The Visions of Ransom Lake

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “What?” Vaden gasped. “I can’t believe you would say something like that!”

  “Yes, ya can. You know me well enough by now, Vaden.” And with that, Ransom Lake’s utterance of her name so informally, Vaden Valmont was undone. Not that she really wanted to elude him anyway, but now, after hearing and seeing his mouth say her name so familiarly, she was dazed for a moment. She could only stare into those unusual gray eyes as he continued.

  “Now,” he began in a whisper—as he moved closer to her, she could no longer see the warmth of his breath turning to fog before her—he said, “I’ll show ya the difference between that wormy Jerome Clayton and the likes of Ransom Lake.”

  Vaden shook her head ever so slightly. She already knew the difference—the profound and obvious difference. She closed her eyes for just a moment as one of his powerful hands caressed her cheek. As his roughened thumb traveled lightly over her soft lips, she looked away from him shyly.

  He did not force her to look back at him, but as he traced the outline of her lips with his thumb once more, he said in a lowered voice, “I’d bet my life that your pretty little mouth tastes sweeter than sugar.”

  She looked up to him quickly, breathless and unable to believe what her ears had heard him say. He was so handsome, so fatally and lethally attractive. Surely she was simply daydreaming.

  “Hasn’t that wild curiosity of yours ever wondered…haven’t ya tried to imagine what my kiss tastes like, Vaden?” he whispered.

  “No,” she tried to state emphatically. “No. Never.” Then her curiosity even at that moment rose to an uncontrollable height, and she asked, “But…what do you mean tastes like? I don’t…”she stammered, finding it difficult to control her breathing.

  Ransom Lake chuckled, and a triumphant grin spread across his face. “Well, that right there proves the boy didn’t kiss ya proper.”

  “You’re just trying to—” she stammered in a whisper.

  She gasped into silence as she felt Ransom’s hand move beneath her coat and rest at her waist for a moment before sliding to her back and pulling her body against his. Again his free hand caressed her cheek. He put his thumb under her chin, pushing her face up and forcing her eyes to find his. His hand moved, his thumb caressing her throat as it encircled her neck. Even for his bulky clothing, his body was warm against hers, the muscles in his chest and arms solid as he held her to him.

  “He didn’t even hold ya proper…didn’t let his hand feel the softness of your face like he should have before he…you didn’t enjoy that kiss at all did ya, Vaden?” he mumbled.

  The deep intonation of his voice seemed to echo throughout Vaden’s head, and she struggled to keep from collapsing at his feet.

  “Why are you teasing me like this?” she breathed in a frustrated whisper. She was trembling, uncontrollably so. Being in Ransom Lake’s arms, the feel of his body pressed to hers, it was exhilarating!

  “I’m not teasing you. I’m teaching you, teaching ya that ya don’t go lettin’ every wormy boy in town enjoy your kiss.”

  She looked up, and his gaze seized hers.

  “What…what makes you different than anybody else?” she managed to ask, though her voice was nearly lost to the bliss of being held by him, to the pleasure of his touch.

  He grinned somewhat triumphantly then, and her insides began to quiver uncontrollably, for it was definitely her final undoing. “I think ya know what makes me different from the likes of Jerome Clayton, now don’t ya?”

  Vaden couldn’t answer. She couldn’t even nod an acknowledgment to him. She could only close her eyes as his head, his handsome, roughly shaven face, and his tempting mouth moved closer to hers. It was too torturous, and she was certain he could hear her heart pounding madly. She opened her eyes and tried to look past him to the stars in the skies, the leaves falling softly to the ground from a nearby tree, to anything that might help her not to faint in his arms.

  When he spoke next, she felt the warmth of his breath on her lips. The wondrous sensation caused excessive moisture to drench her eager mouth.

  “There’s more to a kiss than my lips on yours, Vaden,” he whispered. Her skin prickled with goose bumps as his lips brushed hers teasingly. “There’s the feel of my arms around ya so ya know it’s me holding ya here.” The tip of his nose brushed her forehead as his lips placed a soft kiss on her own nose. “There’s the feel of my whiskers rough on your cheek and around your mouth so ya recognize I’m a man and not some wormy boy.”

