The Texan

by Carolyn Davidson

  “I surely do enjoy a picnic.” Cleary picked up another sandwich and fit his mouth around the thick mound of sliced ham it contained. “Maybe we can talk Bertha into coming here a couple of days a week. I’m gonna miss her cooking.”

  “I’m a fair cook myself.” Augusta chose one of Honey’s cookies from the tin box the girl had sent along. And then she sent a wry glance in Cleary’s direction. “You sure you don’t want to just move in over there? It’d be right handy, having a cook and housekeeper on the premises.”

  “I’d rather have a wife, and a bit of privacy.” His eyes gleamed over the top of his sandwich as he bit into it, and he brushed negligently at a crumb on his mustache as he chewed. “We’ll probably both be spending time over there, you especially, but we can have one of the women come here and redd up the place for you every week if you like.”

  “Redding up isn’t going to cut it, Cleary. This house needs a top-to-bottom cleaning, and for that I’m going to bring over all the ladies for a day. This carpet is probably lovely underneath all the dust, but it’s pretty hard to tell for sure. And those draperies haven’t been shaken out in years.”

  “Well, those ladies of yours aren’t coming tonight, I’ll tell you that much,” he said firmly. “One way or another, we’re going to have a wedding night, Gussie.”

  She felt her heart race as she thought of what a wedding night might consist of, and she leaned to gather up the bits and pieces of their picnic. A stop at the icehouse had provided a fifteen-pound chunk, and the driver had slid it into the bottom of the box for her, making it ready to hold the leftovers from their wedding supper. She’d wash up the dishes quickly. And after that…

  She looked at him, noting the lines drawn around his mouth. “What about your wound?”

  “Don’t worry about my wound. It’s just a scratch, anyway.”

  She laughed aloud. “A scratch? You’re forgetting something, Cleary. I saw that scratch last night. I was the one who washed it and rounded up cobwebs and padded it up so it wouldn’t bleed all over the place.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. Not for a minute, Gussie. First time I’ve ever had my fanny exposed to a lady in quite that way.” He grinned at her and reached for her hand. “You didn’t even flinch, sweetheart. You just cleaned it up and did what you had to do. I didn’t know how you’d handle taking care of me, and I was sorta thrown for a loop when you just dug in and took over.”

  “I didn’t look at your fanny,” she said primly. “All I saw was that long, bloody gouge in your skin, and I knew I had to stop the blood flow. Either that or go find a doctor, and I wasn’t sure you’d let me do that.”

  “You’re right there.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and turned it to kiss her palm. “Your ladies won’t tell anyone, will they? That I was wounded, I mean?”

  She thought his action was meant to mask the importance of his question. But there was no sense in making him worry over exposure, even if he didn’t have the good sense to come right out and ask her to cover up the events of the evening.

  “My ladies have been keeping secrets for years, Cleary. They aren’t about to go running all over town, telling folks that you were dumb enough to get shot in your backside.”

  “It’s not in my backside,” he said, a sulky look invading his features. “I’d like to have a little dignity left to me. You’re supposed to love, honor and obey. Remember?”

  “I think I’ve done my share of obeying for today,” she said primly. If he was going to pout, there wasn’t any reason for her to put up with it, she decided. And Cleary had better find out right off the bat that she would not be dictated to.

  “You? Obey? When did this happen?” He truly seemed puzzled, and yet, Cleary was a scamp. Perhaps his eyes were a bit too wide, his amazement a bit contrived.

  “You sent a wagon for me, with orders to pack my belongings and get everything loaded up for a trip across town.”

  “Get everything loaded up?” She thought his mouth took on a grim line, his eyes a gleam of leashed anger. “Tell me you didn’t lift your things onto that wagon. Or carry one single box or bag down those stairs and out that front door. Except for that sleek little body, I don’t want to know that you were responsible for toting one thing from that house to this one.”

  Her sigh was deep, and she reached to touch his face with her fingertips. “So quickly you rise to my defense. Of course, I didn’t carry my things. That giant ox of a man from the livery stable took care of everything.” She ran through his words, those terse sentences he’d leveled in her direction.

