“Don’t you understand?” she continued. “Rubal lied to me. Maybe not in words, but definitely in deed. Running out like that, without even saying goodbye, made everything else he did a lie. I guess that’s why lying is about the worst thing a person can do, in my books.”
He didn’t tell her. Not after that. He was afraid to. He decided to wait, rethink the situation, figure out how he could tell her without losing her. But he had to tell her soon, that was for sure. He couldn’t marry her until she knew who he was.
Molly snuggled into the crook of his side, stretching herself half over him in a voluptuous, unself-conscious sort of way that filled him with pride—and longing. That part of him, leastways, that wasn’t worried over losing her. Which, he knew he stood to do, unless he came up with that miracle or something close to it, mighty fast.
“Marriage means weddings,” she whispered. “Are you ready to talk about a wedding?”
“Humm.” Slipping his hands down to her waist, he hoisted her until she lay on top of him, her breasts tantalizing his chest, her mound of femininity just above his already reacting arousal.
She kissed him, offering her open lips in a shameless kiss, all tongues and wetness. When she felt his body react, she nuzzled against him, bringing on a hasty return of potency.
“How ’bout tonight?” he mumbled into her mouth, while his hands slipped past her hips. He squeezed her taut buttocks in hot palms.
She sighed into his mouth, running her tongue around his lips, exciting him, knowing it, loving it. “It’s getting late. I doubt we could get a marriage license tonight. What with the courthouse being so far away, and…” While she spoke, his fingers entered her sleek interior.
He watched her pause, giving her total concentration to his passion-invoking caresses.
“Dang it,” he teased, his fingers continuing to work their magic inside her, “I’m sure anxious to snuggle up next to you in that big ol’ bed.”
She tossed her head back, stared into the thick roof of pine branches overhead, exposing her slender neck. She reacted to his probing hands in a free manner that Rubal had never imagined a woman doing—leastways, a lady like Molly. A lady he loved.
“I’ll bet it’s a feather mattress,” he whispered, his voice now husky with rising passion.
“Humm.” Dropping her head, she stared into his passion-glazed eyes. “Soft as down.”
His free hand came up, grasped one of her breasts and drew the nipple to his mouth. “Soft, you say?”
He watched her swallow, curl her lips inward, saw passion tighten her eyes. Running his tongue around the aureola, he let his teeth flick her nipple, felt her tighten around his fingers, felt himself ready…
With a last tug on her breast, he shifted her onto her back, using both hands. “Guess we’ll have to make do with a bed of pine needles until it’s legal.”
As before when he entered her he watched her face, held her gaze, savored the reaction her passionate response had on his body. This time she moved with him, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, running her hands along his spine, cupping his buttocks at the end, holding him to her, while together they labored to breathe, cherishing each other and the freedom they had found to explore their love.
As darkness fell around them, he rolled to his side and cradled her to his chest, knowing he was at once the luckiest and the sorriest man alive. Thoughts of losing her undermined his joy at holding her in his arms, at having made love to her and given her joy, at finally realizing how much he loved her.
She stirred. “Ah, Jubal, I do love you so. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”
They rode home, Rubal subdued by the knowledge that he would take away from Apple Springs not only a broken heart, but the joy they had shared this day. Molly, though, would soon hate him with such intensity that the joy she had experienced today would turn to hate.
Although her dress was fairly unmussed, her hair hung below her shoulders, fanning out around her face like a dark lace headdress.
“Supper’s likely over,” he ventured.
She agreed. “Lindy and the children will be in the kitchen feeding the loggers.”
“Maybe we can slip in like we slipped out.”
That, however, was not to be. Cleatus Farrington stood on the porch, a portrait of disquietude. Twirling that citified hat in his hands, he stared up the road and down.
“Can’t win ’em all,” Rubal commented under his breath, as they approached the front hitching rail. “After we talk to him, I’ll put up the horses.”
“I’ll help you.”
