Always and Forever (36 page)

She shot him a quelling look that held a smile. “Get all of your jokes out now, funny man, because I guarantee when I do get big and fat, I might not be of a mind to entertain them.” “No?”

“No.”

“Will you be of a mind to entertain me?”

His double-edged question made her remember past entertaining encounters and she gave him a sultry smile. “For as long as I can.”

“You’re outrageous, do you know that?”

She pointed to herself and asked with wide, innocent eyes, “Me? I’m just a stiff-necked lady banker from Chicago.”

“Eat, woman, before I show you something a whole lot stiffer than that neck of yours.”

“Soon?”

His laughter filled the cabin. A grinning Grace went back to her meal.

Although Grace had yet to approach Jackson about returning north, she did reveal her thinking on the matter to M’dear one morning a few days later.

“I’m afraid he’ll lose his life if he goes hunting for Trent again.”

“That’s a real fear,” M’dear responded sympathetically, looking up from her knitting.

“But how do I convince him to leave?”

M’dear shrugged. “Have you told him how you feel?”

Grace shook her head, “No.”

“Then maybe that is where you should begin.”

Grace looked out over the rich, verdant paradise she now called home and supposed that would be the logical approach, but she didn’t want to cause another rift. Her anger over being pressured into marrying, his anger over her following him to Texas, had faded, and in the aftermath of his injuries, they’d found true peace, not only here in M’dear’s Sanctuary, but in each other. She didn’t want that jeopardized, but on the other hand, his quest for justice and her desire that they return north were destined to clash.

Grace turned back and found M’dear watching her with understanding in her old eyes.

M’dear said softly, “Leave it for now, if you must, but the longer you put it off, the harder it will be.”

“I know.”

But for the next few weeks, Grace kept her fears un-spoken, preferring to bask in her husband’s recovery. He’d grown strong enough to help William with the hunting and fishing. William hunted with a bow, but since Jackson showed little aptitude for that method of hunting, he concentrated on the fishing, something he’d learned to do as a child. In addition to bringing in
strings of fish, he often returned bearing bouquets of flowering plants and long-stemmed exotic blooms for Grace as well. The simple gifts brought her pleasure, increasing her love and deepening her feelings of peace.

One afternoon as she, Jackson, and M’dear sat on the porch of M’dear’s cabin, trying to escape the heat of the late August day, Grace asked M’dear about her past.

“I’ve lived like this all my life,” she replied as she fanned herself with a large rattan fan. “Born in the Carolinas, though. A placed called the Great Dismal Swamp between North Carolina and Virginia. My parents made it their home after they escaped captivity.”

The story brought up memories for Grace, too. “I remember my father saying he stayed in the Virginia swamps for a while after he escaped from Maryland.”

M’dear nodded. “The Great Dismal was home to several thousand runaways before Emancipation.”

“How’d you wind up here, so far away?” Jackson asked.

“Love.” And her soft smile seemed to hold memories. “His name was Jupiter and he was a healer. Learned all I know from him.”

She paused for a moment, as if reflecting. “We went from the swamps of the Carolinas to the swamps of Florida and Louisiana, healing, learning, loving. Finally wound up here and set down roots. He built this house. There was a good-sized community in here at that time, but after the war, things changed. Folks started leaving for the outside. In the last few years, night riders have pushed folks back, but they don’t stay very long. They hide for a while and then find a way to head north or east or west.”

“What happened to your man, Jupiter?” Grace asked softly.

“Died three years ago,” she said sadly, then quieted
for a moment before adding softly, “Miss him. Even though his spirit’s here, it’s not the same.”

Staring off into the distance, she said, “I will see him soon, though. Promised me he’d be here to help me cross over when the time comes, and that time is almost here.”

Jackson and Grace shared a concerned look.

A worried Jackson asked, “Are you sick?” She’d saved his life. He wanted the time to get to know her better.

“No, Jackson, I’m not, but the time is near.”

In sharp contrast to the humid heat, Grace felt a chill cross her soul. Did M’dear really know her death date? Grace glanced over at William standing sentinel-like beside the door to gauge his reaction, and saw the sadness in his dark eyes. Did he know what M’dear was alluding to?

