Patricia Hagan

by Loves Wine

  “Today,” Holly whispered, trancelike, as her lips moved across his face. “Today is all that matters.”

  He took his time, igniting every fire in her. His fingers danced where no man had ever touched before, caressing between her thighs to create a frenzy of longing within the velvet recesses of her most intimate self. Needles of pleasure pierced into her belly and she whimpered and writhed.

  Suddenly, she felt a new sensation building, as though she were about to explode. Her teeth sank into his broad shoulder. He withdrew his probing fingers and she cried, “No, no, don’t stop, please…”

  “Stop?” he smiled down at her. “Oh, my darling, I have only just begun.”

  He carried her up to the moss-covered bank. The sun was low, casting shadows of silver and rose.

  He lay hovering over her and gently drove into her, slowing as she stiffened with pain. Quickly, her longing for fulfillment took over again and she clung to him, nails digging into his hard back. She wanted him to consume her. Nothing else mattered. She reveled in this first sweet taste of passion. There was no other world but this, no other time but now…

  Much later, when Scott lay beside her, his arm across her possessively as he slept, Holly wondered at the sadness of it. Today would end, wouldn’t it? Yet how could any woman forget such glory?

  Chapter Four

  Dawn spread a misty, golden haze across the waters of the cover. The feathery pink blossoms of a mimosa tree bobbed in the gentle morning breeze. Crickets sang their last choruses, while birds began their day songs.

  A velvet-nosed deer crept from the green shadows of the forest to drink at the water’s edge. Spying the man and woman asleep on the mossy bank, he stared for an instant, then bolted back to safety.

  Hearing his crashing sounds, Holly awoke. She stared down at Scott, so peaceful beside her. Staring at the lean, hard lines of his perfect body, she thrilled at the memory of their night. What did she feel for this fiercely enticing stranger? Love? The desire to become his wife, bear his children? No, she told herself firmly. He was returning to his world, and she must remain in hers.

  As though the thundering turmoil within her could be heard, Scott Colter awoke and smiled up at her lazily. “I like to wake up next to a woman and see her looking happy,” he murmured.

  Holly stiffened. He sounded so pleased with himself, and the idea that his loving might have been a performance chilled her.

  She moved away from him, glad she had pulled on Grandpa’s shirt during the night. Slipping quickly into her trousers, she tied the rope belt. He watched her. “What’s wrong, Holly?” There was an edge to his voice. “You don’t have any regrets, do you?”

  “Last night was last night.” Her voice was sharper than she’d meant it to be. Then, more softly, she said, “This is the tomorrow we thought might not come, Scott. It did. Now life has to go on. You’ll be returning to Texas, and I’ve got my life here.”

  He did not, she noticed, seem to mind his nakedness, for he made no move to reach for his clothes.

  “You really were a virgin.”

  She stared at him. “What did you expect?”

  He rolled over on his side. “All of this has been awfully strange. I meet a pretty woodland sprite, spend one of the nicest days I’ve had in four years, then one of the most passionate nights. For someone who’s never been with a man, you cast aside inhibitions very easily.”

  “You make me sound like a trollop!” Hot tears stung her eyes. “Besides,” she added hotly, “you’re obviously very experienced. You just made me…weak, that’s all.” Her voice trailed off, and she turned away, washed with embarrassment.

  He sprang up with the litheness of a panther. He gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face his burning gaze. “Don’t do this to us, Holly. Don’t make me sound like a seducer, and don’t let childhood teachings mar our memories. It doesn’t have to end, you know.”

  She gave her long, tangled hair a toss. “Oh, sure. We can do it again today, can’t we? Maybe tonight, too. We can do it till you have to leave for Texas. And then what?”

  He raised an eyebrow, hands falling from her shoulders. “I can’t offer you anything else, sprite. Not now. Maybe one day—”

  Cinnamon eyes flashed. “Don’t call me pet names, Scott, I’m not a child. And did you think I was hinting for you to make a decent woman of me? I don’t want to marry you or any other man.”

