The Color of Ivy

by Peggy Ann Craig

  She frowned and looked at him. “And now ye fear death more than ever before. Always be trying to stay one step ahead, as if it be tracking ye all these years. Waiting to take what it rightfully was supposed to claim that night.”

  He lifted his gaze finally to meet hers. Understanding creased the folds next to his eyes as he studied her with curiosity. “That’s right.”

  For the first time since Moira, Ivy felt a connection with another human being. It made her eyes widen and her jaw to drop.

  Sam blinked once, then twice before giving his head a small shake and turning away, breaking what small connection she had felt.

  “Early in my years of hunting criminals I met a woman. Real beauty. Innocence bloomed from her every pore. It was all an act, though. That was what she wanted me to see.” His chin dropped as he turned away. “It was what I wanted to see. I spent so long struggling with the reason why my mother did what she had done. That innocence was not an illusion—it could exist. My mistake, however, cost a man and his family their lives. From that day forward I swore never to make the same mistake again.”

  Ivy frowned, lost in his pain yet knew her capture represented his atonement. Through her arrest and subsequent death, Sam would amend his wrong from the past. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to allow them to flow. Perhaps it was only fitting that their paths had finally crossed and fate would finally claim what it had once lost.

  She turned her face from him, not wanting to reveal the turmoil she felt bubbling under the surface. Her eyes fell upon the horse, still fully saddled and knew soon they would be heading out again and arriving in Fort William before nightfall.

  Sam’s words confirmed her thoughts. “Not far now. Just another hour or two westward. Town will be bustling with folks. One could easily disappear if they were wanting. Train heads west into prairie territory or south across the border. Boats coming and going into port. Not to mention they have coach service leaving town on a daily basis.”

  The tips of Ivy’s brows lowered toward the bridge of her nose as she listened to his words. The jiggling of his cuffs had her head turning abruptly.

  “Mighty tired though. Think we’ll call it a night and head on in tomorrow.”

  She watched him closely.

  “Goin’ fetch us some dinner now,” he said with a slight nod as he laid the cuffs down on a nearby log and turned toward the woods. “Be back in a bit.”

  He was gone before she could even lift her jaw.

  * * *

  Sam took his time hunting. He wasn’t going anywhere tonight. He only hoped neither was Ivy. He realized the only way to gain her trust was to earn it.

  She had still not revealed what happened the night of the murder. But he knew in his heart that Ivy was no killer. There was a time he thought he could never trust a person again. Let alone a woman. Yet in just under a week’s time, Ivy had restored a part of him he thought died that day at the hands of his mother. Her frosty blue eyes had somehow melted the ice around his heart and pumped life back into it.

  A tiny fox scurried across his path. He raised his gun and shot it. He couldn’t put off returning to camp much longer. Looking back in the direction he left her, he swallowed the sudden lump at the back of his throat. Would she still be there?

  Taking a deep, weary breath, he picked up the carcass and headed back. He could only hope Ivy accepted his gesture of trust.

  The light of the fire through the woods was his first sight of camp. But it was the silence which reached him first. Pushing past the last branch into the clearing he stopped and looked around. It was empty. She had gone and taken the horse.

  Disappointment filled him more than he expected. A bigger part than he realized, believed she would have stayed behind. Would have trusted him. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. After all, his sole purpose in tracking her down was to watch her swing from the gallows. And if there was one thing he did know about Ivy McGregor, was that she would not go willingly to her death.

  Still, he had hoped over the past few days, particularly the latter, she came to trust him. Explained what had happened. In the end, she chose to run rather than him.

  On the ground folded neatly was the pelt and wool blanket. He sighed and began making his bed for the long night. He doubted sleep would find him for his thoughts were entirely on Ivy and whether she made it safely. He wouldn’t be going after her. She made her choice, he would respect it. But he would do everything in his power to prove her innocence.

  As predicted he tossed and turned for the most part of the night. The morning seemed far off but he wanted to ensure she had plenty of headway before he followed her into the city. By then she would have disappeared.

  At last, sleep claimed him and he fell into a heavy slumber. Exhaustion, both physically and emotionally, finally caught up. He actually looked forward to the comfort of a real bed once he reached town. And a meal.

  When his eyes flickered open again, the early morning sun lit up the woods. He blinked and tried to clear his head. The sound of a horse nearby had him going still. His first thought was of the Indian. He didn’t even consider Ivy.

  Slowly he turned around. There standing tied to a tree, was the horse he bought off the logger. Its saddle and blanket removed and sitting next to it on the ground. Sam frowned and turned around all the way. Something lying next to him caught his attention. Or rather someone.

  With a start, he saw Ivy’s pale blue eyes staring up at him. She looked almost sad and he knew how difficult of a decision it had been for her to come back. He rolled over completely to face her. Tenderness filled his heart and he wanted to reach out and touch her. Verify that she was real.

  Very softly, she spoke. “I didn’t kill him.”

  Such a simple statement, but a wave of joy filled his insides. Without even realizing it, he had been holding on to the fear that he might have been wrong. Though his heart had already known. He smiled and reached out to gently lay a hand against her cheek.

  “I know.”

