Carrie’s smile was touched with sadness. Jay could tell she was putting on a game face. A thousand times, he had wanted to back out of this marriage. What had he done? Carrie didn’t want to marry him, wouldn’t have married him, if she hadn’t needed his money. Now he was no better than Carter. No better than the man he had vowed not to imitate.
“I’m sorry it turned out this way.” Jay’s voice carried the sincerity he felt. His optimism had vanished during the last two weeks. Now he felt young and inexperienced. Naive. Stupid. And they were feelings he didn’t want to have in front of the woman he loved.
Carrie cocked her head to the side. “I know what it is. You’ve got cold feet,” she teased. “What’s the matter? Are you still a virgin?”
His breath hitched. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
Chapter Thirteen
Carrie sat cross-legged on the king sized bed. A single light illuminated the master bedroom of the chalet, and from the bathroom the steady hiss of the shower drowned out the thudding of her heart. Still clad in her shorts and tank top, Carrie couldn’t force herself to get ready for bed. Slowly, she licked her lips.
Jay’s revelation had stunned her. Her new husband was a contradiction. She cast a surreptitious glance at the bathroom door. Imagine, at twenty-five, he had never slept with a woman. It made her feel old and worldly wise, too experienced. She wondered at the man she had married.
“I wanted to keep it special for my wife,” he had told her as they had walked into the chalet. “Marriage is a holy covenant between a man and a woman. I wanted it to mean something.”
Holy? Covenant? She marveled at his words. Perhaps his mother had stressed the importance of marriage. Perhaps seeing his father’s many wives had given him the idea. Whatever had caused his convictions, Jay Preston’s old-fashioned ideals had certainly made Carrie take another look at him.
Did he believe what he said about marriage? Why then had he offered her this sham of one? Carrie lifted her hands and began to unbind the heavy braid hanging down her back. Maybe Jay was some sort of knight-errant, reincarnated from a distant past. He took his pledge to care for her and Jesse seriously. Just how seriously did he take his wedding vows?
More importantly, how seriously did she take them? Once again, confusion nauseated her. She shook her head from side to side, shaking the plaits loose and hoping to jar some sense into her brain. Jay deserved a good wife. He deserved to be loved. When she had taken her vows, she had promised both. No matter her misgivings, she realized she wanted to fulfill her pledge to this man who had brought her so much.
Tilting her chin up, she ran her fingers through the tight hair of her scalp, releasing the blond tendrils around her face. With quiet deliberation, she stroked her cheeks and rubbed the tenseness from her neck. She shut her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. When she opened them, it was with a renewed sense of purpose. Carrie jumped from the bed, drawing her tank top over her head and unsnapping her bra. Now in a hurry, she slipped out of her shorts and panties, and dropped them onto the floor.
Opening the bathroom door, Carrie was met by steam and the smell of soap. Jay’s shadow against the shower curtain made her pause for just a moment. Her stomach began to flutter, not with nerves but with anticipation. Tossing her hair, she shut the door and went forward quietly, pulling back the curtain and stepping into the tub.
Jay was letting the hot water hit his face and sluice over his body. Sensing her, he spun around. Color spread across her cheekbones as she watched the startled look in his eyes. He stared at her, water striking the back of his head. The steam made it hard for Carrie to breath. Or was it Jay? His very maleness was so wet and tempting. A sweet burn began in the spot between her legs. She swallowed once as they stood staring at each other. Transfixed. Immobile.
Carrie glanced down to see the proof of his wanting. She took the bath sponge from his hand and lifted it to his chest. With lingering strokes, she began to circle the wet, copper curls on Jay’s chest. He sucked in a quick, hard breath.
Raising her gaze to his face, she saw another proof that he wanted her in his eyes. Her own need flared. Jay took a step toward her, touching her shoulders, drawing her near in the narrow tub.
And then they slipped and toppled sideways, with a loud whoosh, pulling the shower curtain over with them onto the floor.
“Oh, my!” Carrie said with a laugh.
