Twice Loved (copy2) (25 page)

Unceremoniously, she took up his left foot, working assiduously at tugging the boot off. But her efforts proved futile. He couldn’t help smiling as her face contorted with a grimace.

“Why do you wear ... your ... boots ... so ... tight?” She grunted. “They never ... used to be.”

“They’re new.” He enjoyed every minute of her struggle, then she changed positions and his smile grew broader at the sight of her pink soles facing him, one on each side of his long leg.

“Laura, y’ should see y’rself, sittin’ there in nothin’ but those ruffly pantaloons, pullin’ at my boot like some hoyden.”

“It ... won’t ... come ...” But just then the boot slipped off, nearly tumbling her backward. She laughed into his eyes and threw the boot over her shoulder, then ran her hands up inside the leg of his breeches to peel away his woolen sock.

“Did I make this?” she asked, holding the stocking aloft.

“No, another woman did.”

“Another woman?” Her eyebrows puckered.

His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Aye, m’ mother. An old pair I found in a chest at home.”

“Oh.” Laura’s smile was reborn as the sock sailed away, and she made quick work of the second boot and sock, which soon joined the others.

In a swift movement, Rye came up off the ground, tackling Laura with an arm around her waist, rolling her over and over on the grass until her hair was tumbled and her breasts heaved. Sprawled across the length of her body, he looked down into brown, eager eyes and a mouth across which a strand of hair had fallen during their tussle. His mouth slammed down across hers, heedless of the lock of hair, opening fully in a wild, voluptuous exchange of tongues while his left hand clamped the back of her head and his right kneaded a breast almost hurtfully. His knee came up hard between her legs and their bodies writhed together in reckless thrusts while they rolled to their sides, kissing with an unleashed ardor in which gentleness, for the moment, had no part.

Her fingers twisted in his hair and her eyelids shut out the blue sky background as he tore his mouth from hers and opened it on the breast, which he cupped high and hard, sending a sweet pain through her as she rejoiced, “Oh, Rye, Rye, is it really you at last?”

“Aye, it’s me, with five years t’ make up for.” But his breath wheezed like a high wind and his chest heaved torturously as his blue eyes burned into her brown ones. Then suddenly she was released, and he sat up abruptly, straddling her hips as his hands roughly began jerking open the buttons of his breeches while his eyes blazed with the unmistakable fire of intent. Her own blazed an answer as she freed the single button at her side. Their eyes did not waver while he sat her straight and tall, like a rider in a saddle, then a moment later dismounted, swinging a knee back and pulling her to her feet all in one fluid motion.

Trousers and pantaloons drifted to the ground and a moment later they faced each other with but the distance of a glance between them, nature’s children, dressed in no more than a whale’s tooth and a criss-crossing of red lines, which even now were fading from her skin. Their eyes feasted for a brief time as they stood naked beneath a blue bowl of sunshine, surrounded by salt-scented grass and a wreath of grapevines.

When Laura and Rye’s arms went about each other, the force nearly knocked the breath from their bodies. She felt her toes leaving the ground while he held her aloft, kissing her mouth, turning in a circle of ecstasy. Then she was struggling, squirming.

“Rye, put me down so I can touch you.”

“You touch me, and I’m gone,” he declared roughly. “Christ, it’s been five years.”

“Aye, love, I know. For me, too.” His eyes pierced hers with a question, and she immediately realized she should not have admitted it. “Rye—” Her voice trembled, “—put me down ... love me ... love me ...”

The trees tipped sideways as his hard brown arm slipped behind her knees to lift her, and a moment later Laura’s shoulders were pressed to the grass. She looked at his face, framed by blue sky, then at his nodding tumescence, for which she immediately reached, then guided home .... He was solid velvet, she liquid, and his first thrust brought to Laura a bursting sensation of desire which this act had not brought since she’d last celebrated it with Rye. And then the beat began, rhythmic and fluent. And they ceased to be him and her and became simply them—one.

They arched together beneath the summer sun, which rained on his back as he moved, sending hovering shadow across her face and shoulders. The whale’s tooth dangled across her breastbone to the hollow of her throat, then took up a pendulous tapping on her chin.

