by Danice Allen
Spurred on by this proof of her own feminine power, she pulled her legs up and over his and eased between his thighs. She placed her hands, palms down, on his chest and bent to kiss him there, lingering over each nipple with the savoring delight of a confirmed gourmet. She liked his nipples, she decided, best of all.
Now she closed her eyes and brushed her breasts across his chest and stomach, back and forth, back and forth, rhythmically, as if she were in a trance. The wet, teasing spirals of chest hair tantalized Beth’s rigid nipples. She went lower and lower, alternately nuzzling him with her open mouth and brushing his body with her breasts. She kissed his firm stomach.
Suddenly she felt his hands tangle in her hair and heard him moan with a deep resonating shudder. It thrilled her to the core to give him so much pleasure. His hips rose slightly, and she felt his manhood press against the underside of her chin. Instinctively, wantonly, she dropped her chin and took him full in her mouth.
Alex’s hands clutched her hair, then swiftly reached down to grasp her shoulders and pull her up to face him. She was surprised and mortified. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Alex! Did I do something wrong?”
“No, my Beth,” Alex said, a ragged, constrained edge to his voice. “You did something very right, but so very unexpected that it almost finished our lovemaking on the spot.”
Beth was confused but pleased by Alex’s words of reassurance, and quite willing to wait for further explanations at a later time. Besides, Alex did not seem in the mood for an instructional conversation.
Suddenly she was on her back again, and Alex was on top of her. He reached down between her thighs and caressed the downy mound that seemed to be the center of all Beth’s most urgent yearnings. He inserted a finger and plunged deep. Beth gasped as a spasm of pleasure unfurled in her lower stomach.
“Aye, you’re ready,” Alex whispered. “As am I.”
Then Alex parted her legs and positioned himself between them. Beth drew her knees up to more fully accommodate Alex, wanting only to be as close as possible.
He entered her slowly, taking care not to hurt her. But there was no pain, no discomfort. And when he had buried himself inside her as deep as possible, they just held each other and looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Beth knew that Alex shared her thoughts, just as he shared her pleasure. Together they were complete, gratifyingly complete and fulfilled. Apart they would only be a fragment of themselves, struggling through life, forever missing that wholeness of spirit that was confirmed symbolically through their physical joining.
As he began to move inside her, Beth knew not which part of herself—the physical or the spiritual—was more thrilled and stirred. In wonder she felt her eyes fill with tears, just as they had that first night by the creek. She felt so much for this man, and no act short of a total giving of herself could adequately express the strength of her love.
The exquisite tension built as Beth met Alex’s increasingly powerful thrusts with equal force. The sunlight from the window dappled his skin, his hair. His eyes adored her, desired her, mastered her. The curve of his neck, the way he held the inside corner of his mouth between his teeth, a small birthmark on his left shoulder the color of moor bracken, were all revealed to her in the sunlight—in the pure light, where their love belonged.
Their short, harsh pants of breath commingled. Their hearts beat as one, her breasts stroked by the rhythmic motions of his chest. The tension sharpened, expanded, became all-consuming. Mindless, desperate need held her in its silken shackles, and she struggled for release. It came in a plummeting blindness, a burst of sensation that radiated from her womanly core to every fiber of her being. Her head fell back against the pillow, her neck arched, and she breathed an ecstatic benediction as her muscles shuddered and convulsed with unspeakable force.
Somewhere on the frayed edge of her consciousness she heard Alex’s responding cry of repletion. She felt him relax against her, his body falling to one side of her, but he held her fast against him, their passion-damp bodies still connected. A languorous, molasses-sweet drowsiness invaded her body, and she slept.
Chapter Fourteen
Zach rode slowly along the rough country lane, guiding his horse around the wheel ruts from farmers’ carts and over the muddy pattern of cattle tracks. Picking his way along at a snail’s pace, Zach brooded. He’d chosen to take this meandering, indirect way through the moor because he needed time to think.
