The Stranger's Secrets (6 page)

The very reason Sarah opened up her home as a boardinghouse was for protection in numbers. Women alone were easy pickings. It was how she found Vickie so long ago, at the mercy of some ex-soldier who found raping women more pleasurable than treating them like human beings.

Sarah was as tough as nails, inside and out. Except, it seemed, when it came to one Yankee named Whitman Kendrick. He made her nervous, jittery, and aroused all at once. If she was smart, she’d find a way to get him out of her compartment.

Yet she hadn’t, and somewhere deep inside, she knew she wouldn’t. And that bothered her more than anything.

Whitman made her remember what it was like to be out of control, something she definitely didn’t want. She was helpless to stop it.

He sat there watching her as the countryside flew past the windows. She tried to concentrate on the book but gave up when she read the same page eight times. Then she tried to take a nap, but even with her eyes closed, she could feel his gaze on her.

She reached her breaking point after an hour.

Sarah threw her arms up and gave up the battle trying to ignore him. “What is so interesting about me that you feel the urge to stare at me?”

Whitman started as if her voice had jolted him out of a trance. At first he looked surprised and his mouth dropped open. He adjusted his jacket and sat up straighter.

“I wasn’t staring.”

Sarah barked out a laugh. “Damn right you were staring at me. Don’t bother trying to deny it.”

His surprise widened at her words.

“No ladies you know let loose and cuss? Well, too damn bad, because cussing is allowed in this compartment, like it or not.” She pointed at him, ignoring the slight tremor in her hand. “Are you going to stop staring at me?”

Whitman opened his mouth to answer, then, instead of speaking, started laughing. Gut-busting, knee-slapping laughing. Sarah couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d stripped himself naked and run from the train.

She expected him to act like a normal person, but he didn’t. Then again, she didn’t either. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons she was drawn to him.

“What’s so funny?”

When Whitman smiled at her, Sarah could have sworn the train jumped the tracks beneath her. She trembled at the impact. It was a beautiful, wide grin that lit up his entire face, hitting her with the fact that Whit was more than handsome—he was breathtakingly gorgeous.

“You are. I’ve never met someone who could surprise me, confound me, and keep me on my toes. You, Sarah Spalding, are amazing.”

His words washed over her like a warm waterfall on a cool day. Not many compliments had been thrown her way for a long time, certainly not from a handsome man. She tried to capture the moment, hold it as if it were a precious gem to put in her pocket and take out to admire again and again. Sarah didn’t believe herself to be a ninny or a scatterbrained fool. Men told women anything they wanted, which didn’t always mean the truth.

However, the sincerity in Whitman’s eyes, and her own instincts, made her want to believe him.

“Do you want some breakfast?” He pointed to the basket beside him on the seat. “Since I figured you didn’t have time to eat before we left the hotel, I had the waitress pack some food.”

This time it was Sarah’s turn to struggle for something to say. He was handsome, kind, and charming. Shit, Whitman was nearly perfect. She could fall in love with him.

Now she was more than scared—she was terrified. What she wanted to do was throw the basket and Whitman off the train. Instead, she retreated back into her shell.

“No, I’m not hungry. Thank you anyway.” Her traitorous stomach took that moment to yowl like a coyote.

Whitman cocked one dark eyebrow. “All right, then, if you do get hungry, I’ll set the basket next to you.”

It tortured her. The basket sat there innocently enough, the smell of biscuits and possibly bacon wafting toward her. Self-control was hard to maintain under the onslaught of such culinary delights.

Yet Sarah didn’t want Whitman to feel as though he was taking care of her. She would accept his help in leaving the train, and maybe getting to the hotel. But no more carrying her up the stairs and damn sure no more food.

And certainly no more kissing.

The thought trapped in her head, Sarah stopped herself before she reached for a biscuit.

Kissing?

Who’d been kissing whom? She hadn’t done any touching other than to hang on while the man carried her. There had been no kissing whatsoever.

Whether or not she’d dreamed of kissing him was another story. One she refused to even crack the cover of.

With a yowling stomach and a firm will, Sarah opened her book and tried to ignore the handsome, charming, considerate
Yankee
across from her.

Whitman dreamed of Sarah. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep but the lull of the train grew too much and he nodded off. It had been a rough night of thinking way too much, so it wasn’t any wonder he lost the battle with wakefulness.

She was standing on a hill, without a cane, near a huge tree whose arms spread at least thirty feet wide. The grass below her feet sparkled like emeralds in the bright sunshine while the whisper of the leaves spoke to the breeze caressing them.

