Heartstrings

by Rebecca Paisley

  It seemed to Theodosia that the pleasure had no end. Even when the ecstasy crested, it continued for long moments that had her writhing wildly beneath Roman’s masterful touch.

  Finally, it began to ebb gently away, leaving Theodosia in a state of complete and perfect contentment.

  “Thank you, Roman,” she whispered. Opening her eyes, she looked down at him and smiled.

  He laid his head on her thigh and reached up to caress her breast. Only when he saw that her breathing had returned to normal did he speak. “It didn’t hurt when you stretched your legs up like that?” he asked, curious as hell as to how she could have done such a thing without the slightest show of pain.

  “Yoga,” she answered dreamily. “It’s Hindu theistic philosophy. A system of exercises, if you will, for attaining bodily and mental control and wellbeing. There is a lot of stretching involved, and over the years, I have become quite agile.”

  Roman wasn’t quite sure what Hindu exercises were, but he decided the Hindus probably had as much fun making love as the Tibetans.

  “I scratched you,” Theodosia said, noticing the long red marks on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He moved to lie beside her, then took her into his arms.

  His sex felt like fire on her skin, making her realize that although she had found fulfillment, he had not. “You remain in a thoroughly aroused state, Roman.”

  He held his breath, wondering if she planned to do something about his problem.

  But in the next instant he dismissed the idea. He suspected she would comply if he asked, but every instinct he possessed warned that she wasn’t ready for anything more tonight.

  He planted a small kiss on her forehead. “Being in this state is nothing new to me, Theodosia.” Especially since I met you, he added silently.

  “But I could—although I am not certain how—perhaps if you showed me—”

  “No.” He held her more tightly, pondering her sweet proposal and the generosity behind it. The other women he’d known in his life had always demanded and taken from him. They’d never given back.

  Theodosia was the first who had ever even offered.

  He kissed her forehead again.

  At his tender gesture, her affection for him rose. Again, she thought about how she longed for him to take her full circle. For him to make true love to her. Their union would be glorious, she knew.

  She closed her eyes tightly, frustration twisting inside her. Roman could not be her lover. He could be her friend and nothing more.

  And if she continued to forget that fact, she would never see Lillian holding a child.

  Struggling to subdue the sadness that suddenly darkened her mood, she opened her eyes. “Roman, when we were in the meadow,” she whispered, “I asked if you’d ever had a friend. You failed to answer me.”

  He suspected she was doing that psychology thing on him again and waited to feel irritated.

  No irritation came to him. Instead, he knew a genuine desire to be as honest with her as she had been with him.

  “No, Theodosia,” he murmured, drawing his fingers up and down her arm. “I’ve known a lot of people, but I’ve never stayed in any one place long enough to make a real friend. What about you?”

  She kneaded the muscle beneath his nipple and continued to struggle with frustration and melancholy. “Like you, I am acquainted with a great many people. I study with them. I hold discussions with them. Until I met you, I considered them friends. I understand now, however, that I erred in my judgment. A friend is a favored companion, and although I enjoyed the company of the people I know in Boston, I enjoy yours ever so much more. I like being with you.”

  Her admission made him feel beyond wonderful.

  “Roman?” She buried her face in the thick black satin of his hair. “Would you consider… What I mean to say is that—” She paused for a moment, dwelling on her special feelings for him. “I think of you as a friend. And I would like to be your friend as well. A friendship usually exists without verbal proclamation, but—well, taking into account your negative feelings toward women, I feel the need to verify the actuality of such an affectionate association.”

  He couldn’t answer and feigned sleep.

  Disbelief pumped through him as he lay there with his eyes closed.

  The first real friend he’d ever had was a woman.

  While driving the wagon out of the town of Red Wolf, Theodosia skimmed Melvin Priestly’s letter once more:

  Miss Worth,

  Please forgive me for the inconvenience I have caused, but I will be unable to meet you for breakfast this morning. Moreover, I fear I must withdraw my application for the position of siring the child.

