Unspoken Love

UNSPOKEN LOVE

LYNN GALE

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

UNSPOKEN LOVE

Copyright©2014

LYNN GALE

Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-
454-8

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

To my precious family.  

I love you all.

Acknowledgements

Sending a special thank you to Debby Gilbert, my Soul Mate Publishing editor, and to Tammie for her help and suggestions.

Chapter 1

Mississippi 1850

At the Hearthside Inn, Jennifer Morgan ambled down the corridor to her room and hashed over the day’s events. The town had been in chaos since the devastating storm hit and she’d spent the whole day helping Doc Jones tend to patients. Now, she just wanted to rest.

She stepped into her room and closed the door. Too tired to light the lamp, she stripped down to her undergarments then freed her long raven hair from the scarlet ribbon. Exhausted, she sank onto the bed. Her heart began to pound as a man’s overpowering strength drew her against his chest. She opened her mouth in protest, but the words froze on her lips. She swung at him and missed. His fingers wrapped around her hair, and he brought her face upward to give her a long drawn-out kiss on the lips.

The shock of their untimely meeting wore off, and she slapped his hand aside. This time words spew from her mouth. “Let me go!”

“You steal into my room, then refuse me the very thing you flaunt!” the stranger admonished.

“You’re not making sense!”

He attempted to capture her lips again. A muffled scream escaped her lips. Quick as lightening, his strong hand covered her mouth. “Quiet, you silly woman! You blatantly enticed me during dinner, and now, you want no part of me? Just what game are you playing, acting as if you are chaste?”

She shoved his hand away. “I’ve never slept with a man before. I didn’t entice you. I don’t even know you!”

He rolled from the bed and lit the lamp.

Jenny drew her breath in sharply as she gazed at his handsome face and virile, naked body. She touched her fingers to her lips to stifle a gasp and turned away from him, a rush of heat burning her cheeks from the sight of him. “Get dressed, and get out!”

A look of astonishment washed over her unexpected visitor. “I thought you were someone else,” he apologized, grabbing his pants off the chair and pulling them over his muscular hips.

“How dare you plan a rendezvous in my room?” Jenny chastised, raising her voice again. She faced him and stared wide-eyed, burning with shame at the intimate way he had touched her.

He pulled her body against his warm flesh, slivers of fire dancing in his eyes. “It’s nearly midnight. I don’t care to have the house down on me, and I’ll thank you to keep your voice low! I’m sorry. I’ve made a serious blunder. For the record, I didn’t invite a woman here for a tryst.” She attempted to free herself, but he held her back while he explained, “Clearly, the proprietor assigned us the same room, a big wrongdoing on his part.” He took a deep breath. “I know this is an awkward situation, but I am not a lecherous man. Again, I apologize for my boldness. Can we make a truce?”

“No! Leave at once!”

“Suit yourself,” he said, slipping on his shirt. A sparkle came into his devilish green eyes. His voice sounded deep and hypnotic to her. “Goodnight, Ma’am.”

Jenny felt her cheeks flush as she realized she had forgotten to cover herself. Clad in her undergarments, she snatched the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around her figure.

He moved toward the entrance.

Jenny raced him to the door. Her fingers closed over the doorknob, and she quietly inched the door open to prevent the rusty hinges from creaking and waking other patrons. Ushering him into the hallway, she watched the stranger saunter down the corridor then turned to close the door. A gasp escaped her as she came face to face with Bonita, her Aunt Thelma’s servant. Bonita gossiped over the least thing. What would she do if Bonita claimed that a man had been in her room, with her undressed no less! Speechless, she closed the door, tears of embarrassment spilling down her cheeks.

Nicholas Grant ambled down the corridor, his thoughts on the woman he had just left and their accidental meeting. Bonita sashayed up to him. Her fulsome charms and seductive promise over dinner had led him to assume she had stolen into his chamber tonight, causing embarrassment to a lady he’d never met before and throwing him in a reprehensible predicament.

“I came to see you Mr. Grant, but you had another woman in your room.”

“I didn’t invite her—”

“A likely story!” she hissed. She softened toward him and, standing on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck. “Perhaps you will come to my quarters…”

Nicholas disengaged her arms and let them fall to her sides. “I think not, Bonita. I’ve had enough excitement for one evening. Goodnight.”

Nicholas walked away from her blatant seduction and bedded down in the crowded lobby. Folding his hands behind his head, he recalled the sensuous woman standing by the cot, her cheeks pink with embarrassment at their meeting. Even in her fury, he’d seen no woman lovelier than her. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He had nearly deflowered a lady! Clearly, she wasn’t a woman of ill repute. A long time passed before sleep claimed him.

