Chapter Fourteen
Some nights, like tonight, Thad got hard just touching Leah’s skin. He wanted to hold her against his body and kiss her until his brain shut out all those thoughts about being sensible. About being fair to her.
This was sure as hell one of those nights, because he could scarcely keep from rolling her over into his arms. He so wanted to make her his.
He couldn’t let himself think about it. But with a groan of frustration he realized he couldn’t not think about it. About her—this woman who had moved into his house and into his life.
He had to admit Leah was moving into his heart, and he was beginning to be terrified in a way he only half understood.
He had loved Hattie. When she died his life had stopped, but now he was starting to feel alive again. He felt something for Leah—in fact, he felt a great deal for her. And deep down it scared him. If he let himself love Leah and then lost her, he would never recover.
But.
He could hear her breathing softly beside him. “Leah?” he whispered. His voice came out harsher than he’d planned.
She brought her small, capable hand to his bare chest. “Yes, Thad?”
Desire flooded him, made him ache. “Leah, I want—I want to make love to you.”
She laughed softly. “Yes, I want it, too.” Then she pressed her lips to his shoulder.
He lifted her chin and caught her mouth under his. Kissing her was like tasting something cool and soft and finding a blaze beneath the surface. He hadn’t expected it to feel this different; was it because he was different?
She parted her lips and he slid his tongue between them. A little moan escaped her, but he couldn’t stop tasting her. She was so sweet and hot he suddenly wanted to weep.
A voice in the back of his mind yammered for him to stop, but he couldn’t. Not now. There was only Leah and him, and he wanted all of her. Now. His hunger and his need were making him crazy, and when she moved in his arms he knew he was lost.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“I do want this,” she murmured. “I have wanted this for a long time, Thad. I have waited for it.” She brushed her lips against his throat. “I am glad it is happening now.”
His groan was muffled in the lemony scent of her hair. He skimmed one hand up under her silk night robe and found her breast, small and firm as a melon. Gently he ran his fingers over the nipple, stroking the soft flesh until it hardened into a peak.
Then, slowly and deliberately, he moved his hand below her waist into the soft hair between her thighs. He parted her legs and stroked his finger over her entrance. She was wet and hot. Oh, heavens above, he couldn’t stop. He would explode if he didn’t take her.
Gently, he pressed one finger into her soft, moist heat. She sucked air in between her teeth and he heard her voice.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes.”
He withdrew, then touched her again, deeper. And then he went still deeper, until he met a slight resistance.
She made a small moan of pleasure and arched to meet his hand. Oh, he knew he’d long since passed the point of stopping.
She murmured his name against his lips and smoothed her small hands over his skin, caressing him all the way down to his engorged member. His body decided for him; he couldn’t go back now.
Willing himself to go slowly, he rose above her, positioned himself and entered her as gently as he could. She gasped when he pushed past her maidenhead, and then she was moving with him, murmuring his name. Her breathing grew erratic and soon she was panting, as he was.
“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.
“No. No. It is wonderful. Beautiful.” She tightened her arms around him with a strength that surprised him.
All at once she cried out and he felt her inner muscles pulse around him. With a shout he came to his own climax.
He clung to her through spasms that bore him up to heaven and held him in a net of stars. The unexpected feeling that flooded him was so intense, so rich, so…humbling, it scarcely seemed real.
Nothing, nothing in his entire life, had ever been like this.
He waited until their breathing calmed, then rolled onto his side, taking her with him. May God forgive him, he would never forget this night.
“Thad?” Her voice trembled. “Is it always like this?”
He opened his mouth, but was unable to speak for a good half minute. “No. It’s never been like this.”
“I am glad,” she whispered. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his shoulder. Thad lay still, holding her until her breathing evened out and he knew she was asleep.
His eyes stung, then filled with moisture. God had given him an irreplaceable gift.
And, dammit, it scared the stuffing out of him.
Thad dabbed his biscuit into the remaining egg yolk on his breakfast plate. “Forgot to tell you something last night.”
