by Jenna Kernan
“Enchantress,” he murmured, and reached the juncture of her legs.
His warm fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her bare inner thigh. She flinched.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
She did, even knowing all that would come, she sensed this man was different. This was Sam. He would not hurt her.
Kate relaxed against him.
“That’s right, let me touch you. Ahh—so sweet. Feel how wet you are.”
The callused tips of his fingers brushed her cleft. She gasped, tensed, but held still and open for him.
“Oh, sweet Lord,” he murmured.
His fingers now slid over her slick skin, the gliding friction bringing sparks of delight flaring within her. She gasped at the pleasure gleaned from so slight a movement. Her entire being seemed focused on this one small spot.
“That’s it, let me love you.”
Her eyes squeezed closed so she might more fully experience the tension rising within the center of her body.
His other hand toyed with her erect nipple, causing a sharp increase in her need. When had he undone her bodice?
She could no longer keep still. Her hips rose to meet his stroke and he slipped a finger into her passage. Her eyes flew open in surprise.
“Let me touch you, everywhere, I want to please you.”
His words assured her as his hands explored, delving in a familiar tempo that brought no pain at all. On the contrary, the feel of him sliding in and out, as his thumb drew over the sensitive peak of flesh between her legs, was the most erotic experience of her life. She wanted him to do this, wanted more.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered, and felt his shoulders relax.
His clever hand moved more quickly now as his mouth fixed to her neck.
“How I want to kiss you.” His words fanned hot across the wet skin at her throat.
But he was kissing her. She lifted her chin to offer her mouth and he chuckled and then dropped his head to kiss her lips.
He drove his fingers into her until she could only feel the wonderful building tension. She strained forward, bucking against his fingers and forcing him more deeply into her passage. His other hand slid from her breast to steady her hips. And then something broke loose inside her.
She arched as the cry tore from her throat at the wave of bliss that exploded out from the place where he touched her, rippling through her middle and down her legs to curl her toes.
The pleasure rolled on and on like fingers on piano keys, cascading up the ivory, to a crescendo.
One moment her body was arched tight as the bow of a violin and the next she collapsed against him. He dropped her skirts and drew her back, rocking her as he rested his cheek upon the top of her head.
She wanted to thank him, to ask him what he had done to her, but all she could do was gasp for air. She could not even lift her arms to stroke his cheek. It was as if he had robbed her of all her strength. So she closed her eyes, floating in blissful relaxation unlike any in her experience.
She felt his lips press to the shell of her ear as he alternated kisses and whispered endearments.
Time drifted and all the while he held her close as the train car hummed beneath them.
At last her breathing slowed, her muscles recovered and she eased up. His arms tightened, as if he would not let her go just yet. But he relented and she straightened.
She glanced down at her skirts, still in disarray. Her legs lay exposed for all to see. She drew her hem down past her ankles.
She stared up at him, gaped really, taking no offense from his satisfied smile.
“Where did you learn to do that?” The instant the question sprang from her lips, she regretted it and blushed furiously.
He laughed. “Well, a gentleman never tells, but I’ve never been one of those, so I’ll just say that I’ve been blessed with some extraordinary teachers.”
She could not repress the flash of jealousy and so veiled her eyes, wondering if it was fast enough to keep him from seeing her possessiveness. It was an emotion a mistress could never afford.
She had been with a man, and he seemed unruffled by it. So why should the thought of him doing this to some other woman fill her with violent intentions?
“I’ve never…” She didn’t know where to begin.
He chuckled. “Something, isn’t it? That’s what a man can give a woman.”
She already knew how a man found his pleasure, but she had never suspected she was capable of experiencing her own. Suddenly, she understood why her husband had been after her all the time. If he felt one-tenth the power of her fulfillment, it was understandable.
He took her hand. “It should never hurt you, Katherine, the loving.”
She met his gaze, seeing the sincerity reflected in his eyes.
“If it did, then your man was a damned fool or a sadistic son of a bitch.”
She cringed at his strong language and he clamped his lips shut. They had drifted into dangerous waters and so she steered them away from the shoals.
“May I have a little wine, please, Sam? My throat’s gone dry.”
She used his name, knowing he liked that.
He gave a half grin, as if he knew what she was up to, nodded and turned to the bar.
“Glad to,” he said, his hungry eyes upon her again. “But we ain’t done yet.”
Chapter Nine
K ate clasped the delicate stem of the glass, casting glances at Sam. He had settled in one of the chairs across from her with his whiskey but, unlike Luke, he seemed more interested in spinning the amber liquid about in the fine crystal than drinking it.
Sam caught her eye and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees in a casual attitude. She had managed to button her bodice and replace her gloves when he was busy retrieving her beverage. But Sam had cast off his jacket, released his tie and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt.
She looked out the window as she sipped her wine, avoiding the crackling tension building between them once more. What would it be like with Sam? She did not know but was certain it would be nothing like what she had suffered with her husband.
