by Lisa Gregory
Her hand slid up from his shoulder and curled around the back of his neck. His skin was tender there, soft against the hard bone and swelling musculature. He tightened; she could feel the muscles bunching beneath her hand and arm. Her fingertips brushed the soft edges of his hair. Sarah stared up into his eyes, a kind of challenge in her face. Once Luke would have answered the challenge by pressing her tightly against him and letting her feel the hard ridge of his desire. Once he might have pulled her from the dance floor into the darkness of the trees and kissed her until neither of them could think anymore.
But now he just continued to follow the steps, holding her the correct distance from him, and inside he grew tighter and tighter, like a clock wound up too far. Sarah saw the hunger in his face and felt the taut refusal of his body. She didn't understand it. Why was he torturing them both?
When the waltz was over, Luke stepped back from her, his breathing more labored than the dance warranted. "Sarah..."
"What?" She waited, her stomach beginning to knot in anticipation.
Luke drew a deep breath. "Nothing. Thank you for the dance."
"Luke." Sarah put her hands on his arms. Her touch was like fire to him. "Why won't you—"
"Sarah, please. Don't."
"I don't understand."
"I—would you mind if we left early tonight?"
"You don't want to dance?"
"Not anymore."
Sarah smiled dreamily. She thought she understood what he wanted. He didn't want to dance anymore because he wanted to be in bed with her.
Her smile went through him like a flood of molten iron, almost buckling his knees. He realized how foolish it was to run from the dance back to their home because he couldn't stand the beckoning sexuality of dancing with her. It was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. At home they would be alone together in bed.
"Of course," Sarah said in a low voice. "Shall I ask Jennifer or Julia to take the children home with them?"
For a moment Luke couldn't speak because of the desire surging in him. He thought of being alone in the house with Sarah, something that hadn't happened since Emily was born. He thought of being able to make love to her in any room, doors open. Erotic images twisted in his head.
"Luke?"
"What? Oh. No. Better not. We'd, uh, just have to drive back in tomorrow and get them. Take too much time from the fields."
"Oh. I guess you're right." Her voice dropped with disappointment.
Luke swallowed, trying to ease his dry throat. He wanted to lead Sarah to the far side of the park, in the black shadows, and take her, hard and fast, half their clothes still on. He wanted to see her face melt with pleasure, feel her tremble uncontrollably beneath his hands. He wanted to hear the breathy little moans she uttered as he drove her higher. He wanted his tongue in her mouth. God, how he wanted that.
"Let's go." He took her by the hand and hurried off the dance platform, walking as if he were being pursued. But the devils that chased him were deep inside.
Chapter 17
Julia watched Sarah and Luke dance, a smile playing on her lips. They were a handsome couple, and so much in love. Neither of them had looked anywhere but at each other while they danced. Julia hoped that meant that they had worked out whatever had been troubling them.
"Would you care to dance?"
Julia jumped, startled, and whirled. "James!"
"Julia."
She wished that just the sight of him didn't make her insides start to shake. Somehow, here in the warm darkness, they seemed much closer to the people they had been eleven years ago. "I thought you had gone home."
"I took Mother back to the house. She was getting tired. But I returned for the dance."
"I see." Then she would have the painful task of watching him dance with other women.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" She glanced up at him, confused.
"Would you care to dance with me?"
"Oh." Her heart skittered all over her chest. She didn't think she'd ever wanted anything as much. "Uh, yes. Yes, I'd like to."
James smiled and took her arm. The dress she wore had short puffed sleeves, and his fingers touched her bare skin.
She hoped he didn't feel the flood of heat that poured through her at his touch. They started toward the bandstand.
Halfway there they ran into Luke and Sarah. "Julia." Luke glanced awkwardly at Julia, then James, and back. "Uh, we'd decided to go home early. Would that be all right with you? I hate to make you leave the dance, but..."
"Oh." Julia struggled to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "No. That's fine."