At the stove frying eggs for Teddy’s breakfast, Leah stilled. A warm blush swept up her neck. Thad had said everything last night, but it hadn’t been in words. Her heart still had not stopped its hiccuping rhythm.
“What did you forget to tell me?”
“About the barn dance next Saturday. I stopped in at Verena’s shop yesterday when I was in town. She reminded me.”
“Verena?”
“Verena Forester. You know, The dressmaker.”
Oh, yes, Leah knew Verena Forester. The woman was noticeably cool every time Leah stopped in for a pattern or a bit of lace. The dressmaker always asked about Thad—how was he? What was he planting this year? She made it very plain that Thad claimed a special place in her heart.
Last week, Leah’s friend Ellie had taken her to tea and told her why. Verena had wanted to marry Thad after his wife died, and that explained at least some of the dressmaker’s rude treatment of her. The rest of it, she knew, was because of her Chinese heritage.
She slid a plate of fried eggs and biscuits in front of Teddy and joined them at the breakfast table. Thad reached over and snagged one of the biscuits from Teddy’s plate.
“The dance will be out at the Jensen place. We’ll take the wagon.”
Teddy hung his head over his plate. “Pa, do I hafta dance with a girl?”
“Sure you do, son. Girls are nice.” He sent Leah a secret look, and then jerked upright. Girls were nice! And Leah…well, Leah was more than nice. All at once he couldn’t breathe.
“Aw, Pa, I don’t like girls. At school they all tease me. All ’cept Manette Nicolet, and she’s only five.”
“Tease you about what?”
Teddy studied his half-buttered biscuit. “About, um, about Leah.”
Two forks clattered onto china plates. Leah stared at the boy. “What do they say?” Thad demanded. His voice was barely under control.
Teddy’s gaze moved back and forth from the flour-sack tablecloth to the butter dish. “They say all kinds of stuff, Pa. About how Leah don’t belong here, an’ she’s too pretty to be…to be…They say she’s prob’ly a—”
“Teddy!” Thad raised his hand. Leah knew what he was about to say. “They say I must be a bad woman because I am Chinese,” she finished.
Teddy’s head drooped even lower. “’Cept they don’t say ‘Chinese.’ They say ‘filthy Chink.’”
Ice water flooded Leah’s veins. Thad’s fist smacked the table so hard the sugar bowl jumped. “Do they, now?” he roared.
“Yeah. I punched Edith Ness on the nose, an’ Miz Johnson whaled us both good. My rear end was sore for a whole day.”
“And?” his father asked, his voice suddenly quiet.
“And now Edith an’ her sister Noralee won’t speak to me.”
Leah sat rooted to her chair, torn between anger on Teddy’s behalf and humiliation at being called a—Well, she need not think of that. The cruel slur cut deep. She wanted to cry, but at the same time a small part of her wanted to laugh over Teddy’s girl problem.
Thad’s russet eyebrow
s lowered. “Will Edith Ness be at the dance?”
“I s’pose so, Pa. Mr. Ness is gonna supply the apples for bobbing.”
Leah laid her hand on Thad’s forearm. “Do not make an issue of it. I have been called names before.”
Frown lines creased his forehead. “I won’t have it,” he said heavily. “Not as long as you’re my wife.”
Leah’s cheeks grew hot and she looked down into her lap. Oh, no. Already she could see him bloodied and battered after some fight on her behalf.
She stood up abruptly. “I—I am going out to feed the chickens.”
“Again?” Thad gave her an odd look. “You fed them once already this morning. Don’t you remember?”
Oh, yes, she remembered. She had purposely crawled out of bed before the sun was up, tossed a handful of grain into the yard for the hens and then clambered back under the covers next to Thad. What had happened after that she would never forget.
She could not help smiling. But she noticed Thad was staring intently out the window. And not smiling.
Teddy hung around all that day while Leah baked bread and made apple pies and scoured out the butter churn. For a while she thought the boy was hoping for a sweet snack, but he refused the bread and strawberry jam she offered, and he even turned up his nose at a slice of fresh apple pie.