“Are you okay?”
Jay’s arms circled her slippery shoulders. Their legs and feet were tangled together hanging off the side of the tub. Carrie looked down at Jay, who had cushioned her fall much as he’d cushioned Jesse’s. Her breast pushed up against his wet chest, their noses near to each other, their lips ever so close, her soaking hair creating a curious drape over both their bodies.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m okay.” Jay started to laugh, making a throaty rumble that wouldn’t stop.
Carrie choked with laughter too. It was infectious, like her desire only moments before.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he begged through his hiccups. “It will spoil my reputation.”
“I promise.”
Jay hauled his legs off the side of the tub, and for a brief instant, as he was trying to untangle legs and feet, his thigh brushed against hers.
The laughter ceased. Carrie looked into his eyes. The shock of desire was written in his gaze. Suddenly she burned with fever. Air refused to find her lungs. Somehow Jay made it to his feet, hit the faucet with his hand to turn off the shower, and pulled her from the floor. He crushed her to him. He was wet. The whole length of him. Wet and hard. All thoughts of being the teacher left Carrie’s mind. She just responded, as women had done for centuries. Jay’s instinct was right. He kissed her and then released her quickly, taking her by the hand and leading her into the bedroom.
Carrie had already stripped the bedspread away. A vast white sea of crisp sheets awaited them, and Jay pulled her down with him on the bed, letting her settle on top. She straddled his thighs and rubbed the burning spot against him. Back and forth. Back and forth. He groaned. With her hands by the side of his head, Carrie lowered her mouth to his. To his warm and moist lips that she captured like a wild thing. His response equaled hers, surpassed it, and he conquered her tongue like a warrior knight.
She was wet too, in intimate places, and hot with a passion that surprised her. She wanted to be taken fast. Positioning herself, she directed him into her wetness and pushed down on him, letting him fill her with a burning fullness.
“Carrie!”
Jay’s gaze caressed her and then his lashes drifted over his eyes and his face grew tormented with need. Carrie gulped air, watching him enjoy her. She could make it sweeter. She could play the wanton and drive him to insanity. Slowly she began to move. Up and down, undulating with the power of her womanhood. He writhed beneath her, and she broke out in sweat, her breath now coming in quick gulps.
She could selfishly control its flame, just as she controlled his growing inferno. Jay thrust into her, and she wiggled, pressing harder on him, causing him to moan her name.
“I can’t stop. I can’t stop!” he cried out, his eyes flying open.
“Jay.”
“Oh, oh.”
Carrie shut her eyes as Jay shuddered beneath her, and bearing down, rubbing harder, she brought her own passion to its culminating peak in a soft groan of exploding awareness.
Her arms suddenly incapable of holding her body weight, she collapsed along the length of him, with him still inside, and turned her head to the side.
“Oh, Carrie, I love you,” Jay murmured into the tangle of her hair.
By the time Jay’s breathing had grown regular in sleep, Carrie’s heart had stopped beating wildly. She turned her head to look at his relaxed face, the angular plane of his cheekbones, the soft pout of his mouth, and snuggling up near his neck, she whispered, “I love you too.”
And the words filled her with a deep fear.
Chapter Fourteen
The Kentucky State Fair
Late August
Carrie wrinkled her nose at the odd mixture of horse manure and corn dogs wafting in the hot August air—scents to be expected at the Kentucky State Fair where the weather was like a steam bath. The mammoth, air-conditioned exhibition buildings, beginning to stir with fairgoers, were inviting because of the heat. Carrie, Jesse and Jay headed into the North wing, where temporary horse stalls were set up inside.
“Hurry up!” Jesse ran ahead of them.
“We’re coming.” Carrie grinned because of her daughter’s enthusiasm and glanced up at Jay who was walking beside her.
He winked, which caused a sudden flutter in her stomach. Looking away, she realized Jay had made all this possible—their morning trip to the fair to watch Jesse’s friends ride in the horse show. By rights, Carrie should be in the classroom. Because of her marriage to Jay, she had resigned her position so she could spend more time with Jesse. They still lived in Mary’s prefabricated home. Yet that would soon change. They were shopping for their own house.
