by Gordon, Rose
The men on his team who’d been waiting on their respective bases ran toward home; then came Wes, who stopped mid-stride as he was about to reach home and grinned at her.
Her heart stilled—and so did her body. Then her eyes widened. Without realizing it, she’d been just as noisy as the group of men in front of her, shouting his name and kicking the barrel she was seated on with the heels of her shoes.
She put her palms up, shrugged her shoulders, and grinned.
He shook his head ruefully, then jogged home—the poor man who’d been made to fetch the ball he’d hit still hadn’t made it back.
A moment later, Wes was at her side, his breathing labored. “Is everything all right?”
She stared at him as if he were addled. “Of course it is. I’m having a great time.”
“I can tell.”
She might have had it in her to be embarrassed, but considering all of the other things she’d let slip in his presence the past few days, cheering for him wasn’t so bad.
“All right. I just wanted to make sure you were having a good time. There’s only a little left. Then I’ll spend the afternoon with you.” He looked up toward the sky and frowned. “I’d thought to take you on the horses, but we might have to settle for a game of cards if those clouds don’t go away.”
Allison looked up. She’d been having such a good time she hadn’t even noticed the clouds. “I’m game for playing cards with you, but only if you promise you’re not as good at cards as you are at this.”
“Not to worry, rounders is the only game I’m any good at.” He tucked a long tendril of her hair behind her ear. “I’d best be getting back over there.”
Allison watched him go, unable to keep herself from grinning at the back of him as he walked away. He was truly a handsome man, inside and out.
A raindrop landed on her hand, and she frowned up at the sky. It was dark with thick, gray clouds hanging overhead. Hopefully they could hold off just a while longer.
Colonel Lewis and General Ridgely took their turns, and so did two of the other officers, the last of whom hit his ball straight into the open hand of the man who guarded second base.
“Out!” yelled the scorekeeper. “That’s three. Time to switch.”
The opposing team took their turns and scored enough points to put them three points ahead of the officers before it was time to switch again.
Resuming their batting order, two officers Allison didn’t know had to take their turns first. The first made it to base and the second struck out. Then it was Lieutenant McCorkle’s turn to go.
Allison held her breath. He wasn’t as good as Jack, Gray or Wes. His chances of hitting the ball and taking a base were just as good as his chances of striking out.
He swung and missed. Then did it again. They already had one out. They couldn’t afford another so early in the inning. Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened. Lieutenant McCorkle swung and missed for a third time in a row.
“You’re out,” the scorekeeper shouted.
Allison breathed a sigh of relief. Jack was next, then Gray. Both of whom wouldn’t have a problem getting at least one base.
Which they each did, leaving a man on every base when it was Wes’ turn again. Before she could question what anyone might think of her, she shouted and cheered with the rest as he walked from the line toward the bat.
But he didn’t stop at the bat. He kept walking—straight in her direction.
She stopped cheering and knit her brows. “Wes, is something wrong?” she asked as he approached.
“Sure is.” He closed his hands around her waist and lifted her off the barrel.
“Wes, what’s going on?”
“You’re going to play.”
Allison dug her heels into the ground. The score was tied, and if the group of spectators were to be believed, this was the last time the officers would get a chance to bat. They needed to score as many points as possible. They wouldn’t do that if someone who didn’t know how to play took a turn. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll make your team lose.”
“Nonsense.” He pushed his bottom lip out into an overdone frown. “And if you do make us lose, who cares? It’s just a game.”
She scoffed. “One that apparently is taken very seriously around here to hear these men cheer.”
“Are you coming to take your turn, Wes? It’s starting to rain,” called one of the officers.
“Oh, give him a minute,” Gray hollered. “He has to get a kiss for luck so he can hit another ball a mile out.”
“Carry on, then,” the first officer yelled, leading Allison’s cheeks to burn despite the rain that was now sprinkling down on all of them.
“Shall you join me, or will I have to forfeit my turn and make us lose?” Wes asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Will you help me?”
Wes’ eyes did a slow sweep of her body, sending tingles down her spine as they went. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Allison licked her lips and allowed Wes to escort her to where the she’d have her turn to bat the ball.
Ignoring the shouts from all of the men, demanding to know what was going on, Wes picked up the bat with one hand, then used his other hand to turn her how he wanted her to stand.
Around them, the men out in the field and the ones sitting on the side started laughing; meanwhile, the officers were either so stunned their slack jaws wouldn’t allow them to form words or they were yelling at Wes to stop this foolishness and take his turn.
Wes paid them no mind and came to stand behind Allison, pressing his body firmly against hers.
She pushed the thought from her mind before she allowed herself to get too distracted and truly did cause them to lose.
“Relax,” he whispered in her ear, his lips so close she could practically feel them searing her skin. “When the ball comes toward you, you’re going to swing. Like this.” He moved their arms in the motion of swinging. “Do you think you can do that?”
As long as he was holding onto her, she could. She nodded. “But how do I know when to swing?”
