Midnight Secrets

by Janelle Taylor

  Steve noted how she was attired, in a white cotton nightgown patterned with dainty and colorful flowers. It had long sleeves, buttoned to the throat, and reached her ankles, so she was well covered. Yet, the reality of what the garment was and the heady setting enflamed him, almost caused him to lose sight of his mission, his real reason for coming—to get closer to her. The uncertainty about her was driving him wild; he had to be convinced she was what he hoped she was: an innocent beauty attracted to him.

  “No one saw me; I was careful. Your father went to his room and doused his light fifteen minutes ago. My partner joined me here, so he’s in charge of camp tonight. I came to invite you to take a stroll. I didn’t think you’d be turning in so early.”

  “I wasn’t. I couldn’t go out alone, so I planned to lie in bed and read. We had fun. We shopped and ate grandly downstairs and took long baths. I wish I had known sooner and I wouldn’t have gotten un—Oh, my goodness!” she said with a blush as she remembered what she was wearing. “I don’t have a robe with me. I only answered the door because I thought it was Father. Dear me, this is most improper and embarrassing.”

  Steve smiled and murmured, “You look beautiful, Anna. I’m sorry I intruded on your privacy. I’ll leave so you can read and relax. I’ll see you in camp tomorrow. We have a lot of busy days ahead.”

  Without privacy, her mind hinted. “You didn’t intrude, Steve, and I’m happy to see you. I’d rather talk with you than read.”

  Steve looked her in the eye. “I’m not sure it’s wise for me to visit with you here. You’re much too tempting, woman. All I can think about is yanking you into my arms and kissing you.”

  “Why don’t you?” she enticed with bravery as her wits dazed.

  “If I did, I would be too ensnared by you to quit there. I want you, Anna, more than I’ve ever wanted a woman before, for any reason. Every time I see you or hear your voice, I catch on fire.”

  Ginny lifted her hands to caress his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of one, then did the same with the other. She trembled and he did, too. His fingers closed over hers and he gazed deeply and intently into her hazel eyes. She didn’t attempt to pull away.

  “You have too much power, Anna. How could I not want you?”

  “How could I not want you, Steve? You make me feel so strange, so weak and shaky. When you touch me, and sometimes when you only look at me or speak to me, I feel as if I’m standing naked beneath a blazing sun and it’s scorching my flesh. My heart races like a runaway carriage. I can’t think clearly. It feels good and it feels scary. Why do you do this to me?”

  The more she said, the more Steve’s eyes glowed and the more his smile broadened.

  Somehow, both knew what was going to happen between them tonight, what they had craved for what seemed more like an eternity. They no longer had the strength—or desire—to resist. Each knew they could part forever soon. Each also knew loving would bring them closer, a bond each needed.

  Steve cupped her face and kissed her with tenderness and longing. Ginny responded joyously. It only took moments for their kisses to become urgent with rising need.

  Ginny wanted this night with all her soul and she loved this man with all her heart. Johanna’s death had taught her that life could be short, cruel, and demanding. She had to seize this precious moment while it was available. She murmured against his lips, “I don’t know what to do. You’ll have to show me.”

  Her shyness and admission touched his heart. Near a whisper at her ear, Steve said, “Don’t be afraid of me, Anna, or of making love. We can’t deny what we want and need. Resisting each other is too hard.” He drifted his lips down her throat and back to her mouth.

  Ginny’s hands encircled his waist and she pressed closer against him. Her mood encouraged him to continue arousing her. Her fingers stroked his back and relished the feel of his hard frame. She felt aswirl in an unfamiliar and yet instinctively familiar pool, with powerful currents of desire and mystery lapping at her body.

