Sweet Words of Love

by Betty Brooks

  He frowned heavily. "You weren't trying to resist, Rainey. In fact, you were begging me for more." "Kisses, you lowlife! Nothing else. You was-were-supposed to be teaching me how to catch Robert's eye. But you had more in mind. You-“

  "Don't be a fool!" he snarled, sliding his feet over the edge of the bed. "You came to me, not the other way around."

  "My grandpa would kill you if he knew what you done," she said. "He trusted you! And so did I.”

  "Well, you shouldn't have!" he snapped.

  Her mouth hung open for a moment, then snapped shut again. "You're even proud of what you done!"

  "Not proud," he said wearily. "But if there's any consequences you have no need to worry. I’ll take care of you."

  "What are you talking about? What do you mean conse-" She broke off as realization set in. "You 're atalkin' about a baby, ain't you, Thorne? You're a­ thinkin' I'm gonna have a baby." She turned away from him, apparently overwhelmed by the notion.

  He stood and took a step forward, sliding his arm around her shoulder, but she jerked away from him. "Let me alone," she snapped. "I don't want you to touch me. Not ever again."

  "Don't be stupid," he said. "This isn't all my fault. You shouldn't have come into my room like that."

  "I've been here before. And don't you call me stupid, neither." "Don't you know that a man is most vulnerable when he wakes up, Rainey," he said in a more gentle voice. "No," he sighed. "I guess you wouldn't know. Oh, damn!" He raked a hand through his hair. ''This is a mess."

  "I didn't make the mess, Thorne, it was you. You had me all hot and bothered from your kisses and your mouth on me like you done-did-and you made me ache with the wanting. But then you took me like that, when you knew I didn’t know nothing at all about loving, and-and-.” She broke off, sniffling, trying to control her trembling lips.

  "Rainey," he groaned. “If I could take it back, then I would, but I can't." He took her in his arms, but she jerked away from him.

  "Don't do that!", she gasped. "Itain’t-isn’t-decen t, Thorne. You. ain't-you're not wearing anything."

  "I know." He dropped his arm. ''I'm buck naked. Well, if you're so shocked, then run away. Like the little coward that you are. But we're going to have to face what happened, Rainey, and the consequences of our foolishness."

  "There won't be any consequences," she said, lifting her chin and staring haughtily at him. "Nothing much has changed."

  "Oh, it has, little mouse. Everything has changed. And you're going to realize it soon enough."

  She turned and ran from the room, and this time he allowed it.

  THIRTEEN

  Rainey stood at the rail of the Voyager and watched the sun rise on the eastern horizon. The wind ruffled her hair, stirring the dark curls at the nape of her neck, as the boat plowed through the water at a swift pace on its way downriver toward New Orleans. Having never been on such a large boat before, Rainey could have been quite happy, had the circumstances between herself and Thorne been different. But her angry words, hurled at him like stones after they'd shared the ultimate intimacy, had set the tone for their mood these past few days. Many were the times she'd wished those angry words unsaid, but wishing wouldn't make them go away. She'd even considered returning to the mountains rather than going to New Orleans with Thorne-even though she greatly desired to see that city-but he had refused that notion the moment he'd been approached with it. The reason he'd given was the danger of a woman traveling alone.

  She hadn't protested that decision, though. She didn't really want to go home. Things had changed there, al­ most the moment she'd left. The news-bearing telegram had reached the Lassiter home as she and Thorne were saying goodbye to Eloise. The contents hadn't been a shock, but why hadn't Grandpa waited for her return before he married Sadie?

  Was it because he thought she might object? That she might even try to stop the marriage? Surely, he knew her better than that. Footsteps thumping against the plank deck interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to see Thorne approaching. He halted abruptly as though he'd only just become aware of her presence. His eyes narrowed sharply on her face.

  "What's wrong?" he asked gruffly. "You look like you've just lost your best friend."

  "Maybe I have." The words were out before she could stop them, spoken without thought.

  "No, " he said gruffly, "you haven't, Rainey. The friend is still here, just waiting until you accept what happened as something that can't be changed."