  He chuckled. “You’re so damned independent. No, I wasn’t insinuating that you were after a husband. All I’m saying is that I’d like to get to know you better. If you’ll let me.”

  “All right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so defensive,” she apologized. “But you are going to Texas and it does have to end.”

  His jaw tensed and a shadow fell across his face.

  “I may stay in Vicksburg for a while.”

  She blinked. “Vicksburg? With the damn Yankee soldiers and carpetbaggers? Well, you won’t see much of me then, sir, I promise you that. I don’t plan to go near that place if I can help it. My mother can cozy up to those bastards, but I can’t.”

  He reached out and gave her a shake. “Damn it, Holly, do you have to hate every Yankee? You’re going to let bitterness ruin your life. You can’t keep on hating. Sooner or later hate will destroy you.”

  She knocked his hands away. “Then so be it. I’d rather be dead than compromise my beliefs!”

  He was silent for a moment. Then, with a resigned sigh, he told her, “Very well, Holly. There was something I wanted to try to explain to you, but now isn’t the time.”

  “Can we just enjoy the morning?” she challenged, exasperated.

  Slowly, fighting something inside himself, he nodded. “I’ll have to leave this afternoon, but the morning is ours.”

  After they bathed in the cool water, they made their way down to the rolling Mississippi River. Another fisherman Holly knew, a friend of Grandpa’s, obliged them with fried catfish cakes and cold potato soup for lunch. They washed the tasty fare down with cups of sweet strawberry cider. By then, she and Scott were easy with each other, enjoying the wonders of the wilderness at its most serene.

  Scott asked to visit her grandfather’s shack, and Holly was puzzled but led the way. After he had inspected the one-room place, he asked bluntly, “How can you plan to live here after growing up in the luxury of Magnolia Hall? Can you get used to this?”

  She shrugged. “Actually, I spent more time here than I did at home. I loved it here, and I never minded the lack of comforts because I was with Grandpa.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “But I don’t think this is what you really want, Holly.”

  The tension returned.

  “I think I know what I want better than you, Scott, and I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “Maybe you need to discuss it with yourself,” he said. “It isn’t this cabin, or a simple life in the wilds that you want. You want escape, because you aren’t woman enough to face life. So you retreat to the woods and hide out like a little girl. You may have the body of a woman, and the passion, but you’re still just a little girl. Maybe you always will be.”

  Lips trembling, she cried, “I don’t give a damn what you think, Scott Colter. And don’t concern yourself with me. You live your life and I’ll live mine, thank you.”

  Gazing down at her tenderly, he said, “I suppose you’re right. I told you this morning there was something I wanted to explain to you, but I see now it wouldn’t make any difference.”

  Suddenly, so there was no time for her to resist, he grabbed her and kissed her, deeply. And just as abruptly, he released her and walked away, disappearing into the woods.

  Damn him to hell! Who the hell did he think he was, to seduce her, preach to her, and then just walk away?

  Her scream reverberated through the still swamps. “I hate you, Scott Colter. You’re no better than a goddamn Yankee!”

  Later, forcing Scott out of her mind, she walked around the cottage, taking inventory of her new world
. Grandpa had made the furniture. There were two beds, one fitted neatly on top of the other, each frame nailed to tall wooden posts. Grandpa had always slept in the lower, because she loved the adventure of scampering up to the high bed.

  A fireplace made of river stones was set in one wall, large enough for a big iron pot to cook tasty catfish stews.

  Grandpa’s old, worn rocking chair sat to one side, and Holly placed a loving hand on the sampler across the back. God Bless Our Home had been embroidered so long ago by her grandmother, and the stitching and colors were as faded as Holly’s memory of the woman who had died when Holly was five.

  The center of the thin plank floor was dominated by a long wooden table, benches along both sides. Here she had sat, captivated, by the hour, listening to Grandpa’s stories. He’d made everything so alive, so real.

  She acknowledged silently that there was little comfort here except for memories.

  She walked slowly to the door and looked at the inlet beyond. “A stone’s throw from the water,” Grandpa had often declared. “I never want to be farther from the water than that.”

