Gettin’ Merry

by CATHY L. CLAMP; FRANCIS RAY; BEVERLY JENKINS; MONICA JACKSON; GERI GUILLAUME

  He removed the rest of her clothing with a sureness that made her sensitive body continue to sing. Leaving her nothing to wear but the ribbon and the cameo, he kissed her from her lips to her navel, including all the parts in between. While he withdrew for a moment to remove his own clothes, Lydia preened atop the soft flannel sheet.

  Lydia had never seen a naked man before. Gray was a glorious sight to behold. His dark muscular frame gleamed in the firelight. The part of his anatomy that would make her a woman drew her eyes especially. She looked from that up to his mustached face. She raised herself to her knees and rested her weight back on her heels. In a voice as quiet as the room, she asked, “May I touch you?”

  He was standing beside the bed. “Be my guest.”

  Emboldened, Lydia closed her hand around him and was pleasantly surprised by how warm and alive he felt. “I’ve never touched a man before.”

  “I’m glad your first time was with me.”

  She looked up and smiled shyly. “So am I.” He felt like velvet-covered iron in her hand. “Tell me what to do.”

  Gray obliged, but her hot little hands were so good and so brazen, he quickly found himself on the verge of what the French called la petite morte, or the little death, so he growled and backed away.

  Lydia was concerned. “Did I do something wrong?”

  His mustache twitched with amusement. “No, but if I let you continue I’ll have nothing left for the main event.” He crawled onto the bed, then kissed her mouth. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  As it turned out, they were both more than ready. After a few silent moments of arousing kisses, thrilling touches, and caresses that made each of them arch and strain for more, Gray entered her slowly. The pace was not easy to maintain. He was on fire for her and wanted nothing more than to surge home and stroke her until sunrise, but she was a virgin and Gray was no brute. “This may hurt, darlin’.”

  Lydia knew that, but for the moment her body was more than willing to accept his claiming. He filled her little by little, easing in and out, keeping her body hot and her core flowing. Then, just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he breached her barrier and suddenly—pain. She tensed and he offered soft kisses and even softer apologies. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. . . . This will be the only time it will hurt.”

  Lydia found herself not wanting to do this anymore. “Gray . . .”

  He sensed her distress and whispered, “Give your body a few moments to adjust. If you want to stop, we will.” Lord knew he didn’t want that, but it would be her choice.

  “Is there a pony soldier remedy?”

  He grinned. Was it any wonder he loved her? “It may take a few moments to work, but I think I know what might help.”

  “Then fix me, please.”

  So he began to stroke her gently, gingerly, teaching her yet another rhythm in hopes of showing her just how powerful lovemaking can be.

  For the first few moments Lydia felt only a fiery invasion, but as he began to work her slowly, the pleasure returned. “Oh, better,” she murmured in pleased tones. “Much better. . . .”

  It was music to Gray’s ears. She was now rising and falling in tandem with him, meeting him stroke for slow stroke, running her hands up and down his arms, even as she purred lustily. He was doing his best to hold back, but she was too tight, too responsive. All the sensual play leading up to this moment, coupled with the joy of being with her again, was more than any man was expected to carry, and it fueled him to increase his pace. He wanted her to know how much he loved her; wanted her to feel how much.

  Lydia had no more pain. Bliss had overridden it. His hands on her nipples were bliss. The deep, soul-thrilling strokes were bliss. When he increased the pace, she went with him willingly, rising and falling under his lusty direction. The powerful strokes were compelling, breathtaking, and so overwhelmingly wonderful that a few splendid moments later her entire being exploded and she was flung into a thousand brilliant pieces.

  Gray felt the sensual contractions of her climaxing flesh and he couldn’t hold out any longer. His release rose. Throwing back his head, he surrendered with a roar that echoed loudly around the room.

  In the quiet aftermath, Gray and Lydia lay cuddled together. The crackling of the fire was the only sound until Lydia said softly, “Thank you, Gray.”

  He kissed the top of her mussed hair. “No. Thank you.”

  She asked playfully, “Was it worth a fifteen-year wait?”

  He ran a slow finger around one of her nipples. “Most definitely, but I don’t want to wait another fifteen to do it again. Marry me.”

  Lydia stilled.

  He turned over so he could see her face in the dark. “Marry me and we can love until we’re both old and gray.”