Cleatus stomped toward them, arriving at the hitching rail by the time Rubal assisted Molly from her saddle. “Where in thunderation have you been?”
“We went to see Cliff Parker,” Rubal told him.
Cleatus looked from one to the other, his eyes alighting on Molly’s unbraided hair. “Don’t expect me to believe that.”
“Believe what you want,” Molly responded. “We didn’t ask you to wait up for us.”
“You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, either. Don’t you realize how late it is? Don’t you know wild beasts could have attacked you in the darkness?”
Rubal allowed Molly to handle the situation. She answered with more restraint than he would have shown.
“As you can see, Cleatus, they didn’t.”
Cleatus glared at Rubal, then back to Molly. “From the looks of things something worse happened. Don’t you care that he’s turned you into a…a tramp?”
Rubal’s action took Cleatus, Molly, and even himself by surprise. His fist hit Cleatus’s offending mouth, toppling the banker backwards. Cleatus landed on his behind, sitting dumfounded on the ground, sputtering.
“You…you…listen—”
“No,” Rubal interrupted, “You listen.” He reached for Molly’s hand, clasping it tightly in both of his. “Slander the woman I intend to marry once more, and I won’t stop with a smack to your jaw. You’ll do good to come out of a second round with any teeth left in your mouth or eyes in their sockets.”
Cleatus rubbed his jaw. He stared at Molly, incredulous. “Molly wouldn’t marry some…some fly-by-nighter like you.”
Rubal shrugged as though Cleatus hadn’t spoken a word of truth. “We’ll see.” He turned to Molly. “Stay here and talk things over with him, if you want. I’ll put the horses away.”
Chapter Thirteen
They decided not to reveal their plans until breakfast. Later that night after the children were in bed, Rubal and Molly sat together in the swing, cuddled in an embrace, talking about this welcome turn of events.
Or trying to.
“When do you want to tell them?” Molly was asking.
“Tell them?” Rubal had been thinking about what he had to tell Molly—the truth, for once. He should do it tonight, get it over with. It wasn’t fair to her, leading her on, letting her think he was someone he wasn’t, letting her believe he was such a good and honorable man, when in fact he was about the sorriest feller to walk the face of the earth.
But she felt so good, snuggled against him. She smelled so good, like honeysuckle and pine needles. Oh, Molly, sweet, sweet, Molly. Tomorrow he would tell her. Tomorrow, he promised himself, after he had one last chance to hold her close. After he created a few more memories, which once he told her the truth would likely be all he had left—memories.
More than he deserved.
“The children,” she replied, relieving his guilty conscience for the moment. “When should we tell them about us?”
He drew her close, covered her lips, kissed her softly, then more passionately. Lifting his face, he grinned. “How ’bout we wake them up right now? We could stand in the yard and shout to the house. “Wake up! We forgot to tell you something. We’re in love! We’re getting married! Molly and—”
Rubal’s words stopped short, cut off by the awful truth. Molly and Who were getting married?
Releasing her, he crossed the porch, stood at the edge
of the porch, hands stuffed in his front pockets, staring out at the road, at the moon which had risen above the height of the forest that ringed the town. Molly came up behind him, clasping him around the waist. She rested her head on his back.
“Are we?” she questioned softly.
“Are we what?”
“In love?”
His heart constricted. Turning, he leaned against a pillar and drew her to his chest. He buried his lips in her billowing hair. How long he’d waited to see it loose and free. It smelled of the forest…sweet and musky and so much like Molly.
“I am.” He lifted her chin with two fingers. “How ’bout you?”
She leaned into him, kissing him full on the lips. “Oh, yes. I am, too.”
He kissed her soundly, then, hard, wet, deep, driven by the forces of rising desire and love…and guilt…and fear.
When they came up for air, she rested her forehead on his chin. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
“Humm.”
“Are you, uh…” Lifting her face she studied his expression in the white light of the moon. “Being in love doesn’t necessarily mean you want to get married. Do you…uh, see your freedom flying out the window, like you said Rubal did?”
