by DAVIDSON, Carolyn. MALLERY, Susan. WILLIAMS, Bronwyn (in) Montana Mavericks
“Just enjoy yourself,” she said. “James will know what to do, and if he’s anything like Will, he’ll do it well.”
Kate nodded, her thoughts echoing Lizzy’s words. I’m counting on that. A trace of apprehension slowed her footsteps as she stepped from the house onto Will and Lizzy’s wide, sweeping porch. “Thanks so much for the meal. It was wonderful,” she told Lizzy, studiously avoiding Will’s gaze. He, in turn, was shaking James’s hand, once more congratulating his cousin.
“I’m going to sound out the rest of the council members about Kate teaching after you’re married. It looks kinda iffy, though.” He looked over at Kate and Lizzy and lowered his voice. “When will they start your house?”
“Next week,” James said. “I bought a lot on High Street, next to the mill owner’s place. A double lot, in fact. Tommy Blair, the new fellow at the mill, said he’d get a crew together and get started Monday for sure.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard, now that the threshing is done with, to find men looking for a few weeks work,” Will said.
“I’m working on that,” James told him, stepping down from the porch and drawing Kate to his side. “We’ll see you in church on Sunday.”
The buggy was halfway to the schoolhouse before Kate spoke. “You’re going to church with me?”
“Don’t you want me to?” he asked, bending to peer down beneath the brim of her bonnet.
“Oh, yes. I do.” She slid her hand through his arm. “Do you think folks will guess? I mean, will we look married?”
James mouth twitched. “I’m not sure how I’m gonna look on Sunday, but right now I’ll bet I look like a happy man.”
“Will folks see us driving into town?” she asked cautiously.
“I’ll drop you off and take the buggy to the livery stable,” he said. “Don’t be anxious, Kate. Things are going to work out. It’s going to be dark by the time I get there.”
“Anxious? You think I’m anxious?” She bit at her lip. “Whatever for?” She was far from anxious for the sun to go down, if the truth be told. And it was almost at the horizon now. With darkness would come the moment of truth, and she had no idea what James would expect of her. She’d caught on pretty well to the kissing game, but beyond that her education was sadly lacking.
“I don’t know much about this, James,” she said suddenly, blurting the words in a rush.
“I don’t expect you to,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want you to worry about it, Kate. I’m a grown man, twenty-eight years old, and I’m aware that you’re a virgin. I won’t push you, honey. We’ll do this nice and easy.”
This. The single word entailed the whole marriage act, the unveiling of male and female, and the ultimate coming together of husband and wife. So casually James was able to speak of such a thing. And so heavily Kate’s own inadequacies loomed over her head.
“Well, at least you’ve seen my legs already,” she said, “and you liked them. Maybe the rest of me will please you, too.” She drew her skirts about her as the buggy approached the door of the schoolhouse, ready to alight.
James lifted her down, then climbed the single step to her porch and looked down at her. “I’m already pleased with you, honey. You don’t need to worry on that score. Go on in. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He was true to his word, and in less than ten minutes he returned. His hand turned the knob, and he swung the door wide. “Come here, Mrs. Kincaid. I’m going to carry you over the threshold. This may not be our home, but it’s where we’re starting this marriage, and we’ll do this right.”
Her feet barely touched the stoop when he scooped her into his arms. She clung to his neck, ducking with him as they entered the room, and then she felt herself slide to the floor, James’s arms circling her waist and drawing her tightly against him. He turned, taking her with him, one foot rising to push the door shut, and then she was immersed in his kiss.
She heard the latch fall to lock the door against intruders, was aware of his hands untying her bonnet, then felt the release of her hair tumbling down her back as he loosened the pins binding its length. They scattered to the floor, each small sound magnified in the silence, and still he kissed her. His mouth was warm, his lips avid, as though he could not taste deeply enough of her essence. And she gave what he demanded.
The genteel man who had paced by her side vanished. Gone was the dapper groom, with starched shirt and black string tie. And the supper guest at Will’s table was transformed into a man who it seemed had lost all intention of “taking it nice and easy.”
