The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories (18 page)

Obviously he didn't want any passion between them. When he had made her that promise, she had thought that he was doing it for her sake, so that she would feel at ease until she got to know him better. Now she began to wonder if he had not meant it for his sake, as well. Perhaps Jesse had no interest in making love to her, now or ever. Maybe he found her uninteresting. Unattractive.

But if that was true, Amy couldn't understand why he had kissed her. She had leaned over to hug him in her enthusiasm, but Jesse had kissed her. He had pulled her right out of her chair and onto his lap. She remembered the sound of his labored breathing, the searing touch of his skin.
Surely those things betokened desire, not indifference.
He had wanted her. She didn't think she could be that wrong about what had transpired.

She tried to remember exactly when he had broken off their kiss. It had been when she squirmed in his lap, restlessly seeking satisfaction for the fiery ache within her, and her hands clamped onto his shoulders.

Amy frowned, thinking. Jesse had stopped when she responded to him, not just letting him take her lips, but actively urging him on with her body. She remembered her mother talking once about Mabel Holloway and how she was always chasing the boys. “Men don't like an aggressive female,” Mrs. McAlister had declared, casting an
admonishing eye toward Corinne. “You mark my words. She'll have trouble ever getting a husband. I heard she went out in the garden alone with Henry Smithson at the Patterson dance last month—and was gone for ten minutes. Well, she'll get a reputation acting that way, I can tell you.”

And even Corinne, who had grimaced at her mother's remark, had once said something similar to her. “Men like a chase,” Corinne had told her, explaining why she had turned down Geoffrey Ames for a dance, even though she had one open on her dance card. “You can't let a fellow know that you like him, or he loses interest.”

It had sounded rather strange to Amy at the time, for it seemed to her that a man ought to be pleased and reassured to know that a woman he was interested in was interested in him, too. But now, thinking about the way Jesse had just acted, she wondered if Corinne and her mother were right. Maybe men didn't want a woman to be too eager.

It was obviously terribly important to a man that a woman be pure; that was why her driving out with Charles that night had ruined her. Perhaps a man even wanted his wife to be so pure-minded that she did not want to touch him or to rub herself against him as Amy had just done.

Jesse must have been appalled at her wantonness. That was why there had been disgust in his eyes. He had thought her too bold, too forward. Maybe he even thought she would respond like that to any man. After all, only a few weeks ago, she had driven out with Charles Whitaker at night, which no lady should have done. Jesse might think that she had acted the same way with Charles as she had with him. He wouldn't know that she had never felt for Charles Whitaker the kind of passion she felt for him. Jesse couldn't know how much she loved him.

Amy sat bolt upright.
Where had that thought come from? She loved Jesse Tyler?

But of course, she realized, a tiny smile playing at her lips. It was obvious: she loved him. She had probably loved him for a long time and not realized it. Love was not the silly infatuation she had had for Charles Whitaker for a time. That had simply been her overactive imagination. Love was the emotion inside her now, this sweet, aching yearning. Love was wanting to be around Jesse all the time. It was enjoying talking to him and laughing with him. It was the quiet, certain knowledge of Jesse and what he would do, the faith and trust she had in him.

She wasn't sure when it had happened, if love for Jesse had grown from being married to him or if it had been inside her earlier, hidden and waiting to reveal itself. The important thing was that she did love him.

Amy slid off the bed, about to run out and find Jesse and tell him. She would explain that she loved him, that she wanted to be a real wife to him, that she had never really loved Charles Whitaker.

But she stopped herself before she reached the front door. There was that boldness again, that impulsiveness that always got her into trouble. She seemed to have difficulty acting in a proper, maidenly way. However, this time she had to make herself do what she should. Jesse and her marriage were too important for her to make a mistake.

Amy turned and walked back into the bedroom and sat down once again on her bed to think. She realized that she should not boldly announce her love and her intention to have a real marriage. For one thing, Jesse would no doubt be appalled at this further demonstration of her forwardness. Secondly, he did not return her love. He had married her merely to pay back the debt of gratitude that he owed her and her father. Therefore, Amy realized, she
must conceal her own feelings, while at the same time getting Jesse to fall in love with her. For him to feel right about it, he must pursue her.