The day was warm, but not overly so. He wore no jacket, just a white shirt and trousers, as he walked up the hill toward her. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content.

Sarah’s hair was unbound and fluttered in the light wind. The sun made the wavy brown locks shimmer with reds and golds, like a living work of art. It was, however, her smile that captivated him.

She’d been picking the petals from a perfect white daisy as he approached her. When she spotted him, her face lit up with a smile to rival the bright sunshine.

Whitman knew the smile was for him alone and his heart slammed against his ribs. She was beautiful, like a Madonna on the hill awaiting him.

“Whitman.” Her mouth moved but no sound came out. “Darling.”

Darling?

He tried to speak but found his mouth didn’t function. It felt heavy as if it were full of lead. The more he tried to talk the harder it became. She frowned and reached toward him, as clouds filled the sky, blocking out the sun.

The perfect day began to turn gray before his eyes. He tried to grab her hands, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get close enough to touch her.

Fear coated his tongue as the breeze turned into a whipping wind, making her white dress billow behind her. Her hair tangled in the branches as she was pushed backward by the force of the wind. She again called his name soundlessly and Whitman tried one last time to reach her.

That’s when the entire tree, along with Sarah, disappeared in front of his eyes. She was sucked into the mouth of a tornado, her mouth open in a silent scream.

“Sarah, no!” he shouted as he rose to his feet and reached for the wall of the train compartment.

Whitman glanced down into Sarah’s very amused face. The book she was reading was forgotten as a grin crept around the corners of her mouth.

“No, what?”

He sat back down quickly, embarrassment washing over him. What the hell had happened? He’d fallen asleep and had the most vivid dream of his life.

And Sarah had been the star.

“I, uh, thought I saw a spider.” The excuse felt as stupid as he did.

She nodded. “I appreciate your willingness to throw yourself in the path of the wicked spider to save me.”

This time her sarcasm wasn’t funny. His emotions were still swaying back and forth like a pendulum. His temper, which he’d tried to keep on a leash, let loose.

“You don’t always have to be such a bitch.”

Now she looked more than surprised—she looked hurt. Whitman immediately felt bad for snapping at her, but there was nothing he could do to change it. Sarah had a way of reminding him of what it meant to be a soldier. A life he intended on leaving behind in the East.

But he shouldn’t have hurt her.

“Sorry.” He blew out a breath and tried to calm his racing heart. With the dream of her, his emotions going from one end to the other, he could barely form a coherent thought.

She held up one hand. “I’ve heard much worse, been called even worse than that.”

Oh, but it did, and he could see it in her eyes, no matter how fast the shutters went down over them. Sarah wasn’t as tough as the persona she showed the world. It changed his view of exactly who she was, or perhaps the dream had. Either way, Sarah Spalding was not the woman he thought he’d met yesterday.

“I’m still sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She scoffed, but it wasn’t particularly strong. Damn, he had hurt her. “You can’t hurt me, Whitman. I grew a thick skin long ago.”

Whitman chose his words carefully before speaking. “Regardless of what you say, your eyes tell me something different.” He took her hand, and a jolt of pure lightning jumped between them. “I’m sorry. You are not a bitch. You’re a funny, honest, intelligent woman who didn’t deserve to be called a name.”

For that, she apparently had no response. Instead she nodded and pulled her hand away, but not before Whit saw her swallow hard. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one suffering from confusing, unexpected emotions.

Sarah fished around in her bag for a new book. The one she had simply wasn’t keeping her interested. She wanted to blame it on her new traveling companion, but it wasn’t his fault.

She was the one lusting after him.

He leaned forward and pulled the bag out for her. “Here you go. That should make it easier.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, a bit grudgingly.

“You’re welcome.”

With a humph of impatience, she dug through the books until she found one of her favorites by Jane Austen. Much as she hated to admit it, she loved the way Austen’s books made her feel.

Hopeful.

There wasn’t much in Sarah’s life that she could call normal or enough to give her hope for the future. Reading one of Austen’s books helped her escape from that everyday rut.

“Jane Austen? She’s wonderful.” Whitman pointed to her book.

Sarah was more than surprised. “How do you know of Jane Austen?”

“I’ve read her books before, Sarah. I’m not a complete moron, you know. I do like to read.” He held up the book and Sarah remembered she’d seen him reading before.

“Oh, right.” Lame response to be sure, but it was the best she could do.

