Bicycle Built for Two

by Duncan, Alice

  “Please don’t stop, Alex. It—it feels good.”

  “It feels good to me, too, Kate. Your skin is as soft as a baby’s.”

  “You have a lot of experience with babies, do you?”

  He glanced up at her as if he wondered what she meant. Kate wished she hadn’t said it, even though she’d meant it as a joke. “Well, only my younger brother and sisters,” he said at last. He didn’t stop his tantalizing work with his hands.

  “It was a joke, Alex,” she said when she could catch her breath.

  “Ah. I thought you believed me to be a roue or something.”

  “No. I don’t. I never did. Not even when I hated you.”

  Again he glanced up at her. “You don’t hate me any longer?”

  Lord, no. Kate shook her head. As he started rolling down her other stocking, she whispered. “No. I don’t hate you any longer, Alex.”

  “Good.”

  I love you. She didn’t say that. Couldn’t. Felt too stupid about it.

  She didn’t feel stupid about the sensations he was creating in her body. He’d gently tugged her second stocking off and was depositing soft, sweet kisses on her calf. She braced herself on the bed, fearing she might float straight up and bounce off the ceiling if she didn’t.

  When he scrambled up off his knees and sat beside her, she turned into his embrace as if they’d been doing this since the beginning of time. His kisses were hot and sweet and made her head swim. Her hands drove her to the brink of madness. Her nipples pebbled instantly under his touch. When he took the tip between his teeth, she thought she might swoon. Imagine that. Kate Finney, child of the streets, swooning in a gentleman’s arms.

  Because she had some basic knowledge of how the act of love was carried out, even if she’d never been involved in it herself, Kate returned Alex’s caresses with all the passion that had been building in her for twenty-two years. Until this moment, she’d half expected to go to her grave without having expressed any of it. But this was Alex. She loved him. She gave him everything.

  He had muscles like Hercules. She didn’t know why she should be surprised. He’d told her often enough that farming was hard, physical work, and she’d watched with her own eyes as he’d leveled her scoundrel of a father. She guessed it was because he always dressed so stylishly. Kate had always thought of rich, stylish men as flabby and self-indulgent. And there was always the truth that he was a farmer, and when she’d thought about farmers, which she’d seldom done before she met him, she’d thought of them as skinny old men with white beards and stooped shoulders. Showed how much she knew.

  His mouth traveled from her breast to her stomach, and Kate gasped. “Oh, Alex!”

  “Does this feel good, darling?”

  After she gasped again, she breathed, “Stupid question.”

  His chuckle did its usual damage to her self-control. Not that she had much left.

  “Here. Let me take care of this impediment.”

  Only then did she realize he’d been unlacing her corset. He flung it aside and began unbuttoning her chemise. She was glad to part with both.

  “And this one.”

  This time he referred to his own clothing. In a flash, he’d shed his jacket, shirt and tie, and Kate was gratified to be able to view the muscles she’d only felt seconds earlier. His chest hair was like curly silk when she ran her fingers over his hard torso. “You’re like a god, Alex,” she whispered, feeling foolish.

  “I work at it,” he said, laughing, but obviously pleased with himself. Kate’s feeling of foolishness evaporated. “You’re pretty much of a goddess yourself.”

  She smiled and said, “Thanks,” in a joking tone, but she was glad he thought she was pretty. And suitable, even, more or less—although she didn’t believe he truly wanted to marry her. He was only being nice about that. She’d worked hard to rid herself of the outward vestiges of her low-class heritage. For years, she’d dressed properly, spoken properly, and tried to behave properly, although that one often eluded her.

  Slowly, he lowered her to the bed, so that she was on her back, and he held her and kissed her hard. Her arms wrapped around his back and she caressed the rock-hard sinews hewn by hard labor that were Alex’s own heritage. It seemed strange to her that she’d never considered people in other walks of life from hers as having to work hard. Maybe hard work wasn’t the sole provenance of the lower classes. Maybe some folks worked hard to achieve their exalted stations in life. By this time, she was willing to grant Alex English his place in society as having been achieved, rather than having been bestowed as a birthright.