“James?” Kate came up for breath, aware of the trembling hands that cupped her face, looking up to meet the gaze of blue eyes that blazed like a hot summer sky. “It’s not dark out yet,” she whispered, and was immediately aware that the coming of nightfall was not a necessary thing so far as James was concerned.
“I can see you better in the twilight,” he murmured. “And I’m going to slow down, in just a minute, honey. I just need to taste you a little, and then we’ll work on getting you out of those clothes.”
Even as he spoke, his hands were working at the buttons she’d taken so long to match with their corresponding bound buttonholes. They marched up the back of her dress and while she’d admired the way the dress looked on her, and the becoming ruffle that served as a collar, buttoning it had taken an inordinate amount of time. Now, it seemed, James was having no such problem.
He slid it from her shoulders and his mouth followed its path, his lips touching her skin with reverent caresses, across the width of her shoulder, then over the curve to her arm. It was a slow journey and he nibbled and tasted the skin, causing shivers to travel the length of her spine. His laugh was low, sounding of triumph and satisfaction, and Kate felt a smile curl her lips.
Her petticoat was untied and allowed to fall, and then he stood before her, his eyes shedding their warmth on the upper curves of her breasts. Beneath her camisole, she felt them tighten, and squared her shoulders, resisting the urge to cover their fullness. James had said he wanted to kiss her there, and as much as she felt the discomfort of being undressed by James’s hands, she felt a moment’s pride, knowing for the first time the feminine joy in being the object of a man’s desire.
The movement of fingers that trembled told her he was eager; the narrowed gaze he dealt her and the ruddy slashes of color on his high cheekbones sent a message of bridled passion even an ignorant bride could not mistake.
Her chemise was undone, stripped from her and James touched her bare skin with long, callused fingers. Tenderly, as if her flesh were fragile, easily marred by his big hands, he held her breasts in his palms, and she caught her breath, a sense of exquisite yearning rising within her being, bringing tears to her eyes.
He bent his head, and his mouth touched her, there where the rosy peaks ached for the caress of his mouth and tongue. “I warned you I’d do this, honey,” he reminded her, and she nodded, too caught up in the heated, yet delicate movements of his mouth to murmur a sound. Deep inside, there where she’d known a child would one day form and grow, she felt a tightening, a warmth and then a sense of emptiness, as though that part of her ached for James’s attention.
She moved restlessly, her hips swaying, her bottom tightening, and James laughed again and shifted one hand to press against her, moving in a slow circle on the seat of her drawers. Inflexibly, he pulled her closer, and then she was pressed tightly against his lower body, where a blunt ridge nudged her female parts. Her breasts were damp from his tongue, cooled by the absence of his mouth, and she shivered in his arms.
His shirt was harsh against the tender flesh, yet she rubbed against the fabric, easing the ache that would not be stilled. Again he chuckled, and his head dipped to capture her mouth, whispering words she could not decipher, phrases uttered in a dark, passionate voice. “Sweetheart…” It seemed to be his favorite name for her, and she reveled in its sound. “Honey…let me…” His hands slid to the front of her drawers and he untied them with deft
touches and she felt them slide down her legs to pool around her feet, joining the petticoat and dress. But for the stockings she’d fastened with a new pair of garters, blue ones with lacy edging, she was buck naked. And now it seemed his attention was to be bestowed on the silken stockings themselves.
He knelt in front of her, his hands unrolling the pale, cobwebbed hosiery, fingers behind her knees, only to spread wide as he caressed the rounding length of her calves, circled her ankles, then lifted her feet from the confines of her shoes. The stockings were poked into the shoes, and his fingers rubbed her feet, paying special attention to her high arches. She wiggled, inhaling sharply.
That such a simple touch should send shards of heat to that already swollen, molten place between her thighs was not to be believed. But it was so, and she shifted, her hips beginning the slow movement she could not seem to control.