  She stepped outside onto the porch and saw Grandpa’s old cane fishing poles propped neatly against the log wall of the cabin. Buckets, now empty and rusting, were for minnows and worms.

  She sat down on one of the three stone porch steps and watched the sunset, determined not to think, not to let anything intrude on the quiet.

  The stillness was broken a few minutes later by the sound of horses’ hooves and wagon wheels. She jumped up and ran around the cabin to the front. Her mother was alighting from a smart carriage. Warily, Holly asked, “Where did you get that?”

  Claudia’s face flushed only slightly as she brushed at the skirts of her new blue taffeta day dress. It was very becoming, with a high collar edged in delicately tatted lace, tiny embroidered pink satin rosebuds dotting the bodice. The wide, white-ribboned waist was just right for Claudia.

  Lifting her chin, she met Holly’s challenging gaze with her own hard stare. “I will ask the questions. I will start by asking where have you been for the past two days. I’ve been frantic with worry.” She paused for an angry breath. “Where did you get the money to pay the taxes on this worthless piece of land? The story is all over Vicksburg. People are wondering where a young girl got that kind of money.”

  Holly checked her temper. The showdown was bound to come sooner or later. “I sold Grandma’s brooch.”

  Claudia clutched her throat. “Dear heavenly Father, tell me you didn’t!”

  “I did. I paid the taxes, and this place is mine. No one is going to take it from me, including your carpetbagger friend, Jarvis Bonham.”

  Claudia shook her head from side to side, the ribbons on her straw bonnet whipping around her face. “How could you? The brooch was yours. There were other things you could have used the money for. And you can’t stay here anyway. I won’t allow it. It’s not safe or proper for a young girl to live alone.”

  Her mother moved toward her, but Holly stood her ground. “I mean you no disrespect, Mother, but my life is my own to live as I choose, and I choose to live here. I made Grandpa a promise on his deathbed. I promised I’d never lose his land and I’ve kept that promise.”

  Claudia nodded. “Yes, yes, darling, I know. But you’ve kept your promise by paying the taxes. The land is yours. That doesn’t mean you have to live on it.” She glanced around. “Move into Vicksburg with me. Abby’s house is large. You can have a social life again, friends, young men to court you. The people of Vicksburg are sick of war and anxious to start living normally again. You’ll be happy there. Don’t be stubborn, Holly. There’s no life for you here.”

  Holly shook her head defiantly. “There’s nothing for me in Vicksburg. For the time being, everything I want is here. One day, maybe I’ll feel differently, but I need time, Mother. Please understand.”

  Claudia sighed, knowing full well that her daughter had inherited her grandfather’s and her father’s stubbornness. When her mind was set, there was no changing it. “I suppose there’s nothing to do but let you see for yourself how miserable you’re going to be. Sooner or later, you’ll come to your senses. In the meantime, I’ll pray nothing terrible happens while you’re here.”

  Holly looked beyond her mother at the carriage and asked again, “Where did you get it?”

  A mysterious little smile touched Claudia’s lips. “Jarvis was nice enough to lend it to me.”

  Holly thought for a moment, then surprised Claudia by saying, “If he’s a friend of yours, and he’s being nice to you, then I won’t be rude about it.”

  “He wants to be your friend, too,” Claudia said hopefully, relief buoying her hopes.

  “Don’t rush me into anything, Mother.”

  Cautious again, Claudia ventured, “I’ll be honest with you, dear.” She touched Holly’s shoulder in a fond gesture. “I want to show you off. I want you at Jarvis’s party. You’re so pretty, and if we do something with that dreadful hair, you’ll be beautiful. We need to have your dress fitted, and—oh, Holly!” She shook her head. “You aren’t even listening to me, are you?”

  “Daydreaming,” Holly said quickly, guiltily. Her mother would surely have a spell if she knew what her daughter was thinking about. Her daughter…with a man? Lying naked and moaning with joy?

  Quickly, Holly said, “If you really want me to go to Mr. Bonham’s party, I will.”

  Claudia hugged her. “You’ve made me so happy, Holly. I don’t want us to quarrel. I love you.”

