Lessons of the Heart

by HELEN HARDT

  Empty. Aching. Garth. She needed Garth. She ran in her mind, hurtling toward something she couldn't name. Couldn’t understand. Only knew she must get there. Must.

  The explosion curled through her like a rippling tidal wave. Her own voice echoed throughout the room. “Garth! Oh, my! Garth, please!”

  He licked her, soothed her, and when she floated downward, he kissed her. There. A sloppy, slurpy kiss, and then he looked up at her and smiled.

  His chin and lips glistened with moisture. Slowly he inched forward, and his hardness brushed against her leg, her thigh, and nudged that glorious spot that now seemed even more sensitive.

  With one smooth thrust, he pushed into her.

  “Oh!” The word left her in a breathless gasp. A lance of pain shot into her. So big, so full. How would she ever get used to this?

  But he whispered into her ear. Soothing words as his lips nibbled her lobe. “I’m sorry, honey. It won’t ever hurt again. Just hold still. It’ll pass.”

  She held still. Relished his warm body against hers. Slowly, her own body stretched, welcomed him. And she was home.

  He seemed to sense her relaxation, and he began to move within her. Slowly at first, and then gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts.

  He filled her emptiness with his body, and with each plunge, she rose higher and higher, until again the sparks threaded through her and she flew.

  Garth’s mouth clamped onto hers and he kissed her. More deeply than ever before as he continued to thrust. One arm curved under her thigh as he broke the kiss. “Your legs, honey. Wrap those long legs around me.”

  She did so, and when her hips rose, he thrust deeper. Faster, harder, until with one final plunge he groaned into her mouth.

  As she drifted back into her body once more, Garth inhaled a deep breath and turned onto his side, pulling her with him.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He tunneled his fingers through her hair and brushed his lips against hers.

  Ruth’s eyes misted, and a tear trickled down her cheek.

  “Don’t cry.” He caught the drop on the tip of his finger. “Please. Did I hurt you?”

  “Oh, no.” She sniffed and looked down at her lap. “It’s not that. It’s just…no one’s ever said I’m beautiful before. Except for my ma.”

  Garth tilted her chin upward until she met his smoldering bronze gaze. “I can’t believe that.”

  “It’s true. I… My sister was the beautiful one. I was the smart one. Men didn’t… Well, probably because of my height. And my intelligence.”

  “I love your height. You’re perfect for me.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you are a large man, Garth Mackenzie.”

  “The first time I laid eyes on you, I imagined you as an Amazonian Princess. Then you opened your mouth and told me what you thought, and I nearly blew my top.” He chuckled. “No woman has ever stood up to me like that. I can’t say I liked it much, but damn, Ruthie, I liked you. Didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. You’re strong, brave, smart, and beautiful. Just like a warrior princess.”

  He liked her. Her heart tapped at the sentiment. He didn’t speak of love, but at least he liked her, held her in his esteem.

  It was a start.

  Chapter Eleven

  Matthew’s body was leaden. Nearly as large as Garth himself, Matthew was dead weight, even though he wasn’t yet dead.

  Blood spurted from his stomach, already soaking the blue of his uniform. The Rebels had scattered. Injured Union soldiers lay every few feet. Every couple of steps, a hand grasped Garth’s ankle, a plea squeaked from a bloody mouth. “Help me. Please.”

  Garth steeled himself. He couldn’t save them all. Could only save Matthew. Matthew—his closest friend, his confidante. His brother.

  Garth dragged his friend clear of the injured. Behind a tree, he assessed the damage. It didn’t look good. Every drop of crimson blood knifed into Garth as though he were the one who had been shot.

  The one dying.

  “Leave me,” Matthew whispered.

  “Never.” Garth resisted the urge to haul Matthew over his shoulder and run. His wound couldn’t take it. Instead, he continued to drag his friend while he scouted for a hiding place. Shots boomed around them. Garth’s ears had long since gotten used to the ringing. The Rebs wouldn’t stay scattered for long, and not enough men had survived from Garth’s regiment to cover him and Matthew.

