Summer Rose

by Bonnie K. Winn

  Remembering the instructions in the beauty book, she generously applied the fruit, covering all the skin containing freckles—which was every square inch of her face. The book had guaranteed that the mixture would remove even the most stubborn freckles.

  She sat perfectly still as the mixture attached itself to her face. Picking up the hand mirror, Millicent had to restrain a gasp as she eyed herself in the glass. What a ghastly mess! This had better work, she thought with a shiver of distaste. If men only knew what women went through…

  Millicent cocked her ear. She could have sworn she heard a light knock on the front door. But who could be out on a Sunday afternoon when everyone was at the potluck? She picked up her watch fob on the dresser. It was only two o’clock. Ringer wasn’t due for two more hours.

  Opening the bedroom door, she peered out into the keeping room. Not seeing anything, she moved to the window. Pulling back the curtain, she collided eye to eye with Ringer. It was hard to say who was more shocked.

  Horrified, she dropped the curtain, rushed over to the pump, and started furiously cranking the handle. Grabbing a towel, she scrubbed frantically at her face, dislodging most of the telling evidence.

  Hearing the door being flung open, she cringed and darted into the corner.

  “Millicent, my God! What happened?” Ringer closed the distance between them, and she felt his hands on her shoulders, trying to turn her around. She clung more fiercely to the corner cabinet, twisting her face so he couldn’t see it.

  “I can’t help you if you don’t let me see, Milly. What is it—a burn? Don’t turn away.”

  Twisting further away, she gulped for air and wondered if a person could duly die of embarrassment—suddenly hoping she could.

  “Milly, turn around so I can help you.”

  She shook her head stubbornly, refusing to speak.

  “You mean you won’t turn around?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Dad blast it! You turn around, Millicent Groden, before I turn you around! If you need help, you’ll not refuse while I’m here.”

  Millicent’s head slumped forward in defeat. Eventually she would have to turn around; she couldn’t sit in the corner until he left. Slowly she twisted around until she stood face-to-face with him.

  Staring into his shocked eyes, Millicent prayed again for instant death. Instead Ringer held out a hesitant hand, touching her face in wonder.

  “Strawberries?” The incredulousness in his voice was matched only by the amazement in his eyes.

  “Yes, strawberries. Are you satisfied?” Millicent flushed under the awful mask and wanted to choke on her anger. She started to move away when Ringer stopped her.

  “It really is…I thought you were hurt…”

  “Instead of crazy.”

  “Now, I didn’t say crazy. I just can’t say that I’ve ever seen anyone put strawberries on her face,” he replied cautiously, licking his finger and tasting the honey-coated fruit.

  “You’ve obviously never known anyone with this many freckles,” she retorted, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Why did she have to blurt out the truth?

  “Freckles, Milly. Did you say freckles?”

  She saw that he was fighting laughter and wanted to smash him. How dare he make fun of her shortcomings?

  “Yes, freckles, dammit!”

  Ringer took in this unexpected swear word with a chuckle.

  “It’s easy enough for you to laugh,” she raged, feeling hopelessly unattractive and foolish. “The horrible, ugly things aren’t spread out all over your face.”

  “Oh, Milly.” Ringer pulled her close, and she could feel him still trembling with restrained laughter. “My beautiful Milly. I’ll not have you calling them ugly. They’re God’s drops of sunshine, spread out on the loveliest landscape in creation.”

  “You’re just saying that.” Millicent wanted to believe his blarney, but she knew what she looked like.

  “I’m saying it because I believe it.” His laughter seemed to die down as he lowered his face close to hers, licking a strawberry on her forehead. “You’re tasty, too.”

  If possible, she flushed to an even deeper hue of rosy red.

  “I know how awful I look,” she protested.

  Without answering, Ringer scooped her up and carried her toward the settee. “I think I’m ready for my picnic right now,” he stated, nuzzling her lips and retrieving another strawberry.