Carrie wished she could feel completely happy about the situation, but she was reluctant to let go of her mistrust. Shutting her heart to Jay during the day, she kept him at arm’s length, preventing the emotional intimacy she craved. Only at night did she open her heart and give into her desires. Only then did the powerful intimacy that blazed between them take over.
She cast a veiled look at Jay, his hair now returning to its copper thickness. Her attitude wasn’t fair, but life wasn’t fair. A person made the best of things and tried not to hurt people in the process.
A stab of remorse thrust at Carrie. In doing her best for Jesse, she was hurting Jay. She knew it by the look that sometimes flashed in his eyes. Sure, they had arrived at a silent agreement, but her standoffishness disturbed him. Carrie didn’t want things to be that way, but it was. And she let it go on because she didn’t quite know how to fix it.
Mary had reserved ten stalls for the week of the fair, each one covered in green and navy gauze fabric, the Wildwood Stables colors. All competing stables decorated their stalls in the same manner, transforming temporary metal stalls with vibrant colors and giving their homes for a week an elegant appearance. Each stable provided a reception area where clients and guests could gather with chairs and end tables, pictures of champion horses, and an array of colorful ribbons hanging on display.
Jesse had already scampered into the reception area where her friend Meg sat in front of her mother.
“Be still or I’ll never get you ready,” Meg’s mom said. She was trying to pin her daughter’s unruly hair into a bun.
Carrie could well relate to the harried look in the woman’s eyes. Getting a ten-year-old dressed and coifed to ride in a horse show was stressful at best. Carrie had never gotten a child ready to ride at Freedom Hall in the biggest horse show of the season—the World’s Championship.
Jay had promised Carrie that Jesse could ride at the State Fair next year. Carrie’s heart constricted with guilt as she remembered his promise. How could she keep taking from him without giving something back? He was the most generous man she had ever known. Even Tate could not compare, for even though her first husband had provided the security, he had cut off his heart, keeping it from her and keeping her isolated.
The comparison hit Carrie hard. Her fingers curled into fists as she tried to catch her breath. The chit-chat between Meg’s mom and Jay passed unheard over her head. Tate had made their married life a miserable charade. She was doing the same to Jay.
Shame warmed her cheeks and tightened her stomach into knots.
“Mom,” Jesse said, “we’ve got to go if we want to see the first class,”
“I’m ready.” Carrie flashed a look of encouragement toward Meg’s mom and joined her family to the walk into Freedom Hall and the show arena.
Her family. The concept was still overwhelming. Jay was a warm and loving father just as Jesse’s own had been. Ironically, he wanted to be a warm and loving husband. If she would let him, Carrie thought, her head beginning to pound.
Jay dropped back a step to watch Carrie and Jesse. The two women in his life were like mirror objects of each other. He never tired of seeing the sway of Carrie’s hips or the swing of her braid against them. Recollections of her unbound hair tickling his nose and straying across his chest were enough to cause his eyes to twinkle with arousal.
“C’mon, Jay.” Jesse turned to urge him on.
Carrie glanced back, and after a slight hesitation, offered her hand. Startled by the open invitation, he caught up to her and took it. Her cool hand, clasped in his, grew warm from the contact. Hers was a firm grasp. Even when he pressed her fingers gently with his own, she didn’t let go. She continued walking, holding his hand, as if he had belonged by her side forever.
Time was on his side, Jay knew that. Time and persistence. He had the tenacity of a good computer programmer. If one thing didn’t work, there was always another way. Maybe the back door approach would do more for him than a full-fledged frontal assault. Jay smiled at the erotic thought that popped irreverently into his mind.