  Parts of Lydia were jumping with glee at the prospect, but she set them aside. “That isn’t why I wanted this night, Gray.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  She searched his face in the shadows. “You know I’m going to say no.”

  “I’d considered that.” He hadn’t really, because the idea to propose had just come to him.

  “But—” she said.

  Gray had forgotten how well she once knew him. “But I’ve decided I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  She chuckled softly. “Arrogant as ever.”

  “And you’re stubborn as ever. Give me one good reason why you can’t marry me.”

  Lydia chose not to voice her main reason because it was too painful to admit. Instead she offered, “How about my school and the students who will expect me to return after the holidays?”

  “I’m not asking you to give up your school.”

  “Then you are willing to move to Chicago? Running a school is a twenty-four-hour-a-day undertaking.”

  Admittedly Gray had no intentions of moving to Chicago. “There are trains, you know.”

  Lydia remained silent.

  “Give me another.”

  “You said one,” she reminded him in an amused voice.

  “That one wasn’t good enough.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “How about, I don’t need a man to take care of me?”

  “Economically, you are correct, but physically, that’s another story.” He kissed her to prove his point, leaving her breathless and dazed as she asked, “Are all men so conceited?”

  “Just us transplanted Texans.”

  As much as Lydia wanted a repeat of his loving, she sat up instead, saying quietly, “I should be getting home. Mama’s probably worrying.”

  “What are you running from, Lydia?”

  She’d forgotten how well he once knew her. “From you, Gray.”

  Her truthfulness had always been one of her stronger traits. “Why?”

  “So that I won’t say yes to your proposal.”

  He stroked the satin skin of her back. “I want to marry you, Lydia.”

  “I know, but it isn’t a good idea.”

  As much as it pained her to do so, Lydia slipped from the bed. “Is there someplace I . . . can wash?”

  “Yes, through that door.”

  She supposed she should be embarrassed by her nudity, but she wasn’t. If anything, the intensity of his gaze filled her with a newborn sense of feminine power. “I had a good time, Gray.”

  He nodded, wanting her to stay, but she disappeared into the bathing room.

  It was a bit past midnight by the time they started out. Lydia sat beside him on the seat of the sleigh. She was huddled beneath the buffalo hide trying to convince herself that turning down Gray’s proposal continued to be a sound decision. Nothing more had been said about her refusal, but she knew Gray well enough to realize that the discussion would probably be revisited; she just had to keep saying no—even if she didn’t want to.

  Gray was determined to change her mind. It was plain she hadn’t offered up the real reason behind her refusal, and it irked him that with the holidays looming he didn’t have much time to ferret out the
truth. Now that he’d found her again and had made love to her, he didn’t want to lose her again. He wanted her by his side as his wife, companion, and lover for the rest of their lives. He sensed that she wanted the same, but something haunting her was holding her back.

  When he pulled the horses to a halt in front of her mother’s cottage, Lydia sighed. The night was over. In the morning, she would wake up and life would go on as before. She’d been changed, though. The knowledge of Eve was now her own, and no matter how much she wanted to return to the paradise she and Gray had created, Lydia knew she was destined to walk the rest of her life’s journey alone. Leaning over, she kissed him softly, then whispered, “Thank you. I must go.”

  And though Gray wanted to prevent her flight, he did not. With emotionless eyes, he watched her hurry up the walk and go inside.

  The next morning was Sunday, and Lydia and Miriam went to church. Lydia knew a house of worship was not the place to be dwelling on Gray’s lovemaking talents, but remnants of the glow remained, making it hard for her to concentrate on the reverend’s fiery sermon. It didn’t help to know that Gray had come to church this morning as well and was seated at his mother’s side. He’d met Lydia’s eyes upon entering, making every caress he’d given to her last night float back with vivid detail. The only saving grace was that he was seated across the aisle, though the distance did little to dampen her senses to the powerful call of his presence.

  After church, Lydia was greeted warmly by the folks she’d grown up with, the church ladies, parents of her old friends, and Mrs. Dane. Elizabeth gave her a strong, loving hug. “Oh, Lydia. It is such a joy to see you again.”

  Lydia returned the embrace just as strongly. “Hello, Mrs. Dane. It’s good to see you as well.”

  Gray was standing beside his mother, but Lydia ignored him for the moment—or at least attempted to.

