Dipping his head, he traced a hot circle around her nipple with his tongue. She bit her lip, stifling the cry that exploded from her throat. The mysterious place between her legs went damp at his ministrations. With a gentle nip, he abandoned the right breast for the left. The gown gathered at her hips and Jonah tugged until it puddled around her feet.
A whimper of protest left her when he straightened. Surely tonight he wouldn’t turn her away, wouldn’t change his mind like last time. Not when the air was filled with want and the need for satisfaction.
The loose trousers slipped down his hips. He slid the material down his muscular thighs. His manhood rose proud and thick against a nest of hair. She was grateful the low light couldn’t reveal the color flooding her face.
Bridgit had seen her younger brothers naked plenty of times. However, this was a man, a well-formed one, if she was any judge. It seemed a shame to cover him with clothes. Muscles flexed and bulged when he moved. He was breathtaking. A dark Adonis swathed in shadows and moonbeams.
She closed her eyes as his fingers brushed skin that hadn’t experienced the touch of a man. It wasn’t frightening. All her life she’d been called pretty and pleasant to look at. The creature Jonah awakened knew it was true.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
She obeyed. The lusty temptress in her returned his gaze. He lowered her to the bed, leaning over her as his fingers stroked her flat stomach. They traveled to the mound covered by hair.
Soft strokes over her folds warmed her flesh. She opened with little persuasion. He gently explored the crevices of her most private places. One finger slipped down to probe her moist opening. It entered with a slow, deliberate stroke, drew back and plunged deeper. The caress made her body sing. Her hips moved as he caressed her. An involuntary moan of desire left her throat. His mouth found her breast and his tongue teased her nipple again. She pushed her fingers through his thick hair none too gently as his finger glided in and out.
The Earth shattered when he touched the delicate nub of flesh she’d largely ignored her whole life. Slow, torturous circles made her cry out. A shudder of pleasure ran down her spine as he quickened the pace. When she thought she’d die of the pleasure, he rose over her and urged her legs wider. The hard rod slipped inside her wetness, pushing deep inside her.
She bit her lip, determined not to cry out at the pain. Her fingernails scored his shoulders.
He froze, meeting her eyes. “A virgin.”
She nodded, afraid he’d retreat again, shifted beneath him, adjusting to his size.
“You’re so tight,” he murmured, “I’ve hurt you.”
“Please don’t leave. I want this. Want you.”
She gripped his shoulders. As though he hadn’t realized his error, he moved. The wonderful ache that filled her before awakened again. Desperate for his kisses, she raised her head and sought his lips. Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled his pelvic bone against hers, inviting him deeper. His tongue probed her mouth, increasing the urgency. Bright, hot waves of pleasure engulfed her. Nothing would ever satisfy her as much as making love with this man.
He thrust against her hard and then with a tremor, released his seed. His weight vanished and he was beside her, gathering her close. Their bodies fit against each other comfortably. Bridgit felt secure for the first time in two years. The warmth of their lovemaking glowed through her. A nagging voice inside her head said she should feel shame, giving away her virginity like a harlot. She shoved it aside as Jonah splayed his hand over her abdomen.
“You might have mentioned you were a virgin.” His voice was low and gruff.
“Would it have mattered?” She feared he’d leave, his appetite satisfied. She wanted him to stay.
“It might have.”
“Too late now,” she answered, feeling the stickiness between her thighs.
He rubbed her stomach. Perhaps he felt no guilt. She didn’t expect him to love her, but she was relieved to know he desired her.
“It hurt you,” he pointed out.
“But it won’t next time.” If her mother was truthful. She had no reason to doubt her mother’s word.
“Would you have me come to you again?” His breath was warm against her neck, sending a shiver of delight through her.
“Aye.” There was nothing gained from lying.
“What will you tell your husband on your wedding night when the sheets are spotless?”
A question she would rather avoid. “No one expects a convict to come to the marriage bed an innocent.”