  They had to hide, and they had to hide quickly.

  The biting scent of gunpowder thickened the air. Garth inhaled, his throat raw. Though not injured, he was fatigued from fighting. He was bone weary. His legs numbed beneath him and gave out. He toppled to the hard dirt next to Matthew.

  “Garth.”

  Matthew words were dense, sounded like he was speaking through a bubble. He let out a string of garbled directives that Garth couldn’t translate. He stood and began again to drag his friend to safety.

  If safety even existed.

  The ground shook with a cannon’s rumble. Shrill screams swelled through the heavy air until they were distorted into hollow howls.

  Ghosts. Union-clad specters haunting this grave site. Because that’s what it was—a grave site. No one existed to drag the rest of these men someplace else, to be mourned and buried next to loved ones.

  He stumbled again but caught himself. Dusk fell, and Garth thanked whatever God might be out there. Now night would shroud them from the Rebs.

  Matthew must have fainted. He made no sound, yet when Garth looked to his chest, it still rose and fell. He again whispered thanks. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking when he found the hole. Or what he thought was a hole. More like an underground cave.

  The Rebs would find them. Of that he had no doubt. He’d come to accept it after today, after watching too many Union soldiers fall. He’d been damned lucky to escape. But it was a bitter victory, and one that would be short-lived. When the Rebs caught him, he would die.

  He wasn’t going home.

  Right now, he needed rest. Needed to see to Matthew’s injuries. Perhaps he could do something for his friend. Perhaps…

  He lowered his friend into the cave and then jumped down next to him.

  Pitch black. Within a few minutes, Garth’s eyes adjusted to the dark. Matthew’s light blue irises shone.

  “You’re awake.”

  Matthew’s breath came in shallow pants. “G-Garth. H-Hurts.”

  “I know.”

  Matthew gripped Garth’s shirt. “Hurts!” His voice echoed. “Do something. It hurts!”

  “Damn it.” Garth’s survival instinct kicked in with a vengeance. “Be quiet,” he whispered urgently.

  “Can’t. Hurts!”

  Garth’s skin prickled. “You’ve got to be quiet.” He pulled his blade from its sheath at his belt and grabbed his friend. The sharp edge grazed Matthew’s throat. “You will be quiet, Matthew, or I swear to God I’ll slit your throat.”

  “Garth, Garth. It’s all right. Wake up!”

  “Damn it! I told you to be quiet!” He shook off the soothing touch. No time for that. Had to survive. Had to keep Matthew quiet or the Rebs would come.

  “Garth, please. Wake up. You’re scaring me.”

  Garth jolted. His eyes shot open. Moonlight streamed through the window. A breeze drifted over his bare skin. Beside him, a warm woman gazed at him with worried blue eyes.

  Ruthie.

  His Ruthie.

  What had he brought her into? God, he’d wanted her. Still wanted her. But he’d had no right to saddle her with his pathetic existence.

  “Garth. You were dreaming again.”

  He nodded. No use denying it. She’d seen it before. “Every night.”

  “Even last night? At the hotel? I didn’t hear you.”

  “I usually wake myself up before I yell. Learned to. My yelling in the middle of the night troubles Mary Alice.”

  She sat up next to him and kiss
ed his cheek. A soft petal of a kiss. Enough to get his cock started, but now wasn’t the time. Not while blood and killing still warred within his mind.

  “Tell me the nightmare.”

  Four harmless words from the innocent mouth of his new wife. Of course, she had no way of knowing he’d never told another living soul the horrors that haunted his nights.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry I disturbed your sleep. If you’d be more comfortable, I’ll sleep in the front room from now on.”

  “In the front room?” Ruth pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts.

  Damn shame. They were lovely, indeed.

  “Yes.”

  “I won’t hear of any such thing. We’re married, Garth Mackenzie. For better or worse. That means we share a bedroom, and a bed.”

  “I have this nightmare every night, Ruthie. Every night, do you understand? Every night since the war.”