She almost started crying at that thought. It seemed hopeless. She had never been the kind of girl men fell in love with. Jesse probably thought of her as a sort of sister.

Well, perhaps not exactly as a sister.
A wicked grin touched her lips. He hadn't kissed her as if she were his sister tonight. He did feel desire for her. She could not be mistaken about that. What she needed to do was to entice and attract him, to encourage that passion, so that he would start to kiss her again and want to share her bed. Then, surely, when they were truly husband and wife, he would grow to love her.

The trick, she knew, would be in enticing him without appearing bold or sluttish. Her actions must appear entirely innocent. It seemed impossible. But Amy was a smart girl with a fertile imagination, and as she got undressed and crawled into bed to go to sleep, her brain was buzzing with schemes.

She embarked on her plan first thing the next morning. First, she knew, she must follow her sister's advice and look as alluring as she could. She spent much more time than usual over her hair, finally getting it pinned into a full, soft style that flattered her face. Next she pulled out one of the new dresses that Corinne had insisted enhanced her coloring. The final touch was a spot of rose water behind her ears and on her wrists. Then she walked out of the little bedroom to face Jesse, her color high with excitement.

Jesse was putting wood in the new stove, and he swiveled around at the sound of her approach. His expression was uncertain, and he wiped his hands down his trouser legs nervously. “Amy.”

Amy smiled brilliantly at him. “Hello, Jesse.”

Jesse blinked in surprise, but he smiled back and returned to laying the fire. Amy walked over to the stove and bent down beside him to peer into the firebox. He glanced at her, his eyes traveling over her body, then hastily turned back to finish his job.

Over the next few days, Amy did her best to subtly entice her husband. Every evening as they worked together on Jesse's reading, she leaned close to him on the pretext of looking at his book. When she refilled his glass at dinner, she made sure her hand or arm brushed his. Once, in the evening, she came out of the bedroom pretending to remember that she had to tell Jesse something. She was careful to forget her dressing gown, so that she was clad only in her lace-trimmed white nightgown. Of course, it was hardly revealing, being high-necked and long-sleeved and made of cotton, but at least it flowed down along the lines of her body, without all the petticoats and undergarments that a lady wore under her dresses.

Seeing the way Jesse's eyes flickered down her body and the way he rose from his bed on the floor, almost as if drawn up by force, Amy was certain that her attire had had the effect she desired. She deliberately walked up to him, gazing into his face. He reached out to touch her hair, which was flowing loosely over her shoulders, then snatched his hand back and clasped his hands behind his back. Amy could almost feel the heat from his body, and she could see the tension in his face, the involuntary slackening of his lips, and a triumphant satisfaction rose up in her. Her doubts were resolved. She had been right; he
did
want her, no matter how much he tried to hide or deny it.

After that night, she had the courage to take her sensual teasing to a new level. In the past she had waited modestly each evening for Jesse to make his nightly trip
around the yard before she went into her bedroom area and undressed. But the next night, instead of waiting for him to leave, she bid him a pleasant good-night, picked up her kerosene lamp and sailed into the bedroom, leaving Jesse gazing after her.

She set the lamp down on the night table and began to unpin her hair. Though the sheets hung around the room ostensibly gave her privacy, Amy was aware that with the light of her lamp behind them, the sheets were almost transparent. Though the image would not be clear, Jesse would be able to see her every move. She brushed out her hair and began to undress, her ears cocked for the sound of the front door opening and closing. It didn't come, and Amy smiled to herself, knowing that Jesse must be watching her.

It was embarrassing to know that he could see her pull off her skirt and blouse, then her undergarments, until finally she was completely nude, and she blushed as she did it. But it was exciting at the same time, and she felt a delicious thrill at the thought of Jesse watching her.

However, much to her disappointment, it seemed as though all her efforts were doomed to failure. Jesse did not try to kiss her, did not even make a move toward her. If anything, he began to avoid her company. Amy suspected that if not for their lessons, she would hardly have seen him at all. Sadly she began to wonder if, instead of luring him into loving her, she was actually driving him away!

