Dorothy Garlock (27 page)

Annie Lash was made to know all the need and power of this large woodsman whom she had come to love so passionately. His large hands closed over her buttocks and held them while his body pressed into hers as if he were trying to draw her into himself. She felt the thunderous beating of his heart against her naked breast and heard his hoarse, murmured cries in her ear.

It was magic! A stunning, beautiful bloom of glorious rapture that made her respond with a fierce ardor matching his. When the explosion came it was so consuming that it was frightening. A bursting, shattering, uncontrollable release and they went sailing out over the world together.

The hands that had so expertly guided her hips now moved to either side of her and relieved her limp body of part of his crushing weight. His mouth moved tenderly over her throbbing lips and she gave quick answer, returning warm, fleeting kisses. He eased himself from between her legs and shifted to lie beside her. Annie Lash rolled onto her side to face him and he smoothed her rumpled hair and traced his mouth along the curve of her cheek, tasting the clean fragrance that seemed so much a part of her. There was a silent claim of possession in the way her hand moved to his hip and remained there.

“What was it, love?” she whispered against his chin.

“Did you like it?”

“It was beautiful. How could I not have liked it? But I still don’t know what happened to me.”

“The Indians say it’s a gift from the gods, and that each time it happens, you give up a part of yourself.” Jeff’s lips parted and played on hers as he replied.

“It was just that way with me. I gave a part of myself to you. It was so wonderful—I could feel you all through me; in my hands, my feet, my stomach. The tip of you touched my very soul,” she whispered.

“Ah . . . sweetheart.”

They lay silently for long moments, simply holding each other, awed by what had happened to them.

When Jeff spoke he placed the tip of his nose to hers. “How does it feel to belong so completely to a . . . jackass?” he asked with a rich chuckle.

She remembered, vividly, calling him that the night he told her he had decided to marry her.

“You deserved that!” She laughed softly, lightly, nibbling at his chin, touching it with her tongue. “Why did you let me think you were such a cold, unfeeling man?”

“It was my defense against you, you vixen. I was thinking about you too much, my eyes could scarcely move away from you. I resented it.”

“And now?” Her fingers moved across his belly where the skin was smooth and taut. He held his breath as she traced the thin line of downy hair down from the light furring on his chest, and again the coals of passion were fanned and flamed.

“Now . . . you’re mine!” His open mouth sought her lips, parted them, twisting, devouring, as if he couldn’t get enough of her dewy sweetness. Their breaths merged and became one. His hand moved downward, capturing the soft fullness of a breast before his mouth followed. Annie Lash caught her breath as the wild, sweet pleasure consumed her again. She lost her last touch on reality when his hands slipped beneath her hips, lifting her to him, and again they tasted the full joy of passion.

Much later she lay on his chest, her cheek resting against his shoulder. They were silent and awed by the bliss they had found together. She lay nestled in his arms. Jeff’s fingers brushed the soft tangled curls around her ears and his kisses ventured along the smooth whiteness of her face.

A long sigh escaped her. “I suppose I should go back to my room.”

“Not yet,” he breathed against her ear. “Stay till dawn. Let me hold you while I sleep.”

She tilted her face so her lips might meet his, and their mouths played with tender warmth.

“Will you be able to sleep if I’m here? This bunk wasn’t built for two.”

“I’ll sleep.” His mouth became insistent.

“I’ll stay.” Her voice was muffled beneath his kisses.

Climbing up from the depth of sleep, Jeff came awake instantly. He raised his head and listened, identified the sounds of Henry and Jute doing the morning chores, and relaxed upon the pillow. For a brief haunting moment when he woke, he had feared that he had dreamed it all. But then he felt her soft, warm body entwined with his and the memory of her passionate responses fanned the flame of love in his heart. Her effect on him was total and complete. She had brought something into his life that he hadn’t realized existed, an all-consuming love that went beyond the gratification of his physical needs. She had filled his heart since the day they buried Zan when she had stood proudly, defiantly, and declared she wanted to love and be loved, that she wanted to put all her thoughts, toil, smiles, pain, and love into her future family.