  Sincerely,

  Melvin Priestly

  Her brow furrowed in consternation. “I cannot imagine why Melvin changed his mind,” she said to Roman’s back. “He gave no reason whatsoever in his note.”

  Roman rode ahead, glad she couldn’t see his smile. “How’s your new horse?”

  Theodosia glanced at the small horse she’d purchased to replace the one Mamante had taken. “Fine,” she replied absently, still pondering the oddness of Melvin’s sudden decision.

  Another part of her, however, some deep place within her breast, felt relieved that Melvin hadn’t shown up. She told herself that her relief stemmed from the fact that she was not yet ready to submit to being bedded. That she needed a bit more time to dwell on the things she would be doing with the man who mirrored Upton in every way.

  But that same deep place within her breast also sheltered the truth. Her feelings for Roman had a great deal to do with her reluctance to lie with another man, and although she knew she would eventually go through with her original plans when she found a replica of Upton, she knew also that it would be the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

  “Roman, what do you suppose happened to Melvin?’’ she made herself ask.

  Roman’s grin grew as he wondered if anyone in Red Wolf had found Melvin Priestly yet. Having found Melvin before the man reached the hotel, he’d forced him to pen the note of cancellation to Theodosia and had then bound, gagged, and stuffed him into a shed behind the schoolhouse.

  “Roman?”

  “What? Oh. Uh, he probably just got tied up. Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it to Enchanted Hill by tonight. There are a lot of men there.”

  He grinned again. Enchanted Hill had its share of men, all right, but most of them were uneducated farmers who ventured into town only when they needed supplies. Roman had met most of the townsmen and knew that in one way or another none would satisfy Theodosia’s requirements.

  And the schoolteacher was an elderly woman for whom he’d once built a desk.

  “You’ll get to see Enchanted Hill when we get to the town, Theodosia,” he called. Slowing his stallion, he waited for her to catch up with him. “Legend has it that the hill has the power to grant wishes.”

  She gazed up at him, thinking his eyes much bluer than the sky. “I have told you before what I think about wishing.”

  He stopped Secret abruptly, deciding there was no time like now to change a bit of Theodosia’s thinking. “Are you in a real hurry to get to Enchanted Hill? I mean, is it all right if we get there sometime tonight instead of this afternoon? Today’s Sunday, anyway, so you can’t get those fliers of yours printed. The newspaper office’ll be closed.”

  She brought the wagon to a halt. “Why would you delay our arrival?”

  He didn’t answer, but the telltale twinkle of mischief she saw in his eyes fairly blinded her.

  Holding on to the tree trunk, Theodosia swallowed the last of her raisin sandwich and looked down to watch her bare feet swing through the air. The ground lay at least twenty feet below. She’d never been in a tree before, and she’d certainly never been in a tree dressed in only her chemise and petticoats.

  She smiled, thinking of how she’d gotten up in the tree. Like a big male gorilla, Roman had had her hang on to his
back while he’d scaled the tree. He’d brought John the Baptist’s cage up into the tree as well, claiming the bird needed to get back into his natural habitat every now and then.

  The man was certainly in a silly mood today. “Having fun?” His arms stretched out to his sides for balance, Roman walked the length of the thick oak limb upon which Theodosia sat, then returned to her.

  She cringed as he dodged a thin branch that the wind blew toward his face. “I am not convinced that fun is quite the word that describes what I am feeling at this moment, Roman. But I will say that sitting on a tree limb while feasting upon raisin sandwiches is undoubtedly the oddest experience I have ever had. What possessed you to suggest we do such a bizarre thing?”

  John the Baptist pecked at a few leaves that brushed the side of his cage. “You look like a short statue, so get out,” he said, then squawked loudly. “What possessed you to suggest we do such a bizarre thing?”

  With the greatest of grace, Roman sat down beside Theodosia and tickled the bottom of her foot with his toes. “I used to do this all the time when I was a kid. Up in a tree is the best place to hide from people you don’t want to find you.”

