It was past nine o’clock when the Knauers’ carriage deposited them at the Orleans Hotel. Katie had never felt more drained, and desired only to climb into bed, pull the covers over her head, and sleep endlessly. She moved up the stairs in a fog, barely aware of Jack walking next to her until he unlocked the door to their suite and lightly touched the small of her back to signal her to enter. Even through her gown and corset, the brush of his fingers sent fire streaking over her nerves. Involuntarily her eyes were drawn to the wide gold band on her left hand as she remembered that the wedding night still loomed before them. Her heart began to pound so loudly, she was certain he must hear it.
Inside, Jack went immediately into the bedroom and lit the lamp next to the magnificently carved Gothic revival bed. Katie hovered in the doorway, watching as he stripped off his coat and sat down on the forest-green velvet bedspread. She liked to watch Jack move: he was graceful and masculine all at once, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing against the fine linen of his shirt as he bent to remove his shoes. Soft lamplight burnished his hair, and when he looked up at her, Katie was struck by the sober male beauty of his face.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Wyatt?” he asked softly.
“Fine, I think.” She tried to smile. “A little tired.” She prayed that he would suggest she get a good night’s sleep.
He stood up and held out his hands to her. “Why don’t you let me help you relax?”
Katie went to him with trepidation. Her cheeks were warm, but her hands were cold as she put them in Jack’s. “It’s hard to believe that we’re really married.”
“But it’s true. You are my wife now, Kathleen.”
The tone of his voice told her that he fully intended to exercise his rights as her husband. She had come to believe that the physical attraction between them was too vital to extinguish, but now she felt as shy as if Jack were touching her for the first time. In the past, she had given herself over to the loss of control, to the flame that caught and spread in spite of its forbidden nature. It had seemed to Katie that they were both powerless... then. Was that passion lost now? Everything seemed different, including Jack himself. It was as if they were strangers who had met on their wedding day.
Slowly Jack turned her around and began to unfasten the back of her gown. She felt freezing cold; it was all she could do to keep from shivering. After sliding the sleeves down her arms to free the top half of her body, Jack put his hands on her shoulders and kneaded gently, soothingly. Something seemed to break inside of Katie. She nearly sagged against him and whimpered with pleasure. His fingers found every source of hidden tension, probing expertly until she sighed with gratitude. When the touching ceased she held her breath, eyes closed. Time seemed suspended... and then warm, firm lips pressed the nape of her neck, burning, sending shivers down her spine. Suddenly Katie was anticipating the next step, when he would pull her into his arms and kiss her in earnest.
“Relax, Kathleen,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “And wait.”
His tone was seductive, and she was startled to feel a hot twinge between her legs. Jack removed her gown and unwieldy crinoline, leaving Katie standing in stockings, lace-trimmed drawers, chemise, and corset. He surveyed her, and the patient, predatory gleam in his eyes made her blush. Her heart beat not with fear, but with expectation. From beneath her lashes, Katie watched as he removed his waistcoat and unbuttoned his snow-white shirt to give her a glimpse of the tanned, lean-muscled chest behind it. The memory of his scent and warmth heightened her desire.
With excruciating slowness, Jack unlaced Katie’s corset, tossed it aside, then slid down her gauzy drawers so that she could step out of them. Then he stood back and gazed at her for a moment. Her legs were slim and sleek in the creamy stockings, and the simple cotton-and-lace chemise nipped in at her waist and clung to the curves of her full breasts. Jack’s blood pounded. Reaching around, he removed the pins from her hair so that it spilled in soft, fragrant waves to her hips.
“My God, but you are beautiful,” he murmured. Try as he might to distance himself from her emotionally, the physical passion Katie elicited from him always caught him off guard. There was something about her—that mixture of intelligence, naiveté, gloriously innocent beauty, and lush, untutored sexuality—that aroused him in a way that no other woman ever had.
Katie could feel Jack’s heat as he stood before her and ran his fingers lightly up her arms, caressing her throat and shoulders, then down over the sides of her chemise. His eyes held hers as he paused for a moment before grazing her breasts with his fingertips. Instantly Katie’s breathing changed. The tingling ache in her breasts was almost unbearable. Her nipples tautened against the thin cotton of the chemise, and she felt an ache begin to build deep inside her, a throbbing that left her moist with desire. Still gazing into Katie’s eyes, Jack reached for her trembling hand and placed it over the ridge outlined against his trousers. Her blush deepened even as she curved her fingers around him.
“I want you, my beautiful wife,” he said huskily.
Katie nodded. “I want you, too,” she managed to whisper.
He flicked open the tiny buttons of her chemise, his eyes devouring her body as it slipped to the ground. Proud and shy, she stood before him, naked except for the pale stockings. Jack moved closer and traced the curve of her waist and hips with wondering hands, then cupped her buttocks and drew her against him. Involuntarily, she arched against the hardness of his manhood. Her nipples, pink and soft as rosebuds, pressed the crisp hair on his chest. His shirt had disappeared, and now Katie fumbled boldly with the buttons on his trousers. When he was naked she longed to touch him, but the sight of his erection and the male strength of his body made her shy. Smiling, Jack drew back the bedclothes, scooped Katie up, and deposited her on the soft sheets.
