Logan gritted his teeth, trying to hold on to his anger. “In case you forgot, I’m also part Mexican.”
“And how convenient for you. I can imagine it’s a great relief to be able to choose who you want to be on any given day. But for me, it doesn’t work like that. I’ve been handed two disadvantages, and it doesn’t matter if I’m an educated free woman or a runaway slave, I will always be just a Negro woman. Easily disregarded and disrespected.”
Silence fell between them like a heavy stone and they stood glaring at each other. So much for keeping his temper in check, he thought. But when he let her words penetrate, he understood where her frustration stemmed. He could understand not wanting others to define or judge who he was because of what he looked like. He couldn’t fault her for feeling the same way.
Logan sighed. “Okay, come on. Let’s find someplace a little more welcoming.”
Except finding a lodge accepting Negros was harder than he’d anticipated. In the end, he had to bribe and pay a sizeable fee to “lease” out an abandoned train caboose for the night. The rustic red train car with the faded words “Pacific Railroad” painted on the side. It sat in a desolate patch far enough away from the town to keep trouble from wandering this far out to them.
Though the real challenge would be spending one more night with her close by while trying not to touch her.
~~~
Gracie made the best of their accommodations, which wasn’t the greatest, but it certainly beat putting up with the bigots in this unruly town. The first tavern keep had been the friendliest in his disdain of her. The other lodgings wouldn’t even allow her inside. It had been disheartening to be faced with such discrimination this far west of the country. It was as if no matter how far they ventured, she and every Negro would be treated as second-class citizens—or worse.
Luckily, with Logan’s persistence, they had managed to find a suitable place to lay their heads for the night. There were no furnishings inside the abandoned caboose, but he had managed to purchase a kerosene lamp and some blankets, which they spread across the worn floorboards.
She glanced over at him, the soft glow of the lamp highlighting his striking, dark features as he sat on the blanket, his back pressed against the peeling wall of the caboose. Guilt over her verbal attack toward him gnawed at her. He had only been trying to help, and she had let her frustration with the white tavern keeper get the better of her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t encountered prejudice before. New York was riddled with whites who held this wild notion of supremacy and staunchly believed against miscegenation.
But then there were others who saw people for who they were and didn’t put themselves above others, like Mrs. Dobson—and Logan. Despite the fact that he had fought for a system that was designed to strip people of their basic rights as humans.
Gracie settled down beside him and began to spread their simple meal across the blanket. “I’m sorry about my outburst earlier,” she said quietly, keeping her focus on her task, not quite meeting his gaze.
He shrugged. “Don’t apologize for speaking your mind. At least not with me.”
A small smile threatened to tug at her lips. She knew he liked purposely goading her into arguments, being contrary and often contradicting himself. It had taken her a while to pick up on his ploy, and she wasn’t sure why he insisted on provoking her, but then, she enjoyed their spirited discussions too much to call him out on it.
“No, it wasn’t very polite of me to attack you like that. Not when you’ve been nothing but kind to me and helpful these past few days.”
He said nothing, and they concentrated on their simple supper of cornbread and cured meat. She couldn’t believe how fast time had crept up on her. By tomorrow night, she would be in Montana—in her future husband’s home—and tonight would be just a distant memory.
She scoffed at herself, recognizing that lie. She would never forget the time she spent with Logan, even if part of that time had been in a dingy, dark caboose in the middle of nowhere.
She certainly wouldn’t forget when he had pressed his lips against her neck on the train platform.
Gracie trembled again from the memory, wondering what had been going through his mind when he’d done that. It had been completely unexpected, and yet her body had craved more.
“Why Colorado?” she blurted, wanting to fill the silence with anything but her scandalous thoughts and memories.
He shrugged. “Seemed like a good place as any to settle down and start a new life.”
“Do you miss your old one?”
He was silent again for a moment. “That life wasn’t really mine.” After a short pause, he asked, “What about you? Why did you decide to sell yourself into marriage?”
She frowned at his choice of words, but couldn’t deny them. “I wanted to help my family. With my father’s injury, work is hard to come by. And being a black man in a state flooded with immigrants makes it even harder, especially since there aren’t many jobs around to begin with. This was just another way I could help provide for my family.”
And not be a burden.
Though her family had never made her feel anything but loved, she knew that as a soon-to-be nineteen-year-old it was time she started a family of her own. Moving west hadn’t been ideal, but there weren’t many marriageable men back east—at least, none that had been as generous as Mr. Whitaker.
Yet Gracie tried not to think of Madeline or the envy that still clawed at her at the other woman’s daring to follow her heart’s desires.
“If you had a choice,” Logan said quietly, “would you go through with this marriage?”
Gracie glanced at him, startled. It was as if he’d read her thoughts, and yet she had never given the idea any serious consideration. She slowly shook her head, his gaze piercing into her.
“Why not? Your fiancé seem to be very well off. You would want for nothing.”
Except the freedom to choose who I want to love and give my body to.