Deep down, she mourned the truth of her words. He’d awoken something in her, a wanton who feared she’d never find another man to bring her to the edge the way he did.
10
Virgins were meant to be tamed with pretty words of love, coaxed to the bed on wedding nights. Not taken in the heat of the moment and cast aside like an old plaything. He’d ruined that for her. Bridgit curled in Jonah’s arms like an innocent child, her breath slow and steady.
Her hair tickled his chest, soft as flower petals. She smelled like a rose in full bloom. The floral scent mingled with the musty smell of sex. The cotton sheet slipped below her breasts, conforming along the dip and swell of her hip. Looking at her, Jonah hardened again, though he wouldn’t wake her with his wanting. Taking in her pale beauty was enough for now.
He was pleased she’d been responsive. She didn’t shy away or cry about the pain. But she never complained about anything. A rare find, this Irish flower. His intentions to keep his distance had fallen into ruin. Still he couldn’t figure out why. He’d never bedded Polly, the former maid. Something was different about Bridgit.
He needed to leave well before the sun rose. Staying in her bed would cause too many complications. He knew her, the whole sad story of her life, the feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingers, the way her body fit against his. The relationship didn’t need the complication of emotional attachments. He couldn’t afford the price of a woman in his bed.
“Sleep well, Bridgit.”
As he slipped out of bed, she protested with a little moan. For a second, his fingers lingered on her face, then brushed across her lips. She slept on.
The success of Laurie Lark depended on his focus and dedication. Not on a convict who captivated him with her beauty inside and out.
* * * *
Before she opened her eyes, Bridgit sensed Jonah’s absence. She hadn’t expected him to stay, not the entire night. The lord and master of Laurie Lark likely had more important things to tend than the woman who’d beckoned him to her bed.
A strange soreness gripped her nether regions, but she hoped a day’s work would ease her discomfort. She scooted to the edge of the bed, clutching the sheet against her chest. Jonah’s scent clung to the fabric, lingering like a pleasant dream.
She’d given him permission to return any night he liked. Heat warmed her face, but she wasn’t sorry. It would get better–she’d become bolder. Each time would be a slice of pleasure. Memories to keep her company during the lonely nights that would come when she returned to the Factory.
Dread replaced the pleased glow coursing through her. What would happen when he secured a permanent nurse for Olivia? The future looked bleak without Jonah and Olivia Andrus.
She rose and stared at the rusty stain spotting the bed sheets. Virginal blood. Saints, what would Farjana say when she saw it? She tore the sheet off the bed, stuffing it between the mattress and bed frame. After dressing with haste, she drew out clean bedclothes from the linen closet. No one needed to know of her nightly escapades.
The bed looked unnatural as she straightened the covers and stepped away. Perhaps it was her eyes. She’d lie and let Farjana think she’d already placed her sheets in the laundry pile for the week. Satisfied with her work, she heard Olivia stirring. Her charge was ready to begin the day.
Jonah sat at the breakfast table, eating a fried egg with surgical precision. He glanced up at Bridgit’s entrance and returned to his meal.
“G
ood morning, sir.”
“Morning,” he answered.
He seemed fascinated with his breakfast.
“Is Martha out feeding the jackaroos?”
His eyes stayed trained on the eggs. “She didn’t come today. Millicent’s here instead.”
“Millicent?”
Jonah lifted his teacup. “Her daughter.”
Bridgit frowned. “I wasn’t aware she had a daughter. Did she say Martha is feeling poorly?”
He shrugged and speared a slice of ham. “One can never tell with Martha. Millicent is a fair cook. Unless Martha finds someone to marry the poor girl, Millicent will end up employed here.”
“Are you angry, Jonah?”
At the sound of his name, he looked up, giving her his full attention. “Angry?”
“Aye. You seem tense.”
A faint smile flitted across his face. “Martha has long tried to persuade me to marry Millicent. I expect this is a ploy to put the girl in my good graces.”
“You don’t fancy her?”