Katie stretched like a cat, luxuriating in her own sensuousness. As the lamplight spread its amber glow over the tantalizing curves of her body, she looked up to see Jack poised above her like a bronzed god. There was nothing similar about their bodies except for a common beauty.
Jack knelt between her legs and slowly lifted one so that the ankle rested on his broad shoulder. With exquisite deliberation, he rolled the stocking down Katie’s leg, his fingers trailing fire. When her foot was bare, he kissed her instep, the slim curve of her ankle, and then each toe until she nearly cried out from the rush of intense sensations.
Through the mist of her arousal, Katie marveled dreamily at the sight of Jack’s torso as he knelt before her: the muscled definition of his chest, the ridges of his flat belly and narrowness of his hips, the line of dark hair that led downward to the proud essence of his masculinity. She loved the strong, leonine curve of his head and neck as he bent toward her. The painstaking care he took to bring her to new heights of pleasure made her feel precious and more feminine than she had ever imagined possible.
By the time Jack had removed Katie’s other stocking and paid homage to her left foot, she thought she would go mad with longing. Every nerve ached for him, and now, as he came to her, she held up her arms in welcome. The sensation of his hard, warm body pressing against the length of her own made her gasp. She drank in the feel of his back, she sought his mouth, she rubbed against his chest, and she yearned for release from the feverish pressure in her loins.
Jack was hungry, too. Katie’s mouth was ambrosia, and he drank his fill before tasting her neck, shoulders, and, finally, her breasts. They were swollen with desire, the rosy nipples eager for his lips. Katie strained against him as he leisurely kissed and circled his tongue around each one, molding a breast with one hand while his other strayed lower, caressing the satiny surface of her belly until he found the moist, hot place between her legs. His fingers surprised her. His evocative probing, combined with the sensation of his mouth at her breast, made her pant. She writhed helplessly as Jack’s skilled touch brought her higher and higher until, at last, she seemed to burst under a tidal wave of acute ecstasy. For a moment she felt
paralyzed, as if she’d been cast up on a beach after a storm. Blissful sensations continued to radiate from her loins, but she ached for something more.
Jack moved upward to kiss her again, his tongue working its magic with ease. Then Katie’s hands sought and found his pulsing member, which suddenly seemed to grow even larger as he groaned with pleasure. When he moved inside her hands, her hips joined in the rhythm, and then, when the ache had reached the point of pain, Katie guided him home. His first thrust gave them both a jolt, and Jack paused for a moment, reveling in the sensation. They mated then in earnest, their damp bodies straining together, the world and all its cares forgotten. Through it all, they kissed and touched, as if they couldn’t get close enough. Katie spiraled higher and higher, crying out when she climaxed again, arching against him with all her might. Jack’s own release came soon after in a burning series of contractions that left him spent and dazed. Slowly he lowered himself next to Katie and, gazing deeply into her eyes, reached out to caress her cheek with reverent fingers. He’d almost forgotten what it was like with Katie....
“Meoww!”
Poppy sprang blindly into the air, hooked her claws into the velvet bedspread, and hoisted herself to safety near their feet. Katie managed a soft giggle as she lay cradled in against Jack’s chest, trying to get her breath back. The kitten scrambled toward them. Her mistress reached out to pet her and Poppy purred and writhed with pleasure.
“Are you all right?” Jack inquired.
“Yes....” Was it simply weariness that she detected in his tone? “How do you feel?”
He stroked the damp curls back from Katie’s brow and sighed. “Well, I don’t think there’s any doubt that this marriage has been consummated,” he said dryly. “There’s no turning back now....”
Chapter 23
November 1-2, 1864
“Sacramento is said to be another wonder of the world,” Amanda Knauer announced proudly, “for it has risen as rapidly, and been burned down as many times, as San Francisco. We have floods to contend with, too. And yet Sacramento thrives, even though the prosperity brought by gold is past. Other towns have died in the last few years, but we will continue to grow because we were wise enough not to rely on the gold for our security.”
Katie looked around the bustling waterfront. Jack and Stephen were off making certain that Katie’s trunk was loaded properly on the steamer they were about to board for San Francisco. She wasn’t particularly interested in discussing the economy of Sacramento, but Amanda seemed so earnest, and it was, after all, a way to pass the time. Katie certainly didn’t want to answer questions about her relationship with Jack, several of which Amanda had already attempted to pose. “It clearly is evident that Sacramento has become quite the shipping center.” She gestured below them at the river, which was crowded with barks, brigs, schooners, sloops, steamers, and barges.
Amanda nodded, dark eyes wide in her pale, thin face. “That’s only part of it. This valley is going to provide a bounty of food. Already we have many flour mills, and thousands of acres are planted with fruit orchards and other crops. We have dozens of brickyards, several lumber mills—”
“Kathleen, it’s time to board!” Jack approached, winding his way through the bales, crates, and boxes that were being unloaded along the levee.
