Authors: Susan Edwards
Her eyes were wide, dark with turbulent emotion. “What I feel scares me, Grady.”
Bursts of sunshine reached into the dark corners of his soul, warming him from the inside out. “Loving you is the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Facing the enemy in battle is nothing compared to admitting that I love you.”
“What if—”
Reaching out, he silenced her doubt with a gentle kiss. “No what-ifs. We have each other. That’s all we need. There are no guarantees. We both know that. Let’s just take each day as it comes. I love you, Star. With all my heart and soul, I love you. Nothing else matters. We stand together, united.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. She pushed the covers off and rose to her knees. She removed her nightdress in one smooth motion.
Grady sucked in his breath. Soft light bathed her body in a golden glow. His blood heated, pooling in his groin as his gaze dipped to linger on her breasts: small, gently rounded, with twin dark nipples. He watched as the tips tightened and peaked.
Swallowing hard, his eyes lowered, following the smooth slope of her body downward to her narrow waist and onward over the gentle swell of her womanly hips. There, his gaze lingered on the dark patch of curls nestled between her legs. His hands twitched with the need to cup her, to feel her warm, moist heat. Her knees parted slightly, and he could see the faint outline of her nether lips. His fingers longed to slide through the springy curls and find the sensitive heart of her. His body swelled with desperate need.
Willing himself to go slow and not rush, Grady stood, facing her as he removed his shirt, shoes and socks. He hesitated, watching Star closely. She wet her lips—his own had gone dry too—and as her gaze roamed over his body, his skin tingled as if she’d kissed every inch of him. When her eyes lowered to his fingers, poised on the buttons at his waist, he undid each one, drawing out the moment of divesting himself of his trousers. He could hear her intake of breath.
Suddenly, his desire demanded he continue the sweet torment. He had to touch her as he’d dreamed of doing, now. Seconds later, he stood before her, naked. And when she held out her arms, he didn’t hesitate. He joined her on the bed, kneeling in front of her, gathering her close until they were pressed together from thighs to chest and breast. But Grady made no movement to lie them down. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, and reveled in the meeting of their naked flesh.
Star sighed with pleasure as Grady’s arms closed around her, enveloping her in his strength and scent as his heated skin made contact with hers. Her breasts ached and swelled against the hard wall of his chest, and the feel of his pulsing manhood against her belly increased the ache between her legs. Moisture gathered where the ache throbbed deepest. She moaned with such need, felt embarrassed and lowered her head to his chest.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He tipped her head up.
“I’ve never felt this way. I want you so much, it hurts
here.
” She pressed her hand to her lower abdomen. Her hand grazed his swollen length. He shuddered and took her hand, placing her palm along it.
“I hurt with my need for you as well, my sweet, lovely, bright Star.”
She gently cupped him, her finger caressing his velvety tip, smoothing the moisture beading there. “Bright Star. You’ve called me that before.” She liked the name, it held a certain shared wonder for her.
“You brought light back into my life. Through your eyes, I’ve found love and laughter once again. You saved me, gave me hope for the future.” His hands crept up to cup her face. He kissed her.
Star moaned. There was no gentle teasing in this demanding assault. Passion took over. Her hands wrapped around Grady’s neck, pulling him close. As she opened her mouth, his tongue thrust inside. She suckled. He groaned and retreated. Following, she took from him, stroking his tongue, sliding along the inner flesh of his mouth, sinking under waves of building passion.
As one, their hips moved. The mattress moved beneath their knees, and Grady’s hands slid down her back and cupped her buttocks. He pulled her tight against him. She rocked there, seeking to be even closer. Moving one of her legs outside his, he thrust his thigh hard against her. She cried out and shuddered, fighting the urge to let herself go. But her body, stroked to a feverish pitch, needed release. She cried his name, breaking off their kiss. His lips trailed down her throat and one hand slid down over her belly, making her catch her breath.
Then his hand cupped her, pressed down hard, and she could only grab his shoulders and hold on. Her own harsh, ragged breathing filled the room.
“Find release, Star,” he begged. He slid one finger into her moist folds and grazed the swollen heart begging for his touch. He stroked it with one hand while his other supported her lower back, his fingers digging into the flesh of her buttocks.
