Beguiled (6 page)

I expected her to snatch her hand away, but instead, she caressed my cunny, my thighs, my abdomen. When she pressed a kiss to my shoulder, I summoned all my courage to turn my head and watch her as she finally moved away from me. Holding my gaze, she lifted her glistening fingers to her lips and tasted them.

Shocked, I stared. Watching Alice slide the finger into her mouth that had just been inside me was the most erotic, most scandalous sight I’d ever witnessed. Something electric and unspoken hung in the air between us until she finally twisted onto her back.

I lay there, trembling. I couldn’t believe what I’d just allowed her to do. Not daring to breathe, I watched as she plunged her hand under the sheets. I realized she was touching herself, but I couldn’t bring myself to do to her what she’d done to me.

Touch her. Touch her, fool!

I wanted to. But before I could muster the courage, the covers rustled with her trembling. She moaned softly, and the bed shimmied before she exhaled several rough breaths; then she was still.

Moments later, her breathing became even and slow, and I knew she’d fallen back asleep.

Long after she had drifted off to sleep, I still lay awake. My body still hummed with what she’d done to me. Her touch had chased away the ghost of my dream, and I didn’t know whether to be angry or happy for the reprieve from the hollow place inside me that would not be sated until Dalton returned home from the war.

If
Dalton returned from the war.

* * *

I rose to tend the goats just as an orange glow of sun sliced across the horizon. Wanting to think, I slipped off without Uncle Hewlett, knowing the heavy pails of goat’s milk would be difficult to manage.

After the Confederate riders had gone, he’d informed me I should carry Pa’s pistol with me, but I didn’t feel I needed it. Besides, I didn’t know how to shoot, and no one would ever find the secluded spot where we hid the goats.

Alice.

The back of my neck blazed when I replayed last night’s events in my head. Alice had caught me masturbating—and then she had brought me to orgasm. The memory of her fingers between my legs, searching, probing, penetrating renewed my desire.

Perspiration beaded between my shoulder blades and trickled down my back. I blew out a breath. I had to stop thinking about this. About Alice.

When I arrived at the spot where we kept the herd, the goats filed into milking order. It was the same every day. First, Cinnamon because she had taken the stance as the herd leader—the queen. Then came the twins. The others fell into a line that made no sense at all since age or the order in which they’d birthed kids didn’t seem to be factor.

After filling their feed bucket, I took my position on the stool and greeted each doe as she presented herself to be milked. I laughed at Jeff Davis, who kept looking up the path for his nemesis, Uncle Hewlett. “He’s not coming today, President Davis!” I called to the ornery buck.

He blew and bleated and stomped his hooves on the ground, obviously angry because he’d been cheated out of what he considered his morning romp.

I covered the milk pails, hefted them into a small wagon I used for hauling, and hitched Jeff Davis up so we could take the milk to the springhouse. Jeff and I bypassed the big springhouse we’d used before the war. Fearing Yankees or other thieves would loot it, we used the old one my grandfather had used when he’d built the big house at Rattle and Snap.

Granddaddy’s first house had been a two-room log cabin with a loft for the children. When he’d moved into the big house, he’d given the cabin to Uncle Hewlett, who stood on the porch now as I passed on the creekside path below. “I’ll get that for you,” he called, lumbering down the porch steps.

Jeff let out a high-pitched
baa
, and I held the reins tight to keep him from upsetting the milk cart.

Uncle Hewlett eyed the goat. “Don’t give me any trouble, you grand rascal.”

I could have sworn I saw Jeff grin. Straightening and stretching, I breathed in the scent of late summer, of tired leaves and cool clay. As Uncle Hewlett cautiously led Jeff toward the springhouse, my thoughts turned once more to what had happened with Alice last night.

As I walked back to the big house, I stared at the rushing water in the creek, mesmerized by the ripples and the rich hues of browns and greens. Alice had touched me between the legs. And I had let her. I bit my bottom lip. What did it mean? Had I committed a sin? Had I been unfaithful to Dalton?

Confused, I struggled to think clearly as my rampant mind ran in a thousand directions. All those times Alice watched me and studied me flitted through my head. Now, I recognized the look I’d seen in her eyes that had unnerved me. Desire.

