Sweet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  He paused in unbuttoning his shirt. “Thank you.”

  Lydia glanced up, smiling. “If you’ll put your things over that chair, I’ll come back for them when you’re in the tub. I have fresh clothes laid out for you upstairs. I’ll get them now.”

  Nathan watched her go. He was also reminded of how their first encounter at the Silver Lady ended, and his words, spoken softly to himself were an echo of that occasion. “Oh, Liddy, I think you’ve only postponed the inevitable.”

  Chapter 12

  “You and Irish are getting on,” Nathan said. He wiped the last bit of lather from his face and tossed the towel on top of the washing stand. On the pretense of checking his shaven jaw for the ravages of the straight razor, Nathan glanced in the mirror again. His eyes, however, focused on Lydia’s reflection. She was sitting in the rocker, her hands folded calmly in her lap and her attention drawn inward to her own thoughts. There was not the least hint of rose color in her cheeks. The fact that he was finished shaving and what that act had previously signified made no impact on her that Nathan could see.

  His eyes wandered over her. Her beautiful hair had been loosely plaited in a thick braid. It curved around her neck and fell over her shoulder. The curling tip brushed her breast. The modest collar of her nightgown was buttoned to the hollow of her slender throat and the robe she wore was tightly cinched at her waist. Her feet were bare. Lydia’s heels rested on a rung on the rocker below the seat and the chair swayed back and forth slowly. She looked demur, untouchable, and in spite of that, or perhaps because of it, she was desirable.

  Nathan repeated his earlier observation and added, “It was quite evident at dinner this evening. Irish was enjoying himself immensely.”

  Lydia suddenly realized Nathan was speaking to her.

  Her head snapped up and she stopped worrying the inside of her lip. “We’ve managed a truce of sorts,” she admitted.

  “It’s more than that.” He turned away from the mirror and leaned back against the washstand.

  “Perhaps it is. I suppose you’re congratulating yourself for whatever progress has been made.”

  Nathan began unbuttoning his shirt. “What do you mean?”

  “You know very well. You’re not going to deny that your leaving for the bush was planned, are you?”

  “Not at all. But you seem to suspect some ulterior motive. My conversation with Irish should have put those thoughts to rest. Didn’t you hear anything I told him at dinner? I thought you were interested.”

  “Of course I heard, and of course I was interested, but you’re deliberately misunderstanding me.” Nathan was trying to avoid the very subjects she wanted to discuss and had been almost since the moment he arrived at the house. She could admit to herself that she had hoped the bath and fresh clothes, the solicitous attention paid to him, would soften Nathan to the point where she could venture with her concerns.

  Her plan had not worked nearly so well as his own. He had managed to avoid being alone with her until now, giving her no opportunity to say what was on her mind. During dinner the conversation centered on the station, with Nathan reporting to Irish what work needed to be done. There were squatters to roust, a dam in need of extensive repair, and stray livestock to be brought back from neighboring stations. He estimated twenty sheep lost only recently in the northwest to dingos and another hundred gone to bushrangers.

  “You know I mean your plan to leave Irish and me in each other’s pockets for a week,” Lydia said. “I’m quite sure you needed to go, and Irish found your report valuable, but it was more important to you that Irish and I make some sort of headway.”

  Nathan’s look was considering. His fingers paused on the buttons of his shirt. “Wasn’t it important to you?”

  “Stop doing that!” Frustrated, Lydia tightened her folded hands into a single fist. “Stop making it seem as if you did what you did for me. Yes, Irish and I are getting on as you said. I’ll even admit to you that I’ve arrived at a certain fondness for him and that I enjoy his company as much as he enjoys mine. The opportunity you arranged for Irish and me to come to know each other has been well used, but it doesn’t alter what’s between you and me, Nathan. Nothing’s changed there.”

