Vaden dropped her head as she began to sob once more. Her strength was gone. Her will to defend herself from great harm or simple teasing was gone from her. She felt weak and tired and insecure.When Ransom Lake’s hands released her wrists, his strong arms encircling her body and pulling her once again onto his lap and against the warmth of him, Vaden simply collapsed. Letting her arms encircle his waist for a moment, she inhaled deeply of the scent of his skin as her tears bathed his chest. Her hands slid up the length of his back to his shoulders, where they rested as she returned his comforting embrace.
After she had cried out the anguish in her heart, she lifted her head from him, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands and asked, “How did you know where they had taken me? Did you simply guess at it? I’ve seen no one else out this way since we started for home. How did you know where to look?”
Ransom sighed heavily and let his hands travel to her waist, holding her firmly as he sat her between his legs.He drew his knees up on either side of her and rested his forearms on them. Vaden watched, intrigued as his jaw visibly clenched and unclenched several times as if he were fighting not to say something.
“I just…I just knew,” he mumbled, looking away from her.
“What do you mean? How could you just know?” she asked.
“I guessed at it,” he nearly snapped, glaring at her. “I-I just figured it’s where boys might go to…to…play pranks.” He took Vaden’s shoulders and turned her so her back leaned against his chest, her legs stretched out on the wagon bed before her. She sensed he didn’t want her to look at him. She wondered what he was hiding. “Now, them draggin’ ya out here and actin’ like they were gonna to bury ya…that’s all they did, right?”
“What do you mean is that all they did?” Vaden snapped, wishing she could turn and look at him again. “I think it’s a horrid enough thing, and I—”
“I mean…your shirtwaist…the collar on this side and shoulder,” he said.She shivered with pleasure as she felt his fingers fumbling with thetorn fabric, which exposed her shoulder and camisole strap. “They didn’t try to—”
“No,” Vaden interrupted. His meaning was all too clear and justified she knew. But she hadn’t wanted him to have to speak of it further. “It was torn when they removed the blanket they’d put over my head. I tried to run, naturally.”
“Naturally,” he repeated in agreement.
Vaden’s body tensed as she felt his warm, strong hand cup her bare shoulder for a lingering moment.
“I-I tried to run, and…and my shirtwaist was torn when one of them grabbed it to stop me.” Vaden tried to calm her breathing and her emotions.
It was too much, too torturous a night! To be terrorized, to fear for her life, and in the next moment to find herself in the arms of the man she loved—it was too much! As she felt the warmth of Ransom Lake’s breath on the flesh of her neck where her collar was torn away, her tears moistened her cheeks again. She thought of the moment when they had stood on the banks of the brook and he seemed to have read her mind, knowing full well she had wondered why he tore the sleeves from his shirts, how the smooth contours of his chest would feel beneath her palm. She remembered his telling her to go home so her curiosity could get busy on other things of wonderment. How it feels for me to touch your skin, he had said. As her body broke into an involuntary shiver, goose bumps covering every inch of her, she realized he had answered that curiosity himself, for she trembled uncontrollably as his hand squeezed her shoulder for a moment before his fingers slipped caressively beneath the strap of her camisole for an instant. Then he straightened out one of his legs, turning her body so her legs lay across it, her back against his other leg still bent and supporting his own forearm. This action, whether for reasons of his own discomfort or his concern for hers, placed her shoulder, exposed because of the tear in her clothing, under and against his own arm still resting on his knee.
“You’re cold,” he mumbled in the low, sultry voice that was Vaden’s undoing every time. His arm left his knee then and encircled her shoulders, pulling her tightly against the warmth of his body. “I guess I should’ve taken the time to bring a coat,” he whispered. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”
Vaden could only shake her head as he let his other arm embrace her as well. She couldn’t speak a word, forced into silence by the magnitude of the realization she was being held, protected, comforted by Ransom Lake. She adored the sensation of her bare shoulder tucked warmly under his arm. She relished the idea of being restrained in his arms, possessed by his will. For those seemingly brief moments between his finding her and their arriving home when she would have to face the memories of the cruelty to her, she rejoiced in the things, the ways, the hint of affections that were given her of Ransom Lake.
