Dorothy Garlock - [Annie Lash 01]

by Wild Sweet Wilderness

  This has to be love, Berry thought with a sense of desperation. This isn’t the animal coupling of male and female. She caressed his back, his shoulders, his buttocks. She rose to meet him, held him, and with every touch tried desperately to convey all the love she had for him.

  They bathed again, dried each other’s bodies, and dressed. Darkness was beginning to fall as they walked arm in arm back to the cabin.

  “Will we go to Fain’s tomorrow?”

  “I think we should. Rachel was worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean for her to worry.”

  They reached the door of the darkened cabin and Berry stepped up on the doorstone, turned, and put her arms around his neck. Their faces were on a level and she kissed his nose before setting her lips against his.

  “Rachel was the only person I ever loved or even cared about after my mother died. Then I met you. I love you, Simon.”

  “You do, huh?” His arms tightened around her.

  “Yes, I do!” she said stoutly. “You love me, too. Someday you’ll shout it! It’ll just come boiling out of you!”

  He lifted her and swung her around before he set her back down on the doorstone. “You’d better fix that mush,” he said with a trace of huskiness. “I’ve got to keep up my strength if I’m going to be doin’ all this lovin’.”

  “Simon! You’re a . . . horny toad!” She giggled helplessly, bit his neck, and danced away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Worry and dread had lain like a rock in the pit of Rachel’s stomach since the morning they discovered Berry had left the homestead and Eben had been brutally murdered in his shack by the river. It had sapped her strength and controlled her thoughts, yet it had given energy to her hands. She had chinked the walls of the new room from ceiling to floor with river mud, made the hominy Fain was so fond of, ground corn, and made soap. In spite of protest from Fain, she chopped enough kindling to last for weeks.

  She managed to stumble through the days, filling them with hard labor, trying to keep from her mind the nagging fear that she might never see Berry again. After a week, the shock of Berry’s leaving had worn off to some extent. Rachel now feared that Simon would come riding in without her. As long as he was away, there was hope. Thank God for Simon and Fain.

  “Faith’s sleepin’.” Fain’s voice jarred into her thoughts.

  She pushed her hair from her face with the back of her hand. It had become a nightly routine for him to rock the baby while she cleaned up after the evening meal. The sight of him holding her child always made her heart lurch. What made some men so full of goodness, she wondered, and others so rotten?

  “I’ll put her to bed.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Rachel smoothed the sheet over the mattress in the cradle and Fain laid the baby down, turned her over on her stomach, and drew a light cover over her. His big hand gently stroked the head of the sleeping child. Tears started in Rachel’s eyes and she turned away.

  Fain carried the cradle to the sleeping room and Rachel followed with the candle. She sat it on the table beside the bed and pulled the pins from her hair.

  “Let me do that.” Fain was behind her, his hands gently pushing hers away so that he could complete the task. His fingers combed through the heavy strands until they hung like a curtain to her waist. Then he pulled her back against him and placed loving kisses along the side of her face.

  In an agony of need, she turned and flung her arms around him, blindly seeking comfort. Strong arms wrapped around her, and her face found refuge in the hollow beneath his chin. A fountain of tears erupted and she cried with the pathetic urgency of a small child.

  He held her snuggled against him, rocking her in his arms and stroking her hair. “There, there, darlin’. It’s been a tryin’ time. It purely has. But Simon’ll find her. Shhhh . . . Don’t carry on so. . . .”

  Fain sat on the edge of the new double bed he’d made this past week in order to be near her. He had strung the frame with heavy rope, and he and Olson, the freighter Simon had left behind, had cut fresh, sweet grass to lay over them. He had promised Rachel that before the snow fell they would have enough hides to make a mattress and enough feathers to fill it.

  When it seemed she had cried herself dry, Rachel found herself cuddled on his lap. She felt weak, as if her tears had washed away her strength.

  “I don’t know what got into me.” She almost choked on the words.

  “You’re just ’bout wore out, that’s what.” Fain’s lips were against her ear. “You’re not strong, ya cain’t be doin’ all this hard work ’n’ hold up. Ya got to slow down or ya’ll get sick.”