During the past three weeks Zach had avoided thinking and was glad of the work that had kept him busy and exhausted, grateful at the end of day when his body embraced sleep in a kind of desperate forgetfulness. Now there was nothing for it but to think. He was going to face Tessy soon. He needed to find fitting words to ease her disappointment.
Zach smiled mirthlessly. And what of his own disappointment? His usually ebullient spirit had never felt so melancholy. He couldn’t imagine not having Tessy to go to when the irritations of life, even just the occasional boredom of it, galled him so. Her sweet, uncritical conversation calmed him, and her tender smile warmed him. Her eager, passionate lovemaking brought him the most exquisite pleasure.
The sun beat on Zach’s shoulders. He had shed his royal blue jacket and pale blue striped vest. His white shirt glared in the sunshine. He was sweaty and hot and damned unhappy, and he knew he ought to ride swiftly to do the deed, to get it over with so he could go on with his life—a life that Tessy, by the dubious fault of being too easily beloved, could not be a part of.
His mouth straightened to a grim line. His jaw lifted and hardened. He couldn’t afford to love a doxy so well. It was unnatural and inconvenient. He wanted to come and go as he pleased and not have some ridiculous surge of emotion leap out to surprise him at every unexpected opportunity, as had happened to him in the mine. Mistresses had their place, and Tessy was definitely stretching those limitations. Not purposely, he supposed. He didn’t think she had a conniving bone in her body, but she was insinuating herself into his heart to the point where it would become more and more painful to extract her from that retentive organ. Better now than later.
Zach ran his fingers through the thick hair above his ear, where the sweat collected and trickled, now and then, down his neck and inside his collar. He would have been wise to wait till the evening cool had risen from the sea and the loamy earth to settle over the moor, but impatience had seized him and fretted him till he could do naught but respond with action. Seeing Tessy and purging his life of her complicating presence seemed the most logical thing to do first. Then, on the morrow, he’d see to Beth.
Thinking of Beth brought Zach a modicum of comfort, even the beginnings of a relieved smile. In Beth there was safety and peace. His wise, fiery, generous Beth was exactly what he needed. With her he’d stumbled through childhood and green, embarrassing young adulthood when, as an unlicked cub, he’d made an ass of himself on a regular basis. She’d always forgiven him, just as she’d forgiven him for thoughtlessly endangering Gabby.
Beth was a gentlewoman, but not so prim and proper that he didn’t have hope of turning her into a passionate bed partner in due time. He knew from past flirtations with gently bred women, however, that prudery was dutifully taught to them by their mothers and therefore ran rampant among their privileged ranks. His brow furrowed. He’d never thought of Beth as a prude, but she’d been skittish lately, and he fervently hoped that such behavior wasn’t a sign of things to come. Certainly Tessy wasn’t a prude, but he supposed that mistresses were immune to that genteel condition called frigidity.
He skirted town and came to the edge of Tessy’s property—really his property. But he was going to give her the cottage and a substantial amount of money, at least enough to take care of her needs till another parti came along to protect her. Zach’s insides tossed and twisted, like a sapling in a storm, at the thought of another man touching his Tess. But having someone to look after her would be better than going back to work for that harridan, Mrs. Turley.
Tess would manage ver
y well, he told himself. Probably she would suffer less than he would at the ending of their relationship. Indeed, her sort were taught to make the best of their opportunities, weren’t they? She’d done well by him. She was getting a permanent place to live, or a property to sell if she chose to. And he’d been good to her. Hell, he was going to miss her.
Zach took his horse to the stable, tethered him next to Tessy’s white mare, watered him, then walked toward the kitchen door, which was his usual passage of entry into the house. He expected Tessy’s gaggle of geese and chickens to announce his arrival, but even they seemed stupefied by the heat; not a hiss or a cackle issued forth from the coop.
He stopped suddenly, deciding to make his visit more formal and thereby set the mood from the beginning of a business relationship being officially terminated. He would go to the front door. His vest and jacket were properly back in place, the added clothing, though quite hot and uncomfortable, serving as more armor in the battle against his own natural inclinations.
