After the Storm (12 page)

In their wake, silence settled onto the porch, punctuated only by the chirps of insects. She said nothing while Samuel gathered up his newspaper.

He turned. “Your bath is going to get cold.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For the bath? It's nothing. I figured you—”

She put her hand on his arm. “For making my children so happy.”

“That was even easier than heating up bathwater for you.” He folded the newspaper under one arm.

He did not move closer to her, but she was as aware of every inch of him as if he had pulled her against him. Her breath caught as her fingers were swallowed by his. Something stirred deep inside her, a sweet pleasure she had nearly forgotten. Pulling back, she clasped her hands behind her. She must not be tempted by a handsome man again. “I should go before the water gets cold.”

“Yes, you should,” he murmured, raising her hand.

She clenched her other hand as he brushed her knuckles with his lips. No kiss this chaste should seem so provocative, imploring her to forget her bath and the children and propriety while she let his mouth enrapture her.

“Good night.” Slowly she drew her hand out of his and took one step toward the door. If he answered, she did not hear him as she hurried inside and to her room.

The lamp was casting its glow only into the middle of the room, leaving the corners in shadow. It reflected off the water in the tub that was far bigger than any she had ever used. She would be able to sit in it if she drew up her knees.

She waited for the pulse of excitement at enjoying such luxury, but it never came. Instead, she sat on a chair next to the tub and stared at the towels and the bar of soap sitting on the bed.

She had vowed never to let another man into her life, but from the moment Samuel had come out on the porch tonight she had struggled to keep her focus on Brendan's stories about raising his cow. Her thoughts kept wandering to where Samuel sat, reading his newspaper intently. She had noticed how he pushed his glasses up his nose with an impatient motion, and how his hair dropped down over the back of his collar. When he had rested one leg on the opposite knee, she had listened to little else than the rhythm of the rockers creaking against the porch floorboards.

Pushing herself to her feet so quickly that her head spun anew, Cailin gripped the footboard and waited for the room to stop rocking like Samuel's chair. She pushed the thought of him aside. Right now, all she should be thinking of was enjoying this bath.

She unbuttoned her dress with care, but, even so, another button fell off. It rolled under the bed. She bent to peer down and saw the button had come to a stop nearer the far side. Edging around the tub, she dropped onto her stomach and stretched her hand under the bed.

She pulled the button out and cautiously got to her feet. This time, her head did not spin. She must be careful until she was completely well. Setting the button on the dressing table, she put her dress on the chair. Just as she was about to lower the strap of her chemise, she heard a click and saw the door open. She grasped her dress, holding it in front of her as Samuel walked in as if there were nothing wrong with him being in her room tonight.

“What are you doing here?” she cried.

He tossed something onto the bed. It was, she saw, a man's dressing robe of dark red material that looked astonishingly like silk. “I thought that, once you were clean, you might want to wear something other than your dress tonight.”

“I don't wear it to bed.”

“You're wearing my shirt still?” His eyes glistened, and she knew he was imagining how she would look in that.

But he did not need to imagine. He had seen her wearing it when he came in here to help her while she was sick. She was no longer sick, and he should not be here. “Samuel, I don't think this is the time to discuss this.”

“You're right.” His gaze slipped along her.

She looked down to see that her legs from ankle to mid-calf were visible beneath the dress. Edging behind the tub, she said, “Thank you for the robe.”

He held out his hand.

“What?” she asked.

“If you'll give me that dress, I'll wash it out. It should be dry in the morning when you get up.”

“This dress?”

He smiled and turned to face the door. “Put on the robe and your modesty won't be compromised.”

“But then it won't be clean when I am.” That sounded petulant, but she had liked the idea of fresh clothes when she was done bathing.

Facing her, he said, “You are a troublesome woman. Wait here.” He opened the door and went out.

