Their bodies joined, Bridget strained to move her hips in time with his. The fever in her blood began to race again. As he slid in and out of her, she felt his breath against her cheek, shallow and harsh.
Just when she knew she couldn't stand another minute of the unsatisfied need, something inside of her burst, sending sparks of pleasure through her. Her body convulsed around him, and she opened her eyes wide in surprise.
In the hazy glow of the lamplight she watched with pleasure as Jacob threw his head back, screwed his eyes tightly shut, and groaned as he joined her in release.
#
Bridget stretched languorously, then cuddled back against Jacob's side. Her head on his shoulder, she smoothed her right hand across his bare chest as she asked softly, “Is it always like that, Jacob? Does everyone feel so…”
“No.” His left arm behind his head, Jacob moved his right hand up and down the length of her. Does everyone experience what they'd just shared? If she only knew how rare this feeling was. But how could he explain that to a woman who'd known only the joy of lovemaking and none of the pain that could be had?
She kissed his chest, and his muscles contracted. Just the touch of her was enough to inflame him again. He'd never known anything like what he'd just been through. Desire, satisfaction, release… none of those words would describe it. Unconsciously he stiffened slightly as he thought of the one word that would explain everything.
Love.
No. He closed his eyes against the thought.
"Jacob?”
"What?” His voice was hard, even to his ears.
She leaned her head back to look at him. "What is it, Jacob?"
“Nothing, nothing." Once again his hand moved along her spine, and he wished her into silence. It didn't work.
"Ah." Bridget pushed against his chest to lever herself up. Watching him carefully, she asked, "I'm bein' stupid, aren't I? It wasn't… for you… like what I felt.”
He forced a smile and gently pushed her head back down to his chest. He found he missed the feeling of her flesh against his.
"No, Bridget, you're not being stupid. What we both felt was… wonderful. It's only that –“
"So. You're sorry now, is that it?" Her voice was muffled slightly when she interrupted. He had to strain to hear.
"Lord, no." He pulled her up close and kissed the top of her head. “Whatever happens between us, Bridget, I'll never be sorry."
She wrapped her arm around his chest.
"And you?'
"Well," she said grinning, "if I had the slightest bit of shame, I suppose I would be." She tilted her head back to look at him. “But I must surely be a brazen creature, Jacob, for God's truth, I'm not one bit sorry."
"I'm glad." He closed his eyes again.
"Jacob," she asked, twirling the short curly hair of his chest around her finger.
"What is it, Bridget?" He didn't have the strength to laugh, but she was certainly the most talkative woman he'd ever bedded.
"If you're not sorry for what happened, are you feelin' a little bad about… I mean, are you missin'… Helene?"
“What?” His eyes flew open to stare at her. What kind of question was that to pose at a time like this?
Bridget propped herself up on one elbow. “Well, it's only that, if you were, well, then, I could surely understand that.”
He dropped his hand from her back. Everything always came back to Helene. No matter how he tried, no matter the distance between him and their old home, Helene, or at least the memory of her, was never far away. "No, Bridget I do not miss my wife."
She blinked at his tone. Every inch of him looked to be carved out of solid stone. His wonderful mouth was hard, his lips thinned. His eyes, filled with tenderness only moments before, were now flinty hard. An odd reaction to the mention of his wife's name. Of course, Bridget thought, perhaps now hadn't been the best possible time to bring her up, either.
Still, better now than not at all. She simply had to know what his feelings were for the late Mrs. Fallon.
"You don't? You're not still in love with her?"
He laughed shortly. A quiet, mirthless laugh that brought chills to Bridget's spine.
“Love? Helene?” He took a deep, shuddering breath and added, "I never loved Helene. In fact, by the time she died, I hated her."
Bridget's eyes widened at the venom in his voice. This was the one thing she hadn't expected to hear. Yet somehow, with all she knew about the woman, she wasn't completely surprised.
"I've already told you how Helene died," he said softly.