His gaze ran over her. “You’ll understand when you meet her.”
“I’m sure she’s a beautiful person on the inside.” A man with an empire at his fingertips could afford to be picky when it came to his bride, but people without the benefit of good looks deserved the same chances as everyone else.
“That’s not quite what I mean. She’s only slightly better tempered than her mother. God rest her father’s soul. The man was a saint for putting up with Martha for thirty years.”
Taking advantage of the moment, she sat across from him. “I enjoyed your company last night.”
He choked, coughing until he’d cleared his windpipe. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he stared at her. “Not my usual breakfast conversation.”
She wasn’t chastised by his tone, but smiled innocently. “Forgive me.”
He caught her hand. “You’ve no qualms about being my lover?”
Excitement raced through her body. She couldn’t speak. Wetting her lips, she shook her head.
“Every move you make seems earnest, unplanned, but each of them makes me think of the way you writhed beneath me last night. I want to take you upstairs this second and undo each of those buttons.” His free hand lighted on the bottom most one, tracing the outer edge of it. Beneath her dress, her flesh pebbled with anticipation of his touch.
“I have chores,” she whispered, nearly breathless.
He raised her hand and kissed the back of it. “I won’t keep you.”
He’d called her his lover, not a whore or harlot.
She struggled to hold back her excitement. “It’s still Olivia first, mind you. What happens between us can’t interfere with my duties.”
“You are her nurse. What goes on between us won’t interfere with her.”
She smiled, dizzy with the prospect of making love with Jonah again. “Then I have a goat to milk and no time to tarry with my lover.”
* * * *
The nanny goat, a large specimen borrowed from Natty and Bess, wasn’t like any Bridgit had ever seen. Brown and black with large, droopy ears and a spectacular set of horns perched on her head, she bossed around the other animals. Even Rupert’s dog, Old Nell, wouldn’t approach the creature.
This morning Nanny grazed beside one of Jonah’s colts. The nanny came and went as she pleased, slipping through the paddock rails with ease. The horse didn’t appear distressed by its presence, but Bridgit would’ve preferred the goat be anywhere except around the horses. Her knowledge of farm animals went as far as seeing them laid out in the butcher’s shop or sold at auctions. Farjana made catching and milking the creature look easy.
“Come along, Nanny. We’ve got to get you milked and then you’re free to wander about as usual.”
A bleat left its throat and the tail flipped a few times, but it otherwise ignored her. The horse's tail swished in vain at the circling flies.
A week of this nonsense and she was tired of the game. Every step that brought her closer, the goat took four more away. Merry bleating filled the air. Nanny stared at her through odd rectangle pupils and curled its upper lip.
The naughty animal was laughing at her. Flummoxed, Bridgit stared. The goat trotted around the enclosure, stopped near the horse and chewed a leaf.
The horse took notice of the chase. His ears perked up and head bobbed as if he approved of the goat’s escape methods.
Hands on her hips, Bridgit glared at the pair.
“Olivia is hungry. That’s enough of this silliness. I suggest you come here at once before I...” Talking to a goat. All she needed was for one of the jackaroos to hear.
Determined not to be made a fool of by a four-legged animal, she took slow steps, hoping to corner it. Nanny edged closer to the horse. The colt laid his ears back.
“I know, Nanny makes me angry too,” she whispered.
The goat, which likely outweighed her, didn’t compare to the size of the horse. The colt didn’t appear to care for either of them. Or maybe he was taking the nanny’s side.
“I just need to grab her rope and I’ll be on my–” Bridgit shrieked as the horse charged at her.
Her boot caught the hem of her skirt. Arms flailing, she struggled to regain her balance, but landed in a tangle of skirts. Covering her head with her hands, she waited for the angry horse to strike.
Nothing happened. An insect buzzed near her ear, and the goat bleated again. Except for the distant chatter of jackaroos, the air was still.
“What are you about, miss?”