He walked through the gate, along the cobbled walkway that snaked through the delightful snarl of flowers and herb plants, grass-green cucumbers shining in the sun and … honeysuckle. Honeysuckle everywhere, most beautifully arranged in the trellised arbor that arched over the front door. Honeysuckle would make him think of Tessy, he supposed, even to the grave. The sweet, romantic fragrance would always bring him a pang, a tiny portion of the pain and dread that were building in him now. But it must be.
There was no knocker, so he rapped softly with his knuckles. He waited for a few minutes, then reached for the doorknob, an absurd notion having entered his head that she might not be alone. He thought he detected muffled voices, but told himself she could be talking to her cat or to herself. She’d admitted once in a shy voice that she did such things out of loneliness. Perhaps he’d left Tessy alone too much. Perhaps in this way he hadn’t been so good to her after all. He felt a surge of remorse.
The door was locked. Loneliness made people do uncharacteristic things, things they’d never do if they’d had the pleasure of congenial company. He wondered if Tessy had been driven to seek comfort elsewhere, to betray him with another man. He knocked hard on the door with a closed fist. It was confusing to feel so much wrenching jealousy for a woman he was about to willingly set free of all her obligations to him.
Finally Tessy opened the door. His gaze was riveted to her face. His heart flip-flopped most alarmingly. He’d forgotten how blue her eyes were and how good they made him feel when they rested on him so lovingly, as they did now. Obviously there was no other man with her.
“Zach! Oh, how glad I am at the sight of you!” She threw the door wide, as wide as the smile that stretched her rose-tinted lips. She’d been pale and wan when she opened the door, but now her cheeks bloomed with color. Zach viciously suppressed his urge to kiss her. He stiffened his back—indeed, his whole demeanor stiffened—and smiled with polite vacuity. “Hello, Tessy,” he said. Then he walked in and moved to a reed-backed rocker by the fireplace and sat down.
Tessy stood, irresolute, at the door. He was sure she felt awkward, since he had not responded to her happy greeting in his usual style, with a kiss and an embrace. There had even been times when upon his arrival he’d swept her off her feet and taken her directly to bed, conversation postponed till the glowing aftermath of their lovemaking. The Lord knew he wanted to sweep her up right now and make love to her with all the pent-up fervor of three weeks’ absence and the wretched awareness of their permanent separation coming up. But that would not have been fair.
She was dressed in a cream-colored muslin gown, loose-fitting and flowing about her feet. She wore a lace shawl, too, very pretty but an odd vanity on such a steamy day.
She closed the door and walked timidly toward him, her eyes fixed nervously to the floor. She sat down in a chair opposite him, the very chair they’d made love in a few weeks ago. He forced the image of the two of them together on that chair to the furthest corner of his brain.
“Would you like some tea, Zach?”
“Lord, no, Tessy. It’s too hot for tea.”
Her head bobbed up, then down again. Her fingers twined and untwined; she clasped and unclasped her hands in her lap. “You’re right. How stupid of me. Would you like a drink of water?”
Zach sighed. Already he was hurting her. “Yes, love. That would be refreshing.”
Tessy stood up quickly, as if grateful to busy herself, to leave the room to play hostess in lieu of facing her out-of-sorts lover. But she’d apparently risen too fast. On her way to the kitchen she stopped and steadied herself against the wall with an outstretched hand.
“Tessy, are you all right?” He half stood, surprised and concerned.
She straightened immediately and flashed him a beaming smile. “Of course I am. It’s just too hot for me.”
He sat back down. “Then why don’t you take off that shawl?”
She responded to this suggestion by pulling the lacy thing more securely about her. “I just got back from town. I hadn’t thought to take it off yet. I’ll be back in a moment.” Then she disappeared into the kitchen.