Cailin did not move as she heard another door open. The one along the hall nearest to this room. When she heard a drawer opening and closing, she knew that door must open onto Samuel's bedroom. Only a single wall separated the two rooms. The thought of that intimacy was both unnerving and undeniably delightful.

Before she had a chance to warn her mind not to wander in that direction, Samuel strode back into her room. He held out a nightshirt that was of a soft gray flannel.

“This will be hot to wear tonight, but it'll keep you covered.” He turned his back to her again. “You'd better hurry, or that water will feel as chilly as the ice down in the icehouse.”

She kept the dress between herself and him and awkwardly pulled on the nightshirt. It dropped to cover the top of her toes. Sweat bubbled along her back, for the nightshirt was just as smothering in the evening's heat as he had warned.

“All set,” she said.

He looked at her and chuckled. “I hope your suffering is worth it.”

“If you'd leave, I could get into the tub and get cooled off.”

“Give me your dress and I'll leave you to your bath.”

She started to hand it to him, then reached into the pocket and pulled out the battered photograph.

“Is that a picture of your husband?” he asked quietly, the teasing gone from his voice.

“Yes.”

“May I?”

Giving it to him, she watched as he tilted it toward the lamp.

He handed it back to her. “I thought he'd look more like Brendan.”

“Brendan favors
mo athair
—I mean, my father.” She put the picture on the dressing table. “I see more of Abban in Lottie than the other children.”

“I hope that gives you some comfort.”

She picked up the dress and handed it to him. “Thank you for your sympathy, but I don't need it.”

“You don't need it?” His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

Cursing herself for speaking so thoughtlessly, she answered, “It's time for me to think about the future, not the past.”

“Wise advice. I hope you can follow it better than most people.”

Cailin wanted to ask him to explain what he meant, but ending this conversation now would be the smartest thing she could do. Otherwise, her fatigue might lead her again into saying something better left unspoken.

“Bring the nightshirt along with your other clothes out to the kitchen when you're done bathing,” Samuel continued, and she wondered if he was eager to finish this discussion that seemed to perturb him, too.

“You don't have to wash my clothes!” she said, even though she knew she should be silent.

“Have you been overcome by the heat, or is that a blush reddening your cheeks? I'll leave the laundry tub in the kitchen if you want to tend to your own laundry.” He laughed as he reached for the doorknob. “Try not to take all night with your bath.”

Cailin rushed to the door as soon as it was closed and twisted the lock. Now nobody could get in without clambering through the window. She crossed the room and drew the curtains. Moonlight washed through, diffused.

Peeling off the nightshirt and her underclothes, which were stained with sweat from her fever, she left them on the floor. She picked up the soap and stepped into the water.

“Perfect,” she breathed as water flowed up around her legs to welcome her. She sat, and the warm water surrounded her. Even with her knees close to her chest, this was going to be the most luxurious bath she had ever had.

She trickled the water along her skin to savor its freshness, then began to scrub her arms. Soap bubbles surrounded her. She ignored them as she washed herself, then rested back to let the water lap up around her shoulders. This was the first time since she had left Ireland that she could let herself truly relax.

Being on a ship with three curious children had kept her busy. She had feared that inquisitiveness would end up with them falling overboard. When one of the sailors had offered to show them about, they had enjoyed the tour. She smiled. He had been not more than a dozen years older than Brendan, and he had seemed anxious to talk with her about his plans to ask his beloved to be his wife as soon as the ship docked in New York harbor. A happy ending to a love story.

Her parents' own love story had had a happy ending as well. They had not known each other long before they were married, and that marriage had lasted more than twenty years. She had been their only child, born long after they had feared their marriage would not be blessed with a child, and the affection they shared washed over onto her to create their love-filled home. Sometimes, there had not been enough food, but there never had been a dearth of caring.

