When Aaron contemplated Louisa and Marguerite, he alternately smiled and shook his head, or frowned. And when he reflected on his pending liaison with Mrs. Hill, he occasionally considered the probable duration of Louisa's fidelity to him. At first he immediately dismissed the notion that Louisa would betray him in another man's bed. He did so, more out of high regard for his own prowess than from confidence as a man of her equal. And gradually his doubts ate their way to the front of his mind.
A few times the questions surfaced in their bed, where―for now―there was no need to fear Louisa had any inclination to move on. She was hungry and he gratified her as no one ever had. He knew it, because she told him so.
And yet―and yet she had come to him very easily, something for which he did not condemn her. But she could just as easily turn away from him, couldn't she? When this game they played was over, when the excitement was up, the high of living on the edge of discovery gone―what then? He would again be the low-caste pirate, though his crimes would have been erased from official record, if promises were kept. And Louisa would still be a woman of wealth and education. Wouldn't she then be wanting a man of her own class and temperament; a man who could be a suitable father to her probably high-born child? Wouldn't she prefer a man with wealth and social position, comfortable in refined society, not merely an actor playing a role in which he preferred not to be cast? Aaron's was only an act on a stage where he would never be comfortable. If he had a choice, he would instantly cease his performance and resume a life similar, if not identical, to the one from which he was so abruptly torn. While sometimes he enjoyed the ease and comforts of this new life, he often grew restless for his independence and the freedom to choose his own kind of pleasures. He identified with Marguerite's boredom with the life she led. He felt it would be good for him to get better acquainted with a woman who wanted nothing more than to be entertained, a woman who cared nothing for the permanence of a relationship, and who had no hold whatever on his emotions.
But before he was finished with his thoughts he heard Louisa's voice calling softly across his schemes. She wound her arms around him, pulling herself against his back while he lay on his side, his face turned away from her. "Marshall," she whispered coquettishly in the dawn, her hands gently stroking his chest, moving swiftly down his firm, lean belly to caress and excite him. "Wake up and make love to me," she urged, aware of her success in arousing him, and quickly he turned on her, only too happy to fulfill her request. He found her refreshed and vigorous after sleep, and for the moment he could not recall any desire to be anywhere but tangled helplessly in her talons, willing prey to her kind of torture. He knew it would be a very long time, if ever, before he would be free of her.
Chapter Fifty-one
THE day that had begun so early was a day filled with surprises and pleasure. Recent days and nights had been hectic, but this one would be leisurely and private. When they rose, they discovered the beautiful clear mornings they'd enjoyed since their arrival were over, that those days came infrequently and they had been lucky to enjoy so much sun. This morning the trees outside their windows were thick with mist, which might have promised a day shrouded in log, but Easton, in warning the days had been especially beautiful in honor of Louisa's arrival, had also promised the fog would bum off by noon, this time of year. "Oh, I hope so!" cried Louisa.
"What's that?" inquired Aaron since her remarks were not prefaced by any other statement.
"I hope William is right about the weather," she replied, turning from the French doors. "He promises the sun will appear in spite of what hangs outside our windows right now. Wouldn't you know, the day we at last have to ourselves, the sun would disappear!" she said unhappily.
"We'll just slip off into the fog and no one will ever know we've gone," he suggested cheerfully. "We can do whatever we had in mind just as well in the dark as in the light," he added, grinning.
"Is that right?" Louisa asked, pretending uncertainty.
They'd arranged an excursion into the countryside on their own. The Melvilles were being entertained by local friends for the day, and both Easton and Carson were looking forward to a restful break in the last weeks' frantic pace. "Samuel and Loo Kim will have arranged everything by now. Let's not keep them waiting."
"Ready," she laughed, snuggling into her cape. "It would have to be pouring rain to keep me here!"
As ordered, their horses and an elaborate picnic lunch were waiting for them downstairs. Samuel waved them off into the mist, and soon they rode along some of the same trails Easton had showed them, then entered areas that seemed never to have been violated by man, finally, about noon, reaching a high meadow at the edge of a thick stand of trees.
Just as they had been promised, the sky had become clear and the air wonderfully warm, and their cloaks had been discarded long before. During the last hour they had traveled along the banks of a narrow stream which now converged into a sunlit pond, its green crystal depth inviting in the heat of the sun. They felt as if they were alone in the world, perhaps the only ones in the universe. The horses slowed their pace, seeming to have reached a familiar resting place. Aaron and Louisa were in wordless agreement, and soon dismounted, strolling arm in arm along the granite edges of the pond, then sitting down, perched above the inviting water. When Louisa began to braid her hair on one side of her head, Aaron put his hands into the remainder and gently braided the soft warm strands, tying the pigtails with ribbons from her petticoat. He couldn't help but smile when the pigtails were hanging heavily against her back, recalling the child whose hair he'd pulled playfully long ago, the child whose beautiful young face he could see even now. "Oh, God, I love you," he said silently, kissing her mouth, touching her warm fragrant body with urgent caresses. She seemed bound to every good memory he could summon, in the echo of every joy he could recall.