“Are these all your books?” He peered into her bag.

Sarah snapped it shut. “They are now.”

“You don’t have to talk to me, but I thought it would make the trip go easier.” Whitman put up his feet on the seat next to her. “I started collecting books when I was a boy. That’s when I moved to New York City. Since there wasn’t much green to look at and certainly no friends to play with, I turned to books.”

She stared at him, surprised by his admission.

“Now it’s your turn,” he prompted.

“For what?”

“To tell me about how you got started reading books. Engaging in conversation is what normal people do.” He looked at her expectantly.

“They were my father’s. H-he read to me when I was younger, taught me to read although it wasn’t common for daughters to have the same education as sons.” She shrugged. “He died and now they’re mine. The end.”

Whitman chuckled. “You are a hard nut to crack, Spalding.”

“You have no idea, Kendrick.”

He laughed again, winked at her, then opened his book.

Sarah couldn’t have been more shocked than if he’d pinched her ass. He’d laughed at her sarcasm and then
winked
, for pity’s sake. What did it mean?

She had no idea, so she pushed it away and tried not to think about it. The fact he loved books, and read them as an escape as well, formed a kinship between them.

Sarah didn’t want it to happen, but it did. So much for keeping her distance from the Yankee.

S
arah stared at her bags beneath the seat and then up at Whitman. “Would you mind carrying these?”

“Are you the same woman who got on the train this morning?” He grabbed the bags and headed for the compartment door. “Coming?” he tossed over his shoulder.

A grin threatened her annoyance with being unable to carry her own bags. Whitman had a sense of humor, unexpected and surprisingly sexy.

After their odd conversation earlier, they hadn’t spoken much. Sarah finally broke down and ate some of the food he’d brought, as surreptitiously as she could, of course. Earlier, after he’d woken with a start, Whitman had looked at her as if he’d seen a ghost, his expression one of desperation and grief.

She hadn’t known how to respond to it, so she’d buried her reaction deep enough where she could ignore it. Then after he’d nearly bitten her head off, dammit, he’d gotten nice again.

Sarah was confused and befuddled by Whitman Kendrick. That made her feel angry and annoyed, yet at the same time, butterflies danced in her stomach when he smiled. It was enough to make her want to trade in her compartment ticket for a seat in the crowded main car.

Yet she didn’t.

Most of Sarah’s relationships with men had been physical, purely a release of bodily urges. There hadn’t been a man she even considered having a conversation with since she’d last seen Micah. And he’d been practically a ghost.

To be honest with herself, she was lonely, but it was a self-imposed loneliness. Her own defenses kept every man out until Whitman came along.

He crept under the wall around her heart and knocked on the door. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact he didn’t back away from her when she barked. He stood up to her, without being a total ass, and made her feel as if she’d found a worthy adversary.

However, her body was telling her he wasn’t an adversary, but a partner, a
bed partner
. He’d mentioned he was engaged to be married, so there was no way he’d want to tussle the sheets with Sarah. Whitman appeared to be a gentleman—for all his rough words with her, he’d never once treated her badly.

It had been a very long time since Sarah had encountered a gentleman, certainly as long ago as before the war began. And even then, they were all Southerners.

Whitman was a Yankee.

Her mind whirled with the notion that not only was she attracted to a Northern man, but she actually liked him too. Her mother would roll over in her grave if she knew.

They walked together toward the hotel, following the trail of people as they exited the train. His arm was firm and warm beneath hers as he carried three bags with his left hand while escorting her with his right.

Her body thrummed with arousal and she half considered inviting him to her room that night. After all, they were both grown adults and Sarah was very attracted to him. More than she should be, truth be told.

She had an itch that needed scratching. Whitman was just the man for the job. That settled it in her mind. She’d invite him in after supper, and if she was lucky, they’d both be grinning in the morning. One thing she could do in bed well was sex, she didn’t need two good legs to give and receive sensual pleasure.

All she needed was a willing man and a whole lot of hot, hard sex. She shivered at the thought of being with Whitman and getting to feel, taste, and nibble those muscles up close and personal.

Just the thought made her nipples pop up like little flags. He’d better say yes or she would be servicing herself.

“These biscuits taste like yesterday’s leftovers.” Whitman set the offending bread on the table and made a face. “Or perhaps last week’s.”

Sarah hadn’t even taken a bite of hers. “Shame, isn’t it? Biscuits are one of the best things in the world and they had to go and ruin it.”