James retained his hold on her arm. "Mrs. Dobson and I were just about to dance. I'll be happy to escort her home later, so that she can stay and enjoy the dancing."
Luke hesitated. He didn't want to leave Julia with Banks. But at the moment he felt torn in so many different directions, he couldn't think straight.
Sarah settled the issue for him. "Why, how nice! Then we won't have to spoil Julia's evening. Thank you."
"Yeah." Luke stared at the other man, his hard eyes reminding James that this time he wasn't dealing with an unprotected girl. "I'm sure you'll be very careful."
"Of course." Banks's voice was about as warm and friendly as Luke's. The two men nodded to each other, and James and Julia walked past them to the dance floor.
The fiddlers and guitarist were playing a slow, sad rune. A harmonica wailed. James drew Julia into his arms, and they began to move around the floor. Julia knew now to dance; Luke had taught her and he was probably the best dancer in the county. But in all the years since she had married Will Dobson, she had danced only once or twice, and she was afraid that she had forgotten how. But she hadn't. She moved easily in James's arms. He was a smooth dancer, and he held her exactly the proper distance from him. Julia knew with a certain amount of shame that she would have liked for him to hold her closer.
Julia looked up into James's face. She thought she could have gazed at him forever. The faint light highlighted the planes of his face and turned his eyes and hair dark as midnight. His mouth was firm and sharply etched. She remembered the feel of it against her lips two weeks ago, the hot lash of his tongue, the taste of him. Julia lowered her eyes, afraid he would read the desire there.
James was shaken by how good Julia felt in his arms. He hadn't known there could be such pleasure in simply dancing with a woman. "We never danced together."
Julia's head came up. There was a wealth of memories behind that statement, a reminder of all that they had done together. They stared at each other, suddenly awkward.
A hundred questions pushed up inside James. Why had she married Will Dobson? Had Julia ever loved him? Why had she thrown him over without even a word of explanation? Had every word, every sound of passion she'd uttered been a fake? He wanted to ask her. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she answered him. He wanted to spew out how much he had loved her, how he had hated her after she left, how his heart had been ripped out of him. He wanted to kiss her roughly, consumingly.
He looked away and so did she. "Perhaps—perhaps I ought to go now, after all," Julia murmured.
"No. Don't." He felt as if he would beg. "Stay for another dance."
She stayed for three more and danced them all with him. She would have liked to dance with him all night, but she knew she had pushed the limits for gossip with four dances with the same man. James knew that, too, and he didn't protest when she said she must sit down.
He walked her back to the table where her family had sat and took a seat on the bench beside her. Julia glanced down at the foot of the tree. Bonnie was sound asleep on a quilt beside Jennifer Harper's little boy. Julia smiled.
"Poor thing. I guess I better get her home." She stood up and looked around for Vance.
"All right." James stood with her.
She turned to him. "You don't have to take us home. We'll be fine."
"Walking alone at this time of
night? Don't be silly."
"Nothing will happen to me here."
"I'm seeing you home."
Julia couldn't suppress a warmth in her chest at bis adamant words. "All right. Thank you."
Julia saw Vance and signaled to him. She started to reach down and shake Bonnie awake, but James stopped her. "Don't do that. I'll carry her." He bent and lifted the little girl off the ground. Bonnie snuggled against his chest, sound asleep, and the sight of James carrying her child tilled Julia with tenderness.
He carried Bonnie to the buggy. Julia climbed into the from seat, and he laid the little girl in her arms. Vance hopped in beside her. James undamped the chain and weight that hung from the horse's harness to keep him in place, stowed them in the buggy, and climbed in. He picked up the reins and clicked to the horse, and they started off. It was a warm, damp night, softly seductive. The sky was black and very far away, the stars bright even here in town. The steady plop of the horse's hooves was lulling, and beside Julia, Vance drooped, his head sinking against her arm. Julia herself would have liked to lean her head against James's firm arm and rest. Forever.