  She realized he’d unbuttoned her skirt. He was working faster than her brain could assimilate all the new experiences and sensations he was evoking in her. Because she felt left behind, she decided to assume a more aggressive role in what should, by rights, be a joint enterprise. She reached for his trouser buttons.

  “Oh, Lord!”

  His cry sounded like one of anguish, and Kate drew her hands away as if they’d been burned. “Alex! Oh, Alex, did I hurt you?”

  He’d sunk his head onto the pillow next to Kate’s head and looked as if he were in agony. But he shook his head “no.” Confused, Kate whispered, “Alex? What’s wrong?”

  Still shaking his head, he moaned, “Nothing. I didn’t expect that.”

  Uh-oh. “Um, did I do something wrong?”

  “Lord, no. Feel free. Everything you’re doing is right.”

  He sounded as though he were in pain. Kate didn’t understand, but she was willing to take him at his word. Reaching once more for his trouser buttons, she hesitated momentarily when he groaned again. She decided this must be part of the routine, although she still didn’t understand, and proceeded to unfasten the buttons. His erect member pressed hard against them, and Kate had to struggle. After the second button popped free of its buttonhole, she realized that, rather than pain, Alex was experiencing some sort of pleasant torture as she moved from button to button.

  “Um,” she said, “I’ve never done this before. Let me know if I do something wrong.”

  “I will.” He was short of breath, and the two words escaped on a gasp of pleasure.

  Kate began to feel rather powerful when she understood the effect she was having on Alex. And then he removed her drawers and cupped his hand over her most secret place, and all power fled in a rush of sensation. “Alex!”

  “This is good, Kate. This is perfect. This is what men and women do. And to think we’ll be married soon and can do it any time we please.”

  She couldn’t speak. She scarcely heard him. His fingers had started rubbing, very gently, over the center and core of her femininity. She was wet down there, and Alex was using her own moisture to lubricate his movements. She crammed a hand into her mouth for fear she’d scream and wake up the whole house. A very few seconds later, she was glad for her caution when Alex’s magic fingers drove her to a pinnacle of pleasure she’d never dreamed of before this night.

  For what seemed like forever, Kate’s body reacted to Alex’s ministrations. Wave after wave of sensation rocked her. She seemed to float out of herself for a moment. It was Alex’s voice that brought her back to earth again.

  “Ah, Kate, that was beautiful. You’re beautiful. My darling, darling Kate. You’re perfect. We’re perfect together.”

  They were what? She was what? The sentiments he was expressing seemed so opposed to everything she’d believed since she’d met him that Kate couldn’t take them in. Then he was kneeling over her and guiding his rigid sex to the seat of her pleasure, and her thoughts scattered yet again.

  With a powerful lunge, Alex conquered her virginity. It wasn’t a painful capitulation. Kate was more shocked than hurt, and then she held on for dear life as Alex moved in her, harder and faster, until his release came with a shout he muffled in the pillow. Kate still held tight, feeling his hard muscles slip under her fingers because of his perspiration. She loved him so much. Burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder, s
he allowed herself to wish for his love in return. Kate wasn’t one to spend time in idle fancies, but she allowed herself that one, knowing it wouldn’t last long.

  Tomorrow she’d go back to Chicago and start working her two jobs again and try to start to forget. Fat chance of that ever happening. Still, she’d survive. She always had, and she always would.

  “God, Kate.”

  Alex’s voice was ragged and almost inaudible, muffled as it was in the pillows. She squeezed him as tightly as she could—his skin was slippery with sweat and her arms slid, but she didn’t care. In fact, she laughed. “I’m so happy, Alex.” It was a confession she hadn’t meant to make, but she didn’t think it would hurt—at least not yet. Kate had learned a long time ago that one had to pay for one’s moments of happiness. Sometimes the price was high, sometimes it wasn’t. She feared the price for this was going to be higher than any other she’d had to pay so far.

  “Me, too.” With what seemed to Kate like a huge effort, Alex heaved himself to her side. Without giving her a chance to think about anything, he wrapped her up in his arms and drew her tightly to his body.