Her head nestled firmly against his chest, and she reveled in the low, rhythmic sound of his heart as it beat to give him life. It was a strong, powerful rhythm given to a strong, powerful man, and she fancied for a moment the rhythm therein increased suddenly. Looking up, she found his puzzled frown had returned, and he once again intently studied her.
Why do you look at me that way? she thought to herself.
As if to have read her mind, he whispered, “It would be mighty easy for a man to take advantage of this situation, girl.”
“How could a man take advantage of this situation?” she asked, though she knew—she hoped she knew—what he intimated.
“Don’t play the fool with me, Vaden. I know your mind. You know full well what I mean,” he chuckled.
Vaden was delighted to delirium at his addressing her so personally. “Well then…if it would be so easy,” she paused, unable to believe she was going to say the words she intended, “why don’t you?”
Immediately his eyebrows rose from their intensity of a frown to that of astonishment. He chuckled shortly and shook his head. “Did they hit ya over the head when they drug ya off?” he asked.
“No. But I want you to—” Her words were cut short when his fingers pressed against her lips and he hushed her. I want you to kiss me, she finished in her thoughts.
“Now don’t be sayin’ things you’ll regret later, Vaden,” he mumbled.
She smiled slightly when she noticed the way his eyes lingered on her mouth as she pushed his fingers away.
“You’re just upset over the things that went on and…” His words were lost, and Vaden felt her heart soar as, continuing to stare at her mouth, he moistened his own lips with the tip of his tongue.
Ransom Lake had lived a solitary life for no one knew how many years. But Vaden Valmont had guessed long ago that the years had been many. She knew enough of men to know a man of Ransom Lake’s strength, health, age, and years of loneliness must own some yearning, some need of a woman’s soft affections. The mesmerized expression in his storm-filled eyes told her she was correct in her estimation of him. So she placed her own fingers gently to her lips, kissing them softly before she reached out to tenderly place them on the lips of Ransom Lake. His lips were warm, and as her fingers lingered, caressing them, Vaden began to doubt for a moment that he could be weakened. But an instant before she would’ve pulled her hand away from him, he took it firmly in his and closed his eyes for a moment as he kissed the delicate tips of her fingers. Then, guiding her hand under his arm and around to rest on his back, he bent, cradling her securely with both arms and kissing her fiercely.
From the first touch of his lips to hers, Vaden imagined the bonfire thathad burned so ferociously and hot at the Halloween social that evening was holed up within her. This kiss was different from the kiss she’d received from Ransom Lake while standing in a mud puddle some weeks earlier. This kiss revealed his absolute masculinity, his intense virility. It was insistent, demanding reciprocation, and Vaden responded willingly, for she knew how desperately the powerful love she secreted for him needed this physical attention. She also knew of the needs, both emotional and physical, that Ransom Lake had been deprived of or of which he had deprived
himself.
The short whiskers of his roughly shaven face scratched at the tender flesh around Vaden’s mouth as this likeness of perfect masculinity, Ransom Lake, worked a kiss of a magnitude to be entirely thorough and passionate. Shedid not worry for this discomfort nor for the discomfort of nearly having the breath squeezed from her lungs so tightly did he hold her against his powerful body.For in those wholly shared moments of impassioned kisses, Vaden Valmont knew Ransom Lake was her own. Even as her mind and senses whirled with the bliss of his intimate attentions, she knew it would end and that he would again be lost to her. But for those glorious moments in time, for the enraptured duration of their kiss, Ransom Lake was hers. Vaden sensed that, though the chance would be merely an instant, she controlled the powerful, independent man. She alone held the reins to his mind, his desire, and his will in that instant. She let her hand rest at his jaw as he had instructed her to do on the previous occasion of his kissing her. The fire that blazed within her burned feverish in her heart as she could indeed feel the intensity of his determination to draw from her the essence that would quench his desire. As her hand caressed his jaw, her thumb rested for a moment in the slight cleft of his chin, and she marveled at his mastery of manipulating her emotions.