  Millicent flailed her arms and legs wildly. She’d never had a man pick her up bodily like that—not that it didn’t feel wonderful, but still…

  Feeling a bit light-headed, she protested, “I have a basket all packed. If you’ll put me down and let me get cleaned up…”

  Millicent shivered deliciously at the devilish twinkle in his eye as he bent to taste the nectar on her face.

  “What? And waste the best part?”

  Ringer bent to place a gentle kiss on her lips. The kiss, intended to be butterfly quick, deepened, and as he felt Millicent respond, a deep shudder of desire shook him.

  One by one, he licked the few remaining strawberries from her face, each time swooping closer to her mouth as she made tiny sounds of pleasure. As her hands fastened first in his hair and then roamed over his shoulders, he found the last of his control slipping away. Urgently he gathered her trembling body to his. Instead of pulling away, Millicent merely sighed his name and melted even closer.

  She was lost in the heady sensation of being held once again in Ringer’s arms. Feeling the shudder of his desire, Millicent reveled in the unexpected power she’d only now discovered she possessed. His lips brandished a fiery trail of kisses over her waiting mouth and down the sensitive hollows of her throat. When his mouth descended to the discreet vee of her wrapper, she arched closer.

  His fingers closed around the sash that held her wrapper together and slowly untied it. As the material slipped free, Millicent curved her neck back in delight when he untied the top lacing of her chemise. The air nipped at her almost bared skin, and Millicent gasped aloud when Ringer traced the outline of first one aroused nipple and then the next.

  His gaze fastened on Millicent’s flushed face, noting the passion darkening her features. He knew, despite her innocence, that she was ready for him. And, just as certainly, he knew he would have to control the inferno they’d ignited.

  Desire battled with the urge to protect her, to take her away from the ugly fight she’d been unwittingly placed in the middle of. Unable to resist, Ringer scooped her off the settee and placed her on the soft rug in front of the hearth. Shifting closer, he grasped her cascading hair. His lips closed over hers as he pulled out the confining pins that entrapped her hair. It spilled out, the blazing red strands washing over her gloriously naked shoulders, illuminating all the fantasies he’d had about her. And, as the leaves on a tree tremble in the shifting breeze, so did Ringer’s heart.

  One strong hand gently stroked her satiny cheek. The other arm brought her into an embrace, his fingers kneading the skin at the back of her neck. It took only moments for their accelerated awareness of one another to skyrocket.

  Lapis-blue eyes captured moss-green ones. Their breathing quickened and each ragged gasp penetrated the stillness of the day. This time, when Millicent swallowed the lump in her throat, it wasn’t from fear, it was from anticipation—hungry, long-denied, overwhelming anticipation. And this time she didn’t back down from the hunger in Ringer’s eyes, for it matched her own intense need.

  At the sudden change in Ringer’s breathing, Millicent felt a heady sensuality. She watched in suspended wonder as his lips moved closer, and felt her chest swell with excitement, her knees weaken at the destiny she saw written in Ringer’s face.

  She knew without a moment’s hesitation that this was a destiny she’d craved for a lifetime. Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips descended on hers, and she savored the sweetness of the moment. Millicent sensed suddenly that she was nearing the end of a long journey, one that had taken a magical turn
not of her own making. But one she wouldn’t change for all the cattle in Texas.

  Millicent drew a quick breath as Ringer’s mouth moved over hers insistently, demanding a response. Her eyelids flickered shut briefly, translucent coverings over her turbulent emotions.

  She felt the gentle butterfly kisses Ringer rained across the expanse of her neck. She sucked in her breath as one gentle kiss found her sensitized nipple separated only by the thin material of her chemise. Linking her hands together in his hair, she relished the texture as it teased her fingertips.

  Once again their lips met, and Millicent’s eyes fluttered shut briefly as their bodies touched. Each kiss that descended across her throat and over her bodice shook her from deep inside. She wondered if she’d ever imagined the dormant volcano that had lain inside her until this moment.

