by Norah Hess
Scrag came and jumped upon her lap, purring loudly as he settled in. One thing for sure, she thought, I'm going with Ellen and Samuel to church on Christmas day. Not only that, she would stay for the party afterward. In fact she was going to attend any get-together that came along. If she was to live out her life as D'lise Devlin, she must make herself a life apart from her husband.
She lifted the cat to the floor and prepared for bed. She would not sleep, she knew, but she didn't want to be up when Kane came in. She would be unable to look at him without bursting into tears. And what would she answer when he asked her the cause? That she cried because he did not love her? Her pride was deeply crushed, but it wasn't completely dead.
Kane had just finished placing a bucket of snow in each horse's stall and was walking over to the cow's when the barn door creaked open. He jerked around, his hand dropping to the knife at his waist. He dropped it then and watched the woman come toward him.
"Raven," he said quietly in greeting, "what brings you here?"
"Don't look so worried. I am not staying long," Raven answered, stopping in front of him. "I think it's time you know something about your wife that everyone else knows."
"And what is that?" Kane frowned.
"That Samuel Majors's buggy is seen often in front of your cabin while you run your traps."
"I know that. He brings Ellen Travis to visit D'lise."
Raven's lips curled. "Is the widow with him every time he comes?"
Before he could question her further, Raven wheeled around and left the barn, leaving him with suspicion building in his mind. Was D'lise seeing Majors behind his back? He would have no way of knowing. He left the cabin at dawn, not returning until dusk. For all he knew, the storekeeper could be riding out here, spending the whole day with her.
His clenched first lashed out, striking the top board of Snowy's stall and smashing it, making the stallion whinny in protest. The bitch, the beautiful bitch. She was just like Lottie, his uncle's wife, after all. One man wasn't enough for her. He had tutored her in the art of love-making, taking away her fear of it, and this was the way she was repaying him. God, he'd like to smash that lovely face of hers.
But later, lying in bed beside D'lise's warm body, smelling the rose scent of her hair, it was all he could do not to draw her into his arms and make love to her until he couldn't move. He sighed tiredly and turned his back to her.
The next morning at dawn, however, he had no resistance against her at all. In their sleep they had turned to each other, and D'lise's head lay on his shoulder, her black curls spreading over his chest.
How innocent she looked, he thought sadly, gazing down at her. Asleep she still looked virginal, as though she had never known a man, let alone two.
D'lise sighed in her sleep and pressed her lips against his throat. Kane swore in self-disgust as his male member stirred and grew hard. Hating himself for needing her so, even though Samuel Majors might be sharing the bed with her later, he drew her unresisting body into his arms and dropped his mouth to hers.
Half asleep, D'lise opened her lips to let the probing tongue enter her mouth as she pressed closer to his arousal. When rough-textured but gentle fingers stroked her breasts, she trailed a hand down the firm body and closed her fingers around the rock-hard member nudging her leg.
It wasn't until Kane pushed her gown up around her waist and entered her that D'lise came fully awake. I don't want this, she cried silently to herself and tried not to respond to the slow, measured strokes of the satin-smooth length thrusting in and out of her.
She might as well have told the sun not to rise. The rhythmic rub against her nub of sensitivity robbed her of all thought. For the moment, she was only aware of the need clamoring for release.
They reached their zenith together, a soft feminine cry and a male groan of satisfaction filling the small confines of the room.
Unlike the aftermath of other mornings, however, there was no cuddling for a few minutes, no lazy stroking of hands as their breathing returned to normal, their heartbeat slowing. Kane withdrew from D'lise even while his heart was still pounding in his ears, and left the bed. As he hated himself for having no will-power where she was concerned, D'lise's whole body burned with shame. Where had her pride gone? Was she like the Davis sisters the women talked about, thinking only of her bodily needs?
No! she denied hotly. With those girls any man would do. She only wanted Kane.
