Jane Bonander (13 page)

“One thing at a time, Susannah.” His voice was husky against her ear.

“But . . . but they’re bound to play something fast. What will we do?”

He stopped and held her away from him. “We’ll beg off. Use Corey as an excuse. Don’t worry,” he urged, tipping her face to his. “I’ll take care of it.”

She gazed up at him, her body still flushed and humming. “Somehow,” she managed to say, “somehow, I think dancing fast would be safer.”

He grinned at her, that half grin she’d come to cherish, then pulled her close. “Somehow, I believe you’re right.”

Melting against him, she felt him, hard and ready, against her stomach. Surprised, she raised her head.
“You . . . you feel it, too?” She heard the breathlessness in her voice.

He arched an eyebrow. “It’s pretty damned hard to be this close to you and not feel something, Susannah.”

She swallowed the knot of emotions in her throat and concentrated on the tension in her belly. Rubbing her chin against his chest, she whispered, “How do people do this out in public?”

His hand pressed her closer. “Not everyone feels this way, Susannah.”

She moved her fingers to the back of his neck, threading them through his hair. “Then . . . then why do we?”

He cursed; it sounded like a caress. “Damned if I know. I’ll tell you one thing, though.”

She pressed against him, feeding the hunger. “What’s that?”

“We’d better not dance this close on Friday night.”

She swallowed again, then tried to catch her breath. “Maybe . . . maybe we should practice dancing farther apart.”

“All right,” he agreed. “Let’s try. And a little small talk couldn’t hurt.” He moved her away from him, resting his hand on her hip. There was enough room for someone to squeeze between them.

She felt cheated. “Small talk?”

He gave her a stupid smile “Well, Miss Susanny. Fine night for a dance, dontcha think? Look at that moon, wouldja? Yessiree, that there moon looks like a lemon pie. Ummm, now don’t that make you hungry fer a slice of lemon pie, Miss Susanny?”

She collapsed against him, laughing at his foolishness.

“Come on, now,” he urged. “Practice small talk.”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head around a smile. “I can’t—”

“Come on,” he coaxed.

“Oh, all right.” She grinned up at him, batting her eyelashes. “Well, I do declare, Mr. Wolfe man—that were yore name, weren’t it, Mr. Wolfe man? I swan,” she said, tittering foolishly, “I gets to these dancin’ parties an’ I forgets my own name. Seems unlikely I could remember your’n. But you’re right, Mr. Wolfe man, it sure is a fine night for an apple-parin’, but that moon don’t look like no lemon pie to me. To me, it looks more like my aunt Tilly’s round, white behind.”

He shook with laughter. “That’s the idea. Now, remember that when we dance at the party.”

She loved to listen to him laugh. It was still rusty, but now she knew why. And what she wanted to do most in the world was make his laughter be as natural to him as breathing.

Staring up into his face, she mused, “Well, at least this way I can look at you.”

The color of his eyes changed, darkening with desire. “And when you look at me like that, I want to kiss you until you faint, then drag you off to the hayloft.”

Their merriment was gone; desire returned. “How . . . how could we dance in the hay?”

His sensual lids hung over his eyes. “It would be pretty hard. I guess we’d have to find something else to do.”

The warmth in her belly expanded. “What . . . what would we do?”

“We could lie in it, like a young man and a young woman just discovering forbidden pleasures,” he answered, running his hand over her hip.

His touch made her brave; it also made her ache with need. “Just . . . just lie in it? Is . . . is that what new lovers do?”

They’d stopped all pretense of dancing and stood, barely touching one another. She throbbed and ached in places only Nathan had awakened; she knew he felt something, too.

“No,” he said on a whisper, “I’d probably touch you here.” His fingers grazed her breast, sending the nipple tingling.

“And . . . and what would I do?”

“Ah, being the sweet, young virgin you are, you’d push my hand away, hoping I’d try again, and again.”

“And would you?” His thumb continued to circle her nipple, and she knew she’d collapse in a heap on the floor if he moved away.

“Being the randy young buck I am, I wouldn’t stop until—”

“Mama?” Susannah felt a tug on her skirt. Corey stood beside her, staring up at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

Flustered, she bent and hugged him. “Why, darling. I didn’t hear you. Did you have a good nap?”

She glanced up at Nathan, who had turned and walked to the window.

“Corey hungry,” he announced.

Susannah looked up just as Nathan turned. Their gazes locked.
So is Mama
, she thought, wondering how she would survive the party.

S
trains of “Little Brown Jug” were carried on the wind for miles before they reached the Stedersons’ ranch. Susannah’s emotions ranged from excitement to fear to dread as the buggy, which Nathan had rented, clattered over the rough trail that led from the road to the ranch house. There was a bite in the air, and thick, dense clouds sank into the tops of the hills, a prediction of rain. Or snow. She shivered, even though she wore an old black cape and Nathan had draped a buffalo robe over their knees.

