Their smiling eyes mirrored their joy.
He told her, "We need to do this more often. I enjoy hearing you laugh."
Hester said, "I enjoy you."
He carried her back to their spot then set out the hamper of lunch he'd brought along. They rinsed the mud from their hands in the clear chilly water of the river then sat down to eat. The chicken sandwiches and pound cake were more than enough to satisfy Hester's hunger. She washed it down with cold, clear water, then laid back to help Galen watch the sky. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Certainly."
"Lem and Jenine—what they were doing—was that the normal way a man joins with a woman?"
When she turned to look at him, her eyes were so innocent, Galen could not reply for a moment, then said, "Yes."
She looked away.
"Why do you ask?"
"Curious, I guess." The images of Jenine and Lemuel had haunted her all day. Hester could not escape the memory of Jenine's tortured face as Lem coupled with her. Did the joining cause that much pain? "Is it painful?"
Galen looked a bit confused by the question so she tried to be clearer. "I—well Jenine's face, she looked to be in pain."
Galen wanted to pull her close. Her innocence amazed him at times. "There is pain sometimes if it is a woman's first time, but with the proper lover there is no hurting after that."
"Are you a proper lover?"
He said gently, "I consider myself that, yes."
"Does a man have pain that first time, too?"
"Not usually, but it does become painful for a man if he's around a woman who arouses him and there is no resolution."
"Not during?"
"Not during."
A few moments of silence passed as he watched her thinking. "Petite?"
She met his eyes.
"Was that your first time seeing a man and woman joined?"
"Yes."
He supposed to the uninitiated the face of a person making love could appear to be pain-filled, but it was a sweet pain, and he didn't know if he could explain it in a way that could be understood.
"So Jenine wasn't in pain?"
"No, ma coeur, she was not..."
The endearment seared her like a flame. She reached out and gently stroked his face. He placed his hand atop hers, savoring its small indigo warmth. He then touched his lips to the palm. "Why the curiosity?"
"Because that is the next step for us, is it not?"
"You aren't supposed to ask that question."
"Why not?"
"Because I will have to answer and I cannot lie."
"Suppose it is what I wish also?"
He stilled a moment and scanned her face. "Under normal circumstances I'd shout hallelujah, but are you certain you know what that means?"
"No, not really, but it is my decision to make."
"Of course, but petite—"
She confessed with all honesty, "Galen I have never known a man like you and I probably never will again. After the debacle with Foster, I doubt I will wed anyone. You are my only chance of realizing what it means to throw caution to the wind. I am the woman who almost agreed to a celibate marriage as Jenine so tactfully pointed out, but you made me see how joyless that would have been. You made me see there is more to life. I'll go back to being Saint Hester after you're gone."
"I don't envision life after leaving you, Indigo."
"The sentiment is appreciated, but I simply want to enjoy our time together to the fullest."
"Speaking as a man, no man in his right mind would argue with the logic."
She stroked his face, and said softly, "Then don't."
"I won't," he assured her, "but I'm experienced enough to say you will probably change your mind later after you return home, and I suppose I can accept that."
He paused a moment to run his gaze over her beautiful features. "I want you like no other woman before, Miss Hester Wyatt, but I'll not force you, nor will I press. You are to let me know if and when you are ready."
"Fair enough."
When the day ended they parted in the carriage with lingering kisses.
Hester shared dinner and talk with Abigail over the cuckolding of poor Foster, and Hester's own relationship with Galen. , "You don't think less of me, do you?" Hester asked.
Abigail pushed aside her plate. "The question should be, do you think less of yourself?"
"No."
"Then my opinion shouldn't matter."
"But do you?"
"Are you happy?"
"More than I've ever been in my life."
"Then I'm happy. He may break your heart though," Abigail added sagely.
"I know."
The next morning, Hester drove Abigail to the train depot in Ann Arbor. Abigail planned on spending the next month or so with her family on the western side of the state. Gail made the trek every spring and this year would be no exception. She and Hester shared a brief, fierce hug, then Gail got on the train.
Hester was just about to turn the mule back out onto the road for the return drive home when she spied a knot of people standing near the far end of the station. One of the men she recognized as Branton Hubble, the others were unknown. She became curious as a few more people drifted over to the gathering. She set the brake and went to investigate.
As Hester walked up she could hear Branton saying, "You don't have to stay with him, miss."
Hester made her way to his side. Upon seeing her, he sighed happily. "I'm real glad to see you. Talk to her, see if you can convince her she's free to leave."
The light-skinned young woman in question was tightly holding the hands of two little girls. The handsome man staring angrily was her master. It seemed the woman had approached Branton after getting off the train and asked him to help her to freedom, but when the master appeared a few moments later, fear and uncertainty were making her doubt the decision.
Hester approached her and said, "My name is Hester, I'm a friend of Branton. Are these your daughters?"
The woman smiled a bit and nodded her head.
Hester smiled down at the little ones. "What are their names?"
"This is Bess, and that's Naomi."
"They're beautiful," Hester replied as she knelt down to stroke each soft brown cheek.
Hester asked the young mother, "What's your name?"
"Mary."