  “Alex . . .”

  “Hush, Kate. Just be quiet now, and go to sleep. This is the beginning of a beautiful life together. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow. I’m too exhausted to think right now, much less talk.”

  That suited Kate fine. She didn’t want to talk anyhow. So, instead of talking, she turned her head as far as her neck would allow her to, and kissed what she could reach of Alex’s face, which turned out to the tip of his nose. “‘Night, Alex.”

  He laughed softly and kissed her back. He could reach her hair, so that’s what his lips touched. “Good-night, Kate. Sleep tight.”

  “Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” she said, drawing from a childhood joke, although it hadn’t been a joke for the Finney children.

  Alex chuckled, then yawned. It wasn’t long before Kate heard his deep, regular breathing. With a sigh, she decided to shelve all her questions and problems and take Alex’s advice for once, without arguing. It wasn’t long before she, too, slept.

  # # #

  Alex woke up early the morning following his night with Kate, feeling better than he’d felt in a long time. Maybe ever. He wanted to leap out of bed and dance around the room but didn’t want to awaken Kate, who needed her sleep.

  What a wonder she was. And how lucky he was to have caught her. She’d make an excellent wife. A perfect wife. She had none of the flaws possessed by the other ladies he’d considered. Kate Finney wasn’t a giggler. And she wasn’t a pedant. Nor was she stupid.

  She was not merely smart and pretty, but she was self-sufficient—perhaps a little too self-sufficient at times. That might be considered a flaw, but it wasn’t a huge one. Anyhow, it was overwhelmed by the fact that she had an unsurpassed capacity for love and loyalty. And besides all that, he . . . well, he loved her.

  As he darted around the room picking up his clothes, Alex knew he must have a sappy grin on his face. He was going to do something even sappier. He was going to rush downstairs to the barn and take the cover from the two-person bicycle he’d bought for his parents in a fit of filial idiocy several years before.

  His father had been amused but disapproving. Mr. English didn’t condone spending money foolishly.

  Alex’s mother had thought it was a precious, albeit silly gift. Alex thought he recalled them riding it twice. Maybe only once. Neither of his parents possessed the ability to appreciate something that might be considered out of the way. Kate did. She’d love the absurd bicycle. He knew it.

  Kate wouldn’t think it was a nonsensical thing. She’d adore it. Alex knew her pretty well by this time, and he knew darned well that there wasn’t a single stuffy thing about her.

  Because he felt a tremendous sense of responsibility toward Kate’s mother, after he’d washed up and donned fresh clothes, he tiptoed into her room to assess her condition. As he leaned over her while she slept, he had the unpleasant knowledge that her condition, as it had been yesterday and weeks earlier, could only be assessed as mortal. His heart crunched. Mrs. Finney was on her last legs. Her breathing had eased a bit as she slept, but she still labored to draw in enough breath to sustain her feeble hold on life.

  Alex’s determination to get that bicycle out of the barn intensified. Mrs. Finney would love watching her daughter and the man she was going to marry riding on that thing. It would make her happy. Therefore, it was good that Alex had splurged on the bicycle, no matter what his father had thought.

  After he’d determined that Mrs. Finney still lived, even if she was sicker than any other person he’d ever seen including his father, who had died suddenly of an apoplectic stroke, Alex tiptoed out of her room, raced down the stairs and out to the barn. He flew to the bicycle propped against the far wall and yanked off the blanket that had covered it for a year or more. Dust and hay particles flew every which way, but—Alex hooted with delight—the bicycle was as clean as a whistle and the tires were still full of air. He wheeled it out of the barn and up to the porch, where he propped it against the house.

  Whistling happily, he reentered the house. Kate stood at the top of the staircase, clad in her bathrobe, clutching it to her chin. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, and she looked worried. Fearing his departure had caused this state of apprehension in her, Alex ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

  “Kate!” He grabbed her in his arms, whirled her around, and ended with a smacking kiss on her lips.

  Her apprehensive expression melted into giggles. “Put me down, you ridiculous man!”

