Read Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] Online
Authors: With Hope
Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers] (41 page)
BOOK: Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]
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She knew that she should be shocked by his suggestions, but she wasn’t. His husky whispers reached her on some instinctive level long suppressed. Adrift on a sea of arousal, she wanted only to love and to comfort this wonderfully compassionate man with the dark, worried face beneath a thatch of wild black hair.
“What better place, my love, than here where we first declared our love,” she whispered, wondering how she dared be so bold. Once she began to tell him how she felt, it was easier to go on. “I want you to love me . . . make me yours. It could be all we’ll ever have—”
“Sweetheart! Don’t tempt me!” He made a sound of urgent longing, deep in his throat. “The past few weeks have been hell. I’ve got to be where you are. Otherwise, there’s no life for me.”
“I love you.”
With great suddenness, Henry Ann felt the cool grass beneath her back. They were lying on their sides and he was holding her tightly in his arms, his hands moving over her back and hips, pressing her closer. Then his callused fingers were pushing aside the bodice of her dress and his hands closed around her naked breasts, his fingers stroking their taut rosy nipples.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, rubbing his face between the soft mounds. When his mouth trailed a fiery path down her throat to her breast and closed on the nipple, the rough, seeking touch of his tongue set delicious quivers throughout her melting flesh.
“Please . . . please—” She tugged on his shaggy hair to bring his mouth up to hers.
“You don’t know how I’ve hungered for a taste of you, the feel of you. Oh, sweet woman, I’ve dreamed of this—” His hands were under her dress, sliding up her legs to her hips, encountering brief panties which he thrust down, and she was open to his seeking fingers. “Sweetheart . . . I want to love you, join with you—Tell me . . . I can—”
His fingers caressed her, then eased inside. It felt so maddeningly good. She moaned and arched into them.
“Yes, yes! Please—”
In a daze of joy and unbelief she felt the tip of his eager manhood on the very center of her body. A narrow flame of pleasure begin to flicker. The flickering went on and on. Then she was stabbed with a needle point of pain that so resembled pleasure that she ignored it until finally it was no longer pain but an ecstasy so profound that she thought she would dissolve.
“Sweet, marvelous woman,” Tom muttered thickly from the depths of his own careening world. He was riding the crest of the wildest passion he had ever known. Gently, with great restraint, he widened their magical circle of pleasure, taking her until she was drowning in wild, furious delight.
She felt his hard, muscular body halt and wince. She heard the cry that tore from him, and she caressed him in his trembling as he said her name with a sobbing breath, over and over. Then he lifted his body on quivering arms and lowered himself beside her.
Holding her tightly to him, Tom realized that only her physical warmth pressed to him and the familiar lemony scent of her hair could convince him that it had not been just a dream. If he had hoped for anything, it had not been the swift and honest way which she had given herself to him. He held her, kissing her face and mouth, waiting for their heartbeats and breaths to return to normal.
Suddenly a shout came from the back of the house.
“Fire! Fire! Tom, your place is . . . on FIRE!”
“FIRE!”
Henry Ann and Tom shot to their feet. Tom ran out into the open and saw the rosy glow in the sky.
Emmajean!
“Oh, God! Don’t let her die in a fire!”
“Oh, God! Don’t let her die in a fire!”
“Tom, we’re coming! We’re loading the car with shovels and buckets,” Johnny yelled.
Tom didn’t hear Johnny or Henry Ann telling him to hurry. He took off running down the fence row that separated the woods from the cotton field. He ran until his breathing rasped harshly in his ears and his heart was pounding like a tom-tom. He felt as if he had a hundred-pound weight attached to each foot. The weight on his feet was no heavier than the weight of guilt he carried for having left the defenseless woman alone.
Crossing the pasture, his lungs on fire, he bounded over the rail fence and into the feedlot. He rounded the barn and skidded to a halt.
The real horror of it struck Tom when he saw the angry flames leaping from the front of the house and lighting the sky. The dry wood of the frame house crackled and popped, sending sparks flying high in the air. Hope sprang anew when he realized the back room was still intact even though smoke poured from the windows.
He jerked off his shirt and dipped it in the horse tank as he passed it. Draping the dripping wet cloth over his head, he dashed through the back door and was stopped by a wall of hissing furious flames. Smoke burned his eyes. When he saw an opening, he dashed through it and found himself in the small room next to the kitchen.
“Emma . . . jean! Emma . . . jean!” he yelled through the wet cloth that covered his face except for his eyes.
The room was lighted by the flames, but the smoke was so thick he couldn’t see. He got down on his knees and crawled to the bed. When he reached it, he felt blindly for a human body.
The bed was smooth, the sheet thrown back. She wasn’t there!
“Emma . . . jean!”
Common sense told him that she might have rolled off the bed. He circled it on his knees, waved his arms beneath it and felt nothing. Feeling the heat of the fire on his back, he looked up to see fingers of fire racing across the ceiling.
God, help me find her.
Suddenly the bed erupted in a ball of flames, forcing him back. He crawled toward the door leading to the kitchen and stood. The floor was on fire and burning his hands. The only way out was to burst through the solid wall of flames. He aimed toward the back door and leaped, hoping the floor would hold him. Fire seared his hands, arms, and naked back. Yet he charged on. Momentum kept him going even when he reached the back porch. He staggered down the step and out into the yard before he stumbled and fell.
“Here he is!” Someone shouted just before he was hit with a bucket of water. Nothing in his life had felt so good.
“Tom! Tom! We couldn’t find you.” Henry Ann was on her knees beside him. “Are you burned?”
“I couldn’t find her.” His raspy voice came from a throat raw from heat and smoke. “I couldn’t find her,” he said again.