  She blushed rosily. "I wasn't thinkin' on-about-that-, Thorne, I was thinkin' about Grandpa and Sadie. And them waitin ' until I was gone before they tied the knot. "Why do you suppose they did that?" Her eyes misted and she swallowed hard. "I f-feel like I was in the w-way and d-didn't even know it."

  He slung a long arm around her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. "You weren't in the way, kit­ ten," he said gruffly. "But your grandpa has been think about marrying Sadie for the past year or more. I saw it coming and I thought you did too."

  "I didn 't, though," she admitted. "I thought Grandpa was satisfied with his life ju st the way it was. I didn't make no-any-demands on him, didn't make him help with the chores or nothing like that. I've been doing for us-earning our living-for the last few years.” Her chin lifted slightly. “I ain’t-am not-doing for Sadie and those lazy boys of hers. They're gonna have to make their own living." "I imagine George plans on putting them to work. He'll provide the heavy hand needed for the job." She looked out over the churning water again.

  "Grandpa don't like to do nothing but sit in his chair on the porch. He's not likely to stir himself to keep Sadie's boys busy. He's used to having things done for him."

  "Maybe you did too much, Rainey," he said gently. "Did you ever think of that? A man needs to feel needed. And George has been feeling useless for a long time now."

  "Useless? Why would he feel that way?" she asked. The wind blew a lock of dark hair across her eyes,

  and he reached out and brushed it aside. "I would feel that way in the same circumstances."

  She thought about his words. “If Grandpa felt useless he could have done something about it . . . could have told me . . . or something. Or, stirred himself and chopped some wood or fetched the water from the spring." A sudden thought struck her. "Do you think he does those things for Sadie?"

  "I doubt it. He'd be more likely to make those boys of hers do those chores."

  "Yes. He would." She thought about her grandfather, the way she'd last seen him, sitting on the porch and rocking back and forth. He watched them leave without saying a word about what he intended, and she felt deeply hurt. She looked at Thorne and realized he read that emotion in her eyes. "Thank you, Thorne."

  "For what?"

  “For being my friend."

  “Haven't I always been?"

  "Yes. But I was afraid you would be different now, since that-that night at the hotel."

  "Forget about that, Rainey," he said, releasing her abruptly. "What happened was a mistake and we can't allow one mistake to come between us."

  "A mistake?" she asked doubtfully.

  "Yes. It was. Now forget about it." He looked toward the horizon. "Beautiful sunrise this morning," he said solemnly. "But those clouds to the north are moving fast. More'n likely it'll rain before the day's gone."

  He was wrong. The storm clouds stayed north of them. And the Voyager moved along at a brisk pace. Rainey spent most of the day on the deck, going below only when the darkness of night was upon them. After taking a sponge bath and donning her nightgown, Rainey was on the point of climbing onto the narrow bunk bed, when a loud scraping sound was followed by a violent lurch that threw her off balance. Throwing out her hands, she clutched desperately at the bed, trying to find something to hold onto as the Voyager lurched again, but the mattress offered no stability. It slid steadily toward the floor, taking her with it.

  Scrape! Oh, God, what's happening? Rainey barely had time for the thought. The boat lurched again, more violently than ever. She w
as thrown hard against the farthest wall. Thrown there as though tossed by a giant hand. She landed with a hard thud and was aware of a brief pain before an all-consuming blackness claimed her.

  Thorne was on the deck when the boat struck the sandbar. He'd been aboard ships enough to know immediately what had happened and headed for the steering wheel as fast as he could run, which wasn't very fast, considering the angle of the boat.

  The captain saw him coming and leaned out of the small window, both hands tugging hard on the wheel.

  "Dammit, man!" Thorne shouted. "Turn this boat aside!" He was already beside the captain before he finished his words.

  "Can't do that," the captain said. "Looks like we're stuck good." He swore roundly. "That damn sandbar wasn't there the last time I was through here."

  "Well, it's there now." Thorne knew the man was a good navigator. He couldn't be blamed for the mishap. The Missouri was a treacherous river, and there was not a man alive who could predict the change in currents. The bottom was sandy and moved at will, waiting beneath the muddy water to trap the unwary traveler.

