The Willows (44 page)

“
Jude and I have fried some
fish,” she said, gesturing at the table. “Won’t you join
us?”

It all got tangled up–the dinner
smells, the children’s laughter, the excitement in the
air–translating into his need for hit this woman.

“
Don’t trust it,” a tiny
voice caution. Maybe she hadn’t really changed; maybe his wanting
her so badly made him far too ready to believe. This was Gwen, he
shouldn’t forget, the woman who made an art form of teasing him out
of his shell, only to leave him time and again, feeling foolish,
and empty, and all alone.

With a nod, he broke their gaze and
join Christopher at the wash sink. Their arrangement was temporary
anyway. Once she fulfilled her commitment, once she provided
herself to everyone’s satisfaction, Gwen had set herself, she would
be moving on.

Yet, as he sat at the table and watched
her with the children, her smiles at their not always successful
attempts to show off their manners, he found it more and more
difficult to resist her magic. Like Jude’s Merlin, Gwen was weaving
a spell around him, and enchantment he found hard to resist.
Watching her, wanting her more now than he ever could have
imagined, he decided he must find some way to win an keep her. If
you play the perfect gentleman, if he wooed her softly and gently,
somehow he–with the help of the children–must eventually convince
her to stay.

In his heart, he knew he was dreaming,
and this particular dream when not come cheap. Long accustomed to
luxury and pampering, Gwen couldn’t endure hardship forever. He
might win her with courtship, but keep her, he’d have to have
money. And right now, for him, money was in short
supply.

Which made it all that more imperative
to get that harvest in on time.

Throughout the rest of the meal, and
even after reading the book to the children while Gwen it did up
the dishes, he struggled to find a way to explain why he couldn’t
be here tomorrow. Maybe he should tell Gwen instead and let her
break the news to the children gently.

Not that telling her would be any
easier.

Finishing his reading, he closed up the
book. The children protested, begging for more, but Michael
insisted. He was going out back to wash up, and then he had to
leave.

“
Besides,” Gwen said, coming
up from behind, “tomorrow is a special day. If you hope to win the
tournament, you children will want all the sleep you can
get.”

They stopped grumbling, rising
obediently, if reluctantly. About to mention the change in plans,
Michael was distracted by the glint of metal at Jude’s neck when
the girl rose to her feet.

Not again, he thought, seeing her
quickly talk the necklace back into her shirt. “Is that Gwen’s
locket around your neck?” He said, wondering what fascination it
could hold that the girl kept feeling the need to swipe
it.

“
She did not take it.”
Patrick blurted out from the doorway. “I gave it to
her.”

“
And I gave it to Patrick,”
Gwen said, sliding closer. As Jude pulled the chain up and over her
head, Gwen turned to stop her. “No, it is all right. Please, I want
you to keep it. I think my mother would want that.”

As Jude smiled up at her, Michael was
stuck by how pretty the girl would be, how soon she would be
breaking hearts of her own. It hit him then how rarely he had seen
Jude smile.

More magic, he thought with a sigh.
When was weaving her spell around all of them.

He stood back as he shooed the children
off to bed, impressed by how quickly they all went. When the
children were off, she flashed a tentative grin. “I guess I should
have told you earlier. After the fuss I made about the locket, I
can’t blame you for doubting that I gave it away.”

“
I do find myself wondering
why you did.”

“
I gave it to Patrick, in
return for a favor, and you know how they are with each other. He
knew how much that locket meant to his sister. How she associated
it with her own mother.”

“
I thought it meant a lot to
you.”

“
It does.” She went into the
kitchen to finished drying the dishes. “But I realized Jude needs
it more than me right now. She is going through a difficult time,
and she needs some link with her past. She calls it her talisman
and wears it everywhere. She won’t sleep, or even bathe without
it.”

He took the plate from her and put it
away. “You have been remarkably patient with her. She can be a
difficult child.”

“
Not difficult. Just
confused.” Giving him the last dish, she set down the towel. “It is
not easy to lose your mother, when you are just learning to be a
woman.”

He leaned up against the cover, arms
folded across his chest. “Are you talking about Jude or
yourself?”

For a moment, she seemed startled. “I
guess Jude and I have a lot more in common than we bargained on. A
fact that sometimes helps in understanding each other, yet often
hinders. We can both be quite bullheaded.”

He grinned down at her. “Yes, I have
found that, too,”

“
Go ahead and laugh, but if
you only knew what I have had to go through this past week,
planning that tournament-“she froze, searching his face. “What is
it?”

It all came rushing back, the pressure
of the harvest, how much you killed him to disappoint them.
“Something has come up.”

Looking away, she slowly and
deliberately untied the strings to remove the apron from her waist.
“I see. You’re not coming.”

“
Gwen-“

“
There is no need to
explain.” The words were as wooden as her posture as she brushed
past him. “I understand, truly.”

He reached out and spun her to face
him. “No, you don’t, dammit. I have no choice but to be out there
working. I owe money. It was a short-term loan that I hoped to pay
off by now…” He paused, seeing no sense in telling her that the
debt would have been paid had her uncle given him the amount he
owed him. “Well, let’s just say that I have less than a month among
to come up with the money, or the firm of Barclay and Tibbs will
just about kill any hopes I might have for the future.”

“
Can’t you request an
extension? Daddy always did.”

“
Your father’s name carries
a lot more weight than mine,” he said bitterly. “Can’t evening get
past the clerk to plead my case. He says the owners are too busy to
bother with my kind.”

She winced, and looking down, he saw
how tightly he gripped her. So much for wooing her tenderly. Angry
with himself, he removed his hands gently. He cannot, however,
bring himself to move away.