  His hand left her neck and traveled down her right arm to where her own hand anxiously clutched the fabric of her skirt in its fist. Tugging at her hand, he coaxed it to release its nervous grip on her clothing and directed it to his face, where her open palm rested for an instant before he pushed her hand up, her fingers being lost in the softness of his hair for a time before they came to rest along his masculine and well-defined jaw. “If ya leave your hand on my face just here, you’ll be able to feel it there too when I kiss you.”

  Then, though Vaden was certain she would awaken at any moment to find the dream vanished, Ransom Lake, the man she was beginning to realize she had been born to love, kissed her lips softly and somewhat hesitantly at first, tenderly, teasingly, and without demand. Brushing her cheek with his own then, he whispered, “Don’t hold your breath, girl. You’ll faint dead away. There’s nothin’ to be afraid of from me.”

  “I’m…I’m not a child, and I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Lake,” Vaden corrected him, barely able to find the breath to do so.

  “Oh, I know you’re not a child, Vaden. I do know that.”

  The piercing gaze of his gray eyes held hers for a long moment with the miracle of their fascinating storms. Then both arms belonging to Ransom Lake embraced her, pulling her securely against his perfectly constructed and powerful body. His mouth took hers at once, moist, demanding, and thorough, and she was weakened in his arms, afraid her knees would give way beneath her. She didn’t feel the chilled breeze on her face, and she was unaware of standing in a small mud puddle, the water finding its way into her boots. There was nothing else in the world at that moment, nothing but Ransom Lake—nothing but the feel of being in his arms, the taste of his heated mouth as it instructed her responses, leading her instincts in returning the exchange. And he instructed well, led well, kissed fantastically, as if he himself had invented that particular act of physical affection. It was the first thoroughly impassioned kiss Vaden had ever experienced, and she knew in that instant she would never desire such a kiss from any other man. She was certain no other man could ever create such a kiss. It could only be from him, this man who held her in his arms at that dream-borne moment. She would never want, never allow, another kiss from any man save it were Ransom Lake.

  Abruptly he ended their embrace, took her face firmly between his powerful hands, and kissed her fiercely one last time before releasing her completely. Vaden leaned back against the wall, afraid she might crumple to the ground in her weakened condition.

  “That’s how he should’ve kissed ya, Miss Vaden,” Ransom Lake stated in a lowered voice. “That’s what your first kiss from a man should’ve felt like. And believe me when I tell ya, child…that ain’t nothin’ compared to what would’ve taken place between us if we were any more familiar with each other. If Jerome Clayton can kiss ya like that…then I guess I’m wrong about him. But I doubt it.” He retrieved her cap from its place in his pocket and plopped it promptly on her head.

  Vaden touched her lips with her fingertips, still able to sense the taste and feel of Ransom Lake’s kiss there as she watched him walk away through the dark and moonlight. She could do no more than simply stand where she was for several minutes, uncertain what to do. She looked about her to see if anyone may have witnessed the kiss. Then she ran her fingers through her hair as she struggled to regain her senses.

  She had never imagined! Not in her wildest, most romantic of dreams had she imagined that kissing the mysterious man would be such a completely euphoric e
xperience.

  “I can’t believe it,” Vaden whispered out loud to herself. Finally, as the astonished confusion of it all began to wear off, she sighed and let her body relax against the building’s outer wall. She smiled, completely enraptured by the memory of being held by Ransom Lake, kissed by his capable mouth. Closing her eyes, she let the cool breeze brush lightly across her face, tickling her nose now and again.

  Ransom Lake had kissed her! The same Ransom Lake who had occupied her dreams, thoughts, and curiosities for weeks—the same physically gorgeous, flawlessly attractive Ransom Lake who had every female heart in town aflutter. He had kissed her! She squealed with delight as she turned and dashed back onto the front porch and to the door. She would simply have to tell Yvonne, that very next instant! But, pausing before she opened the door and walked into the fire warmth of the house, she remembered what had happened only moments before Ransom Lake had kissed her.

  Jerome. The thought of Jerome Clayton dampened her excitement more than a little. She knew Yvonne approved of Jerome’s attentions toward her, seeing him as a suitable beau for her younger sister. He was polite, well mannered, and safe. Yes, Vaden thought, that’s why Yvonne approved of Jerome. He was safe in her eyes. No doubt he would provide well for his wife, whoever she turned out to be. He would never indulge in liquor or other devastating vices. He would never hide his past or become a hermit. And, she thought determinedly, he would never—rather Jerome could never—kiss her the way Ransom Lake had. Jerome would never be able to send her thoughts, feelings, and spirit soaring into delicious oblivion with a simple kiss. And Vaden needed to soar! Maybe Ransom Lake wasn’t safe, but he was magnificent, unique, provocative, and captivating.