  "Better call out the crew," the captain said. "We'll need the lot of 'em to estimate damages and get us off this shoal."

  Thorne didn't have to call the crew. They were already assembling to assess the damage. More than an hour had passed before Thorne thought about Rainey. And when he went to her cabin, he found it dark except for the moonlight streaming through the porthole.

  "Rainey," he called. No answer. Only silence. He scanned the room and sucked in a sharp breath of alarm. She lay on the floor, crumpled and unconscious. Hurrying across the room, he knelt beside her supine form. A quick scrutiny found the blood from the cut on her head. He felt along her limbs, but nothing seemed to be broken. "Rainey?" he whispered , cupping her pale check. "Rainey!"

  She groaned and her eyelids fluttered. "Rainey," he said again. Her lids lifted and she stared up at him, her eyes dazed and confused. "Thorne?"

  "Where are you hurt?" he asked.

  "Hurt? I don't know." Her gaze went past him to the bunk, and the dazed expression cleared. "What hap­ pened?" she asked.

  "We struck a sandbar."

  She became suddenly aware of the absence of movement. "Are we stuck?"

  "Yes." He scooped her into his arms. "What are you doing?" "Carrying you to bed." He looked down at her scantily clad form. "We need to get you under the covers." He laid her down on the bed and pulled the quilt up to her neck. His fingers moved to her cheek, tracing lightly across her jawline. His thumb moved across her mouth in a movement that she found arousing.

  Although Rainey felt weak, she became aware of heat seeping through her lower extremities, caused by his caressing touch. She knew she should pull away, yet she could not. Not when the heat of desire was spreading through her lower body so rapidly.

  “Thorne," she said hesitantly. "I don't think-"

  "Hush," he said. "I want nothing more than a kiss from you. Don't deny me that, Rainey." He lowered his mouth and captured hers in a long, arousing kiss. She tasted the saltiness of his flesh and found that, too, was arousing. Her breathing became faster, and her fingers bit into his broad shoulders. She could feel the hard tautness of muscles and sinew as his tongue probed for entrance.

  "No," she said, but she might just as well have remained silent. He used the word to gain entrance to the moist cavern of her mouth, and she shuddered at the quick penetration. When he lifted his head, his eyes were bright with arousal. "Thorne," she whispered, "we can't do this." He seemed to shake himself.

  "You're right," he muttered. "I had better go."

  Even though she'd made him stop, she hadn't wanted him to do so. And it was with a deep sadness, and an ache in her heart and body, that she watched him leave her cabin.

  The Voyager was stuck on the shoal for two days. And during that time, another ship came by, saw their distress, and dropped anchor to offer them help. But their efforts proved useless, the Voyager remained firmly wedged on the shoal.

  Finally, the captain decided to lighten the boat by ferrying its passengers to shore. Rainey was disappointed when Thorne decided to stay behind to help, but she kept that emotion firmly hidden from the others . . . especially from Thorne.

  There were only a few children on the trip, but they screamed and laughed and chased each other frantically in their delight at having been put ashore. Rainey watched them at their games and was almost tempted to join them. But she remembered in time that she was supposed to be a lady of sophistication now. And, if Thorne should come ashore she didn't want him to catch her involved in such foolishness. Not when she'd been trying so hard to convince him that she was a grown woman.

  And there were many times that he did remember, but at those times they seemed to get in over their head. Like the time only a few days ago when he'd found her on the floor. If only she'd kept her mouth shut. He would have made love to her then, she knew. But would he have regretted it? Would she?

  "There's no need to worry so much, pretty lady," a voice suddenly said. "The captain knows what he's about. We'll be on our way soon enough."

  Rainey smiled at the young man who’d spoken. His was a familiar face—she’s probably seen him many times in the past week on board the boat-but they'd never been introduced. “I’m not really worried," she said.