Her face heated at the thought. “It’s not that I don’t want to get married,” Gracie said carefully. “I just wish I had a chance to do more, to have more going for myself than being some man’s wife.”
His lips curved up. “What’s the role of the woman if not to be a good wife and mother?”
She narrowed her eyes at him before she shook her head with a soft laugh. “Nice try, Logan Finley, but I will not spar with you this night!”
He chuckled. “Coward.”
“Misogynist.”
They grinned at each other like two idiots before she glanced away and stared into the soft glow of the kerosene lamp.
“I sometimes wonder what the Lord has in store for me,” she murmured. “If Montana is the place I’m supposed to be and if Mr. Whitaker is who I’m supposed to be with.”
He was silent for so long. She glanced over at him to find him staring blindly into the light too. There was a distant look in his dark eyes, as if he was lost in the memories of his past, and she wanted to reach out to him, to bring him back to the present—to her.
“Logan?”
“I often wonder the same thing,” he finally said. “Finding my place in this world, that is. It seems like no matter where I go, I’m always on this endless search for my purpose in this life.” He glanced up at her then, his eyes bleak. “And I’m still trying to find it.”
Gracie moved closer to him and took his hand in hers. Surprise flashed across his face, but before she could remember herself and pull away, he tightened his grip and pulled her closer.
“Oh!” She fell against him, bracing her palms against his broad shoulders. She lost herself in his molten gaze as they stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like forever. She read the yearning in his and was sure they mirrored her own. His gaze shifted down to her lips, and her breath caught in anticipation. “Logan…I-I’m going to be married.”
He released a low sound that was a mixture of a growl and groan. “Believe me, angel, I haven’t forgotten that.”
For a brief moment, she did. She stared down at his mouth and wondered what it would be like to feel those sensuous lips against hers. Whenever he touched her, her heart and body fluttered in a way it never had for another man, and she wanted to feel that again.
“I’m going to break my promise, Gracie.”
She frowned. “What—”
Before she could react, he pulled her to him and brought his lips down to hers. She gasped softly, but instead of pushing him away, her fingers curled around his shoulders. His mouth moved over hers with a familiarity that left her in a sweet state of suspension, and she released another whimper of pleasure. He broke the intoxicating kiss and moved his lips along her cheek and down her neck. She trembled again from the delicate, heady sensation.
“Have you ever been kissed, angel?” he asked quietly, still trailing his warm lips along her sensitive skin.
“Yes,” she breathed. But not like that. Not with such familiarity or deep longing.
“Then I guess I’m going to have to make sure you never forget this one,” he murmured, determination clear in his low tone.
With that, he captured her lips once more and again she lost herself in his kiss. He brushed the tip of his tongue against her lower lip, and instinctively she parted them, wanting to taste all of him. She savored the hot, invigorating feel as he slipped his tongue into her mouth with a smooth, gentle caress. Her arms tightened around him and she released a soft moan from the stimulating sensation but didn’t pull away from him. Instead, she leaned closer.
Suddenly, Logan shifted and before she knew it, she was on her back, rolled beneath him on the rough blanket as he hovered above her. He ran his palm slowly down the length of her body—over her breasts, down to her waist, to finally rest at her hip. She shivered in his arms, her nipples straining against her dress from the heat left behind by the deliberate action. Gracie knew that accepting his touch and slow kiss was wicked and wrong, but nothing had ever felt so right.
His dark eyes were filled with such hunger and affection, it left her breathless. “Gracie…”
She lightly touched his rough cheek, ignoring the warnings and reprimands sounding in her head. In that moment, she knew she wanted him more then she wanted her next breath. She didn’t think about the consequences or about tomorrow—didn’t worry about right or wrong. She simply concentrated on the now and her desperate need for him.
“Make love to me, Logan.”
Desire so intense flashed across his face, she felt the power of it surging through him. But he didn’t question her decision and he didn’t hesitate. With a low growl, he captured her lips once more and again, she lost herself in him.
He made short work of their clothes and soon they were naked. “So beautiful,” he murmured thickly as he stared down at her.
What lingering shyness she’d held vanished from the longing in his eyes and those two simple words. With a small smile, she pulled him down to her until her breasts pressed firmly against his hard chest. His rigid shaft rested hot and heavy between her thighs and she shivered again from the foreign sensations, excited and nervous from her vulnerable position. But he continued his slow caress, lightly passing his tongue over her beaded nipples. She jerked from the intense pleasure, unrestrained need burning between her thighs and she ached to have him inside her.
“Logan, please…” she breathed, her fingers clutching his hair.
His ragged breathing was sharp against her ear as he licked the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder. A soft tremor coursed through her again and with a low moan, she lifted her hips against his straining member. She wanted to give him all of her and was prepared to take all of him.
Reaching between their bodies, Logan slowly guided himself into her. Gracie gasped as he pushed deep inside her, her body stretching to accommodate him. The pain was intense but fleeting as he began to gently, carefully, thrust into her. She gave in to him—to her desire—willingly and wholeheartedly as he made love to her with such unspeakable tenderness, her body nearly burst from the pleasure of it.
