by Paty Jager
“Ahem—” The sound shook her out of the haze of desire she’d become veiled in. Rachel pulled her hand away from Clay’s as the waiter placed their meal on the table.
“Roast three o-clock, potatoes with gravy six, and beans at nine,” she said, before starting on her own meal. They ate in companionable silence until the waiter returned and offered a tray of decadent sweets.
She started to explain each fancy confection on the silver tray.
“You choose one and we’ll share,” Clay said.
“What if I pick something you don’t like?”
“Then you’ll get it all.” Clay laughed and the waiter watched her with rapt attention.
“I’ll take that one.” She pointed to the chocolate cake topped with a swirl of creamy frosting.
“Excellent choice,” the waiter said, placing the cake on the table between them.
Rachel picked up her fork and cut a small bite. “Open your mouth.”
She smiled and slid the fork and bite between his parted lips. He closed his mouth around the cake and leaned back. The muscles in his lean face moved under his tanned skin. A dab of frosting remained on his lips. What would it taste like to lick it off? She refrained from making a spectacle and reached across the table, skimming her finger over his bottom lip. The softness sent a tremor of anticipation rippling through her body.
Clay’s eyes widened at her touch. His lips parted slightly, and he leaned forward, drawing her finger into his mouth and licking.
His actions made the juncture between her legs throb. She moaned and he captured her wrist.
“Are you all right?” His voice was huskier than usual.
“Yes, no. I’m—” She leaned across the table and whispered, “Your actions are making a wanton woman of me.”
A wide, smug smile deepened his dimple and softened the planes of his face.
She laughed. “Don’t look so full of yourself. I don’t care to be unraveled in a public place.”
“Finish your dessert and we’ll go to the train. We’ll book a Pullman car which will give us a tiny bit of privacy and more comfort than a regular passenger car.”
Her nerves buzzed. They would remain together through the night. In close quarters. She stared at the man sitting so straight and handsome. Her insides fluttered and heated. Whether they wound up married or not, he was the only man she would ever love. If she didn’t take what moments in his arms she could, she would forever regret it.
She shoved the half-eaten cake to the middle of the table. “I’m finished.”
Clay stood, walked around to her chair, and pulled it out for her. When she stood, he didn’t step back. His lips nibbled on her ear, his warmth and nearness drugging her like a whiff of chloroform.
“Whatever you want tonight is yours. Sleep in separate beds or one.”
Her body trembled at the thought of spending the night in his arms.
“Was the meal satisfactory?” the waiter asked, stepping in front of them.
Rachel inhaled, steadying her emotions.
“Yes.” Clay held out his hand for the bill. Rachel’s boldness during the meal had shown him a side to her he wished to explore in private. The waiter placed a paper in his palm. Clay slipped the paper to Rachel.
“Ten dollars!”
Her flabbergasted tone made him smile. “You’re worth every penny.” Clay pulled the folded tens from his pocket, handed one to the waiter, and then slid a silver dollar in the man’s hand. “Thank you for a wonderful meal.” He grasped Rachel’s arm, and they strolled out of the restaurant.
“That was robbery! I’ve never eaten such high priced food in my life!” She fumed about the price of the meal all the way back to the train station.
His comments didn’t appease her. Only one thing would quiet her. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her sputtering lips. He’d planned a brief kiss to get her thinking of something other than the price of the meal, but once his lips touched her petal soft mouth, he forgot everything but pleasing her and branding her as his. Her lips parted. He slid his tongue in and tasted sweet chocolate and tart champagne.
A rap on his knuckles shocked him. He jerked out of the kiss and pulled Rachel to his side.
“This is a public place. You two should keep such tomfoolery to your own home.”
The shrill female voice rankled. But she was right. He’d forgotten they were in public.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I lost my head once my lips touched hers.” He twined his fingers with Rachel’s. “Let’s get our tickets.”
Rachel’s soft laughter surprised as well as taunted him.
“What are you laughing at?”
“The look on your face when that woman chastised you.” Rachel squeezed his arm and heat zinged through him.
“You looked like a little boy who was caught spying on girls bathing.”
“I’m glad you find it funny. It was your reputation I tarnished.” He would never understand this woman. Any other woman would have reprimanded him for his poor behavior in public. If someone hadn’t stopped him, his hands could have started roaming over her body. The thought nearly stopped him in his tracks.
“Mr. Halsey, you can tarnish my reputation anytime you want.” She laughed, and then inhaled a deep breath. “Besides, it was my fault, too. I should have pulled out of the kiss. I knew we were in the middle of a crowd, but when you kiss me… the world ceases to exist.”
He groaned. “You keep talking like that, and I’ll have to pull you in my arms and kiss you again and blast the old ladies who don’t like it!”
Her melodious laughter chimed in his ears. He loved the sound of her voice and laughter. His chest filled with pride. His heart drank her in deeper.
She sobered and drew him to a halt beside her. “Two tickets to Baker City in a Pullman car,” she said.
“Twenty each. You’ll be on The Wallula,” a male voice said.
Rachel rustled in her handbag.
“Have a good trip.”
“We shall,” Rachel replied, and Clay was once again favored with her arm around his as they strolled along.