The fragrance of her filled his brain. Her lovely, curving form nestled close against him; a warm, soft thigh snug between his, an arm flung out across his chest. Gently, he kissed her, urging her to wake as he spoke her name. She moaned sleepily, her arm moving up from his chest to encircle his neck. His mouth lightly caressed her softly parted lips.

“Wake up, Annielove. I’ve got to get up,” he murmured. “God knows I don’t want to leave you.”

Annie Lash opened her eyes and then closed them, bathing in the peace of her contentment. A long sigh escaped her.

“Do you feel different this morning?” she whispered drowsily.

“I feel like someone just handed me the world by the tail.”

“Me, too. I feel like I’ve just been born.”

He chucked softly. “I guess you know that I’ll never let you go to bed without me again.”

She drew him to her as his kisses came upon her mouth, warm, devouring, fierce with love and passion, then traveled lower to spread their heat over her quivering breasts.

“I thought you had to get up,” she teased.

“You make it impossible, love.”

Passion spread in the heat of their touch. His caresses were searching, and Annie Lash opened her legs to his questing hand. His wandering fingers brought soft, breathless whimpers of trembling joy from her. She felt the tip of his rigid sex seeking the opening between her legs, and then the flame was within her, consuming, searing, setting fire to every nerve, filling her with unbearable pleasure. His heart beat wildly against her naked breast, and beneath her hands the hard muscles of his back tensed and flexed as the warm, sweet wetness of her surrounded him. She heard harsh breathing in her ear, and hoarse, whispered words of love as they rode the high, swelling tide of rapture to fulfillment.

They lay resting in the aftermath of their sweet storm; peacefully content, legs entwined, fingers gently interlaced in a knot of love. Jeff’s lips nibbled at the soft flesh of her shoulder, paused to take her earlobe in his mouth.

The corners of her mouth curved softly. “I don’t feel one bit guilty about what we’ve done, and I thought I would without the parson saying the words.”

He smoothed her tumbled hair and nuzzled his face into its fragrant mass, breathing in the sweet scent of her. “I want to take you inside me so I can take you with me wherever I go. This feeling of peace you give me is strange. What is this gift you carry around with you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Peace and contentment. I find it when I’m with you.”

“I’m glad,” she whispered. “I’m so glad.”

“I love you,” Jeff whispered. “I just wish old Zan knew how much I love you and that you’ll always be with me.”

“I think he knows.” Her hand caressed his lean ribs before moving to his muscled waist. “I think the minute he saw you in my house on the Bank, he decided you were the man for me.”

“And?” he urged.

“And he was right.” The words came on a soft, trembling breath, and she nestled closer.

*  *  *

Will, frustrated and angry, opened the gate to allow the three horsemen to pass through. The stormy session had began at sunup. Will argued against Jeff riding out alone to meet his brother. Finally, Jeff had agreed to take Henry and Jute with him, knowing it was one way to keep Will from going to meet Jason. He would not leave the women unprotected at the homestead.

The three men rode out down the lane toward the Cornicks as the sun rose above the treetops. Jeff looked back and saw Annie Lash standing in the yard waving to him. His face gentled. Annie Lash—calm and beautiful in her faded dress. His life had changed so drastically since she came into it. She could not guess the depth of his feeling for her. It surprised even him.

Jute moved out ahead, the old wolf-dog slinking through the underbrush by his side. When the trail widened, Henry moved up beside Jeff.

“Mista Jason ain’t gon’ ta be likin’ ta see me’n Jute, Mista Jeff. He gon’ ta be ’memberin’ how hit was ’fore he went.”

“And how was that, Henry?”

“Miz Callie, she comed to da shack wid Mista Amos. Mista Jason had don whopped dat child wid da strap, ’n Miz Callie, too. He comed ta git ’er, ’n I hol’ ’em off wid da gun. Miz Callie, she stay two day ’til Jute follow Mista Jason ’n know he ain’t comin’ back. He gon be powerful mad when he see me’n Jute.” A worried frown etched the black man’s visage.

“Don’t worry about it. You and Jute are free men. I bought your papers from Jason and had them recorded. He has no claim on you, and if he has any brains at all he’ll not mention that his wife and child had to seek your protection.” His words were sharp and angry.