“Why’d you marry him?” asked Sam.
She looked him straight in the eye and said, “For the money.”
Sam looked a little sick. “Did you love him?”
“No.” She drew a breath to relieve the emotions that swirled like a dust storm inside her. “I did it to protect my sister. Perhaps it is impossible for a man like you to understand what one will do to survive.”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw grew tight. He folded his arms across his chest and gave her such a look of condemnation she said no more. What had ever possessed her to tell him this much?
“I wasn’t born with a bag of gold, you know?”
Kate gave a cautious nod.
“You might be surprised at what I understand about survival, Kate.”
It was hard to imagine Sam in a situation he couldn’t handle, one in which he was forced to do something that shamed him. She tried but failed. He was so strong, so confident. He met her silent regard and some of the stiffness eased from his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Sam, if you suffered hardships. It was wrong of me to assume your life has been easy.” She waited for him to elaborate, but instead he turned the conversation back upon her.
“So you’d lost your mother. What about your father?”
Her heart ached whenever she thought back to that hopeless time. She pressed her eyes shut for a moment and then met his steady gaze. “My father had died at sea when I was quite young. A little over a year ago, my mother got brain fever. They took her and I had to sell everything for her care. Luke helped me sell our house.”
“I’ll just bet he did.”
“I didn’t know then, what he did, about the fraud. And so I married him. But not just for me. You see? For Phoebe. I was afraid they would take her to…” Her words trail off.
“And you didn’t know your aunt?”
“So, you sold yourself.”
And she had just done so again for nearly identical reasons, but did not say it out loud.
He stared silently at her and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
“Your sister is lucky to have you.”
More like cursed, Kate thought. Guilt gnawed at her like termites in fresh wood. From the outside she looked whole, but inside she was crumbling.
He pinned her with dark, mysterious eyes. Who was this stranger and what secrets did he keep buried in his heart?
He clasped her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her gloved knuckles.
“I guess I understand why you’ve done it better than most. And I don’t blame you.”
He didn’t? Why?
His thumb stroked the top of her hand. She laid her other hand on his, sandwiching it between her own. “Sam, do you have any family?”
“No longer. But I had a little brother, once.”
Kate blinked in surprise. The way he said it made her certain something terrible had happened. His expression did not reassure. Why did such dreadful things happen to children—like Phoebe? What had happened to Sam’s brother? She inched forward, unable to keep herself at a proper distance.
“Tell me,” she whispered, bracing for whatever horror he might reveal.
“This ’cause you want to know or ’cause you want to buy some time?”
Kate had a clear conscience and so answered honestly. “I’d like to know something about you. It would make this easier for me if I felt I knew you a little.”
“Believe me, Kate, you don’t want to hear this.” He rose and replaced his untouched whiskey on the bar, then returned to sit beside her on the sofa.
She stared him straight in the eye. “Now who is looking for a diversion?”
Sam couldn’t help but smile at the cold conviction of her expression. The hellion from the alley had returned. He recalled the grit she had shown. He added that to the lengths she had gone to to keep her little sister safe and entertained the possibility that Kate might have the spine to hear this without pity or disgust.
“Things about my past are private. I don’t want folks blabbing about my business.”
A little line formed between her eyes as she frowned at this answer. “Earlier, you asked for my trust, a thing that must be earned. But I find that I do trust you, Sam. Are you willing to give what you have requested? Will you also trust me?”
“Your gender ain’t known for keeping secrets.”
“I think I might surprise you.”
He gazed at her speculatively. “You already have.”
“Have I?”
“First in the alley and now today. Never expected you to leave off those bloomers.”
She smiled in a way that heated his blood. “All right, then.”
Sam wished he hadn’t set aside the whiskey. He wasn’t ready to tell her that he and his brother likely had two different fathers or that each one of them was an unwelcome surprise. He couldn’t say he was the son of a whore.
“He was five and I was twelve when my mom brought us to Our Lady of Sorrow.” He didn’t say that he’d tried to run away and his mother had brought him back to the nuns. “An orphanage in St. Louis.”
Her eyes rounded and it was clear she feared the worse. He’d never spoken about Randy to anyone.
“She was sick. Spitting up blood.”
Kate looked truly horrified so he hurried to tell her the rest.
“Told you, you won’t want to hear it.”
Kate swallowed. “But I do.”
He pressed his lips tight and drew a lungful of air before continuing on. “Not long after that, they took him. A family wanted him. He was adopted, you see?”
She went pale. “They separated you?”
He dropped his head in shame—the one not chosen, the one left behind.
“They only wanted a little boy and I was half-grown.”
Her voice was so earnest, so pure. “But to separate you, that was wrong.”
He’d always thought so. It felt good to hear someone else say it. “Now you know me better than anyone, ’cause I never told that to a soul.”
She graced him with a gentle smile that warmed him like sunshine.
“Have you tried to find him?” she asked.