When they reached the house, James carried Bonnie inside. Julia directed him to the girl's bedroom while Vance stumbled sleepily onto the screened-in porch, where he slept. They tucked Bonnie into bed. She slept soundly through the process. Julia looked up at James, sharing the intimacy of putting a child into bed. James laid his hand on Julia's back and slid it slowly down to her waist. Julia wanted to arch her body like a cat against his hand, but she suppressed the desire. She walked out of the room without looking at him.
James followed her. Julia went straight down the hall to the front door. She had to get him out of here. It was as if she must circumvent herself. She reached out to turn the doorknob. James laid his hand over hers, stopping her. Her fingers began to tremble beneath his, and she looked up at him. James's eyes were dark and intense. Julia couldn't move; she could only gaze at him.
His hand tightened on hers, and his other hand came up to her face. His fingers spread wide across her cheek. He leaned forward and kissed her. A long tremor ran through Julia, and she couldn't stop herself from kissing him back. Their tongues met and tangled. They kissed forever. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body into his.
He pulled his mouth away from hers and kissed her cheek and ears and neck. "So sweet," he mumbled, his voice thick with passion. "It's just like it was."
James lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. His hands cupped her face, holding it immobile. His eyes were fierce and compelling. "Do you remember that, Julia? Do you remember how it was between us? How good it felt, or was that only me?"
"Of course I remember!" She was amazed that he could think she wouldn't. "How could I possibly forget? I've treasured it ever since. It was the most beautiful time of my life!"
"Then why?" His voice was laced with anguish and confusion. "Why did you leave? Why in the hell did you marry Will Dobson?"
Julia went cold and still. She had never thought to hear that kind of pain in his voice. "I—I had to. I was—" Her voice dropped. "I was carrying your baby. I had to marry."
His hands dropped away from her, and be stepped back, stunned. "You what?"
"I was pregnant."
"With my child?" James's face was suddenly pale, his eyes too dark. "My child!"
Julia nodded, her stomach twisting inside her.
"But why? Why did you marry him? Why didn't you tell me?"
Julia swallowed and looked away. In the face of his stunned pain, she felt suddenly guilty and small. "I was afraid that you'd think I was trying to force you to marry me. I thought you might be furious, even hate me for it. I didn't want it to end like that. It had been so beautiful."
"My God! So you married someone else? So you didn't even tell me I had a child?"
"I knew you wouldn't marry me. You couldn't. You were a Banks." '
"Does that make me not human? Jesus Christ, Julie! I loved you! I'd told you that a million times. How could you think I would not marry you? I wanted to marry you. I planned to marry you. I loved you!"
Julia stared at him silently. She felt as though she'd opened a vein and her life blood was pouring out. Could she have been married to James all these years? Had she thrown away her future? "No. It was impossible. You couldn't have—your parents—"
"Damn my parents!" His eyes were blazing now. He wanted to crash his fist into something, wanted to storm and rage. "I would have married you. But you didn't even love me enough to tell me. You didn't believe me, didn't trust me. Did you think everything I said was lies? That I'd said I loved you just to seduce you? Was that your opinion of me?"
Julia shook her head miserably, tears starting in her eyes. "No. I knew that you believed you loved me. But that didn't mean you would marry me. You couldn't have. I couldn't have been a doctor's wife."
"Why the hell not? Goddamn it, Julia!" He swung away, stiff with fury. "You broke my heart."
The tears spilled out and coursed down her cheeks. "Oh, Jimmy, no! You got over it. You were bound to gel over it quick enough."
"Oh yeah, I got over you. After years of thinking about you, missing you, wondering why in the hell you'd married Will Dobson when you'd said you loved me! I couldn't see any reason for it except that you had lied to me, that you didn't really love me but had just used me to bring the man you wanted into line."
"No. My Lord, no! I didn't want Will!"
"You didn't want me, either. Not enough to tell me." His voice was low, and somehow his quiet fury was worse than when he had shouted. "How could you have kept my child from me! What happened to it?" He took a step toward her "It couldn't be Vance; he's not old enough. Where's the baby that was mine?"
