He halted at the far end and faced her. “Mrs. Borland, I wanted to speak to you in private.”
“Certainly, Colonel.” She prayed he was going to tell her what he and Lee had talked about last night.
“First,” the colonel began, “I want to express my sympathy for your husband’s death.”
Jenna looked past him onto the shadowy parade ground where she and Lee had walked yesterday evening. She rarely thought of Mathias these days. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“I understand it was Major Carver who was responsible.”
Jenna said nothing.
“And,” he continued, “for that reason I want to tell you something about Lee Carver.”
Instantly her instincts went on alert. “What about him?”
“My dear, allow me to be blunt. I’ve known Major Carver ever since the War Between the States ended and he came west to serve with the Federal Army. We campaigned together out of Fort Kearney, fighting the Sioux and the Cheyenne.”
Jenna nodded. “Mr. Carver said once that he joined the army after the War because there was nothing left for him in Virginia.”
“Yes, I know. When Lee served under me he was as close to a broken man as I’ve ever seen. But as the months went by, I observed some things. I’d like to tell you about them, if I may.”
Jenna looked up at the older man and tried to smile. “Yes, go on. I am listening.”
“First, Mrs. Borland, the major is no philanderer. I say that because far too many soldiers are, especially when separated from their wives and sweethearts.”
Jenna felt her face flush.
“Second,” the colonel continued, “Lee Carver is a good man. The best. He is also somewhat... How should I put it? Somewhat vulnerable.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Colonel Owens stood looking down at her, then took her hand in his. “Because, Mrs. Borland, I would not want to see this man hurt.”
Without another word he walked Jenna back inside and conducted her to the sidelines where Emma sat with Sophia Zaberskie. She listened idly to the conversation between the two women, her gaze darting around the room as they chatted, but in her mind she kept hearing Colonel Owens’s words. I would not want to see this man hurt.
And then Sophia said something that caught her attention.
“I...well, I t’ink I be, you know, in the family way.” Sophia’s smooth, round face was pink with happiness, and she kept surreptitiously inspecting Jenna’s expanding waistline.
“Why, Sophia, that is wonderful news!” Emma exclaimed. “Have you told Ted?”
The younger woman worked her handkerchief over and under her long fingers. “Oh, no. I wait until I am sure. He suffered much when...”
Jenna reached over and squeezed the young woman’s hand. If Sophia Zaberskie could reach once more for happiness after losing two sons, she herself could certainly do her best after losing Mathias. She blinked back tears and gazed out at the dance floor.
The officers’ wives looked like colorful butterflies in their gowns of emerald and rose and blue silk. A number of them were obviously expecting; she wondered if they were as frightened as she was at the prospect of giving birth in this harsh, untamed land.
Lee was dancing with one of them, an officer’s daughter, she guessed. The girl was no more than seventeen, and she was gazing up at him with adoring blue eyes. She had very yellow hair, not French-braided as hers was, but curled into tight corkscrews that bounced when she tossed her head. Which, Jenna noted, she did often. The girl was slim and quite pretty.
Deliberately Jenna looked away and swallowed hard. When she risked another look, Lee was circling around and around with an ecstatic Ruthie clasped in his arms. Next he danced a reel with Mary Grace as his partner.
During the next set, Jenna watched Jimmy Gumpert determinedly guide Tess back and forth across the floor in a halting two-step, apparently unaware that the music was in waltz-time. And then a tall, gangly young soldier who looked no more than sixteen cut in and spirited Tess away in a flutter of blue gingham ruffles.
“Well, now, isn’t that nice,” Emma remarked with a smile.
“Oh, dear,” Jenna whispered. “Tess will be puffed up for days.”
“Jimmy Gumpert certainly won’t be,” Emma said with a laugh.
Jenna started to reply, but a man’s warm hand took hers and pulled her to her feet. The next thing she knew Lee Carver had folded her into his arms.
Chapter Nineteen
Without a word Lee drew her into a waltz. Silence stretched between them, but she didn’t mind. Instead, she found herself listening to what his body said as it moved with hers. It said, among other things, that he valued her. He held her so carefully, so gently, it was as if she were made of glass.
When the dance ended, he did not release her. A slow two-step followed, then another waltz, and now he held her close, so close her breasts brushed the front of his white linen shirt, and her long calico skirt kept getting tangled between his legs. His warm hand spread across her back, pressing her into his lean, hard frame.
She felt a bit drunk being so near him, moving with him as if they were one being. She had never danced with a man like this. Randall had always been busy at night, when the Roseville socials were held. She saw him only in the daytime, when she brought documents her mother had signed to his law office.
Lee’s chin grazed her temple. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of pine soap and tobacco smoke and the faint salty tang of perspiration. His breathing was uneven, as if he had been running.
Her own breathing grew ragged. This should not be happening. Never again did she wish to be the object of a man’s desire.