She would give it a few more days, she thought, and then, if Jesse still had made no move toward her, she would give up and let things return to the way they had been.

J
ESSE DUNKED HIS HEAD
and chest under the pump spout outside. The water was bitterly cold, and he shivered, but he grimly continued to wash off. It helped to cool him down, which, heaven knew, he needed before he went into the house and saw Amy. The pain seemed an apt punishment for the sins he usually contemplated when he was with her.

Jesse wasn't sure how much longer he could last. It seemed as if nowadays all he could think about was making love to Amy. He knew it would be disastrous if he did, that he would be breaking every vow he had made to her, that he would be letting his lust destroy their marriage. But it was reaching the point where the need was so strong in him that he almost didn't care about the consequences, as long as he could finally satisfy the craving that was rampant in him.

Ever since that night when he had kissed her, his life had been a living hell of desire. He had managed to pull himself together then and get out, to quell the hunger that was raging in him, and he had sworn that after that he would keep a firmer hold over his passions. But no matter how hard he tried, the yearning in him only grew worse. Amy seemed prettier and more desirable every day. He knew it must be only his hunger that made it appear so, but everything Amy did now seemed full of sexual allure. Now it seemed as if she accidentally brushed against him frequently, as if she leaned in closer to look at his
schoolwork, tantalizingly warm and smelling of roses, as if when she smiled at him her eyes were warm with sensual promise.

Worst of all had been the one night she had gone into her bedroom to undress before he left the house. He had been surprised, but he supposed he must have been late in going, and she had gotten tired of waiting. He knew that she did not realize how her lamp turned the barrier of the white sheets translucent, making all her movements visible to him. She had undressed and put on her nightgown, and he had stood and watched. He had known guiltily that he should go, that he was invading her privacy, that he was only making his own situation more untenable. But he had been unable to tear himself away. Every night now he waited for her to go into the bedroom and innocently undress before his gaze. He hated himself for doing it, yet he could not make himself leave. Every night he vowed that this night would be different, but it never was. No matter how much he reviled himself for it inwardly, he could not walk out the door.

Shivering, Jesse blotted his chest and arms dry with a towel and pulled his shirt back on. He buttoned it quickly and grabbed his jacket from the hitching post, where he had hung it while he washed up. He cast a last look toward the barn. They had finished it days ago, and now the horses were safe inside its shelter. Every time Jesse looked at it, he was filled with pride.

He strode across the yard and into the house, bracing himself mentally against the desire that always flooded him when he saw his wife. Amy turned and smiled at him as he stepped inside. She was prettily flushed from the heat of the stove, and little tendrils of hair had escaped her bun and were curling softly around her face. Even knowing how he always reacted to her, Jesse was amazed by the desire that slammed into his gut.

They ate supper. Though Amy's meals were much improved since the arrival of the stove, Jesse hardly tasted his food. He was too aware of Amy's presence, desire already tightening his loins just from looking at her and listening to her voice.

Afterward they got out the books and worked at the table. Jesse tried to lose himself in the work, but he found it almost impossible to concentrate with the scent of Amy's perfume tickling his nostrils. She laid her hand on his arm while she explained a word to him, and his skin burned where she had touched it.

Finally they finished their lesson and Jesse put away the books. Amy picked up the kerosene lamp and turned to go into the bedroom area. Jesse watched her, knowing that he should leave. He stood up, but he did not move toward the door. His breathing accelerated, and his flesh tingled in anticipation. He gripped the back of his chair, his eyes remaining on Amy's form, visible through the sheets.

She set the lamp down on the nightstand and began to unpin her hair. Jesse's loins tightened. He knew what was coming, and that made it somehow even more exciting. Her hair tumbled down slowly. Then she picked up her brush and began to brush through it in long, even strokes. Watching her dark form, he could almost feel her hair sliding through the brush, could almost hear the crackle of electricity.