  Steve’s hands slipped into her long and thick tresses. Each kiss fused into another and another; each caress led to an even bolder one. He guided her toward the lamp and doused it, all without interrupting their kisses and caresses. He thought it would be better for her this first time if there was darkness to protect her modesty and to ease her introduction to a man’s naked body. As his mouth lavished adoration on her neck, his deft fingers unfastened the buttons of her gown. He worked the garment off one shoulder, his hand tugging on the sleeve. She assisted him by withdrawing one arm then the other. The gown slipped to the floor around her bare feet. He worked the bloomer laces free and allowed them to join the other garment. He felt her movements as she stepped out of them and nudged them aside with her toes. Contact with her bare flesh heightened his desire and increased his pleasure. His hands were like greedy and starving creatures who feasted on her breasts and soft curves.

  Ginny was amazed by how brave and bold she was being. She was glad he had put out the light so she could use her other senses to get to know him this first time. But next time, she planned ahead to her surprise, she wanted the light on so she could see him. Her breasts were taut and tingling and their buds stood out in rigid yearning. She learned why when Steve kneaded and kissed them. Her body reacted to the blissful new sensations from head to foot.

  Steve lifted her and laid her on the bed. Rapidly, he was out of his clothes. He lay on his stomach with his hips beside her and with his chest over hers. Some instinct or past advice told him to kindle her smoldering coals into a roaring blaze before he took her. He trailed his lips and fingertips over every area of her face, neck, shoulders, and breasts. One hand stroked her abdomen, along her thighs, and inched its way up their inner surface. He used evocative stroking to arouse her to a writhing and breathless state, one which wouldn’t allow her to halt him when he touched her most private places.

  Ginny couldn’t have halted him; her will was stolen, along with her breath. She wanted him so much that a curious bittersweet torment flooded her mind and body. She realized this tantalizing period was leading to something wonderful. She felt her body straining and pleading for something more, much more. Steve was being so gentle, so skillful, so tender, and so filled with the same desire for her.

  Steve knew there was no turning back for either of them. He wished he could view the expression on her face, within her greenish-brown eyes. He wished he could send his gaze on a leisurely journey over her body. His hands were mapping and exploring her well, but seeing it all would enhance his delight. He savored every touch with hand, body, or mouth.

  Ginny’s lips teased over his shoulder and nibbled at his neck. Her fingers roamed the same welcoming territory and trekked onward into his silky hair of midnight black. She didn’t need the lamp’s glow to tell her how he looked; she had memorized every inch of his face. It was time to seek and yield to her destiny. “Whatever comes next, Steve, I’m ready to challenge it,” she murmured in an emotion-strained voice.

  Steve thought she was moist and eager enough to be prepared for his entry. He believed he would be able to please her, even though tiny doubts chewed at his mind, as he’d never been with a virgin before. Anna was different, innocent. He gently moved atop her, kissing her deeply as he eased inside her. He halted when she moaned in discomfort.

  Ginny realized why he stopped. “I’ve heard it only hurts a moment,” she whispered, “so do what you must, quickly, then wait a minute.”

  Steve followed her advice. She gasped, winced, arched her body toward his, and clenched her teeth. He didn’t move, fearing he had injured her. He didn’t know what he should say or do at that point. He waited while she brought her erratic breathing under control and relaxed. He seared her mouth with kisses, branding them as his own.

  “It’s all right now,” she murmured, hoping that was true.

  With gentleness and caution, Steve moved within her, and was relieved when she didn’t flinch or cry out or tell him to withdraw. He worked with sl
ow deliberation to rekindle her doused flames. Soon, she was responding feverishly again, and he increased the pace of his thrusts.

  Ginny’s discomfort vanished and pleasure returned—no, heightened. Her fingers trailed over his face and torso. His broad chest was hairless and firm; it teased against her swollen and sensitive breasts. She had assumed this physical act would be wonderful with Steve, but it was beyond measure or description.

  Steve labored lovingly until she writhed and moaned with need. Pride and joy surged through him when he fulfilled it. Toward the end, she had caught his pace and matched his rhythm until rapturous release came. Her mouth and body clung to his to extract every moment of the glorious experience. He did the same, reveling in the throes of ecstasy, in the wonder of her total surrender to him.

  As they lay nestled together, neither knew what to say—if words were even necessary in the golden aftermath of something so beautiful and special!

