Fern

by Greenwood, Leigh

  But she must speak. He could have no future with her. She had to send him away, quickly, before her courage failed entirely.

  "I don't love you."

  She was surprised a crack hadn't appeared in the sky, or the Earth go spinning from its axis, when she uttered those words. No mortal had ever uttered a greater lie.

  She was equally surprised Madison didn't know at once she was lying. Surely the lie had disfigured her features; surely her eyes lolled in their sockets. Ice filled her veins. Her heart had turned to stone.

  "I should have realized it before now, but I guess I was bowled over by having a handsome Yankee lawyer--"

  "I'm a Southerner," Madison stated, his pride as stiff as his backbone.

  "--say he loved me. I wish I could love you. You're the kind of man every woman dreams of."

  "But not you, is that it?"

  "I like you an awful lot. Maybe after feeling so alone all my life, I wanted to be in love so badly I didn't want to admit the truth."

  "And when did you discover the truth?"

  "When I met Miss Bruce and realized she loves you much more than I ever could."

  "Samantha! She thinks of me like a brother."

  At least she had startled some life back into him. He didn't look so stiff and lifeless.

  "She loves you, Madison. You may not be able to see it, but I can. She's crazy about you."

  "But that has nothing to do with us. I'm not in love with Samantha."

  He looked like his old self now. There was nothing like opposition to revitalize a man like Madison.

  "Maybe not now, but you will be."

  "That's crazy," Madison objected. "I've known Samantha for years. I've had more than enough time to fall in love with her if I were going to. I didn't. I fell in love with you. I don't know what you're trying to do, but I don't believe you."

  He had recovered. He was mad now, but he'd soon be glad.

  Madison jumped up. Taking Fern by the arms, he pulled her from her seat. "You love me. I can see it in your eyes. I know you do."

  "Let me go," Fern said. The old panic rose so fast her body shook involuntarily. She couldn't help it, but it stunned Madison so he dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back.

  "I only touched your arms."

  It made her sick to see him recoil. He thought she loathed his touch, that she couldn't stand to be near him. She hated the agony in his eyes. She knew what it was like to be rejected. She couldn't do that to Madison. He deserved the truth. It couldn't hurt him any more than a lie.

  "Sit back down," Fern said. "There's more."

  Madison remained standing, his expression of stoic resolve a more bitter reproach than anger.

  Fern remained standing as well.

  "I'm not going to lie to you anymore," she said, trying to hold her gaze steady. "I do love you. More than I ever thought I could love anybody" -- she dashed behind her chair when Madison tried to take her in his arms -- "but it's no good. I can't stand for you to touch me. I've tried, oh God how I've tried, but I can't help it."

  "Don't be absurd. You can't mean--"

  "You saw it just now. You touched me and I cringed." He didn't believe her. He didn't understand. "You felt it. I know you did. I saw it in your eyes. It would be worse if we married. You'd want to touch me all the time. I would soon dread seeing you. I tried to like it, I tried to want your arms around me, but just thinking about it scares me to death."

  Madison forced himself to stand still, to keep his hands at his side. He cursed himself for a fool. If he loved her half as much as he thought he did, he should have known. He should have understood. She wouldn't have tried to make herself into something she wasn't just because a cold-hearted man like Baker Sproull didn't love her.

  "It's because that man tried to rape you, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  He could only imagine the torment of watching her friends fall in love, of knowing it could never happen to her, of being afraid it might.

  And now it had.

  "You can get over that. I'll help. It may take a little while but--"

  "Are you prepared to marry a woman you can never touch for the rest of your life? Are you ready to give up all thought of having a family of your own?"

  "It won't be like that," Madison assured her. "You think so now, but you won't after you have a chance to get used to being with me."

  "I won't sleep in your bed," Fern said. "I won't even sleep in the same room."

  Madison could hear the determination in her voice, see the rigid set of her jaw, the desperation in her eyes. She was scared, much too scared to be able to control her reaction to him.

