Seduced (13 page)

“Your sister has made more biscuits, and my brother is talking of an afternoon walk to the seeps. It seems we’ve all been busy.”

“I had to marry Jimmy,” she said, because there was no way to ease into the conversation. She stared down at her hands in the gloves that he’d insisted she wear. “I thought I did, anyway.”

He stopped and she could tell by his tension, his stillness, that he was listening with his whole body. Such attention was disarming, but flattering too. She’d never been so
important
to a man. Not Christopher. Certainly not Jimmy. Not even her father.

Annie might have had that joy, but to her father, Melody was simply frivolous.

This marriage would not be a hardship with a man who paid such attention to her.

“I . . . I don’t judge you. We’ve all had to do things we probably wished we hadn’t.”

“He was my fiancé's brother. Christopher died . . . so many good men died, and Jimmy came back.” She nearly laughed, though none of it was funny. Jimmy’s survival seemed proof that God had not been watching those battlefields. “Father was dead, my brother too. Mama. And our slaves—” She forced herself to look right at him, this man who went to war, who risked his life for something she hadn’t thought twice about until forced to. Add that to the pile of things he could judge her for. “Our slaves were gone and Annie and me... we did the best we could, but it was just the two of us and so much work. Jimmy offered marriage and I agreed, but he didn’t do the work, either, and there was no money and no one would work for him.”

“You didn't know his nature before the war?”

“He was . . . changed. He drank too much. His temper was tenuous.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I have to look after my sister. And I thought all the decisions I was making would do that.”

He walked toward her and she realized how tall he was. How serious. In her life before she wouldn’t have picked him even to dance; she liked men who smiled. And knew how to flirt and play her games. This man didn’t know how to flirt. You could tell by looking at him, the stone and steel of him was not made for such a thing. He might have been easier before the war, but he was never fun.

She’d liked fun.

Now, she liked the way he cared for those seeds. The way he looked at her as he crossed the field. His face in the firelight—she liked that, too. The way he played the harmonica and laughed when she said shocking things.

“Your sister seems set on Denver.”

“I think my sister has a false idea of what our lives would be like there.”

“Do . . . do you have no other family? No one else to go to?”

She shook her head.

“My brother,” he said, “thought to sell a barrel of oil from the seeps and give the money to you. He said that would be enough to get you passage on a wagon train heading back to St. Joseph. From there you can get the train and head east.”

“There’s nothing back east for us.”

“Then you could go west.”

“And try our luck with the Indians?”

He glanced away. “Tell me what you would have us do, Melody?”

You know
, she thought.
Don't make me do this. Please. You know.

But in the end he was silent and she had no choice.

“Marry me.”

COLE STEPPED BACK, stunned, but not by her boldness. No, he was shocked by his own reaction. A recoil of the soul.

Not at her, but what she was proposing.

“It . . . it makes good sense,” she stammered when he was silent. “This land will prosper with all of us working.”

“I can hire men for that,” he stammered and she flinched, color draining from her skin.

“You can't hire men to have your children,” she whispered.

No. But she was all but suggesting he hire her.

His parents’ love had been a tangible cloud around them. They stole kisses on the porch, walked hand in hand to church. It never occurred to him that his own marriage would be anything less than that.

“You speak of this like it's a business arrangement—I offer you security and you offer me free labor and children?”

Her eyes blazed. “I am sorry I can no longer offer you my fine dowry or some of Father's acreage near the river.”

“I don't want those things.”

“Then what do you want?” she snapped.

He had thought the war and his two years as a hired gun had killed not only the expectation that he would marry, but that he would marry for love. And yet, here it was. Marriage would solve the problem of Melody and her sister. And he could not pretend that he didn’t want her. He did. More every minute.

He could marry Melody to keep her and her sister safe.

He could marry her to atone for his sins.

But that wasn't the marriage he wanted.

As beautiful as she was, as interesting and strong—he wanted a marriage that wasn’t born of desperation.

“More.” The word slid out of him, a whisper, a breath. True despite its meager entrance into the world. He wanted more than her cold proposition.

“What more is there?” she nearly spat.

“You have just been freed from a terrible marriage. How can you be sure I am not as bad or worse than Jimmy?”

She lifted her chin. “You overpaid me for the seeds.”

He laughed despite himself. “You're easy to convince.”

“You are kind, you work hard, don’t appear to drink.”

“There isn’t anything to drink.”

“Still, you’re of . . . pleasing face and form.” That she blushed at those words sent blood pounding through his veins. Suddenly he wondered how long she’d been staring at him while he shaved before he’d pulled his shirt on. Apparently the answer was awhile.

“You are of pleasing face and form, as well,” he murmured.

“I would be a good wife. I have been trained.” Images of sex bloomed in his mind and he turned away, embarrassed by his thoughts. She was a woman who had been abused sorely by her husband, and thinking that way about her was to compound the injury done to her.

“I meant,” she said, stammering and blushing as if she’d seen the thoughts in his head, “I can care for you. Children. For our home. Even out here.”

She’d dragged Steven across a field to a cave; he had faith she could do anything she had to.

“Jimmy’s brother, before the war, did you love him?” he asked.

“No.” She laughed as if the idea was outrageous. “I loved the future he would bring me. The status. Father approved of our lands being joined. Thinking about it, I'm not sure that I thought enough about him to even like him. I could not tell you what his favorite season was, or food. I don't remember the color of his eyes. What he dreamt of. What he wanted. But I went to great lengths to make sure that he loved me. That . . . I would have the life I wanted.”

Her honesty was astounding. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a person more ready to face who they’d been. It was brave. It made him like her more.

But he was not Christopher and he would not have her think he was.

“I was in love with a girl from the neighboring farm,” he told her. “Jane. We were engaged practically since birth.”

