by Radclyffe
“Because I like looking at you.” Shorter by two inches—and without her shoes, even more—Mae raised up on her tiptoes and glanced another kiss over Vance’s mouth. “Because I like touching you.” She took Vance’s face in both hands and kissed her with intent. Slowly, she moved her lips on Vance’s, accustoming herself to the taste and texture of her. She played her tongue lightly just inside Vance’s mouth, enjoying the slick smooth heat and the barest whisper of Vance’s tongue meeting hers. When she drew away, she knew she’d only skimmed the surface of passions buried so deep it might take a lifetime to search them out. “Because you make things come alive inside of me that I thought had died and disappeared forever.”
“What things?” Vance rasped. “Pity? I don’t want you taking care of—”
Mae pressed her fingers to Vance’s lips. “You’d best stop before you say something that’s really going to get me riled. Maybe back East people pity someone like you, someone who paid the price for doing what she felt was right. Out here, we respect it.” She moved her hand beneath Vance’s chin, her fingers stroking her neck. “Now I’m going to take your shirt off and see what’s been done to you. And if it makes me cry, it’s not because I pity you. It’s because I can’t undo the hurt that you’ve suffered.”
“You already have.” Vance jerked her head away, grabbed Mae around the waist, and dragged Mae against her body. And then she took her mouth with all the fury of those long months of pain and loneliness. Yearning and need and desire tangled in the crush of lips and teeth and tongue. She could feel Mae’s naked body beneath the silk, could feel the heat—the life—in her, and she desperately grasped for it like a drowning man clutched at rocks in a rushing river. “Oh, Mae,” she moaned. “Mae.”
Mae had to fight to gather enough breath to speak, but she knew, knew in her heart despite her terrible desire for Vance, that this was not the time. It was the time for her, but not for Vance. If she took Vance to her bed, it would be like letting a man who’d been lost in the desert for weeks drink himself to death at the first taste of water. They would have a few minutes, a few hours even, of unbearable pleasure in one another’s arms, and in the morning, Vance would walk away and never come back. It had never mattered so much that that not happen. Trembling, heart on fire, Mae braced her hands against Vance’s shoulders and pushed her gently away. “I want you in my bed. Do you hear me?”
Vance—chest heaving, eyes glazed—nodded mutely.
“I want you, but not when we’re both so hungry we’ll tear each other to pieces.” She grasped handfuls of Vance’s shirt when Vance tried to back away. “Listen to me. You’re not alone. I feel what you feel. I need what you need.” She took Vance’s hand and eased it inside her robe, then pressed Vance’s palm over her breast where her heart lurched wildly. “Feel what you’ve done.”
Vance dropped her head with a groan as she cupped Mae’s breast. She’d never touched another human being with passion, and now she could think of nothing else. “I need you. Please. I can’t stop.”
Laughing softly, Mae clasped Vance’s wrist and moved her hand from her breast. “Now I know you’re just playing on my sympathy.”
Shakily, Vance laughed and her mind cleared a fraction. “I was hoping you’d find it in your heart to be charitable, considering how I’ve been…wounded and all.”
“Oh, I might find a soft spot or two for you in my heart.” Mae backed toward the other room where the tub awaited, pulling Vance along by her hand. “Now I want you in the tub with me.”
Mae’s robe had fallen open and her breasts were bare. They were full and firm and rose-kissed. Her body was hot and passionate. She was beautiful. But what gave Vance the courage to answer was the tender welcome in Mae’s eyes.
“Yes,” Vance said quietly. “I want that, too.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Oh my goodness!” Martha Beecher stood in the middle of the kitchen with her hand pressed to her heart, her gaze darting from Kate to Jessie. “Whatever has happened! Kate—look at you, you’re soaked. You’re sure to get ill again behaving this way.” She cast a quick but disapproving glance in Jessie’s direction.
“We’re quite all right, Mother,” Kate said with the slightest hint of ire. After all she’d experienced that evening, such fuss over a little bit of rain felt ridiculous. “We just need to get into some dry clothes and everything will be fine.”