"Does this man own you, Mary?"
The woman nodded her head.
Hester looked to the man. "Do you own them, sir?"
"Yes."
Hester told Mary, "By the laws of the state of Michigan you became free the moment you arrived. If you want to be free, the choice is yours."
The owner interrupted. "She knows all about the law, she doesn't want to be free. Look at her, you can see by her clothing that I treat her well, why would she want to be a destitute and penniless fugitive?"
He came over and stood before Mary and implored her in an emotion-filled voice, "Think of what you're throwing away. How are you going to feed the girls, where are you going to go? I told you I'd free you in a few years, and I'm going to keep my promise."
"No you won't," Mary whispered.
Their eyes held. He slowly placed a finger against her cheek and stroked it with the tenderness of a lover.
Mary's lids closed and a tear slid down to meet the caress. His voice was soft. "But I will, I will. Don't leave me, Mary... please..."
"You sold my sons," she told him, her voice choked with pain and grief. "The children of my flesh, the children of your flesh, and you sold them like they were nothing more than pigs at the trough."
"Darling, I'm sorry. That was business, I explained that."
"Business?! Will you sell the girls for business?" she demanded through her tears. "Would you sell your daughters too?!"
He wouldn't or couldn't answer.
"I will hate you for the rest of my life for what you've done. May the Lord have mercy upon your soul." She turned to Hester and said firmly. "The girls and I are
ready, Miss Hester."
Branton helped with the luggage and Hester led Mary and her girls to the wagon. Hester saw Ezra Shoe leaning against the wall of the depot, watching.
Branton saw him too. "Wait for me and I'll follow you back to Whittaker."
She nodded.
It took only moments for Branton to return with his own wagon. As the two vehicles pulled off, Hester glanced back at Shoe. He smiled at her, then touched his hat.
When they reached Whittaker, Branton thought it wise for Mary and her daughters to move on right away. Hester agreed, especially with Shoe lurking about.
Branton drove them on to Detroit personally. From there he'd make arrangements for the fugitive family to be spirited across the river and into Canada.
Hester entered her house tired but glad she'd been able to win the small skirmish for freedom. She'd heard many poignant tales during her years on the Road, but today's incident pulled at her heart. Had Mary really loved her master? He seemed to harbor very strong feelings for her, yet he evidently lacked the ability to see the world through her eyes. Her sons had been her children, but to him they'd been chattel. How many more lives would slavery destroy before it could be put to death? There were already thousands of casualties, and every day the numbers rose.
After washing up and donning one of Galen's beautiful nightgowns from the chest, Hester sat in her rocker. The windows had been thrown open to let in the early evening breeze and she let the flow rid her of the weariness brought on by the past few days. She thought of Foster and Jenine, and the heartbreak her friend was destined to experience because of his wife's adultery; she thought back on poor Mary and the drama at the depot, but most of Hester's thoughts centered on Galen. Love seemed to have brought only sorrow to those around her, but her love for Galen brought nothing but joy. His kisses had become the balm for all that ailed her, and she realized she could use some of that balm now. She walked to her window and looked out over the night. She wondered if he was at home and what he was doing. She decided to put her newly born recklessness into action and go see. She hadn't seen him all day and she missed him.
She took a moment to run down to the kitchen and dab herself strategically with vanilla, then covered her nightgown with her most voluminous cape and headed out the door.
Maxi answered the Folly's door. "Chiquita? What are you doing about so late?"
"Is Mr. Vachon in?"
"He's already turned in for the night."
Hester glanced wistfully up the grand staircase. "I see," then asked quietly, "Would you escort me to him anyway?"
Maxi met Hester's eyes, and then asked, "Shall I take your cape?"
Hester thought about the nightgown underneath the cape and stammered, "Um-no. I'll keep it with me."
"This way then."
Hester followed Maxi up the stairs and through the upper floors of the house. Everywhere Hester looked she saw beautiful paintings, fine furnishings, and expensive statues. Maxi pulled open a set of ornately carved double doors, then stepped aside. "His rooms are through the door to your right."
"Thank you," Hester whispered.
Maxi closed the double doors and left Hester alone. Hester braced herself then slowly walked to Galen's door.
She had to knock twice before she heard him call enter.
Inside, the room was dark. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, and then a soft rustling sound at her right drew her attention.
"What is it, Max?" he called sleepily.
Hester answered softly, "It's me, Galen."
For a moment there was only silence and then, "Petite? What—"
She heard a match strike, then saw the faint flame of a lamp. A beat later, a soft light bathed the shadows. From beneath the large canopy atop his bed he stared at her with confused eyes. He slowly dragged the bedding across his lap as he sat up. "Has something happened?"
Hester shook her head, no. "No. I—simply wanted to see you."
He stayed silent so long Hester began to question the soundness of being a reckless woman. She asked, "Should I not have come?"
Galen wondered if he was dreaming, or if this were simply a delusion brought on by all the cognac he consumed this evening in an effort to drown his need for her. It certainly didn't feel like a dream and the sight of her standing in the shadows had rendered him undeniably sober. "No, I'm glad you came," he managed to say.
Hester stood shyly in the center of the room.