Things had been calm and polite, almost friendly since they’d left the train. Supper had been enjoyable, aside from the food. It had all been stale, tasteless, or downright inedible. He’d be eternally grateful the food at their first stop had been so delicious. If he’d tasted gravy like what was on his plate now, he’d have bought his own food at the general store and rationed it.

Sarah ate, as did he, even if the food tasted terrible. He realized both of them had been used to eating whatever food was served. A survival instinct and habit they had in common.

For some damn reason, though, he couldn’t stop thinking about Sarah and his dream about her. The danger, the feelings and sensations had been so real, he couldn’t shake them—a very unusual occurrence for Whit. He’d been a soldier for fifteen years, for pity’s sake, and seen some of the most horrific things a human being can.

Yet the image of Sarah being hurt, even in a dream, bothered him immensely. Why that was remained a mystery. First of all, he didn’t know why he dreamt of her. Secondly, the dream itself was odd. Last, the emotional effect of the dream lingered.

Whitman wanted to protect her, keep her from harm, and hell’s bells, he wanted to kiss her.

It was more than kissing actually, but he didn’t need to be doing any of that with Sarah Spalding. He had a fiancée and needed to stay true to her. Melissa promised herself to him, even if it was through correspondence. Whitman had his honor and it dictated he did not betray that promise.

As they walked toward the steps, Sarah’s perfume wafted past his nose. It was a light scent like roses mixed with the underlying aroma of her body. All woman, and damn arousing. Whitman gritted his teeth and breathed through his mouth. If he couldn’t smell her, the hard dick currently knocking at his buttons might go away.

However, it got worse when he picked her up in his arms to carry her up the stairs. She was tall enough to drape her body from his shoulder all the way down to the part of him currently acting like an idiot.

Whit started counting from one to a thousand as he walked up the steps. It didn’t seem to help very much because she laughed at him, the husky chuckle echoing through his already taut body.

“What’s funny?” he snapped.

Her thumb caressed the underside of his jaw. A bolt of pure lust slammed through him when she whispered near his ear. “That wasn’t amusement, Kendrick. I can feel you hard against my hip.”

Whitman sucked in a breath, unsure how to respond to her. He wanted to snarl and fuck her until they couldn’t see straight. What he should do is tell her good night and leave her at the hotel room door.

Sarah, however, took that decision out of his hands.

When he put her on her feet, she cupped his cheeks and pulled his head down. Their breath mingled as their lips grew closer. Heat arced between them and Whit found himself falling into her silver gaze.

He was losing control fast. Yet he couldn’t stop it, any of it, even if he tried. The moment their lips touched, a primitive howl of pleasure ripped through him.

She opened her mouth and their tongues entwined like old lovers. Rasping and winding together in a timeless dance.

They stumbled through the doorway, their mouths never losing touch. He heard the snick of the door shutting, then the key turning in the lock. Sarah was obviously skilled with her hands as she worked to close them off from the world.

Whitman allowed his eyes to adjust to the semidarkness. The light streaming through the window from the street gave the room a golden glow bright enough to see only shapes and the occasional flash of skin.

Sarah started unbuttoning his shirt and he slowly let her down to her feet to give her free access. He was rewarded with a husky chuckle.

“You like that, do you?” She kissed the skin inch by inch as the shirt opened.

Whit’s dick pulsed with each touch of her lips, harder and more eager than he ever remembered being. Then she licked him from his stomach to his jaw and he almost came in his drawers.

“You can’t even imagine how much.” He pulled the shirt completely off and she ran her hands up and down his chest, her nails lightly scratching his nipples. Obviously Sarah was not inexperienced with a man, which was lucky for him.

As if he were under her spell, he allowed her to continue seducing him. She unbuttoned his trousers, freeing the erection hard enough to hammer nails. When her hand closed around him through his drawers, he sucked in a breath.

“God, that feels good.”

“Yep, it sure does. You’ve been blessed by your maker, Whit.” She pumped him once. “And apparently so have I for tonight.”

Before he could realize what she was about, his drawers had joined his pants on the floor and she’d sat on the bed. His bare cock waited in anticipation, as did the rest of him, with his pulse pounding through him like kettle drums.

He didn’t have to wait long. A light swipe of her tongue on the underside made his eyes roll back in his head. She cupped his balls and rubbed her thumb between them, sending a delicious shiver through him. Her other hand wrapped around the base of his dick and squeezed lightly.

When her mouth closed around him, Whit’s knees turned to jelly and he swayed into her.

