His breath whispered over her lips, tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. A deep trembling took hold of her. Trying not to give way, she whispered, “Am I tempting you again?”
“God, yes.” His voice was rough but his kiss very gentle. “Edith, you’re delicious.”
He kissed her again, tiny pecks that stole her response rather than demanded it. He brushed kisses over her throat and up again to her mouth, never staying long enough to let her kiss him back. Edith longed for him to slow down, to linger. Shifting restlessly on his lap, she tried to tell him her need without words.
Raising her arms, she let her fingers tangle in his hair. Touching the soft, thick strands aroused her hands unbearably. Every part of her body seemed to come to life the moment it touched his. If only he’d kiss her as he had this afternoon, that might help ease her jangled nerves.
Grasping harder, she held his head still. “I want . . .”
“Yes?” Jeff raised his head as if to see her words.
Edith felt her skin burn. “I want you to . . .” Her voice sank to a whisper. “Kiss me.”
He smoothed back the hair from her forehead. The moonlight played over his satisfied smile. “I thought I was. Am I doing it wrong?”
She sighed, frustrated. Was he really going to make her come right out and say such an unladylike thing? Glancing at his delighted face, she realized he was. She summoned up her courage and failed.
“Please let me go.”
Insultingly, he made no attempt to hold on to her as she wriggled off him. With her feet on the floor, she felt she was herself again. Except that Jeff stood up with her and her mental balance was once more profoundly tilted.
With the porch roof blocking the frivolous moonlight, Edith could be more serious. “Mr. Dane,” she said firmly, “perhaps I was unclear, out of a sense of gratitude for your coming to my rescue in St. Louis, that I ... oh, dear, what was I saying?”
“That you weren’t clear about something.” His arm slipped around her waist, his hand splayed against her side. His thumb nudged the fullness of her breast and Edith swallowed hard, scrambling to collect her scampering thoughts.
“Yes. Ah ... perhaps I wasn’t clear about my place in your house. I am here simply to do a job, to see you safely married. I think . . .” He squeezed her waist and she lost her breath.
“Safely married? Am I unsafe while single?”
She would have given worlds to confess he was most definitely a danger to her. But she dared not, for fear he would prove her right!
“You should remember that I am trying to perform my duty and stop . . . well . . .” She pulled at his hand. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” She’d never heard a more innocent tone. If she hadn’t known better, she could have believed he had no idea what she was talking about.
“That! And stop catching me.”
“Catching you?”
More softly, she said, “Kissing me. You must stop.”
“But I haven’t even started.”
Less moonlight made her more serious. And it did the same for him. There was nothing lighthearted or silly about the kiss he gave her now. It sought her out, giving her no place to hide.
The tiny sounds she made in her throat sent Jeff’s self-control careening. Edith pressed tightly to him, her eyes closed, her mouth open and seeking beneath his. He ached to bring her closer still.
Without breaking their kiss, he guided her hands beneath his coat and felt her nails prick lightly through his shirt. With a voiced sigh, he urged his fervent body against hers, remembering how eagerly she’d responded to him before. Yet even when she moved as he wanted her to, it still wasn’t enough.
Images flashed through his mind, of the passion they were about to share. He had no doubt that this was the right moment for them. But where could they go? Not into the house, they might wake the children. The barn? Right here on the porch, the moonlight gilding her exquisite body, and him kneeling over her to make her his?
“God, Edith!” The cry broke from him against his will. He didn’t want her to think even for an instant that this was her fault again. But she couldn’t possibly understand what she was doing to him, pressing against him, moving as she did.
“This is so wrong,” she sighed raggedly, her face buried in his shoulder. “Why can’t I be strong?”
“You don’t have to be strong,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I should be. I should protect you, even from me. Especially from me. But I can’t. I can’t.”
Her hair smelled of juniper and spices. Jeff pressed a kiss to her temple, smiling as a tiny curl tickled his lips. The fire that burned in his body hadn’t dissipated, but he forced it back within bounds.
“I’ll go,” Edith said.