Kane's routine was broken this morning. After he dressed, he built up the fire, then without a look at her he stalked out of the cabin. Silent sobs shook D'lise's body. He wasn't even going to pretend a fondness for her anymore. Why? Was Raven pressuring him to move back in with them?
Chapter Fourteen
Reverend House was finally winding down his fire-and-brimstone sermon, and relief showed on the congregation's faces, especially those of the children who had been squirming on the hard benches for the past half hour. They wanted to examine the Christmas tree and fill their stomachs with the different pastries whose delicious aromas filled the small church.
D'lise, sitting next to Samuel, with Ellen on his other side, was just as eager as the children to view the tree up close, and she managed to keep her features calm and her hands folded in her lap. But it was hard to keep her feet still. She wanted to stamp them against the floor, to start the blood flowing into them to combat the icy coldness that seeped through the wide gaps in the planked floor, up under her skirt and petticoat.
She let her gaze roam over the worshipers, every one bundled up to their chins. She envied the babies wrapped in their warm blankets and held closely to their mothers' breasts.
Still, she wouldn't have missed this occasion for the world. It was Christmas day, and for the first time in her life she was a part of celebrating it. She was a part of the community, liked and welcomed by everyone. A sadness crept into her eyes. If only she had that same sense of belonging in her own home. There was such a coldness, an aloofness between her and Kane now, and she didn't know how much longer she could stand it. There was also the shame and self-loathing she felt at the beginning of each new day. For though she and Kane barely spoke to each other from the time he came home from running his traps until he left the cabin at his usual time in early dawn, each morning before he left the bed, they turned to each other, and as though they couldn't help themselves, they made love.
How much longer could they go on like this? D'lise stared down at her clasped hands. She knew that Raven continued to meet Kane in the barn, for every morning when she went to tend the animals she found the woman's fresh footprints in front of the door. Each time it was like being stabbed in the heart, and she would swear that Kane Devlin would never again know her body.
But even as she made the vow, she knew that when he reached for her in the early mornings she would go into his arms.
D'lise came back to the present when everyone stood up to sing the closing hymn. She could only hum along, having attended church so seldom she'd never learned the verses.
The men filed outside to light their pipes, and the reverend placed a short, makeshift table at the back of the church. Children ran underfoot, chasing each other about as Mrs. House brought out a thin-layered cake and two pots of tea. The men were called in, and within twenty minutes the pots were empty and nothing left of the cake but a few crumbs.
Ellen whispered to D'lise, "Look at the frown on the reverend's face. He's irked that everything has been eaten. It's always been the rule that any food left over from a gathering goes home with him."
D'lise glanced at the tall, thin preacher. He did have a hungry look, although she had noticed he seemed to eat more than anyone else. "Is he so poor he has to depend on leftovers?" she whispered back to Ellen.
"If he is, it's his own fault. He has plenty of time to farm like most of the other men do. He doesn't spend that much time preparing his sermons. Every Sunday he lambasts us with the same threat that we are headed for hell."
D'lise giggled,
then straightened her features when Sarah Patton came up to her, followed by three of her neighbors.
"D'lise," Sarah said in her clipped, no-nonsense manner, "I've been tellin' the ladies how educated you are." When D'lise looked surprised, she explained, "Samuel told me, and we all think that it would be selfish of you if you refuse to impart some of your learnin' to our young'uns. You know how desperately we need a teacher."
At first D'lise was too dumbfounded to speak. D'lise Alex—Devlin, a schoolteacher? A young woman who until recently had never been around children, who still did not know how to communicate with them?
"I'm sorry, Sarah, but I wouldn't even know how to begin to teach. Besides, I have no books."
"You could learn our young'uns the same way you learned how to read and write and do figures."
"And Samuel has all the books you'll need in his stockroom," Ellen said, slipping an arm through D'lise's. "He sent away to Boston for them right after he moved here. He's anxious for his daughters to continue their education and he feels sure that you can do it."