Suddenly, he broke from her.As she gasped for breath, for she truly had not realized how much his consummate kiss had deprived her of it, he held her tightly to him, whispering in her ear over and over, “I’m sorry, Vaden. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Then he took her chin in his hand and looked remorsefully into her eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt you. You’ve been my sweet, loyal…friend.” He stumbled over the words as if he were trying to find them as he went.
Vaden’s heart, which only moments before had been soaring in the heavens of love, began to fracture once again. With his admission to her that he valued her as his friend only, all the pain she felt at knowing he could never love her as she did him, all the pain inflicted her by the cruel men that night, all of this pain fused together, and Vaden Valmont knew she would never thereafter be the identical person she had been. In an instant, the naïveté of youth was stripped from her soul, and she knew true, painful heartache and disappointment—true fear. Vaden Valmont had changed.
As the wagon stopped before her uncle’s house, Myra and Yvonne dashed out of the door and into the street. Ransom Lake lifted Vaden, whose heart was now heavy with hurt, cruel treatment, and loss, down from the wagon. As Myra took her lovingly into her arms, Vaden felt nothing. Nothing but the lack of her own caring.
“Land’s sake, child! What happened?” Myra gasped at viewing her niece in such an obviously traumatized state.
“We only meant it as a prank, Mrs. Valmont. I swear it,” Nathaniel began to explain. His efforts in defending himself were in vain when Ransom Lake reached up with one powerful hand, took hold of the young man’s shirt, and, pulling him from the wagon, threw him to the ground.
Ransom Lake moved quickly to Vaden, took her face in his hands, and spoke to her directly as his stormy-colored eyes pierced her own.
“Let this go, Miss Vaden. All of it! Don’t linger on it. It will only destroy your spirit if ya don’t let it go.” Then he untied his horse from the wagon and walked to where Nathaniel still lay on the ground, trying to regain his breath.
“Ya tell your folks about this, boy. You do it…’cause if I have to come to your house to tell them, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep from beatin’ ya into your own grave! Do ya hear me?” Nathaniel only glared at Ransom Lake. Yvonne and Myra gasped as Ransom Lake’s boot met Nathaniel’s midsection with brutal force. “You hear me now, don’t ya, boy?” he asked.
Nathaniel doubled over, clutching his stomach, and nodded.
“What happened, Ransom?” Myra asked the man standing before her, angry still and yet ready to take his leave.
“They had her nailed up in a coffin out by the grove of elms east of town, Myra,” he explained bluntly. “They had her mouth gagged, her arms bound to her sides, and her feet tied…all the while she was lyin’ in a pine box with them tellin’ her they were gonna bury her alive.”
Myra gasped and shook her head, horror at the thought piercing her heart. “Vaden! Honey! Are you all right?”
“They threw a blanket over my head when I was walking home. Then they took me out there…tied me up,” Vaden stated bluntly, her voice void of emotion.
“They should be whipped near to death, Myra. Jailed up in the least. But I suppose all they’ll get is a good talkin’ to,” Ransom Lake mumbled. He swallowed hard and dropped his head for a moment before straightening his shoulders and looking directly at Myra. “There’s…there’s somethin’ else I think ya should know, Myra. Where I’m concerned, I mean. Concernin’ my own behavior tonight. I suppose that really I don’t have any right to be beatin’ this boy around after what I myself have done where your niece is concerned.”
Vaden looked to her aunt.
Myra’s frown deepened. “What are ya tryin’ to say, Ransom?” she asked. She was tentative in her question, as if she feared the answer.
“Well, I…Myra, I…” he stammered.
“It’s obvious, Auntie!” Yvonne interrupted. “He’s feeling bad about not being properly dressed, can’t you see?” Vaden glanced at her sister. “Isn’t that it, Vaden?” Yvonne prodded.
Vaden wondered why Yvonne would defend Ransom Lake so.
“Yes. He did have his arms around me on the way home, Auntie,” Vaden confirmed. “It was so terribly cold. He only meant to keep me warm.”