  After a while, Steve kissed her and finally spoke. “I have to leave, Anna. We don’t want anyone to find me here like this. I’ll see you in camp tomorrow.”

  Ginny surmised he was tense and uncertain about the intimate situation, probably feared what demands she would make on him. It should surprise and please him when she made none, not yet anyway, not aloud. She smiled into the darkness and murmured, “Good night, Steve.”

  The sated and anxious man calmed a little when she responded in that careful manner. He couldn’t say what the future held for them, but he knew he wanted her again and again. He rose, dressed, strapped on his pistols, and told her good-bye. “Lock the door after me, and don’t open it again without asking who’s there. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Ginny saw him in the hall light when he opened the door and slipped out quietly. She went to obey his protective order. She leaned against the door for a minute, took a deep breath, then returned to bed. She cuddled against the pillow where his head had rested; his scent clung there. “I love you, Steve Carr,” she whispered, “and I want you so much. Please let this bond you to me. Please love me and want me, too.”

  Steve listened outside Charles Avery’s door to make sure the man hadn’t sneaked out to meet anyone. He heard snores from inside and relaxed. He had allowed himself to get distracted again by Anna Avery, and he wasn’t sure that tying her so tightly to him was a smart idea at this point. But he couldn’t help himself, and that worried him even more. It was bad for him if she was guilty; it was wrong of him if she weren’t.

  After crossing the powerful and sometimes treacherous Chattahoochee River by ferry, the wagontrain was in Alabama, birthplace of the defeated Confederacy. They had skilled help from local hired men. Yet, the strong currents, depth, and width of the river made it an almost all-day task. Again, Steve observed the travelers with a keen eye, but no one behaved as if he or she feared the loss of valuable gems. He wondered if the reports had been wrong or if the Red Magnolias’ plans had changed.

  As soon as the ferrying was completed, everyone rested before chores and meals and visits. Steve spent that time with Luther Beams, something Ginny noticed and assumed was another defensive action.

  For the next four days, they journeyed through an area that appeared evergreen with a thick plant cover, countless pines and some hardwoods, and widespread mistletoe on branches. At rivers and ponds, they saw black cypress and waterlilies and willows; in many locations, they encountered bamboo and cane thin enough not to block their way. They passed north/southwest railroad tracks and traveled through sleepy rural communities where homes were scattered, people were poor, and farmers and sharecroppers worked fertile fields. As with other southern states, Alabama had a long and mild growing season, a hundred days more than in the North.

  At first, the eastside landscape was a mixture of low, gentle hills, stretches of flat lowlands, an occasional steep incline or decline, dense forests, rivers, and streams of various widths. The Indian Trail, oldest one to the Atlantic, was pointed out to them, along with churches and cemeteries.

  Then, a section of consistent hills appeared and caused them to move slower for a while. The dirt became redder, a sturdy clay. They crossed spots that though marshy, gave no one trouble, nor did the endless creeks. More oaks and magnolias began to blend in with pines and cedars. Farms were being worked. Abundant morning glories on fences and bushes greeted them each day in pink, white, blue, and lavender.

  Everyone noticed the lack of war devastation in the rural location. It gave them a time to relax and forget it for a while. The talk in camp at night was genial and hopeful. Music and stories were heard more than complaints or grim memories.

  On Tuesday evening, they camped fifteen miles below Montgomery, birthplace of the Confederacy and its first capital. It was a land of white-supremacy beliefs, but under military rule now because Alabamians had refused to ratify the Fourteenth Amendment, as had most other southern states. It looked as if war hadn’t touched this area or, if it had, damages had been repaired and concealed.

  Ginny helped her companion with their daily chores; greasing axles, fetching grain and tending the mules, checking the water barrel supply, cooking, and washing dishes, and making any repairs needed to the gear. In the past four nights since entering Alabama, she also had assisted her friends with chores or by babysitting, as that helped to distract her from Steve’s behavior.