Rising, James lifted her, carrying her to the narrow bed in the corner, and, bending, he placed her atop the quilt. “I don’t know if this is going to work, Kate. What would you say to putting the quilt on the floor?” He grimaced, and his smile was faint. “I’d rather have you on a nice, big bed, but I’m afraid this will have to do for tonight.”
She nodded, gathering the quilt around her as she rose, then stood looking at him. Should she drop it to the floor, or lower herself and wait for him to join her there? There had to be some sort of etiquette about this whole procedure, but Lizzy certainly hadn’t mentioned it.
Standing before her, James unbuttoned his shirt, then undoing his belt, he opened the front of his trousers. “I’ve slept on a floor before,” he said wryly, “but I’ll warrant you haven’t, have you?”
She shook her head, too entranced by his actions to speak. He apparently was planning of divesting himself of all his clothing, right in front of her. And what else could she expect? He’d managed to strip her with hardly a murmur on her part. His shirt dropped to the floor and Kate sat down abruptly, unable to look aside as he lowered his trousers and stepped out of them. Somehow he’d shed his boots and now he slid his stockings off and tossed them aside.
“Kate? Shall I leave my drawers on? I don’t want to upset you.” For the first time he looked somber, unsure of himself and she responded quickly.
“No. I don’t care, James.”
His brow quirked. “Now just what did that mean?” he asked.
She inhaled deeply and pushed the quilt aside, watching his eyes widen at her action. Without another word, he shoved his drawers to the floor and kicked them off. With a swift move, he was beside her, spreading the quilt around her like the tablecloth at a picnic meal. And for some reason she felt akin to the main course. He knelt before her and pressed her shoulders to the quilt, reaching up to the cot for her pillow. Sliding it beneath her head, he arranged her hair, spreading it across the white surface.
His eyes glittered fiercely as his fingers tangled in the waves and curls, and then he gripped a handful, allowing it to slide between his fingers. “You look exactly as I’d imagined,” he murmured, touching her collarbones and tracing their length. His gaze roamed to her breasts and she felt the taut drawing sensation there, knowing that he watched as it happened.
His tongue touched the inside of his upper lip and his words were slurred as he whispered her praise. “That’s nice, very nice,” he said softly. Bending, he tested the puckered crests with his tongue and her bottom rose from the floor, her head tilting back in an involuntary movement. “Ah, Katie girl, you like that, don’t you?”
She could not speak, for even as his mouth made magic against the softness of her breasts, his hand moved to capture that part of her that ached for his touch. Opening to his urging, she allowed his fingers the freedom to explore as he would, feeling the tingling that radiated through her moist tissues, knowing a moment’s pause when he sought and found the source of her need.
And then groaned aloud as he claimed the narrow passage with a gently probing finger. Her hips rose again to meet the tender invasion and James eased his way a bit farther.
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You’re as tight as a miser’s pursestrings, and I’m afraid I’ll hurt you before this night is half begun.”
“I don’t care,” she whimpered, aching to clench that errant finger and hold it fast. If only… She could not begin to understand what it was she wanted but surely James knew. Surely in all his years of wandering he’d found the answer to her need, and would do whatever it took to ease the craving that possessed her. “Please, James,” she begged.
His hand left her, his head rose from its place against her breast and she reached for him, blindly, eyes tightly closed. “James?” It was a plaintive wail and he responded in an instant.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” he murmured against her ear, kneeling between her thighs, making room for himself, and hoping in his heart of hearts that he would not leave her wanting. She was soft, small and innocent, and those were qualities he’d never encountered before in a woman.
Especially the innocent part. Now, when he wanted the most to please, he felt the most incapable of that very thing. She was vulnerable before him, and he shrank from the piercing of her maidenhead, certain it would bring her pain.
And yet, there was no way out. In order to bring pleasure, pain must occur. Or at least that was what he’d been told, back in those days when it seemed unlikely he would ever know the purity of a virgin in his bed. She trembled beneath his touch, and yet when her eyes opened and looked into his, he saw no fear, only the heat of desire.