A chill shook my spine.

Desire.

I gulped. Alice desired
me
? A woman? Someone of her own sex?

I’d often seen buck goats in rut attempt to copulate with each other. I knew the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, but I had assumed only males engaged in that type of activity.

The right thing to do would be to set Alice straight, to tell her that I’d made a mistake in allowing her to touch me in such a manner. But even now, my thighs warmed and my channel clenched at the thought of feeling her hand between my legs again.

These years without Dalton had been long and torturous.

Was I so wrong to seek physical pleasure in such an innocent way? After all, Alice was a woman. It wasn’t as if I could fall in love with another woman. What had happened between us was merely two women comforting each other in the dark.

I nodded.

That’s all.

Comfort.

Lost in my thoughts, I went in the house and climbed the stairs only to be shocked back to reality when I discovered Alice standing in front of the mirror with my shears. A dusting of auburn hair littered the floor.

“What are you doing?” I cried.

“Cutting my hair,” she replied simply.

“But I thought… I assumed you’d want it to grow now that you’re no longer trying to pretend to be a man,” I said.

She smirked. “Hell no. I like it short.” She snipped off another lock.

I blew out a breath. “Give me those shears. You’ll end up looking like you’ve got the mange.”

I drew a nearby chair up for her and helped her to sit. I’d cut Dalton’s hair and knew how to do it, but I could not comprehend why she’d want to look like a man now that there was no longer a need for it.

“Why on earth would you cut your hair?” I asked, combing through her thick locks. “The color is so lovely, and it would be stunning long.”

“I like it short just like I like wearing breeches,” she quipped.

I rolled my eyes and then pinned her with a stare in the mirror. “Alice, you can’t keep pretending you’re a man.”

“Who’s pretending?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I just don’t like long hair.”

Her gaze caressed my own hair, and then she added, “On me.”

Giving in, I snipped and trimmed and combed until her hair was as short as any man’s. I loved the feel of her soft, short hair. I even liked the incongruous hard lines of her face offset by those decidedly feminine lips.

“Belle,” she began, and my heart skipped a beat at her serious tone.

“Yes?”

“What we did last night… I’ve done it before,” she said softly. “With a woman.”

I wasn’t ready to hear about that. Women making love to other women…

That was not what I’d done. She merely comforted me when I was upset. Hadn’t she? “I don’t judge you,” I snapped. I sounded harsher than I’d intended.

“It’s why—” she began, but I quickly interrupted.

“Alice, it doesn’t matter. Not to me.” My cheeks burned with a blush, so I made a big pretense of putting the scissors away while she admired her reflection.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself or anyone else, but Alice did possess a very unique sort of beauty—a beauty that intrigued me. I swallowed. Hers was a dangerous, bold beauty that lured me to entertain sinful thoughts.

To want to know more about what she’d done with other women.

“Thank you, Belle,” she said, lifting her gaze to mine in the mirror.

Again, the look of desire shone in her eyes. My stomach turned a somersault, and I struggled with my own physical yearning to be touched again. Why hadn’t the one time sated me? My gaze flicked briefly to her lips, and I wondered what it would be like to feel them against my own, plying, pressing, kissing…

Blinking, I forced the lustful thoughts away and went to the chest of drawers. “You can’t go about the house in that nightgown, and if you’re opposed to wearing a dress, you might as well wear some of Dalton’s clothes.” My voice seemed higher pitched than usual, and I chattered as fast as a squirrel corned by a cat.

“There’s a belt in here somewhere,” I said, rummaging. I sounded nervous. “Ah, here it is.”

But when I gathered up the clothes and turned, I froze at the sight. Alice stood waiting, stark naked. It was an invitation—one I didn’t know if I was ready to accept.

Boldly, my eyes traveled down her body, lingering on her small breasts with their dark peach nipples and lower, down her lean torso to the sparse copse of dark auburn curls at the juncture of long, coltish legs. For someone who’d hidden herself from view for the past two years, she seemed terribly comfortable with her nudity now.

The bandage on her thigh appeared clean. At least she no longer bled. And when I saw that she continued to heal, my thoughts turned dark and lustful.