“You watch the ball.”
“But what if I miss or I swing too late?”
“Shh. Stop worrying about that, I’m right here. I’ll tell you when to swing.”
“Tell me?” She craned her head around to look at him. “Aren’t you going to swing with me?”
He gave his head a simple shake. “No. I want you to get your turn to play. I’ll just tell you when to swing. All right?”
She swallowed nervously. “I don’t think I can.”
“Sure you can,” he coaxed. “No, turn like I had you—” he moved her back into proper position, his warm hands searing her skin through her shirt— “all right now, just wait until I tell you to, then swing.”
“Are you ready now, Captain?” the man with the ball called, humor evident in his voice.
“Yes, sir, Private Jackson,” Wes said in his usual calm, teasing tone, releasing his hold on Allison and taking a step back.
Private Jackson’s eyes widened when he realized Wes intended for Allison to bat unaided, then he gripped the ball in his hand, pulled it over his head and spinning forward on his right foot, brought his hand forward and released the ball.
Watching the ball sail through the air from the safe haven of her barrel seemed so easy. But now that she was standing right where it was flying, it wasn’t nearly as fun. The ball was coming closer—right at her, and she squeezed her eyes shut and held onto the bat for all it was worth.
“Now,” Wes called.
Whoosh.
She missed.
“Strike one,” the scorekeeper yelled.
Allison’s face heated.
“It’s all right,” Wes said softly. He came up behind her and helped her find her position again. It was hard for her to pay attention, however, with his warm body pressing against the length of her backside. “You need to relax your arms. They’re too stiff.”
“Sorr
y.”
“Don’t be sorry, just relax a little. The ball isn’t going to hit you. I’ll be right here to pull you back if I think it’ll be too close.”
She wanted to ask how he’d known what she’d been afraid of, but decided against it. No need to draw any more attention to herself than they were already getting.
“There you go,” Wes murmured as he helped her widen her stance and covered her hands with his on the bottom of the bat. “This time, swing like this—” He swung with her, slow and deliberate giving her a feel for how she should swing the bat. Then he did it once again, faster this time.
In front of her, Private Jackson grinned like a jackal as he tossed the ball up and down in the air, preparing to throw it, if she had to guess.
Suddenly, Wes released her and a chill passed over her at the way she suddenly felt bereft of his touch. Or perhaps that was the increasing rain. She didn’t have much time to think about it because Private Jackson resumed his throwing stance and prepared to toss it at her.
Then he did.
It flew through the air straight at Allison.
She closed her eyes again but refused to keep them that way—opening her right one just a sliver. Not much, but enough to see the ball flying toward her faster than a horse could run. She quickly closed it back and squeezed her eyes to prepare for the hard hit she knew her face was about to receive.
“Now!” Wes shouted.
With a slight squeal, she swung the bat forward only to have either used too much muscle in her swing or thrown her balance off because it came to rest with a not-so-gentle thump on her upper arm, followed swiftly by the smack of the ball being caught by the man standing behind him.
Then, of course, came the scorekeeper’s booming voice, “Strike two.”
“Wes, get her out of the game,” yelled Lieutenant McCorkle. “You can impress her later. If we get one more strike, that’ll be three outs and we could very well lose.”
Allison winced at his words, for they hurt far more than where she’d hit herself in the arm with the end of her bat.
Wes turned her around to face him. “Don’t listen to him, Allison,” he said, drowning out the other men who were agreeing with Lieutenant McCorkle, saying that Allison needed to go.
“I don’t want to cost you the game,” she protested.
“You won’t.”
“What about your pride? If I don’t hit this last one, your team will be out.”
He eyed her curiously. “Do you not think you can do it?”
“You know that I can’t,” she said weakly.
He brushed a fallen tendril of her hair from her damp forehead. “I bet you also didn’t think you’d survive your time here without starving to death first—but then you tried jerky and dried fruit.”
She nearly blushed. It was only because of him that she’d managed to not have her stomach eat itself.
“I bet you also didn’t think you’d ever wear anything other than the dress you arrived in,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t deny it, either. I might not know much about sewing, but I know enough to know that you’re not the expert seamstress you’d have had me believe inside Charles’ store.”
Her face burned. “You’re right and it was only because of you that I have something else to wear.”
“No,” he corrected. “I didn’t sew your skirt. You did. I might have suggested you wear it differently than the way you’d intended—but you made it. Just like you can do this, Allison. I know that you can.”
A million things ran through her mind, one of which being that if the look in his eyes was any indication, he was trying to tell her something else. Something not related to rounders at all. She wet her lips, screwing up the nerve to ask what he’d meant—
“Now, go give it one last try.”
She started. “You won’t mind if I strike out and your team loses?”
He turned his lips into an overdone frown and shook his head. “No. I’d rather we lose, and you to have had a turn rather than us win and you only being able to sit from the sideline.”