“In the interim,” M’dear said, rising to her feet with the aid of her ebony cane, “First thing in the morning, William and I will be leaving to tend to a sick child. Her family lives a ways down river, and if she’s as sick as William says she is, we’ll probably be there a few days. Will you two be all right here alone?”

Upon seeing Jackson’s and Grace’s grins, she answered her own question. “Of course you will, you’re in love.”

Leaving them with a twinkle in her eye, she slowly made her way into the cabin.

The next morning Jackson helped William load M’dear’s things onto the raft while M’dear and Grace spent a few minutes talking about the food on hand, which of M’dear’s many plants would need watering, and other things, like what might ripen and need to be picked from the vast garden behind the house. Grace mentally noted each item, then walked with her out to the raft.

William gently lifted M’dear’s tiny frame up into his arms. Boarding the raft, he set her down in a big rattan chair that resembled a throne, then poled the raft away from the bank. Jackson and Grace waved and watched until the raft rounded the bend and disappeared from sight.

In the soft silence that descended, one could hear the ever present hum of the insects.

Jackson slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her gently into his side. “Well, we have this paradise all to ourselves. What do you want to do first?”

He waggled his eyebrows.

She grinned, then asked saucily, “Are you sure you’re up to such strenuous activity?”

He turned her so that they stood facing. He’d intended to give her a quick quip in response, but he paused. Gazing down, he saw the face of a redheaded pirate queen who’d taken on Satan himself to keep her husband from entering death’s door, and his heart swelled. “Have I said thank you for saving my life?”

She smiled softly. “I don’t remember.”

He traced her mouth wondrously. “You are one amazing woman.”

“It’s the lioness who hunts after all,” she replied, her heart full too.

“I’m glad she does…”

He kissed her, the first real kiss they’d shared since his recovery, and time slipped away. As her arms moved up his back to hold him close, there were no memories of hurt, pain, or fear, just a slow, passionate recommitment to relearning each other.

“How about I heat us some water for a bath,” he whispered against her ear.

Grace purred contentedly, “That sounds wonderful.” After yet another stifling hot night, Grace couldn’t wait
for the opportunity to feel his lips gliding over her clean, fresh skin.

Tub bathing was done in a spot behind M’dear’s cabin. The unique bathing room was actually a large latticed bower thickly covered with the curling tendrils of M’dear’s thriving grapevines. The riots of vines provided a natural screening for complete privacy.

Seated on the bower’s bench, Grace watched Jackson pour the last bucketful of warm water into the large clawfoot tub. “Do you think Jupiter built this for M’dear?”

“Maybe,” Jackson said, straightening and gazing around. Being the son of a carpenter, he really would have liked to see how it had been constructed, but because of all the vines curling over the latticed wood one could see only the large arch overhead and the two tall walls it rested upon.

“It is a nice spot,” he remarked, marveling at the beauty surrounding them. He then turned his attention to another beautiful sight. “Are you ready?”

They were both fully dressed, but he planned on rectifying that directly.

Grace rose slowly and went to where he stood beside the tub. The anticipation of making love again after what seemed like an eternity had her fairly shaking.

He freed the top button of her blouse and then the one below it. Still holding her captive with eyes that promised to fulfill her every sensual wish, he undid the rest, then brushed the halves aside, his palms grazing her nipples so enticingly, she swooned and closed her eyes.

He kissed her mouth, teasing her lips with the tip of his tongue. While she stood there seeing sunsets, he eased the garment from her to reveal her thin chemise. Enjoying her reactions, he slowly traced a finger down
her trembling throat, then whispered it over the top of each breast. While the sensations rose and rippled over Grace in the thick silence, he leaned down and offered a soft kiss of tribute to each golden crest. He slid the camisole down and suckled each nipple so magnificently that her growl rose against the quiet air.