Galen asked, "Should I come to you or are you going to come to me?"
She felt very nervous all of a sudden as the uncertainty of why she'd come to see him tonight coupled itself with her desire for him. "I'll come to you," she quietly replied.
First though, she had to remove her cape. She did so slowly, then let it slip soundlessly from her shoulders to pool at her feet.
The fire that leapt to his eyes made her feel powerful, sensual.
This damn well better not be a dream, Galen thought to himself. The sight of her standing there so fetchingly made his manhood throb like a Yoruban drum. As she walked slowly toward him, Galen found it harder and harder to breathe. He cleared his throat. Through the haze of the thin gown he could see the points of her sweet dark breasts as the fabric swayed in sultry motion. His limbs trembled in anticipation. When she stopped beside the bed, Galen's blood began to pound in his ears.
"Lovely gown, petite..."
"Thank you, the man who gave it to me has exquisite taste."
"Are you just going to stand there?" he asked huskily.
"I'm waiting for an invitation." Her eyes were as heated as her words.
"Then come to me."
As soon as she sat on the bed, he covered her with the thin blanket and cradled her against his body. She jumped, startled by the warm press of his nakedness. "You're not wearing anything."
His hand slid over the satin smoothness of her back, bared by the gown. "It is how I sleep, ma coeur. You'll get used to it." He placed a kiss on her shoulder and felt her tremble in soft response. It pleased him to have her near. He continued to make slow, wide circles over her back. When she purred in contentment, he smiled. "Do you like that?"
In response she slid closer. She liked the way he touched her, as if she were made of silk, as if her arms were the rarest of black porcelain and her back unburnished gold. She raised up and kissed his mouth. He placed a gentle hand behind her head and returned her kiss with a delicious, languid intensity that sent heat surging through every fiber of her being.
"Thank you for coming. Boldness becomes you, Indigo..."
"And who taught me to be forward?"
They kissed one another passionately for a few silent moments, then parted reluctantly.
She placed her hand against his handsome face. "I missed not seeing you today."
Galen felt his desire leap another notch at her confession. He searched her small face, saw the need in her eyes, and replied softly, "Truth be told, I've been waiting for you to come to me all day..."
He kissed the sweetness of her mouth and felt the tiny sensations brought on by his ardor. The initial stiffness of her posture melted as she relaxed against him sighing, pressing herself closer to his hard chest and the spell woven by his lips.
His ragged breathing and bright eyes matched her own. He couldn't ever remember wanting a woman as much as he did Hester right now. The male in him wanted to ease himself into her heat and fill her until the night echoed with her pleasuring, her virginity be damned. But the man in him had vowed not to pressure her. "If you don't want all I have to give, you should say so now..."
He spoke the words hotly against her mouth and she kissed every movement his lips made. "I want it, Galen...all there is."
His big golden hand slid over the silk nightgown gracing her legs and thighs. "You should always be gowned in silk," he whispered. "Your gowns should be soft as your skin..."
He kissed the warmth of her neck while opening the tiny ribbons closing the lace-edged bodice. When it was full
y removed he said, "Gowns as soft as this..."
His lips brushed the bare skin below her neck and Hester sucked in her breath. She trembled as he moved lower, teasing the tender warmth between her breasts then the smooth plane above. His tongue slid over the inside curve when she arched her back. She'd grown up an untouched woman raised by an untouched, maiden aunt. Until she met Galen, she had no idea being with a man held such power, such majesty. The idea that she'd actually sought him out was unbelievable, but she hadn't come this far to back out now. She would not deny herself this one, beautiful night.
Galen traced her lips and when they parted he kissed her slowly, gently, wanting this moment to last an eternity. His lips teased the warmth of her neck, the shell of her ear. He'd never initiated a virgin before; all the women in his past were experienced in the sensual arts and had lost their virginity long before he entered their lives, but Hester was different. Only he had ever cupped her opulent breasts and thumbed the nipples until they hardened like berries. He was the only man to bring those same nipples to his mouth, and hear her soft intakes of breath. She'd come to him tonight to offer her most precious gift. Galen planned to express his gratitude by paying her prolonged, erotic tribute.
His mouth upon her breasts filled Hester with such soaring emotions she couldn't lie still. Her hips were rising in reaction. His hands, moving so possessively over her thighs, only increased her feverish state.
Galen found her more lushly delicate than he could have ever imagined. Her skin beneath his hands, soft as an angel's, drew him to sample her lingeringly. Her responses, virginal yet uninhibited, added to his own driving need. He touched his lips to her mouth, and when it parted in reply he slid his tongue over the sensitive corners. He bit her lip gently, and felt her damp nipples tighten like pebbles beneath his hand.
Her back arched as she strained for more. Galen lovingly and wantonly answered her silent plea. He ran strong hands down the taut expanse of her ribs and waist. Galen had learned the art of pleasure from the hands of the world's most celebrated courtesans, and he'd learned his lessons well. He knew where to touch her and where to caress. He knew her virgin body had never been explored to the fullest so he played her gently, arousing her with vibrant touches of his hands and lips, coaxing her to let him enjoy her so she would enjoy in return.
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