Indigo (12 page)

Galen searched her frank eyes, and replied truthfully, "No, Indigo, I don't. . ." The urge to raise his fingers and trace the sweet blackberry curve of her lips roared through Galen with such force it almost blazed past his defenses. To distract himself he asked, "Surely, you did girl things for fun—played with dolls, made mud pies?"

She laughed. "Mud pies?! Have you any idea what my aunt would've done had I come home covered with river mud? No Galen, I had a few dollies, but I've never played in mud in my life."

"Then let's go make mud pies!" he yelled, snatching her by the hand. Before Hester could protest she found herself being pulled down the bluff in his wake.

Laughing, she yelled, "But I don't want to make mud pies!"

He didn't ease his pace, or his hold on her captured hand.

"Galen?!" she called over her giggles. "You can't make me make mud pies against my—will!"

The last word was a laugh-filled scream as Hester reacted to being scooped up into Galen's arms. She came to rest cradled against his broad chest, her hands around his neck. He stared down into her startled face and said, "Now, you were saying?"

Hester blinked and wondered if she would ever breathe again. Because of her scrambled brains, all she could think to say was, "You're going to reinjure your ankle . . ."

"I've carried birds that weigh more than you."

He was so near and so overpowering, Hester could feel herself on the verge of fainting for the very first time in her life. His hot nearness seemed to have burned away the fabric of her blouse. "You must put me down," she told him in a voice far softer and more strangled than she'd intended.

"Are you going to come make mud pies with me or not?"

For the life of her, Hester couldn't speak. She couldn't believe how hard her heart was pounding. She knew agreeing would undoubtedly alter her life forever, but she said, "Yes."

He eased her to her feet, took her indigo hand again, and said, "Let's go."

Disagreement flared as soon as they reached the river's edge. Hester refused to take off her shoes. Galen, in the process of removing his own boots and socks, stopped and said, "Hester, you have to take off your shoes."

"Galen, I am not removing my shoes. I don't know where you were raised, but that's a bit risqué for me."

"I'm not asking you to remove your chemise,
petite,
just those brogans on your feet." The boots were scuffed and old. He doubted he'd ever seen an uglier pair of shoes on a woman in his life.

In her mind, Hester formed a brazen image of herself willingly removing her chemise in response to his imagined heated request. She shook herself free. "My shoes stay on."

Galen said, "You are the contrariest woman I have ever met."

Hester snorted. "Contrariest. What kind of word is contrariest. French?"

He grinned. "Be careful baby girl, I bite. I'll give you more French than you'll know what to do with."

The heat in his eyes made her heart race even faster than before. "What on earth does that mean?"

"You're the one laughing at my vocabulary, you tell me.

Hester felt as if she'd just walked into a wolf's den, and it was the most tantalizing and forbidding place she'd ever entered.

"Now," he said coaxingly, "take off your shoes please, or so help me, I will come over there and kiss you so long and deep, those ugly little brogans will melt from your feet."

Hester swayed on legs suddenly turned to sand. "You are incorrigible..."

"And this is only the beginning..." he promised her.

Hester removed her shoes and once she was barefoot, she felt so out of her element, she hesitated to join him at the river's edge. The years of stomping raw indigo plants had stained her feet far more heavily than her hands. Her feet were purple all the way past her ankles. "Galen, this is very embarrassing for me."

"I won't let it be. There's not a portion of your body that isn't beautiful, Hester Wyatt."

It was the second time today he'd referred to her as beautiful. She had no idea how to react to such a comment; no one had ever described her in those terms before.

Encouraged by his patience though, Hester stood, and as she did, the sweeping movement of her skirt's hem revealed her bare feet. No man had seen her feet bare since she'd come north and began wearing shoes.

Galen smiled. "Now, is that so bad? You have lovely little purple toes."

Hester glanced down at her feet. "A real gentleman would not make mention of a lady's bare feet," she said with mock rebuke.

"A real lady wouldn't be out in her bare feet."

Her reaction, an offended-sounding gasp, made him laugh aloud. He told her, "I'm sorry, but you're so prim sometimes it's hard not to tease you. You need more fun in your life,
petite
Indigo, and I'm here at your service. Now come on over here and play with me."

In spite of Hester's initial misgivings, she did have fun. She and Galen sat on the river's edge and made mud pies and castles complete with bridges and moats. He taught her how to skip stones and call to the ducks on the river. They looked at clouds, dug for pirate gold, and fed on one another's smiles. When the sun began its slow slide below the horizon, they both knew the time had come to head back. They'd been at the river all day.

Hester couldn't decide who was the filthiest; they were both covered with mud. "This is all your fault, you know," she scolded him with mock severity.

"Guilty as charged," he replied. Galen regretted he would not be able to invite her into his bath and slide a bar of scented soap over her ebony body until she was clean. He felt his arousal awaken in response to the imagined scenario and decided they should probably head back to the house before he broke his vow to leave her untouched. It was the hardest vow he'd undertaken in quite some time; he only hoped he didn't break it in the few days he had remaining.

Back at the house, while Galen hauled in water for hot baths, Hester set about getting them something to eat. The lateness of the day made a real dinner impossible, but she did have the remains of Branton Hubble's ham and plenty of bread. They ate sandwiches and drank coffee while the water heated.

Hester looked across the table and said truthfully, "I had fun today, Galen. Thank you."

"Just a way of showing my appreciation for all you've done for me."

"Do you really think I need more fun in my life?" she asked with all seriousness.

"Yes, I believe you do. Life is too short to be so serious."

Hester thought about the political upheaval gripping the country and said, "These are serious times."