Katie glanced back at the unfinished-looking city, shrouded in the pinkish-gray fog that marked most sunrises in the Central Valley at this time of year. The distant mountains where she had spent nearly all her life were hidden from view. In the midst of her excitement, Katie felt a bittersweet pang for the life she was leaving behind. “I want to thank you and Mr. Knauer for your many kindnesses,” she said, taking Amanda’s hand. “I’ll always remember Sacramento as the place where I began my marriage.”
“It was our pleasure.” Amanda beamed. “I hope you realize how lucky you are to have caught Jack Wyatt. Wait until the female population of San Francisco hears! I wish I could be there to witness the reaction as the word spreads....”
Jack took his wife’s arm, giving Amanda a sharp look as he did so. “Don’t talk nonsense, Mandy. I’m certain that the only response to the news of our marriage will be warm congratulations.”
“What about Gen—” Amanda caught herself, realizing that Katie might not even know about Genevieve Braithwaite. “Of course, you’re right. You know how we women are, we just love the thought of gossip! Now you two have a wonderful trip, and give our love to—”
“I’ll be sure to pass along regards to all your friends,” Jack cut in. He gave Amanda a kiss, shook hands with Stephen, and waited while Katie made her good-byes. At last the newlyweds boarded the magnificent steamer.
Jack told Katie that the steamships that plied the Sacramento River were known as water palaces, and she mentioned that Samuel Clemens had called the riverboats he had piloted “wedding cakes on water.” Jack laughed at that, and Katie delighted briefly in the conversational spark. It was reassuring to recall that they had once engaged in heated verbal exchanges, matching wits with gusto.
Soon after they boarded the Senator, however, Jack slipped back into his role of detached husband. He stood on deck chatting with some businessmen he knew who were traveling to San Francisco, while Katie strolled around and admired the steamer. The Senator was indeed a water palace. From the dock it had looked like a splendid white house, a first impression unsullied by the view close up, for inside it boasted fine, large doors, spacious windows, and galleries with fittings and furniture to match. In the ornate saloon, Katie observed the rather curious mixture of passengers. The women were nearly all well dressed and appeared to be refined, but such was not the case with the men. Although some, like Jack, wore tailored suits, most looked as if they had come from the foothills in their worn jackets and work boots.
Every male on the steamer seemed to be chewing tobacco, even the boys. Katie found this disheartening, for she’d hoped the habit would not be so widespread in the larger cities. At least they didn’t spit as often as the miners of Columbia, although many of the men used their fingers for handkerchiefs. Katie reminded herself that she was still in the West, where men rejoiced in defying rules of etiquette.
South of Sacramento, the river was beautiful. Sloughs and hidden coves branched off in every direction, thick with water hyacinths. Fish jumped as they fed, and flocks of geese and ducks flew overhead, their cries filling the morning air. It was a new world for Katie, and she loved it all.
At length, Jack found Katie and took her to the dining salon for lunch. In spite of the room’s elegant appointments, the passengers’ manners made the meal a crowded, rushed affair. While they ate, Jack remarked that the steamer was making excellent time. It was always much quicker to travel downstream to San Francisco rather than the reverse, and the tide was out, which further hastened their journey. With luck, they would dock before sunset.
“I hope that you’ll have your first look at San Francisco in daylight,” Jack said, spearing a last bit of potato. “It’s nothing like Columbia....”
He gave her a wry smile, and Katie took a deep breath. The future was rushing toward her now, and there was nothing she could do to slow its approach. In a way, she was glad. Soon she would see her new city, her new home, and have some idea what the future would hold. She told herself that in just a few hours, the uncertainty would be over.
* * *
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wyatt,” Elijah said, receiving the news of his employer’s marriage with his usual unruffled composure. If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. “Welcome to San Francisco.”
The black manservant’s warmth came as a great relief to Katie. As Jack handed her up into the beautiful carriage awaiting them near the Pacific Street wharf, she returned Elijah’s smile. “Thank you very much! I’m glad to meet you, too, Elijah.”
For his part, Jack ignored the other man’s keen, amused glance. “I appreciate your meeting us, and hope you didn’t have to wait long. How is everything at home?”
>
“Just fine, sir. Your grandfather and brother were happy to receive your telegram and are looking forward to your arrival, but they failed to mention Mrs. Wyatt to me....”
“That’s because they don’t know,” Jack replied laconically. “You may take a more scenic route to Rincon Hill, so that my wife can have a look at Sail Francisco before the light goes completely.”
As the carriage set off toward the hills of downtown, now plum-tinted in the twilight, Katie turned to Jack and murmured politely, “I didn’t know that you had a grandfather and brother at home.”
“Yes, you did. I told you last July, when I first suggested that you come to San Francisco with me.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
Katie’s voice rose. “Ate you referring to a conversation that took place between us on the night that my father died? How could you possibly expect me to remember information imparted to me at such a time?”
“Kathleen,” he warned, inclining his head toward Elijah, “I would prefer to have this discussion later, when we are alone.”
Brighter than Gold (Western Rebels Book 1) Page 24