Ransom Lake looked at her, a frown of disbelief puckering his brow. “But, Myra, I…” he stammered, unable to find his words, for the emotion of surprise seemingly stifled his thoughts.
“For pity’s sake, Ransom Lake!” Myra exclaimed, throwing her arms around the man and hugging him gratefully. “Do ya honestly think that would worry us at a time like this?”
“Myra, I—”he began, but Vaden stepped between him and her aunt and met his confused gaze.
“Thank you, Mr. Lake, for…for coming for me this evening.” And having thanked Ransom Lake for the last time she intended, she turned and entered the house, a worried Yvonne following closely at her heels.
“Thank ya, Ransom,” Myra whispered. “Thank ya so much. How did ya know? When ya came here…how did ya know?”
Vaden paused just inside the house and listened, for she too still wondered at how the man knew where to look for her.
“I guessed who might be up to no good tonight and where they might be at it,” he mumbled as he mounted his horse.
For one instant, Vaden nearly turned to rush to him, to plead with him to stay with her, to hold her safely in his arms again. But now even the zealous Vaden Valmont wouldn’t dare to do that, for she had changed in that one late hour. She had changed. Vaden Valmont would never see the world as sweetly rosy and wonderful again. Tragedy, violence, cruelty, and severe, unhealable heartache had irreversibly wounded her this night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Vaden stood at her bedroom window, staring out but looking at nothing. She didn’t think of the beauty of the white, frosty flakes of snow floating through the air during the soft flurry occurring outside. She didn’t evoke a line of lovely poetry from her memory to recite in their honor. She didn’t think of their beauty because she didn’t see their beauty. She didn’t see anything as she stared silently out. She didn’t see the Wimber children run past on their way into the mercantile to ask if their beloved Miss Vaden could tell a story. She didn’t hear their disappointed groans as Myra sent them away with a, “She’s not herself today children.” She didn’t care if the trees had lost their leaves, their branches flocked in glistening frost. She didn’t care whether her Aunt Myra had made a heavenly apple pie for dessert. She didn’t care if Yvonne thought her ignorant, didn’t care if her Uncle Dan wore a perpetual frown of worry on his face on her behalf. She didn’t care that Jerome Clayton dropped into the mercantile four different times that da
y to ask Yvonne how Vaden was faring. And although she heard Ransom Lake’s voice drifting down the hall from her aunt’s parlor as even he inquired about her well-being, she was too stunned, still too unbelieving of what had happened three nights before, too filled with heartbreak to sneak into the hall and have a peek at he who was such a wondrous attraction.
For there was an inner struggle to face a new day, to breathe, to find the radiant love of life again battling within Vaden Valmont. The horrors that could be in the world had touched her—damaged her emotions and mind. That people could think to be so cruel to another person and then to find humor, amusement, in someone’s terror was beyond comprehension to her. Vaden, who had always seen the shiny side of the coin, who had always seen the beauty in the world and the good in people, now found herself struggling to find any beauty, any good. Vaden, who had believed that true and destined love could be hers, had been shown that it could not. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone for three days. She’d said yes and no when it was absolutely necessary but no other verbal indications. Her smile had faded, and the sparkle of delight in life had dulled and was gone from her beautiful eyes.
“Ransom Lake is here to inquire about you, Vay,” Yvonne whispered as she entered the room. “Surely you’ll come out for him.”
Vaden only continued to stare out the window, for not only was she facing heartbreak where Ransom Lake was concerned but it seemed the only emotion left to her, felt by her, was humiliation. And she felt it deeply each time she thought of her attempt at capturing the man for her own that night in the wagon bed. How could she ever face him again? What he must think of her!
Yvonne sighed and began wringing her hands mercilessly. She worried desperately for her sister. She even blamed herself, feeling that somehow her constant nagging at Vaden to see reality in the world had caused this to happen to her precious sister—to squelch that delighted joy in life Vaden possessed and spread to everyone who knew her. “Come on, Vay. We could hurry and get you dressed. I mean, he did rescue you from…oh, Vay, won’t you even come out to see Mr. Lake?”
The Visions of Ransom Lake Page 15