"Yes, they are, which is why it's important to seek out humor and beauty whenever possible. If we don't, we'll all be buried beneath the weight of the misery."

"Philosophy, Galen?"

"No,
petite.
Truth."

After the large cauldrons of water heated, Galen hauled them up to the attic room to fill the big tub. When he returned downstairs, he pumped more water for Hester's bath and set it back atop the stove to heat.

Hester was reluctant to end the day. Her eyes settled on his firm, full mouth a moment. How would it be to be kissed by him, she wondered. She could still recall the dizzying sensations of being held against his strong chest, and how his arm supporting her thighs burned her flesh. Her gaze rose to meet his.

He told her, "You shouldn't look at me that way."

"Which way?" she asked.

"Like you want to be kissed..."

She reeled inwardly, then fought off the desire to succumb to the temptation in his frank eyes. She said instead, "You should go on up to your bath before the water cools. I'll read while my water heats."

Galen was just as reluctant to leave. He wanted to stay with her and relish these last few days. He'd said nothing to her about his departure, but he knew he did not have much time left to bask his weary soul in the healing pleasure of her company. "Will you need help carrying the water? I can come back down when I'm done."

Shaken by all this, she shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary, I've hauled water all my life. I'll be fine."

"Then I will say goodnight."

"Goodnight, Galen. I'll see you in the morning."

Hester very rarely bathed in her bedroom. Her aunt Katherine always considered it far more sensible to bathe in the kitchen, where one could take advantage of the warmth generated by the cauldrons of water heating atop the stove. Hester found the idea practical as well, so when the water finally became hot enough to use, she set aside her reading, the latest issue of William Lloyd Garrison's
Liberator,
and began the preparations. She took a moment to douse all the candles on the main floor, then tipped upstairs to get her toiletries and a clean gown to sleep in. She retrieved the hip tub from the storeroom connected to the warm, steam-filled kitchen. After filling the tub, she turned down the lamps in the kitchen to their lowest wicks and removed her clothes. The small hip tub was not-large enough to lounge in as Galen had undoubtedly done in the tub upstairs; this one, white, and decorated with fat red roses, was only high enough to reach one's thighs when standing, and only deep enough and wide enough for the bather to master the stooping position needed to rinse clean.

Hester had never known the luxury of dawdling over her personal habits, so after scrubbing herself clean with the serviceable unscented soap, she stooped to rinse, then stepped out.

The kitchen door swung open.

Her startled eyes widened at the sight of Galen. It took her only a flash of a second to snatch up her drying sheet and haphazardly shield herself, but it was too late. He'd seen more than enough.

She gasped, heart pounding, "What are you doing in here?!"

"Well, I came down here for a few more slices of that ham—"

"You're supposed to be sleep!"

"And you're supposed to be in your bedroom, not down here ...nude..."

His voice instantaneously brought her scrambled thoughts back to her barely covered state. "Turn around, dammit," she scolded.

She didn't know which infuriated her more, the eyebrow he raised in response or the smoky, spellbinding grin.

"Dammit?" he asked questioningly. "When did you start using words like, dammit?"

"When I'm as angry as I am now. Turn around!"

Galen chuckled, but turned his back. "You're very beautiful you know."

Hester nastily began to dry herself. "I don't wish to hear that from you, Galen."

"Why not?"

"Because I think you probably say those words quite easily, and far too often."

He chuckled again. "You're wrong. I'm actually very discriminating."

She snorted and bent to dry her still-damp legs and feet, keeping a pointed eye on his back the whole while. "If you turn around, I swear, I will never feed you again."

His responding laugh filled the shadows. "Now that is a very serious threat,
petite,
so I solemnly promise to remain still as marble." Galen had come downstairs for something to eat and instead stumbled upon the sweetest treat of all. The sight of her, nude against the soft light, her body wet from her bath, stunned him. His arousal had been instantaneous. Who would have thought she would be even more beautiful than he'd ever imagined? Not even his most vivid fantasies could have conjured up such dark sable breasts, or the succulent curve of her ebony bottom. His hands ached to slowly bring those silken breasts to his lips and pleasure them until the nipples hardened like jewels. He wanted to taste her kiss, brush his caresses over the flare of her hips, and teach her things she'd never dreamed possible. He shook himself and forced himself to entertain more calming thoughts; his passionate musings were taking him down a path with no end.

Meanwhile, Hester struggled into her gown. After doing up the line of hooks and fat ribbons which ran neck to waist down the front of the rough muslin garment, she said to Galen, "You may turn around now."

Galen turned, took one look at her trussed up like a Sunday chicken in that ugly, high-necked gown, and laughed and laughed until he cried.

Hester stood there with her hand on her hip, wondering if he had truly lost his mind. "What is so funny?"

When Galen could catch his breath, he wiped at his eyes and said, "You, my
petite
Indigo. Where did you get that awful gown? I've seen meal in better sacks than that."

The smart of humiliated tears stung Hester's eyes. The barb hurt, especially in light of the good time they'd shared that day. She could feel her chin tighten, and swore she would pluck her eyes out before letting him see her cry. The gown was not fashionable, but it served her well.

Galen's smile died as he watched her whole manner go cold. He realized he'd hurt her feelings—very badly if her chin were any indication. She looked so devastated he whispered, "Oh darling . . . I'm sorry."

Galen quickly crossed the room and very gently placed his fingers beneath her chin. He raised it so he could look down into her hurt eyes. "Forgive me," he entreated softly. "I have a vicious tongue sometimes, but I never meant to use it on you."