  “I didn’t know you were so prickly, Jonathan Cleary.” Her hand flattened against his cheek, then curved to enclose his jaw, her fingers ruffling the hair above his ear. “Do you always leap to the aid of the ladies in your care?”

  “I’ve never been married before, Gussie. I’ve never cared about another woman the way I do you. You durn betcha I’ll be prickly where you’re concerned. Like it or not, I intend to take care of you for the rest of your life.”

  “Well, that’s quite a statement,” she said quietly. He’ll take care of you, but notice he didn’t say he loves you, she thought. Her heart clenched within her breast as she allowed her hand to drop to her lap, and she searched for a fresh note to instill, to somehow bring back the easy flow of their communication.

  As if he read her thoughts, he tilted his head and frowned. “Who was the giant ox of a man you mentioned? Sam Ferguson?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe so. Just someone from the livery stable,” she said. “You should have seen the way he looked at Pearl, and the gleam in her eye when she watched him climb the staircase. I had to wonder if he knew her. You know, if he’d…met her before.”

  “Well, she knows not to have company while she’s in your house, doesn’t she?”

  Augusta nodded. “She won’t allow him to visit. But that’s not saying she wouldn’t be interested should he be on the lookout for a bride. She told me she’s not interested in a man in her life, but her eyes were as shiny as a new penny when she got a gander at him.”

  “Look at me, Gussie.”

  “What?” Her mind on Pearl, she turned her head and glanced at Cleary, and then took stock of his expression. “I’m looking,” she said after a moment.

  “Blue eyes don’t shine like new pennies,” he said softly. “But once in a while, yours look kinda like a summer sky or a bluebird’s wing.”

  “Do they?” She felt ill at ease, his close scrutiny making her fidget, as though he saw deep inside her and knew the lack of knowledge and total inexperience his bride possessed. “I always thought they were just plain blue.” She placed the basket at the foot of the mattress and made a great show of folding the napkins they’d used.

  Cleary bent to her and whispered, “They’re beautiful, sweetheart. Like the rest of you.” He leaned on his elbow then, his uninjured hip against the mattress where they’d had their impromptu picnic. “You know what? I’d like to see your hair hanging down your back. I want to run my fingers through your waves and wrap the whole length of it around my hand. And then I want to spread it over that pillow.”

  “My hair?” She swallowed, a hard lump seeming to form in her throat. “It’s just ordinary yellow hair, Cleary.”

  “There’s nothing ordinary about you, sweet.” His gaze touched her, skimming her face and throat, then resting for a moment on her breasts. “Say my name, Gussie. You told me you would.”

  “Jonathan? You want me to call you Jonathan?”

  “That’ll work, I suppose. But you called me Jon before. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.” Surely this wasn’t her voice, this thin thread of sound that fought to escape past the swelling in her chest that filled her lungs, threatening to take her breath.

  “Are you frightened of me, sweetheart?” He lifted his free hand and tugged her to join him, drawing her down to kneel by his side on the mattress.

  “No, of course not.” There was a demand in his eyes now that acceler
ated her breathing and sent a shimmering warmth to the depths of her belly. “I’m not afraid. I’m not sure what you expect of me, but I know you won’t hurt me, Jonathan.”

  “Ah, but I likely will, I fear,” he said, denying her faith in him.

  “I knew I should have asked Pearl about this,” she muttered as she tried to decipher his meaning.

  He grinned, his eyes glittering, his teeth gleaming, and she was reminded of a wolf eyeing his prey. “I’ll answer all your questions.” His voice had become rusty, his tone rasping as he soothed her uncertainty.

  Her eyes opened wide, her hands twisting at her waist. “Maybe we should wait until you feel a lot better. I wouldn’t want you to start bleeding again.”

  He looked around the parlor, his gaze seeking out the corners where cobwebs still hung in several places, from draperies to the ceiling, from ceiling to wall. “I’d say we have enough in here to cover that problem, should it arise. Probably enough to supply a whole hospital,” he told her, grinning as if he found an unbelievable depth of amusement in her words.