  Vaden breathed a disheartened sigh. Yes, Ransom Lake was everything—everything her soul could ever dream of. And he was completely out of reach. He would never want her with any kind of permanency—a short, ridiculous girl who was forever causing him discomfort in some form, whether it was boots hitting him on the head, waking to find his beard gone, or finding her in his lap in the barber’s establishment. Vaden knew Ransom Lake could never be hers. But to settle for Jerome? She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t! Not as long as Ransom Lake breathed the air of the earth. And even if by some unthinkable tragedy his wonderful, his heaven-scented breath would stop, even then Jerome would not do for Vaden. She knew it. She had changed a bit suddenly, and she knew the time had come. Because of one heavenly kiss from the man of her dreams, she knew she must tell Jerome—soon. She must tell him his pursuance of her was in vain.

  “How was your evening, sweet pea?” Myra asked as Vaden entered the house. At the sound of her aunt’s voice, her thoughts instantly scattered.

  “Um…fine. Fine, disappointing, and wonderful all at the same time, Auntie.”

  Myra quirked a puzzled eyebrow.

  Vaden simply went to where her aunt sat on the sofa in the parlor and hugged her tightly around the neck. “I know it’s not exactly what you wanted to hear, Auntie. But that’s the truth of it.”

  Myra smiled at her niece and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Well, it’s late now. Yvonne’s in bed nearly thirty minutes already. You run along.” Vaden smiled, giggling as well as she stood and noticed her Uncle Dan sound asleep in his nearby rocker, a book open and lying on his chest as he snored quietly.

  Vaden entered her room to find it dark. She heard Yvonne’s quiet breathing, soft and regular, indicating she slept soundly. Quietly she removed her dress, corset, stockings, and such, replacing them with her soft nightdress. She stubbed her toe on her bed leg and gasped trying to stay quiet. But Yvonne lifted her head and sat up.

  “You’re home then. Was it a nice evening with Jerome?” Yvonne asked in a whisper.

  “The evening itself did have one bright spot. The evening with Jerome was barely tolerable,” Vaden whispered as she slipped beneath her covers.

  Yvonne sighed heavily. “Don’t tell me you were rude to him, Vay. How do you ever expect to catch him completely when—”

  “I don’t want to catch him, Vonnie!” Vaden snapped. “I don’t want Jerome! Don’t you see that? Why is everyone so intent on me capturing Jerome Clayton? I’m sick of it. I’m sick to death of it!”

  “He’s a good man, Vaden. Why don’t you—” Yvonne began.

  “Yvonne,” Vaden interrupted, springing from her bed and going to sit on Yvonne’s,” he kissed me tonight. You have no idea what I felt. It was like—”

  “Jerome kissed you? Tonight?” Yvonne gasped.

  Even in the dark, Vaden could see the whites of Yvonne’s eyes as they widened in astonishment.

  “Well Jerome kissed me too, but—”

  “What do you mean Jerome kissed you too?” Yvonne was aghast, and Vaden knew it.

  “Yes, Jerome kissed me, out there on the front porch—a kiss I’m certain most girls in this town covet. And yet…and yet I felt like I wanted nothing more in the world but to escape it! To rinse my lips under the pump.” Vaden sighed with discouragement.

  “What do you mean Jerome kissed you too, Vay? Are you trying to tell me that someone else…” Yvonne asked, her words trailing off in a whisper and then vanishing in the quiet of the room. It was obvious by the expression on her face that her disapproval battled with insatiable curiosity—like a cattle rancher and sheep farmer arguing over grazing lands.

  “Ransom Lake kissed me tonight, Yvonne. Ransom Lake!” Vaden confessed as the excitement, the all-encompassing, total exhilaration of his kiss, returned anew to her memory and senses. She ran her hands over her forearms, reveling in the feel of the goose bumps the memory raised.

  Yvonne gasped, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief. “Vaden! Do you mean to tell me that you have kissed two men in one night?” Yvonne buried her face in her hands and began to mumble. “Where did I go wrong? I’ve never taught you to…two men…kissing you in one night! Two men alone is bad enough, Vay,” she scolded, looking up again, “but two in one night?”

