"As long as you know you did your best, you have no reason to blame yourself. Don't let anyone else blame you, either."
"I don't want to be a midwife if this is going to happen. I can't stand it."
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"But there has to be somebody to help women like Mrs. Marfa."
"Maybe you can teach women like her the importance of good medical care."
"You think so?"
"You can do anything you want. You're a remarkable woman."
She had stopped crying and was resting her head on his shoulder. "You didn't always think that."
"I haven't always been very smart."
She chuckled. "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that."
"I didn't think I'd ever say it. I had to be right all the time because I'd already been wrong enough for a lifetime."
She sat up, looked at him with tear-filled eyes. "I can't believe that." She wiped her eyes with her hands. He pulled out his handkerchief.
"Here, let me."
"You probably hate crying women. Most men do."
"I think you're beautiful, even when you cry."
"You can't like having me soak your shirt."
"It's worth it if it makes you feel better."
"You have a way of making people believe that things aren't really so bad, that they will get better."
Nobody had ever said that to Holt. Most of his life, he'd been blamed for things that went wrong. Even with Vivian, his uncle said she wouldn't have run off with Abe Calvert if Holt had been there to talk her out of it.
"Do you really mean that?"
She sat up so she could look him in the eye. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I've been a thorn in your side ever since I got here. You've told me time and time again that you can't wait until I leave your house."
"You forced me to face some uncomfortable truths, but I've always liked you. You're always putting yourself on the line for other people. You didn't have to care enough about my father or his patients to insist that he be sober. You didn't have to care enough to help my father with his practice and sit up with him and help him through the worst of his withdrawal. You cared enough about me to make me see what I was doing to Papa and myself. But there's one thing I've discovered about you that I don't like."
One step forward, one step back. He and Felicity had been at loggerheads from the beginning.
"You're so busy taking care of other people, you haven't done anything to create your own happiness."
"You're not one to talk."
"I know. I think we ought to make a pact right now."
He felt a little uneasy. Every time someone extracted a promise from him, he ended up regretting it.
"First is a declaration. We deserve to be happy. There's no reason why being concerned about others should mean we can't be happy, too."
"I agree."
"The second is a plan of action. From now on, we're going to concentrate on discovering what makes us happy. Once we know, we're going to do something about it."
"I'm ahead of you there. I already know what will make me happy."
"What?"
"Kissing you."
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. She hesitated at first, then allowed herself to be drawn into the kiss. The hunger Holt had held in check burst forth with such vigor, he had to restrain himself from taking Felicity's mouth in an all-out assault. Her defenses were down. He didn't want to take unfair advantage, but he couldn't waste the opportunity to do what he'd only been able to do in his dreams--kiss her until she believed he could truly like her better than any other woman.
Chapter Twenty-three
Felicity didn't allow herself to think of any of the hundred or so reasons she shouldn't be sitting on her bed with Holt's arms around her, yielding to the temptation to let him kiss her until she could think of no one but the two of them. It seemed that all her life she'd done what she ought to do, what it was her duty to do. Just this once she made up her mind to do what she wanted. She would deal with the consequences later.
She would have plenty of time after Holt was gone.
Casting aside all inhibitions, all restraints, she allowed herself to enjoy Holt's embrace. It felt so wonderful to have a strong man's arms around her. She didn't feel alone. She didn't feel she was holding back the tide by herself, that no one else saw or cared about the danger. Holt knew, he understood, he would help her as long as she wanted.
And she did want.
She liked the feel of his lips on her mouth. They were strong, masculine, inviting without demanding. When he buried his face in her neck, she felt shivers run all though her body. She didn't know what she'd thought a man did with his hands when he held a woman in his arms--she'd assumed they were just sort of there. She was wrong. Holt's hands seemed to touch every part of her back from her shoulders to her waist. Her skin became so sensitive, it began to compete with his kisses for her attention.
Shock rocketed through her body when his tongue parted her lips and forced its way into her mouth. It swaggered around in her mouth like a marauder, searching out her sweetness with unerring accuracy. Rising as though from a deep sleep, her tongue danced with his, then ventured into his mouth.
Holt had said he thought she was pretty, but she didn't believe he could mean it, not after Vivian. But he had come to her room to comfort her. He was holding her, kissing her, giving the impression of a man who liked what he was doing. Surely he wouldn't be doing it if he didn't find her attractive.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"I already told you I do."
"You were trying to persuade me to go to the party with you then. Do you really think I'm pretty?"
"Have you forgotten Beau Stregghorn?"
"I don't count him. He'd probably make eyes at any willing female."
"You're pretty even in those dreadfully plain dresses you insist upon wearing. Your skin looks nearly white in contrast to your hair. Your eyes are like near-black pools that hold their secrets close. As for your lips, well, I think they're perfect for kissing. I've dreamed about them more nights than I care to admit."