One hand beneath her bottom, he lifted her, easing his way past the opening of her tight passage. And then he lowered himself over her, pressing against the barrier that blocked his way.
“Hold tight, sweetheart.” The words were forced through gritted teeth, sounding guttural as he whispered them against her ear. She clenched around him, and with a measured thrust, he surged within, wincing as she uttered one small, sharp cry. He held himself still, waiting for the acceptance of her body to enclose him, determined to linger, unmoving, until the taut muscles relaxed, lest he cause more pain and tearing to her fragile flesh.
“Are you all right?” he asked, praying she would nod, or smile or in some way tell him he had not totally botched this whole thing.
“Oh, James!” It was a sigh of repletion if he was any judge of such things. And he lifted to look into her eyes. “I feel so full, so complete, as if I were made for this.” Tears ran from her eyes to be caught by the soft hair at her temples, and he bent to touch them with the tip of his tongue.
“I know I hurt you, sweetheart, but it couldn’t be helped.”
“It’s all right. I’m fine,” she assured him, and then as he moved, withdrawing, then pushing deeper into her body, her eyes widened and she whimpered, a sound he knew with certainty was not associated with pain. Her legs lifted to wrap around his hips, and she tilted her bottom upward, the better to contain his length.
“All right now?” he asked, the words gasping from his throat as he eased into a steady rhythm. She nodded, her eyes closing, her forehead creasing as if she must concentrate on the sensations that brought her hips into a movement to match his. And she was more than “all right” he discovered, her breath shuddering in her throat, her small, keening cries delivering a message of desire met and fulfilled.
His body betrayed him then, her rapture catapulting him into a shattering release he could only endure, teeth clenched, head thrown back, and the sound of her name echoing from the low ceiling of the room.
“Ah, Katie,” he whispered. “I’m hoping you’re not too sore, sweetheart.” He rolled to his side, carrying Kate with him, drawing the quilt to cover her as he tucked her against his heart. Her legs tangling with his and her arm clutching his neck, Kate hung on like the moss on the north side of a tree.
She clung to him, and he held her closely, one hand sweeping from nape to the rounded curves of her bottom, as if he must assure himself that he
had not damaged her, or in any way left her wanting with his primitive possession of her body. The noble thing to do, he thought, would be to let her heal for a day or so, and he set his mind to the decision. Only to have it put aside by her next words.
“No, I’m not hurting,” she said thoughtfully. “And what little pain there was I forgot as soon as…” She giggled. His Kate actually giggled and he hugged her closer. “Lizzy was right,” she murmured against his throat. “She told me that if you were anything like Will, you’d know what to do, and you’d do it well.”
He laughed, reason returning with her matter-of-fact statement. “She did, did she? And when did you have this conversation?”
“On the porch, when we left their house.” She yawned widely and stretched. “I was all worried for nothing, wasn’t I?”
“Were you?” he asked. “Worried, I mean? Were you afraid of me, Kate? Afraid to take a gamble on a man like me?”
“Afraid?” She seemed to consider the idea for a moment. “No, never that. Just a little wary, maybe. Actually, you were the one who took the gamble, marrying an old maid. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, James. And I didn’t know anything about this part of it. Still don’t know much, for that matter.”
“Once I teach you a few things, you’ll be just fine, honey,” he said complacently, teasing her gently; then waited for her outburst.
“Don’t sound so cocky,” she warned him, shoving him to his back and rising over him to prop her arms against his chest. “I may not know much about this yet, but I’m a fast learner, Mr. Kincaid, and I have a good imagination.”
So much for nobility, he decided. “Well, Mrs. Kincaid,” he drawled, “let’s just see what you can come up with.”
HE LEFT BEFORE DAWN, and Kate burrowed into the thin mattress of her cot, her body aching in numerous places. But it was a pleasant ache, she decided, one she would no doubt become accustomed to over the next fifty years or so. James had left reluctantly, but with her hand firmly pressed into his back, nudging him out the door. He’d run at a lope around the outskirts of town, so that his final approach to Mrs. Harroun’s boardinghouse would be from the opposite direction.