"Yes. Yes, you did. Jacob, you don't have to say another word." She laid her palm flat on his chest. His heart was pounding. "'Twas none of my business to ask."
He shifted his gaze to her and watched her steadily for a long moment Bridget wished heartily she could read his thoughts. As she watched him, he seemed to close himself off and wrap himself in memories. Then he began speaking in a soft rush of words.
"Helene and I married because our families expected it. I'd been told from the time I was a boy that it was my duty to marry her and join our two land holdings into the biggest one-family operation in Illinois. By the time I was eighteen I'd been spoon-fed family duty and responsibility until I truly believed that was all that mattered – that Helene and I were destined to be together.
"But before I settled down permanently, I wanted to see a little of the world. So I took a horse and some provisions and went West.” Jacob smiled softly at the recollection. "An adventure. And what an adventure. I saw country I'd only read about. Met people who created their own destinies, made their own choices. For the first time in my life, I was truly on my own, and I found that I enjoyed it." He quirked his lips in a self-mocking smile. “Then my father summoned me home. It was time to do my duty to my family, settle down, and start the next generation of Fallons."
Bridget stifled a sympathetic moan at the bitterness in his voice, and she once again squeezed his arm. This time his fingers closed around hers, and he held on as though his life depended on it.
"In the five years since I'd seen Helene, she'd become a beautiful woman. Polished, poised, a graceful lady with a body that promised a husband many things. We were married, and on our wedding night I learned what being alone really was." He tightened his fingers around her hand. "Oh, she allowed me my 'rights.' She was very accommodating. She lay still and silent, her cold beauty hard beneath my touch. I foolishly assumed that she was merely frightened."
Bridget silently gripped his hand, knowing instinctively how badly he needed to say all these things, but her mind worked furiously, heaping curses on the head of the woman who'd done so much damage to Jacob and his child.
"And was she? Frightened, I mean?" Bridget whispered.
“No.” Jacob chuckled softly. "She simply couldn't bear my touch." He kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he finished. "Oh, she allowed me into her chamber until she became pregnant with Jessica. Then she informed me that she had assured me of an heir and that I could take my lust elsewhere. All she expected of me after that was to pay her bills and to present the proper portrait of happiness in public."
"Holy Mother!" Bridget couldn't swallow her comment in time.
"There was nothing 'holy' about my dear wife, I'm afraid. Anyway, Jessica was born, the families were pleased… and I joined the army." Jacob finally looked at her, and his lips quirked slightly as he added, "Believe me, Bridget, General Lee and the Confederate Army were welcome adversaries. At least I knew how to fight them."
She reached up and laid a hand against his cheek. He cupped her hand with his and kissed the palm.
“Then, with Helene dead and the war over, I could finally leave it all behind. Though I thought at the time it was entirely for Jessica's sake, I know now that I couldn't bear the idea of spending the rest of my life hearing family and friends constantly harping on Helene's bravery."
Well, she told herself, since we're bein' so honest here, you might as well tell him what
your opinion is. She took a deep breath and said, "Malarkey."
"What did you say?"
Bridget propped herself up again and looked him square in the eye. "I said malarkey. All that business about how brave your foolish wife was. I don't call it brave to kill yourself, leavin' a child behind at the mercy of men you know will harm her!"
"Bridget –“
"No. No." She held up her hand. "Let me finish. You say you hated her. Well, I can't rightly blame you – the woman sounds like a bitch of the first water."
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
"Although hatin' her will only do you harm. But I must admit, I'd like her here in front of me for just a few minutes. I'd show her what I think of her bravery." She leaned in closer to him and laid a quick kiss on his mouth. "And as for the other… well, Jacob, I can only say, the woman was not only a bitch, but bloody well stupid if she didn't have the sense to appreciate what you can do with a single touch."
Jacob grinned and Bridget sighed, relieved to see it. "I can see I'll be sorry I said that. There'll be no livin' with you now."