She curled her hands in her lap to keep from wrinkling her dress. It had turned out quite well. She’d carefully washed it in rosewater, hung it outside to dry in the wind, then sewed tiny pink grosgrain rosettes over all the moth holes, enhancing the deeper pink roses in the fabric itself. After tracing a rosette with her nail, she pressed her fingers through the front closure at her throat to make sure it wouldn’t gape open. She’d discovered, to her dismay, that she was far more well-endowed than her mother had been.

Nathan’s gaze rested on her. “You look beautiful, Susannah. Doesn’t she, little whistler man?”

Corey sat between Nathan’s legs, too busy “helping” him guide the team to respond.

She tossed Nathan a swift glance, not truly believing his words, but grateful, just the same He’d said them earlier, too. As she’d emerged from her bedroom, feeling flushed and nervous, she’d found him watching her from across the room. It felt odd to have a man in her midst who didn’t berate her, who actually complimented her. A pain, like rough twine, squeezed her heart. She was going to feel mighty lonesome when Nathan finally left for his other job.

Susannah’s gaze was drawn to the Stedersons’ home, which was fast approaching. It was the largest home in the area, for not only was Lars Stederson one of the most successful ranchers in the state, but he and his wife, Maybelle, had eight children. And Maybelle was pregnant with their ninth.

Susannah tried to think of anything but the party. It didn’t work. Dancing with Nathan would be the least of her problems. Or, maybe not. Lord, she was beginning to wonder which problem would erupt and make a fool of her first, the fact that she and Nathan weren’t married, or the fact that she couldn’t dance with him without feeling a fierce arousal.

After the first lesson, when Corey had interrupted them, Susannah had hurried to her room and checked herself in the mirror. Her eyes had glistened, her cheeks were flushed and the pulse at her throat had fluttered hard against her skin. All signs she’d noticed before, but only with Nathan.

Now, as her gaze wandered over the sprawling lawn where several buggies and buckboards were parked beside a thicket of eucalyptus trees, she felt a blister of panic replace the memories of arousal. There would be no more practicing. No more hiding in her room when she could no longer hide her feelings.

“Nathan, I can’t do this.”

He gave her knee a fatherly pat. “Sure, you can. No one knows but the two of us, Susannah.”

She drew a shuddering breath. “The tangled webs just keep growing bigger and more impossible to undo, don’t they? Like knots in a skein of yarn.”

“It’ll be fine, Susannah. Just paste a smile on your pretty face and pretend you’re having a good time. Who knows,” he added, tossing her one of his heartstopping smiles, “maybe you will. And remember, if things get tough, think about small talk.”

“Lemon pie moons and stupid smiles.” She sighed, the bubble of panic fading.

“And your aunt Tillie’s behind,” he reminded her.

A little snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it. “And Aunt Tillie’s behind.”

Briefly closing her eyes, she focused on what she had to do. After what she’d been through this past year, attending a party with a man like Nathan should be a pleasure, not a trip to the lynching tree. But that was how she still felt; tried and convicted by her own guilt. She had to do this, though. At this point, she had no choice.

Ed Barnes stopped sawing on his fiddle and pointed the bow at Nathan and Susannah. “Folks, we ain’t playin’ ‘Matrimonial Bliss’ for nothin’, you know. C’mon, now, dance!”

Susannah gave him a weak, answering smile.
Couldn’t the floor just open up and swallow me whole, instead?

“Hey.” Nathan nudged her arm. “Don’t look so glum. We’d better dance.”

Clenching her hands in her lap, she studied the other couples on the dance floor, which was really the Stedersons’ living room with all the furniture pushed to the walls. Concentrating on the music, Susannah tried to catch the beat. “Is this a waltz?”

“Yeah.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “A nice, slow one.”

Susannah swallowed a groan and went into his arms. Everyone cheered, forcing heat into her face. At least this time she was certain her embarrassment would override the arousal she knew would come when he held her in his arms.

And she was right; at least she forced herself to concentrate on her surroundings. She kept an eye on Corey, who was being entertained by two of the Stederson daughters. She scanned the room for people she knew. She found many, but also discovered some new faces. Couples she didn’t know.

Nathan swung her in circles, toward the patio doors that stood open. “We’d better do some serious dancing, or people will begin to talk.”

Serious dancing meant arousal. “Oh, Nathan, I don’t think I can—”

“Small talk, Susannah. Remember?” He whirled her onto the plank board patio. The air was cool, but it felt good, for the house, with everyone dancing and milling about, was warm.

Susannah relaxed against him. Nathan put both his arms around her, instructing her to do the same, then pulled her close. They rocked together, finding a rhythm of their own. Susannah felt the kernel of desire, but discovered she could hold onto it, enjoy it, keep it level.

“Well shucks, Miz Susanny, take a gander at that there moon.”