“Come back away from the house,” Henry Ann urged. When he stood, she offered her support, but she didn’t know where to touch him. “Johnny and Grant are wetting down what they think the flames could reach. Grant has moved your car. Thank goodness there’s no wind.”
Tom tried to get into his wet shirt.
“I couldn’t find her,” he groaned. “Has anyone looked outside?”
“I’ll look for her. Let me see your hands first.”
“They’re all right.”
“Let me see.” She drew in a hurtful breath when she saw his blistered palms. “Karen,” she yelled. “I need cloth.”
“We don’t have time for this. I’ve got to find Emmajean.”
“This will take only a minute.”
Karen came with two neckerchiefs. Henry Ann dipped them in water and wrapped them around Tom’s hands.
Mr. Austin and his hired man arrived in the wagon. They tied the team up in the road. With wet gunnysacks, they helped to put out the flying sparks that would spread the fire to the dry grass.
Tom, Henry Ann, and Karen searched in vain for Emmajean, while the four men fought to keep the fire from spreading. By midnight the house had been reduced to a pile of glowing, smoking embers.
Tom was in agony from the burns on his hands and arms, but he couldn’t sit and rest as the others urged him to do.
“She could be scared and hiding someplace.”
“You said she was calmer than she’d been in days, Tom. Maybe she woke up and ran off.”
And maybe she went to the front of the house and was overcome by smoke.
Grant knew about the guilt Tom was feeling. He also knew that he had to work through that guilt by himself.
And maybe she went to the front of the house and was overcome by smoke.
Grant knew about the guilt Tom was feeling. He also knew that he had to work through that guilt by himself.
“I shouldn’t have left her, knowing she was out of her mind.”
“How were you to know something like this could happen?” Karen said. “Do you have any idea how it could have started?”
“None. It could have come from the cookstove, I guess.”
“If that were the case, the kitchen would have burned first. When we got here the front of the house was burning. What do you think, Mr. Austin?” Grant asked.
“Makes sense. If you say the front burned first, someone must’ve started it.”
“I left the lantern on the front porch, and it was out.” Tom walked restlessly back and forth.
“I can vouch for that. It was out when you came to the car,” Johnny said. “I went up to get a new string I’d bought for the guitar and just happened to look out the window. The fire had a good start by the time we got here.”
“Tom, come home with us and let Aunt Dozie tend to those burns. You can come back at daylight. You’ll have a better chance of finding her then.”
Henry Ann wanted more than anything to hold him and comfort him. She knew that he loved her, but she also knew that he was an honorable man and that he felt responsible for the pitiful creature he was married to and who was the mother of his child.
“I’ll stay here, Tom,” Johnny said. “Grant will take you and the girls back to the house.”
“You should get those burns taken care of,” Karen urged.
Tom finally agreed, then spoke to Mr. Austin. “Thanks for your help.”
“It’s what neighbors should do. If there’s anything else, let us know.”
Aunt Dozie was up and making bread when they reached the house.
“Aunt Dozie,” Henry Ann said. “It’s two o’clock in the morning!”
“I knows it. I jist can’t sit an wait. I got to be doin’ somethin. Is de fire out?”
“The house burned to the ground. Tom’s hands are burned.”
Dozie looked at the big man standing hesitantly in the doorway.
“Lawsy! ’Pears more’n his hands is burned. Come sit yoreself down right here. We gonna take care yo right now.”
Karen went to the car with Grant as he prepared to leave.
“You think she’s dead, don’t you?” It seemed natural for her to stand close to him and rest her head on his shoulder.
“Yes. He said that she’d been really out of her head for the past few days. He hesitated about leaving her. He’s in love with Henry Ann. Poor son of a gun. I understand his wanting to be with her, because I could hardly wait for today so I could be with you.”
“Why, Mr. Gifford—”
“No wisecracks. I’m going to kiss you.”
“It’s about time.”
“I’ve waited all day.”
“Then you’d better get at it. It’ll be daylight in about three hours.”
With gentle hands he pulled her around to face him. Every bone in her body turned to jelly when his arms closed about her. She lifted her parted lips for his kiss. His mouth was warm and gentle and gave her room to move away if she wanted to. Karen found herself clinging to him weakly. His hands moved seductively across her hips and back, tucking her closer to him. Her mind felt like it was floating.
Grant drew back and looked into her face.
“You shouldn’t kiss me like that unless you mean it,” she gasped.
“I mean it.” He lifted first one of her arms and then the other and placed them around his neck. “Indulge me. I want to kiss you with your arms around my neck.” He pressed a sweet kiss to her moist lips
“Was it as good as you thought it would be?”
“Better. I wish I didn’t have to go, but I think I should go into town and put in a call for the sheriff. It’ll look better for Tom if it’s done right away.”
“Why? They can’t think that he set the fire.”
“They might think that he was trying to get rid of his wife because . . . well, because he wanted Henry Ann.”
“He was here when the fire started.”
“True. But it won’t stop people from speculating. The sheriff will want to find the body or what’s left of it. Bodies don’t burn up completely, you know.”
“Go, then. But . . . come back.”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He kissed her again, longer, harder, deeper. This time when he lifted his head his heart was beating like that of a runaway horse. “I never expected to meet someone like you.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“What do you think?” He took her hand and placed it palm down over his heart. “This is a new beginning for me. I need to tell you about my past and my hope for the future.”
“I’m not interested in your future if you plan to move on.”
“I’ve gone as far as I’m going . . . alone.”
“I’m glad your roaming feet brought you this way, Grant Gifford.”
“Not as glad as I am, Karen Wesson.”
BOOK: Dorothy Garlock - [Dolan Brothers]
13.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
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