She wondered how Athair was faring. She had known she would miss him, but she had not guessed how much. She missed his easy laugh and his love of fiddle music, a gift he had bequeathed to her, although she had had to sell her own fiddle shortly after she reached New York City to pay Mrs. Rafferty for providing for the children. When she had learned that one of the maids who slept in the crowded room along with her and three other women could read and write, Cailin had had her write a note to Athair, telling him of their safe arrival and Abban's death. The priest would read the letter to her father. She had said nothing of the icy welcome at Mrs. Rafferty's house, and the fact that she seldom saw her children. Worrying him would gain her nothing.

She had found her children.

And Samuel …

Everyone was astonished when Samuel offered to have the three children placed out with him. Three children for a bachelor
!

Emma's voice played through her head again, but this time Cailin wondered why anyone had been astonished by Samuel's bringing her children into his home. His gentle heart was revealed each time he spoke to one of the children. Had he hidden it from the rest of the people living near Haven? He had not been able to conceal it from her. Nor had he taken any trouble to make his desire to hold her a secret.

Sometime later, Cailin blinked and realized she had almost surrendered to her exhaustion. The water was now tepid, so she soaped her hair and rinsed it quickly. With reluctance, she stood and wrapped the towel around her.

She drew on the extra undergarments she had brought with her from New York after she had sold everything else to get the last few pennies for her fare. Slipping her arms into Samuel's robe, she relished the silk sliding along her skin like a cool caress. She tied it closed as she went to the dressing table. Drying her hair, she combed out the snarls. It hung down her back, so she tied it back with a ribbon from the box Emma had brought her. Gathering up her clothes, she left damp footprints behind her as she unlocked the door and opened it.

She stared out. Right in the hallway, Samuel was sitting on a blue wooden chair, reading his newspaper. “Samuel, I didn't realize … I mean …”

He came to his feet. “I didn't want the children to take it into their heads to intrude.”

“Thank you.” She tried not to think about how little she wore, but she was aware of every inch of herself, separated from him by little more than silk and air. “I'll empty the tub—”

“While dressed like that? If you get water splattered on you …” He took a step toward her, halting as suddenly as if a wall had suddenly appeared in front of him.

“It could ruin your robe,” she finished. She knew, from the way his gaze edged from her head to her feet, that her words were not the ones he had halted himself from saying.

“Yes, yes.”

She wondered if he was as grateful as he sounded … for any excuse to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary. She stifled a yawn. Maybe he was simply as tired as she was.

“Let me take your things,” he said.

She smiled. “I'll wash them while you empty the tub.”

“You can hang them over the chairs in the kitchen.”

“It'd be more convenient to let them dry in my room.”

“You're probably right.”

She nodded, although he was studiously not looking at her. They were tempting trouble. An attraction was fun to think about, but fooling around with fire was a good way to end up with nothing but heartbreak. Abban had taught her that.

“Good night, Samuel.” This time, the yawn escaped.

She heard him mutter something, and her steps faltered. “What did you say?” She half-turned before his hand on her arm twirled her against him. “Samuel, we shouldn't,” she whispered, even as her arm slid around his shoulder.

He tossed the newspaper onto the chair. “You're right. We shouldn't.” His fingers splayed across her back, drawing her even closer.

Slipping her hand along his nape, she teased the short hairs on the back of his neck. “I should go now.”

“Yes, you should.”

The robe wrinkled beneath his palm as his hand drifted up her back. She struggled to keep her breaths slow, but they grew rapid and shallow, each one brushing against his hard chest.

“Samuel …” His name became a moan when she dropped the clothes to the floor and steered his mouth over hers. All the many reasons why she should not be here with him, in his arms, kissing him, did not matter as much as the one reason why she should.

When his tongue brushed hers, she let the thrill sweep away her thoughts. His fingers combed through her wet hair, drawing it aside. She was sure the heat racing through her would dry it within seconds when his mouth moved along her neck. His hands scorched away the silk as they swept down her back. His hard arm pinned her to him, but she could not be still as a deep craving besieged her. Each motion brushed her against him, creating sparks between them.