  "I've thought about little else since the first time you kissed me," Fern said. "I've wanted it to be different. I've tried, but I can't."

  Madison felt his own happiness slipping through his grasp as easily as the Kansas wind through his hair. His entire body tensed to fight back. He had given up too much when he left Texas. He wasn't willing to give up any more. Certainly not Fern.

  "I'll wait as long as it takes," he said. "I'll take you to see any doctor in the world."

  "You don't understand," Fern said. "I used to think when I was wearing pants and swearing and riding horses, I was just trying to hide being afraid, that someday everything would be all right again. Now I know I won't be."

  She was wrong, she had to be.

  "That's not true."

  "You want a wife who can love you the way all men want to be loved. I can't do that."

  "Fern, you're giving up too quickly. You have no idea how patient I can be."

  "Yes, I do," she said, with a bittersweet smile. "Ever since I've known you, you've wanted everything yesterday. But this is not a matter of patience. I can't do it. I've tried."

  Madison could feel her moving farther away, out of his reach, and his control snapped. He gripped Fern by her arms. "You can't mean this. You're still upset about my forgetting to come by the farm. You'll feel different when you have a little time."

  "Madison, please--"

  Fern felt the panic start to rise. The same old black fear, taking all the joy out of being with him.

  "You know I wouldn't hurt you."

  "You're hurting me now." Nothing seemed to stop it. Not anger, not frustration. She could feel her muscles getting tighter.

  "I love you, Fern. I want to marry you. I'll do what I have to do, wait as long as necessary, but I want you to be my wife. I won't let you sell yourself short."

  "Please--" The pounding of her heart was so loud she could hardly hear him. Couldn't he feel it? Couldn't he tell?

  Madison slipped his arms around her waist. "See, this isn't so bad. You aren't shaking. In a short while you'll start to feel better. You'll even want me to touch you." He drew her close. "I love you, Fern. I won't let you go."

  The feel of his chest pressed tight against her breast caused Fern's body to go rigid. She pushed against him with all her might. "If you don't let me go, I'll scream."

  "You don't mean that," Madison said. "You just have to wait long enough to realize nothing's going to happen."

  Fern couldn't breathe. She saw black spots before her eyes. She was afraid if she didn't escape Madison, she would go mad.

  So she kicked him. Very hard.

  "Son-of-a-bitch!" Madison exclaimed as he released Fern. "What are you trying to do, break my leg?"

  "I asked you to let me go, but you wouldn't."

  "You really mean this, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  She could see his face set hard with anger.

  "Let me tell you something, Fern Sproull, you've just talked yourself into being afraid of me. Don't get all mad and puffed up. I know what you went through was terrible, but I love you. I wouldn't do anything in the world to hurt you."

  "I know. I tried, but I can't."

  "Well I don't believe it. I don't know the answer, but there is one, and I don't mean to give up until I find it."

  "Madison, go home and marry Saman
tha. She loves you. She'd be the perfect wife."

  "I love you," Madison growled, "though God only knows why. After the hell I've been put through with my family, you'd think I'd get a break when I fell in love."

  "You did. You got Samantha. What more could any man want?"

  "I don't know about any man, but I want you, Fern Sproull, and I mean to have you."

  "But--"

  "No more buts. I'll leave you alone tonight. I don't want to, but I will, but you'll be ready to go to that dance."

  "Madison, be sensible. I can't--"

  "I can't be sensible. I fell in love with you, so I must be crazy. But if so, I'm going to be crazy all the time. I'm going to take you to the dance. We'll only touch fingertips if necessary, but you're going to dance with me. And you're going to walk with me, and you're going to hold hands with me, and you're going to kiss me. And we're going to keep doing it over and over again until you can do it without turning green. Then if you can look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me, you don't want to marry me, then I'll leave you alone. But not until then. Do you understand? Not until then."

  Madison grabbed Fern, pressed her hard against his body, and kissed her ruthlessly on the mouth.

  "There," he said as he released her. "You can scream all you like. But I'll still be here tomorrow. Tell Rose I'll bring Samantha and Freddy by for lunch."