She sat up. "You dreamed about me?" No one had ever done that. It was like getting a Christmas present on a perfectly ordinary day. "Not about me telling you to leave, I hope."
He smiled. "A far more pleasant way than that."
"What way?"
"I don't think I'd better tell you just yet. You might want to slap me."
She pulled out of his embrace, lay back on the bed, and looked up into his eyes. They were inky black, but they seemed to glow, even sparkle. There was nothing sinister or threatening about them. There was warmth, welcome.
"Maybe you should show me," she said. She didn't know what he intended to do, but she desperately wanted to believe that somebody wanted her for herself. Not for what she could do.
Leaning over her, he framed her face with his hands. "I could look at you like this all evening."
It was a good beginning, but she wanted more.
"You have the kind of face a man could look on day after day and find something new each time."
It still wasn't what she wanted. "How can that be true if my face doesn't change?"
"Because your face is a direct reflection of your character, the person you are, what you're feeling inside. As you grow and change, so does your face."
Okay, that sounded nice, but still it didn't hit the mark. She had to admit she was looking for something frivolous, something silly like Your eyes make me think of twinkling stars. Your skin is as soft as white velvet. Your kisses are sweeter than honey.
"But that's not really why I like being with you so much," he continued. "There's something that happens to me when you're around that's never happened before. I don't know why, but I feel more alive. I feel eager, expectant, as it something wonderful is going to happen at any minute. There's something about you no one else has."
She wanted to tell him he affected her very much the same way. From the first, even when she was angry and so afraid she wanted him to leave immediately, there'd been something about him that had made her want him to stay.
"Papa says some people have an attraction between them that's so strong they can't resist it. Do you believe that?"
"I can believe they don't want to resist it." He leaned down and feathered kisses across her mouth. "That's the way I feel about you."
Felicity put her arms around his neck and pulled him down next to her. She knew it wasn't wise, that she might be sorry tomorrow, but she decided to let tomorrow take care of itself.
"I don't want to resist, either." She didn't know how she got the courage to say that, but she was glad she had. She would never have another man in her life like Holt.
Holt didn't need a second invitation. He covered her mouth and eyes with clusters of kisses that were gentle and fleeting. It was like being kissed by butterflies. But when he kissed her ears, it wasn't the same at all. Where he'd been unbelievably gentle before, now he was teasing, nipping her earlobe, dipping his tongue into the shell of her ear, then trailing kisses down the side of her neck before beginning another assault on her ear.
Felicity felt as if she would melt from sheer pleasure. The pleasure was even greater when he unbuttoned the top of her dress until he could pull it off her shoulders. She had felt herself stiffen until his lips touched her shoulders. The shivers that raced through her body were amplified when he started to trace patterns there with the tip of his moist tongue.
She took his face in her hands and pulled him up so she could kiss him. "I never dreamed that anyone could make me feel so wonderful," she said.
"This is only the beginning," Holt said.
They kissed again, long and languorous kisses that made her wish they could go on forever. But even as she was imagining being able to kiss Holt like this forever, he opened her dress until he exposed the tops of her breasts. He trailed kisses across the side of her mouth, down her neck, across her shoulders, and across the tops of her breasts. Holt was right. It had been only the beginning. She'd never experienced anything like this.
Felicity had never had any really close friends, but she was aware that some women claimed they were so strongly affected by their senses they sometimes couldn't control their actions, couldn't make themselves do what they knew was best. She'd always considered this nonsense. No intelligent person would allow herself to be ruled by anything but her brain. To do so was merely seeking an excuse for weakness of character. She had already accepted that the heart could overrule the brain. How else could she have fallen in love with Holt? Now it looked as though she was about to learn a lesson that women had known since the beginning of time.
Her body was the repository of a wealth of sensations so vast she would never be able to experience them all. Nor control them.
She was unable to lie still. She writhed under the assault of sensations electrifying her body. She'd never been so acutely aware of any part of her body in her entire life. Not even pain could compare to the impact made by the feeling of Holt's lips on her breasts. She couldn't think of anything else. Didn't want to think of anything else. Every sensation became more intense when Holt loosened her shift and exposed her breasts to his warm, soft lips. When his hot, moist tongue touched her firm nipple, she thought she would rise off the bed.
Felicity's body went rigid. She was sure her gasp was loud enough to be heard by half the neighbors, but she didn't care. She couldn't have stopped it if she had wanted to. She was completely, utterly in the throes of sensations so new, so strong, and so vital, she was helpless to control her body. She could only react with shock, surprise, and pleasure to each new one. When Holt began to suckle her nipple, she realized there was no end to the sensations she could experience. Each one seemed like the ultimate, so keen, so excruciatingly pleasurable that it was impossible to experience anything more intense. Yet each new feeling increased the potency of her pleasure even more than the last. When he nipped her nipple with his teeth, she knew she couldn't stand any more.
"Stop!" she said. "I can't stand it."