"Oh, I don't know, Ellen," D'lise began, wondering how Kane would feel about it.
"It would help you spend the time while Kane is running his traps," Ellen pointed out. "I don't know how you can bear it, shut up in the cabin all day with no one to talk to but the cat and dog. I know you have Kane's company in the evenings, but is that truly enough?"
Oh, Ellen, D'lise thought, if only you knew I don't even have that. That sometimes we don't even exchange a dozen words.
And that fact was beginning to bother her something fierce. If she didn't have human companionship before long, she didn't know what she'd do. And Kane couldn't care less what she did with her days. He probably wouldn't even be aware of what she was doing. Of course she would tell him.
"Well"—she smiled weakly at the waiting women—"if you think I should, I'm willing to give it a try."
She was almost smothered by the happy women crowding around her, exclaiming their thanks and telling her that she would do just fine. Ellen took her hand and tugged her toward the door. "Come on, you might as well take a look at your classroom right now."
The sturdy one-room schoolhouse was filled with women and children pushing in behind D'lise and Ellen. Her attention was called a dozen different times at once. "See the well-built fireplace."
"Look at the big woodbox beside it, already filled with wood."
"Look at your desk—the coffinmaker built that." "And see the four long desks, each capable of seating four pupils."
Finally, when she had looked at everything so proudly pointed out to her, Ellen walked to a door she imagined led outside. But when it was unlocked and pushed open, she saw that it led into a large room the width of the building.
"When the schoolhouse was built," Ellen explained, walking inside, "we imagined we'd be getting someone who would need their own quarters, and so we had this room added on and furnished. As you know, no one is interested in coming here to teach."
How cozy it looked, D'lise thought, standing in the doorway, taking in the bed in one corner, a table beneath a window, a bench on either side of it, a fireplace on the west end of the room, and a very used rocker sitting in front of it.
As she turned to follow Ellen back into the schoolroom, she hoped the quarters would be used soon, that someone else would come to take her place. Someone who would know what they were doing.
"I just remembered something, Ellen," D'lise said as they walked back to the church. "I'm not too fond of the idea of making the trip here and back home alone every day. What if I should run into a pack of wolves, or a wildcat?"
"Oh, honey, we wouldn't let you do that." Ellen put her arm around the younger girl's waist. "Have you met old Tom Spears?"
"I'm not sure. Is he the skinny old man with the white beard?"
"That's Tom. He's a queer old fellow and lives alone about a half mile from your place. He rides into the village every day and sits around the post with the other older gentlemen. They talk of old times, how they used to hunt and trap and the Indian fights they've fought. He'll bring you to the village, then take you home."
An inaudible sigh feathered through D'lise lips. She'd used every excuse she could think of. There was no way she could get out of trying to teach the children of Piney Ridge without appearing to be a very selfish person, unwilling to share her knowledge with a younger generation who might otherwise grow up unable to read or write.
The little party was breaking up. The mothers, including Abbey Davis, whose daughters were the talk of the village, thanked D'lise for agreeing to teach their youngsters.
Dusk was coming on as Samuel helped Ellen and D'lise into the buggy, the air growing colder with the setting of the sun. As the buggy moved away from the village, white puffs of cold air escaped their mouths as Ellen and Samuel talked excitedly about school opening after the holidays.
D'lise tried to capture their enthusiasm, but could not. The closer she got to home, the more she worried about what Kane's attitude would be toward her teaching.
It was full dark when Samuel brought the buggy to a halt in front of the cabin. A pale light flickered through the cabin window and D'lise, suddenly nervous, wondered if Kane was inside the cabin or in the barn with Raven.
Samuel was helping her from the conveyance and Ellen was saying good night when the cabin door was flung open and Kane stood there like an avenging angel.
"Where in the hell have you been?"