She smiled, then peered at the sky. As Louisa used to say, it was as black as the devil’s armpit. Not a moon or star in sight. “I think you’ve done gone blind, Mr. Wolfe man, sir,” she teased back. “That sky is blacken the backside of a skillet.”

He pulled in a deep breath, pressing her even closer. “Safer than talking about the hayloft.”

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her palms across his shoulders. She could feel the ridge of him against her belly. It hastened her own need. “Are you sure people can actually dance and not . . . not feel this way?”

His hand roamed her bottom, then slid to the safety of her back. “Believe me, Susannah. I’ve danced with dozens of women. I haven’t had the urge to bed that many.”

Her pulse raced, desire exploded inside her like an overripe fruit. “And . . . and you want to bed me?”

He took another deep breath, letting it out against her hair. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Her heart pounded in her ears and her legs felt heavy. “Why?” she asked, her voice sounding tinny in her ears.

He spun her around again, out of the light from the house, to a darkened corner of the patio. They stood, toe to toe, their arms still around each other. “Because you’re sweet and pretty, and don’t even know it. Because you’re a wonderful mother. Because your body is ripe for loving, and I want to be the one to love it. And,” he finished, kissing her forehead, “because you make me want to laugh again.”

She thought of his wife and son, and the edge on her desire diminished. “Oh, Nathan.” She pressed close, listening to the thundering beat of his heart. She wanted to make him laugh, make him happy again. She wanted in the worst way to tell him her deepest, darkest secrets, but in doing so, she would surely drive him away, and the one thing she wanted most in the world was to have him close. Always. She loved him. It was as simple as that. But she hadn’t been honest with him. She would be, soon. But not yet.

She breathed in his scent, capturing it in her lungs. No, not yet. The time would come soon enough. She wasn’t the sweet, wonderful woman he thought she was. When he discovered the truth, he’d leave, no doubt shouting “good riddance!” at the top of his lungs.

“I wonder how Corey’s doing.”

Sighing against his neck, she answered, “I suppose we should go in and find out.”

“I think we should wrap him up and take him home.”

Home
. For a fraction of a second, she felt a frantic caution. “We can’t leave before they serve lunch, Nathan. It wouldn’t be neighborly.”

He moaned, pressing her bottom against him. “And, what time do they serve lunch?”

She closed her eyes, allowing her need for him to engulf her. “Around . . . around midnight.” She brought her hands to his chest and rubbed, imagining it bare.

“God, woman,” he said on a groan. “Do you want me to do that to you?”

Swallowing hard, she answered, “If you like.”

“Don’t tempt me.” His voice was gruff, husky.

She took his hand and slid it through the closure at her bodice.

“My fingers are cold.” It was a soft warning. He grazed her nipple. It tightened.

“Warm them, then,” she ordered, her voice catching as he nimbly found a way through the top of her chemise to her bare flesh.

She clung to him, her knees weak as he fondled her. She found him still hard against her stomach, and couldn’t stop herself from moving against him, rubbing back and forth. She shook, her breath a rickety, unstable sound in her throat.

He explored her breast as a blind man might, touching every surface, weighing it in the palm of his hand. “I want to see you. God, Susannah, I’ve dreamed of it.” He pressed against her. “I’m ready to burst. Here,” he said, drawing her hand downward and holding it over him. “Feel it.”

She touched the hard length that pressed against his jeans, wondering at her heightened desire. She’d been forced to do this before, and had never liked it. Or wanted to do it. But this was Nathan, and she
wanted
Nathan. She stroked him, gently squeezing as she imagined what he would look like.

Pulling her hand away, he groaned into her hair. “We’ve got to stop, Susannah.”

She was in such a delicious, carnal haze, she barely heard him. Deep in her belly she felt a throbbing, a pulsing that pulled all of her nerve endings together. She was swollen; she knew if he touched her there, he’d find her wet. She also knew that what she felt now she’d never felt before.

“Well, there you two are!” Ed Barnes shouted back toward the door. “They’re out here, folks! Come on, now,” he ordered, “folks are waitin’ on you. Time to toast the lovebirds.”

When he left, Susannah stood against Nathan, frantic to catch her breath while she fixed her bodice. “Ready to face the neighbors?”

He stepped away from her and sucked in greedy breaths of air. “You’ll have to give me a minute.”

A shutter had been opened, and light poured out onto the patio. Glancing down, she understood his problem before he turned away.

“All right.” He turned back and took her arm, examining her. “You feel properly put together?”

She gave him a shaky smile. “What I feel is anything but proper.”

“Come on, Susannah. If there was ever a need for small talk, it’s now,” he warned.

Leaning into him, she chirped, “Well, now, Mr. Wolfe man, sir, I got me a mess of skinned possum in my shed, and my aunt Tillie cooks up the sweetest grits in the county. Wanna come fer supper? I promise she’ll wear somethin over that big, white behind of hers.”

He laughed. They both relaxed and went inside to be scrutinized by the neighbors.