“
But it is so unfair,” she
said. “How can they decide what kind of man you are, without even
meeting you?”

Though her anger touched him, and made
him realize how little she truly knew about him. “Mine is what they
called a checkered history,” he felt compelled to explain. “I have
been moving around since I was 14, and bankers tend to like folks
that stick in one place. I am not the kind of risk they are fond of
taking.”

“
Then they are fools. Blind
ones, if they cannot see that you are well worth risking a few
measly dollars.”

She spoke so vehemently, he felt like
taking a gamble of his own. “Am I?” He asked. “How much would you
risk, my lady?”

He stared into her eyes, making it
clear that his question had nothing to do with financial loss, that
it was her emotions he wanted her to put on the line. Gazing at her
lovely face, hoping became wanting, one great aching need to
possess her, to convince her in the age old fashion that she
belonged at his side.

But in his heart, he knew she must make
the decision, so he stood there holding his breath, knowing so much
could depend on what she said or did next.

What she did was turn away, making
great business of hanging her apron on a peg on the wall. “If I had
the money,” she said, so softly he nearly did not hear, “you would
never again need to go begging to bankers.”

It was less than he had wanted, yet
more than he could reasonably hope for, and a cautious man would
quit and cut his losses. But Michael was at heart a gambler, and he
had yet to play out his hand. “I was not asking for cash,” he said
quietly. She didn’t move, just kept holding on to that apron. With
a shrug, he went to the door, offering a parting shot. “It was
never a matter of money, my lady. All I wanted was you.”

He went outside and then, before he can
make a bigger fool of himself, and headed straight for the tub.
Ripping off his shirt, he cursed himself for getting carried away.
He knew it would be sometime yet before he could offer heard the
life she was used to, and until he could, there was no sense
issuing any invitations. Not even a hopeless romantic could expect
Queen Gwen to bed down with a common dirt farmer.

As he unbuttoned and kicked free of his
pants, he thought longingly of cold, mountain streams, needing
something to chill down his yearnings. The water from the barrel
still held the warmth from the sun, and though he scrubbed himself
fiercely under the shower, it did little to cool him off. Stepping
out of the tub to dry off, he kept thinking of the night she’d come
to him here, how tightly he held her, how close he’d been to making
her his own.

So strong was the memory, that at
first, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw her. It was easy to
blame his imagination, for she seemed almost ghostly as she glided
toward him through the moonlight, a piece of long, white material
draped on her arm.

With the tightening in his groin, he
saw that she wore only her underwear. Her smooth white lambs, her
luscious breasts-all so touchable, kissable, yet so completely
unreal. Pale and solemn, stopped before him to search his face,
waiting for him to say something, it how could he talk to a dream?
One word and she’d evaporated, vanish on the breeze.

It was Gwen who spoke, breaking the
spell. “I, er, thought you might need this,” she said with a
half-smile, holding out a long, white towel.

She was either incredibly naïve, or
boldly manipulative, both of which played havoc with his emotions.
“Are you out of your mind, coming out here to me like this?” He
asked, reaching for her arm. “What are you up to now?”

“
We didn’t quite get it
right the last time.”

He noticed her voice trembled, but he
was too angry to care. “No, we didn’t, and I warned you what would
happen, if you try to something like that again.”

“
I know.”

“
You know? I’m two seconds
away from taking you right here on the bare ground! If you had any
sense, you would run as fast and far as you can.”

She bit her lip, but resolutely spread
the towel out beside them.

“
Now it is not bare ground.”
Her entire body trembled.

“
Dammit, Gwen,” Michael
ground out. “Do you know what you are doing?”

With a quick, nervous nod, she moved
nearer still, until he could feel her soft, peaking breasts beneath
her bra. “I am well aware of the risk,” she told him huskily. “And
I imperfectly willing to take it. How about you?”

With every inch of him yearning for
her, but he held himself in check, too afraid to trust what his
eyes and ears and heart were telling him. He had dreamed his dream
too long for it to be true. Gwen, coming to him it offering her
trust on a silver platter?

She reached up suddenly, wrapping her
arms around his neck. “Quick, Michael, kiss me, “she whispered.
“Don’t let me change my mind.”

Suddenly, it no longer mattered if it
were real or not. All that existed was Gwen’s hot body, pressed up
against him, her breath soft and warm on his face. Sliding his
hands through her hair to cradle her head, he leaned down to take
the lips so miraculously offered.

He felt a surge of longing as their
lips met, of power as her lips parted beneath his. Though he knew
the importance of gentling her, of taking time to do this right,
the taste of her, her sweet, salty taste, scent of fresh soap on
her skin, the soft, silky texture of her hair. He had to have her,
all over, and he had to have her now.

He forced himself away from her mouth,
his lips clinging to hers until the very last moment. “Last
chance,” he forced himself to grind out, his bombs tracing the
moist corners of her mouth. “Still sure you want this?”

“
I want you,” she told him
in a seducing whisper.

Staring at each other, communicating
their mutual need, their knees gave way in unison as they sank
together to the soft ground. Kissing her, cradling her, he lowered
her down to the towel. “I am your vassal,” he whispered back. “I
live to serve you, my lady.”

And as it had when they were children,
the phrase opened up a magical world, only this time, it was his
world. Earthly and sweet, the aroma of soil and vegetation jointed,
scenting the air with its rich and fertile perfume. All around in
the Bayou played its night music, a symphony of sultry sounds. The
chirping of tree frogs and insects matching the beat of his heart
as he kissed her arched neck; the breeze whispering through Spanish
moss echoed her sighs.