  “I don’t plan on harming myself, Gussie. In fact, I’ll bet we can do this without any major damage being done to either of us.”

  He sobered then and tugged her down to press his lips against hers, a brief, tender caress. And then he looked directly into her eyes. “You have any questions you need to have answered before I take your clothes off, sweetheart?”

  Chapter Ten

  “Are we going to do this right now?” Augusta waved a hand distractedly toward the window, as if to call Cleary’s attention to the fact that the sun was only now setting, casting a pink glow across the western horizon. It would be some time before full darkness descended, and to say that his bride was apprehensive was an understatement.

  “I thought we might,” he said, his fingers removing white pearly buttons from their moorings in a casual manner. He’d hoped to get a glimpse of Augusta’s charms, and unless he missed his guess, she wasn’t about to let him light a lamp, even if he felt so inclined. The truth was, the thought of rising from the mattress gave him a definite pain in his backside. Getting her to kneel beside him had been a stroke of good fortune.

  How he was going to conduct this wedding night was still a puzzle, but one he was certain he was capable of solving, given a bit of cooperation from his bride. “Your heart is goin’ a mile a minute, Gussie,” he whispered, bending to brush his mouth against the pale triangle of flesh he’d managed to expose at her throat. Three buttons undone, and many more to go.

  “We’ve already done this, you know, undoing my dress, once before,” she reminded him. “I thought you might just skip this part. I don’t mind having my clothes on. Really.”

  “Naw, I don’t think so. I kinda like peeling off your layers and getting down to brass tacks.” He watched as she attempted a smile. Her mouth trembled, and he touched it with a fingertip, pressing the plush surface until his finger was taken prisoner between her lips.

  She blinked in surprise and he rubbed the inside of her bottom lip, watching as she shivered. And then he drew her head toward him with his other hand, fingers tangling in her hair as he guided her closer. His mouth replaced that wandering finger and he suckled gently there, his teeth touching with care, as his hand moved to curve beneath her breast.

  Through the layers of fabric, he felt the definite rounding of firm flesh and heard her indrawn gasp as she responded to his touch. “Cleary? I don’t think I can breathe.”

  “You’re doin’ just fine, sweetheart. I can feel your chest moving right here under my hand.” And as if to prove his claim he formed her breast more firmly within his grasp. His grip slid upward to encompass the firm crest and it pressed against his palm with satisfying speed, as though that tiny bit of rosy flesh welcomed the movement of his body against hers, even through the restriction of fabric.

  It wasn’t enough, he thought, reining in the desire that blossomed in the wake of her innocent movement. Though he’d had a long dry spell, over a year in fact, without a woman to ease his needs, he’d planned to restrain himself, bring her slowly and gradually to a state of yearning. And when he knew she was ready, was comfortable with his touch, he would take pleasure in easing her introduction to the act of loving.

  There would be pain—of that he was certain—for his bride was innocent, a virgin. Though she might be versed in the plight of the women she helped, she knew little of the hard, cold facts of their lives, only that they were used for the pleasure of men. And even that knowledge was limited, since he was certain the ladies had sheltered her from much of the details of their lives.

  Gussie was somehow driven to offer a haven to the unfortunates she’d gathered to her bosom. Whatever her reasons, she kept them to herself, where they might remain a mystery for a time. He’d decided from the beginning not to pressure her, but instead use every skill he possessed to gain her confidence. And in doing that, perhaps her love. Because looking into his future, without the vision of Gussie by his side, was not to be countenanced.

  But for now, he would be somewhat satisfied to get her out of the layers of clothing she wore. And that might prove to be difficult, given the time of day and the degree of her modesty. Slowly he released his hold on her and thought he heard a sigh escape her lips, as though she rued his retreat. It gave him encouragement, as she peered into his eyes, looking for all the world like a woman in a state of anticipation, awaiting his next move.