Something was wrong. Finally, late in the afternoon, he sidled up to her while she was rolling out another piecrust.
“Leah? Kin I ask you somethin’?”
“You can ask me anything, Teddy. What is it?”
“Remember when you showed me how to run fast? Like you learned in China? Well, I was wonderin’…Do you know anything about, well, about fighting?”
“Isn’t your father teaching you how to box?”
“Yeah, but he keeps talkin’ about playing fair and not hittin’ below the—you know.”
Leah propped her floury hands on her hips. “And you want some tricks, is that it?”
“Yep.” His grin told her everything.
“And you think I know about these tricks, do you?”
“Yep. You told me about the bullies chasin’ you back in China. I bet you were good at gettin’ away from ’em, huh?”
Leah had to laugh. she had been very good at defending herself, she acknowledged. The proof was that she was alive, she was here and she was whole in body and spirit.
“Yes, I could defend myself, Teddy. An old shopkeeper in our town took me aside one day and taught me some things.”
“Show me,” the boy said. Then he quickly added, “Please.”
Very well, she would show him some of the tricks old Chen had taught her. “Ways young miss can fight,” he had said.
Right there in the kitchen she demonstrated how to step in close to an opponent, slip her foot around behind his legs and tip him over backward.
“Wow, that’s real smart!” Teddy crowed. “Show me some more.”
“Well, there’s a way to let someone try to punch you, and use momentum to pull him off balance.”
“What’s momtum?”
“Force. You use the force of the blow that is aimed at you to your advantage. That way, you can pull someone to the ground without getting hit. Like this.” She demonstrated with a feigned punch at Teddy, and when he punched back, she caught his arm and tugged him over.
“Hey, that’s pretty keen!” He practiced a few “pulls” on his own and then turned to Leah. “D’ya know any more tricks?”
“The most important thing about fighting is not a trick, Teddy. Shall I tell you?”
“Yeah, tell me!”
She knelt before him and looked straight into his clear blue eyes. “The most important thing to remember is—” What am I doing? Teaching Thad’s son to cheat?
Yes, I most certainly am.
“Well, as I was saying, the most important thing is this—don’t ever let them know you’re scared.”
Moonlight flooded the road to the Jensen place. The night air was crisp and so clear Leah could see the lights from town. Thad pulled up close to the entrance, and she and Teddy scrambled off the bench and waited while he drove off to park the wagon and see to the horse.
The barn was lit up with Indian lanterns—candles stuck in punched-out tin cans filled with wet sand. By the time they reached the double plank door, Leah’s hands were icy and the inside of her nose burned when she drew breath.
Thad caught up to them, slapping his leather gloves together. “Let’s go on in. It’s cold out here.”
Teddy hung back. “Pa, do I hafta?” With each syllable, white vapor puffed out of his mouth.
“No, you don’t have to, son. But it’s the manly thing to do. Besides, it’s warm inside and out here it’s colder than a witch’s—uh, colder than snow. It’s your choice.”
The boy shivered, then resolutely marched into the barn after his father.
Music rose from one corner, where an old man with a long, curly beard sawed away on a fiddle tucked under his scrawny chin. Two younger men strummed banjos, accompanied by a thumping washtub bass; the town barber, Whitey Poletti, plucked the strings as if he were snipping off hanks of hair.
Leah listened to the din with astonishment. Such noise! Worse than the riotous New Year festivals in China, with belching dragons and firecrackers and cymbals. The screechy fiddle reminded her of squawking chickens. She clapped her hands over her ears.
Thad bent toward her. “Kinda loud, I guess.”
She nodded in agreement; her voice would never be heard over the two twanging banjos. Thad led her to a wooden bench set against one wall, gestured to Teddy to stay with her, and strode off toward the refreshment table.
Couples whirled and circled on the polished plank floor; watchers ringed the sidelines. Leah’s gaze fastened on the booted and slippered feet milling before her. She could see no pattern in the couples’ steps; why did they not bump into each other?