His arms tightened around her. She watched his face take on the pinched look of pain. And she felt it, too. But the pain she felt was fear, fear that she might have been right. Unable to look in his face any longer, she laid her face back against his chest. She felt his chin rub back and forth across the top of her head.
Even though she took a deep breath and considered the words carefully before speaking them, she heard her voice tremble, when she asked, “Will I wake up in the morning and find you gone?”
He drew her back, stared solemnly into her eyes. “No, Molly. I won’t be gone in the morning. The only reason I would ever leave, is if you sent me away.”
A smile slowly spread across her face. “Then you’re here to stay, Jubal,” she muttered as his lips descended.
They decided to tell the children and Sugar at breakfast. It was Rubal’s suggestion and although one of his motives served his own purpose—to solidify his position in the family before Molly learned the truth—he was also thinking of her, of reassuring her by making their commitment known.
Breakfast turned into a lighthearted, giddy scene during which he was able to momentarily forget his plight. They had decided to make the announcement when all the children were together at the table. Rubal helped the little boys dress, combing their hair, tucking their shirttails into their overalls.
When he reached the kitchen he could tell Molly was nervous. Her hair, caught loosely with a ribbon at her nape, wisped in curls around her face. She wore a gingham dress of cheery yellow and a white apron, and when he stepped into the kitchen her eyes lit up the room. For a moment they stood, taking in the presence of each other, as though making a picture for the family album.
A picture, Rubal thought, to pull out and look at in the lonely days ahead. Forcefully, he pushed aside his troubles. Molly loved him; he knew that. The trouble was, she might not be able to see how strong her love was through the pain his confession would cause her. The way he had it figured, with the kids on his side, he’d stand a much better chance of persuading her to let him hang around while she got used to the fact that he was his brother.
He stood aside, watching the kids arrive at the table, each in his own individual mood—Travis was his usual quiet self, absorbed with his own day; the little boys pushed and shoved to be first, as though they were afraid of not getting the place of choice, a seat next to him; and Lindy, cheerful, more mature than when he arrived, but as straightforward as always.
“We’re glad you’re back, Mr. Jarrett. Things were terrible around here without you.” She slid into her chair next to Travis. “Don’t mind what Cleatus said about keeping Molly out after dark. We’ve had people talk about us before.”
Rubal blushed at her frankness, swallowed, and glanced to Molly for help. She stood with her hands on the back of her chair, a smile as bright as the morning sun lighting her face. “I…uh, we…” Her eyes caressed his face. “…we have something to tell you.”
Rubal set down his coffee cup and crossed the room to stand beside her. With one arm around her shoulders, he looked into the kids’ suddenly expectant faces. The little boys’ expressions beamed with innocent smiles. Likely they were expecting an upcoming fishing expedition or something equally exciting. Travis frowned in a disinterested way, and Lindy, bless her growing heart, glowed.
“Jub—”
Before Molly could twist the knife of guilt farther into his wicked heart, Rubal took over. “I asked your sister to marry me. She agreed, but we…” He winked at Molly, then turned back to the little group at the table. Their expressions hadn’t changed, except maybe Lindy’s eyes were a tad rounder and Travis’s frown a bit deeper.
“…we wanted to ask your permission.”
The little boys didn’t quite understand. But the two older children did. Lindy jumped to her feet, hands clasped over her heart.
“How romantic.” She embraced Molly and Rubal.
“Does that mean you won’t go away again, Mr. Jarrett?” Willie Joe asked.
Rubal reached to tousle the boy’s tow head, responding with a grin.
“You’ll take us fishin’, mister?”
“You bet.”
“When’s the wedding?” Lindy asked.
Molly and Rubal exchanged glances, shrugging. Molly looked at Travis, who had resumed eating as if the announcement didn’t affect him.
“Before Travis leaves for San Augustine,” she said.