  Whatever it might be, whatever he did now, would tinge their relationship forever, and he was at sea, unversed in the seduction of a virgin. It was like playing the piano by ear, he decided. You could only plunge ahead, listening for the chords that blended into a pleasing harmony. But none of that could be accomplished until he had her as close to naked as he could arrange. He’d been this far before, that day in the parlor, and thus far she was not protesting his actions. That thought was encouraging.

  His fingers slowly completed the process of undoing her dress, and she allowed it without protest, her gaze falling from his face to watch his agile hands as they stripped the garment from her shoulders and lowered it to her waist. Her chemise undone, he opened it wide to feast his eyes on the rounding of her bosom, the pale skin and peaked crests, and found she was even lovelier than he’d thought on his first swift appraisal.

  The chemise slid easily down her arms, and his fingers returned quickly to her waist. There he found the strings that kept her petticoat and drawers in place, and with agile movements he untied them. “You’ll have to stand up, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I want to get these things off you.”

  And wonder of wonders, she did as he asked, perhaps, he thought, influenced by the vows she’d spoken this morning. Obey. His favorite word, he decided cheerfully, especially if that memory made his Gussie this docile and willing to oblige. As she rose, the clothing slid to the floor and he heard her indrawn gasp.

  Then he watched as her hands dropped to shield the apex of her thighs. Her slender fingers were tanned, framed by the golden triangle she guarded, where skin that had never known the kiss of sunlight appeared fragile to his eager eyes.

  He looked up into eyes that had darkened and held a fearful element. Yet, his lips curved involuntarily, and his voice was a husky groan. “I think you’re the loveliest creature I’ve ever seen.” Reaching up, he clasped her hands, his own trembling as he drew them aside, exposing the golden thatch she’d tried to hide.

  “That’s just a part of your body, Gussie. And I’m prepared to love all of you, from head to toe. There won’t be any secrets between us.” His fingers brushed across the soft curls and he yearned to delve beneath their cover to where damp flesh awaited discovery. But her hands turned to cover his and she whispered his name.

  “Jonathan.” Just that, his name, as though she would halt his advance.

  “Do I frighten you?”

  “Shouldn’t I be embarrassed?” she asked softly. “I don’t want you to think I’m brazen, just standing here in front of you.
”

  A pink tinge colored her face, but an air of expectancy shrouded her and he could not help but chuckle as he shook his head. “No, I know better than that. The thing is, there’s just you and me here, sweetheart. We can do whatever we like. That’s what marriage is all about.”

  “How would you know?” she asked as she slid to her knees, and he thought it a perfectly logical query.

  “Something my father told me once. And then when I stayed in Wyoming a while back I watched a man and woman who discovered the depths of their love while I was working there. I could sense the air of belonging they shared, and I knew it was what I wanted one day, when I found the right woman.”

  “And were you searching for a woman when you met me?”

  He reached to enclose her waist with long fingers, encouraged by her acceptance of his touch on her bare skin. “No, not really. And to tell you the truth, you weren’t what I’d expected to want as a wife.”

  He thought a look of disappointment swept her expressive features, and he strove to vanquish it, his words soft and coaxing. “But all I had to do was look at you, Gussie, and I knew. That golden hair and your blue eyes made me lose my breath. I offered you lemonade when you came to call because I didn’t want you to leave.” His laugh was quiet and rueful. “I’d have done most anything to make you stay on my porch that day.”

  “You teased me,” she reminded him. “Unmercifully.”

  “I wanted you to remember me, and welcome me when I came by to see you.”

  “Really? And here I thought maybe you were laughing at me because I was so mortified…you know, about raising money for my ladies.”

  “No, never that. I knew then that I wanted you, Gussie. It just took a while to realize that I wanted you on a permanent basis. In the meantime, I had to make up reasons to hang around until you got used to me and felt comfortable in my company.”

  “I didn’t feel very comfortable when I knew you meant to kiss me, that day you put up the shutters.” She bent to touch his hair with her fingertips and her breasts brushed his shirt. “It frightened me, Jonathan. Not because of you, but because I was fearful of the way I felt about you.”