  “I’m sorry for cryin’.” She reached for the hem of her skirt so she could wipe her eyes and nose.

  Fain pressed her head back down onto his shoulder and held it there. “Ya’ve put up with more’n a woman ought to, darlin’. Ya don’t have to be a bit sorry for cryin’, ’n’ ya don’t have to put up with nothin’ by yourself no more. Ya got me now.” The words were muffled in her hair. His hand traveled down her back, soothing, caressing. A strange, relaxing warmth spread through her.

  “Ahhh . . . Fain! I never dreamed there were men like you.” She burrowed deeper in his arms. “I can stand all the trouble in the world as long as you’re with me.”

  Fain’s gaze wandered over her upturned face, then he found her eyes and held them. They were teary bright, but full of love for him. His arms tightened and he slowly lowered his lips to hers. He kissed her mouth and her wet cheeks. His hand stroked her in a comforting gesture. The softness of her body, the warm flush of her skin, and the soft sweetness of her mouth caused his maleness to stir against the soft hips on his lap. This woman and her child had made an enormous difference in his life. They had made this spot in the wilderness a home. He loved her with every breath and would spend his life keeping her safe and happy.

  Rachel closed her eyes and lifted trembling lips to meet his suddenly greedy ones. He kissed her face, her ears, her throat, his lips and tongue making her mouth his own. She heard his harsh breathing in her ear and the hoarsely whispered words of love.

  “Darlin’ lass. Sweet, darlin’ lass, I’d take away the hurt ’n’ worry ’n’ ya’d never shed another tear, if’n I could. I’d go look for Berry, but I can’t leave ya here with only Olson and Israel to protect ya.” Muttered words of love fell from his lips as he pressed feverish kisses along the soft skin of her throat.

  “I know you can’t go. I keep thinking Lardy will come back and tell us that he’s found Light.”

  “And he might. He might come in the mornin’.” He pushed the damp hair back from her face and his heart swelled. He had not dared to hope, to dream, that he might find a woman like this. “Get outta that dress ’n’ get in bed,” he whispered. “I’ll take a look ’round ’n’ be back for some of our special lovin’.” He lifted her off his lap and stood up. Their eyes locked. Slowly he pulled her to him and his mouth possessed hers with insistent pressure.

  Rachel undressed and slipped into bed. She left her hair loose, because Fain liked it that way. Every day she looked forward to this special time they spent together before falling asleep. She had been shy with him at first, but now she felt free to caress and love him in any way that pleased her. He had made her realize it was natural and right.

  Fain came back into the room and stooped over the cradle to drop a kiss on the infant’s head. He was bare chested, and Rachel knew he had been to the wash basin for his nightly wash. He pinched out the candle, finished undressing, and slipped into bed beside her. They both sighed and reached for each other. Rachel’s hand slid around to the corded muscles of his back, trying to pull him closer. Even after sleeping with him for several weeks, she was still shattered by the sheer pleasure of lying naked beside him. Free of her fumbling uncertainty, she reached out to explore and caress his warm, hard body, letting her fingertips find his masculine nipples and follow the line of fine gold hair down to his taut, f
lat stomach and beyond. She felt the tremor that always shook him when her hand boldly sought and found the rock-hard organ that he pressed against her. Her hands on his body were like a torch being added to his already flaming desire.

  “Ah, sweet lass. Ah . . . sweet, soft woman of mine! I love ya. Truly I do. You’re the sweetness of my life. I’m glad I found ya.” His voice was husky and rawly disturbed.

  Rachel loved the words of love he whispered during their most intimate moments. She placed her lips to his ear. “So am I, my darlin’. Oh, so am I!”

  He kissed her long and leisurely before moving his lips to her ear. “You’re workin’ too hard, darlin’.” He caressed her from shoulder to knee. “I can feel the sharp edge of your hip bone,” he chided lovingly. “I don’t want ya to work yourself down to a nubbin. Save yourself for me.” His tone was anxious.

  “Fain, my love, you’ll always come first with me. Faith takes my time now while she’s a babe, but someday she’ll be grown up and will leave us. You and I will be together for as long as we live.”