  Ringer lifted his head, searching her eyes, his hands resting on her lace-trimmed chemise now held together with only a few ivory buttons. Millicent’s eyes blazed with desire as she met his look. One by one, the buttons eased open, and only the lacy fastenings of her camisole separated reality from fantasy, desire from fulfillment.

  And in one breathtaking step, she knew fantasy would no longer suffice, and with her eyes told Ringer her decision. She reveled in the feel of his strong hands as her camisole disappeared and the cool breeze from the window tantalized her bare skin. Caught in an incredible onslaught of sensation, she was dimly aware that her other clothing had disappeared until only her pantalets remained.

  Suddenly she wanted to see and know Ringer in the same fashion. Her hands were clumsy and impatient as she tore at the buttons on his shirt. His eyes widened a bit in surprise and pleasure at her eagerness. But when his shirt was gone, Millicent stared at his pants and grew suddenly shy. Sensing her awkwardness, Ringer dispensed with his other clothing and turned to her again. Millicent felt an incredible heat burning in her stomach and moving downward as she stared at his perfectly formed body.

  Years of outdoor labor had honed his body to sleek perfection, and Millicent hesitantly reached out to touch the rippling muscles that had always been hidden by work shirts and denims. The springy hair beneath her fingers curled damply as she traced a path to the dark, pebbly nipples on his chest. When her fingers grazed the distended nubs, he groaned aloud.

  He held her against the length of his body, and Millicent wanted to feel him—all of him—against her. As though reading her thoughts, Ringer gently eased the remaining garment from her, revealing her body in all its glory. When their eyes met, all the promises of the past months melded into a desire that shook them both.

  As though every nerve and feeling she possessed had been set on fire, Millicent strained even closer against him. When she felt the evidence of his desire, she paused in a moment of panic and then almost cried aloud when Ringer parted her legs with his knee.

  But even as she wondered, she reached out to run her hands over the rippling muscles of Ringer’s back and chest. Each curve, each plane promised another tantalizing mystery she wanted to unravel.

  As the afternoon sun teased the dark locks of hair across Ringer’s forehead, Millicent questioned suddenly if she was indeed the same lonely spinster who’d come from Boston. Even as the thought danced through her mind, Ringer’s eyes feasted on her body, and the darkening flush of desire on his face denied she’d ever been an undesirable old maid.

  Ringer’s voice washed over her pleasure-driven senses. “You know we can’t turn back now, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  Millicent managed to nod her agreement, wondering if he knew she was helpless to stop her own actions, much less his.

  She felt his weight settling more firmly, as though every cell of his body now merged with hers. When he searched her eyes for some unspoken answer, Millicent wasn’t sure what was expected of her and so instead uttered the words she wanted most to say.

  “I love you, Ringer.”

  He briefly captured her lips before replying, “And I love you, Milly. More than you’ll ever know.”

  With those words, he brought his hips against hers, urging her legs apart. She felt another sudden ripple of fear at the unexpected pain, but before she could withdraw, Ringer pulled her to him and deepened his strokes. She felt her breath catch at the unfamiliar but pleasurable sensations he was creating. With an abandon she’d not known she possessed, Millicent matched his movements, searching…seeking…and finding. As the bursting crescendo shattered the stillness of the afternoon, she wondered if heaven could in any way compare with Ringer on earth.

  36

  Cassie glanced over at her friend, noting again the smile that seemed to constantly hover on Millicent’s lips. Alternately she’d been dreamy, preoccupied, and bursting with happiness. Cassie suspected a wedding date was not far off.

  When a knock sounded on the door, she stared at the wooden barrier, a slight knot of apprehension starting to build. The day had begun with more threats, this time in the form of a strangled chicken with a nasty letter attached to it. By now Cassie had almost hardened herself to the threats. Almost.

  She opened the door and on the threshold stood Nellie Porter and her children.

  “Evenin’, Miz Dalton. My young’uns are ready to learn, if’n you’re ready to have ’em.”

  Cassie tried to contain her feelings of dismay, but watching the proud tilt to Nellie Porter’s work-lined face, she knew she couldn’t refuse.