She lifted herself in reception to each thrust, watching Rye’s pleasured face while he bared his teeth and sucked in great shuddering gulps of air. He hung his head to watch their bodies mingling, and her eyes followed. When his beat accelerated, the grass bit into her shoulders and her head was pressed back harder onto the earth. She closed her eyes and rode the swells with him, while his body beckoned her response. It built and it burned until the inward embraces began, forcing a throaty cry from her lips. He grunted as his climax neared, coming against her so hard she skittered beneath him along the earth, then unknowingly closed her fingers around the grass for a handhold.

She welcomed every inch of the force as her body quivered to its completion. His cry carried over the meadow as he spilled into her, and the final shudder sent sparkling beads of perspiration glinting on his shoulder.

He fell across her breasts, exhausted, and lay there panting until he felt silent laughter lifting her chest. He raised his weary head to meet her eyes. “Look what we’ve done.” She rolled her head to peer past his shoulder and along her hip.

He craned around to find in her hand a fistful of turf, pulled up by its roots. He smiled and checked her other hand. It, too, was clasping a clump of grass. Suddenly, she lifted both hands high off the ground and let the clods tumble from her fingers in a kind of jubilation, then flung her arms tightly about his shoulders. He rolled them to their sides, one hand reaching to brush off her palm.

“Was I too rough with y’?”

She smiled tenderly into his eyes. “No, oh no, love. I needed it just as it was.”

“Laura ..." He cradled her gently, closing his eyelids against her hair. “I love y’, woman, I love y’.”

“I love you, Rye Dalton, just as I’ve loved you since I first knew what the word meant.”

They lay together with their heartbeats joined, letting the sun dry their skin. After several minutes, he rolled back his shoulder and flung an arm out, palm up. She did likewise, and they closed their eyes as they basked and rested. She lay on his left and with her right hand reached lazily to idle through the hair on his chest. Blindly, he reached for it and brought the fingertips to his lips before replacing it on his chest.

“Laura?”

“Hm?”

“What did y’ mean before when y’ said it’d been five years for y’?”

For a moment she didn’t answer, but finally replied, “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said it.”

He studied the sky, where a single white cloud drifted. “Dan doesn’t take you all the way, does he?”

Immediately, she rolled near and covered his lips with her fingertips. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

He braced his jaw on a palm and lay on his side facing her. “That’s what y’ meant, isn’t it?” He trailed the tip of a finger down between her breasts to her belly, and on to the nest of hair that held the warmth of the sun in its tangles, the warmth of him in its shelter. He watched goose pimples ride her skin, though her eyes were closed. He pressed the brown triangle. “This is mine. It’s always been mine, and the thought of him havin’ it has kept me miserable every night that I’ve slept alone since I’ve been home. At least he didn’t have it all.” He kissed her chin lightly. “I’m glad.”

Her eyes opened to his. “Rye, I had no right to say it. I sh-”

His lips cut off her words. Then he lifted his head and stroked her jaw with a knuckle. “Laura, I taught you, you taught me. Learnin’ together gave us rights.”

But she didn’t want to mar the day with any talk that might rob them of the smallest slip of joy. Brightly, she smiled, then studied his face, from hairline to chin. “Do you know what I’ve been wanting to do ever since you’ve been back?”

“I thought y’ just did it.” The dent appeared in his cheek. “No, not that.”

“What, then?”

“To explore each of these tiny pockmarks with the tip of my tongue, and to touch these—” she pressed both palms against his side-whiskers. “—like this.”

With a smile, he fell onto his back, flipping her over on top of him. “Explore all y’ like.”

She wet each tiny mark, ending with the seventh, on his upper lip. Raising her head, she smoothed her palms over the side-whiskers, studying him, delight in her face. “I like these, do you know that? They’re ... very masculine. When I first saw you, they made you seem ... well, almost like a stranger, somebody enticing but forbidden.”

He lazily caressed her hipbones, then moved his hands down over her bare buttocks. “And do I still seem like a stranger?” he asked, grinning up at her.

“You’re different in some ways.” She flipped his lower lip down with an index finger, and let it slip closed again.

“How?”

“The way you stand, like the ship is going to yaw at any minute. And the way you talk. You used to talk just like I do, but now you say aye and nay and cut off the ends of words.” She pouted and pondered. “Say, ‘Laura darling.’ ”

“Laura darlin’,” he repeated obediently.