He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over onto her back. Just before he lowered his mouth to hers, he asked, "Shall we test your theory, Bridget?"
His hand skimmed over her body, and she arched her hips to meet his questing fingers. "Ah, Jacob, why don't we do that?"
#
Harry Longdon sat on the rumpled bed in his tiny cabin and smiled down at the fistful of bills he held. Only a few days aboard the riverboat, and already he'd made quite a tidy sum at the nightly poker games.
And to think he'd complained about the time he would be wasting floating upriver. He shook his head and reached for the whiskey bottle on the table beside him. Harry pulled the cork free, tossed it carelessly across the room, and took a long swallow of the foul-smelling liquid. Then he leaned back against the wall, removed the remaining ace from his sleeve, and laid it across the pile of money.
He took another drink and chuckled, already planning the next day's winnings. By the time he caught up with Bridget Dugan, he'd be a rich man.
#
Jacob hadn't said a word. Bridget filled his coffee cup again and gave Jessica another biscuit. It wasn't as though she'd expected soft words and loving looks from the man, but was a simple conversation too much to ask? This uneasy silence between them had lasted since the middle of the night, when Jacob left her room to return to his own bed.
Of course, Bridget understood why he'd done that. He simply didn't want Jessica to find them together in the morning. Still, she thought sadly, his leaving had taken some of the wondrous magic from their encounter, making the whole thing seem a little shabby in the light of day.
"Can I go outside?” Jessica's soft voice shattered the silence as effectively as a shout.
"No," Jacob said.
"Yes," Bridget answered at the same time.
They looked at each other in surprise.
"She can't go out alone, Bridget."
"Jacob, she's not goin' anywhere but right out the door."
His eyes narrowed. "You don't know that, she could wander off."
"She won't wander off if I tell her not to." Bridget shifted her glance to the child, who was looking from one to the other of them. "Will you, Jessie?"
The girl solemnly shook her head.
"You see?"
Jacob frowned, but Bridget ignored him.
"Go on, darlin'. But stay close to the cabin now."
Jessica scooted off her chair and made for the door. Her father's voice stopped her.
"At least wear a coat. It's still cold in the morning."
The little girl grabbed her coat and slipped through the back door before he could change his mind. Jacob turned a frosty glance on Bridget. “I don't appreciate you arguing with me in front of Jessica."
Bridget sighed and reached for the coffeepot. "Jacob, I said I would look out for her as if she were my own. I am."
"Yes, well…" Jacob stopped.
She mumbled something.
Finally he asked. "What did you say?”
She turned her green eyes on him. “Something me mum used to say, is all."
He laid both hands, palm down, on the table. “What is this one?”
She took a sip of the steaming coffee before saying, "Marriages are all happy. It's having breakfast together that causes all the trouble."
His eyebrows shot straight up. "Marriages?”
"Ah, don't get so bothered, man. It's only a manner of speakin'.” She waved a hand at him. "But there's more truth to it than you'd like to think, isn't there?”
He pushed away from the table and stood up. "Maybe we should talk about what happened last night, Bridget."
"No, Jacob." She looked up at him and shook her head slowly. "I don't think we should. I think we should leave last night alone. It'll do no good now to go dancin' over something we can't change."
He stiffened slightly, nodded, and turned for the front door. As he shoved his arms through the sleeves of his coat, he said quietly, "Under the bed" – he jerked his bead toward the rope bed in the corner of the main room – “there's a package. It's for you."
Then he opened the door, stepped outside, and pulled it closed behind him. Bridget sat very still for a moment longer, then stood and crossed the room to the bed. She pulled the package from the shadows and realized it was the paper-wrapped parcel she'd seen him with the day of their arrival.
Bridget sat on the edge of Jacob’s bed, the package in her lap. Her fingers toyed with the twine as she glanced out the window to see Jessica, sitting in the dirt, completely caught up in some imaginary game.
