Amy's Choice (A More Perfect Union Series Book 2)

by Betty Bolte

  "What do you mean?" Amy stared at him, fear surging.

  "If they return, I'll hand out my own form of punishment," he said evenly.

  "Oh, Ben, I only want the nightmare to end, not seek vengeance on anyone." She crossed her arms, hugging herself to abate the tremors her imagination evoked in her.

  Ben reached out and snared her hand. "I'm sorry I've upset you, sweetheart. Let's change the subject, shall we?"

  The warmth of his hand calmed her. "I don't have anything to say."

  "We do not need to speak, if that's your desire." He selected another stick protruding from the fire and methodically made geometric patterns in the dirt at his feet.

  Silence fell in the cave, weighing her down. The jumble of images—of Jethro's rifle-toting brutality, Peter's slobbering kiss plundering her mouth, the limp body after she killed Jethro, all overlaid by the waiting punishment Ben envisioned—caused an inner tumult unlike any she'd ever experienced. She couldn't stand the silence. Must turn her thoughts to lighter topics before she lost her mind.

  "What do you think of the essays Frank published?" she finally blurted out. "Do you agree with them?"

  "I must admit I don't read the essays in the paper, just the news and the ads from time to time." Ben slid off the stone to lean against it and stretched his legs out in front of him. "Tell me about them if you'd like."

  Her eyes drank in the long, lean muscles of his legs clad in the tight-fitting breeches. She swallowed, capturing and calming her thoughts. "They all seem to deal with demanding equal education for girls and boys, as well as other topics of a like nature. All about equality between men and women. You haven't read any of them?" Amy sat primly, her hands clasped and resting on her knees. Her back ached, rigid and sore, but she couldn't relax it, the muscles too tight and her nerves too much on edge. "It's the oddest thing, really. Nobody knows who is writing them."

  "Are they so poorly written the author won't reveal himself, then?" Ben looked up at her, his eyes soft yet serious.

  "No, they are well-done." Amy gazed into the depths of his eyes. Mirrored pools of emotion, of desire, of heartfelt yearning for another. She remembered that look, and a shiver of anticipation raced through her. My, how could she have forgotten the molten longing in her core when he regarded her with such need in his eyes?

  "It seems a shame to hide the author then." Ben crossed his legs as he gazed at her.

  Earlier that afternoon she'd been so overjoyed to see him she had grabbed his thigh, the muscle solid as marble beneath her hands. She tore her gaze from his legs for the second time, her cheeks warming under his knowing gaze. "I... I had rather hoped Frank might have shared with you who the mystery author might be."

  "No, sorry, he didn't even mention it." Ben paused, his face scrunching in thought. "You know, there was something the other day that was a touch off. But surely it's nothing, after all. He would have told me if it were important." He shook his head, his ebony hair catching the light of the fire in shimmery waves.

  "What do you mean?" Amy stretched her hands out in front of her, trying to relieve the strain on her back without drawing attention to her aching muscles.

  "At McCrady's, Emily spilled her cider, and in the subsequent chaos, I saw Frank palm a paper from her. It's probably nothing, a love note or some such rot, given how smitten they are with each other."

  Amy stared at him. "Emily is not always the most graceful, that's for certain. But she's not mentioned anything about sharing notes with Frank. I wonder..." Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The many mornings when Emily had complained of not sleeping well the night before. The frequent visits to Frank at the printing office, under the apparent guise of visiting her new betrothed. Her support for the outrageous claims and demands in the paper. All as a ruse for hiding her writing of the controversial missives.

  "I didn't mean to imply that Emily wrote those essays." Ben gazed steadily at her. "I don't know what I saw, really, but I didn't have a chance to ask Frank about it, what with all the commotion going on about the British troops pulling out of Charles Town ere long."

  "Saints be praised, we'll finally get our town back." Amy smiled with heartfelt joy for the first time that day. "It's about time our city was free from their pestilence."