  "Then something else must have put that frown on your face." When she didn't answer, he smiled at her. "I know. I'm prying. But it's my nature to be inquisitive. Or perhaps you just don't want to converse with some­ one you haven't been introduced to." He looked over her head and made a beckoning motion with his hand. "We'll remedy that right now."

  Before Rainey could reply they were joined by a young woman with bright-red hair. "What are you up to now, Sammy?" the girl asked with amusement.

  "I need an introduction to this young woman, Charlotte," the man called Sammy said. "And since you ap­ pear to be a respectable young woman yourself, I decided you would do the honors."

  Charlotte laughed. “I’m Charlotte Cross," she told Rainey. "And this is my irrepressible cousin, Samuel Eugene Cross."

  Rainey smiled at both of them. "I'm Rainey Watson," she said.

  "Rainey?" Sammy questioned. “It doesn't suit you. If your parents were going to name you for the weather, then Sunny would have described you better."

  Rainey laughed and explained the circumstances around her name. Just then, lunch was announced and the three of them went toward the makeshift table where a meal had been set out. They continued to ban­ ter back and forth while they ate, and time passed swiftly without the three of them realizing. When she learned the Cross cousins were stopping in New Orleans only long enough to board another ship, Rainey felt a mild disappointment. She had enjoyed their company immensely. The two of them had kept her from being bored while they were stuck on shore.

  “Where are you bound for?” she asked Charlotte.

  “We’re going to Europe,” Charlotte said. “To Italy. I’m going to study painting there, and Sammy is going along to keep an eye on me.”

  “I’d rather keep an eye on Rainey,” he said, with an irrepressible grin. "But, alas, you will soon be left far behind us." His eyes took on a dark glint suddenly. "A thought just occurred to me, Rainey. Why don't you come with us to Italy?"

  "To Italy?" she questioned, wide-eyed. "My goodness, I don't have money for anything like that. I'm just hill folk."

  "Hill folk?" he questioned.

  "I come from the Ozark Mountains," she explained.

  "The mountains?" He eyed her expensive clothing, making her aware of the reason he'd misunderstood

  her circumstances.

  "I don't usually wear such finery," she explained. "Back in the hills I wore men's clothes. Couldn't have worn anything else while I was following my bee lines. There's too much brush a body has to run through. But I couldn't wear those things here. Thorne wouldn't have allowed it even if I'd had a mind to."

  "Thorne?" Sammy questioned, raising an eyebr
ow. "Who is Thorne, Rainey?"

  "His pa owns the shipping lines. He's the reason I left the mountains. I came with him."

  "This Thorne you speak of," Sammy said. "He wouldn't be Thorne Lassiter, would he?"

  "Yes. That's his name." She smiled at him. "You know him?"

  "Not personally. But I've heard about him."

  "I take it you're not married since you said your name was Watson," Charlotte said, and the warmth that had been there before was somehow missing now. "Are you engaged to Thorne Lassiter?"

  "No," Rainey replied slowly. "But they ain't nothin' about the two of us to raise folks' eyebrows." She realized how she sounded as soon as the words left her mouth, but she couldn't recall those words that branded her as an uneducated hillbilly. Oh, why did she have to revert to that state when she became uncomfortable! And she was uncomfortable. These two, who had befriended her so quickly, had just as quickly abandoned her. She was certain of that. Knew it for a fact when she saw the look on Sam Cross's face as he carefully avoided her eyes.

  It was Charlotte who finally broke the silence that had fallen between them.

  "Well, glory be," she exclaimed in an unusually high voice. "I see a dinghy leaving the Voyager. And there's another one. It looks as though they're coming after us. I guess that means the Voyager is finally afloat again." She clutched at Sammy's arm, curling her fingers around it, and blinked up at him in a seemingly deliberate attempt to ignore Rainey. "Come, Sammy. It's time to gather our things together."

  Heartsick, Rainey watched the two of them leave her. She wanted to protest, to cry out that she was innocent of any wrongdoing, but she could not. Even as she'd claimed there was nothing about her and Thorne's relationship to raise eyebrows, she realized she was wrong. There was plenty to raise eyebrows. Nobody would approve of what they'd done . . . without the benefit of marriage papers.