  With that, Madison vaulted over the porch rail, barely missing one of Mrs. Abbott's prized flowers, and stalked off toward the hotel.

  When Fern reached her room, she found she still had a lot more tears to shed.

  * * * * *

  Madison traced the outline of Fern's pursed lips with the tip of his tongue. Her moist warmth caused his limbs to tense with anticipation. Groaning with unsated desire, he took her mouth in a greedy kiss. She impatiently returned his embrace, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth like a hungry hummingbird, her body pressed tightly against him, her firming nipples rubbing against his bare chest through the thin material of her white lace gown. A shudder of delicious anticipation shook his body. Fern trembled in response.

  His hand cupped her breast, gently massaging the inviting mound until the nipples stood up firm, full and rosy. Forsaking her hungry mouth, Madison tongued her pulsating nipple through the thin cotton material. Fern's groan of erotic pleasure, her body writhing against his own, only increased his need of her. Even as he continued to suckle her breast, his hand slipped down her side, along her hip and down her thigh. Her purr of pleasure as his hand slipped under her gown and between her legs drew forth a sympathetic moan from him. His own body grew uncomfortably hard.

  Slipping her gown off her shoulders, Madison let his tongue trace warm, wet circles on her breast. The feel her of her nearness, the heat of her desire caused the blood in his veins to reach the boiling point. Throwing caution to the winds, he pulled the gown down her body, slipped it under her hips, and cast it from him.

  He gazed in wonder at the perfection of her beauty. Reaching out with eager fingertips, he touched her skin, trailed his fingers over her abdomen, reveling in the softness of her body, the warmth of her skin. Fern's hands explored over his body nipping, pinching, caressing, teasing until his control evaporated.

  Madison wrapped her in a crushing embrace. She wrapped herself around him, drawing him closer and closer until they seemed to merge into one body, become one soul. It was as though their corporeal bodies dissolved and they coalesced into a single spiritual whole.

  But even as they achieved this perfect union, Madison felt himself drift away, borne aloft, floating alone, watching Fern wrapped in the embrace of someone else.

  Her face no longer mirrored ecstasy. Anger and fear distorted the features he held so dear. Instead of clinging to his embrace, she fought against it. The man wasn't Madison, and he wasn't making love to her.

  A stranger was raping Fern.

  Madison tried to reach out, to tear them apart, but he floated away, helpless as Fern silently screamed his name.

  * * * * *

  With a gulping breath and a convulsive shudder, Madison came awake. His whole body shook. The single sheet clung to his damp body. The dream had been terrifyingly real. He threw the sheet aside and got out of the bed.

  He couldn't get this man out of his mind!

  Somewhere out there was the man who attacked Fern. He might be a killer, he might be a model citizen, but he had paid no penalty for the life he nearly ruined. Madison could no longer be satisfied with just proving Hen's innocence. He had to find this man and make certain he never attacked a woman again.

  Madison also vowed he would never give up Fern. Some day he would make her his wife. She would come to him in her own time, when she wanted to, when she could no longer resist the need that drew her to him, or she wouldn't come at all.

  He wanted her on any terms. Even impossible.

  Fern didn't see Madison the next day. She left early for the farm. But that evening he brought Samantha and Freddy to meet Rose and George. If he'd been trying to convince Fern she was wrong about Samantha, he made a big mistake. Miss Bruce was too much of a lady to wear her heart on her sleeve, but Fern saw that Rose knew Samantha was in love with Madison inside of fifteen minutes. Even Mrs. Abbott could see it.

  "I never thought I'd be saying such a thing about Mr. Madison," Mrs. Abbott said after Madison and George had left to escort the young Bruces back to the hotel, "but he and that Miss Bruce do make the prettiest couple. Do you think they're going to get married? It's for certain she's just waiting for him to ask her."

  "I can't say," Rose responded with a covert glance at Fern. "I haven't known Madison any longer than you have."