  Nathan shrugged out of his shirt and hung it on a hook near the armoire before he sat down on the bed and began taking off his shoes and socks. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being obtuse again,” he said, “but to what ‘nothing’ in particular are you referring? From my perspective everything’s changed. Or have you forgotten our voyage on Avonlei? Have you forgotten Samoa? Tonight at dinner I brushed your hand. You reacted as if I were diseased. If that’s an indication of how nothing’s changed then you and I see things very differently.”

  In spite of her nearness to the fireplace and the crackling red-orange flames, Lydia felt warmth seeping out of her flesh and bone. “That’s not fair,” she said softly, staring at her clasped hands now. “You know I haven’t forgotten anything about the time we spent together. But it was all a lie, Nathan. It was based on the fact that I couldn’t remember anything else. I think we need to discuss how we mean to go on from here.”

  Go on from here, he thought. Her words echoed eerily in his head. It sounded ominous. He unfastened the top button of his trousers. “Apparently you’ve given it a great deal of thought these last days. I take it you have some idea of how you intend us to proceed with our lives. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve decided?”

  Lydia didn’t like the edge of sarcasm she heard in his voice, the tone that was gritty and soft and fluid and infinitely dangerous. She drew her bare feet onto the seat of the rocker, hugging her knees to her chest. “Well, I have given it a lot of thought,” she said quietly, “and it seems to me there is but one solution to serve us both: a marriage in name only.”

  “A marriage in name only,” Nathan repeated consideringly. His palm rested on the flat of his abdomen. He tapped himself lightly on the belly as he thought it over. “No,” he said at last, his icy gray eyes settling again on Lydia. “I don’t think so.”

  “You only pretended to think it over,” she said accusingly.

  He shrugged, unconcerned. “True. Do you know why? Because it’s madder than any bloody thing Irish has ever proposed, that’s why. Do you really think I’m going to lie beside you night after night and never lay a hand on you again—or that you’re not going to want me to? I’m not a monk, Lydia, and I won’t be treated like one. You don’t remember our voyage the way I do if you can think you can live like that either.”

  Lydia’s skin went from cold to hot as he stirred memories she would have preferred to keep buried. “I told you I remember,” she said. “That’s why I believe separate bedrooms is the most reasonable solution. You wouldn’t hear of it the night before you left and, quite frankly, I can’t force you out of here, but I can take another room.”

  “And I can drag you back.”

  She nodded, catching the underside of her lip again. Why must he make a difficult situation even more strained? “I realize that,” she said. “That’s why I didn’t move my things. I thought it should be a mutual decision for one of us to go elsewhere.”

  Nathan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “We both stay here,” he said. “That’s the way I want it.”

  Agitated by his high-handedness, Lydia stood. “And what of what I want?” she demanded. “Do my wants mean so little to you?”

  He shot to his feet and crossed to stand in front of her in a few strides. His fingers hooked one of her wrists to keep her from retreating. “Your wants?” he asked. “They mean a great deal to me. But I don’t think you know what they are.”

  “Please, Nathan, let me go.” She pulled her wrist lightly, hardly believing he would hold her against her will. His grasp only became tighter.

  “Shall I tell you?”

  “Nathan.”

  He ignored her. He dragged her hand to the taut front of his trousers and forced her to feel the heat and strength of his
erection. “You want this,” he said. “You want my cock inside you, filling you, touching you so deeply that you’ll cry out with the pleasure of it.”

  Now Lydia tried to pull back in earnest. Her cheeks were flushed hotly and the expression in her dark eyes was rebellious. “Don’t be crude. If this was all I wanted, then any man would do.”

  “What are you saying?” he asked, letting her go. “That any man won’t? That you want me?”

  “Yes…no...” She threw up her hands to ward him off. “You’re only trying to confuse me.”

  “You’re already confused, Lydia. You’ve mistaken me for some man who is not your husband. Vows were exchanged, promises of honor and obedience were made. With my body I thee worship.”

  “And what of love, Nathan? I made that vow, too.” Lydia turned away from him quickly, blinking hard to stem the flow of hot tears. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry in front of him, wouldn’t let him see how deeply felt the hurt was.

