by Debra Glass
Panic flared. “Did they go in the wagon?” Ransom didn’t know whether to admire her or reassess his opinion of her mental faculties.
Morris nodded. “Charles said you’d been teaching him so I figured it’d be all right.”
A muscle in Ransom’s jaw clenched. “I let him drive once. I’d hardly say he’s ready to take a rig out on his own.” He hefted his saddle out of the tack room and started toward Asteroid. “I have a bad feeling about this. How long have they been gone?”
Morris shrugged. “Maybe an hour. He looked like he knew what he was doing when they drove off the place.”
“It’s not Charlie I’m worried about.” He threw a blanket on Asteroid’s back and then planted the saddle on top of it.
Asteroid gave him a quizzical look when he began tersely tightening the girth strap. Ransom forced himself to calm down, but his gut told him Cathleen Ryan wouldn’t do anything short of starting a riot in Spring Hill.
Spring Hill still bore deep scars from the war and even though the town had its share of Unionists, for the most part it was filled with staunch Confederates—namely staunch Confederate women who’d smarted from the loss to a far greater degree than any of the returning veterans.
“Do I need to come along?” Morris asked.
“No. I’ll go,” Ransom said, swinging into the saddle. Asteroid blew and his muscles rippled as he readied to carry his charge. “I’m sure they’re just fine.” But I don’t want to take any chances.
He snapped the reins and Asteroid bolted out of the stable. The animal had been bred to fly on his feet and his tenure as a warhorse had aged him but hadn’t robbed him of his speed.
Ransom leaned low and, knowing Asteroid enjoyed the exercise, let the horse set the pace. It’d been a long time since he’d allowed the animal to run at full speed. In his day, there hadn’t been a horse in the state that could touch him. Adrenaline fired through Ransom’s veins as the wind whipped through his clothes and through Asteroid’s dark-auburn mane.
The horse’s powerful legs ate up the distance. His muscles worked. A sense of pride filled Ransom as he realized the animal had not yet become winded. He himself had chosen the sire and dam and when Asteroid had won his first race, Ransom’s father had bragged that his son possessed the blood of a true breeder.
Until this moment, those memories had seemed vague and faraway, as if they’d happened to someone else.
Asteroid covered the four miles in minutes and resisted the rein when Ransom urged him to slow his place. He whinnied in protest.
“Whoa, boy,” he said, patting the animal’s solid neck. “Whoa. We don’t want to run over anybody.” Besides, he needed to stay alert to look for Charles and Cathleen.
What sort of business could that exasperating woman have in town? Unease sent a tingle up his spine as Asteroid plodded up the rise and past the church.
“If she’s put Charlie in the middle of so—” Ransom stopped short. And as if Asteroid sensed trouble, he halted in his tracks.
His heart plummeted. A thousand emotions at once vied for eminence. Anger topped the lot of them.
There, dead center on the porch of the McKissack home, stood Cathleen Ryan surrounded by a crowd of women.
The Byrne rig was parked at the edge of the Columbia Pike and little Charles sat on the back dangling his bare feet and eating a peach.
Ransom briefly shut his eyes, hoping he’d imagined seeing his sister’s teacher alongside the most scarlet woman in town, Mrs. George Peters.
While Dr. Peters was away, Jessie Peters had brazenly dallied with General Van Dorn. The illicit relationship had cost Van Dorn his life at the hands of the affronted doctor, who made it to Mississippi before being captured.
Peters was tried and summarily acquitted and although Jessie still maintained nothing inappropriate had happened, everyone in town had seen Van Dorn in the Peters family carriage frolicking around the countryside.
There was even talk Peters had shot Van Dorn as the general had tried to make good an escape from their home under cloak of night.
Jessie, herself, looked utterly enthralled with whatever diatribe Cathleen was espousing.
Ransom suddenly wished the ground would swallow him up, horse and all.