  “I see.” She picked a leaf from a slender branch and twirled its stem between her fingers. “And the raisin sandwiches you took with you, they strike me as a lonely food. Something one would eat only in solitude. Did you eat them often?”

  “You’re hinting, aren’t you, Theodosia?”

  “Would you rather I be frank?”

  “I knew a Frank once, and I didn’t like him much. No, I’d rather you be Theodosia.”

  She watched him slap his leg as he laughed at his own joke. Biting her bottom lip, she tried to maintain what little composure could be had while sitting in a tree dressed in her underthings. After all, someone had to keep foolishness in check.

  A second later, she realized that that someone was not her. She burst into laughter, laughter that gradually tapered into giggles, which finally became a soft smile.

  Roman could not stop staring at her. He’d always thought her beautiful, but her laughter enhanced her beauty to such a degree that she seemed almost unreal. As if she’d come from a dream, or a wish. But she wasn’t a fantasy, and to reassure himself of that fact he reached for her hand and felt her warmth permeate his senses. “You’re enjoying being up in this tree, huh?”

  “Strange though it is to me, yes.” Her smile widening, she reached out and drew her finger across his bottom lip. “I don’t suppose you would tell me who it was you were hiding from when you climbed into trees, would you, Roman?” she asked, her voice as soft as the rustling of the tree branches.

  He looked down at the ground, watching as the breeze blew through dead leaves. “The bad guys.”

  “Bad guys?”

  “They were three women.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Well, one was a woman and the other two were girls who grew up into women.”

  Three! Theodosia thought. “Will you tell me about them?”

  He heard tenderness playing through the sound of her voice and remembered she was his friend, as he was hers. He squeezed her hand and nodded.

  “Yes.”

  She hadn’t expected him to yield so quickly. A thrill spun through her. “Truly? Why?”

  “Why? That’s a strange question.”

  “Be that as it may, I’d still like to know why.”

  “Who the hell knows?”

  “But surely there must be a reason.”

  “I just feel like it! God, why does there have to be a reason for everything, Theodosia? Can’t you just accept things the way they are without picking them apart?”

  “You don’t have to shout, Roman.”

  He felt immediately contrite. She couldn’t help her inquisitiveness. It was as much a part of her as his hot temper was of him. “I shouted so you could see my uvula,” he said, hoping to soothe her with a bit of teasing. “Don’t you like the look of my uvula?”

  “You—”

  “I’ll have you know that I have the sexiest uvula in all of Texas, Theodosia. Maybe in all the country. Hell, probably in the entire world.”

  “Roman, you are—”

  “Handsome?”

  She stared at him blankly for a moment before recovering from the surprise his question caused. “Yes, you are very handsome, but you are also—”

  “What do you think is handsome about me? My face?” He turned his face so she could see his profile. “My muscles?” He flexed his arm muscles for her.

  “Everything about you is handsome, Roman, but you would do well to know that you are incorrigible. Unmanageable, if you will.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  She couldn’t resist laying her hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her palm, and she loved the feeling.

  If Roman behaved any way other than the way he behaved, she mused, he would not be the Roman with whom she was so taken. “Yes, Roman, your being incorrigible is a compliment.”

  Smiling smugly, he took her leaf from her fingers and folded it. Holding it to his mouth, he blew into it.

  His action created a loud whistle that so startled Theodosia, she almost fell off the limb.

  Roman steadied her instantly. “Want to try?” He folded another leaf and handed it to her.

  Blowing into a leaf was the farthest thing from her mind, but she tried it anyway.

  Roman laughed when the noise she produced sounded more like a snorting hog than a sharp clear whistle.

  “I have not had the practice you have, Roman,” she said. “Perhaps if I had spent youthful days hiding in trees and eating raisin sandwiches, I would be as proficient at leaf-whistling as you are.”

  He slid his knife from the sheath tied around his leg and used it to scratch into the limb.

  Bits of bark flying into her lap, Theodosia waited for Roman to begin his story. She sensed his need to ponder his memories for a while and so summoned all the patience she possessed.

  Her silence had a sound to Roman. Strange as it was, he could hear her understanding, her very real interest in him.