Kane's shoulders stooped with weariness as he removed a beaver from his last trap, rebaited it, then headed down the beaten path that would take him the three miles to home. His feet didn't have their usual bounce as he plodded along. The emotional upheaval he'd lived in recently seemed to have drained him of all energy.
His skin crawled with self-loathing that he still loved and desired his wife, even though another man visited her while he was away. The very thing he had scorned his uncle for, he was allowing to happen to him. To make it complete, all he had to do now was to begin drinking, to dull the pain that his wife found another man more to her liking—a man who was educated like herself, one who spoke and acted like a gentleman.
Kane frowned when the cabin came in view. It was dark inside. Why hadn't D'lise lit the candles? He stepped up his pace, apprehension and dread growing inside him. Had another Indian come along? Would he find his wife dead?
He flung open the door to be greeted by the tail-wagging Hound and a hissing Scrag. Other than the pair of pets, the cabin was empty. He spun around and raced to the barn, his heart pounding against his ribs. What would he find there? He found only the animals and hungry, fussing chickens.
It was when he returned to the cabin that he noticed the fresh buggy tracks by the door. The blood drained from his face. D'lise had left him. She had gone off with the fancy storekeeper.
His movements slow and lethargic, he untied the rawhide strips that held his catch to his back and let it slide to the ground. Entering the cabin he lit a candle, then stirred up the fire and added more wood to it. He continued to kneel by the hearth, staring unseeing into the flames. How was he to get through the days, the years, without her?
The hound's whining at the door made Kane lift his head and listen. He heard the stamping of hooves and the sound of feminine laughter. She was back!
He jumped to his feet, anger growing inside him. Forgotten was his panic and despair of only minutes ago. Samuel had just helped D'lise to the ground when he flung the door open and demanded in ringing tones, "Where in the hell have you been?"
There was an embarrassed silence for a moment; then D'lise said calmly, her chin in the air, "Merry Christmas, Kane. I've been to church."
The startled look that came over Kane's face was comical, and D'lise would have laughed had she not been so angry. What right did he have speaking that way to her, especially in front of her friends?
She turned to her silent, uneasy companions. "Thank you, Ellen and Samuel, for taking me to the service. Would
n't you like to come in and get warmed before making the trip back to the village?"
"I think we'd better get on back before the wolves start prowling." Samuel smiled down at her, then climbed into the buggy. "Ellen and I will be warm enough under the lap-robe." He nodded to Kane and picked up the reins. Ellen, always the pacifier, smiled and called, "Merry Christmas, Kane," as the buggy rolled away.
D'lise swept into the cabin, her eyes bright with anger. Kane was right behind her, gripped with rage. Before he could release it on her, she swung around, hissing, "You had no right talking to me like that in front of my friends."
"You had no right goin' off and not tellin' me where you were goin'!" Kane was equally loud. "I won't stand for you sneakin' off with that fancy storekeeper, shamin' me in front of everyone."
D'lise stared at him in confusion for a moment. She hadn't sneaked off with Samuel. And he was a fine one to talk about shaming someone. What about his sneaking off to the barn every night to meet Raven? All of Piney Ridge probably knew about it.
She drew herself up proudly, and giving Kane a scathing look, said coldly, "To borrow a phrase from the Bible, before you remove the splinter from your brother's eye, first remove the log from your own." And while he mulled that remark over, she added, "I left you a note telling where I had gone." She looked down at the table. "There it is under the salt cellar where I put it."
In his fear that something had happened to D'lise, Kane had missed seeing the square of paper. He picked up the note, crushed it in his fist, and flung it into the fire.
Ellen Travis was brought along to cover up what was going on between them. His uncle's wife had started out the same way, then gradually got to the point where she hadn't bothered to hide anything from her husband. Well, it wasn't going to happen to him. He was putting a stop to it right here and now. Turning a glowering look on D'lise, he bit out, "I don't want to ever see that bastard's buggy tracks around here again, and I'd better not hear of you bein' with him. You will not bring shame to the Devlin name."