She cleared her throat, and my guilty gaze shot to hers. My stomach tensed. Her stormy eyes had grown dark. “Put the clothes on the bed, Belle.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t say a word. Instead, I did as Alice bade me. My pulse stampeded in my veins. Every hair on my body prickled.

The floorboards creaked when she took a step closer. “Pull up your skirts, and bend over the bed.”

I should refuse. I should walk away from this. It was one thing to allow her to touch me in the dark but quite another to submit to it in broad daylight—knowing she’d been with a woman before—knowing I’d gladly be with her again.

Anticipation thrummed through my veins as I gathered my skirts higher and higher. Alice moved in behind me. “Bend over, Belle,” she whispered as she arranged my skirts with care.

Air wafted in through the slit in my drawers. I trembled as she braced one hand on the base of my spine.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” she said, the hint of her brogue evident.

Walk away. Don’t submit to this
. I inched my feet farther apart. Alice voiced her approval as she worked her hand into the slit of my pantalets. Heat radiated from her hand when she cupped my mound. I quivered and spread my thighs even more. Already, my channel grew damp awaiting her invasion.

I bit my bottom lip.

Alice tickled my wanton flesh with her fingertips. “Tell me what you want.” One of her fingers prodded my opening. I pushed back, wanting the digit inside me, but a sudden smack on my bottom made me yelp.

Heat blazed through my backside. Immediately, rage filled me, but when her hand plunged into my drawers again, my fury melted. “Now, tell me what you want,” Alice ground out.

“Y-your finger,” I stammered. I dropped my head down on the mattress, exposing my bottom even more. How could I submit to this reckless sort of thing with such willful abandon?

A sigh of delight escaped my lips when she gave me what I’d asked for. Her finger thrust into my sheath. Liquid pooled in my channel and then trickled down one of my thighs.

“Do you want two fingers?” Her voice was rough. Hoarse. “Do you want it to feel like a man fucking you?”

“Yes.”

A second finger joined the first, stretching me to capacity. I cried out at the curious sensation of pleasure mingled with pain. I thrived on it. I loved it. I wanted more. “Harder,” I heard myself say.

I was totally at her mercy, bent and spread for her and more than willing to allow her to assault my cunny with her fingers. She controlled me, and the surrender I experienced at giving myself over to her completely vindicated me. Absolved me. It swept me away from the trials and worries that plagued me. “Harder, Alice,” I managed through gritted teeth.

“Damn, Belle. You’re wet.”

She worked her fingers harder and faster than Dalton had ever dreamed of fucking me. I debated begging her to stop. The words hung on my tongue, but I forced myself to take it. I wanted to take it. At that moment, I would have done anything Alice asked of me for the pleasure I would receive at her hand.

“Do you like my fingers up your hot little cunny?” Alice asked.

When I didn’t immediately answer, her palm found my ass cheek again. The sting burned and then melted into a delicious throb. I yelped and moaned. “Yes, yes!”

The hand that had so recently popped my bottom tangled into my chignon. She pulled my head up with unthinking force. I cried out—louder than I should have. The fingers between my legs pistoned me relentlessly. Arching, I clawed at the covers. My knees quaked. I’d never been dominated like this.

I loved it.

As soon as I surrendered, violent spasms racked me from the inside out. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out again. My channel clenched in frenzied convulsions around Alice’s fingers. I spiraled, soaring on the sensual sensations emanating from my loins.

Alice’s intrusion slowed and gentled. She released my hair. How did she know I’d quickened? I wilted over the bed, luxuriating in the heavy sexual satisfaction pulsating through me.

She cupped me and caressed my sex, working her fingers through my swollen nether lips as if she were in love with that part of me. A jolt shot through my loins when she rubbed a drenched fingertip over my throbbing clitoris. I let out a whimper.

Alice chuckled softly and patted my ass. “Help me get these breeches on.”

Unable to speak, I nodded. I’d never felt so awkward and aroused and confused around a nude woman before. Shaking, I stood, letting my skirts fall back into place. Although my clothes now concealed my body and no one would know what I’d just allowed another woman to do to me, my damp pantalets rubbed against my thighs, an ever-present reminder of a stolen, secret moment of sin.