Soon they were lying in the sweet, soft meadow grass, among the sun-loving wild flowers, overcome with the joyousness of being one again. Aaron felt his body reverberate with unspoken love, his seed thundering into her, and Louisa heard, and her soul echoed the same silent words. Afterward he held her with a fierceness she knew only too well. She had clung to Marshall that way many times when their hours together were numbered. And though Aaron still had said nothing to her, nor made promises he couldn't keep, Louisa knew he loved her. Yet she was afraid―afraid to trust her instincts, afraid of his silence. Does he love me? she questioned. Or did she only imagine it because her need for him to do so was so deep, and she was so in want of love? And even in the warmth of his embrace, Louisa felt cold and lonely.
Then she relinquished her fears and held him fast, taking what she knew was given, even if it was offered in silence, giving herself freely. "I love you," she said against him softly, and she felt his body shudder almost imperceptibly. "I cannot help myself. I love you, Aaron―and I know you love me." And in response he held her even more tightly, kissing her, calling her name as if, even while he held her, she were a memory from a dream.
When he released her, they lay happily side by side, petting and stroking, and teasing each other with blades of grass, wrestling and enjoying the beautiful day. He tied her pigtails in knots, as he'd done years before, and chased her into the ice-cold pond as she screamed, to capture her struggling and breathless from laughter and cold. They swam and played as freely and happily as children, drying themselves stretched out on the sun-baked rocks, talking of nothing and everything, embracing finally with gentleness and love.
The afternoon was idyllic, the scenery breathtaking, the escape from Crane's Nest satisfying, their pleasure profound. They dressed and ate their lunch in the cooling shade of willow trees, and when they were silent, the meadow grew restive and they watched a small parade of wildlife. A family of deer wandered within a few feet of them, alert and interested in their presence, staring mutely with their sad pensive eyes. The smaller creatures were more brazen, approaching them openly for samples of their picnic.
"It makes me think of h
ome―when we were children. Do you remember, Aaron?"
"I remember the little girl who couldn't kill a frog. But she had a fondness for lighting fires..."
"Something I've outgrown."
"I hope so."
"What do you mean, Aaron, you hope so?" she frowned at him.
"Nothing, really. Yet fire seems to haunt you, doesn't it?"
"I've given up ghosts, or don't you remember?"
"Even in your bed?" his voice now mildly sarcastic.
"Especially in my bed!" Louisa was puzzled by his questions and attitude. She felt as if he were reprimanding her, and she turned away from him to look out over the beautiful meadow, hoping the mood would change. Several minutes passed, and Louisa relaxed again, and when Aaron moved next to her, she nestled comfortably in his arms.
"We'd best get on our way, if we want to get back before dark," he cautioned.
"I'd just as soon not ever go back."
Aaron smiled at her. "And what would you rather do? Live in the forest like an Indian?"
"Perhaps."
"You'd never make it. A few days, maybe a week, and you'd be begging for the comforts of Crane's Nest. Louisa among the wild creatures," he laughed, "the game would be very short."
Louisa was annoyed by his low estimate of her stamina, and by the sarcasm edging his voice. "You're, probably right," she stiffened against him, "but I'm faring very well in the games we're playing at Easton's. I'm no weakling, Aaron, you needn't sneer at me. What's wrong?" She sat up and looked directly into his mocking face, watching his deep black eyes stare into hers. In reply, Aaron grabbed her and held her tightly and close, but far enough away from him to watch doubt and tension spread across her beautiful face. He seemed to want to speak to her, but instead he kissed her almost violently. She wanted to struggle against his fierceness, but his desire for her overtook them both.
"I thought we had to be on our way if we wanted to get home ..." she suggested lamely amid his kisses, tom between her emotion to resist his insulting attitude and her need to submit to her undeniable passion for him.
But he only continued to caress her, his approach now kind, his gestures loving. Then unexpectedly he slowed his pursuit, interrupting those delicious feelings he encouraged. He lay with her, continuing to touch yet backing off from his passion, seeming ill at ease, undecided. "Tomorrow I'm leaving Crane's Nest for a few days," he began, putting his hand quickly but gently over her mouth when she started to protest, kissing her again as soon as he lifted his hand from her lips. "I'm running an errand for Melville. Making sure 'our' interests are seen to in negotiations with Indians they suspect will be happy to distract the federal troops from 'our' other activities."
"Why can't I go with you?"
"It'll be a rugged trip into rough country."
"That's the reason for your earlier remarks? To convince yourself I couldn't make the trip, and you could leave me behind without a whimper?" Her eyes flashed at him, but her lips trembled at the prospect of remaining alone at Easton's. "Aaron, I'm not going to stay here without you!"
"You've no choice. The trip isn't one a lady the likes of you would be welcome on. It's strictly business; for men only."
She squirmed under him, unable to free herself, then sighed resignedly. "Why didn't you give me more warning? I could've used more time to consider your absence."
"I wasn't informed myself until late last night, and, as I recall, you weren't in the mood to discuss much when we were finally alone," he smiled.