“Go on into the parlor and stand by the fire,” Martha instructed. “I’ll make some tea.”
As Kate and Jessie started from the room, Martha gasped and caught Jessie’s arm. Anxiously, she asked, “Is that blood on your shirt? Are you hurt?”
“It’s just a scratch. I’m fine, thank you,” Jessie said quietly.
“What’s happened?” This time, Martha spoke calmly, as if the true gravity of the situation had settled her nerves.
Jessie glanced quickly at Kate, who nodded. “Horse thieves shot at me and some of my men up in the hills yesterday. My friend Jed is at the doc’s right now.”
“Is it serious?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jessie’s voice trembled and she reached for Kate’s hand.
Kate moved quickly to Jessie’s side and slipped an arm around her waist, hugging her close. “Tea would be good, Mother, if you could make some. We’re both chilled.”
Martha regarded the way Jessie leaned against Kate for support, heard the quiet steady strength in her daughter’s voice, and saw, truly saw for the first time, the woman Kate had become. It was impossible to deny the powerful feelings between the two younger women, no matter how dearly she might have wished it otherwise. She remembered those terrible hours when she had thought she would lose Kate to illness. She recalled Jessie never moving from Kate’s bedside and promising any sacrifice if Kate would only live. And after, when Kate was barely days from death’s door, Kate’s determination that nothing would keep her from being with Jessie, even if they had to leave the territory to be together. It was foolish to think that anything as petty as the small-mindedness of others would ever keep these two apart.
“Take Jessie upstairs to your room and get out of those wet things. I’ll find some clothes of your father’s that will fit Jessie well enough for now. You both need to get dry before you catch your death.”
“Thank you,” Kate whispered, hugging her mother tightly.
*
The large tin tub stood behind the dressing screen in one corner of Mae’s bedroom. Vance took comfort in the fact that the area was only dimly lit by a single oil lamp burning on the dresser on the far side of the bed, which took up the center of the room. She hoped that the scars on her chest and shoulder would blend with the shadows of the room and be less shocking, if no less unsightly. Even her father, a physician and a man used to seeing the worst of the human condition, had exclaimed at the state of the wounds the first time he’d seen her. To give him his due, however, she had only just arrived home from the hospital in Richmond and not everything had healed by that time.
“Whatever you’re worrying about,” Mae murmured, “it’s probably a waste of good energy.”
“Mae, you don’t know—”
“You don’t know where I’ve been, what I’ve seen,” Mae whispered, slipping both hands beneath the edges of Vance’s open shirt and pressing her palms to Vance’s chest. “Stand still now and be quiet. Let me see you.” When she felt Vance shiver violently, she added, “Put your hand inside my robe, on my waist. Hold me.”
With a shuddering breath, Vance parted Mae’s robe completely and curved her arm around Mae’s waist.
“Ready?” Mae leaned into Vance’s body and kissed her throat.
“Yes.”
Mae skimmed her hands from Vance’s chest to her shoulders and over her upper arms, pushing off her shirt. It fell to the floor next to the tub behind them. Vance’s pale skin shimmered like silver in the lamplight. Her breasts were small and taut, her chest lean and tightly muscled like the rest of her body. A patch of scar tissue, the skin pebble
d and rough, stretched from the outer edge of her left breast around her side. Carefully, Mae stroked the uneven surface.
“Is it painful?”
“No,” Vance rasped, keeping her eyes on Mae’s face. “Not when you do that. Sometimes…sometimes when I’m tired, or I’ve ridden for a long time, it gets sore.”
“Does it help to touch it?”
Vance laughed unsteadily. “I don’t know. It feels rather nice just at this moment.”
Mae kissed the tip of Vance’s chin. “You might not be thinking altogether clearly right now. We’ll have to find out later.”