  “Oh.” She backed away a little.

  He didn’t blame her. War was evil. As a woman, she couldn’t begin to comprehend what he’d seen, what he’d done. But she’d no doubt heard stories. Stories that made her blood curdle.

  Her face softened then, and she smiled and touched his cheek. So innocent, but it burned straight to his groin.

  “Please tell me. It might help.”

  “I’ve never told anyone, Ruth. I can’t do that to you. It’s ugly.”

  “I know. You forget I’m a scholar, Garth. I’ve studied the war. I haven’t lived it, and I’m not so ignorant to think studying and living are the same thing. I know they’re not. But I can handle it. I swear to you.”

  “I don’t want you to have to.”

  “For better or worse, Garth. I spoke the same words you did.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh.” She caressed his cheek and then his upper lip with the soft pad of her thumb. “I understand, now. This is why you’re…you.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Why you’re an island, Garth. You could be in a room full of people, and still you’d be alone.”

  An island. Alone. He opened his mouth to argue, but she started to talk again.

  Well, he’d known that about her. She liked to talk. Didn’t matter, anyway. She was right, and he damned well knew it. She was smart, his Ruthie. He wouldn’t be able to hide from her.

  “You’re not alone anymore,” she said. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care what you did during the war. War is terrible. Men do things during war that they’d never think of doing otherwise. It’s survival, pure and simple. It’s human nature.”

  Would she understand? Truly? Could she comprehend what Matthew’s death had cost him? Garth wasn’t sure, but nothing mattered anymore. Nothing except unburdening himself to his wife.

  He took a deep breath, leaned back against the headboard, and closed his eyes.

  “I killed, Ruthie.”

  Her warm body nestled against him. “Everyone kills during a war.”

  Though her voice soothed, her words did not. She didn’t know.

  “I killed a friend.”

  He braced himself for her repulsion. She’d back away. Run as fast as her long legs could carry her.

  But she didn’t. Her warmth still enveloped him, and when he opened his eyes, her own shone with concern.

  “Tell me.”

  The story tumbled out of him. The battle, the blood, the air thick with the stench of fresh death. How Matthew, his best friend since childhood, had begged Garth to leave him behind. But Garth had dragged him through the mass of injured and dead to the underground cave. Only the darkness of night had cloaked them. Had the sun shone, the Rebels would have seen the opening to the cave.

  “The Rebs were right above us. They’d come back to finish off any stragglers. Matthew was dying, in pain. His need to cry out was so thick, so strong, I could feel it. But I held my knife to his throat, and I told him if he screamed, I’d kill him.”

  Ruth didn’t budge. Still held him tight. “Go on.”

  “He had told me to kill him before. Before I dragged him away. I couldn’t do it. I…” Images of Matthew’s face, pale and pasty, blood soaking his skin, blurred in his mind. “I thought I could save him. But I couldn’t.”

  “He was too far gone, Garth. You couldn’t do anything.”

  He swallowed. “I told him to keep quiet.” The lump in his throat thickened. “But he didn’t. He screamed, and I slit his throat. His blood poured over my hand, and he gurgled and snorted.” The sounds ripped through Garth’s head. “Then he died.”

  “Oh, Garth.”

  “Once the Rebs dispersed, I left him there.”

  She nodded against his shoulder, her silky hair tickling his flesh. He kissed the top of her head.

  “I loved him like a brother. More so, even. We’d done everything together from the time we were five years old. I stood up for him at his wedding. But he wasn’t there to stand up for mine. Wasn’t there to hold his baby girl.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Garth.”

  “Not my fault? I killed during the war. Killed men who were husbands, fathers, brothers. I justified it in the name of principle. But my best friend… I sank that blade into his flesh, Ruth. To save my own hide!”

  “He would have died anyway. And who says it’s a crime that you wanted to live? That you wanted to get back to your life? I’d want the same thing. Any person would.”

  “I’m not sure it was worth it.”

  She pulled away slightly and burned angry midnight eyes into him. “Of course it was worth it. You’re alive!”