Men were also beginning to congregate and from their expressions, they looked none too thrilled with Cathleen’s radical sermon—especially a clutch of men from nearby Columbia who Ransom knew to be nightriders. Still smarting from the South’s bitter defeat, they sought to bring about their own brand of justice by breeding hate and fear.
“Goddammit,” he muttered and clicked to Asteroid.
The horse glanced back, a dubious gleam flashing in his eye before he clomped forward. Cathleen hadn’t seen him. She clutched a bunch of pamphlets, and to Ransom’s horror, he saw that those flocked around her had each been given one.
Her face flushed as she spoke. An errant strand of black hair had escaped her tight bun and hung disregarded over her forehead and one lens of her black spectacles. Fist clenched and raised, she railed.
Her voice rang clear. “The preamble of the Federal Constitution says, ��We, the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.’
“It states we, the people, not we, the white male citizens, but we, the whole people, who form this Union. Women and men.”
At this, some of the women nodded.
One of the men spat tobacco juice on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Is it not a downright mockery to bandy about terms such as liberty while women are denied the right to vote? This country has made sex,” at that word, one woman gasped and looked away, “a qualification that results in the denial of rights to one half of the people. The very blessings of liberty are to this day withheld from women.”
“Ain’t you that Yankee teacher come from up North to teach the Byrne girl?” one man butted in.
“There’s Ransom now,” said another man Ransom only knew as Coot.
“Ransom!” Jessie called, breaking into a wide grin.
Cathleen attempted to maintain her hold on the crowd. Ignoring his presence, she continued. “Why, in the name of reason and justice, I implore you, should a woman not enjoy the same rights as man?”
“Miss Ryan, it’s time to go.” Asteroid stomped the ground with one hoof as if for emphasis.
Undaunted, she rattled on. “Here in the South, the women will soon be degraded below—”
“Time to go.” Ransom’s voice carried over the crowd.
Cathleen stared, stunned, but only for a moment before she attempted to speak again. This time, it was the throng that drowned her out.
“Can’t you keep that Yankee gal in check, Byrne?”
“Does all your hired help go around so uppity?”
The women seemed shocked. The men were a hairsbreadth from becoming belligerent.
One woman began quoting scripture as if the very words could save her from Cathleen’s blasphemy. “But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ. And the head of the woman is the man, and the head of Christ is God.”
Shit.
With a squeeze of his thighs, Ransom urged Asteroid through the assembly, walking the beast right up to the porch. “Time to go,” he said through clenched teeth. Then he reached out, hooked his arm around Cathleen’s hips and dragged her onto the saddle with him.
“Mr. Byrne!”
“Show’s over,” he announced as he carefully wheeled Asteroid around and started back to the pike. “Take the rig home,” he called to Charles as he turned back toward Thompson’s Station.
“What are you doing? I wasn’t finished.” She squirmed against him, inadvertently wriggling her bottom in maddening opposition to his crotch.
&nb
sp; His cock responded in spite of his will—and fury.
“You’re quite finished.” Holding her in a vise grip around the waist, he dug in his heels.
She let out a yelp of surprise as Asteroid thundered down the pike.
Ransom didn’t stop at the big house. He bypassed the barn. He didn’t know why, but he rode all the way to the old house, then swung down from the saddle, hauled Cathleen into his arms and manhandled her into the house.
“Mr. Byrne!” she protested.
His entire body shook with rage. “What the hell do you think you were doing?”
“Educating those women.”
He didn’t relinquish the grip on her arm. “You don’t know these people. That sort of rash behavior might be acceptable in Boston, but not in Tennessee.”
She struggled but he jerked her against him, holding both her arms to prevent her from escaping. “Did you not consider my family’s reputation? Jenny’s? For God’s sake, Cathleen…”
“What I do on my own time is my concern. Unhand me.”
He stared. His heart thudded against his rib cage. His stomach twisted into knots. This woman held not only Jenny’s fate in her hands, but his own as well. He’d never be able to leave this place unless she did her job. He clenched his teeth so hard he feared they might crack.