  Ben chuckled. "Many agree with you. Myself included." He stirred the fire, poking a log back into the center, eliciting a flare in the orange and red flames. "I need to collect more wood, if you'll excuse me a moment." With that he rose from where he had been reclining against the log and strode out of the cave.

  She nodded, distracted by the height and breadth of the virile man before her. Her hand fluttered to her neck, finding the thin gold chain with the gem tucked between her breasts. When he had passed by her, she caught a whiff of mint and manly odor combined, and she inhaled deeply to preserve his presence with her even as he vanished into the night beyond the cave.

  In his absence Amy felt cold, despite the fire, and alone, despite Samantha lightly snoring in the near distance. Amy had made herself be strong while Ben did his duty for his country and his town. She had made herself be outgoing and a vibrant, engaging hostess to deflect the pain caused by his absence. She had made herself be capable of fending for herself because she did not want to be dependent on any man. Then he'd come back into her life, upsetting her balance and opening her heart, as painful as unlocking memories of their past relationship. And what did she have now? The ache hurt when he left instead of when he stayed. She sighed. She needed him as much as an ocean needs a beach or the night sky needs the stars and moon.

  He sauntered back to the fire, carrying several sizable logs he placed on the burning pile. The way his muscles moved beneath his shirt as he arranged the logs and stirred the embers to quickly ignite the additional fuel entranced her. Suddenly those gorgeous blue eyes turned to her.

  "Did you want something?" His crooked grin teased his lips.

  Very kissable lips.

  "Um, no." Her words squeaked from her mouth. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

  Ben turned back to the fire, gave it another stir for good measure, then laid down the stick. He rose and walked to where she sat, and lowered his larger frame down to sit beside her. She scooted over to allow more room, and then froze when his hand took hers. She gazed up at him then and saw the serious intent reflected in his eyes.

  "God help me, Amy, I may be rushing things, but I truly want to kiss you." His forefinger traced the outline of her lips, first her top lip, from corner to central dip, across to the other corner, then down and around her lower lip. "I want to remind you of how much we used to mean to each other. How much we still mean to each other."

  Was he able to know her thoughts, as well? She saw his love shining like a candle in the window, a beacon home. Amy gave the briefest of nods, her acquiescence to his request.

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, a gentle pressure that shot sparks through her veins. She reached up to grasp his rock-solid arms, reveling in the gentle strength of this man who loved her and wanted to marry her. But did she want to marry him? Did she love him enough to submit to his will and his rules for the rest of her life?

  On that thought, she stiffened and pulled away. Searching his eyes, she moistened her lips, unsure if she was savoring or erasing his kiss. "Don't."

  His eyes became deep pools of desire and confusion. "Why not? You like my kisses, do you not?"

  She nodded, then stopped herself. "It's not about whether I like it. There's more to it than that." Her wants and her needs did not align nearly as well as the stars. Peter's earlier affront left her desiring nothing more than a hot bath and something to wash his taste from her mouth. She glanced over her shoulder to the sleeping figure of Samantha. "On top of my other reasons, my friend sleeps only a few yards away. I have my reputation to consider."

  Ben gained his feet, clasping her hands and drawing her up with him. "Is it only the location and the company? Or is
there something more you're not telling me? I'll fix it, whatever troubles you. You only need tell me."

  She hesitated, but the honest question in his eyes made it hard to resist the impulse to describe the events that had occurred in this very cave. "I was attacked in here by one of the renegades." She touched her swollen cheek, her eyes steady on his, watching for signs of his loathing or disappointment. "He gave me this after I bit him when he kissed me."

  Ben stiffened, drawing a sharp breath. "I'll kill him myself if I ever catch sight of the bastard. If you'll pardon my language."

  "If I'd a gun at the time, I'd have saved you the trouble." She glanced away then and sighed as she relived the attack and punishment she'd received for her defiance. "They wouldn't let me talk, so my 'fictions' as you call them were of no use. I realized you're right. Stories have their place, but as a mature woman I should give them up for a more productive use of my time and talents. Like Emily is doing. Do you suppose I can write morality and comportment essays?" She raised questioning eyes to him.