  Those who hadn’t gone into town in Georgia to restock supplies did so. Steve also went to Montgomery, and in a strange mood, she noticed. Since Charles, her “father,” didn’t suggest going, she had no way to meet with the man she loved again. She missed him and longed for him. She feared that their intimacy and brief closeness had Steve panicked. She didn’t know how to convince him otherwise. It had taken a lot of patience and self-control to let him have the space he needed, but she didn’t know how long she could exist in… limbo. He was so capable of dealing with the problems and needs of others but not with his own. As for exposing feelings, she fretted, he made sure he didn’t commit that mistake, that weakness. But why, she reasoned, was it so terrible for their unwed scout to court a single lady?

  Steve was keeping his distance again. He always seemed on alert and inquisitive. Sometimes he appeared to look for a reason to visit with certain men. She felt as if there was a particular motive for him being so watchful and curious, one she couldn’t surmise. She hoped and prayed his mystery didn’t include ensnaring her to aid it.

  After eating, she chatted with Luther “Big L” Beams. “How long have you and Mr. Carr been partners?” she asked.

  The real wagontrain leader smiled and replied, “This is our first job together, but surely not our last. I’m enjoying working with Steve. He went on ahead to train all of you while I brought up the rear with preparations. From what I’ve seen, he did a fine job of teaching everyone.”

  “He did, Mr. Beams, and we’re all grateful…How did you two meet?”

  “The company hired both of us.”

  Ginny talked with him a while longer and realized she wasn’t going to learn anything new about Steve, as she had hoped. She saw how skilled and experienced and easygoing Luther Beams was by observing him with others around camp, on the trail, and while relating stories at night. It seemed to her as if the company should have hired Beams as the leader and Steve as scout and assistant. She wondered why they hadn’t.

  In Montgomery, Steve observed the three men who were his suspects as they shopped and talked with locals, but nothing out of the ordinary took place, to his disappointment. He wanted to be in camp with Anna; no, in the nearest hotel room with her. He couldn’t get their passionate night off his mind. She was closer to him than anyone ever had been except his mother, and, as a child, his deceitful father. He wanted to get even closer to her, but determined not to do so until he had the truth about her, and until his next task was finished. The telegram in his pocket from Georgia informed him that Charles Avery had a nineteen-year-old daughter named Anna, but that didn’t mean “his” Anna was that woman. If onl
y the telegram from Texas had been awaiting him, he would know if Charles had purchased the Box F Ranch in Waco, would know if they were honest, would know if she was worth risking his heart and soul to pursue. It would be a long and tormenting stretch to Jackson and a reply, if one was awaiting him there.

  Steve knew he was avoiding her too much again, but he couldn’t be near her without wanting her, without fear of betrayal chewing at him, without risking exposure of his feelings by the look on his face.

  For the next three days, Ginny stayed busy during the daytime rotating drive shifts with Charles Avery and James Wiggins because Mary came down with an illness that plagued her with vomiting, diarrhea, dizziness, and weakness. The three Wiggins children spent time during the day in the Avery wagon to prevent an excess burden on James’s team with Mary and the toddler riding inside. At night, she tended to her ailing friend’s chores and children. Only the youngest one—eighteen months old—gave any problem, as she couldn’t seem to understand why her mother couldn’t take care of her.

  The driving hadn’t been too difficult for Ginny, even the numerous back-to-back streams at one point or the creek with its boulders to be avoided to prevent broken wheels. In the lush location, they had sighted armadillo, fox, rabbit, squirrel, a few deer, one bear, and several poisonous snakes.

  That night, they camped at the Alabama riverbank where they could bathe and do washing. Ginny and her friends insisted a slowly recovering Mary rest while they did her laundry along with their own.

  Steve watched the generous woman as she worked so hard and long to help her friend. He had done James’s hunting several times, and the man was grateful for the fresh meat for his family. In spite of his apprehension about discovering that Anna was involved in criminal mischief, Steve joined her as she finished her washing. His heart pleaded: Please don’t confess anything terrible to me when I probe for clues. “You’ve been mighty busy these past few days, Anna. I bet you’re exhausted and sore. James tells me his wife is better, so you shouldn’t have double duty much longer. I’m sure you can use the rest.”