholy alliance, Aaron," she said, leaning from the saddle, reaching out her hand to him.
Oddly enough, Aaron seemed to recognize the source of her hesitation as he stood and took her hand, kissing her open palm. "Not entirely, Louisa, and not forever," he said softly, gazing up into the incredibly beautiful face framed by cascading golden hair.
Chapter Nineteen
By the time they returned to the compound, Louisa was in a turmoil. Aaron's terse explanation of his purposes told her only enough to cause her brain to explode with questions. It was doubtful he would take any more time this afternoon to answer her queries, for when they arrived at the house, he kissed her publicly and affectionately, then left her abruptly.
Carmen gave her a knowing smile when she greeted Louisa at the door, Rachel in her arms. "Señora, did your horse take a fall?" she said in mock concern. "Look at you. You're a sorry sight."
"Salt-water baths are good for the complexion, Carmen, and especially refreshing this time of the year. But right now, let me have Rachel. I rushed back here, for this very event," she said, snuggling her happy infant. "Then, I want a nice hot bath. And please help me with my clothes." Louisa went to Rachel's small room and set her in the heavy carved oak cradle.
"I will get your dressing gown, señora," Carmen said as she hurried down the hall to Aaron's room. "Señora, you will be interested," she said when she returned, "your wardrobe and other things have been moved. Also, the bed. You're all settled in his room."
"My, you've been busy, Carmen. Making all kinds of decisions, it seems," Louisa said pleasantly, yet with faint sarcasm. "Aren't you presuming too much? I know you see all, and probably know all, but leave a few things to me, if you please." Then she patted Carmen and gave her a hug. "But as usual, your intuition is right. Maybe you know my mind better than I." She paused, reflecting on her mixed feelings of the day. "I’d say you merely made a lucky guess this time, my friend."
Louisa discarded her damp sand-covered garments and slipped on a silk dressing gown. Her skin was uncomfortably coated with a residue of salt and sand, and she longed for a bath. Her hair was a mass of knots and tangles, sprinkled liberally with sand. "I look something like a drowned animal. I'm surprised you recognized me, Rachel," she cooed as she picked up the pretty infant who began to suckle eagerly, clearly undisturbed by her mother's dishevelment.
"Please, Carmen. I'll be ready for a bath the moment Rachel's finished." When left alone, Louisa relaxed with her baby who was, as Carmen predicted, faring extremely well. Louisa wondered at the beautiful child who nestled in her arms. "What lies ahead for us, little one? It seems our lives are not our own. It's nothing new for me, but you're starting early to be tossed about. I thought we might be safe here, but I was wrong. Perhaps one is never wholly secure from the world as long as one lives in it. What will become of us?"
Louisa rocked her body silently, a motion as soothing to her as it was to Rachel. In this act of nurturing her daughter, Louisa both gave and received. For Louisa, it was a healing process, remarkable because her wounds were so deep and fetid that it was a wonder any mending could take place at all. But Louisa willed it so. Surely she could right what had been for her a corrupted cycle of loving. Her suffering within the family circle: the broken promises, the perversion of trust and protection, had failed to break her. Perhaps endurance was penance for her participation, she thought, a cruel redemption, but she had endured, a sign from the universe that she could rise from these ashes as well.
Louisa held Rachel tenderly but fiercely, hoping she would again find a man to love her as deeply as she had loved Marshall, and as deeply as she now loved their baby. As she placed the contentedly sleeping baby into her cradle she prayed the hoped-for circle of love would enfold her, and she would feel whole again.
She slipped out of her dressing gown, then sank gratefully into the foaming hot water Carmen had prepared, relaxing down into the enormous claw-footed tub until only her face was not submerged, lying peacefully in the soothing scented water, her mind drifting pleasantly as she soaked away sand and salt and pain. She washed her hair and body, rinsing with cascades of lemon-scented water, then wrapped herself with a huge linen towel, winding it around herself, leisurely toweling her mass of hair, combing the tangles, sorting the golden threads. She entered her new room, which adjoined the bath, and sat on the carpet to dry her hair as the burning heat of the afternoon sun streaked through the window. Eventually, she stretched out on her stomach like a cat, her hair strewn over her back, fanning across the sun-drenched floor. On the thick soft carpet, Louisa was soon asleep, luxuriating in the heat, undisturbed by dreams.
When she opened her eyes again, she felt chilled, for the sun had receded from the window. Drugged from the nap, she rose slowly to close the draperies and prepared to dress for the evening. Carmen has arranged this room perfectly, she mused. All of my things, even my bed. All so easy. No need to return to my old room, and no desire to do so. The flesh is weak, isn't it, Louisa Boyd? From her collection of perfumes and oils, she chose a favorite lotion and began to smo
oth it freely on her body, noticing herself in the mirror. Her breasts were very full, contrasting with the slimness of her torso. Her flesh was reassuringly taut, the signs of pregnancy completely diminished. She knew all too well the burdens of being female, yet she rejoiced in her own beauty. For all of her sorrows, she was glad to be a woman, to be made as she was, to love as she did. She had long ago accepted her needs as rightful, accepted the responsibility for loving who and when she chose, with no regrets.
Louisa covered herself again with a dressing gown, and went to the door, opening it slightly. "Carmen, please help me with my hair," she called, and Carmen came to brush Louisa's thick mass of satin hair until it glistened, then arranged soft curls to Surround her face. She prepared to pin the rest against the back of Louisa's head, but Aaron startled them both as he came hurriedly into the room. He stopped short and looked at Louisa, then smiled broadly, pleased with her obvious nakedness beneath the dressing gown.
"Leave us alone, Carmen," he said in greeting.
Carmen looked at Louisa, seeming to question whether to finish pinning her hair but at the same moment letting it fall again.
"I see you're dressed for the evening," he said to her before Carmen could leave the room. He went to Louisa as she sat before her mirror and kissed the top of her head, gently pushing her dressing gown from her shoulders to reach for her breasts. She leaned against him as he stroked their fullness, taking his hands to show him the motion that gave her the deepest pleasure, watching his reflection in the mirror, enjoying the sensations his touch brought her. Soon she rose to face him, approaching him with more passion than he'd yet known from her, suddenly matching the intensity of his needs, burning with the same fire that seared his veins. Aaron felt her wet mouth on his, her fingers pressuring his body, tantalizing his senses beyond his control. Louisa opened her gown and let it fall from her. She took his hands to her mouth, slowly kissing each in turn, releasing them to her eager body, guiding them to the softest part of her, nearly unable to bear the pleasure his touching brought her. Her hands touched him as joyfully, rendering him up to her caresses, and they succumbed to each other, filling themselves to the fullest measure with the sweetness of uniting with tenderness mixed with passion and need.
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