  Her face twitched and he thought she might cry. He leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. She did not resist.

  “I won’t hurt you, Ivy,” he whispered against her lips. “Ever.”

  He was close enough to hear her swallow, the smallest sign of panic reflected in her eyes, yet he knew it was the unknown they were about to embark on that had her frightened. Sam felt the same.

  Lifting his hand, he ran it over the wool of her cloak above her breast. Against his lips, he felt her suck in a small breath. He lifted his head and gazed down into her face. She stared back openly and bravely.

  Slowly, he moved his hand and allowed it to explore the curves of her body. She lay back against the pelt with her eyes transfixed on his face, her chest beginning to rise higher with every breath she took. Still with their eyes locked, he reached for the hem of her cloak and pulled it up and over her head. Underneath she wore a simple gray linen blouse kept closed with a single row of five buttons. Very deliberately, he unbuttoned the top one around her throat, then worked his way down until the material fell away, exposing the white chemise beneath. She wore no corset as so many women did. One of her many attempts at concealing the beautiful woman she was.

  Her nipples came erect instantly from the exposure to the cold air. His member became hard simply from seeing her pink nipples through the thin material. He laid his hand once again on her breast over the cotton material and took some pleasure from the swift intake of her breath.

  Bending his head, he covered the rose peak with his mouth while he moved his hand to her waistline and tugged the hem out from her skirt. His hand made contact with warm skin and a fiery heat exploded in his gut. Beneath his fingers, he felt her tremble. He lifted his head and looked down into her face. Raw desire spewed from her eyes.

  “Ivy?”

  “I’ve never felt this way before. Ever.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” Her voice shook with desire, sending a wave of long
ing through Sam. He covered her mouth once more, but this time he drank from her sweet lips as if they provided the very breath he needed to survive.

  Her arms came around and drew him closer, pressing their bodies together. A need to feel her skin against his own, had his hands working at a feverish pitch to unbutton his own shirt. To his delight, her fingers joined his in an attempt to move faster. He groaned and ground his lips harder against hers.

  With a thrust, he pushed off his shirt then grasped her chemise. A sizzling heat erupted along every nerve beneath his skin as it touched hers. His hands found her naked breasts only to cover them with his lips. She moaned and arched her back to draw him closer.

  With his mouth occupied on her breasts, his hands were free to explore the rest of her wonderful body. Everywhere he touched seemed to ignite a new fire within her. The cool, aloof woman was gone. Replaced instead with a vibrant and sexually alive one.

  With this new fiery woman beneath him, he couldn’t hold himself off much longer. He lifted her skirt and the petticoat beneath over her waist. Driven by an urgency he was incapable of controlling he yanked off her pantaloons and slid in between her legs. He managed to pause, just barely, as her legs came up and around him, locking together behind his back.

  Breathing hard, he grasped her face between his hands. “Ivy, are you a virgin?”

  She blinked several times, obviously struggling to pull herself from the passion consuming her body to concentrate on his words. “Aye.”

  His first reaction was relief for he knew if she had lost her virginity, it would not have been with her consent. Then like a silly schoolboy picked to be teacher’s pet, he smiled down at her and said, “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

  Slowly, he placed his shaft against her opening and gently moved forward. She squirmed slightly beneath him. He gathered her close to hold her still before finally proceeding further, stopping now and then when he felt her body tense. Only when she relaxed again did he proceed. At last he reached her barrier and with one final thrust, broke through.

  When she gave a small whimper, he pressed a kiss against her temple. With one hand, he gently massaged the opening of her womanhood where his member remained deeply embedded.

  “What are ye doing?” She sounded slightly alarmed, so he pulled his hand away and drew up so he could look down at her. But she bound her arms around him and drew him back down. “Please. Don’t stop.”

  He chuckled, unable to resist. This woman was everything he could have ever wanted. He lavished her face with more kisses, while his fingers toyed with the soft folds between her legs until he felt her body begin to relax. Then very gently, he moved within her. As much as it tried his self-control, he moved slowly to allow Ivy’s body to adjust.

  When he heard her groan with desire beneath him and her arms slide around to clutch his buttocks, did he finally allow himself to release all the tension and desire he had been holding back. He drove into her like a mad man. Wanting, needing, to feel her close around him. Engulf him entirely until they became one.

  Never before had he ever felt such a connection with any other woman. It both scared and thrilled him. For the first time in years, he felt alive. At last he felt the wondrous release rip from his body and into hers, overwhelmed by the glow of warmth that swept over his entire body.

  With a cry of release, he collapsed on top of her reveling in the heat of her arms as they came around and pinned him close. He pressed his mouth to the base of her throat and sucked in her sweet flesh until at last the heat subsided replaced by a calm warmth.

  He stayed in that position as long as he thought possible before his weight would become unbearable. Shifting, he slid onto his back and pulled her into the crook of his shoulder. Her copper curls bounced across his chest. The scent of her hair rising to meet his indrawn breath of satisfaction.

  Lifting his chin slightly, he buried his nose in the luxurious curls and realized that while the red locks had taunted him, they also had lured him. He wondered how they would look long and flowing in their natural glory.