Over his shoulder she glimpsed Mick McKernan circling at the edge of the floor, obviously waiting for a chance to cut in. She stiffened, and Lee’s arm tightened about her waist. Adroitly he kept turning them so his back was always facing Mick, shielding her, and finally the Irishman stomped off with a scowl on his flushed face.
Lee began gently circling his hand on her back, caressing each bone of her spine under her shirtwaist. Then he slid his hand lower, to her waist, and then lower still to a place that sent a shiver through her frame. It was scandalous where he was touching her! But everyone else was dancing, and no one seemed to notice.
But she noticed! And she didn’t want to notice. Physical attraction between herself and Mathias had not been part of their bargain, but Lee was different. Being close to him was different. She felt warm and safe and cared about. This was nothing like Randall’s hurried protestations of devotion and his hot, breathy kisses against the closed door of his office.
With Lee’s body so close to hers she felt something she’d never felt before, a kind of yearning. She didn’t want to like it. But she did.
You like Lee. You like being near him. She didn’t have to trust him to like being near him, did she?
A sweet, hot ache began below her belly. He folded his fingers around her hand and after a moment drew it in and pressed it against his chest. She could feel his heart thumping under her palm.
She forgot all about Mick McKernan, and the girls, and Colonel Owens. She even forgot about Randall Morgan. She was aware only of Lee, how he made her feel when she was close to him. The throbbing, insistent ache building inside her was something she had never experienced. It sent a jolt of hunger though her that was so heady and demanding it frightened her.
They danced without speaking until midnight, which was just as well because Jenna could think of nothing to say. She couldn’t even think clearly. She imagined she was floating high above the dancers on a soft blue cloud, and she seemed unable to stop smiling.
At midnight, the junior officers laid a late supper along a long trestle table, and the musicians stopped playing. Lee released her, loaded up a single plate a
nd stuck two forks into his shirt pocket. Then he walked her out onto the veranda where they ate cold sliced ham and potato salad and shared a thick slice of blackberry pie.
An odd thought struck her. It wasn’t intimacy she had with Lee. It was not really friendship, either. It was something between, something rich and unspoken. Something she valued.
Still they said nothing to each other. It was almost as if words were not needed, but that idea was so preposterous she choked on a bite of pie. Words were always needed between human beings. She and Lee were different people, from such different backgrounds. They had been brought together only by chance and forced into proximity. And yet she felt no need to make even polite conversation with this man, and that made her wonder. There should be all sorts of things they needed to communicate to each other.
A slow wave of heat surged from her toes to her hairline, prompting a deeper question. Why did she feel no threat from Lee, the way she had with Randall? Randall had always wanted more than she was comfortable giving, but Lee...
Lee asked nothing. He simply let her know what he was feeling, and waited. It was all such a puzzle! She did know one thing, however; the war between her thoughts and her feelings was tearing her in two.
The evening drew to a close with a slow rendition of “Red River Valley.” Lee pulled her close, holding her as if she were made of flower petals. She didn’t want this to end. She wanted to keep her eyes closed and keep moving in Lee’s arms.
But of course it had to end. She was acting like a silly, addlepated girl, and she would never be that young again. She was wiser now. She knew better than to let herself become involved with a man. It never turned out the way you thought it would.
The musicians began to pack up their instruments, and the crowd thinned and then began to disperse. Lee kept her hand in his and they started back to the wagons. The girls trailed behind them, their chatter and laughter filling the silence that stretched between them. How very odd this was. From the moment he had drawn her into his arms, they had not spoken a single word to each other.
Ruthie skipped beside Jenna, clinging to her other hand.
“That gray man with the beard danced me, too,” she chirped. “Did you see me, Jenna? Did you?”
“I saw you dancing with Mr. Carver, Ruthie.”
“No, it was that old man, the cern’l,” Ruthie insisted.
“You mean Colonel Owens?”
Ruthie giggled. “Am I all growed up yet? I wanna braid my hair like Tess.”
They reached the camp, and the girls immediately climbed through the bonnet and into the wagon. Lee went to check the oxen and Devil, picketed some yards away. When he returned, he gave a final look around camp, shucked his boots, unbuckled his belt and stripped off his shirt. Then he crawled onto his pallet and waited for Jenna, who was inside the wagon, reading to the girls.
She was taking so long Lee gritted his teeth. They had not spoken to each other all evening, had not needed to. But there were things that had to be said out loud, and it was by God going to be tonight.
Finally she appeared, scooted under the wagon to lay out her two quilts and removed her shoes. She began to unbraid her hair, finger-combing the tangle of dark waves, and Lee breathed in the spicy-sweet scent. Roses, maybe. Or lilacs. He propped himself on one elbow and closed his eyes.
“Jenna.”
Her motions stilled. “Lee, this is the first time all evening you have said a single word to me.”
He kept his eyes shut. “Not true. I’ve been talking to you all evening.” He reached one hand up to her neck and pulled her face down to his until he felt her warm breath against his lips. “Couldn’t you tell? I’ve been wanting to do this for hours.”