Their bodies danced to a ballad as old as time as she held him tight inside her and she lifted her hips to take more of him. There was no room for shame, no time for regret—only their frantic, base hunger for each other, until together they found sweet fulfillment.
Chapter 8
Logan held Gracie close to his side as she slept.
Her warm breath brushed along his neck, and her soft curves pressed against him. The tight coils of her curly hair lay wild around her head and tickled his cheek. He smiled, remembering just how wild she was in her passion, and still feeling the sting on his back where she had dug in her nails.
Everything about last night had been unexpected. From her fervent desire for him to the way their bodies had come together nicely. She had been sweetly passionate and as insatiable in her desire as he. Physically, they fit together perfectly, and emotionally…he knew he was in trouble.
He continued running his palm along her bare back and hips, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin. From the dim gray light coming through the high, narrow window of the caboose, dawn was almost upon them. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, thinking about last night and how good—how right—she had felt in his arms.
He needed to figure out a way to convince her not to go through with her marriage to Whitaker. He didn’t have as much money as the man, but he was fit and able and could work to provide for her and whatever children they ended up having.
The image of her round with his baby filled him with such fierce possessiveness that he instinctively tightened his arms around her. Murmuring, she shifted slightly in her sleep, and he eased his hold but didn’t let go. Though their lovemaking had been short of incredible, he wanted more than just to sate himself in her body. He wanted her smiles, her laughter—her heart—for himself.
She stirred again in his arms, and he pressed his lips against her hair. He watched as her lips curved up dreamily then she blinked. Then blinked again.
“Logan?”
Beneath his palm, tension traveled along her spine until her once soft, pliant body was rigid against him. Suddenly, she pushed away from him and sat up on the blanket, taking up as much as she could to cover her breasts—the same breasts he had become all too familiar with. He remembered their taste and texture, and his shaft stirred at the memory.
But as much as he wanted her back in his arms, he also wanted to wipe the panic that was burning bright in her large, dark eyes.
“Dear God, what have I done?”
Her whispered appeal was barely audible, but he heard it. He considered himself a compassionate man, and could understand her confusion and maybe even her guilt over what they had done, but he couldn’t tolerate it if she felt ashamed.
“Gracie, it’s all right,” he said slowly, sitting up but not reaching for her just yet. Not that he didn’t want to, but he could sense she needed space right now to process what had happened between them. And more than anything, he wanted her to be the one to come to him.
From the way she vigorously shook her head, he would need to exercise patience before that would happen.
“No, it’s not okay,” she said. “I’m supposed to meet my future husband today! I’m supposed to be chaste until our wedding night.”
Logan tried to tamp down the jealousy that was rising in him. After last night, he didn’t want to think about another man seeing and touching her the way he had, the way she had allowed him to.
She brought her hand to her throat, clutching the blanket closer to her. “What do I tell him? I never meant for this to happen but I can’t possibly marry him now.”
“No, you can’t,” Logan said, glad she had arrived at that conclusion on her own. “And what happened between us last night is no one else’s business. My intention was never to take advantage of you, and I certainly don’t intend to bring you to Whitaker as if nothing happened.”
Her eyes were solemn. “What are we going to do? I—we—have to
atone for this sin.”
The remorse in her eyes ate at him, and he reached for her then, carefully pulling her into his arms. She was still tense, but she braced her hand on his shoulders, not holding on to him, but not pushing him away either.
“You don’t need to feel ashamed about what happened last night, Gracie. There’s something magical between us, and no man can take that away.”
“But my family…I agreed to this marriage for them. When I break this contract, they will have to forfeit the payment Mr. Whitaker made for our arrangement. They can’t afford to do that.”
“They won’t have to,” he said. “I’ll talk to Whitaker. I have money, and I’m sure there is something—stop shaking your head, angel. I’m not going to let you deal with this alone.”
“We should speak to him together. I need Mr. Whitaker to understand this is not something we planned. I can’t do that if I’m cowering behind you or letting you fight my battles.”
He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Think of it as being cautious. Marrying Whitaker is not something you—or I—want you to do, but he is expecting a wife when we arrive in Montana. We need to approach this situation sensibly when we get there.”
“Mr. Whitaker would never—”
“You don’t know that,” Logan cut in. “And I’m not going to just leave you alone to deal with the man’s anger. If it means parting with a few dollars to free you from your contract, then so be it.”
She stared at him searchingly. “You would do that for me?”
The corner of his lips quirked. “Yes, angel, I would. I…care about you, and I want us to have a future filled with happiness. Not regret.”
She touched his cheek gently, her eyes filling with warmth and…misery. “I care about you too, Logan. But a future together? That would be impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible, Gracie. Just know I will do whatever I can to make this right.” He smiled crookedly. “Have faith.”
The Brightest Day: A Juneteenth Historical Romance Anthology Page 7