Sam had and the rejection still cut deep. “He belongs to them now, to the other family that took him.”
“But perhaps he wishes to know what became of you. He’d be so proud.”
Sam’s head lifted. “You think so?”
“Oh, yes. Look how well you’ve done. What is his name?”
“It’s Randy, unless they changed it.”
“You should find Randy, Sam. Make sure he is well and happy.”
“Now you,” he said, leaning forward, slightly anxious.
“Now me, what?” she asked.
“Tell me something you never told nobody else.”
“I already have.”
“’Bout your husband?”
She nodded, making a little humming sound of affirmation in her throat. “Not even my family knows how it was with me. I was too ashamed to tell them because it seemed my fault. I believed him, the things he said about me.”
Sam wanted to take her now, prove that there was nothing wrong with her and that loving him could be a joy, instead of a burden. But he could see she was still reluctant. He sighed in the awkward silence.
“That dress is real pretty with your eyes.”
She lowered them immediately, robbing him of the lovely vivid green. “I’m glad you approve. I bought several different ones. Would you like to pick out what I wear or shall I?”
That flummoxed him. Had her husband…“Did he tell you what to wear?”
She kept her chin tucked to her chest and nodded.
“Then you pick. Definitely.”
She smiled and peeked up at him. Was that approval he saw shining in her eyes? Suddenly that was more important than the burning desire he had for her.
“You hungry?”
She beamed at him and he felt the warm touch of gladness. He could wait. He’d be patient and let her get accustomed to him a little. Maybe give her pleasure again before he took his own.
He could see that they’d left the city and were climbing steadily into the narrow hills. They’d be in Dutch Flats in about two hours. What was he gonna do with her if he couldn’t…
He got up and filled a plate of fruit and cheese. Get to know him, she had said. God help him.
Sam sat across from Kate in one of the lounge chairs. Between them was the tray of food. Cheese and bread, mostly, with some sliced ham and lots of fruit, peeled and cut into little bitty bites.
Kate didn’t have much of an appetite, that was certain, though she did have an elegant way of eating that Sam appreciated. She set aside her gloves, for one thing, and he found her hands graceful as a bird in flight. He enjoyed watching her until she got to the fruit on her plate. Then the contentment faded and he started to think more steadily of bedding her.
“How old would he be now?” she asked, then daintily lifted a strawberry and brought it to her red lips, confirming that they were the same color. When he didn’t answer, she paused, ripe strawberry speared on a fork, held just before her full lower lip.
What had she asked him again?
“Randy, I mean,” she said.
Sam blinked, recalling himself. Maybe he’d best stare over her head. Damn, he was burning for her.
“Twenty-two.”
“He might still need you.”
He said nothing as his mood soured.
His plan to stare over her head failed as he could not keep his eyes off her. The strawberry disappeared behind strong, white teeth.
“Having a family is such a precious gift,” she said.
This was exactly why he di
dn’t generally talk to women. They had crazy ideas, like family being a gift. “A curse you mean. You should know. You lost most of yours, too.” He sat back looking at her hair, which was reflected in the mirror behind the sofa. How many pins were there holding up that mass of auburn? How long was it? He already knew how it smelled, but was itching to see it shimmering down her back.
“I have my aunt and my sister. And they mean the world to me.”
“I used to think like you—that the most important thing was to keep us together, just like you’re trying to do now.”
She seemed surprised by this comment. Did she think he didn’t know why she’d changed her mind? Kate hadn’t been with a man in a year and then slammed the door in his face. He wasn’t vain enough to believe she’d just suddenly fallen for him. She appeared to be a practical woman, despite her beauty, or perhaps because of it.
Sam continued. “Staying together ain’t what’s most important. In the end you do what’s best for them.” He wanted to make her understand. “Best for them, you see? Not for yourself.”
“But staying together is what’s best.”
Sam snorted. “Randy don’t want to see me.” He stood and headed for the bar, determined to recover his glass of whiskey. He’d made a play at acting with civility. It pinched more than this damn banded collar of his new shirt. But if he was going to talk about Randy, he could at least have this small comfort. But halfway there he smelled lavender and changed direction, sitting beside her on the couch. What would she do if he tried to feed her those morsels? He wanted to. He’d already picked out the best from the platter for her.
She faced him. “How could you know that? He might be longing for news of you.”
He couldn’t keep the pain from showing and he could tell by the widening of her eyes that she noted it. He glanced to the window and watched tall ponderosa pines fly by in a blur. “I know because I did find him, after I figured out where the records were kept and how to get the keys. We’d been apart more than a year when I ran away from the orphanage. Hardly recognized him. He’d gained weight and was wearing fancy clothes. But he recognized me right off.”
“Where did you find him?”
“Leaving his school, nice white schoolhouse with green shutters and a play yard with a teeter-totter and a rope swing. He spotted me and his eyes got real big. But instead of running to me, like I pictured, he started backing up like you do when you suddenly come upon a big, mean dog.”
