The Right Wife

by Beverly Barton

  “I never want to hurt you, Maggie.” He took her in his arms, holding her tenderly. “I had no right to make love to you when I can’t offer you marriage.”

  “Will tonight be good-bye? Is this the end for us?” She pulled away, waiting for his reply.

  “I want you, but I won’t lie to you. I plan to marry Eunice.” He turned from her, ashamed of wanting her passionately and loving her so completely when he had no right.

  “I want you,” she whispered as she walked to stand in front of the tall windows, moonlight setting her hair aflame. “One . . . last . . . time.”

  When he turned around, he stood motionless, devouring the sight of her as she unbuttoned her tan muslin dress, slipped her arms out of the sleeves, and pushed it down her hips, letting it fall silently to the floor. Her cotton petticoats followed, and then the chemise, leaving her standing in the moonlight wearing only a corset and drawers. She breathed deeply, her large breasts rising and falling enticingly.

  “Maggie—”

  “No. Don’t say anything. Not yet.”

  Ever so slowly, she unlaced her corset, easing it away from her body. Her full breasts glistened like ivory globes, the lamplight’s glow turning her jutting pink nipples to a dusty rose.

  Aaron groaned. He wanted to touch her, but he waited. Her slender fingers loosened the string on her drawers, and then, with slow tantalizing grace, she stepped out of them, throwing them aside on top of her other clothing. Unashamed, she stood before him in all her naked glory, like a goddess offering herself to a mortal man.

  Aaron removed his coat and vest, dropping them to the floor as he walked to Maggie, his big body trembling with desire.

  He touched her face, gently running his fingers from temple to jawline, detouring once to circle her lips. He took her face in both hands and covered her lips with his. The kiss began like a gentle rain, but soon turned into a maelstrom of raging passion. His tongue parted her lips, plunging inside, delving into her honeyed sweetness. She responded, her own tongue wildly searching his mouth, mating with his.

  An agonizing groan erupted from him when he prized his lips from hers and fell to his knees, circling her hips with his arms as he laid his head against her stomach and clutched her buttocks in his big hands. When his lips spread hot, wet kisses across her abdomen, Maggie’s knees buckled, and she cried out his name.

  His hands moved in seductive strokes up and down the backs of her thighs while his tongue drew a loving path from her waist to the thatch of red curls covering her femininity.

  “I want to taste you,” Aaron moaned as his fingers moved between her thighs, gently parting them to give him access to the secret part of her. His fingers delved gently into her waiting warmth.

  “Aaron!” she gasped.

  He placed his fingers to his lips, sampling her essence. “You taste so sweet.”

  He lowered her gently to the floor and parted her thighs as his mouth and tongue replaced his fingers and drank his fill of her precious sweetness.

  Maggie felt as if she were on fire, as if her body were ready to explode while Aaron continued loving her so intimately. She wanted him to stop, but she wanted him to go on forever. A spiral of pleasure began building deep within her, and with every stroke of his tongue she drew closer and closer to fulfillment. Then, her body burst into a flame that consumed her, red-hot sensations racing from her womanly center.

  “Oh Aaron, Aaron,” she cried, trembling with completion.

  He raised his head and smiled down at the angel lying so wantonly before him. He tugged off his shirt and threw it aside. He pulled her to him, lifting her into his arms and walking across the room to the sofa. He gently placed her on the soft, dark leather.

  Watching him as he stripped out of his trousers and drawers, she rested against the sofa’s warmth. In the shimmering glow of lamplight, he stood naked, his manhood boldly erect. The pale light had turned his hair to silvery-gold and his flesh to solid bronze. His eyes gleamed like polished jade.

  He lowered himself to her, his mouth taking hers in a kiss of total possession. He tasted faintly of cigar and strongly of good brandy, and nothing had ever tasted half so wonderful.

  His naked flesh touched hers, one big long leg curling against hers as the other nestled between her thighs. His muscular legs were hard and hairy as they rubbed her delicate skin.