She smiled back at him softly, touching his handsome face, running her fingers into his thick black hair, drawing his mouth to hers. "I'm going to miss you so," she whispered. "How long will you be gone?"
"A couple of weeks―four at the most."
"That's considerably more than a few days,'' she protested.
"You won't even know I'm gone."
"I won't? You underestimate yourself," she teased. "But perhaps I should take you at your word, and since you say I won't miss you―and you, therefore, won't miss me―you can get off me and we'll be on our way home!"
"Not so fast. You misunderstood. I've no plans to go home. Not quite yet, Louisa." And eagerly but leisurely, they finished what they had begun.
Chapter Fifty-two
HE woke suddenly in their bed, listening alertly in the deep black of the night, hearing what sounded like an animal whimpering and then crying out softly. He lay quietly, then turned to her, lifting her into his arms. "Louisa, Louisa. Don't cry. It's all right, you're dreaming. Wake up now."
But still she cried, even as she came from sleep. "Marshall, please don't leave me. Don't leave me."
"Shhh," he said softly, cuddling her against him. "It was a dream," he said just as he had years ago. "I'm here beside you. You're safe now, love."
She breathed in deeply, shuddering against him. "I dreamed you were leaving me, Marshall, and we would never see each other again," she said, not fully awake.
Aaron held her tightly. "Louisa, it's me, Aaron. We're in Monterey, remember?" he said quietly, stroking her, trying to soothe away her sadness.
Suddenly she was very still, seeming to think over his words carefully. Then she relaxed slowly in his embrace. "Yes, I remember," she murmured.
He kissed her in the darkness. "I'm the one leaving you today. But I won't be gone long. How could I stay away from you?" He kissed her again, filling himself as fully as possible with the sensations of being close to her. There was no light in the room, no moon to illuminate their joy. "They say, if one is blind, other senses are sharpened. If I were blind, Louisa, I'd want my sense of touch to be more acute," he sighed as he caressed her satin-smooth body, moving his hands gently into her hair, petting and arousing her, making her forget her dreams and her terror. "You're so wonderful," he gasped as he entered her; holding her eager body tightly to him, restraining her motion until he could regain some composure.
"I love you, Aaron. And I love the way you make me feel," she said joyfully, trying to ignore the fierce hold he had on her.
"You'd better be still, or this will be a very short joust," he laughed, struggling with her and with himself.
"Mmmm," she said, kissing him aggressively, lying none too quietly in his arms. "Let me go!" she demanded, and it wasn't long before his pleasure filled them both. "I'm going to miss you! Oh, am I going to miss you!" she giggled.
"It's good to be appreciated," he grinned, "but I won't ask what it is about me you'll miss most!―You're making it damned hard to leave here, you know," he added almost harshly.
"If it were light, you could see me smile," she whispered, kissing him. "I've no desire to have you go cheerfully." And it wasn't long before they came together again.
Not much later Louisa felt Aaron's hands on her, shaking her gently. "Wake up, Louisa. I'm leaving now."
She opened her eyes to dim lamplight, and saw that Aaron was fully dressed and ready for traveling. It was not yet light, but he and his companions were all set to depart. He looked especially wonderful to her, his dark skin, the blackness of his hair and eyes contrasting with the fawn-colored leather coat and leggings he wore. She stared at him sleepily, thinking his look seemed loving, and Aaron brought her gently into his arms and held her. "Try not to get too embroiled in the goings-on here while I'm gone. You're safer if you keep out of it. I'm the agent, you're here to amuse. Don't risk yourself. Remember that baby of yours needs her mother to come home to her one day." To Louisa's ears, his words sounded incredibly gentle, and he kissed her with as much caring and feeling as she could recall.
"I love you, Aaron. I'll miss you so! Whatever am I going to do at this place without you?"
"You'll find something," he said, giving her one last loving touch, then leaving her to stare after him.
A few minutes later, Louisa rose from the bed, quickly covered herself with a heavy, concealing robe, and ran down the stairs after him, dashing through the front doors. The men and horses stood in the torchlit darkness, momentarily startled
as she burst outdoors. She stopped short. "I wanted to see you leave," she said apologetically.
Aaron grinned at her childish, charmingly tousled appearance. "You were almost too late," he said, gesturing to the others who mounted their horses in response. She threw her arms around him. "Good-bye, beautiful," he whispered, catching her fiercely.
"Good-bye, Marshall, my love," was her nearly inaudible reply. And she stood several minutes watching them quickly disappear into the now faint light. She stared after them for what seemed a long while, then re-entered the house to wander distractedly about the downstairs rooms, not wanting to go back to her empty bed where she dared not dwell on the weeks ahead without Aaron to confide in. Nor did she want to consider the time she would have to long for him and not have him lying next to her, ready to offer consolation.
But eventually Louisa climbed the long stairway to their room, and lay on their now cold bed, finding it difficult to get warm again. This was that time of day she struggled with most, but the thoughts that surfaced would not have been easy at any time. And they were especially troubling now. "I'm certain he loves me," she concluded, and for the time being she was resolute and secure.
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