The Convict and the Cattleman (11 page)

“The help is wearing pearls now.”

His emotionless statement made her flinch. Chin tucked to her chest, she’d feared his unspoken anger. All the warmth flooding her disappeared.

He raised her face with a gentle hand. “Your father made good money, didn’t he? You owned nice things once. Maybe not the things Charlotte had, but nothing to be ashamed of. What did he do?”

She blinked back more tears. “He was a glassblower. He made chandeliers, vases, goblets, nearly anything a well-to-do person could want.”

Mr. Andrus looked at the pearls coiled in his hand. He took her hand, turned it palm up and dropped them there. For a second, he hesitated, then folded her fingers over the necklace. “Keep them if you like.”

“I can’t,” she said, pushing them back at him.

He sighed. “Of course you can. They aren’t doing Charlotte any good.”

She shook her head. “Someone will think I stole them when I go back to the Factory. Or someone would take them. The help doesn’t wear pearls. Neither do convicts. Besides, Olivia might like them when she’s older.”

Mr. Andrus frowned. “Keep them. We’ll worry about what you can do with them before you leave.”

“Martha won’t like it.”

“Martha isn’t the mistress of this house. I make the rules. She follows along the same as everyone else. I think it’s time to give Charlotte’s things away. If you find anything of use, it’s yours. I’m sure Bess and her daughter might like some of it as well. I’ll have Rupert send word to have them come over one day.” He pushed a hand through his rumpled hair, the only indication he was emotional about giving his sister’s things away.

“I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

“She’d have liked knowing she could help someone else. I have the feeling she’d have liked you.”

Touched by his words, she smiled. “I’m only doing what you asked. Anyone would look at that child and love her right off.”

She willed him to understand Charlotte would have wanted it too.

He shook his head. “I wish it were true. If people knew she was born out of wedlock, she’d never know a moment’s peace. I’m grateful you haven’t judged.”

“I have no right to judge. She’s innocent. And I’m sure Charlotte truly believed someone would come back for her. For them.”

“She was wrong.”

The bitter words made her shiver. Bridgit reached up, taking his hand. “Mr. Andrus–”

He squeezed her fingers tenderly. “Jonah.”

“Jonah,” she whispered, liking the feel of his name on her lips.

“God, Bridgit, do you know how beautiful you looked wearing pearls?”

If she’d ever received a finer compliment, she couldn’t remember it. The lust in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. An echoing hunger swirled through her, followed by a tremor of anticipation. No one believed she’d never been with a man. She wanted to know what making love with Jonah was like. She had nothing to lose.

Rising, she slipped her hand free and pulled the frayed ribbon at the neckline of her gown. She’d never made such a bold move before, but courage and desire spurred her on. The sheer cotton slipped off her shoulders.

Jonah inhaled sharply. His eyes widened a fraction.

Her mother’s short, embarrassed explanation of what happened between men and women hadn’t included the need burning through her. She’d never guessed such feelings would be involved.

Callused fingers pushed the gown farther down her shoulders, leaving most of her breasts exposed. Bridgit didn’t protest as they were freed. Her hands explored the firm ridges of his chest and stomach.

His powerful arms flexed as he cupped her breasts. The touch she’d longed for brought the sensitive flesh to life. Her nipples hardened under his thumbs, spreading the delicious ache straight to her belly.

Dipping his head, he traced a hot circle around her nipple with his tongue. She bit her lip, stifling the cry that exploded from her throat. The mysterious place between her legs went damp at his ministrations. With a gentle nip, he abandoned the right breast for the left. The gown gathered at her hips and Jonah tugged until it puddled around her feet.

A whimper of protest left her when he straightened. Surely tonight he wouldn’t turn her away, wouldn’t change his mind like last time. Not when the air was filled with want and the need for satisfaction.

The loose trousers slipped down his hips. He slid the material down his muscular thighs. His manhood rose proud and thick against a nest of hair. She was grateful the low light couldn’t reveal the color flooding her face.

Bridgit had seen her younger brothers naked plenty of times. However, this was a man, a well-formed one, if she was any judge. It seemed a shame to cover him with clothes. Muscles flexed and bulged when he moved. He was breathtaking. A dark Adonis swathed in shadows and moonbeams.

She closed her eyes as his fingers brushed skin that hadn’t experienced the touch of a man. It wasn’t frightening. All her life she’d been called pretty and pleasant to look at. The creature Jonah awakened knew it was true.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She obeyed. The lusty temptress in her returned his gaze. He lowered her to the bed, leaning over her as his fingers stroked her flat stomach. They traveled to the mound covered by hair.

Soft strokes over her folds warmed her flesh. She opened with little persuasion. He gently explored the crevices of her most private places. One finger slipped down to probe her moist opening. It entered with a slow, deliberate stroke, drew back and plunged deeper. The caress made her body sing. Her hips moved as he caressed her. An involuntary moan of desire left her throat. His mouth found her breast and his tongue teased her nipple again. She pushed her fingers through his thick hair none too gently as his finger glided in and out.

The Earth shattered when he touched the delicate nub of flesh she’d largely ignored her whole life. Slow, torturous circles made her cry out. A shudder of pleasure ran down her spine as he quickened the pace. When she thought she’d die of the pleasure, he rose over her and urged her legs wider. The hard rod slipped inside her wetness, pushing deep inside her.