  “I might be ridiculous, but I’m happy.”

  “I’m glad, Alex.” She hugged him hard, and he felt about a hundred feet tall. It was odd how loving someone could affect a fellow so strongly. Of course, he had no idea if she loved him, but she would. He’d see to it. Alex had faith in himself and his persuasive abilities. He’d be so wonderful to her, she wouldn’t be able to help herself after a while.

  He put her down with a thump that rattled her teeth. “Kate!” He lifted her in his arms again. “Did I hurt you?”

  She was laughing so hard, he could hardly understand her answer. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

  “Good.” He let her down more gently. “Get dressed, Kate. I have something to show you.”

  “Oh? What?”

  “You’ll see.” He smirked at her.

  She didn’t smirk back. “I dunno, Alex. I’m not fond of surprises.”

  Her comment startled him. “You’re not? Why not?”

  “Most of the surprises in my life haven’t been great.”

  “Ah.” His heart did a back flip. “We’ll change all that, Kate. You just wait and see.”

  Her grin eased his aching heart some. “Well . . . All right. I’ll get dressed. But before I see your surprise, I want to make sure Ma’s all right.”

  He sobered at once. “Of course. I’ll go with you.”

  “After I get dressed.” She laughed again, and turned pink.

  Completely charmed, Alex sighed. He knew he had a huge, foolish grin on his face, and he couldn’t have cared less if he’d tried. “I’ll go sit with her while you get dressed.”

  “Thank you, Alex. You’re truly a good man.” She reached up, cupped his cheek in her hand, and Alex wanted to purr like one of Mary Jo’s stupid barn cats. He watched her turn and go to her room, and had to shake himself out of a Kate-induced trance.

  Mrs. Finney had awakened by this time, although she hadn’t tried to sit up. She looked even sicker today than she had the day before. Alex wouldn’t have thought such a thing possible until he saw her. Her head barely turned on her pillow and her eyes, sunken and watery, belied the smile she forced for his benefit. It hurt his heart to know how much she had to struggle for the least little amenity—like smiling at somebody in the morning.

  To counteract her misery and his own knowledge of her perilous condition, Alex put a bounce in his step and a broad smi
le on his face. He felt akin to Kate and decided that was appropriate. “How’s Mrs. Finney this morning?”

  Rather than speak—Alex presumed she didn’t dare speak for fear she’d precipitate a coughing fit—she nodded her head about an eighth of an inch.

  “I’ve got a surprise for your daughter,” he informed her, keeping his tone jolly. “After breakfast, you and Mother can sit on the front porch and see it, too.” He winked. “Mary Jo will be jealous.”

  She still didn’t talk to him, and he guessed he’d have to get serious at last. “Do you need some medicine, Mrs. Finney? Can I help you sit up?”

  She nodded twice, from which Alex guessed both suggestions would be helpful to her. “I’ll pour you out some tonic,” he muttered, heading to the night table. She must be wretchedly weak if she couldn’t even reach that far. “Let me put my arm at your back.”

  “Thank you.” The words were a mere breath of air.

  His smile broadened, although he felt like shrieking imprecations to the heavens about the unfairness of life. “Here we go.” As gently as gently could be, Alex lifted her. She didn’t weigh more than ninety pounds. Probably less. His heart cramped again when the movement provoked a spasm of coughing.

  Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. He hated this.

  “Here. Use this, Mrs. Finney.” He whipped the clean handkerchief from his jacket pocket and pressed it into her hand.

  Then he politely turned away and poured a dose of medicine into the glass he’d brought up the night before. He couldn’t stand to watch the poor woman cough like that, and he knew the bloody phlegm she produced embarrassed her. As if any of this were her fault.

  “Ma!”

  Alex started when Kate barreled into the room. He whirled around, miraculously not spilling a drop of the precious tonic. “Good Gad, Kate, you scared the life out of me.”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t even look at him as she raced to her mother. “Take it easy, Ma. Let me help you.”

  Feeling superfluous and ignored and knowing he was being an ass, Alex swallowed his emotions. “I poured out a dose of her medicine.”