  Holly nodded. “I love you too, Mother. We’ll try to get along. I promise I’ll try my best to behave and make you proud of me.” Inside, Holly felt her demons rumbling, and she knew it would take every bit of self-control to behave. For her mother’s sake, she had to try.

  When they reached the outskirts of Vicksburg, Holly felt the familiar sadness. This was where her father had died. How happy he’d been, she remembered bitterly, to be sent here. His eyes had shone when he explained how important was the defense of Vicksburg. The Yankees, he had declared, would want it desperately.

  He had been right.

  Finally, her mother declared happily, “That’s Abby’s house.”

  Holly reined the horses in and looked up at the large white frame house set back from the tree-lined street. There was a wide, sweeping porch with narrow, ornate posts. The lawn was neatly kept, dotted here and there with crepe myrtles trimmed to shrubs. There were a few dogwood trees and several magnolias.

  A plump woman wearing a dress of pale blue muslin was sweeping the brick steps, and as she saw them she smiled and waved. Hurrying down the sidewalk, she called out gaily, “Claudia! You found Holly and brought her back with you. Oh, I’m so glad.”

  She reached the carriage as the two women alighted, and she embraced first Claudia, then Holly. “I’m Abby Pearson, and you don’t know how pleased I am that you’re going to be staying with us. I’ve got lots of room, and it’ll be like having another daughter. Your mother already seems like a sister.”

  Holly smiled and responded politely, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Pearson.” Then she decided to get things straight from the start and added, “But I’ll only be here for a couple of nights. I promised Mother I’d go to the party with her. After that, I’ve got to go home. I’ve a lot to do there.”

  Claudia and Abby exchanged glances, Abby puzzled and Claudia weary.

  They turned toward the house, but just then a man’s voice called to Claudia. They waited as he approached.

  He was not very tall, and of medium build. He was very well dressed. A carpetbagger, Holly decided. He directed a smile at her, which she acknowledged with a polite, cold nod. With dark, waving hair and a thin mustache, he was not unattractive, but there was something about his eyes that Holly found distinctly unappealing. “Holly,” her mother was saying, “I’d like you to meet Jarvis’s son, Roger.”

  Roger Bonham bowed and murmured, “You are almost as beautiful as your mother, Holly.”<
br />
  Claudia laughed. “And you are almost as charming as your father, Roger.” Then she hastened to add, “I was going to send the carriage over. You didn’t have to make a trip to get it.”

  He waved away her apology. “I thought you might be tired, and I wanted to save you the trouble.”

  Claudia clasped his hand. “You’re so kind to me, Roger, and so is your father. I hope you both know how much I appreciate your friendship.”

  “We do,” he assured her. To Holly, he said, “Will you be at Father’s party tomorrow night? I would consider it an honor if you would save me a dance.”

  Before she could reply, Claudia interjected, “Of course she will, but”—she winked teasingly—“aren’t you afraid Lisa Lou will be jealous?”

  He stiffened slightly, his eyes even colder as he remarked that he could surely not be expected to refrain from mingling with guests at his father’s party.

  Claudia laughed good-naturedly. “Well, I’ve known Lisa Lou since she was a baby. She’s always been spoiled and had her own way. I can’t imagine her taking your flirting with other girls gracefully, Roger, but that’s your business. Holly would love to dance with you.”

  Holly did not speak, did not smile. She had no intention of dancing with Roger Bonham or anybody else. She would go to the party and be polite, but that was all. Her mother would have to realize sooner or later how useless it was to push men at her.

  Roger bade them good-bye and hurried to the carriage. Hoisting himself up onto the seat, he watched as Holly went into the house. Despite her baggy, worn clothes, he could tell that she had a lovely body. Young, innocent, probably naive…he would have no trouble getting what he wanted, her land, and that delectable body as well.

  He popped the reins to start the horse moving, and he frowned. The girl was stubborn. He had seen that in her determination to hang on to her little parcel of land. He might not have an easy time with her, but it was going to be a challenge he’d enjoy.