“All right.” Vance was having a hard time sorting out all the conflicting feelings that were warring inside her. Mae was so close that the heat of her body penetrated Vance’s trousers, warming her thighs and pelvis. Mae’s perfume, a bold scent sweetened by Mae’s own distinctive flavor, assaulted her senses, making her dizzy with desire. Her belly was tight with longing, and she wanted to touch Mae everywhere. The brief wonder of Mae’s breast in her hand was almost all she could think about. If she’d been whole, if she’d had two arms, she would never have stood so quietly, waiting. She would have touched Mae the way she hungered to, would have given free rein to the fire that was rapidly consuming her sanity. She remembered what Mae had said just moments before. I feel what you feel. I need what you need. She had to believe that, or her feelings of impotence would drive her mad.
“You’re still shaking. Are you still scared?” Mae asked tenderly.
“No. I…oh!” Vance stumbled back a step as Mae moved her hand from Vance’s chest to what remained of her left arm.
“Tell me if I hurt you.” Mae spoke slowly, taking care to keep her voice level and firm. She’d seen far worse than the stump that ended just above where Vance’s elbow should have been. She’d seen men trampled by horses, women torn apart by deliveries gone wrong, children dead from the pox. Vance’s arm ended in a rounded lump of scar tissue that was far less horrible than she would have expected. Still, this was the woman she cared for, and no matter how well healed the wound appeared now, she knew that the damage extended far deeper than flesh, and she ached for that pain. She did the only thing she could think to do. She curled her fingers gently around Vance’s arm and tenderly kissed the scar.
Vance gasped again. It was so unexpected, so unlike anything anyone had ever done, that she couldn’t take it in. Her knees gave way and the next thing she knew, her cheek was pressed to Mae’s bare stomach as sobs racked her body. Dimly, she was aware of Mae stroking her hair, her neck, her shoulders. Mae was saying something, crooning words that had no meaning but that caressed and soothed the raw weeping places in her soul. “Sorry,” she choked out, “sorry.”
Tears streaked Mae’s cheeks unheeded. She had not imagined it possible that something as simple as a kiss could do this to one so strong, so brave. Brokenly, she whispered, “It’s all right, sweetheart,” although she doubted the truth of her own words. Sometimes there was nothing to do but to live with the pain.
“I wish…” Vance rubbed her cheek against Mae’s skin. Desire warred brutally with need, and it was the need she feared more than loneliness. The desperate longing to be comforted, to be healed, that she’d kept chained for so long was dangerously close to escaping now. Unleashed, it would swallow her alive and destroy any hope of friendship with Mae. “I wish I had come to you whole.”
Mae bit back her sharp protest, because she understood pride and independence. She understood too that Vance would allow nothing to grow between them until she was certain that the feelings rose from love, and not pity. “Looking at you pleases me to no end.” She caressed Vance’s tear-streaked face. “And you’re about as brave a person as I’ve ever met.”
Sighing, Vance closed her eyes. “I don’t see what you see.”
“I know.” For an instant, Mae pressed Vance’s face hard against her body, then gently pushed her away a few inches. “Vance, you’re getting chilled. Let’s both get in the tub so I can hold you.”
After a moment, Vance got unsteadily to her feet and fumbled with the buttons on her trousers. “If we wait much longer, it will be cold.”
Mae smiled. “I don’t think we’re going to notice.”
“You’re the only person other than the doctors and nurses and my father, who’s a doctor, too, who has touched me there.”
“I didn’t mean to open old hurts.” She brushed Vance’s hand aside and finished unbuttoning her trousers for her.
Vance trailed her fingers through Mae’s curls as she worked, then dipped her head and kissed Mae softly. “You didn’t. Sometimes healing hurts.”
Nodding silently, afraid that she might burst into tears now, Mae pushed Vance’s clothing down and shed her own robe. She stepped into the tub, settled down with her back against one end, and held out her hand. “Come sit against me.”
Carefully, Vance climbed in and eased down between Mae’s legs so her back nestled against Mae’s front. The water was still warm, and, despite her exhaustion, at the first contact with Mae’s body, she came instantly awake. Mae’s breasts pressed against her back, and when Mae angled her legs over Vance’s beneath the water, the intimate contact caused her skin to flush with heat. Vance groaned and let her head fall back against Mae’s shoulder. “I never want to move.”
Mae nuzzled Vance’s neck and wrapped both arms around her waist. “Then we won’t.”