“Don’t fall on me, big man.” She pulled him deep into her mouth and sucked while her tongue swiped the tender skin.

Twice before Whitman had had women pleasure him with their mouths, but they didn’t even remotely compare with Sarah. She started a rhythm of sucking him into her mouth as she squeezed with her hands, then releasing him while rubbing the base of his cock.

“Sarah.” He gasped after a few minutes. “I won’t last long if you keep that up.”

She laughed softly. “Mm, well we can’t have that, can we?”

After a few more strokes, she laved the head of his cock, alternately nibbling and kissing. It was the most sensual experience of his life.

“I’m going to come in your mouth.”

She let him go with an audible pop. “Then the fun would be over too soon, wouldn’t it?”

He couldn’t quite see clearly, but he could hear her remove her clothes as his pulse pounded through his ears. If he got any harder, he might faint.

“You gonna join me on the bed, Yankee?” She let loose a husky chuckle. “I’ve got a few things we can do with that cock of yours.”

Hearing her talk dirty made him that much more aroused. He didn’t expect it would, but damned if it didn’t. Whit had never been so turned on in his life.

He crawled onto the bed and came up against soft, feminine skin. Breathing in her scent, he smelled roses and the musky scent of her aroused pussy. Both were heavenly.

Whitman lay down next to her and began exploring. Her breasts were like big apples with hard, distended nipples ripe for the picking. He lowered his mouth and licked at one, earning a hiss from her.

“I like that. Do it again.”

Sarah was definitely not shy.

He cupped the other breast and tweaked the nipple while his mouth continued to pleasure her. He nibbled at her and she jerked.

“Harder.”

Whit smiled and bit her. She moaned in appreciation and he continued his assault. As he switched breasts, his hand meandered down her stomach until he found the springy hair between her legs.

The heat from her pussy made his dick jump against her hip. She was amazingly wet and ready. His fingers dipped into the recesses of her and discovered all the nooks and crannies.

Each time he found one she liked, he mentally made a note, then returned his fingers to caress her again. Her clit was big and extended past the hood surrounding it. He wanted to taste her, and bite her love nubbin, but it would have to wait until next time.

Instead he played with her clit, alternately fucking her with his fingers and rubbing his palm against the clit instead. She pushed against his hand.

“You’ve got some skills in bed.” She grabbed his dick and pumped it. “Now let’s see what you can do with this.”

Whitman let her pull him to her, a willing participant in her commanding presence in the bed.

He rose above her, unable to see her face in the gloom, but he could see her teeth. She was either smiling or snarling. At that point, he didn’t care which it was.

As he sank into her welcoming wetness slowly, she pulled at his ass.

“Hurry.”

He didn’t want to hurry, though. “Anticipation heightens the pleasure.”

“If I am heightened any more, I might come before you are even all the way inside me.”

Whit felt a chuckle bubble up and tried to imagine another woman acting like Sarah did. There was simply no comparison.

He plunged in deeply in one thrust. She gasped and tightened around him. The velvet glove of her pussy walls was like a fist, pulling him in deeper.

“Yessss,” she hissed. “That’s it.”

Whit couldn’t even form a single word. He was lost in a pleasure he hadn’t experienced before. As he began to move, she moved with him. Her body pushed up as he thrust down, their rhythm matched perfectly.

It was as if they were made to be together, flesh against flesh.

Whitman leaned down and captured a nipple, pulling it into his mouth. She scratched at his back and pulled her knees up. He plunged into her so deeply, his balls touched her flesh.

“Bite it.”

His teeth closed around her nipple even as his dick thrust in and out of her hungry pussy. She moaned with each bite, each glide, each suck.

Sarah was an incredibly sensual woman and she was in his arms. Whitman had never expected it.

“Faster, Whit, harder.” She scratched at his back even as she clenched around his dick.

He couldn’t help but move faster and harder. His balls tightened and he knew his release would be explosive, perhaps even life altering.

“God, yes, I’m coming.” She arched up, pushing her breast into his mouth as the walls of her tight box pulsed around him. Her orgasm kicked his into action. He hadn’t expected it to roar through him, but it did.

He thrust into her again and again. Stars exploded behind his eyes as waves of the most intense ecstasy washed through him. Whit bit her nipple as he came, earning a scream from her as she pulsed around him.

Whitman shook with the power that had just ripped through him. He rolled off her and tried to remember his name.

She tucked herself under his arm and pulled up a blanket. With a contented sigh, not unlike a cat, Sarah fell asleep on his shoulder.