Star could do nothing but what he asked, for her body could stand no more. His breath tickled her ear as his mouth found the sensitive area behind it and along her neck.
Her hips circled frantically, his fingers matching her movements, driving her faster, pressing her harder, leaving her no choice but to follow him up the path to pleasure and pain—and release.
Gasping, she thrust her hips forward one last time and felt herself explode into fragments of shuddering ecstasy. Incredible color burst around her. Still Grady stroked, coaxing wave after wave of ecstasy from her throbbing flesh until, spent, she sagged against him.
Grady lowered them both to the mattress. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He stroked tenderly from her hip to the gentle swell of her breast, then cupped it. She noticed that she filled his palm, her size perfect. Bending his head, she felt him taste her, his tongue circling the peak of her breast before his lips took the dusky nipple into his mouth.
Her gasp of pleasure shocked her. His hand cradled and caressed her other breast. Then he took his time licking and sucking the straining tip until both of her breasts were wet with his kisses, her puckered nipples erect and hard.
Star’s fingers gripped his head, her fingers massaging his scalp, tangling in his hair. He lifted his head. Strands of his hair hung down and brushed against her breasts. He kissed her slowly, but his passion could not be contained for long. Nor could hers. Frantically Star urged him over her, her drawn-up knees falling wide. He needed no further invitation. Supporting himself on his hands, he leaned down to brush his lips over each breast as he maneuvered his body.
“I can’t wait much longer, bright Star,” he said. “I need you, now.”
But Star didn’t want him to wait. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him inside by tipping her hips. He slid into her.
With him buried deep within her, Star convulsed around him. She was near to finding release again. He moved slowly and she moaned, but then the storm of need broke. Their mouths locked, tongues thrusting and retreating in time to the sudden frantic movements of their hips.
Star dug her fingers into Grady’s shoulders, feeling her body tensing, tightening with each hard thrust. Every time he withdrew, she cried out, then moaned in pleasure when he surged back inside. Her legs tightened, keeping him from withdrawing completely. His mouth left hers. She arched her back and again, felt his teeth scrape against her sensitive, swollen nipple.
“Grady,” she cried.
“Yes, love.” He was moving hard and fast now, demanding she follow him. In. Out. Faster and faster until Star could barely breathe.
“Now!” he gasped, his voice hoarse, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he threw his head back. With one last thrust, his body stiffened and pulsed deep inside her.
“Yes.” She sobbed, arching up, her body convulsing around him, drawing his length deeper, holding him as tremors wracked her body, sending her higher until she too stiffened. The ecstasy of joining with him, becoming one, sharing a climb to the peak of joy held more wonder than she’d ever known. Again, her body spasmed as if there was no end to her pleasure. And she didn’t want one; she wanted to savor this incredible moment, the bright stars bursting behind her closed eyes.
Finally, her body calmed. Grady collapsed on top of her. They kissed; lazily, tiredly, letting each other know without words what the joining meant to them.
Still united, Grady smiled down at her. “I love you, Star Dreamer.”
Running the pads of her fingers over the contours of his face, Star felt tears slip from the corners of her eyes. She loved this man, wanted to say the words but was afraid. “I—”
He stopped her with a kiss. “We have time. When the time is right, when you have to say those words to me or burst with it, then say them.” He sighed even as he flexed his hips, causing another tremor to roll through her. “I suppose you should return to your own bed.”
She tipped her head, both relieved and on edge. “Why?”
“So our daughters don’t find us sleeping together.”
Star tightened her hold on him. Whites held different views of love than her people. This was not the same as it would have been at home. By her own people’s beliefs, she and Grady would be considered married now. Many times, couples defied parents by running away together, and when they returned, they were considered husband and wife.
But that was not so in Grady’s world. And despite her love—and having admitted it to him—she wasn’t sure she could take that next step. “I don’t want to leave. Not yet.”
Grady’s smile grew in the candlelight. “There are many hours before I have to tuck you back into your own bed. In the meantime, I’m not the least bit tired.”
Near her, Star felt his hardness grow. Her own center throbbed anew. “Neither am I,” she answered. She sighed when he bent his head to her breasts once more.