  Maggie’s hands clutched him to her, massaging the bulging muscles in his big arms as he held himself above her, looking into her eyes. She put her mouth on his neck, her tongue gliding along the pulse beating wildly there, continuing the journey until her mouth encountered the springy fullness of his abundant chest hair. Spreading light, teasing kisses across his chest, she stopped at one tiny, male nipple hidden beneath the golden curls. Her tongue circled, stroked, and circled again.

  “Oh Maggie.”

  Her hands moved onto his chest, threading their way through the hair, savoring its silky feel against her fingertips. When one hand inched downward, fondling his stomach as her face nuzzled against his chest, Aaron stiffened, taking her hand and leading it below his waist.

  “Touch me,” he pleaded. “I want to feel your hand around me.”

  Obeying, Maggie enclosed his manhood within her hand. “Like this?”

  Covering her hand with his own, he squeezed, then taught her the movements to please him.

  Her touch drove him wild. He groaned and sighed and whispered outrageous love words into her ears. When he could bear no more, he pulled away from her, his own big hand lifting her breasts. He savored the sight of her perfection, his mouth hungry to suckle her beauty. Maggie jerked once, twice, when his mouth covered one begging nipple and his fingers toyed with the other.

  “I want to love you.” He spread her legs apart with his knee as he pushed his manhood against her feminine mound. “Feel how badly I need you.”

  “Make love to me, Aaron. Make this night one we’ll always remember.”

  With one earth-shattering lunge, he joined their bodies in sweet ecstasy. For only moments, he lay unmoving inside of her, simply enjoying the feel of perfect union. Gradually he moved, encouraging her body’s undulating responses. His mouth continued feasting at her breasts while her hands rubbed his chest, glorying in the sensations created by feminine flesh against manly hair.

  Harder and faster he plunged, his breath ragged with passion. Her hips moved up and down, reaching for the pinnacle of bliss.

  “Oh my God, woman, it’s never been so good.”

  “Love me. Love me.”

  In a blinding flash of completion, they reached fulfillment together, their bodies throbbing with a pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

  “I love you,” he cried, his body trembling with release.

  “I love you,” she sighed, satiation covering her like a downy, warm quilt.

  They lay, naked and replete, touching, kissing, and whispering the sweet nothings of lovers. Much later, Aaron eased away from her. She watched him go to the desk, retrieve a bottle of pale brandy, and pour a liberal amount into two large, tapering glasses.

  He returned, handling her one of the snifters. Maggie looked at the yellowish liquor, sniffing its distinct aroma. “What is it?”

  “Pale brandy. Try it. It was my father’s favorite.”

  Maggie raised the snifter to her lips and tasted sparingly. She was not accustomed to the taste of liquor, and she did not like it. “Phew . . .”

  He laughed, and then sipped from his glass. “It’s an acquired taste.”

  “It looks yellow,” Maggie said, gazing into the snifter.

  “That’s because it was stored in oak casks. It reminds me of your eyes. I’ll never drink it again without thinking of you.”

  Completely, unashamedly naked, they sat on the dark leather sofa in Martha Coleman’s house, and looked at each other, fresh longing awakening within them.

  “I want to love you again, but I know it must be nearly dawn. You need to return to your room.” He stroked her ch
eek with his fingertips.

  “I don’t want to leave you. Not now, not ever.”

  “Parting from you is like being damned to hell.”

  “I know.” She pulled his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss into his open palm.

  “Forgive me?”

  “I can’t. You’ll be ruining three lives if you marry Eunice.”

  “I . . . I’ll do what I must.”

  Maggie stood. Her hair, tumbling in soft, wild curls to her waist, fell across her breasts as she bent to retrieve her clothing. Moonlight and lamplight combined to illuminate her perfect, young body, covering it with a gauzy cream blush.

  “Then heaven help you, Aaron, because you’ve doomed us all to torment.”