  “You forget, Yvonne. I didn’t want the kiss from—”

  “I knew it! I knew that hermit was no good. Imagine! Forcing his—”

  “It was Jerome’s kiss I didn’t want, Yvonne,” Vaden interrupted. Then, throwing her head back for a moment, she sighed with heavy frustration. “Yvonne, I don’t want Jerome. I want Ransom Lake. I love Ransom Lake. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see it? I’ve loved him from the first day we came here! You even told me you thought I did. And I feel him—”

  “Vaden! You feel him? Whatever do you mean by that? What a thing to say to me! I can’t believe you, Vaden. You shouldn’t be touching him, kissing him, let alone feeling him! Sometimes I can’t believe you.” Yvonne was horrified.

  Vaden shook her head in frustration. “I swear, Vonnie, you are the hardest person to talk to. Don’t you understand plain speaking? I feel him. Here,” she whispered, putting a hand to her bosom, her voice pleading for understanding from her sister. “I feel him in my heart, in my mind, in my stomach, in my arms! He’s become the food for my soul, Yvonne. Can’t you at least imagine what it would feel like to love someone like that? Or is it that you’re just too aware of propriety, of assured financial stability…of what looks proper to the world…are you too worried about those things to understand what I’m feeling?”

  Yvonne was silent for a moment. Then she spoke quietly. “It’s impossible, Vaden. No one can have exactly what they expect from love, from marriage, from life. You set your dreams, your ambitions, your heart too high. I fear you’ll simply plummet when you realize one morning that Ransom Lake will never love you. He’s not capable of it. But Jerome—”

  “No. He may not love me, Yvonne. And I know that. But he’s capable of loving someone far more thoroughly and honestly than Jerome Clayton is,” Vaden said.

  Yvonne sighed. “Every unmarried woman in this town, Vay…every one of them…and I suspect there are some married ones who would think of leaving their husbands if the opportunity to possess Ransom Lake came along. Ev
ery woman is mesmerized by him, Vaden. You can’t possibly be certain he favors you.”

  “He doesn’t favor me, Yvonne,” Vaden admitted sternly. “I know that, but I love him. I don’t love him simply because he’s so astoundingly handsome or because he’s so mysterious. I love him because I know who he is. I’ve seen something in him that every other woman in this town is too shallow to see. And obviously, Yvonne…that includes you.”

  As Vaden stood and returned to her bed, Yvonne whispered, “I only love you, Vay. I know if you have your heart broken…it would break so much harder than anyone else’s would. I…I just don’t want to watch you—”

  “It’s already breaking, Yvonne. Just the knowledge I will never be to Ransom Lake what he is to me…that knowledge in itself is tearing my heart into shreds.” Vaden climbed into her own bed and pulled the covers up around her neck.

  There was silence for some time, and Vaden thought her sister had gone back to sleep. But then Yvonne’s voice broke the darkness, and Vaden was surprised when she said, “I’ve never been kissed by a man. Not a man I consider to be a man, anyway. Oh, there was Charles Rogers on my sixteenth birthday, but he was only eighteen. And then, of course, you know about William Acron. And even though he was nearly twenty-two…he wasn’t a man. Do you know what I’m trying to say?”

  Vaden was still angry and hurt by her sister’s apparently insensitive manner of the previous conversation, but she had no desire to stay so. “I do know,” she answered.

  “He’s a man. Ransom Lake is as much my ideal of a man as he is yours, Vaden. I will admit that to you. And…and…” Yvonne was stammering, seeming as if she could not find the courage to finish her thinking.

  “I will admit to you, Vonnie, that he did treat me somewhat as if he were dealing with a child at first. He began lecturing me on how Jerome’s kiss was not a kiss worth wasting time on. You see, Jerome kissed me first on the porch when we were saying goodnight. Then, out of the autumn darkness, Ransom Lake appeared, and he scolded me for letting Jerome kiss me. He said Jerome couldn’t do a proper job of it. Then Ransom Lake whisked me to the side of the house, removed my mittens and hat, and kissed me. I do not exaggerate to you when I say that it was like nothing I could ever have imagined, Vonnie. If I should die tonight, I could not have wished for a more profoundly perfect thing to have experienced in my life.”