Lazily, Vance turned her head and kissed Mae’s neck. “The steam smells like you.”
“It’s the scent I use. I put some in the water.”
“It does things to my insides.”
“Nice things, I hope,” Mae said a bit breathlessly. Everywhere their bodies touched, which was everywhere possible, her skin tingled. Her breasts were full and aching to be caressed. She was hot and pulsing below, desperately needing to be filled. Still, she only smoothed her hand up and down Vance’s belly while pressing her cheek to Vance’s throat. What there was between them was not to be hurried, but to be savored. This moment was about trust as much as passion.
“Wonderful things.” Vance caught Mae’s hand and drew it to her breast, stiffening when Mae’s fingers glanced over her nipple. She groaned softly. “I’ve never been like this with anyone before. Man or woman.”
“I wish I could say the same thing to you.” Mae closed her eyes and kissed Vance’s temple. “I’m sorry that I—”
“Don’t.” Vance kissed Mae’s hand before shifting until she could look into Mae’s face. “Nothing you have ever done or ever might do will matter more to me than what lies between us.” She kissed Mae’s lips, gently at first, then more demandingly. She kissed her first with reverence, then with desire. She kissed her, taking her time, exploring her mouth as she wished to explore all of her, body and soul. The hunger to possess her, to be possessed by her had not abated, but she discovered with each passing second that there was something beyond need. There was knowing. Above all, she wanted to know Mae, in her heart as well as her body. When she drew back from the kiss and settled once more into Mae’s arms, her head resting on Mae’s shoulder, she murmured, “I just wanted you to know why I might not be so…adept…at some things. If we do…”
“When.” Mae laughed breathlessly and caressed Vance’s chest, skimming her breasts just enough to appease her longing for her. “Lord, if you were any better, my heart might climb right out of my chest.”
Vance smiled, a lazy, pleased smile. “My brother always had a way with the ladies. I never thought to experience such things for myself.”
“But you knew you had…feelings…in that direction?”
“Yes. I didn’t recognize exactly what they were at first, because as I’m sure you’re aware, such matters are rarely discussed. But there was one girl in my medical school class. We were close, good friends.” Vance sighed. “Our fondness led to the beginnings of something more intimate, but then the war came and…everything changed.”
“Your brother? Where is he?”
&
nbsp; Vance found Mae’s hand and clasped her fingers. She closed her eyes and said, “Victor and I were twins. We did everything together from the time we were children. We went to different medical schools, but we often saw patients together. When the war came and Lincoln called for physicians, we enlisted together, too.” She smiled. “It was Victor’s idea for me to cut my hair and borrow his clothes so we could sign up for the same regiment. He knew I would find a way to go, and we always had more fun together than apart.” She shivered although the water still held some heat. “We served in the same regiment for the first year and a half. There were very few formally trained surgeons, and before long we were both promoted to brigade surgeon. The Union forces fought on several fronts, and we ended up being separated. The mail, what there was of it, often took months to catch up to us when we were in the field. I hadn’t heard anything from him for the last six months of the war.”
Mae waited, saying nothing when Vance fell silent, but she recognized the hollow note in Vance’s voice for what it was. Terrible loss. She tightened her arms in a futile attempt to shield Vance from a pain that had already struck her heart.
“I didn’t know until I finally returned to Philadelphia upon my release from the hospital that Victor had been killed in the fall of Richmond just a few weeks before I was shot.” Vance turned her face to Mae’s neck. “I’ll always wonder if I’d been with him if I could have saved him.”
Not whether he could have saved you. Mae kissed Vance’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“Victor’s death nearly destroyed my father. My…injury was more than he could cope with. Our relationship was never the same again, and when I wanted to leave Philadelphia, he contacted Caleb Melbourne on my behalf. I think he was glad when I left.”
“Surely he didn’t blame you for what happened.”
“Not exactly. He didn’t know either of us had enlisted, although he wouldn’t have been able to stop us. We wrote to him once we arrived at our first post, and he tried to get me to come home.” She sighed. “When I finally did come home, I was a reminder of everything he’d lost.”