  "I know, but you being his sister-in-law and all--"

  "He doesn't confide in me. According to George, he doesn't confide in anyone."

  "It's a pity she's not going to the dance," Mrs. Abbott said. "Nobody in Abilene has ever seen the likes of her."

  "Mrs. McCoy has sent a special invitation to Miss Bruce and her brother," Rose informed her.

  "I didn't think Mr. Madison would let her sit home, not when he could be dancing with the prettiest woman I've ever seen."

  "I'm certain Madison will dance with Miss Bruce, but she's going with her brother. Madison will be escorting Fern."

  "Fern!" Mrs. Abbott exclaimed, spinning to face the blushing Fern. "I'm sure she doesn't even own a dress, much less a party gown."

  "Nevertheless, Madison assures me he will be escorting Fern to the dance."

  "I never said I'd go," Fern told the two women. "Madison just assumed I'd do what he wanted."

  "That may be, but surely you don't mean to tell him no at this point?" Mrs. Abbott exclaimed.

  Fern wondered want Madison had done to graduate from a man suspected of trying to sneak into her bedroom to a gentleman even a female like Fern couldn't refuse. She wished she could enjoy the same elevation in people's eyes.

  She couldn't see how going to the party would help. If she had been concerned before about how she would look compared to the local belles, she would have been foolhardy to even dream of appearing at the same party as Samantha Bruce.

  Yet she did dream of going. She dreamed of it every night. Dreamed of appearing in a gown more beautiful than anything Samantha could buy in Boston or New York. Dreamed of being more beautiful than any woman Madison had ever seen. Dreamed of dancing the night through, of being held in his arms, of seeing his eyes so filled with love he wasn't aware there were other women in the room. Dreamed of him whispering words of love and eternal devotion in her ear. Dreamed of the kisses that would set her soul on fire, the desire she would ignite in his body.

  But each morning the light of day, and cold reason, scattered her dreams with ruthless regularity.

  She had no dress. And she felt certain Samantha Bruce had dozens that were prettier than anything she could buy in Kansas City or St. Louis. Even Chicago.

  And there was no way she could dazzle anyone with her beauty. Her hair
was a mess, and her skin was unfashionably brown. Besides, she wasn't pretty.

  And as much as she longed to be held and kissed, she knew the old panic would make her drive Madison away. It always did, even though she sometimes ached so much for Madison she cried.

  But she couldn't give up. No matter what argument she offered, no matter what happened, a part of her continued to believe she would find a way. That part of her was never more insistent than right now.

  "I'd probably go if I had a dress," Fern told Mrs. Abbott. "But there's no place to buy one in Abilene, at least not one suitable for Mrs. McCoy's party."

  "That's for sure," Mrs. Abbott agreed. "I've been telling Sarah Wells for years she ought to get her husband to stock some decent fancy clothes. There's lots of people in Abilene that's tired of calico."

  Fern had expected Rose to pepper her with suggestions, but she said nothing. Instead she studied Fern in a manner that made her uncomfortable. Fern didn't understand it, and she didn't trust it. She had grown very fond of Rose -- she was the closest friend Fern had ever had -- but Fern reminded herself Rose's first loyalty was to her husband and his family.

  "I thought about going to Kansas City, but with Papa's death I just forgot about it."

  "I'm sure he'll understand that," Mrs. Abbott assured her, "but I don't expect he'll be too understanding about the party. Men never do understand when things go contrary to what they want."

  Still Rose made no comment.

  "He'll expect it of me," Fern said. "I've done little more than make him angry since he got here."

  She wondered how long he would keep thinking he loved her, how long he would want to hold her in his arms, how many more weeks before her image began to fade from his memory. How long before he forgot what it was that made him fall in love with her in the first place, forgot all the little things that kept her from being just a woman in pants.

  She would never forget him, not a single detail. No one else walked into a room like he did -- like he owned it. His mere presence made her temperature climb ten degrees. It made colors brighter. It made the words in every sentence ring with more meaning. She felt a sense of expectation, as though something wonderful was about to happen.