She bit her lip, determined not to cry out at the pain. Her fingernails scored his shoulders.

He froze, meeting her eyes. “A virgin.”

She nodded, afraid he’d retreat again, shifted beneath him, adjusting to his size.

“You’re so tight,” he murmured, “I’ve hurt you.”

“Please don’t leave. I want this. Want you.”

She gripped his shoulders. As though he hadn’t realized his error, he moved. The wonderful ache that filled her before awakened again. Desperate for his kisses, she raised her head and sought his lips. Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled his pelvic bone against hers, inviting him deeper. His tongue probed her mouth, increasing the urgency. Bright, hot waves of pleasure engulfed her. Nothing would ever satisfy her as much as making love with this man.

He thrust against her hard and then with a tremor, released his seed. His weight vanished and he was beside her, gathering her close. Their bodies fit against each other comfortably. Bridgit felt secure for the first time in two years. The warmth of their lovemaking glowed through her. A nagging voice inside her head said she should feel shame, giving away her virginity like a harlot. She shoved it aside as Jonah splayed his hand over her abdomen.

“You might have mentioned you were a virgin.” His voice was low and gruff.

“Would it have mattered?” She feared he’d leave, his appetite satisfied. She wanted him to stay.

“It might have.”

“Too late now,” she answered, feeling the stickiness between her thighs.

He rubbed her stomach. Perhaps he felt no guilt. She didn’t expect him to love her, but she was relieved to know he desired her.

“It hurt you,” he pointed out.

“But it won’t next time.” If her mother was truthful. She had no reason to doubt her mother’s word.

“Would you have me come to you again?” His breath was warm against her neck, sending a shiver of delight through her.

“Aye.” There was nothing gained from lying.

“What will you tell your husband on your wedding night when the sheets are spotless?”

A question she would rather avoid. “No one expects a convict to come to the marriage bed an innocent.”

Deep down, she mourned the truth of her words. He’d awoken something in her, a wanton who feared she’d never find another man to bring her to the edge the way he did.

10

Virgins were meant to be tamed with pretty words of love, coaxed to the bed on wedding nights. Not taken in the heat of the moment and cast aside like an old plaything. He’d ruined that for her. Bridgit curled in Jonah’s arms like an innocent child, her breath slow and steady.

Her hair tickled his chest, soft as flower petals. She smelled like a rose in full bloom. The floral scent mingled with the musty smell of sex. The cotton sheet slipped below her breasts, conforming along the dip and swell of her hip. Looking at her, Jonah hardened again, though he wouldn’t wake her with his wanting. Taking in her pale beauty was enough for now.

He was pleased she’d been responsive. She didn’t shy away or cry about the pain. But she never complained about anything. A rare find, this Irish flower. His intentions to keep his distance had fallen into ruin. Still he couldn’t figure out why. He’d never bedded Polly, the former maid. Something was different about Bridgit.

He needed to leave well before the sun rose. Staying in her bed would cause too many complications. He knew her, the whole sad story of her life, the feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingers, the way her body fit against his. The relationship didn’t need the complication of emotional attachments. He couldn’t afford the price of a woman in his bed.

“Sleep well, Bridgit.”

As he slipped out of bed, she protested with a little moan. For a second, his fingers lingered on her face, then brushed across her lips. She slept on.

The success of Laurie Lark depended on his focus and dedication. Not on a convict who captivated him with her beauty inside and out.

* * * *

Before she opened her eyes, Bridgit sensed Jonah’s absence. She hadn’t expected him to stay, not the entire night. The lord and master of Laurie Lark likely had more important things to tend than the woman who’d beckoned him to her bed.

A strange soreness gripped her nether regions, but she hoped a day’s work would ease her discomfort. She scooted to the edge of the bed, clutching the sheet against her chest. Jonah’s scent clung to the fabric, lingering like a pleasant dream.

She’d given him permission to return any night he liked. Heat warmed her face, but she wasn’t sorry. It would get better–she’d become bolder. Each time would be a slice of pleasure. Memories to keep her company during the lonely nights that would come when she returned to the Factory.

Dread replaced the pleased glow coursing through her. What would happen when he secured a permanent nurse for Olivia? The future looked bleak without Jonah and Olivia Andrus.

She rose and stared at the rusty stain spotting the bed sheets. Virginal blood. Saints, what would Farjana say when she saw it? She tore the sheet off the bed, stuffing it between the mattress and bed frame. After dressing with haste, she drew out clean bedclothes from the linen closet. No one needed to know of her nightly escapades.

The bed looked unnatural as she straightened the covers and stepped away. Perhaps it was her eyes. She’d lie and let Farjana think she’d already placed her sheets in the laundry pile for the week. Satisfied with her work, she heard Olivia stirring. Her charge was ready to begin the day.

Jonah sat at the breakfast table, eating a fried egg with surgical precision. He glanced up at Bridgit’s entrance and returned to his meal.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Morning,” he answered.

He seemed fascinated with his breakfast.

“Is Martha out feeding the jackaroos?”

His eyes stayed trained on the eggs. “She didn’t come today. Millicent’s here instead.”

“Millicent?”

Jonah lifted his teacup. “Her daughter.”