Hester Mae paused in the entryway to check her appearance in the gilt-framed mirror before leaving the house. Using both hands, she adjusted her hat, setting it at a slight angle. Satisfied, she drew her gloves, then hesitated once more to study image in the glass.
She leaned forward, smoothed a faint crease in her forehead, then turned a critical gaze to the tiny lines fanning out from each corner of her eyes. When had time stamped its passage on her face? The forties, she mused, were not kind years to a woman. But at least she had her figure. Though no children. Desperation combined with unfulfillment slid through her, deepening the creases on the sides of her mouth and thinning her lips.
“Hester Mae, let’s go. I’m late.” Baxter strode back in through the front door.
Turning from her unhappy image, she followed her husband out to their waiting carriage. When the buggy stopped in front of his warehouse, Baxter handed her the reins and climbed down. “I won’t be home tonight.”
An opportunity to see Leo.
Yet the prospect of her lover didn’t thrill her as it once had. She was tired of the man, and his demands. All he cared about were his own needs. He would come tonight, no matter how she felt. With a sigh, she wished her husband would stay home. It seemed as if he’d only just returned from a trip. “Leaving again so soon, Bax? You had better watch out, or the neighbors will think you’ve got a mistress tucked away somewhere.”
Baxter lifted a brow. “Would you really care, Hester Mae? You’ve made it clear you abhor my presence.”
To her surprise, the thought that he might have a mistress bothered her—a lot. She stared down at him from her perch in the carriage, noting how he suddenly looked his age. Sighing, she looked away, wishing that things had worked out better between them.
“No doubt. Because you’d worry over what the neighbors would think,” he finally answered himself, sounding tired and sad.
She sighed. “Maybe we should never have married. Why
did
you marry me, Baxter? Neither of us has made the other happy.”
“Do you really want to know?”
Suddenly afraid, Hester Mae chewed on the inside of her cheek. She’d always assumed her father had put pressure on Baxter, the son of one of his acquaintances, to take pity on her. “Why?”
“I thought you’d make a good wife and mother. You were mature, not some simpering, empty-headed girl who cared only for balls and being invited to the right homes. And after my first wife died, I was lonely.”
She laughed hollowly. “That hasn’t changed, has it, Baxter?”
He stared off toward the harbor. “I promised your father that I’d take care of you.”
Her throat clogged. “You have taken care of me, Baxter.” He had. He’d provided for her, and though she might consider him to be tight-fisted, she had never lacked for the things a woman of her social position needed.
“But I haven’t made you happy, Hester Mae.”
Drawing a deep breath, she turned to look at him. “I suppose it’s not your fault you couldn’t give me children.”
“If you’d already had a dozen, perhaps you’d have been happy and content with a man nearly old enough to be your father.” He ran one hand over his thinning hair and gripped an envelope in the other. He stared at it, then dropped both arms to his sides. “Do you want me to set you free, Hester Mae? I will. I can buy you a house and see you provided for life. I’ll have Manning do up the paperwork.”
Startled, she turned in her seat. Once she’d have jumped at that. Even yesterday. But today? She wasn’t sure.
Squeezing the reins tightly in her gloved fists, she shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her life was so empty; she just didn’t know what she wanted anymore.
“We’ll talk when I get back.”
Hester Mae nodded, then left. She drove aimlessly, thinking. If she hadn’t married Baxter, what would her life have been like? Not much different than now, perhaps. She’d already been a spinster, and her chance of having made an acceptable marriage had passed her by. Baxter had given her the opportunity to be a wife.
But she’d failed in that role. And now, like her father, Baxter was disappointed in her. Knowing that she was lacking shouldn’t have the power to hurt her—not anymore—but it did.
The old pain returned. Her father had wanted a son. He’d gotten Hester. If she’d been beautiful or clever or talented like her sister, things might have been different. But she’d been plain, gawky and painfully shy. A big disappointment to her parents. And now Baxter too.