He raised his head slightly and touched his mouth to hers, gently at first, then more deeply. With his other hand he cupped the back of her head and ran his tongue over her lips, urging her mouth open. She tasted of mint.
He kissed her until his groin ached. Finally he broke free and buried his face in her hair. “Do you have feelings for Randall Morgan?” he whispered.
“No, I don’t. Why are you asking me about him?”
He opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. “Because I don’t want him to touch you. I meant what I said before—if he comes after you again, I’m going to kill him.”
Her head moved up and down in a nod. “Yes,” she murmured. “I understand.”
He wove his fingers into her hair, pulled her close and kissed her closed eyelids. Then he brought his fingers to the top button of her dress and slipped it free. He heard her breath hitch in, but she didn’t move away. He undid three more buttons, and she laid her hand on his.
“Where is your rifle?” she asked. “You usually sleep with your rifle next to you.”
“I’m not sleeping with my rifle tonight. I’m sleeping with you.”
To his relief she said nothing.
“Jenna,” he whispered. “Take off your dress.”
He saw her hesitate, biting her lower lip and looking at him with widened green eyes. Then she slipped the buttons free all the way down to her waist. Her fingers trembled. She sat up and slid the calico off her shoulders to free her arms. Lee reached around her to undo the skirt fastening, and she tugged the garment off.
“Now the rest.” He untied the ribbon at the neck of her camisole and bent to press his lips against her bare skin.
“Lee, you cannot want this. Me. I am pregnant...big and swollen and...pregnant.”
“I know.” He pushed her shoulder strap over her shoulder. “Take this off.”
“Lee...”
He smiled. “You want me to do it?”
Jenna stared at him in disbelief, not at his suggestion, but at her unspoken response. Yes, she did want him to do it. With a little sigh she lifted her arms, and he pulled the soft muslin over her head. The warm night air washed over her, and her breasts tingled.
He smoothed his hand over her skin, slowly brushing her nipples with his thumbs, moved away, then brushed them again. Her flesh swelled and began to throb, and she blinked in surprise.
“Nothing has ever felt like this before,” she whispered.
He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “How do you mean? I thought—”
“Randall never touched me like this,” she said quietly. “He just, well, lifted up my skirt and...”
Lee made a noise low in his throat. “Damn fool.”
“I thought I wanted him,” she said in a low voice. “Now I know that I didn’t, not really. Now I know what wanting a man really feels like.”
His hand stopped moving. “Yeah?”
“I want you, Lee. You.”
Chapter Twenty
Hell, Lee thought, he was as scared as she was. She didn’t know what to do, and all at once he felt humbled. It made him wonder about himself, trying to pretend this didn’t matter. He chuckled under his breath.
“Why are you laughing?” she whispered. “I know how I look. My belly is all swollen and...” She dropped her face into her hands.
God, she was crying! “Jenna. Jenna.” He pried her fingers away from her face. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.” She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her nose like a child. The gesture made his chest feel tight.
He sat up and pulled her close. “It doesn’t matter,” he said again. “You think a man thinks of a woman as just a pretty object? That he loses interest when she’s carrying a child?”
“Well, doesn’t he?”
“Not this man. Jenna, you are the most unusual, spirited, beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Don’t you know this about yourself?”
“N-no. Mama always said I was too thin and I had freckles, and Randall—”
“Forget Randall. I don’t want to h
ear his name again.” It came out harsher than he’d intended and she stared at him, her eyes shiny and green as spring grass. Quickly he shed his jeans and reached for her.
“I mean,” he amended, “I don’t want anyone else in this bed but you and me.”
She nodded, but her eyes were still puzzled, and then it hit him. That bastard had taken advantage of her. No preliminaries. Probably no real feeling for her other than lust, since he was already married. He’d probably seduced her, tossed up her skirt like she said, and...
Oh, hell. From the way she kept looking down at her hands instead of his naked body, it was clear she’d never done this the way it should be done.
He was pretty sure she wanted him, but... “Jenna, look at me.”
She raised her head to meet his gaze, and her tangled dark hair brushed her bare shoulders. He lifted one strand and brought it to his nose. It smelled like roses. He let it drop and picked up her hand.
“I haven’t been with a woman since the War,” he said quietly. “Haven’t wanted one, until now. But I want you, Jenna.”
He lifted her hand to his bare chest. “And now we’re lying next to each other, and I want to touch you. Not only that...” He moved her hand. “I want you to touch me.”
Hesitantly she spread her fingers across his skin, and he sucked in his breath. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Like that.”
He smoothed his hand over her belly, circled around her navel, then moved to cup her breast. Her skin was like warm cream. He leaned in to swirl his tongue over her nipple and heard her stop breathing.
But she didn’t move her hand away from his chest. Instead, she gently drew one finger down his midriff and back up, did it again, and again. Then she looked up at him and smiled.
His heart missed about four beats. He moved to her other breast, covered it with his mouth, and curled his tongue across the swelling nub.
Baby on the Oregon Trail Page 14