The plain, heavy brown paper rustled as she slowly tugged the knotted twine free. She took her time with the package, fighting back the surge of childish pleasure she felt. It had been a long time since she'd received a gift. Truly, she couldn't remember the last time. When you must work every hour of every day just to buy food and pay the rent, there wasn't much left for presents.
"Oooh," she murmured softly as she pulled the black coat from its wrappings. She held the calf-length coat before her as she stood up. It was made of a fine, heavy material with some kind of fur around the wide collar and lining the slash pockets on either side. Obviously meant for a man, it was a little big, but Bridget knew she could deal with that easily enough.
She held the coat tightly and crossed the room to the square shaving mirror nailed above the washbasin. She stared at her reflection and saw the flush on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. Jacob's gift almost made up for the warmth that had been so lacking between them that morning.
Then a small, niggling doubt crept into her mind, bringing a worried furrow to her brow. She remembered the warning her mother had repeated to her so often.
Holding the coat out at arm's length from her, Bridget stared at it while Rose Dugan's voice echoed softly in her mind
"Take gifts with a sigh… most men give to be paid."
Chapter Thirteen
Bridget glanced down at her nice, new coat, brushed the front of it unnecessarily, and smiled at the little girl standing beside her.
"Well, now, Jessie. Shall we step inside and see what we can find?”
Jessica nodded but clung to Bridget's skirt as the woman pulled the general store's door wide open. MacElroy's store, its windows tightly shut, was warm and held a mixed aroma of coffee, leather goods, and stale tobacco smoke.
Bridget walked to the center of the room and stopped. Jessica hurried unerringly to the row of glass candy jars sitting on the counter. There were several customers ahead of her, so Bridget took the time to look around, amazed at the wide array of merchandise.
Every shelf in the building was overflowing with an odd assortment of necessities and luxuries. There were pots and pans next to pickaxes, ladies' hair ribbons next to rubber boots, even a peach-colored, ruffled parasol hanging beside a carved leather holster and pistol. Shirts and pants were piled in cubbyholes alongs
ide bolts of fabric, fancy clocks and fine china sat proudly beside plain tin utensils, and a huge copper bathtub, now filled with sacks of coffee, sat in the center of the store, sharing space with the heating stove.
Bridget's mouth hung open like a child's at Christmas. She'd have liked nothing better than to spend the rest of the day rooting through the treasures the store held. Hesitantly she ran her hand over a bolt of forest green fabric and wished for a moment that she could spare the money to buy a dress length for herself. Lord knew, the clothes she did have were wearing pretty thin. Even the two dresses she'd bought with Eamon's money before leaving St. Louis had long since lost their freshness.
She sighed softly and pulled her hand away. It did no good to wish for things you couldn't have.
Whispered voices behind her caught her attention, and she turned around. The woman behind the counter and a grizzled-looking customer immediately looked away from her and went on with their business. Bridget shook her head and wandered again. She was getting used to the stares directed at her by all the miners in town, but this was something different. As she walked around the store, she felt the two people's eyes on her and fought down a crawling sensation.
"Mornin', ma'am.”
Surprised, Bridget looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes that reflected the smile on the stranger's lips. Tall and lanky, he wore a beat-up bat with a wide brim, and his shirt pocket was torn and hanging loose. Beside the flapping fabric there was a shiny silver star. The deputy.
Bridget swallowed her uneasiness. He was only bein' friendly, she told herself. Besides, it was ridiculous to be shaken by a deputy when you're livin' with a marshal.
"Good mornin’, Deputy," she returned and continued her stroll around the store.
He fell into step beside her. “Fine day, ain't it?”
“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jessica, still staring in awe at the candy.
“My name's Cotton Drake, ma'am, and I'm right pleased to meet ya." While he spoke, he stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop and look at him.
Bridget tilted her head back and immediately relaxed. There was absolutely nothing threatening about Cotton Drake. He had a warm, open face with kind eyes and a friendly smile.
Mountain Dawn Page 16