  "You can do whatever pleases you." He kissed her lips, a brief, light touch, holding her hands against his chest. "But, sweetheart, I don't think you should write essays. Your stories are part of what defines you, and I've been a definite troll for not seeing how much you help others with your tales, either through entertainment at family dinners or by smuggling goods through the enemy lines to help our poor soldiers." He kissed her again. "Don't give up your stories, not for me or anyone."

  "Thank you, Ben." She stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him. "I believe there's hope for you yet."

  He dipped his head again, but she pushed him back with both hands on his chest. "What's the matter, my dear?"

  "Shhh, Samantha might awaken and my reputation would be in tatters. We can't do this here."

  A light gleamed in Benjamin's eye as he winked at her. "Yes, we can, if we're quiet. I've waited for a night such as this. Come." He grabbed up his bedroll with one hand then took her hand with the other and led her quickly from the cave. Once outside, he released her hand and spread the blanket on the ground.

  The full moon shone brightly on the forest floor, illuminating everything around them. Trees and bushes stood in stark outline. An owl hooted in the distance, answered by another. Icarus moved restlessly among the dried leaves. As her eyes adjusted, the world around them shone in the luminosity of the moon, an ethereal scene before her. She loved the moon, its soft light calming her agitation. Stars twinkled far above in the dark sky. She turned to Ben, her man, and saw him watching her. "How beautiful it is."

  He studied her face and then focused on her eyes. "You're beautiful, especially with the moon glow bathing your face like this. Amy, please believe me when I say I know that I was wrong about trying to make you into some ideal wife. Riding out after you yesterday, it finally sank in. I love you as you are, who you are, and who you'll become, and I desperately want to marry you, if you'll have me."

  "I don't know, after you vanished without a word. I thought I meant something to you; then you left. You broke my heart." She gazed at him, searching for his truth. "Why didn't you say anything? For years?"

  "As I've said, words are not my friends as they are yours." Ben turned her to face him, his hands gripping hers as though a lifeline. "I tried to write to you many times. Somehow fixing words on a page leaves me feeling as though they lose their meaning. I'd rather tell you in person how much I feel for you, care about you, love you from the depth of my being. I desire to see for myself your reaction to my love."

  She stared back at him, flames of desire smoldering within as she soaked in the hunger of his gaze. Saw his love shining from his eyes. Still, she needed one reassurance from him. "If I say yes, it has to be on one condition."

  Ben grinned, squeezing her hands. "Anything, my love. Tell me what I must do."

  "You must permit me to continue to be my own person and recognize that I do not lose my mind when I marry. I'll still be capable of intelligent thought and rational decisions. Agreed?"

  "Of course, darling. I'd never think otherwise." He kissed her again, drawing her hard against his chest as his lips pressed hers, his tongue sliding easily into her willing mouth. He stopped suddenly and looked at her, blue eyes twinkling. "You did say yes just now, didn't you?"

  "Yes, I did." She smiled at him, her lips tingling from his kiss.

  He leaned back and whooped with happiness. Then he kissed her, a crushing kiss, as he bent her back so he could delve deeply into her mouth. Ignoring the twinge from the cut on her cheek and the ache in her side, Amy's head buzzed as her body became overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation his hands created, gently roving her back, her buttocks, her waist. He lifted her to a standing position, heavy auburn locks cascading around her shoulders. He ran his hands through her dark coppery tresses and smiled.

  "My love." He kissed her lips, then nibbled from her delicate earlobe down her throat, where her pulse beat erratically, to the sensitive skin exposed by the deep neckline of her day dress.

  His fingers found the buttons lined up the back of her bodice. Cool air slipped inside the heavy fabric as it fell away from her breasts and slid to the ground, exposing her white, sheer shift beneath. She stepped out of the puddle of fabric, holding on to his shoulders for support. He kicked the dress aside, his eyes intent on her face. Her nipples hardened, straining against the lightweight gown in anticipation of his touch.

