Someone to Wed

by Cheryl Holt

  But the entire time, he’d been choking with rage. He never liked to fight with anyone, and he especially didn’t like to fight with his sister. There had been too much of that sort of vitriol during their childhood. He was anxious to smooth over their quarrel, but with Sandy and Margaret both so angry, he couldn’t imagine how he ever would.

  The minute the socializing was over, and he could safely escape, he’d snuck away. He’d assumed he was simply riding the country lanes, wandering with no specific destination in mind, but when he’d found himself at Joanna’s gate, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

  He was sick at heart and keen to talk to someone who could provide solid advice. He couldn’t discuss the situation with Kit. His solution would be to fire Sandy. Roxanne was already demanding it, but Jacob couldn’t envision terminating him. Apparently, Sandy had loved Margaret forever. How was that powerful sentiment an action that should bring about his firing? Yet what was the alternative?

  He was at a loss as to how he should respond, and he was eager to forget about it for a few hours. Or maybe he’d like to be told that the circumstances weren’t quite as dire as they seemed.

  Joanna was the only person he could think of who might furnish any solace. She was kind and pragmatic, and she’d likely have insights he hadn’t considered.

  That’s what he was telling himself anyway, but if he was being brutally honest, he’d have to admit that he was desperate to be with her. Since his last visit two weeks earlier, he’d been horridly adrift. If he could just wallow in her charming company for awhile, he was certain his condition would improve.

  He knocked again, and he could sense her listening, hesitating, debating whether to answer. If she didn’t, he couldn’t predict how he’d behave. Would he kick his way in? He was that determined to speak to her.

  Ultimately, she approached, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t have to bluster in like a barbarian.

  She opened the door and peered out, but she wasn’t glad to see him, and she greeted him with, “You’re like a bad penny. You keep showing up, no matter how I try to be rid of you.”

  “May I come in?”

  “Why should I let you?”

  “Must I state a reason?”

  She studied him for an eternity, then scoffed with disgust. “I guess not.”

  He entered, and they faced each other like combatants on a battlefield. On the journey over, he hadn’t pondered what he would say to her, and now that he’d arrived, he couldn’t deduce what it should be. What did he want exactly?

  Well, he wanted her to fix what was wrong, but she’d have to be a miracle worker to solve any of his problems.

  Mutt was lying by the hearth, and he decided it might be easier to reconcile with the dog. He went over and patted the animal, but Mutt didn’t rise or wag his tail. He flashed a definite glare that seemed to ask, Where have you been?

  Jacob turned to her and said, “Is Clara home?”

  “No. She slept in the village with her classmates. They’re celebrating another birthday.”

  He warned himself not to be too excited about the fact that they were alone, and like a dunce, he asked, “How have you been?”

  “Fine.”

  “I missed you.”

  She didn’t reply in the same vein. She simply stared, looking impatient and irked.

  “Why are you here?” she inquired. “It’s obvious you’re distraught, but I’m in no mood to soothe your woe. What is it you need?”

  “I’d like to chat for a bit.”

  She bristled with exasperation. “This can’t be how we carry on. From the first moment we met, you took advantage of my generous nature, but once our relationship became inconvenient for you, you ended it.”

  “I was awful to you. I realize that.”

  “I’m delighted to hear you admit it.”

  “I’ve never been very astute.”

  “That is the biggest understatement ever uttered in my presence.”

  He snickered. “If we keep conversing, I’m sure I’ll spout something even more ridiculous.”

  “I was hurt when you severed our bond, but I convinced myself it was for the best. There is no benefit for me to be involved with you, so why are you bothering me? You can’t flit in and out of my life, depending on your level of boredom. I have no idea why I opened the door to you.”

  It was clear she was about to toss him out. If he didn’t hurry and offer a viable explanation for his appearance, he’d be evicted like the scoundrel he was. Margaret had accused him of harboring their Father’s worst tendencies. Was she correct? Would he do any foul thing to a woman, despite the consequences she might suffer?

  He was terribly afraid he might. Previously, he’d never believed he possessed unruly passions, but perhaps he did.

  She was ready to throw him out, while he was over by the hearth, coaxing her dog to be friends again. Evidently, he needed to expend his energy on the human in the room.

  He marched over to her, coming so close that the tips of his boots slipped under the hem of her skirt. She didn’t step away, and he liked that about her. She wasn’t impressed by him, wasn’t cowed or awed.

  “I shouldn’t have told you we had to part,” he said.

  “Yes, you should have. It was the logical conclusion. This is a very small area, and there are no secrets.”

  “I don’t want to avoid you. I can’t.”

  “You are such a child, Jacob. A spoiled, coddled child. You demand that the world spin in your direction and that I should gleefully agree to let it. As you are posturing and informing me of what you intend to have happen, I should like to apprise you that I don’t wish to continue on with our flirtation.”

  “Liar.”

  “You think you’re very grand, and I concur. You are grand, but I’m quite grand myself—although the prospect never occurs to you. I can trace my ancestry back a thousand years on my mother’s side. Can you?”