“Yas’suh. Jute would’a don kilt Mista Jason when he seed dat child, if’n not fer you, Mista Jeff.”

“I’ll handle Jason. He won’t whip Callie or Amos again. I promise you that.” His tone and his angry face marked the end of the conversation.

They passed the Cornick homestead with only a wave to Biedy. An hour later, Jute rode back to say that Jason and his party had passed the cabins of the new homesteaders. Jeff decided to wait and let the party approach him. He chose a place near the river, dismounted, and turned the horse over to Henry to water. He told Henry and Jute to stay out of sight and sat down on a log to wait.

He heard the party approaching long before he saw them, and marveled at their stupidity. High, almost feminine, foppish laughter carried on the slight breeze to where Jeff sat waiting. It was not his brother’s laugh, but the deeper tones that accompanied it were, and Jeff tried to curb his anger, tried to remember this spoiled, selfish man was also the son of his mother.

They saw him immediately and Jeff had to give the fop credit for quickly drawing his firearm, but after a few murmured words from Jason, he tucked it back into his belt. Jeff had plenty of time to study them. Jason looked just the same in his fine coat and silk shirt with the broad ascot looped under his chin. A three-cornered feathered hat sat on his blond head at a jaunty angle. The man with him was dressed equally as fine. Both men wore polished, black boots and rode good horses. Trailing behind them was a black man, dressed in servant livery, leading one mule and riding another. If Jeff hadn’t been so angry, he would have laughed at the sight of the ridiculous procession here in the wilderness.

Jason Pickett was a much handsomer man than his brother. His features were not so rugged and his frame not so large. His hair was more the color of ripe wheat than pure blond, and he wore it fashionably long and clubbed. He was witty, charming, and preferred to talk rather than to fight. He spurred his horse ahead, and when he reached Jeff, he swung down and came toward him, a huge smile on his face, his hand extended.

“Jefferson! How are you, brother?”

Jeff stood and stretched himself up to his full height before his fist lashed out and caught Jason on his smiling mouth, dropping him to the ground. He glanced up to see the fop jerk his gun from his belt, but before he could react, Jute sprang into view, his musket in his hand and the old wolf-dog, hunkered down and snarling, at his side. Jeff turned his attention back to Jason, who was picking himself up off the ground, retrieving his hat, and dabbing at his mouth with a cloth.

“Now, why’d you do tha—”

Jeff hit him again, and he staggered back several paces before he fell heavily. This time Jeff followed him and fastened his hand in the front of his coat and hauled him to his feet. He shook him viciously before he gave him a powerful shove that sent him rolling in the dirt again.

“You worthless scum!” he shouted angrily. “I should beat you to death for what you did to Callie and that boy! Consider yourself lucky we have the same mother or I’d kill you here and now.”

Jason stumbled to his feet, his lip cut and bleeding, his eyes blazing with hatred. He picked up his hat and jammed it down on his head; his face was crimson with embarrassment and anger.

“Is she still hanging around?” he sneered.

“Where did you think she’d be when you left her here alone? Did you hope she and the boy wouldn’t make it through the winter and you’d be free of your responsibilities?” Jeff’s narrowed eyes watched his brother, saw the glance exchanged between him and the man still mounted on the horse, saw the effort he was making to control his temper.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said after a while. “She left me to go stay with the blacks and I thought she wasn’t coming back. You know I was forced by her pa and her brothers to marry her, Jefferson.”

“I know that, and I also know why you were forced into marrying her, but that’s no reason for you to treat her the way you have. You took your pleasure of her quick enough.”

“I want to see my boy,” Jason said, and looked his brother directly in the eye. “I’ve a right to see my boy.”

“You lost any right to that boy when you whipped him so hard it left marks all over him!”

“Ah, come on, Jefferson. What’s that backwoods slut been telling you? All kids need a taste of the strap. You ought to know, the old man gave it to you often enough.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I don’t want you here, Jason. I don’t think I can stand looking at you every day, even for the sake of our mother.”

“I want to see the boy,” Jason said stubbornly. “I want to see Callie, too. Hartley and I will stay out of your way. We’re working up a deal to bring a fleet of keelboats up from New Orleans. Right now we’re looking at likely locations for landing stations.”