When she finally set down the brush, her fingers went to the buttons of her bodice, and she undid them slowly, then peeled the bodice off. She folded it neatly, put it away, and began on her skirt. Soon it drifted down over her hips and along her petticoats, pooling at last at her feet. Jesse watched as she bent to pick it up. He wished he could see her in detail, not just this dark figure against
the sheets. He wanted to see the tones of her skin, each individual feature of her face and body.

Slowly, one by one, she took off her petticoats. With each movement, Jesse's skin flamed hotter, until he felt as if he were on fire. His hands clenched tightly around the posts of the chair, his knuckles white with tension. Amy reached down and removed her shoes, then rolled down each stocking, her hands gliding along her legs. Jesse swallowed hard as her fingers went next to the ribbons of her chemise. She untied them and pulled the chemise off, and he could see the globes of her breasts swing free, high and firm, swaying with her movements. Heat flooded his loins, and his manhood swelled, pressing against his trousers.

Jesse wanted her so much he thought it might kill him. He could think of nothing but her, the beauty of her body and the sweet wonder of taking her. She untied her pantaloons and pulled them down, revealing her soft feminine shape entirely. Jesse was on fire, hard and throbbing. She reached for her nightgown. He began to walk to the bedroom.

He knew he should stop, should go back, but tonight he could not bring himself to listen to reason. He was drawn to her in a way that surpassed all reason, all thought. There was nothing in him right now but need. Jesse reached out his hand and took the edge of one sheet, pulling it aside.

Amy jumped, gasping, and instinctively jerked the nightgown in her hand up to her torso, partially concealing her nakedness. “Jesse!”

She stared at him, her eyes wide and startled, yet luminous. His eyes went down to her mouth, soft and pink, then farther down, to her bare shoulders and arms, above the nightgown crumpled to her chest. Her skin was just as satiny as he had known it would be, a lovely creamy
white. His eyes moved down the line of her hips and legs. She was perfectly formed.

Hunger pulsed in him. He wanted to snatch away the gown and reveal all her body to him. He wanted to lay her down on the bed and crawl on top of her, to sink into her delicious softness.

“Oh, God, Amy…” He closed his eyes. He thought he might explode. “Please…I want you.”

Amy stared at Jesse's tortured face. Her heart twisted within her. As much as she wanted him, as much as she had tried to get him to desire her, she had never intended that he feel the kind of pain that was in his eyes now.

“Jesse.” Tears clogged her voice. She didn't know what to say. It occurred to her that she had done nothing but bring misery to this man whom she loved so much.

“I'm sorry,” he went on hoarsely. “I know I promised you, and I meant it. I— But, Lord, when I see you, I—I don't think I can keep from making love to you.”

Amy forgot about concealing her boldness, about pretending that she did not feel the wanton desire that blossomed inside her. She could not think about the consequences, or about how Jesse's feelings for her might change if he knew how she really felt. All she could see was Jesse and his anguish. All she could think of was easing it.

“Then don't try to,” she said, dropping her nightgown to the floor.

Jesse blinked, unable to believe his ears or eyes. He stared at Amy's naked body—slender and feminine, inviting. Blood roared in his head and coursed through his body.
Amy was giving herself to him.

He started toward her. He half expected her to back away from him or blurt out that she didn't mean it or even suddenly run away. But she did not. She simply stood, watching him with wide eyes.

There was something a little frightening about Jesse, Amy thought. Power and heat radiated from him intimidatingly, and there was something more—a wildness barely held in check. But that very wildness was exciting, too. It was a heady feeling to know that she had the ability to arouse him to such overwhelming desire.

Jesse stopped only inches from her. Carefully he put his hands on her shoulders. His fingers seared her skin. He gazed down into her eyes, his face taut, his eyes blazing bright green. Slowly he bent and sealed her mouth with his. Heat flamed up instantly in Amy, and she moved into him, her arms going around his waist. It was strange and rather titillating to feel his clothes against her naked flesh. Amy moved against him, provoking a deep groan from Jesse, and her nipples hardened as they rubbed against the cloth of his shirt.