Morning sessions at the horse show were free, so the three of them strolled up the long ramp to the second section of seats that ringed Freedom Hall. An arena made famous by University of Louisville basketball games until the new arena opened downtown, it had been transformed into a show horse venue. Green sawdust blanketed the floor. The judges’ table in the center of the show surface was flanked by yellow mums. Around the brightly lit arena, the names of horses who had won the five-gaited World’s Grand Championship were proudly displayed.
They found seats directly overlooking the arena as one class ended. Exhibitors led a group of weanlings out of the ring and up a long ramp to the makeup area beyond. The gates closed behind them.
“Kimberly Moreman is in this next class,” Jesse told them. “Eight and under walk-trot equitation.”
She had the slick horse show program on her lap. It was so big that it looked like a department store catalog.
When the gate opened, high-stepping equitation horses with trimmed manes entered the arena ridden by children in formal wool riding suits and Derby hats. Chins and hands high, the eight-year-olds circled the arena in perfect imitations of their adult counterparts. After the last little girl rode down the long ramp on a big chestnut horse, the gate closed and the class was underway.
The last entrant circled beneath them. The proud lift of her head attracted Jay. A navy Derby almost obscured her copper-colored hair, which was pulled back into a bun like all the others.
Suddenly Jay’s throat grew tight and dry. “That’s Gloria,” he said in a controlled whisper.
“Gloria?” Carrie gave him a surprised look. “Which one?”
“There. The last one.”
They both sat forward to clutch the railing. “What’s she doing here?” Carrie spoke the question on Jay’s mind.
“I don’t know. But she has the rest of those little kids beat.”
Sure enough, when the announcer called out the pick of the judges, Gloria Preston’s name was first. As she rode to receive the blue ribbon, Jay pressed Carrie’s arm. “I’m going to try to catch her. I should have enough time because she must make a victory pass.”
Carrie’s eyes searched his. She squeezed his arm. “Hurry up.”
Jay nodded and shot out of his seat. He ran all the way down the ramp and toward the back of the arena, his mind whirling with a thousand questions. What was his little sister doing in Kentucky?
He reached the makeup area behind Freedom Hall just as Gloria rode up the incline from the arena. Jay slipped past the guard into the area reserved for exhibitors. “Glory!”
His sister twisted in the saddle and looked back at him. “Jay?”
“Yeah.” Jay joined her, letting his fingers touch her wool riding coat to make sure she was real. “You were terrific. I knew you would win.”
She was smiling. “Carter let me
come. Aren’t you glad? I won a blue ribbon.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“Are you coming back to the barn with me?” she asked. Gloria’s trainer stood nearby, and smiled when he looked her way.
“Tell me where you’re located. I’ll find you.”
“Barn T,” the trainer said. “Come along, Gloria. We must get out of the way.”
Gloria waved goodbye. When Jay turned around, Carter was standing right behind him.
“It’s good to see you, son.”
Jay’s stomach felt cold. “Is it?”
Carter had the grace to flush. “Yes it is. I was worried about you.”
“You could have called.” His tone was bitter. In his mind Jay heard Carrie accusing him of childish anger. He swallowed hard.
“Mrs. Mercer kept me informed.”
“Mrs. Preston now,” Jay said, unable to hide the touch of pride in his voice.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
The sizzling heat and humidity behind the arena was suddenly unbearable. Jay clutched his fingers together into a fist, a subconscious gesture of self-defense. He was on the defensive with Carter—tense, closed up, with his breath rushing raggedly in and out of his lungs. He hated his feeling of impotence, looking at his father eye-to-eye, neither one giving in. They stared at each other for long moments.
Carter was to the first to speak. “We’re in the way here. We’d better move.”
“Sure.” Jay followed Carter out of the exhibitor’s area and back into the air conditioned building.
Something inside of him changed, and his anger flared once more. It might be childish, but it was the way he felt. In silent defiance of Carrie, he confronted his father.
“What are you doing here?”
“As hard it may be for you to believe, I brought Gloria here to show. I had no idea she was such a good rider.” The pride in Carter’s voice was evident.
“How could you know?” Jay ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “You never were around to watch her.”
Kentucky Groom Page 11