Zach tried to relax by rocking to and fro, the creak of wood punctuating the silence with a soft and intermittent squeak-squeak. He looked about for the cat, lest he rock on the lazy feline’s outstretched tail. Tom was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the room had an eerie stillness that unsettled him. He was probably missing it already. He scanned the room, trying to memorize every detail, like a bereaved man staring into an open coffin at the face of his departed loved one. So sad, so dismal, this leave-taking.
Tessy returned, wearing a voluminous apron and carrying a tray on which sat two glasses of water and a plate of biscuits. He wondered that she thought it necessary to don the apron for so simple a task as conveying refreshments into the room that served as parlor and bedchamber. Perhaps she was responding to his own formality with corresponding decorousness.
She pulled a small serving table between them and set the tray down on it, then pulled her own chair nearer. They reached for their glasses at the same moment, and the backs of their hands brushed. Both pairs of eyes flew up to collide like Indian rubber balls, then bounced away, revealing distress, embarrassment … arousal. God, how he wanted her.
His hand shook as he took a sip of water, but he willed it to stop. He set down the glass and leaned back in the chair. “Tessy, you must know that I’m here today for a particular reason.”
He thought he saw her tremble, as though a sudden spasm of fear had coursed through her. “What can you mean, Zach?”
He hardened his heart, his resolve, and his voice. Somehow he had to get through this. “Surely you’ve noticed that I haven’t kissed you. I’ve been distant. All of this is for a reason.”
She did not respond. Her features seemed cut from fine bone china, immobile, unspeakably fragile.
“I’ve decided to sever our relationship, you see.”
Still Tess said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the table and all its accoutrements—the glasses of water, the biscuits, and two gaily flowered, bright yellow serviettes.
“You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”
After a long pause Tessy nodded her head.
Zach hated this mute acquiescence. It seemed unnatural and somehow frightening. He wished she would upbraid him passionately, beat him on the chest with her fists, or cry, giving him an excuse to shout back his own defense, allow her to pummel him till she felt better, or comfort her by telling her of his generous parting gifts and of how very fondly he would remember their time together. Wasn’t that how the severing of this sort of liaison was handled? In his heart, however, none of this seemed true or natural or right.
“You knew from the beginning that this wouldn’t last,” he began, feeling the need to explain, wanting her to understand, wishing to be reasonable. “It was our agreement, plainly set out from the start. Now that I’m marrying Beth, I don’t …”
Suddenly she
lifted her head. Her eyes, so intensely blue before, had dimmed to a dull gray, like a blanket of somber clouds snuffing out a sunny sky. “You told me it wouldn’t make any difference when you married Beth,” she said softly, earnestly. She bowed her head again. “But I suppose you have the right to change your mind.”
“Yes, I do. But it has nothing to do with you, Tessy,” he added honestly. “You’ve been … wonderful.” He dared not tell her she’d been too wonderful, so wonderful that he thought obsessively of her and was afraid of doing something quite foolish if he continued to visit her.
He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a bulging purse. He dropped it on the table, the heavy chink of coins sounding vulgar, degrading. He saw Tess wince. “I’ve made provisions for your security. I’m giving you the cottage and enough money to keep you going till …”
She lifted her head again. This time her eyes reflected hurt and shame. “Till what, Zach? Till someone else takes me as his whore?”
This time Zach winced. “Tessy …”
In a quiet voice she continued. “Won’t it displease you even a little that I’ll be in someone else’s arms? You’re the only man I’ve ever known.”
Zach rubbed his eyes with the thumb and ring finger of one hand. Hell, yes, it displeased him mightily to imagine her in another man’s arms. But he could not admit such a thing. “I knew you were a virgin. But you knew what you were about when you took up with me. And I assumed that when we’d had our time together, you’d find someone else.”
Tessy looked thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose I assumed the same thing. My mother told me I’d find my fortune in my beauty,” she added with candid unself-consciousness. “But somehow I never imagined that I’d feel the way I do about you, Zach.” She paused, trying to find the words to sum up her feelings. She shrugged her shoulders and said simply, “I love you. I feel as though I belong to you. I don’t know if I can ever let another man touch me as long as I live.”