“There it is, The Wallula. We have compartment number eight.” She stopped. “Three steps.”
Her hand wrapped his fingers around a railing. He used the hold to gauge the steepness of the steps. She trod on dull sounding wood stairs. He followed, and her fingers locked with his, drawing him forward.
“Heavens!” Her intake of breath released on a sigh. “This is the most beautiful coach I’ve ever seen.”
Their footsteps were cushioned and muffled. The air smelled of wood and new upholstery. He tipped his head toward two muted voices. They weren’t the first on the coach.
“The seats are velvet and padded.”
The wonder in Rachel’s words made Clay smile. “You haven’t been in a Pullman car?”
“No. When I went back east to school, the route was mainly short hops on different trains, and when I came back, I was thrifty.”
Clay shook his head. “From what I’ve encountered, I would say you’re the only thrifty member of your family.”
She laughed. “True. I could never fathom the money my mother and sister spent on clothing. A few nice dresses are all one needs. Not a whole wardrobe full of dresses only worn once or twice. Because, heaven forbid, someone should see you in the same dress twice at a political function.”
Clay stepped toward her voice. “One of my favorite qualities about you is your practical attitude.”
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but had no clue how many people already filled the coach. There wouldn’t be any privacy until the porter came through and made the beds. And then they’d only have a curtain between them and the rest of the occupants.
The incident on the station platform couldn’t happen again.
“Have you found our seats?” He felt like they’d walked a mile through this coach.
“We’re at the end…” Her voice trailed off.
“What’
s wrong? The end is good.” He bumped into the back of her and caught her arms to keep her from toppling forward.
“I don’t understand how we sleep? The benches are too short to accommodate your height.”
“The compartment above comes down making a bunk, and they can make the seats into a bed.” He grasped the back of the seat and settled down, patting beside him. Air and skirts rustled around him.
“But someone walking by could see…”
She sat next to him. He reached out, finding her hands clutched in her lap.
“There’s a curtain that’s pulled across. So while you aren’t seen, you can be heard.”
“Oh.”
The uttered word tinged with disappointment warmed his body as if her hands roamed his bare skin.
He kissed her cheek. “I promise not to compromise you like I did at the station.”
Noise echoed through the compartment as more people entered the coach.
“Is it nearing time to depart?”
He pulled out his watch, flipped up the cover, and fingered the hands. “It’s six-thirty. Still half an hour until the train leaves.” He listened to all the commotion behind them. “It sounds like the coach will be full.”
“I can’t believe this many people would pay the extra money to have a place to sleep. Do you think they’re traveling farther than Baker City?” Rachel swiveled in her seat. Her hips bumped against his, ricocheting images in his mind best left untouched. “One woman has her valise. Should I have kept mine?”
Clay placed a hand on her arm stilling her movements. “You’ll only be without your things for one night. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
She jostled his shoulder, and her skirts rustled as she moved and looked about. “But if this one is let down and this one makes into a bed”—she inhaled—“how do we climb up into the bunk? I don’t see any steps.”
“Don’t worry about any of that now. Sit back, watch the people board, and soon we’ll be moving.”
She leaned against his side, snuggling close. Her action and nearness didn’t surge blood to his loins but rather seeped warmth into his heart.
“We came through a sitting room on the other end.” Rachel relaxed against Clay’s wide body. Nothing had ever made her feel as safe as this man.
“This end must have the washrooms.” Clay’s fingers played with the curls at the side of her face. His hand roamed down to her neck. His warm palm against her skin sent tremors of excitement chasing through her extremities.
The coach jerked, a train whistle blasted twice, and the scene outside the window slowly rolled away. Ka-chunk, ka-chunk. The wheels of the coach spun along the track. The seat and floor vibrated. Rachel grasped Clay’s hand. They were on their way to his home.
She hadn’t said anything to Clay, but she’d secretly feared her father had telegraphed the authorities in Portland to try and stop them. Maybe this was one time when he hadn’t used his high profile career to his advantage.
“Tickets.” A man dressed in a dark blue conductor uniform stood beside their compartment, swaying with the motion of the train.
Rachel pulled the tickets out of her handbag. The man read the destination, punched a hole in each ticket, and handed them back.
“I’ll be through in an hour to make the beds,” the conductor said and moved to the compartment behind them.
“Would you like to use the washroom?” Clay whispered in her ear.
She shivered at the warm, moist air touching her sensitive lobe. “Why don’t we go together?”
Her suggestion sounded most inappropriate, but she didn’t care. She was a doctor, and his blindness offered a good reason she should escort him.
The smile deepening his dimple stopped her heart.
“You’re being brazen, woman.” He kissed her cheek and whispered, “But I like it.”
Chapter 22
Rachel stopped at the doors. “Men or women’s?”
“Men’s.” Clay smiled down at her. “A man would only think of us both being in there as a lark, a woman would get upset.”
True. Men tolerated this type of brazenness far better than most women.
She shoved open the men’s door, pulled Clay in, and slid the bar in place, locking others out. What now? She stood in the middle of the small room and scanned the interior. Beautifully carved wood accented the huge mirror. Twin washbasins sat in a polished wood counter. Brass faucets and spout hovered over the washbasins. Two small paneled doors on the end must be the toilets.