  “Fine, Mrs. Porter. Let’s plan on about two hours this evening. If you’d care to wait here, that would be all right, or you can come back…”

  “I’ll jest help Henry this evenin’. Next time he’ll bring the young’uns. What you be wanting us to do?”

  Cassie had no intention of putting the woman to work on outside chores, no matter how willing she was. “Why don’t you help Millicent, Nellie? And I’ll direct Henry with some outside chores.”

  Nellie nodded and waited for directions from Millicent. After Cassie had sent Henry to shovel out the pens, she directed her attention to the children. Four fresh-scrubbed faces stared as she got out books, tablets, and pencils.

  When their session came to a close, Cassie had to admit the children were quick learners and hard workers, much like their mother, who had scrubbed and cleaned the entire two hours.

  As Cassie and Millicent waved good-bye to the sober-faced children, they each sighed aloud in relief.

  “She made me tired just watching her,” Millicent commented. “I’ll be about six hours ahead of schedule tomorrow because of what she accomplished.”

  “I’m glad I don’t have to muck out the shed tomorrow, but I don’t imagine they’ll come back after that chore. I wish Andrew was as eager about his lessons.”

  But the Porters did return, and it seemed that every day the number of children she tutored grew. Cassie hated to say no, and the children appeared so painfully eager for their lessons. She was stretched so thin at times that she doubted her own abilities. But as one after another of the families brought their youngsters to her for lessons, Cassie couldn’t find the heart to refuse. True, it was the women who brought their children, since most of the men still kept away. Except for Henry Porter, whose able assistance was a godsend.

  If only she was accepted as a person as well as a schoolteacher, she might learn to like living in the harsh land. With a sigh, Cassie realized that once she learned the identity of her uncle’s killer, any tranquillity she had would be destroyed.

  “A poetry reading?” Cassie questioned in disbelief, bending over to drive a nail into the flagging corral gate.

  “Can you imagine anything so exciting out here? An actual poetry reading? The whole town will be there. We can’t miss an opportunity like this. What do you think we should wear? And our hair? Would hats be appropriate? Maybe our Sunday silk…”

  Cassie smiled in spite of her weariness. If anyone had told her back in Boston that Millicent would be acting like a nervous schoolgirl, she would never have believed it.

  But Millicent was
right: the whole town did turn out for the reading. As they made their way through the crowd and started toward a pew, Shane materialized beside Cassie. Her pulse quickened at the sight of him, looking tall, lean, and hungry. The expression in his eyes told Cassie that he’d like for her to be the main course.

  “Evenin’, Cassie.” His voice washed over her like warm water in a river bed. Before she could reply, they were separated by a rush of people coming down the aisle.

  As soon as they passed, Shane tucked her arm firmly under his. “Don’t want to take a chance on that happening again,” he said, guiding her to one of the back rows.

  While the babble of voices around them continued to rise and fill the room, Cassie and Shane sat side by side, the heat from their bodies radiating toward one another.

  Cassie let her eyes roam over him, pausing at the pulse point in his throat, watching its tempo increase when he laid one hand over her leg. When his fingers unobtrusively closed over her knee, she sucked in her breath, feeling the warmth of his skin through the layers of her clothes.

  Risking another glance, she saw that his eyes had darkened, and his full lips were moist. Remembering those lips on her own, his hands moving over her body, Cassie tried to control the erratic beating of her heart, which she felt must surely be visible.

  She was relieved to turn her attention to the traveling circuit actor who announced his selections for the evening, Whitman and sonnets by Shakespeare. During the polite clapping that erupted in the room, Cassie straightened up a bit. Whitman? Some of his selections were so, well, risqué that they’d been omitted at the readings in Boston. Despite her uneasiness, a wicked smile played about her lips as she glanced around at her neighbors eagerly awaiting the cultural evening. Their excitement showed they were starved for anything from back East, since the West was at least ten years behind their seaboard contemporaries. Well, they were in for some enlightenment tonight.