At the voice, she raised her head. One of the jackaroos stood outside the fence, looking baffled. Mortified, she risked a glance at the two animals that caused her folly. Both stood on the far side of the pen, peering at her innocently.
“That wicked goat told the horse to attack me.” The words sounded absurd, but it was too late to call them back.
He climbed through the fence and helped her up. She saw him fighting a smile. How dare he laugh when she might’ve been killed? But the annoyance was more at herself than him. He wouldn’t have reason to laugh if she’d been more careful.
“Are you alright?”
“Never better.”
“I wouldn’t recommend upsettin’ the colt. He’s due to race next week. Jonah’ll be more than a mite angry if somethin’ happens to him.”
“Of course. With no thought about his convict woman.” Even the animals on the station held higher ranks than she.
“I didn’t mean...” He looked sheepish. “I’ll catch her for you. Devilish thing, that nanny.”
Raising her chin, she glared at the goat. “I don’t need help.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, miss, I’d say you do. It won’t take a blink.”
She studied him as he cornered the nanny. Not as tall as Jonah, but built every bit as solid, he moved with ease over the ground. A hint of gray started in his dark blond hair. With face tanned and lined from the sun, he appeared a few years older than her employer.
He snatched the goat’s rope like a dog after a bone. The nanny trotted after him, meek as a lamb. The colt never batted an eye.
A smile lit his face and eyes. Gray eyes, like the haze hanging over the Blue Mountains. “Here she is. I’ve seen you strugglin’ with her before. I’ll catch her anytime you want.”
She took the rope and tugged the goat closer. “Thank you. I’m sorry for being snappish.”
“Anyone would be, given the temperament of that goat. I’ll be glad when Bess leads it home. Right about the time I fall asleep at night, she rubs those horns against the bunkhouse. Causes an awful racket.” He offered his hand. “Phillip Banner, miss.”
She accepted. His hand was callused, rough against her own. The grip was firm, but not too tight. “Bridgit.”
“At your service. Any time, day or night.” He winked and walked away.
No wonder Jonah had warned her away from the bunkhouse. If all the jackaroos were so helpful and handsome, they’d set her heart aflutter. Though
if the two stood side by side, she felt certain she’d have eyes for only Jonah.
Nanny bleated and pranced, her heavy udders swaying.
“Rascal of goat.”
By his wink, if she hadn’t known better, she’d guess the goat and the jackaroo planned the whole thing.
11
Millicent’s twin dimples appeared as she smiled. “I’m looking forward to next week. Will you need help with the cooking and setting up again this year?”
Jonah shifted. He hadn’t thought much about the annual party held at Laurie Lark. A tradition started by his parents to celebrate the oncoming summer and their marriage, it involved three days worth of activities. A casual supper on the first night welcomed the guests, horse races were held the second day, a dance after, and a formal supper the third night. Charlotte had planned the event with gusto. The most he’d ever done was set up tables and slaughter a steer. Was a week too late to back out of the party? It didn’t seem like there was much to celebrate this year.
“It’s likely I will. Without Charlotte supervising the kitchen, I need someone who knows what she’s doing.”
Millicent flushed with apparent pleasure. “Your parties are always such fun. My favorite part is the dancing. I’ll save one for you, if you don’t think you’ll be busy overseeing everything.”
Uncomfortable with her less than subtle hints, he struggled for an excuse. Nothing came to mind. “Right. I suppose it depends on how everything goes.”
The flirtatious smile turned serious. “Have you found a nurse for Olivia yet? Mother said the convict you hired can’t be trusted.”
He frowned at her. It shouldn’t surprise him that Martha had poisoned her daughter against Bridgit.
“I haven’t seen any evidence she’s untrustworthy. I’m pleased with her work ethic. Thomas hasn’t sent me any word about a nurse. I may hear something by next week, though.”
Millicent made a sour face as she digested his words. “That’s not what Mother says. I can’t tell a thing has been done. Are you sure she works while you’re out?”
The Convict and the Cattleman Page 8