Travis looked up then, his face a study in contempt. “Don’t bother about me. Master Taylor—”
“Travis—” Molly began.
Rubal interrupted. “In all the excitement Molly and I forgot to tell you where we went yesterday.”
Travis stuffed a flapjack in his mouth and chewed.
“We met with an independent logger, man by the name of Cliff Parker, who’s agreed to cut enough loblolly pines for your school expenses, Travis.”
Travis looked up, stony rejection written on his face, plain as day.
“Travis—” Molly began again.
Rubal interrupted again. “Parker agrees that there’re enough loblollies on that tract to send all of you to school.” He smiled at Lindy. “You, too.”
“Me, too, Mr. Jarrett?” Willie Joe asked.
“Me, too, mister?”
“All of you. It’s your land, inherited from your mother.”
With Rubal still explaining, Travis got up and headed for the door. Rubal exchanged glances with Molly, then followed the disgruntled boy.
“Wait up a minute, Travis.”
Travis stopped in the backyard, flinging a cynical look over his shoulder, then started off down the lane.
Rubal caught up with him. “What’s your problem with all this?”
“You.”
Fists on hips, Rubal studied the curt boy, thinking he likely needed a paddling more than Lindy ever had. Knowing that wouldn’t help. “What about me?”
“Master Taylor says—”
“Travis, don’t you think it’s about time you came out from behind Master Taylor’s coattails and started thinking for yourself?”
“You mean and let you think for me?”
“No. I don’t want to think for anybody. Truth is I’m having a hard enough time thinking for myself.”
“Cleatus says—I mean, you’re thinking for Molly. And look where it’s got us.”
“Where?”
“Everybody in town wonders what it is you want around here. Well, I guess your announcement answered that. You came in here taking charge like you owned the place—now you do. Or you will, after you marry Molly. Well, don’t expect me to like it…or to like you.”
Rubal watched the angry boy turn on his heels and run down the road. He felt like catching the kid and turning him over his knee, but t
hat would do more harm than good. And after all, he didn’t have the right.
Travis had hit that nail on the head. He had come in here taking charge of things that were none of his business. He’d misled Molly; no, he had out-and-out lied to her.
Molly ran around the corner of the house. She clutched Rubal around the waist. “That boy! He should be whipped for talking to you like that.”
The little boys clambered out the back door, followed by Lindy. And in all the commotion, Rubal took Molly’s face in his hands and brought her lips to his, feeling everything dear to him suddenly slipping away.
“Molly, I love you.” He kissed her gently. “Always remember that. Whatever comes of all this, please, always remember that. I love you. But I don’t deserve you.”
When the house had cleared, Sugar offered her own feelings on the engagement. “’Bout time the two of you saw eye to eye. I could tell from the outset you’d get along like a house afire, but it took you a mighty long time to get around to lettin’ you’selves see it.”
Molly set about cleaning the dining room, which needed more and more attention these days as supper at the Blake House drew larger and larger crowds. Finally noises drew her outside where Jubal had put the loggers to work finishing the whitewashing. While she stood admiring the house, considering holding another dance in the not-too-distant future, footsteps alerted her from behind.
Turning she watched Cleatus stomp up the road, thrust open the yard gate and approach her, fury blazing from his usually placid eyes.
“Molly, I’m prepared to give you one last chance to come to your senses.”
“I haven’t lost my senses.”
“Well, you certainly aren’t thinking with your brain. Reverend Callicott said I should be lenient with you—”
“Lenient? About what?”
“You’re not looking at things from the right perspective. Reverend Callicott says it’s natural for a woman to be attracted to the rugged type like Jarrett, but when they settle down, they want a man who’s steady and reliable.”
Molly drew a deep breath. She hadn’t intended to hurt Cleatus. “It isn’t his type, Cleatus. Or yours. I didn’t compare the two of you, I…I just fell in love with Jubal Jarrett. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
Secret Surrender--Jarrett Family Sagas--Book Four Page 22