In the tiny room at the end of the hall, tumultuous thoughts gripped Jenny as she blew out the lamp and crept into bed. She couldn’t forget the stranger who had almost ravished her tonight. She had nearly experienced what Molly warned her about. In the absence of a mother, Molly had seen to her upbringing and told her that women save themselves for marriage, and only trollops let men touch them in intimate places before they wed.

Shame washed over her as she thought of her dear father. He mustn’t know of this night. It could set his health back immensely. He had suffered a heart attack and was just beginning to mend. Besides, her father trusted her explicitly, and she feared he would not allow her free rein if he suspected that she was promiscuous. With any luck, she would never again have to face the man who had accosted her. Likely he was simply passing through town. Still, she felt a pang of guilt for her abrupt manner with the intruder, not that she wanted his advances, but she knew her Uncle Edward was partly to blame. The loveable man tended to be absent-minded more often than not and ran around in a frenzy most of the time. She was certain he had inadvertently given the man in question this room tonight. Her thoughts drifted back to Bonita.
What if she revealed that a man had been in her room?
Bonita was as two-faced as they came.

Finally, she slept, drifting in and out of dreams as she relived her encounter with the stranger. She could feel his bare flesh covering her and his lips capturing her mouth. His sensual touch ignited a strange and pleasant sensation within her as his strong fingers massaged her skin and moved along her curves, coming to rest on her hip. She jolted awake and realized she was alone. Moments later, she closed her eyes in slumber only to return to her troubled dreams.

Chapter 2

Jenny rose early and donned her shirt and breeches. With haste, she stuffed in her shirttail and stepped into sturdy shoes. She wasn’t dressed in attire befitting a young lady, but after convincing father and Molly that women’s clothing hampered her movements, they relented and let her wear boy’s garb just this one time. She grinned. If she had her way, she would wear the clothes again, given they were comfortable and not confining like ladies wear. She pulled back her long ebony hair and tied it loosely with a scarlet ribbon.

In the kitchen, she downed a hasty breakfast and glanced up to see Bonita watching her with blazing eyes.

“I know what you did last night,” Bonita taunted. “The town will not think you are so pure when they learn—”

“Stop this silly talk!” Jenny commanded. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know what I saw last night.”

The chair scraped against the floor as Jenny jumped up and stared into Bonita’s malicious eyes. Neither spoke. After some time, Jenny exhaled noisily. “Explaining anything to you is useless.” Avoiding a confrontation that would surely set tongues wagging, she fled the inn.

Shoving Bonita’s hateful words from her mind, Jenny pulled up to a little white church. Alighting from the wagon, she followed the others into the sanctuary and gazed about the crowded room. Injured patients lying in the front of the church waited for the doctor, while Preacher Williams praised the Lord that their church still stood amidst the ruin around them and gave thanks that no one had died in the terrible storm.

Billy, the town urchin, limped with a crutch under his arm. His eyes brightened when he saw her. “Hello, Jenny.”

Jenny ran her fingers through his tousled dark hair. “How’s my bright Billy?”

“I’m doing well,” Billy replied. “They need me to help with errands.” Gathering a stack of linen, he limped away and carried the supplies across the room.

Jenny moved to the back of the church where temporary kettles of hot water sat on an iron cooking stove. Tables positioned along the wall held mismatched dishes and utensils along with stacks of potatoes, carrots, and onions. The women hurried to make the food edible. Jenny grabbed a paring knife and chopped vegetables and tossed them into the boiling water then sprinkled seasoning in to enhance the meat and make it succulent. Soon the aroma of cooked food filled the room, stirring everyone’s appetite, and those who were able formed a line to await victuals.

Parson Williams ran his fingers though his thinning hair and greeted Jenny. “Praise be to the Lord that you’ve come back, Jennifer.” He gave her a grateful smile before rushing to another area of the church to pray over the wounded.

Doctor Jones approached her. “I need your help Jenny. Can you spare some time?”

“Certainly,” she replied.

Jenny followed him to the front of the church where patients lay upon makeshift pallets. He led her to a young man of twenty.

“Jeremy’s leg was crushed when he lost his footing and slid into the path of his horse,” he explained. Dropping to his knees, he examined Jeremy’s limb. Jeremy winced with pain. “The leg’s broken. I’ll have to set it.” He gave Jeremy a dose of laudanum to ease the pain then began his work.

Jenny gazed into Jeremy’s pain-filled blue eyes. Clutching his trembling hand, she spoke calmly to him. “It must hurt something awful Jeremy, but try to be brave,” she encouraged.