But he didn't stop, and she was grateful, for she knew she didn't mean it.
"Holt, you've got to stop. I'll go crazy."
Even though she knew she would be in agony if he did stop, she couldn't control the words coming out of her mouth. She had become two beings, each locked in a struggle with the other for control of her body.
Holt released her nipple. "Do you really want me to stop?"
"Yes," she said as her body arched upward and she took his face between her hands and forced his mouth back to her nipple. "You're driving me crazy. I don't think I can stand it any longer." She directed his attention to her other nipple. When he seemed to hesitate, she pulled him tight against her. It was agony, but it was an agony she couldn't resist.
Felicity's attention was so tightly focused on what Holt was doing to her breasts, she didn't realize that one hand had moved beneath her dress until she felt his fingers on her upper thigh. Her attention was torn between two parts of her body, between two different sensations, between two different messages being shouted from her brain. She felt herself hesitate, felt some of the heat in her body start to cool. Then she felt a new and unfamiliar sensation in her belly, the sensation of heat pooling, growing warmer, slowly spreading out to encompass more of her, gradually taking away any desire to resist.
Even as Holt's hand drew near her inner self, she felt her body slowly begin to relax, to open to receive him. It wasn't a shock when his fingers entered her. It was new, unknown, but it wasn't unanticipated. Her body and soul knew this was what she wanted, that this was a necessary part of the feelings they had for each other. But when his fingers found and began to gently rub the most sensitive spot of all, she was unable to contain herself.
She heard herself groan as the waves of pleasure grew more intense and washed over more and more of her body. Her body writhed, arched, and pushed itself against Holt's hand in its need to satisfy the hunger that gnawed at her. But nothing seemed to satisfy it. The harder she tried, the greater the need became, until she thought she would die from it. Surely no human body was supposed to endure such a struggle. She heard herself cry out, but she formed no words of protest, nothing to tell him she had never realized that great pleasure could be great agony at the same time. Her body strove for release, for escape, unable to decide between the two. Then when she was certain she could stand no more, her pleasure peaked in a flood of exquisite sensation.
But there was only a moment's release. Even as Felicity felt the tension retreat from the unbearable heights of moments ago, she felt Holt entering her, stretching her, filling her beyond what she'd thought was possible. Almost immediately the tension reversed itself and started to build once again. As Holt moved within her, she felt a different kind of connection. She felt closer to him, like they belonged together. She put her arms around him and drew him close. He gathered her in his embrace, kissed her with such passion she felt consumed by him.
She wanted to be lost in his embrace, to be enfolded by him, to be part of him so they could never be torn apart. As the tension in her body increased, as her body rose to meet him, becoming an equal participant in taking pleasure and giving pleasure, she felt she'd finally reached a place where life would begin to give her the kind of happiness and fulfillment she'd dreamed of. Anything was possible as long as she was in Holt's arms.
Felicity lay awake, unable to sleep. Next to her, Holt lay sprawled across the bed, only part of his naked body covered by the sheet. Even in the dark, she pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts. No matter how wonderful the night had been, no matter how much she'd like to do it all over again, she couldn't quite be comfortable in bed nude without something covering her body.
She could hardly believe the events of this night. Holt had stayed with her, making love to her twice more, making sweeter love in between when he held her and told
her how much his feelings for her had changed his life, had enabled him to see everything he'd done in a different perspective.
He hadn't said he wanted to marry her, he hadn't said he'd be faithful for the rest of his life, but he couldn't be talking about anything else. She finally believed that Holt loved her as much as she loved him.
Yes, she loved him. She was no longer afraid she'd wake up and find it had all been a dream. Neither of them had the answers just yet to all the questions that faced them, but they'd figure it out between them.
They had to, because they were in love.
She couldn't believe how wonderful it felt. Much more wonderful than she'd ever hoped. She didn't fear she'd become so obsessed with him she'd go crazy if anything ever happened to him. She didn't fear he would take over her life and tell her what to do. She didn't fear he would ignore her abilities or undervalue them. She looked ahead to a future that was going to unravel all the troubles in her life. She reached over and shook Holt.
"What?" he said, his eyes still closed, his voice thick with sleep.
"It's time to get up."
He reached for her. "I'd rather stay here."
"Me, too, but I have to fix breakfast, and you have to get back to your room before my father wakes up."
Holt opened one eye. "You think he'd disapprove?"
"He's been trying to get me to marry you for weeks, but I expect he'd like to see the wedding before the consummation."
The second eye popped open at the mention of the word wedding. "I see what you mean." He looked around for his clothes. "We made a mess."
"Neither of us was thinking about neatness." She shivered when Holt planted a kiss on her belly.
"I'd much rather think about you," he said.
"So would I, but you have to put on your clothes and go to your room."
"It seems pointless to put them on just to take them off again."
"Would you rather risk Papa seeing you leaving my room naked?"
"That might be hard to explain."
Born To Love Page 27