  Against him, he felt Ivy shiver. “Cold?” he asked while drawing the pelt closer.

  “Just a little.”

  “We should get dressed,” he said, though it was the last thing he wanted. He was enjoying the feel of her naked breasts pressed against his chest.

  “I suppose.” But she made no effort to move.

  He lifted a hand and ran his fingers through her hair. “Ivy?”

  “Hmm?”

  “We need to talk.”

  He felt her go stiff. “What about?”

  “The night of the murder.” She pulled out of his arms and reached for her blouse and pantaloons. Sam could have kicked himself for bringing it up at such an inopportune time. It wasn’t his intention to ruin the moment. He wanted nothing more than to pull her back into his arms and forget anything had ever happened in Chicago, but the logical side of his brain reared its ugly head. If he was going to clear her name, he had better learn to rein in his desire and concentrate on the task at hand. With a sigh, he reached for his own shirt.

  “I don’t know what happened that night.” She spoke softly. “The last time I saw Philip Hendrickson, he was cussing and shouting insults at me. And very much alive. I didn’t know of his death until ye informed me.”

  “There was an eyewitness and the dress they recovered was coated in blood. It was identified as belonging to you.”

  She lifted her chin and stared at him. “I did not kill him.”

  “I believe you, Ivy, but if I’m going to clear your name, we have to get to the bottom of this. No matter how painful.”

  He saw the flush in her cheeks before she dropped her face from his gaze, and Sam knew she wasn’t telling him everything. Even now, she still withheld secrets. It would take a lot more than setting her free to gain her trust.

  Capturing her chin, he tilted her face back up to his. “Talk to me, Ivy. What happened that night?”

  There was a moment’s pause where he could clearly see the doubts flickering across her face. Then she gulped and told him, “I don’t know.”

  He sighed and dropped her chin. “What do you know?”

  “Nothing.”

  “All right, let’s start at the beginning. If you did not murder him, why would someone claim to have seen you do it? Was there a relationship going on between the two of you? Did you get into a quarrel that night?”

  She paused, then said, “We were not lovers, but we did quarrel the night I left.”

  “What about?” He could tell by her expression she wasn’t happy to talk about it. “Ivy? What about?”

  “The usual. We had a difference of opinions. He was of the opinion he could use me body to release his sexual needs, and I was of the opinion he could go to hell.”

  Sam couldn’t help but smirk and feel a tingling of pride. “All right. So what type of relationship did you have?”

  “None. Apart from employer and employee.”

  “How did you start working for him?”

  “I did not work for him, but rather his parents. Mr. Hendrickson had been abroad when I first got work in their kitchen.”

  “When was that?”

  “Three years back. I had been working at a laundry shop in the city for about a year and hated every minute of it. But it enabled me to meet Stella Taylor. She was older than me, but we got along well. We spoke often when she came in with her weekly laundry. After a few months, she informed me there was a position open in the home of her employers.”

  “The Hendrickson’s?”

  “Aye. She was their housekeeper and most senior staff member. It was her duty to manage the rest of the staff. The position she offered was of a chambermaid. Quite high in the hierarchy really. I thought it a godsend. Much better work than soaking me hands in filthy laundry all day. In hindsight, I should have known it was too good to be true.”

  Her voice trailed off as her mind apparently travelled back to the past. He allowed her to go f
or a brief visit, but when a dark shadow crossed her features, he drew her back. “Go on, Ivy.”

  “The early years everything went on smoothly. The Hendrickson’s were decent folks, particularly Orville Hendrickson, the master of the home. The misses, however, ignored me, but it allowed me to blend in with the rest of the staff. At that time Phillip Hendrickson had been away travelling abroad for years. I had never met him, but I had heard whispers among the staff. He was a typical spoiled rich young man who never worked a day in his life. He had no idea what it meant to struggle and believed whatever he wanted he was allowed to have. Which included sexual relations with the female staff. Particularly the younger girls.

  “So when he returned home this past summer I was on me guard. I made certain I kept out of his way and not left alone in a room with him. Me efforts, however, only increased his interest in me. He paged for me several times to the privacy of his bedchamber. Each time I had managed to fend him off. After all, I had handled much worse.”

  It killed him to hear her admit as much. How he wished he could track down that bastard who had tortured her and her sister for so many years and left her so internally scarred.

  “It made him furious. Not because he desired me so, but because I outwitted him. No other female had ever stood up against his assaults.” She broke off once more, her mind proceeding even if her voice did not. Though the hurt which darkened her eyes told him already what happened before she spoke the words.

  “Is that why you left?”

  “Not immediately.” She continued. “But Mr. Hendrickson’s advances came to the point they were unbearable. That night after he attacked me for the last time, I became very upset, I suppose a bit hysterical. He in turn became angry and struck me across the face. I foolishly struck him back. When he hit me for the second time, the blow knocked me to the floor. Blood fell from me mouth.”

  Sam cursed savagely. If the man wasn’t already dead, he would have enjoyed watching him suffer, while Sam tore each limb, one by one from the man’s pathetic person. He dragged his mind back to her words, forcing himself to concentrate on what she told him.