“No, stay.” He didn’t want her to move away from him, though he swore he wanted just to hold her. Of course, even sacred vows had no power over him when she was so close to him.
“I mean, I’ll go back to St. Louis.” She turned her cheek onto his collar. “I know it won’t be long before you . . .”
He felt her stiffen, and the pressure of her hands as she pushed away. Reluctantly, he let her go, if only to arm’s length. He had to keep touching her, if with no more than his fingertips.
“Jeff, I think ... is it possible that you’re attracted to me because you don’t want to get married again?”
“How do you figure that?” His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to see that .she wore that puzzled frown he found so endearing. He knew already that the sweet puckering across her forehead meant Edith was working out the mysteries of the universe to her own satisfaction.
“It makes sense. It’s obvious I won’t be looking for a bride for you if you seduce me.”
“Edith!”
“Haven’t you been trying to seduce me?”
He stepped back and rang his hand through his hair. Somehow he knew that soon he’d be pulling it out in handfuls. “I don’t know why I’m attracted to you. Yes I do, though. You’re lovely. You’re the loveliest woman . . .”
“Miss Climson is far prettier than I am.”
“Miss Climson?”
“Yes, when she was here tonight, I thought she looked very handsome. Mr. Tyler certainly seemed to think so. Once she came in, he hardly looked at anyone else.” She’d seen no fireworks, like the ones Mr. Huneker had given off. Yet Edith had been conscious of a certain glow, though she hadn’t really seen anything.
“All right, she is pretty, I guess, if you look behind the glasses and get her hair down. . . .”
“Good, you have been thinking about her in the right way. And Miss Albans is certainly most attractive. From what I have read, the Plantagenet royal family was supposed to have hair just that color. And, of course, she is a very amusing person to talk with. She has a unique point of view.”
Jeff clutched his hair more tightly. “How on earth did we get onto this subject? Next you’ll be telling me Mrs. Green is my ideal mate because she has proven that she can have sons.”
“I don’t think you need concern yourself with Mrs. Green any further.” Edith retreated slowly, as though she were walking past a sleeping bear. Her pulse had slowed to the point where she no longer felt as though she’d just run a race. It would only take a touch from Jeff, however, to send it speeding again.
“No? What happened to her?”
“Mr. Huneker happened.”
“The butcher?”
“Oh, yes.” Edith pressed her hands together as though in prayer. “It was wonderful. He took one look at her and it was so beautiful. A genuine case of love at first sight.”
He didn’t know what she was talking about. What was so beautiful? And love at first sight only happened in women’s silly books. First passion meant nothing. Real love came only after a long time of knowing each other, after growing together. He and Gwen had been working on that kind of love when she died.
Edith said, “But it’s strange, now that I think of it. They must have met before,
often. I mean, she must buy meat.”
“Not much,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I give her a side of beef every spring.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I do. Green worked for me. He was killed on the job, struck by lightning.”
“Miss Albans was right. You are generous.”
“I can afford to be. Edith . . .” He reached for her hands. After five minutes without a touch of her, he felt like a man dying of thirst in Death Valley.
Edith moved back again, until she pressed against the porch railing. “Anyway, you should concentrate on Miss Climson and Miss Albans. I shall be most surprised if some interesting news is not heard from Mrs. Green very shortly.”
“You mean she might marry Huneker right away? They don’t even know each other. Is this more of your ‘female intuition’?”
She gave him a serene, all-knowing smile that irritated the heck out of him. Then, she grew somber. The look she fixed on him then was unnerving. She seemed to be looking at him, through him and past him all at the same time. Her frown returned, deeper and sadder, as if she’d not seen what she wanted to.
Jeff reached again for her hands. When she swept them behind her, he growled, “Fine. If that’s how you want it . . .”
He wrapped his arms around her, trapping her. Edith felt his heart hammering wildly, and for a moment she swayed, ready to surrender. But she endured his kiss without giving in, though it was a struggle she was within a heartbeat of losing.