His kiss was hungry and deep, and his hands slid over Amy's body, as though he wanted to touch her everywhere at once. His tongue plunged deep into her mouth, and his fingers dug into her buttocks, lifting her up into him. The denim cloth of his trousers was rough upon her skin, and under it she could feel the hard insistence of his desire. She shivered, trembling with need for him.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, releasing her. “You're cold.” He pulled down the bedspread and picked her up and settled her in the deep feather mattress. He reached down and jerked off his boots, then began to unbutton his shirt.

Amy was a trifle chilled, but she didn't pull the cover up over her. She liked the way Jesse gazed at her all the time he was undressing, as if he could not get his fill of looking at her body. He peeled his shirt back off his shoulders and down his arms; when it stuck at the still-buttoned cuffs, he swore and yanked at it. Amy heard the buttons pop off and bounce across the floor. He unfastened his
belt buckle and started on the metal buttons of his trousers, but then he broke off, as if he could not hold back a moment longer, and bent to kiss her thoroughly, his hands plunging into her hair. He pulled away and continued to undress, his eyes eating her up all the while.

Finally he finished and stood naked in front of her. Amy gazed at him in love and wonder. He was lean and ridged with muscle, his skin smooth and tanned. Amy longed to reach out and run her hand along the washboardlike expanse of ribs and muscles. It was like satin laid over rock. Her eyes drifted lower, to his flat abdomen and the naked, thrusting maleness riding between his legs. She drew in a shuddering breath.

“Oh, Jesse, how can—? Do you think it'll work?”

Her naive remark drew a chuckle from him, despite the passion now tearing at his vitals. He climbed into the bed and lay down beside her, saying, “I'm not sure, sweetheart. I've never actually tried it. But I presume it must, given all the children that are produced.”

“Do you mean—?” Amy sat up, amazement stamped on her face, and she gazed down intently into his face. “Are you saying that you've never—?”

He shook his head, smiling faintly. “No. Disappointed?”

“No! I—” She began to smile. “It's rather nice, actually, to know that you haven't—that no other woman has…well, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” He stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “I feel the same about you.”

“It's just, well, I suppose it would be better if one of us knew what they were doing.”

His grin grew broader, and he curved his hand around her neck, pulling her down toward him. “I think we'll muddle through well enough.”

Amy melted into him, delighting in the feel of his
naked chest against hers. Their mouths met and clung, and the heat that had abated slightly while Jesse undressed flared up with renewed force. Jesse rolled over, taking Amy under him. They kissed deeply, tongues entwining.

Jesse pulled his mouth free and rained kisses over her face and down her neck, murmuring, “Sweet, so sweet. I'm glad I have never lain with another woman. I want to learn every pleasure with you. I want every flicker of your desire to be for me.”

“It is,” she assured him, her hands sweeping down his back and buttocks onto his hair-roughened thighs.

His mouth moved lower, onto the soft curve of her breast, and Amy drew in her breath sharply.

His head came up, and he frowned in concern. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! Oh, no. Please…keep on.”

She moved a little beneath him, urging him on, and he quickly returned to what he had been doing. His mouth trailed across her breast, and his hand came up to cup it. Her nipple hardened at the soft, moist touch of his mouth, and Jesse stroked his thumb across the little bud, watching in fascination as it tightened even more. He teased the nipple with his thumb and forefinger, gently squeezing and caressing it until Amy's breath was ragged and she was rolling her head restlessly from side to side, eyes closed against the sweet, almost painful pleasure. Jesse looked at her face, drinking in the passion there, and then, at last, he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth. Amy let out a shuddering moan as he began to suck, enveloping her sensitive nipple with moist heat as his mouth pulled gently at it.

Amy had never experienced anything like the hot tremors of sensation that ran through her now. Passion blossomed in her abdomen, turning it waxen and heavy.
Heat throbbed between her legs, where she suddenly, embarrassingly, flooded with moisture. She clamped her legs together to ease the sensation, but it wasn't enough; it wasn't what she wanted.

But Jesse seemed to know exactly what she wanted. His hand slid down her smooth stomach and abdomen and into the tangle of curls there. His movement startled her, but she reacted instinctively, opening her legs. His finger slipped down between her legs, delving into the slick, satiny folds of flesh. Amy groaned and moved her legs restlessly.