  She wound her fingers in his hair and gave a slow tug, pulling his head to her parted lips. His mouth was on hers, open and caressing, and hers answered it. Her hands were on him, eager and possessive She thought she was going to die of wanting when his hand moved up between her thighs in a gentle stroking motion, causing her to flinch.

  “Ya want me now, my love? You’re so warm, so wet. I don’t wanta take ya till you’re ready, my sweet lass . . .” he whispered and held himself rigidly over her.

  “Yes, yes . . .” She gasped and arched herself against him. Her body opened to him, needing him above all other things, welcoming the solid length of his maleness as if it were a part of her.

  Rachel was made to know all the power and need of this big, gentle man she had come to love so passionately. His hands closed over her buttocks and held them while he pressed into her. She felt the thunderous beat of his heart against her naked breast and heard his hoarse, ragged breathing in her ear. He moved slowly at first, as if she were a delicate, precious flower he feared to crush. Then as wild, flooding pleasure shot through her and she became more persistent, he moved faster and faster.

  Rachel yielded to pure feeling, blocking out everything but this. She whispered his name, her fingers biting into his skin, her hips arching to meet his thrusts and take him deep, frenziedly seeking the release she knew was coming.

  “My darlin’, my darlin’, my sweetness, my love . . .” He whispered the love words. The hammering urge to release his passion was acute, but he waited, holding back until he felt the first tremor deep inside her. Then he was free to plunge, to rise, to let go. And he did.

  An explosion of ecstasy swept them away from the physical world.

  An eternity later, he raised his head to kiss her lips, her nose, her neck, to lick her cheeks with joyous frenzy. He leaned on his forearms to take some of his weight off her body, yet he remained buried deep inside her.

  “My purty girl . . .” He burrowed his face in her hair and waited for his galloping heart to slow to its regular beat. “I’m too heavy for ya,” he whispered worriedly. He lifted himself out of her and rolled onto his side. The strong ropes beneath them squeaked in protest as he turned into the grass mattress that cradled them. He put his hand on her hair, feeling its soft, silky texture. It enshrouded his face, caressed his shoulders. “Oh, sweet lass . . . I couldn’t live without ya now.”

  He lay holding her, arms wrapped around her. She fit so perfectly in the nest made by his arms and muscular thighs. She lay warm and soft and infinitely dear against him. Thoughts swarmed his mind. Someday he hoped to make her understand how she had wrapped her sweetness into the very core of his being. She had penetrated his heart with her gentle ways as not even his first love had done. It frightened him. What if he should lose her? She could be killed as Eben had been killed . . . she could die in childbirth . . . even now his seed could have found her fertile valley and she could be growing his child.

  Rachel gave a tired little sigh and closed her eyes in sweet exhaustion. “Tomorrow I’ll do the washin’ if it don’t rain,” she murmured and fell into deep sleep.

  * * *

  The sky was alight with a new day when Fain carried the last bucket of water from the spring and poured it into the big iron pot he had hung from a stout pole. Israel had built a fire beneath it and was now bringing the wooden washtub from the shed. A bench, newly made, stood against the wall of the cabin. Rachel had been amazed when she first saw the huge wooden tub. She had expected to lift the clothes from the boiling water, lay them on a smooth half-log, and beat them clean with a paddle as she had always done. Fain had explained that Simon had transported the tub all the way up from New Orleans so that they would be able to bathe in the wintertime. Now it would serve a double purpose.

  By the time Faith had been fed and put back to sleep, the breakfast things had been put away, and the meat with cabbage and onions for the noon meal had begun to simmer, the water boiling in the iron pot. Fain carried Faith and the cradle out into the yard. He placed the baby in the shade near where Rachel was working.

  Israel came over and hunkered down to look at the babe. A huge smile split his face. Fain lingered beside the cradle, gently stroking the tiny blond head with his fingertips.

  “She’s a-growin’, Mistah Fain. She sho is.”

  “She’s a beaut—that’s what she is,” Fain said with affection. “She knows her pa, too. She c’n be a-whinin’ ’n’ frettin’ ’n’ if I pick her up she hushes up ’n’ goes to sleep.”