  “I came back half a person.”

  “You are not half a person, Garth Mackenzie. You’re strong and passionate. You have a lovely little girl who adores you and needs you.”

  “I haven’t done right by her.”

  “Well, you will from now on. You’ll respect her, and teach her, and you’ll love her as she deserves.”

  “I-I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Love her.”

  Ruth’s eyes widened. Saucers of deep sea blue. “Of course you can love her.”

  “I never told her. Never told Lizzie or the boy.”

  “The boy? What was his name?”

  Garth winced. It was easier to think of him as “the boy.” “The doctors couldn’t help him. Couldn’t save him. Or Lizzie.”

  “That explains why you don’t like doctors much. But Doc Potter is a good man. A good doctor.”

  Garth nodded. Perhaps Potter was all right. Perhaps a lot of things would be all right now. Now that he had Ruth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Jonathan Garth.”

  “A lovely name. I’m so sorry you lost him.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m used to it.”

  “You’re not used to it. No one is. So stop telling yourself you are. You’ve been through a lot of loss in your short life. More than any soul deserves.” She cupped his cheeks and forced his gaze onto hers. “Listen to me, Garth Mackenzie. I love you. Do you understand? I didn’t plan to fall in love with you. I didn’t much even like you at first. But I decided a long time ago to only marry for love. And I married you. I love you, and you are not alone.”

  Floodgates opened, and emotion, raw and pure, roared into Garth. His body trembled and he held Ruth against him—a rock in a swirling sea of commotion he’d kept buried far too long. His vision blurred, and wetness trickled from his eyes.

  Tears.

  She loved him. He wasn’t a ruthless killer, a heartless monster to her. She saw a man. A man worthy of her love. This princess loved him.

  Lordy, he loved her, too.

  Her soothing words met his ears. “It’s all right, Garth. It’s all right.”

  “I love you, Ruth.” The sentiment flowed out of him. “God, I love you so much.”

  She continued to hold him, and the demons crept away into the inky blackness of the night.

  And somehow, in the depths of his being, he knew the nigh
tmares would be fewer and farther between from now on.

  * * *

  Garth ambled into the kitchen wearing trousers and an unbuttoned shirt. Tousled and raw, he oozed masculinity. Ruth’s heart quickened at the sight. She’d never tire of his male beauty.

  “Good morning.” She reached for the empty plate Mary Alice, seated at the table, handed her. “Good?”

  “The best breakfast I’ve had in a long time,” Mary Alice said.

  Ruth smiled and turned to Garth. “We thought we’d let you sleep a little longer today since you’re probably still tuckered out from that fire.”

  “Morning, Pa.” Mary Alice’s rosy face beamed. She looked good. Good and healthy.

  “Your breakfast will be ready in a jiffy,” Ruth said to Garth.

  She hurried to the cookstove, but he caught her arm and pulled her into a tight hug. He kissed her lips, and she gasped, looking toward Mary Alice. The girl was engaged with her cup of milk and didn’t give them the time of day.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  Her skin bristled and she nuzzled his neck. “I love you too. Now sit. I’ll get you something to eat.”

  He patted her bottom—oh, she could get used to those husbandly caresses—and sat down next to his daughter.

  “Mary Alice.”

  Ruth couldn’t help herself. She turned to watch their exchange. Bronze eyes so like Garth’s own gazed up at him. “Yes, Pa?”

  He smiled. “I love you.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “I love you too, Pa.” She rose from her chair and timidly walked into his outstretched arms.

  He kissed the top of her blond head.

  She eased out of his embrace. “Got to do my chores.”

  “You take it easy today, sweetheart,” he said.

  “I feel fine. Much better. Honest.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She smiled a shy smile. Oh, she was going to be a beauty. They’d have all sorts of men coming to court her. Not a one would be good enough for her father, Ruth imagined. Her blond braids bobbed as she headed out the lean-to.

  Ruth turned back to the stove. Within a few seconds, Garth’s hard body pressed into her from behind. His erection nudged the cleft between her buttocks.