  His breath caught when his hand encircled the pendant gleaming in the moonlight, lifting the slight weight from where it nestled between the mounds of her breasts. His eyes searched out hers. "You are wearing the gem?"

  "I found it in the study." Suddenly her earlier certainty failed her. "I thought it was meant to be your gift to me, upon my acceptance of your proposal."

  His fingers feathered along the chain, sending teasing vibrations across her moonlit skin. "I can understand how you reached such a conclusion, though that is, unfortunately, not the case."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to presume too much." She started to pull away, but he wouldn't allow her to do so. His eyes shone in the near dark surrounding them.

  "I'll buy you something finer to match your beauty," he murmured. "If I could give you the moon, my little flower, I would. I love you so much it hurts."

  She stroked a finger along his jaw, light pricks against her skin from the shadowy stubble of his beard. His sharp intake of air drew her gaze to his eyes, where his love radiated out to reach her soul. "My darling Ben, I think I love you, too."

  "You think?" His mouth curved slightly before his lips found hers, setting her innermost core aflame. Then he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding inside, igniting her response, their tongues dancing an ancient rhythm together. Too soon he broke their connection to search her expression. "Tell me you know."

  "I know I need you, Benjamin," she whispered. "I'll always need you."

  He shook his head slowly, his expression tortured. He kissed her again, lightly, teasingly. "That's not enough."

  With each kiss, her desire for him threatened to overwhelm her. "What more do you need?"

  "For you to know." He dipped his head, his warm lips pressed on the spot where her racing pulse beat in her neck.

  The assault on her senses challenged her ability to process what he demanded. She angled her head back, giving him permission to attack her throat. She wanted more, desired more. She needed to be with him. Not just like this, but always. Now she knew what he meant, what he needed, what they needed. "I love you, Benjamin."

  "Are you certain? You're not saying that so I'll do this"—he kissed her—"again, are you?"

  "No." She kissed him, eyes open, gauging his reaction. "I'm saying I love you because I do. I desire to be with you, as your friend, your wife, and your lover, forever."

  "That's what I needed to hear." He kissed her again, long and slow, exploring her mouth with gentle swipes of his tongue.

  She reveled in the power of the man beneath her hands, the de
lectable taste of his mouth, and the sheer joy of him inside her heart. She paused in their exploration, gazing at him for a long moment. "I'll be yours and you'll be mine, forever."

  "I love you, sweetheart. Hold on to me."

  He trailed kisses down her throat, to her collarbone, and lower. A soft growl emitted from his throat when his gaze landed where her breasts rose and fell rapidly with each breath. Then his mouth sought out the smooth skin in the valley between her breasts. He plunged his face there, inhaling her fragrance on a deep breath. He raised his head to kiss her again, and his hands moved from her waist to pull the wispy fabric aside, off her shoulders and down her arms, to follow the discarded dress. Her breasts glowed in the moonlight, the gem glinting between them, enticing his mouth to search for a nipple, to pull and play with the hardened tip until she cried out mindlessly. She arched her back, raising her breasts to be within easy reach of his hot, exploring tongue. Sensation crashed upon sensation until Amy could only hold on to him to keep from collapsing.

  Somewhere she heard a tiny voice telling her she should stop, they should wait until after the wedding, but with the events of the day she wanted him to possess her forever. She didn't want her first time to be with anyone else, under any circumstances. She'd waited long enough to be with the man she had loved for years, the man she'd longed to marry. How could she have fooled herself into thinking she could ignore the passion they shared?

  "Amy, my Amy." He kissed her breast. "I thought I'd lost you forever. Thank you for trusting me."

  She raised his head so she could look into his eyes, their crystal-blue depths reflecting the moonlight above her. "No matter what else, Ben, know that even when I didn't realize it, I still loved you. I always will." She kissed him, the rush of emotion bringing tears to her eyes.

  "You're crying?" He blinked, surprised. "My love, did I hurt you?"

  "No, of course not. I'm just realizing how happy I am." She smiled at him, trying to reassure him. "Love me."

  "Here? Is that what you want?" He searched her eyes, his hands trailing up and down her arms.