“Wes, hurry up and find the nerve to tell your wife she can’t play and get on with it. The rain is picking up,” a voice called, not taking one drop of her newfound excitement at Wes’ earlier words.
Wes seemed completely unaffected by the man’s words, but must think that she was for he said, “Stop paying them mind. This has nothing to do with them. This is about us. Now, this time, if you must close your eyes, that’s fine. Just hold the bat like this—” he put her arms into an awkward position unlike the first two times.
“Wes, this feels silly.”
“Why? You’ll be more likely to actually hit the ball this way. Is that not what you want? Do you want to get us out?”
She nearly giggled at his tone. “No. But neither do I want people to think I only hit it because I cheated.”
As if seeing her point, he moved her arms back the way they were before. “All right, hold it like this and try to keep your eyes open—just a little.”
She swallowed her unease and allowed him to move her completely into stance.
He moved her left leg out a little and her right one back; then ran his open palms along her back and up to her shoulders where he straightened them. Holding her still, he bent so close to her ear she could feel his breath against her skin. “Don’t forget, Allison, I don’t care if we win or lose, so have fun. Please?”
Allison nodded. It was all she could do. She couldn’t remember him ever styling her by her name. Not that she thought he hadn’t; surely he had and she just couldn’t remember it. But she’d forever remember the soft, silky tone in which he’d just addressed her as Allison and not ‘my lady’.
“All right, Jackson,” Wes hollered, releasing her; by some miracle she did not collapse into the puddle she thought she might, but instead held position as Wes said those simple words: “She’s ready.”
Private Jackson didn’t even try to hide his amusement at the situation, knowing his team was about to win. The men in the field seemed to have just as much confidence in Allison as Private Jackson because they all looked to be grinning and shaking with laughter.
Private Jackson wiped the rainwater from his face, something Allison hadn’t even noticed had covered hers, too, then threw the ball at her again.
Keep them open. Keep them open. Keep them open... Despite the ball sailing toward her and the rain that was now starting to fall more rapidly than before, she couldn’t and closed them, leaving only a sliver open—just enough to see the ball. She willed herself not to close off that sliver as she’d done last time. If she did, then she’d be swinging blindly, which seemed to result in no hits—only strikes. She had to do it this time.
“Now!” Wes commanded.
Refusing to blink all the way to clear her rain-blurred vision, Allison gripped the bat as tightly as she could and brought it forward.
There was no whoosh, the distinct sound of a strike.
There was no bruising hit to her shoulder followed the smacking of the ball colliding with a man’s hand.
There was no crack to indicate a ball well hit.
The only sound was a slight thump—rapidly followed by shouts she couldn’t understand.
She dropped her eyes to the ground and a whole six inches in front of her sat the ball.
“Run!” someone shouted.
But she couldn’t. She was too amazed she’d hit the ball to think, let alone run.
“Wes, I hit it! I actually hit the ball!” she shrieked, turning to face him and his broad grin, then before she knew what she was doing, she leapt into his arms.
Wes’ strong arms came around her just then, catching her to him; then his grin faded and his blue eyes clouded with what could only be termed as raw desire as a thin sheen of water covered his face and drops fell steadily from his angled chin.
Her breath caught at the sight of him, uncertain.
Uncertain, she might be, but the determined look on his face told her tha
t he knew exactly what he wanted and when his lips met hers, she knew it was exactly what she wanted, too.
Other than the quick brush of their lips this morning, the only other kiss they’d shared had come the day they’d married. But even it was nothing compared to this one.
His warm, soft lips covered hers and moved on top of—and in between—hers. She mirrored his actions, heedless to the audience they had. Nothing could make her break their kiss. Nothing.
The crack of lightning rent the air and Wes pulled back, a strong intensity in his eyes.
Suddenly, a strong current of cold water hit Allison.
The light drizzle was over; the clouds had opened up; and now it was a downpour.
“Shall we finish the game?” one of the men on the opposite team asked.
“I don’t care what you all plan to do,” Wes said raggedly, as he moved to scoop Allison up into his arms at a better angle, then dropped his voice so only she could hear, “the only home I plan to run to at this moment is my own.”
~Chapter Seventeen~
Wes heard the noise that surrounded him, but that’s all it was: noise.
In front of him, looking up at him with her wide brown eyes and kiss-swollen lips stood Allison, and no matter what was being said around him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
He wanted her.
All of her.
Now.
The fate of the game could go to rot. All he cared about was in his arms.
Unable to form the words he so desperately wanted to say, he scooped her up again and made a direct path to their room.
Allison seemed not to mind, for she didn’t say anything, nor did she so much as break eye contact with him as he carried her across the now soggy field, to the barracks, up the stairs and to their room.
He set her down and immediately brought his lips back to hers.
He’d kissed her passionately outside, but not as passionately as he’d have liked.
Wes brought his hands up to cup her face and held her lips to his, taking it as a sign of encouragement when she dug her fingers into the back of his hair as if she were holding him to her, never wanting to let go. Just the same as he felt for her.