  Chapter 12

  Maggie sat at the square wooden table, a large blue bowl in her arm and a long spoon in her hand. The hot August sun filled the spacious kitchen of the Coleman town house, making the already warm room sweltering. She could feel the rivulets of perspiration trickling down between her breasts as she steadily continued beating the cake batter. Sitting beside her, Daisy wiped the sweat from her face with the edge of the soiled gingham apron, and then continued shelling the pile of purple hull peas lying on the table.

  A slight breeze came through the open back door, but its humid warmth gave no relief. Heat from the nearby stove added discomfort to this prenoon summertime day.

  “I hope Mr. Micah appreciates you baking him a pound cake on a day this hot,” Daisy said, popping open another shell.

  “Well, it’s not every day a boy turns seventeen.”

  “He’s sure enough going to think he’s a man now.”

  “I wish Thayer hadn’t offered him that job on Aaron’s riverboat. That’s all he’s talked about for two weeks now.” Maggie was afraid her brother would accept the offer and spend the next few years seeking adventures on the river instead of going off and getting himself an education.

  “Well, if your plans for Mr. Micah don’t work out, there’s always Miss Jude,” Daisy laughed as she dropped a handful of pea pods into her lap. “Her spending time with Mrs. Mobley’s twins is bound to be good for her. Could be some of their highfalutin ways will rub off on her.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  “She’s mighty worked up about Mr. Thayer taking you all to the opera house tonight for Mr. Micah’s birthday. I ain’t never seen a child so love-sick over a grown man.”

  “I worry about it sometimes, but I figure she’ll grow out of it. It seems you’re the only one in the family who’s going to get the man she wants.”

  Daisy blushed but smiled shyly as she lowered her head, concentrating on her task. “He’s a fine man, Miss Maggie.”

  Maggie could hear Aaron’s voice saying, “That’s how I met Phineas. He saved my life one night in a New Orleans barroom. He’s a man I respect.”

  So much had happened in the four weeks since Thayer’s party. The dry, blazing hot month of July had faded into the first days of humid, overcast August, and she had seen nothing of Aaron. She had become convinced that the night they had shared at Silver Hill would be their last. No doubt, he was working hard at finishing the restoration at White Orchard and biding his time until he could ask Eunice to marry him. She was trying to put the pieces of her own life back together, but keeping her promise to Pa seemed less likely every day.

  The atmosphere in town had changed some. Since word had spread that Martha Coleman had wined and dined the Campbells at her private dinner party, a few ladies deemed it acceptable to speak to her now, and she had actually acquired two more customers.

  She did not like to think about the creature who had called on her a week ago inquiring about her services. It seemed that Miss Verda, a new girl at Loretta’s, was far more interested in getting a look at Thayer’s new lady friend than having any dresses made. Maggie had told that painted trollop a thing or two and shown her the door. The very idea that anyone would think that she, Margaret Mary Campbell, was Thayer’s latest mistress!

  Unfortunately, Jude had witnessed the scene and asked Maggie countless questions. It had taken her quite some time to convince the child that there was nothing going on between Thayer and her. Right now, she could still manage to handle Judith, but Micah was something else altogether.

  If Micah took the steamboat job, he would never finish school. She had long since given up her plans for him to join the ministry, but had continued hoping that he’d want to make something of himself.

  Lord only knew what kind of trouble he’d get in traveling the river. In no time, he’d be smoking and drinking and bedding whores. Maggie shuddered at the thought. She figured Pa would be disappointed that she hadn’t been able to steer the boy in the right direction. But how could she make endless years of schooling compare favorably to unknown adventures on the riverboat routes?

  “May I come in, Cousin Margaret?” a quiet voice called from the back porch.

  Startled, Maggie jumped, then turned around to see Wesley Peterson, hat in hand, standing outside the kitchen door. Daisy stopped shelling peas, her hands trembling as she clutched the pan in her lap.

  “I couldn’t get any answer at the front door, so I assumed you were around here at the back. I had the devil’s own time finding a path back here.” Wesley, his pudgy face red and sweaty, stepped inside the kitchen. Grunting, he said, “Mighty hot day we’re having.”

  Maggie set her spoon and bowl on the table and stood to face the uninvited guest. “What are you doing here, Wesley?”