Jeremy endured the doctor’s probing fingers as he reset the fractured limb. Beads of sweat formed across his forehead as the pain intensified then, finally, the doctor strapped his leg onto a splint.

“It’s over,” Jenny kindly said. “Now get some sleep.”

“You have a soothing voice, Jenny,” the rotund doctor said as he moved on to the next patient. “I’m glad I chose you to assist me. Your beauty and charm can do what medicines cannot. Then, too, you’re not one to have the vapors, and you carry yourself well in times of distress,” he praised.

Jenny smiled. “You’ll give me a big head with talk like that.”

The hours sped by as she worked diligently alongside the doctor, cleaning wounds and bandaging the patients. Once she took a deep breath and stretched her arms over her head to give her tense muscles a rest.

“Step outside for a breath of fresh air, Jenny, lest I be treating you for exhaustion,” Doc Jones said.

“Perhaps for a moment,” she responded and ambled into the churchyard.

She leaned against an oak tree, its branches broken from the storm. Her gaze shifted to the destruction around her, and she remembered being at the farm when the storm struck. She had stood at the window watching the dark, threatening clouds close in. The smell of rain permeated the air, followed by rolling thunder and streaks of lightning. A torrential downpour ensued, and the wind howled with fury, rattling the windowpanes, uprooting trees, and sending them plummeting to the ground. Trees, jerked out by the roots, lay across the field, along with bent rows of waterlogged corn and wheat where disaster had struck. Still, she felt grateful that the farm had sustained minor damage compared to some whose homes were destroyed or those injured from debris and falling timber.

She saw Blake Preston riding toward her with a wagon full of timber. His smile was contagious as he quickly reined the horses to a stop and alighted. Friends since childhood, their relationship was steadfast. His towering height loomed over her as his amber eyes met hers.

“I should have known you would be here,” he said kindly. “It’s good to see you again, Jenny.”

Jenny glanced at the wagon filled with lumber and sent him a curious gaze.

“I’m bringing wood to repair the damaged homes,” Blake said. “In some areas, the storm demolished the buildings. Fortunately, my home was untouched. Was your farm spared from destruction?”

Jenny played with the ribbon in her hair. “Yes. Our house and buildings stand, but the crops are waterlogged and several trees damaged.”

“What about Thomas? Did he weather the storm without a relapse?”

“Yes, Father is fine. He’s still weak and needs lots of rest, but he is on the mend.” She forewent telling him that if Thomas were to die, besides giving her a broken heart, it would be a hardship on her to take care of the farm. But she would do whatever it took to keep the farm going.

Blake followed Jenny into the church and offered his condolences to those in need. He shoved some money in the preacher’s hand. “Use it however you see fit,” he said. His eyes fixed on Jenny. “I have to deliver the supplies. Will you walk with me to the door?”

“Certainly,” Jenny replied. Locking arms with her childhood friend, she accompanied him to the wagon. They spent a few minutes discussing the storm before she said, “I’ve dallied long enough and must hurry inside to help Doc Jones.”

Blake bent forward and kissed her cheek, expressing his appreciation and support. His golden hair glistened in the sun as his eyes lingered on hers. “Goodbye, Jenny,” he said, then climbed aboard the wagon.

As he made his departure, Jenny touched her fingers to the cheek that Blake had kissed. His unexpected gesture had left her in an awkward state, for she had little dealings with matters of the heart.

Sifting through her emotions, she started for the church. To her mortification, she slipped and tumbled into a mud puddle, face down. She felt a man’s strong arms lifting her up and bringing her to her feet. Her eyes remained closed as he dabbed at her smudged face with a handkerchief. “Thanks for coming to my aid,” she managed to utter and broke out laughing. “I have weathered a horrendous storm only to be bested by a mud puddle.”

“I was happy to oblige,” the man commented.

Jenny drew in her breath at the familiar sound of his voice, and her eyes flew open to gaze at her rescuer’s face. As their eyes locked, he sent her a captivating smile. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as his green eyes penetrated hers, and she reflected on their encounter last night. She shifted her weight to the other foot. Adding to her humiliation, she wondered if he’d seen Blake kiss her. She was at a loss for words as his eyes remained fastened on hers and knew she must be the first to look away. Yet he was so handsome. . . .

Dr. Jones came to the entrance of the church, breaking their fixed gaze. “I need you again, Jennifer.”

“I’ll be right there,” she called and watched him reenter the church. Feeling awkward in the man’s presence, she lowered her gaze and marched into the sanctuary.