  “You didn’t know what you were saying then,” he said, “so I won’t hold you to it.”

  She laughed shortly, humorlessly. “How very gallant of you.”

  “But the other things we promised to each other,” he went on, “I expect will be kept.”

  “Of course. They serve you.”

  “Serve me?” he asked. He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. Raising one hand, he cupped Lydia’s chin with his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face toward him. “Do you really think I’m the only one served? I’m offering you fidelity and respect and the comfort of these surroundings. In the bed behind us I’m offering you pleasure. Are you really going to be so proud and stubborn that you won’t accept what you want the most?”

  “You don’t know what I want,” she said, pulling her chin away from his touch. Her cobalt blue eyes were sad now. She pitied him because he could not understand or chose not to. “You don’t know what it’s like for me.”

  “Don’t I?” When she jerked aside, Nathan’s hand had remained in midair momentarily. Now he lowered it to the curve of her neck. It lay lightly against her skin and the collar of her gown. His thumb flicked at the button at the base of her throat. He felt her pulse racing just beneath his fingertips. “How can I not? I see and feel things when I touch you that you only sense. Did you know that your beautiful eyes are darkening now? They’re so expressive, Lydia. They captivated me at our first meeting, so wide and deep, cautious and curious at the same time. And even when you hold my gaze defiantly as you’re doing now, I’ve already glimpsed the excitement you want to shield.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m not.” The button he was flicking slid through the fastening loop. His hand drifted lower and began the same casual manipulation. “Your heart is beating hard. I can feel it with the heel of my hand.” His other hand had moved between their bodies and was tugging on the belt of her robe. When he released it his fingers splayed wide across her abdomen. “Your skin is warm,” he said. “It’s almost as if you’re not wearing this nightgown. If I were to touch your breasts right now they would swell in my palms and the nipples would stiffen. It wouldn’t be because you’re cold, Lydia. We both know that. It would be because you like it when I touch you there. You like my hands on your breasts, my fingers teasing. You like it when I put my mouth there and suck.”

  She gasped. His hands had not moved. He was still only touching her throat and her stomach and yet it was as if he were doing the very things he described. She could feel her breasts swelling and her nipples hardening. The thought of his mouth there created a tug inside her that went from her breasts to her thighs. His words were powerful, the ache immediate and intolerable. Closing her eyes did not help; the vision was clearer.

  Nathan undid another button and went resolutely to the next. “Your skin is so sweet, Lydia. Warm and silky. The fragrance is elusive, perhaps it’s not even there, but I always think of flowers, of lilac and lavender and tropical orchids. I think you like it when I taste your skin, when I touch my mouth to your bare shoulder or raise the flesh of your neck with my teeth. My tongue on your breast, Lydia. What about that?”

  His voice was a husky whisper and his words lay across her like a silken net. The entrapment was seductive and appealing. Inside she was liquid. Her knees threatened to give way. Another fastener was undone and this time Nathan’s fingers slipped past the lace piping and brushed her skin. She could barely draw a breath.

  “Open your mouth, Lydia.” He bent his head toward her and she could taste his words on her lips. “Let me kiss you the way you want to be kissed.”

  Lydia’s entire body trembled violently and then was still. “No.” She dragged her eyes away from Nathan’s, breaking the spell, and eluded his hands as he made to grab her. Putting the rocker between them, Lydia knotted her belt again. Her palms were perspiring. She pretended to smooth her robe to wipe away the evidence of panic. “Leave me alone, Nathan. I don’t want you to touch me at all. Go to Tess if you need a woman. She’d be happy to oblige you.”

  Nathan’s brows arched. “Tess? You’re mistaking me for Brig. She’s never been in my bed.”

  “She’d have you though.”

  “Probably.” He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his trousers. “But she’s not the woman I want. She’s not my wife. You are.”

  Lydia simply stared at him.