“Those women need to be educated about how you men are debasing them.”
“‘You men’? ‘Debasing’? Debasing?” That was it. “I’ll show you what debased means.” He was out of control but he couldn’t prevent himself from sitting on the settee and dragging her across his knee.
She thrashed and objected but he delivered three blows to her bottom, infuriated further by the soft thuds that landed on her voluminous skirts and petticoats. With one hand, he gathered both her wrists behind her back and with the other, he tugged up her skirts until he’d bared her thinly clad bottom, and then he smacked that soft flesh several times in hard succession.
The anger driven out of him, he released his hold. She scrambled away, stumbling backward and tearing off her spectacles. They fell from her hands and clattered to the floor. She stood, shoulders heaving with deep breaths, her black hair askew, her eyes wild.
God, she’s beautiful…
The thought came out of nowhere. Remorse warred with rage. Dark desire battled exasperation.
Her hands balled into tight fists. She gaped for several seemingly unending seconds and then rushed toward him.
He expected her to pummel him, to slap him. He certainly deserved it and he braced himself.
Instead, she cupped his face in her hands, tilted his chin up—and covered his mouth with her own.
Chapter Five
Cathleen didn’t stop to wonder what had come over her. For the first time in her life, she acted on impulse. She should have been ashamed, even mortified, that he’d had the audacity to bend her over his knee and spank her. But the contact had produced the opposite effect.
For one smoldering instant, control had been stripped from her, forcibly taken, rendering her forever changed. All at once, years of self-imposed sexual repression had crumbled at her feet, freeing her. Animal instinct had compelled her to give in to her physical desires and kiss him.
She’d never dreamed a kiss could make her feel so…much.
Hard, unyielding lips plied hers. Her hands cradled the dominant strength of his masculine bone structure. His arms crushed her against him, making her feel small in contrast.
Feminine.
Heat radiated from her backside, pooling between her legs. Sure, she’d experienced arousal before, but never anything as annihilating as this. Need surged as wild and fierce as the surf in a nor’easter. She should fight it. She should remember her place.
She didn’t want to.
A growl rumbled in his throat as he stood, his body still molded to hers from head to toe, his mouth still fused with hers. A big hand cupped the back of her head, forcing her chin up as his tongue thrust between her lips. The kiss claimed her, marked her, and left her knees so weak they would have buckled were it not for his steel-hard arm around her waist.
His mouth tasted like nothing comparable. Minty, salty toothpowder laced with something that was uniquely Ransom.
She whimpered as her feet suddenly left the floor. He walked her backward until he’d pinned her against the wall. Drawing a deep enough breath proved difficult. She’d never imbibed but knew instinctively that this is what it felt like to be intoxicated. His body pinned her there and she clung to broad shoulders as hands fought with and rucked up her skirts.
Heat blazed from her, from him. She was too hot. He was too close. But there wasn’t one thing she would alter about this moment.
His knees pushed between hers, parting them, opening her, depriving her of a choice. She couldn’t have prevented him if she’d wanted to. And that was just it. She wanted everything he was prepared to give her and more.
She should have been appalled to be spanked and then taken like a cheap harlot who plied her trade in mean back alleys. Instead, she reveled in this…this freedom that allowed her to experience pleasure without guilt or guile.
Oh God…
His erection pressed against the now slippery crease between her thighs. Her breath caught. Her heart pounded. Blood thrummed through her veins and she tipped her hips to feel more. Her consciousness slipped to the places where their bodies touched. Her mouth, her breasts, her groin.
Take me, Ransom…
She wanted him and at that moment, felt if it didn’t happen, she would surely die from sheer desire.
Fingers plunged through the slit in her drawers, between her legs, and stroked her. There was nothing gentle about the caress. Instead, he probed her folds desperately. His hand trembled as he touched her. His breath rattled. She’d never felt anything so remarkably wonderful. Bliss lurked just out of reach.