So where did their marriage go from here? Children might have bridged the gap between them, given them a common interest, but they didn’t have any. Now what? Did she want Baxter to set her free? She thought of Leo. She’d be free to marry him, but that didn’t appeal. She and he really had nothing in common, and if she was honest, it was the attention he gave her that she sought—and the lovemaking. But he didn’t provide what she needed most—companionship.
Left with no easy answers, she turned another corner. She’d planned to visit her niece after dropping Baxter off at the warehouse. The thought of encountering Grady’s animosity or his savage governess nearly made her change her mind, but she stiffened her back. It was up to her to make sure her sister’s child was being taken care of.
Without warning, a small girl in a ragged dress darted out from an alley in front of her horse and froze. The child screamed. Hester Mae screamed then too, and yanked hard on the reins. Three boys who were throwing rocks at the little girl skidded to a stop, took one look at Hester Mae and ran back the way they’d come.
Furious with the youths for their meanness, Hester Mae dropped down in front of the girl. “Are you all right?”
Sniffling, the girl—somewhere around five years old—nodded. She reached up to touch the back of her head. Blood smeared her small fingers. Her eyes, a brilliant blue, glittered with unshed tears.
“Why, you’re hurt. Those boys should be whipped.” Hester Mae planned to find the ill-mannered ruffians and give them and their parents a piece of her mind. What was this city coming to?
Meanwhile, this child needed tending. She took one of her new embroidered hankies and dabbed at the child’s head, parting hair a shade between light brown and blond that hadn’t seen water in months. She shuddered to think about lice, but she needed to see how bad the gash was. “It’s not too bad,” she said, relieved.
Big blue eyes stared up at Hester Mae.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she soothed. “I won’t hurt you. What’s your name?”
“Aggie, ma’am.”
“Well, Aggie, let’s get you home to your mother. She must be worried.”
Aggie’s lower lip quivered. “My ma’s gone.”
Hester Mae stood and held out her hand. “Then show me where you live, child.” Taking the tiny, frail-feeling hand in her own, they walked around Hester’s carriage. Hester Mae lifted the child, shocked at the feel of her ribs. The girl was far too thin.
With the child pointing out the way, they soon arrived at a small building. Aggie led her inside, up five flights of stairs and down a long corridor that smelled of stale alcohol, greasy food and urine. Open doorways revealed tiny apartments. Noise flooded out into the hallways: babies crying, frustrated women shouting at noisy children, barking dogs. The girl stopped before a closed door. From inside, Hester Mae heard the wails of a baby.
Knocking, she stepped back and waited. A young woman opened the door. In her arms, she held a screaming, red-faced infant. Several other children of various ages peeked around her skirts.
“What do you want?” The woman had to shout to be heard over the racket.
“I’ve brought Aggie back. I’m afraid she’s hurt. Not badly, though.” Hester Mae explained what had happened. “She’s too young to be running around out there unsupervised.” She couldn’t help the note of censure. Did this woman not care for these children? Did she not realize how fortunate she was to have them?
“See here, ma’am, she ain’t mine. Her ma died birthin’ this here boy. I’m only lookin’ after her and the babe until someone comes to claim her. I got six of my own to tend to.”
“What about their father?”
“Spent all his time in jail and finally got himself killed ’bout six months ago in a brawl.”
“Are there no relatives?”
“Look, I ain’t got the time or money to search for any. I thought I could take them in, but looks like I’ll have to turn them over to the church or an orphanage. Me and my husband just can’t feed and clothe two more.”
Staring down at Aggie’s sad features, Hester Mae felt the first stirring of maternal protectiveness. She opened her reticule and withdrew several bills. “I’ll have my husband’s attorney see what he can do. I’ll be in touch. This should set food on your table for a few days.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “This is so much!”
Realizing just how fortunate she was, how much she had, Hester Mae shook her head. “No, it’s not. I’ll have fresh milk and bread delivered later today.” She hesitated, hating to leave Aggie. But before she did anything, she had to talk to Baxter. If she stayed with him, would he be willing to adopt Aggie and her brother? Her hungry gaze settled on the infant.
“Could… I’d like to hold him—if I may?” The woman, some of her worry and fears set aside, smiled and handed over the boy. “Come on in.”