  “Do you know that I spent most of my time in the bush thinking of you?” he asked. “I regretted that I had to leave so quickly after we arrived, and yes, you were right that I left to give you and Irish time alone together. At least you were partially right. I also left because I’d hoped that bloody nonsense about absence making the heart grow fonder was true. I see now that it isn’t. But if you didn’t miss me here”—he pointed to his temple—“or here”—he touched his heart—“I think you did miss me here.”

  Lydia squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see where he pointed but knowing just the same.

  “If I ever entertained any doubts, your response a few minutes ago put them to rest.”

  Peeking at him through the thick fan of her lashes, Lydia saw his hands had returned to his pockets. She glared at him. “I don’t care what you saw a few minutes ago,” she said, “or what you thought you saw, but I don’t want you, Nathan Hunter. Do you understand? I don’t want you!”

  Nathan kicked aside the rocker. It tipped on its side and thudded heavily to the floor. Lydia flinched, startled, and her eyes darted toward the door.

  “No one’s going to interfere,” he told her. “Irish can’t come up here and Molly and Tess wouldn’t dare. Don’t think of bolting, Lydia. We’re going to settle what’s between us once and for all.”

  “Fine.” She folded her arms in front of her, under her breasts, and thrust out her chin. Her stance dared him to touch her.

  Nathan accepted the challenge. If she had been a man he might have hit her, but he knew she was bracing for the touch of another kind. He did not disappoint. Closing the distance between them, Nathan’s hand snaked around her neck and after an initial, futile resistance on Lydia’s part he brought her face to within a hairsbreadth of his own.

  “Can you really say you don’t want me?” he asked.

  Lydia averted her eyes. His breath was warm and sweet on her face. “I don’t want you.”

  “We’ll see, Liddy.” His lips brushed the closed and mutinous line of her mouth. “We’ll see.”

  Nathan slid one arm around her stiff back and another under her knees. He picked her up. She did nothing to stop him; neither did she place her arms around his neck to help him. Her slight body was deadweight in his arms. Dropping Lydia on the bed, Nathan followed her down and lay beside her. She didn’t struggle, but remained still and quiet. Though she gave no indication that she intended to fight, Nathan trapped Lydia’s legs beneath one of his own. He propped himself on one elbow and stared at her while she stared at the ceiling.

  “You’ve set me quite a task, Liddy,” he said softly. Hi
s fingertips played with the wisps of silky hair at her temple. “You’d do better to give in now gracefully than have compliance dragged from you almost against your will. Pleasure will be yours either way, but one will leave you with the bitter aftertaste of guilt. It doesn’t have to be like that.”

  “You could admit that I know what I want and leave me alone,” she said. “You could allow me to choose freely how I give my body.”

  “And to whom?” he asked. “Not as long as you’re my wife, Liddy. You belong to me.”

  He recalled his approach to the house, his thinking then that he wanted to take her fast and hard, and how it had changed again. His desire for her was the same, his need just as deep as it had been, but Lydia, whether she understood it or not, controlled the tempo of his loving.

  He wanted to be inside her, wanted to be sheathed by her, but he needed to hear her admit it was what she wanted too.

  He bent his head and nuzzled her neck, nibbling her skin with his warm, dry lips. The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her ear. His teeth tugged on her lobe. He knew precisely where to touch to wring a response from her and what he engaged in was not foreplay, but an assault.

  Nathan’s lips touched the corner of Lydia’s mouth. His nose brushed her cheek. He kissed her chin, the underside of her jaw, and the crinkle just between her brows. Her lids closed as his mouth drew near her eyes and he kissed them gently in turn, in no hurry to force her response quickly.

  His free hand slid under her robe and cupped her breast through the nightgown. His fingers made a slow spiral path toward the nipple. He heard her suck in her breath sharply as his thumb hovered over the sensitive flesh. The anticipation aroused her as much as the touch.

  Nathan’s knee nudged the hem of Lydia’s nightgown upward. She pushed at the material, trying to lower it again, until Nathan captured her wrists and pinned her to the bed. His grip was loose, but Lydia would not struggle against it. Instead she glared at him.