With a groan of frustration and misery, Jeff ended his onslaught. Resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes and said, “I’m sorry. You’ve every right to resist me. I’ll leave you alone, or at least I’ll try.”
He opened his arms and stepped away, freeing her. Edith walked past him. On the threshold, she said without turning, “It’s only lust, Jeff. Which is a deadly sin. I think I can overcome mine, if you’ll try to do the same for yours.”
“I’ll try.”
It was only after her door opened and closed that Jeff realized what she’d just confessed. Lust, it seemed, ran both ways in this case. The thought elated him and depressed him at the same time. Edith wanted him for a lover, but her principles wouldn’t allow her to have him. He felt the same, but his principles were turning out to be a whole lot more feeble than he’d thought.
Though the chiming clock in the parlor had long ago sounded nine times, Jeff knew he’d never sleep as long as thoughts of Edith swirled in his head. Exhaustion was the thing. He entered the house and crept up the stairs.
Rapping softly at her door, he murmured her name. “Come on,” he urged through the white panel. “I’ve got something to say and I can’t speak loudly or we’ll wake the girls.”
Edith hadn’t had time to get undressed, only enough to take the pins from her hair. The rippling waves crimped by her hairstyle sprang free to frame her face and tumble freely to her breasts. Jeff’s eyes were drawn to her mouth. Knowing what pleasures could be had made it harder to resist. But the hurt suspicion in her twilight blue eyes kept him from stealing another kiss.
“I’m going for a walk,” he said. “Will you listen in case one of the girls needs anything?”
“Certainly. I should be happy to.”
“Thank you. Dad’ll be home soon. He’ll take over then.”
“Are you going to be gone a long time?”
“No, not long.”
“All right.” She began to close the door, her eyes still fixed on him. He heard her gasp when he stopped the door with a stiffly outstretched arm.
“I just want to say ... I won’t ever hurt you, Edith. There’s no reasonable explanation for the way I ... I leap at you. Just one of those things, I guess. But I want you to know . . . you’re absolutely safe with me.”
“I know I am, Jeff. And I promise I won’t tempt you.”
Slowly, as he tried to remember how, Jeff smiled. “That, I’m afraid, is a promise you can’t keep. Everything you do tempts me. But that’s my problem, not yours. Remember that, will you? It’s my problem.”
She nodded and closed the door. Jeff stood outside it for a long moment, wishing he felt as noble as he’d sounded. Then he heard her shoes hit the floor, one after the other. Realizing he was going to be unable to keep his imagination in check, he whipped around. Heading down the stairs as though something were after him, he knew it would have to be a long walk.
His steps led him to the Red-Eye. On the plate glass window in the front some traveling artist had painted a representation of the name—a wide-open eye, jagged veins darting out in all directions from u bilious green iris. Whether the artist had intended it or not—perhaps he’d had too much of Lashy’s whiskey—the eye had a menacing, even evil, expression.
“Hey, Lashy,” he said, walking in.
The bartender-owner gave him a yellow gap-toothed grin. “Hey there, Mr. Dane. Haven’t seen you in here in a while.”
“I’ve been in St. Louis. I’ll take a beer.”
“Sure, sure. Have a seat.”
The other customers looked up as Jeff took a seat at one of the sticky tables marked with white rings. He recognized some of the faces, the ne’er-do-wells and drifters that even a decent small town collected.
The saloon itself wasn’t much, a few tables, an out-of-tune piano, and a grubby bar. Yet it was nowhere near as serious a sink of degradation as Richey could show. Jeff imagined that Edith, however, would think it was just that.
There’d been an attempt or two to clean up Lashy’s, mostly promoted by the Armstrongs. The bar had survived even the Women’s Christian Temperance Union that had every woman and child in Richey wearing white sashes for two weeks last summer.
Jeff crossed his legs, sitting back. He remembered how Louise had held out against the pressure to pledge that she would never touch alcohol, though Mrs. Armstrong herself had tried to persuade her to sign. Jeff hadn’t interfered, leaving the matter to Louise’s conscience and good sense.