  “No.” He likely had a good shot at two hundred.

  “And my father is an earl’s son. He was a fourth son—and a libertine and spendthrift—so it’s not much of a heritage to brag about, but you treat me as if you are the superior personage in our association. Well, Captain, it may be that I feel the same. I deserve every ounce of respect that is ever shown to me, and I won’t tolerate snubs from anyone. Not even you.”

  She gave a pompous shake of her auburn hair, and it dawned on him that she was the most stunning female he’d ever met. She’d also just delivered an enormously thorough dressing-down. He’d never been so completely put in his place.

  The Ralston name was famous throughout the land, producing a lengthy line of sailors who’d valiantly served the Crown for centuries. Women loved them. Fathers sought them out to be husbands for their daughters. Doxies begged to be their paramours.

  Only Joanna James wasn’t enthralled. Only Joanna James viewed herself as being above him in every way. She lived in a tiny, decrepit cottage and was so poor she wasn’t required to pay rent. She brewed potions and supplied them to gullible ninnies like Margaret who needed someone to tell them how to be happier.

  She had strange powers, and when no one was watching, she probably cast spells and practiced all sorts of heathen magic that would make any devout Christian ripple with alarm. Had she cast a spell on him? Was that why he was so captivated?

  The universe had hurled her into his path, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t be shed of her. What was a healthy, red-blooded man supposed to do?

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. For a second, she remained stiff as a board, acting as if she wasn’t interested, but it was a very brief second. She couldn’t resist, and she leapt into the fray with incredible enthusiasm.

  It was impossible to ignore the sparks that ignited when they were together. She could pretend to be angry, but she wasn’t. She
was as insanely besotted as he was.

  The embrace swiftly spiraled out of control, and he was eager to discover how wild it would grow. He yanked away and headed for the stairs, dragging her up behind him. With Clara gone, they didn’t have to be quiet, didn’t have to tiptoe.

  They were giggling like lunatics who belonged in an asylum, and as they raced to perdition, he was struggling to deduce his purpose. It was dark and they were alone. They rushed into her bedroom and straight to the bed. He tumbled onto the mattress and drew her onto it with him, and he rolled them so he was stretched out atop her.

  She didn’t complain, didn’t scold him or scoot away.

  “I hate you,” she suddenly said, erasing any confusion as to what she was thinking.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “You chase me relentlessly until I decide to like you. Then you break my heart and leave. Now, without any warning, you’re back. I’m so incensed.”

  “You’re glad I came. Admit it.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m disgusted with myself. I typically consider myself to be very strong-willed, but it’s obvious I have no spine at all.”

  “You’re mad about me,” he said.

  “I’m mad about something,” she caustically retorted, “but I’m too much of a lady to confess what it is.”

  He chuckled. She was adept at soothing his low mood, at getting him to grin despite how glum he was.

  He started kissing her again, and she joined in, but apparently, she was awash with fury. They sparred like brawlers intent on winning their skirmish. They bit and wrestled and scrapped, going on and on and on until he couldn’t imagine where it would end.

  They were so isolated. They might have been the last two people on Earth, and they could engage in any illicit behavior. Who would ever know?

  He felt as if he was outside his body, observing as a stranger carried on precisely as he shouldn’t. What was his plan with regard to her? If he kept on, they would wind up fornicating, which would be a horrendous disaster. But wasn’t this the road they’d been traveling from the beginning?

  He had a destiny with her. Why not let it unfold? Where might he be when it was over? He suspected it would be somewhere fascinating.

  Or was that the lust talking? It probably was. If he didn’t have her—and soon—he truly couldn’t predict how he’d survive the debacle. A man could grow too amorous, and it wasn’t healthy to ignore the amount of desire flowing in his veins. It had to be sated.

  The interval became more ardent, as he caressed her in places he hadn’t previously. His hands roamed over her thighs and bottom, her waist and chest. He massaged her breasts, playing with the nipples, being very rough and not worrying about her tender condition. It seemed as if they were in a war, and they would both be victors when it was over.

  She was enjoying his ministrations, her oohs and aahs driving him to new heights of yearning. Gradually, he was unbuttoning her gown, pushing it off her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a corset, but a pretty chemise that had flowers embroidered on the border.

  He tugged down the straps, baring her bosom, and she didn’t exhibit a stitch of maidenly shyness. Not even when he abandoned her luscious mouth to suck on a nipple. She trembled with pleasure and held him even closer, urging him to feast.

  All the while, he was easing the hem of her skirt up her legs, past her shins, her knees. He arrived at her drawers and discovered a lacy undergarment he wouldn’t have expected on a woman as modest as he deemed her to be. It might have been a secret gift she’d been hiding just for him.

  He slid his hand under the trim and found her woman’s sheath. She was wet and ready for him, and as his lips tormented her breast, he dabbed at the special spot at the vee of her thighs where all her sensation was centered. She was a very physical creature, and with three flicks of his thumb, he sent her soaring to the heavens. She spiraled up and up, reached her peak, then tumbled down.