  “Babes know somethin’ like that when they’s so little?” Israel asked.

  “This one does,” Fain said proudly. “Look a-there at her hands. Rachel had to cut her fingernails already ’cause she was scratchin’ her face.”

  “They’s mighty little.”

  Rachel turned her back and punched the clothes down into the boiling water so that Fain and Israel wouldn’t see her smile. Love for her husband flooded her heart. She pressed her face to his shirt before dropping it into the suds.

  Olson came across the yard, his rifle in his hand. He gave her a friendly wave and walked toward the river. Rachel sensed that the men were more concerned about Eben’s murder than they let on to her.

  “Me ’n’ Israel are goin’ to dig us a cellar. Where’d’ya want it?” Fain came up behind her and nuzzled her neck.

  “Oh . . . you scared me, Fain!” She lifted her shoulder, giving his face a brief hug between it and her cheek. “A cellar? Goodness! Are you sure you want to work on it now? I thought you were anxious to work on your guns.”

  “I got all winter to work on the guns. If’n my woman wants a cellar—I’ll dig her one.”

  “You’ll not get it done this summer if you don’t quit huggin’ me, and I’ll not get the washin’ done either,” she chided, but turned her face for his kiss, not knowing or caring if Israel was watching. “You’re a-spoilin’ me,” she cautioned.

  “Whatta ya think about next to the house there?” He turned her so that she could see where he was pointing. “It’d be handy. We could get into it from the outside, and we c’n put a trap door in our sleepin’ room. We could get in if a cyclone come.”

  “I can’t think of a better place. We can keep the milk and garden stuff down there where it’s cool.”

  “It’s settled, then?”

  “It’s settled. Now, Fain . . .” He was nuzzling her neck again. “I’ve got to get the washin’ done before Faith wakes up,” she protested lovingly.

  “I cain’t get enough of ya. I think I’ll carry ya off to the woods,” he teased, and his fingers worked at the front of her dress while his eyes twinkled at her. He waited until she smiled. “That’s what I wanted—a big smile on my woman’s face.” He patted her on the backside and left her.

  When the washing was done and spread out on the bushes in the full sun, Rachel took her suds into the eating room and scrubbed the floor and everything in it, including the thic
k fireplace mantel, the work shelf, and the big trestle table. When she finished, the room was soap-smelling clean. She poured out the water well away from the cabin so that the men wouldn’t track mud onto her clean floor. It was still an hour before noon, so she sat in the rocker with her knitting needles and the wool she’d unraveled from an old shawl. Fain had gaping holes in his socks and she had vowed to knit him a pair as soon as possible.

  * * *

  Fain heaved himself up and out of the hole he and Israel were digging. It was hot, hard work, but he welcomed it. It gave him a chance to think of other things while putting his foot on the spade and sinking it into the ground.

  It had been a week since Simon had left to look for Berry. Lardy should have been back days ago, if only to report that Light was not in the area. Fain was puzzled about not hearing from him. He was worried about Berry and about Simon, who should have been back by now unless he was trailing Berry deep into the wilderness. He’d heard of roving bands of Indians who stole women for slaves; the women had disappeared, never to be heard from again. How would Rachel bear the uncertainty of not knowing if Berry was dead or alive? He tried to push the thought aside and concentrate on the problem at hand.

  “Pound out that broken handle on the shovel, Israel. I’ve got another in the shed. I’ll fetch it. I always used ash for helves, but Simon told me hickory had more stayin’ power. I made up some last winter when I had time on my hands. We’ll give ’em a try.”

  Fain watched Israel walk toward the shed. He knew that the slave had been mighty shaken up about Eben’s murder. The two men had become friends, not only because of their color but because of Eben’s compassionate nature. He had taken Israel in tow, and in just a few short weeks Fain had seen a world of difference in the man: he became more confident and lost much of his hangdog look. But in the past week he’d reverted to his former cowed, frightened attitude. The words he had spoken this morning when he stood over the cradle and looked at Faith were the first he had volunteered in a week.