Her only reply to Mrs. Armstrong’s pretty description of the Lord and his angels waiting for her to sign the pledge was, “My daddy goes to Lashy’s. How bad can it be?”
His daughter’s simple faith had kept him out of the saloon ever since. Sam sometimes stopped in for beer and gossip. As long as Sam brought home the gossip, Jeff felt he wasn’t missing much.
Lashy brought a mug of beer over. “St. Louis, huh? Mighty nice city. Got a brother-in-law there, don’tcha?”
“Yes, that’s right.” He sipped the amber beverage. “Say, has Sullivan been in here tonight?”
“Sullivan?” Lashy, with a straggling gray beard and a habit of blinking rapidly, wiped his hands on the once white apron that hung under his low-slung belly. “Sullivan? Don’t know him.”
“Sure you do. He’s new in town. Engaged to marry the preacher’s daughter. Quick worker.”
“Yeah, quick worker.” Lashy chuckled, but his eyes blinked faster still. “Look, Mr. D. Don’t tell him it was me told you he was here, okay?”
Jeff lifted the mug to his mouth and spoke swiftly before he drank. “Why not? Is there a problem?”
“Uh, no, no problem exactly. And I don’t want there to be none. He just asked me to keep quiet if anybody comes around asking questions.”
“Sounds kind of shifty to me.”
Lashy looked uncomfortable. “Uh, I don’t ask no questions but I figure he don’t want Preacher to know he comes in here.”
“Which one is he?”
“Over there, by the pianny.”
Jeff glanced over. A young man sat at a table, repeatedly shuffling a deck of cards. He had fast, clean hands. His shiny nails, catching a gleam from the lamplight, matched the gloss on his shoe-black hair. As though aware of Jeff’s scrutiny, Sullivan looked up. His eyes darted around, checking the faces.
Catching Jeff staring, Sullivan raised his hand in half-greeting. Moving leisurely, he stood up, tapping his cards together. He put them in his pocket and sauntered over.
�
�Evening. You got a problem, friend?”
Jeff didn’t like him. Put all together—the fancy weskit, the shiny nails, the nasal voice—Victor Sullivan impressed him as a nasty piece of work. And this was Dulcie’s fiancé?
Jeff interrupted Lashy’s fast apologies by standing up. Toe to toe, the stranger came off second best in height and musculature. “No problem at all. I’m Jefferson Dane.”
At once, an ingratiating smile spread over Sullivan’s face and he held out his hand to be shaken. “Ah, yes. Dulcie’s told me so much about you, I’ve been jealous. Let me introduce myself. I’m Victor Sullivan, her fiancé.”
Jeff looked Sullivan up and down, purposely insulting. The other man just grinned. Jeff longed to haul off and wipe that smile off with his fist, but he had no right to. His reaction startled him for he had never been of a violent bent. Could Edith’s “intuition” be correct? He dismissed the notion. Every right-thinking male would feel the same longing faced with a smooth-talking scoundrel like this.
Chapter 14
Jeff didn’t stay long at Lashy’s after meeting Sullivan. There was nothing he wanted to say to the son of a bachelor, not now anyway. He had to think about whether it was right to meddle at all. He had no real duty to Dulcie, who had many friends and a family to look out for her. And now she had Edith too.
Walking along the road, he tried to talk himself out of his half-belief, growing all the time, in Edith’s intuition. After all, she hadn’t even met Sullivan, only Dulcie. It didn’t make sense that she could know anything about one person by meeting another, however closely they were involved.
The wind picked up, driving before it the smell of rain. A low rumble sounded, less loud than a heartbeat yet capable of dominating the air. The rustling leaves showed pale undersides as though in surrender to the coming storm. Jeff began to jog in his boots, for he had livestock to get safe under cover.
He liked to run, to shut his mind of everything but the pounding of his feet and the hurrying of his heart. Figuring he had about half a mile to go, he kept his pace easy for he didn’t want to be too beat to work when he got home.
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