“See? Laura, darlinnn ...” She giggled, and he, too, laughed.

“Well, y’ are my Laura darlin’,” he said.

But she laughed again. “I fear it’s there to stay, but it’s charming, so I don’t mind.”

He gave her an affectionate slap on the rump. “Are y’ hungry?”

“There y’ go again, m’ briny lad,” she answered in her best imitation of a New England tar. “Aye, I’m rav’nous!”

He laughed, white teeth flashing in the sun, slapped her again, and demanded, “Then get up off me. I’ve brought food.”

The next minute she was dumped away, and sat Indian-fashion while he strode off to where Ship lay guarding the drawstring bag. She watched the strong muscles of Rye’s buttocks and thighs flexing as he crossed the clearing to retrieve his cache. The dog immediately sat up, alert. Rye went down on one knee, giving Ship a scratch and a muffled assurance of her master’s affection. Then the two of them came back together with the bag of food.

Laura watched them, and as they drew near, raised up on her knees to greet Rye as if he’d been gone a long time. “Come here.” She held her arms open and he walked flush against her. She pressed her face against his lower belly, then against his flaccid manhood before backing away and looking up at his face, which was bent to watch her smilingly. “You’re a beautiful man. I could watch you walk naked across the grass forever and never turn my eyes away.” He touched her face. “I love you, Rye Dalton.” Her arms tightened about his hips. His blue eyes smiled down at her with a fulfillment he hadn’t known since his return.

“I love you, Laura Dalton.”

Ship’s cold, wet nose divided them as she thrust it against Laura’s bare side. Laura jumped back, scolding and laughing.

Rye laughed and dropped to the grass with a rough, affectionate graze of his palm on the dog’s head. “She’s jealous.”

Laura watched as he worked the bag open. “What do you have?” she asked.

His hand plunged inside. “Oranges!” Up flew an orange, high above her head. She caught it with a lilt of laughter. “For the lady who likes to share oranges with gentlemen in a most enticing way.” His teasing grin brought a smirk to her lips.

“Oh, oranges. Perhaps you should have invited DeLaine Hussey today. I have the feeling Miss Hussey has wanted to get her hands on your oranges for years. ”

“I only share my oranges with you.” The dimple in his cheek was thoroughly engaging as he raised his eyes. Then it grew even deeper when he looked up to find her sitting back on her heels, breasts thrust forward and hidden impudently behind a pair of concealing oranges.

“And I only share my oranges with you,” she returned innocently.

His wide brown hands came up to squeeze the fruit. “Mmm ... you have nice, ripe, firm oranges. I’d love sharing them.” He dipped his head as if to sample with his teeth, but with one orange she rapped his cheek aside.

“Where are your manners, Rye Dalton! You have to ask politely first.”

He lunged at her then, knocking her backward in the grass, their laughter carrying over the meadow while Ship watched their antics with a lazy eye.

“I’ll show y’ the proper way t’ share an orange, y’ little minx!”

In their tussle one of the oranges went rolling, but he captured the other, subduing Laura finally until she ended up on her back, and he knelt over her with one powerful and well-placed knee pressing hard against her ribcage.

She pushed at it, laughing with utmost difficulty. “Rye, I can’t breathe.”

“Good.” He ripped off a piece of orange peel. It landed on her cheek, and she twisted her head aside, laughing harder. “First y’ have t’ peel the orange just so.” Another piece of peel fell to her closed eye.

“Rye Dalton, you overgrown bully!”

“But only halfway, so y’ have somethin’ t’ hang on to.”

Plop! This piece hit her on the nose, which she wrinkled as she pushed at his knee. “Get off ...”

He ignored her plea, letting her squirm away while calmly completing his chore. “And when y’ have the juiciest part exposed ...” The conquerer let another chunk of peel hit the vanquished on her upper lip. “.... you’re ready t’ share y’r orange.”

She was still pushing at his knee with her hands, but she bit her lip to keep from smiling. Lordly and lean, he held her down and kept his blue eyes on her mouth as he lifted the orange and sank his teeth into it. While he chewed, his lips all wet and sweet, she grew increasingly aware of his bold pose that left bare essentials hovering just above her. He tore into a second bite and lazily savored it, then swallowed.

“Y’ want some?” he asked, arching a brow at her.