“D-do you need to use—”
Clay took a step and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her flush with his body. “You feel so good in my arms.”
Her hat bumped his shoulder. He pulled the pins from her bonnet and dropped the whole business on the floor.
“Now where was I?” Clay kissed her forehead and trailed kisses down her face.
Rachel sighed, entwining her arms around his neck and pressed into his chest. He slid his hands up her back and down to her backside, cupping her buttocks and drawing her lower body flush with his. His hardness pressed against her belly.
Her only thought—the wonder of his hands possessing her. Tremors of anticipation heated her body as he deepened the kiss, breaching her sighing lips. His tongue caressed hers, heating her blood and pulsing her pelvic region. How could his hands and tongue bring her body to such heights? It thrilled and scared her.
He ended the kiss, his forehead to hers. “I’m going too fast.”
She shook her head, unable to form words. His smug smile tipped her quivering lips into a grin.
“Sit on the counter.”
She pulled him along as she backed into the counter. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her up, moving between her legs.
Her mother would apoplexy at the wanton position, but Rachel’s body hummed with the desire to fulfill Clay’s every wish. He grasped her legs, sliding her forward. His hands roamed up her legs, pushing her skirt to her waist and exposing her genitals at the opening of her drawers. He pressed his hardness to the juncture. She gasped as a jolt sparked through her body. She clung to his broad shoulders reveling in the sensation.
His hands roamed up her side, to her front, and cupped her breasts. Air hissed from Rachel. She’d never known her breasts were so sensitive. Or was it just his touch? Clay continued massaging one breast as his other hand unfastened the buttons down the front of her dress.
She grabbed his head and drew his lips to hers. He’d taught her well. She slipped her tongue in and out, tasting and teasing as he’d tormented her at the train station.
His hand roamed over her bare skin, tingling, heating her even more. He spread the top of her dress open. She held out her arms, allowing him to push the garment down. His fingertips traced her breasts bulging above the whalebone corset, and she sucked in air. His velvety touch…heavenly.
Tipping his head, Clay kissed the swell of her breasts. Rachel moaned at the sensation of heat and moisture from his lips and tongue.
He slid the shoulders of her chemise down and pulled her breasts from the confines of the corset. Her eyelids flew open when he drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked.
“Heavens!”
Her exclamation brought a smile to the lips clasped around her nipple. He suckled and tugged. She had to touch him as he touched her. Rachel shoved his jacket down his arms. Her hands spread across his hard chest, kneading.
She unfastened buttons and splayed her fingers across his smooth skin, wiggling in the light dusting of dark curly hair.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered before cradling her head in his hands and kissing her deep.
Rachel trembled. His strong hands were so gentle, and they warmed her skin like hot summer sun. His mouth—warm, wet, and demanding—brought on the throbbing in her genital area. She squirmed, pressing against his hardness, but the ache wouldn’t go away.
His hands roamed up her thighs. His fingers brushed her, and she nearly jumped off the counter.
“Shh, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” He pulled his hand away.
She stopped his motion. “No! I’m not scared, it felt… Oh, heaven help me, it was like a bolt of lightning.” His finger touched a spot that nearly crossed her eyes. She grasped his head and kissed him deep, delving her tongue into his mouth and savoring his taste. She squirmed under his ministrations and marveled over every excruciating jolt.
When her body writhed and jumped until she thought every nerve ending was ready to pop, his finger dipped into her. Slow, in-out, in-out, deeper with each insertion, wiggling and setting off a new set of sensations.
Rachel bit down on his shoulder as a wave of tremors rocked her body. His fingers stretched her cavity, filling and exciting her. Oh heavens! He rubbed that sensitive spot, again! She clung to his head as he captured a nipple in his teeth, tugging and suckling, until—sensations ripped through her. Blinding white lights and tremors left her limbs weak and lifeless.
She slumped against Clay’s broad chest. His fingers slid from her wet center, and she registered his heavy breathing.
“Slip your undergarment and dress back up. Someone’s knocked on the door twice.” He kissed her forehead and helped her into the top half of her dress.
Clay ran water into a basin and steadied his racing heart. If not for the man wanting in here, he would have taken her the first time in a washroom. He grimaced at his lack of control.
Rachel slid off the counter. Her clothing rustled, and when he deemed she was put back together, he handed her a wet cloth and buttoned his shirt.
“Thank you.” She took the rag and kissed his cheek. “For the rag and the wonderful ride.”
A knock sounded louder.
“I think we better head back to our seats.”
Walking out of this room with him would be embarrassing for Rachel. He wouldn’t see the looks and leers, but she would. Once again he’d let his body overrule his head. “I-I hope you don’t get ridiculed for this.”
She tucked her arm in his. “Let me worry about that.
They walked to the door, a wooden slat slid, and she pushed the door open.
“Excuse me, sir, could you step back. My husband is blind, and I don’t want him tripping over you.” Rachel tugged on his arm. “Thank you.” They walked the fifteen steps to their compartment.