He straightened, then husked out, “Now you can get into the tub…”

Smoldering, Grace put her hands to the button on the waistband of her black skirt. Knowing that she had his full attention filled her with an odd sort of power. The wanton woman inside her enjoyed the way his eyes followed the path of her skirt as it slowly slipped down her legs, then glided up over her firm brown legs and thin drawers for the journey back to her face. Holding his hot gaze, she lifted the camisole up over her head. As she slowly discarded it, he smiled. Her nipples tightened in response and Grace had never felt so brazen.

She leaned up for a kiss, during which he untied the tapes of her drawers, then worked them down. Still kissing him, she stepped out of them and he took a moment to savor her curves and planes with his worshipping hands.

He picked her up in his arms and lowered her into the water. There was so much heat arching between them, Grace half expected the water to begin to boil.

“Where’s the soap?” he asked softly.

Grace pointed to the small ironwork table nearby. On it were a variety of scented soaps, salts, and oils M’dear had given her after their arrival. He sniffed a few, found one he seemed to favor, and came back to the tub.

She reached out to take the soap from him, but he wouldn’t hand it over, saying, “Not so fast.”

Confused, she watched him wet the soap on the wash-cloth. With her still looking on, he soaped it into a lather,
and she wondered if he was intent upon what he looked to be intent upon.

“Stand up for me, darlin’.”

He was. Anticipation made her tremble as she slowly rose to her feet, and as if rewarding her, the soapy cloth slid down her back and over her hips in such a suggestive and provocative manner, her eyes closed. He washed her in all the places that he planned on loving later—her breasts, shoulders, hips, then up and down her legs and thighs. She stood there, glowing in the silence, with her nipples hard and her core yearning and knew that every bath she took from now on would remind her of this very special place.

He rinsed her clean, wrapped her tenderly in a drying towel, and carried her the short distance to the pallet on the far side of the bower. He dried her so slowly and so well that when his dark fingers began to circle the citadel hidden in her damp copper hair, her legs parted and her hips rose ardently. Pleased, he kissed her mouth and then suckled her pleading breasts until they sang. He kissed his way down her fresh, scented body, and then under the soft hum of their surroundings placed a kiss on the inside of each satin-skinned thigh.

When he brushed his lips across the soft copper hair, Grace thought she’d dissolve and die. She also thought that this time, she’d be better able to handle his sweet conquering, but she was wrong. His warm mouth and its intimate seekings set off thunder and lightning. His lips played, his fingers lingered, and in the end, her screaming release startled the birds out of the trees.

Moments later, he gave her a soft kiss. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move…”

And she didn’t. She couldn’t—hell, she had no desire to. She lay atop the sheet-covered pallet throbbing and
pulsing with the echoes of his magnificent loving, hoping he would hurry.

And he did. Jackson took the fastest bath he’d ever taken in his life. Clean now, he came back and knelt beside her.

She lay right where he’d left her, nude and beautiful. He traced her mouth and she opened her eyes. For a moment they fed themselves on the desire in each other, silently speaking the way only lovers can, and then he lowered his mouth to hers and began again.

By the time he entered her, Grace was so ready, his first few possessive strokes almost sent her over the edge again, but she held off so she could enjoy him to the fullest.

Jackson knew he wasn’t going to last long, not this time; she was too hot, the paradise sheltering him too lush. The sight of her rising so passionately to match him thrust for thrust was also sending him toward the top. The silky weight of her hips in his hands as he guided her in a bliss-filled rhythm made him drop his head back and increase the pace of strokes. Soon they were both rising and falling in sweet battle. She shattered first, twisting and clutching his strong waist, her voice rising in song. He came next, face tight, and growling.

In the aftermath, they lay side by side, looking up at their vine-covered ceiling.

Jackson said, “Well, if you weren’t pregnant before, you sure are now.”

Grace snorted with humor and playfully punched him in the side. “I hope my children aren’t going to be as arrogant as their father.”

“Me?” he accused, turning over so they were facing. “Who is more arrogant than you, Miss Pirate Queen?”

“You,” she said, smiling.

He dragged her atop him. Resting a hand on each hip, he squeezed her lightly and said, “Our child, or if M’dear is right, our
children,
will be wonderful, whoever they favor.”