  He felt as though he were hearing a song he’d never heard before. A beautiful song whose melody and lyrics had been written especially for him. And he knew then that sharing his past with the beautiful composer of that song would bring him a peace he’d longed to feel for years.

  “Flora was her name,” he murmured. “She was my stepmother for thirteen of the longest years time has ever made. And then there was Cordelia. And Veronica. They were her daughters, my stepsisters. Cordelia was eight when they came to live on the farm, and Veronica was nine. I was five.”

  He dug his knife into the tree limb for a while before continuing. “My mother died soon after I was born. I don’t know how my father met Flora, but I know he died about a year or so after he married her. Unlike you, I didn’t have any blood relatives to go to, so I had to stay with Flora and her daughters.”

  Just the sound of Roman’s voice convinced Theodosia that his memories were going to be as sad to her as they were to him. She swallowed, trying to prepare herself.

  “I don’t remember a whole lot about those early years, but one thing I recall well is that Flora and her daughters cried all the time. God, they never stopped.” Roman paused and ran his fingers over the marks he’d scratched into the limb. “Whenever something didn’t go their way, they cried. Flora didn’t make any sound when she cried, but Cordelia and Veronica wailed so loud that sometimes I thought they were in horrible pain. I guess I used to cry when I was little, but after I met Flora and her girls, I never cried again.”

  He continued digging the tip of his blade into the limb. “Pa’s name was Bo. Bo Montana. Sometimes, if I don’t think real hard and just let the thoughts come, I can sort of remember what he looked like. He had black hair, and he was tall. I can’t recall what color his eyes were, but maybe they were blue like mine.

  “Before Pa married Flora, he’d had a woman come to cook, clean, men
d, and all that other stuff for us. She made big meals and lots of pies. When Flora moved in, the pie lady never came back again.

  “I guess Flora started doing everything then. A year later, when Pa was gone, things changed. Flora gave Cordelia my bedroom. I must have been seven then. Before that, Cordelia and Veronica had shared a room. I had a collection of snakeskins on my bedroom wall, a squirrel-and-raccoon-tail rug on the floor, and rows of strange rocks on my windowsill. Cordelia took all my things out of the room. Flora wouldn’t let me put them anywhere else in the house, so I ended up taking them to the barn. Anyway, I started sleeping in the front room, and I slept there for thirteen years. But sometimes in the summer I slept outside.”

  Though her eyes stung, Theodosia successfully won her battle with tears. “Who did all the chores when your father was gone, Roman?” she asked softly.

  “I did the ones I could. Flora had some man come do the heavier jobs. But as soon as I was nine…or maybe I was ten…I don’t remember, anyway, around that time Flora gave me more to do so she wouldn’t have to pay the man as much money. We had our horse, a few cows, some pigs and chickens, a couple of turkeys, a vegetable garden, and small crops of corn and sorghum to tend to. I got up early and finished as much as possible, and then I went to school with Cordelia and Veronica. After school, I’d come home and work until night made it impossible to see.”

  Theodosia could see by his scowl that his mood was steadily darkening. “How long were you able to stay in school?”

  “Not long. Four years was all. I guess I was about fifteen when Flora decided I was old enough to take on the farm by myself. After that, I didn’t have time for school anymore. Cordelia and Veronica had a lot of books, though, and I’d borrow a few every now and then without them knowing. I’d read when I could, but God, there was always so much to do. So many chores, and Flora and her girls wanted so many things, made so many demands—”

  He broke off as years-old bitterness erupted inside him, and took a moment to control his heated emotions. “They were three of the greediest people ever born. They had to have new furniture, a bigger porch, a better wagon, wider windows. Some of the things they wanted I made myself, but others I had to buy. To get the money, I started working for neighbors. By the time I was sixteen, I’d done all sorts of work and there was very little I didn’t know how to do. When I was seventeen, I rebuilt the house and added three new rooms. Flora used one as a tea parlor, one as a study for her girls, and the other for her own personal sitting room.”