  Again, she exhibited no shock or shyness, and her lack of inhibition had him wondering if she was really a virgin. She’d once insisted she was, but now, he wasn’t sure he believed her.

  He shifted onto his side, and she moved too so they were nose to nose. He couldn’t fathom what thoughts were racing in her mind. She wasn’t like any other female he’d ever encountered, so he wouldn’t hazard a guess, but when she finally spoke, he laughed long and hard.

  “I still hate you,” she said.

  “We’ve been through this. You don’t hate me.”

  “I used to think I didn’t detest anyone, but you’ve forced me to accept that I have a massive temper.”

  “It’s all that red hair. It’s impossible for you to be meek and calm.”

  She rolled away from him, her back snuggled to his front. He spooned himself to her, his much larger body cradling her much smaller one. She fit next to him perfectly, as if she’d been meant to lie just where she was and nowhere else.

  He couldn’t resist taking a firm thrust against her bottom, his phallus pressing into her in a manner that was completely unsatisfying.

  “You desire me,” she said.

  “Is that a surprise to you?”

  “No. I may be a maiden, but I’m not naïve about masculine drives. I’m a midwife, remember? I deliver babies, and I’ve had more than a few women tell me how they’re created.”

  “I’ve figured that out about you.”

  “What dragged you here?” she asked. “You haven’t told me.”

  “I was fighting with my sister.”

  “Shame on you.”

  “It left me very despondent.”

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes. I’m feeling better by the second.”

  “Why were you fighting with Mrs. Howell?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to confess it, but he couldn’t unburden himself. He was loafing in her bed and trying to determine whether he should fornicate with her, so he could hardly admit that he was angry because Sandy and Margaret wanted to marry.

  He and Margaret had quarreled over class and station, over what type of person was appropriate for them to love and lust after. He’d hurled plenty of harsh opinions at Margaret, but afterward, he’d rushed straight to Joanna’s cottage. What did he actually believe about the issue? What did he truly know about how the world should work?

  “Could we not talk about it?” he asked. “I’d rather not dredge it up. It will simply infuriate me.”

  “Just because you don’t talk about it, the problem won’t vanish.”

  “I realize that. I’m merely certain—if I give you a hint of what it was about—you’ll scold me for being an idiot. Then we will quarrel too, and I’ve had enough fighting for one day.”

  “Poor, poor Captain Ralston.” She snorted with amusement. “I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “You shouldn’t. I’m a beast and a fiend. I can’t deny it.”

  “I’ve started to recognize those traits in you.”

  They were quiet for a bit, and he said, “Do you think I’m like my father?”

  “In what way?”

  “He behaved hideously toward us. Toward my half-brothers, Caleb and Blake, and their mother too. Can that sort of immoral character be inherited?”

  “No. We make our own choices. You can be whoever you wish to be.”

  “I’ll keep telling myself that.”

  She reached a hand over her shoulder, and he clasped hold and kissed the center of her palm. She pulled it away, and he draped an arm across her waist and nestled her even closer.

  With their ardor partially spent, the room was cooling. He tugged a blanket over them, sealing them in a cozy cocoon. He couldn’t predict how many more times he’d be with her like this, and he was cataloguing every aspect of the precious moment so he’d never forget a single detail.

  Yet he was exhausted, and if
he wasn’t careful, he’d doze off.

  She was so still that he was sure she’d fallen asleep, but she drowsily asked, “Must you go home?”

  “No, I don’t have to.”

  “Would you stay the night? I’d like you to. It can be so lonely here by myself.”

  “I can stay,” he murmured in reply. “I can stay as long as you want.”

  Joanna stood by the window in her bedchamber, studying the sky outside. Dawn was just beginning to break.

  Jacob was asleep in her bed, and she wasn’t aghast to find him there. Her request that he tarry hadn’t been a reckless impulse. She’d known he’d return to her cottage—sooner rather than later—so when he’d knocked on her door, she hadn’t been surprised.

  When he’d fled two weeks earlier, she’d been so hurt that she’d finally read her cards, which she tried to never do. For once, they’d actually supplied her with some clear answers. She and Jacob had a destiny, and until it was realized, he wouldn’t leave her alone.

  Before they’d dozed off, he’d asked her if she thought a man could inherit his father’s low character. She’d placated him, claiming people had free will, but she didn’t believe that at all. She believed a person’s path was written down at birth in a grand book arranged by Fate. Everyone walked around as if they were tiny pieces on a chessboard.

  Jacob Ralston was bound to her through their connection to his father. Joanna had begged the man to watch over her, and with that powerful entreaty hanging over their heads, how could she hope to keep herself separated from his son?

  She’d spent hours studying him and figuring out what she was supposed to do for him—and for herself. She wasn’t an innocent Miss, and she didn’t view her body as shameful. She didn’t view sexual play as wicked or wrong. No, she simply considered it to be normal human conduct that created babies.

  Her female ancestors had rarely married, but they often had children. They fell in love and behaved as they shouldn’t, so they moved frequently to hide their sins from fussy preachers and Puritanical neighbors.