A finger teased at her opening, then slid back to rub the knot of nerves crowning her sex.
It all seemed to happen so fast, and yet, to Cathleen, it felt as if time stood still so that every touch, every breath, every beat of her heart left an indelible imprint of this encounter on her soul.
His fingers left her and while he continued kissing her, she felt them working the buttons of his fly. Anticipation stampeded through her being. Yes, yes… “Oh yes,” she managed, uttering the plea into his mouth.
Hard, thick flesh raked through her slit. She couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t even breathe. The pain she’d heard rumored was but a distant thought. All she knew was that she wanted him inside her. Now.
He dipped, his body forcing her harder against the wall. The head of his cock nudged at her barrier and she gasped. Her body trembled violently. “Do it, Ransom. Please…”
He hesitated. His shoulders shook. “Goddammit.”
He took a half step back and Cathleen ached for the loss of his flesh, his heat against her. No…
Frustration and confusion deluged her, and then without warning, one of his hands tangled into the hair at her nape to release her chignon. Hairpins clattered to the floor. His chest anchored her to the wall and his mouth sought hers again as his fingers tantalized her clitoris. Applying the perfect amount of pressure, he rubbed in a circular motion.
Once more she found herself willingly at his mercy. His lips left hers and moved to her ear. Hot, harsh breaths heightened her sensation. She inhaled the scent of his clothes, of his skin, of his mouth—the fragrance of their mutual arousal. Heady and sweet. It made her head swim.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “Let me please you. I want you to die on my fingers.”
She did die. A glorious death.
All at once.
Uninhibited moans spilled from her lips as her channel convulsed and the hard bud beneath his fingertips pulsed with a beat of its own. Every muscle in her body tensed and then seemed to release and float as pleasure fired through her, igniting nerve endings in her scalp then shooting downward to her toes. Stars flashed behind h
er eyelids. She’d never experienced such ecstasy at the hands of another.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed in her ear. “That’s what you wanted.”
It’s not all I wanted. Her lashes fluttered open and she realized how awful this would look to an outsider.
Her breaths came in ragged pants. So did his. Her body jerked as he made one more slow circle of her slippery sex and then removed his hand. Her skirts billowed down as he stepped away, turned his back and did up his breeches.
Mercy.
The last few moments replayed through her head as if they were happening at lightning speed. She, herself, wouldn’t have believed it if she weren’t still humming with lust.
He’d nearly taken her.
Her kiss-swollen lips parted. She closed her eyes at the memory of his cock sliding through her crease. A breath left her lungs in a rush. She could have gotten pregnant! Dear Lord, she’d lost her mind. She’d begged him to take her. Shame flushed her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth without looking back.
She gulped. Her brain grappled for words. Any words. She stood dumbfounded, shocked at her behavior, confounded at how badly she’d wanted him.
“No. It is I who should apologize,” she said hoarsely.
He snorted. “Good day, Miss Ryan.”
She blinked. Had he just dismissed her? Just like that? After what they’d done? She wanted to discuss it, to make sense of it. She stared at his back.
He cut his gaze at her over his shoulder. “Good. Day.” His tone brooked no refusal.
She didn’t even stop to pick up her hairpins. Instead, she fled out the door. Hot tears burned her eyes. The sun blinded her and she shielded her face with her arm. She’d left her glasses, but she wasn’t about to go back and get them.
She rushed to the big house and up the back stairs, then flung herself on her bed and muffled her sobs with her pillow. What had she done?
And why did his cold disregard cause her heart to hurt so badly?
* * * * *
Ransom dropped into his chair. Tension set him on edge. He dug his fingers into the armrests, the motion attracting his gaze to the hand he’d used to pleasure Cathleen. He lifted his fingertips and breathed in the scent of her. So sweet and pure, and decidedly feminine. An image of burying his head between her legs, of tasting her, flashed in his brain. His mouth watered at the thought.