  Daisy moved to stand, but dropped the pan of peas and an apron full of empty hulls onto the floor. She quickly fell to her knees, trying to retrieve the spillage. Her hands were shaking so badly that she stopped and clutched them together in an effort to calm herself.

  Noticing the other woman’s agitated state, Maggie eyed Wesley briefly, and then turned to help Daisy as she stood behind Maggie, her head bowed.

  “I’d like to speak to you alone, Cousin Margaret.”

  “No, Miss Maggie,” Daisy whispered, grabbing her mistress by the arm. “Don’t you see that man alone.”

  Puzzled by Daisy’s actions, Maggie turned to the woman. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing, Miss Maggie. I just think I should stay.” Daisy’s pale blue eyes glowed with some inner knowledge that frightened Maggie.

  “I’ll be all right. You go on and get some chores done upstairs. Cousin Wesley won’t be staying long.”

  Pleading silently with her mistress, Daisy hesitated a few minutes, but left the room quietly when she realized her warning was going unheeded.

  “You give that gal too much freedom,” Wesley said, walking toward Maggie.

  “Daisy is free. Her people have been free for over twenty years now.”

  “They need to be kept in their place and not allowed to get any big notions about bettering themselves.”

  “Wesley, why are you here?” Maggie could not imagine why her cousin-by-marriage had finally made his way to see her after six weeks of totally ignoring her existence.

  “My mission is twofold, dear Margaret.” He stood directly in front of her, a broad smile softening his already flaccid features. “May I sit down?”

  She did not want him here. She was not interested in anything he had to say, but common courtesy obliged her to invite him to join her. “By all means, please sit down.”

  He helped seat Maggie before seating himself and rushing into conversation. “I want you to know that I regret everything that has happened. If I had not been so shocked, I would have been able to have seen things more clearly from the beginning and perhaps have helped you sooner.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you saying that you want to help me? Don’t you think you’re a little late?”

  “Oh, my dear, I think not.” He reached across the table to take her hand. “I’m here to offer you a chance for forgiveness and a redeeming life.”

  Maggie snatched her hand away, glaring into his gentle gray eyes, seeing a
glimpse of the kind and caring man she had known and liked those first few weeks in her uncle’s home. “Please just go away and leave me alone.”

  “But you don’t understand. I’m not here to condemn you. You’re a young girl who has made a mistake and needs forgiveness. I have forgiven you, dear Margaret, as has God.” Wesley reached for her hand again.

  Maggie jumped away from him, pushing back her chair and quickly standing. “If that’s all you’ve come to say, then you’ve said it, and now you can go.”

  Looking up at the beautiful redhead, he sighed. “Oh, dear girl. I’m here to offer you the chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of this community. Once the good people see you working so devoutly at my side, they will know that you’ve turned from the evil ways of sin.”

  “Wesley!”

  “We will never speak of what has transpired between you and Aaron Stone or young Coleman. I feel inspired by God to give you the chance for salvation. I think God has ordained our marriage.”

  “Our marriage?”

  “Yes, dear Cousin Margaret, I’m asking you to be my wife.”

  At first, she was sure she had misunderstood, but when she realized that the good reverend had actually proposed marriage to her, she felt giddy and was unable to keep from laughing.

  “I find nothing amusing in this.”

  “Oh, Wesley, whatever would Aunt Tilly say?”

  “I’ve spoken to Mama,” he admitted. “She has not given us her blessings yet, but I’m sure she will. After all, you are friends with Mrs. Coleman now, and Mama was greatly impressed that the dear lady has publicly accepted you.”

  “I see. And what about us? We aren’t in love with each other.” Maggie wasn’t sure she even liked Wesley anymore.

  “Oh, but Margaret, I do love you. And, I thought . . . that is to say . . . considering the fact that you’ll not be coming to our marriage bed a virgin, your gratitude should eventually grow into love.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, or tell Wesley Peterson to go to hell. The very thought of making love with this self-righteous idiot made her physically ill. “I can’t accept your offer.”