She snapped her mouth shut so hard her teeth clicked. “Is . . . do you still love her?”

“No. After the war, I couldn’t stay in West Virginia. I had to find my brother. And she looked at me and . . . expected the old me, I think. I wasn’t that person anymore. It was a relief to leave her. And I think she was relieved. “

“So, you are free.”

Free. Yes, he was. Though not in the way she thought. He was free from that cave. His chains destroyed by her laughter and seeds. The hope she'd returned to him.

He would have her free in the same manner.

He was close enough that he could see the dirt caught in the sweat of her neck. Gnats buzzed around her hair, which was golden and wild in the sunlight.

“Do you truly want to be married again?”

“I am a woman,” she said. “It’s what we do.”

“If you had freedom—”

“My sister tried to play this game with me,” she said. “Freedom is an adventure. I have had enough of adventure. I want security. Home. Children. People to . . . ”

“Love?”

“I am not that much a fool. Not anymore.”

How astounding to realize that he was. He was that fool.

“But I would like to have someone to care for. Work beside.” Tears stood out in her eyes and she blinked them away. Such power she had. Such control.

“What is the difference?” he asked.

“I don't know. But love, faith, trust . . . all those things bring ruin to women. And I have been ruined enough.”

“None of us can ever get back what we lost,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said. “But it doesn’t mean I have to live in exile from what I want for the rest of my life, does it?”

Her words shook him to his core and he realized that was what he’d been doing for long, long years.

Living in exile.

From the life he wanted.

And she would offer back to him a cold shadow of what he wanted. And they both deserved better than that.

HE WAS GOING to refuse. It was obvious. Anxiety opened like a great hole under her feet and she realized that this was her moment to be brave.

She stood up from the tree stump, the bark catching at her skirts. She put a hand to her trembling belly and tried to sound . . . unafraid.

“I . . . I am not unwilling. If that's what you are worried about,” she said, and he stared at her blankly. “Because of Jimmy.”

Before he could say anything she stepped toward him, stopping only when she could feel his chest against hers. The tips of her breasts, every time she took a breath, touched him, and heat and fear rattled through her in equal measure.

He is not like Jimmy
, she told herself.

“What are you doing, Melody?”

Being brave. Caring for my sister. Securing my future. Trying to resurrect the dream for the third time.

None of those were things she could say. There were, in fact, no words that would convey all the things she was doing.

So she kissed him.

He stood stock still against her and she wasn't entirely sure what to do next. With Christopher this was all that had been required. She would kiss him and he'd manage the rest.

And Jimmy . . . The thought of what he’d done swallowed her bravery and she nearly stepped back. Nearly ran.

This is the only way
, she thought, and forced herself to stay there, even as she began to shake with tension.

Cole was as still as she was, those lips—really very soft—unmoving against hers.

She stepped closer, until their bellies touched, and she felt the contact simmer through her. Ignoring her fear, she reached up to twine her hands around his neck. She found the soft silk of his hair and the heat of his skin.

So hot, his skin was so hot. And his chest so hard against hers. He was a wall of strength and heat. He was bigger than Christopher and Jimmy.

Do not run
, she told herself.
Do not
.

His hands wrapped around her waist, and the bite of his fingers into her skin through her dress made her jerk backwards, breaking the kiss. She leaned away from his grip on her waist and he dropped his hands.

“You’re terrified,” he whispered.

“I’m not, I’m—”

“You’re terrified and you would still seduce me into marrying you?” he asked.

It was hard to believe she'd ever thought his dark eyes were cold. They burned her flesh and she wished she could turn away, run somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere.

She lifted her chin and answered his question with silence. But there were ashamed tears burning behind her eyes.

I am desperate
.
And you know that.

“You are shaking with fear,” he whispered.

“It is desire.”

His eyes called her a liar.

After a moment he stepped closer, and hope and fear made her heart hammer in her chest. His hands lifted and gathered hers in their warm, solid grip. But he did not kiss her, or shove himself against her. He just held her hands and looked into her eyes, as if she were a book he was trying to read.

It will be okay
, she told herself. They would all be okay. He was kind and his lips were soft and perhaps . . . perhaps she had done enough and they could stay here. In this safe place.

Finger by finger he pulled the gloves off her, until he had them in one hand and her hands in the other. The rough scrape of his calloused thumb against the tender skin of her wrist made her twitch.

With his eyes on her, he did it again.

“Cole . . . ”

And then again.

“What are you doing?”

Again. Every brush of his thumb there uncoiled her until the fourth time he did it, a gasp escaped. She dropped her eyes.

Say something, please, release me from this uncertainty
.

He lifted his hand to her lips, his thumb touching the corner of her mouth, and she could barely breathe for the tension in her body. The pain and pleasure of his touch. Of this doubt.

“Does that hurt?” he asked.

“No,” she breathed, and he touched her lip again, the weight of his thumb pulling it down until the damp interior was revealed.

“Are you scared?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“You’re lying. And you don’t need to. You can always tell me the truth.”

“Before,” she whispered. “I was scared. I’m . . . I’m not now.”

He was so gentle, so careful, that the fear slipped away, replaced by that echo of pleasure. Her skin burned where they touched, the fire spreading from her wrist, up her arm. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“I must say no to the type of marriage you are proposing,” he said.

Her eyes snapped open. “What?”

“I want something more than desperation.”

She slapped his hands away. “Are you talking about love?”

He was, and he couldn't believe it himself.

“What if it's not impossible?” he breathed.

“You don't think that.” Her scorn was crushing, but he didn't wince away from it.

“I want to. I want to believe that I can feel something good in this life again. That the war has not killed everything. If I get married . . . I want it to be born in those things—happiness, hope. Love. Isn't that what you want?”