Julia drew a ragged breath. She looked away. "She's dead. She died of scarlet fever when she was a little less than two years old."
James simply stood and looked at her, dazed by her revelations.
"I never meant to hurt you." Julia was equally astounded by James's reaction. She would never have dreamed that he had loved her that much, that he had been heartbroken when she married another man. She had assumed that he would be hurt for a while, but that he would recover quickly. After all, there had been so many girls who had wanted him, girls of his own class whom it would have been proper for him to love. He had desired Julia, been infatuated with her, but she had never imagined that he wanted to marry her. "I wouldn't have hurt you for the world. I loved you."
"So you say." James gazed at her levelly. "Yet you robbed me of my wife and daughter. Is that love, Julie?"
"James." Tears poured from her eyes. She didn't know what to say.
He reached around her and opened the front door. He walked out of it and down the walk to his buggy without looking back.
"James." Julia watched him go, leaning against the door and crying. She had lost him all over again.
❧
Sarah rode on the high wagon seat beside Luke, not saying a word. The two children were asleep in the back, stretched out on a quilt. She glanced at them and smiled. They were worn out. She was glad; she didn't want their childish chatter spoiling the mood.
She cast a sideways glance at Luke. He sat stiffly, staring straight ahead of him. He'd hardly looked at Sarah the whole ride out from town. Sarah didn't mind. His silence and avoidance of her were as clear a signal of his desire as if he had his hands all over her. He was taut with tension and very aware of her.
Sarah laid her hand casually on Luke's thigh. The hard muscle jumped beneath her palm, and she gave a tiny smile of satisfaction. Oh yes, he was aware of her.
Luke caught the little cat-in-the-cream smile on Sarah's face, it stirred him even more. She was teasing him, enticing him; she wanted him to lust after her so much he broke the bounds of his control Such evidence of blatant desire in his proper Sarah always aroused him.
His bands tightened on the reins. He tried to blank out of his mind what would happen when they reached home, to ignore
the clamoring in his nerves and the heavy need in his loins.
When they reached their house, Luke jumped down from the wagon, then reached up to help Sarah. She leaned out, putting her hands on his shoulders, and he placed his hands on her waist. He lifted her down, her body sliding slowly through his hands. His thumbs brushed the soft sides of her breasts. Even that brief touch speared him with desire. She was too close to him. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume and see the undisguised invitation in her clear hazel eyes.
Why did she want him when he had caused her such pain? Why didn't she protect herself against him, instead of leaving herself so open and vulnerable?
They carried the children upstairs to bed, then Luke returned to unhitch the team and let them loose in the corral. He added hay to their trough and checked their water, then stood for a moment, leaning against the corral fence, delaying his return to the house.
He ought to sleep in the other bedroom tonight. It was pushing his limits too far to lie in that bed with Sarah again. Maybe another man could do it, a gentleman like Stu Harper or James Banks. They could probably leave their wives alone in order to protect them from having children. Banks would no doubt find a loose woman to slake his sexual desires. But Luke was too loyal to Sarah to do that; hell, he didn't want any other woman but Sarah. And his blood didn't run cool enough to make it easy for him to stay away from her. Now here she was, acting seductive. It was too much. The best thing would be to remove himself from the danger.
Luke went upstairs with that purpose in mind. He would tell Sarah he was sleeping elsewhere. He stopped at the doorway to their bedroom.
Sarah was seated in front of her vanity table, dressed only in a chemise and petticoat, taking down her hair. Luke watched her. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move.
She pulled out the pins from her hair one by one and dropped them into a flat porcelain box. Her hair hung heavily as the pins released it, then slowly tumbled down altogether. Her hair was long, reaching to her hips, thick and buoyant from having been pinned up. Luke thought about sinking his fingers into her hair and combing through it, and fire danced in his abdomen. Sarah picked up her silver-backed brush and ran it through her hair. Slowly she ran it down the length of her hair, pulling the heavy mass out a little from her body, so that it settled back at the end of each stroke, crackling.