Nicholas stood in front of the church, thinking of the intriguing lady who had just graced his presence. Covered in mud and dressed in boy’s clothing, she had stirred his senses. She had been able to do the same last night, even after her enraged outburst when she had ordered him out of her room. Shaking her from his mind, he continued with his mission. His hair blew gently in the breeze as his booted footsteps clamored along the wooden planks. Abruptly he stopped at a law office where a sign hanging on rusty hinges read:
Jason Walker, Attorney at
Law
. A note tacked to the door stated, “Closed until tomorrow due to water damage.”

Rather than return to
Small Timbers
, the plantation that he cherished, he moseyed to the Hearthside Inn to secure himself a room. A room for him only, he thought, recalling the mix-up last night and the lady’s wrath when he tried to have his way with her.

With time on his hands, he wandered outside to view the damage from the storm. As he gazed at the destruction, memories of his childhood suddenly plagued him. He dismissed his haunting thoughts as quickly as they came. Tomorrow he would call upon Jason Walker for the reading of his uncle’s will and then return to
Small Timbers
into which he poured his very soul. He rolled up his sleeves and, volunteering his services, began repairing the homes damaged from the storm.

The church was serving as a makeshift hospital. Jenny moved from one patient to another, dutifully following Doc Jones about the room. Filled with compassion, her heart went out to those in pain. Her sleeves became stained with blood as she cleaned and dressed the patient’s wounds.

Finally they had a moment to themselves. While Doc Jones drank a cup of coffee, Jenny tore pieces of linen into bandages. As she placed them neatly on the table, her mind drifted to the stranger she had met again today. She glanced up at the blue-eyed, dark-haired doctor.

“Do you know the gentlemen I was conversing with earlier?”

“Yep, that’s Nicholas Grant,” the kind doctor replied. “His uncle owned a plantation over near Leland but has since died. I suspect Nicholas is the sole owner. Far as I can make out, he rightly deserves it. He’s a good man. He must be in town to claim his inheritance. Nicholas rarely gets to Greenville since he does business by riverboat, transporting cotton and other commodities down river.”

Their conversation ended as they went back to administering aid to the injured, leaving Jenny still curious about the man she had encountered this afternoon.

Diligently, Nicholas unloaded lumber, his strapping form undeterred by the heavy material. He spent the remainder of the day repairing buildings. When dusk came and he could no longer see to work, he returned to the Inn. Dirty and famished, he envisioned eating a hearty dinner before retiring for the night.

An hour later, after a bath and a shave, he ventured into the dining hall.

Bonita tossed her coal-black hair over her shoulders and with hips swaying, carried a plate of steak and potatoes to his table. Her seductive gaze caught him off guard, and she blew him a sensual kiss before moving on to serve other guests.

He washed the generous portions down with strong black coffee. Sated, he leaned back in the chair and stretched his long legs.

Bonita returned to clear away the dishes. Brushing her well-endowed bosom against his shoulder, her sultry eyes appraised him. “Can we meet tonight, Nicholas?”

Nicholas took in her shapely curves and long black hair secured at the nape. For a fleeting moment, he thought of another woman with sparkling green eyes and how her long dark lashes had swept over him with surprise earlier today. She had looked like a tomboy dressed in boy’s garb, yet she carried a certain dignity about her. He banished the pretty maiden from his thoughts when Bonita’s voice droned in his ears.

“Nicholas?”

“Yes?”

“You were daydreaming.” She ran her fingers along his masculine chest. “I overheard Thelma assigning you a room. I can meet you later.”

He moved her hand away. “Not tonight, Bonita.”

Leaving Bonita gasping, he stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.

An occasional dog’s yap broke the silence of the night as he dodged mud puddles and took a leisurely stroll about the city. Men tipped their hats, commented on the ravages of the storm, and sauntered homeward. Lamps burned brightly as people gathered in their parlors. He passed Ethel’s Brothel where a woman of easy virtue stood, beckoning him inside. Ignoring her sultry invitation, he continued walking. Still a bachelor at thirty-three, he found little time to court women, although females vying for his affections met his physical needs.
Abandoned at an early age, he was a loner and wasn’t ready to commit to a deep relationship.
Once his uncle’s estate was settled and he rightfully inherited the plantation that he’d poured his soul into, he would find a wife and have children. A lifelong relationship with a loving woman would fulfill his dreams. He smiled as he envisioned his children cuddling against him or romping in the fields but quickly shook off his daydreaming. For now, he wanted
Small Timbers
to continue to prosper, making his uncle proud if he were alive today.