Teddy scooted closer. “I bet you don’t know how to dance, huh, Leah?”
“Not like this, no. In China my father taught me a dance he called a Virginia reel and another called a Highland fling.”
“Sure are funny names.”
“I will tell you a secret, Teddy.” She tipped her head down and spoke close to his ear. “The Chinese in our village thought Father’s dances were funny, as well. No one had ever seen such wild antics as Scottish dancing. They all laughed when Father tried to teach them, and after that I learned Chinese dances to try to fit in.”
“I bet dumb old Chinese dances have stamping and yelling, too.”
Leah bit her lip. “Oh, no. A Chinese dance is very slow and graceful and—” She broke off when Thad returned with a cup of lemonade for Teddy and two small glasses of amber liquid. Whatever it was, it smelled like varnish.
“In a Chinese dance,” she continued, “a lady uses her fan for expression.”
“Huh! Bet I wouldn’t like it. I don’t like any kinda dancing.”
Leah sought Thad’s gaze, and his eyes met hers over his glass. He saluted her with it and swallowed the contents in one gulp.
She would do the same, she decided. After last night, she felt like toasting her husband. She brought her lips to the rim, tried not to breathe in the fumes, and then tossed all the liquid down as Thad had done.
Fire exploded in her mouth, burning all the way down to her stomach. She struggled to draw in air, but found her throat paralyzed. And scorching hot.
She tried to speak but could not utter a sound. Thad set his glass on the bench and began to pound her back with the flat of his hand. Finally, she dragged in a lungful of air and tried to form a word. What came out was an odd wheezing sound. Her eyes watered. The inside of her mouth felt raw, and her lips were numb.
“Guess I should have brought you a glass of lemonade instead of whiskey.”
She nodded her head so hard her neck hurt. “Never tasted whiskey before,” she rasped.
“Pa, kin I taste some?”
“Nope. But you can quick brin
g some lemonade for Leah.”
Teddy raced off to the refreshment table and Thad slid his arm around her shoulders. “I sure am sorry, Leah. Whiskey is strong stuff. Guess it was a bad idea.”
“No,” she said hoarsely. “It was a good idea.” Even with the burning in her throat, she felt like celebrating the closeness she and Thad had shared last night. It would be a precious memory to carry in her heart all the rest of her life.
Teddy returned with the lemonade glass clutched in both hands to avoid spilling, and Thad rescued it from his grasp.
“Isn’t that Edith Ness over there, son?”
Teddy wrinkled up his face. “Dunno. She and Noralee are twins. They look ’xactly the same.”
“You going to ask her to dance?” Thad inquired, his voice casual.
The boy’s shoulders twitched. “Who, me? Why would I wanna do that?”
“It’s called mending fences, Teddy. Patching up a quarrel.”
“I didn’t quarrel with her, Pa. I bashed her on the nose.”
Without a word Thad set off across the floor, threading his way among the whirling couples to where Edith Ness sat on the sidelines with her parents and twin sister.
Teddy gaped after his father. “Pa must be goin’ crazy.”
“Perhaps,” Leah agreed. She watched Thad’s tall figure stride across the noisy room and bend to speak to the young girl in dark braids. The woman sitting beside her, with the same color braids wound in a coil at the base of her neck, must be the girl’s mother. Beside her, sitting stiffly upright, was Verena Forester, an expectant look on her face.
Thad spoke to Mrs. Ness and then offered his hand to the girl.
“Golly,” Teddy whispered. “Why would Pa wanna dance with Edith?”
Leah had a good idea, but she kept it to herself. Unaware of Verena’s unspoken invitation, Thad escorted the girl out onto the floor, and the other couples made room. He positioned Edith’s hands as far up on his arms as she could reach and rested his hands lightly at her waist. They did not dance, exactly, just moved one step in one direction and another step in the opposite direction, rocking back and forth in time to the music.
Leah watched, astounded, as her husband and Edith appeared to be conversing. The girl’s lips were moving, and after a few minutes she tipped her small, pale face up and Thad leaned down and said something.
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