Hester Mae stared down at the squalling baby. She rubbed his tiny back, thrilled when he stopped crying. Holding out her hand, she—with a baby in one arm and Aggie clutching her other hand—stepped into the small, cramped apartment. Surrounded by eight children, Hester Mae felt as though she’d entered another world.
Baxter settled himself in his office. Though he had a lot on his mind and a confrontation to deal with, he couldn’t help playing over that last conversation with his wife. In all the years of their marriage—nearly twelve years—they hadn’t ever talked about their future, or what the other wanted. Theirs hadn’t been a love match, but he’d truly been fond of Hester Mae—at first. But her disappointment and disillusionment had prevented love from growing and taking root.
She blamed him for her childless state. Women often measured each other by their families, and her lack of children had always been a source of bitterness between them. He didn’t blame her for assuming the problem lay with him—after all, he was so much older—but he knew the truth. And the one word that would clear him would destroy her—so he kept his secret.
Pulling several sheets of paper from the envelope he’d been carrying, he reread the report from the man he’d hired to follow her. He’d suggested she drop him off this morning because he’d planned to bring her into his office and confront both her and Leo. But after their conversation out front, he couldn’t. She was young; maybe she needed more than he could give her. He couldn’t blame her for that. And still, though he’d offered to release her from their marriage, he didn’t want to lose her.
He slid the papers back into the envelope and tossed it into the back of his desk drawer. He’d burn them later. How could he accuse her of infidelity, take her to task for it, when he’d had his own affairs over the years? “What a sorry pair we are,” he murmured, praying it wasn’t too late to make things right.
The one thing she wanted he could give her, but by confessing, it could very well spell the end of their marriage. Pulling out another missive, this one delivered yesterday, he reread the message. Beatrice, his mistress, had died three days ago. Their children were on their way to him.
He’d told Hester Mae he was leaving town, but he wasn’t. He had planned to settle his children in another house he owned—one Hester Mae knew nothing about—and spend the night there. He still had to hire a nursemaid for them. Or he could ask Hester Mae to accept them and raise them in place of the children her own body could not give her.
Hearing a door bang, he saw Leo walk past. A glance at his pocket watch confirmed that the man was early. “Leo, I’d like a word with you,” he called out.
His employee entered and took the seat Baxter indicated.
“
Freedom’s Fancy
returned to port this morning with engine trouble.” He paused, noting the man’s slight widening of the eyes before he composed himself. He didn’t say anything.
“Imagine my surprise when the captain asked what I wanted to do with the cargo of runaway slaves on board.” Baxter slammed his fist on his desk. “What did you think you were doing?”
Leo shifted in his seat. “The money was good. The customer was desperate and willing to pay.”
Baxter glared at Leo. “I don’t care about the money, and you know it. You went against my policy.” He paused. “You’re fired.”
Leo jumped up. “You can’t fire me. You need me!” Fury and disbelief were evident in his voice.
Baxter picked up his pen, dismissing him. “I’ll hire someone else.” He began writing an advertisement for the paper. When he glanced up, Leo was still standing there in stunned disbelief. “Leave the premises. And, Leo…stay away from my wife.”
Leo knocked over the chair in his agitation. “Hester Mae loves me, not you, you sorry excuse for a man!”
Baxter ignored him, which infuriated the man further. Leo walked to the door but didn’t leave, so Baxter kept writing. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave easily, he lifted his head, ready to threaten him.
Baxter’s eyes widened when he saw Leo staring down at him with hatred. The man held a large white statue of a woman that had sat on the shelf in his office. He raised it.
“You’re not going to ruin my plans!” Leo shouted. “I’m tired of being poor and having everyone else tell me what to do. It’s my turn.”
Baxter held up his hands to deflect the blow but wasn’t fast enough. His attacker had the advantage of height and the weight of the statue. The stone caught him on the temple. Pain radiated from his head as he slumped forward. Blood dripped into his eyes. His last thought was of Hester Mae and his children. Too late, he thought.
Blackness swallowed him up.
When Star woke in her own bed, alone, she stretched, feeling pleasantly sore. Wondering where Grady was and eager to see him, she dressed without waiting for the maid.
A knock on the connecting door made her smile. She opened it.