  Mrs. Dane stepped back and said, “Gray says you’re leaving again after the New Year?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And that you’re a teacher?”

  “I am.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’ll bet your students love you.”

  Lydia chuckled, “It depends on how much work I’ve assigned.”

  Mrs. Dane smiled. “You’ve grown into such a beauty. Hasn’t she, Gray?”

  Gray didn’t lie. “Yes, she has.”

  Lydia’s eyes moved to his. The heat she saw reflected in them made her hastily look away.

  Mrs. Dane said, “I must be going, but if you find the time, please stop by so we can visit. I’d love to hear more.”

  “I will if I can.”

  Mrs. Dane gave her another strong hug. “Welcome home, Lydia.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia replied genuinely.

  Then Mrs. Dane and her son departed.

  Just as Miriam promised, Dr. Watson Miller came to dinner that evening. He’d missed church this morning because one of the neighbors had suddenly taken ill. Miriam was obviously glad to see him. She presented him to her daughter: “Lydia. You remember Dr. Miller?”

  Lydia did. The love in his eyes when he looked upon her mother’s face told Lydia all she needed to know about the depth of his feelings. “I do. Hello, Dr. Miller.”

  “Hello, Lydia. Look at you. You’re all grown up.”

  Lydia acknowledged him almost shyly. “Yes, I am. How are you, sir?”

  “Just fine. You?”

  “I’m well. I hear you want to marry my mother.”

  “I do. Very much.”

  “Then let me be the first to offer my congratulations.”

  He smiled beneath his thin graying mustache. “Thanks. Took me a long time to get her to say yes, but when she did, she made me the happiest man in the world.” He slipped his arm around her mother’s trim waist and eased her in against his side.

  Miriam beamed. “How about we eat?”

  Dr. Miller helped her mother with her chair at the table and in the process of doing so whispered something in Miriam’s ear that made her giggle like a schoolgirl. Lydia couldn’t hear what transpired, of course, but the sight of her mother’s happiness touched Lydia’s heart and made her smile. It also made Gray’s face rise in her mind and what the two of them might have had together, had life turned out differently.

  Gray sat across the table from his mother. The food on his plate lay untouched because he wasn’t hungry.

  His mother noticed the still-full plate. “Gray dear, are you ill?”

  Her voice broke through his brooding. “No. Well, not in the real sense. I asked Lydia to marry me last night, but she turned me down.”

  “Then I take it matters between you have been smoothed out.”

  He thought of how passionate Lydia had been in his bed last night. “To a point, yes.”

  “Did she give you a reason why she said no?”

  “She did. She talked about not wanting to leave her school and such. I sense there is something else at play, but she refuses to tell me what it is.”

  Mrs. Dane said then, “The fact that you two have reconciled is heartening. I loved Lydia very much.”

  “I know, Mother. I did as well.”

  “But is wanting to marry her truly in your heart, Gray, or are you simply trying to make up for the past?”

  “Both. I still love her. Marrying her and showing her just how much I do will make up for the past.”

  Mrs. Dane studied her only son. “Well, you know I wish you luck. I would love to have Lydia as the mother of my grandchildren, even now.”

  “She’s barren, Mother.”

  Mrs. Dane studied him.

  “She took ill while in Chicago, so there will be no grandchildren if we marry. I’m sorry. Had she not left town to escape the scandal she would not have gotten ill. That, too, is my doing.”

  His mother placed a sympathetic hand atop his. “You don’t know that for truth, Gray. Please don’t fault yourself.”

  “She wanted children. We wanted children. Now—”

  “Now, there will be none, but I love her no less.”

  He placed his hand atop his mother’s. “You have always stood by me, no matter the price.”

  “You are my only child. My son. I will stand with you until my last breath.”

  He squeezed her hand emotionally. “Thank you.” He then asked, “Am I wrong in continuing to pursue Lydia?”

  “What does your heart say?”

  He smiled. “To find out her real reason for turning me down.”

  “Then that’s what you should do.”

  “If I marry her, there will be no one to inherit all you and Father worked to build when I am gone.”

  “Does that matter to you?” his mother asked.

  “No. I want Lydia for herself. Not for her childbearing potential.”

  “Have you told her this?”

  “The discussion never progressed that far.”

  “It could be that that is what is plaguing her.”

  Gray thought on that for a moment. “Surely she knows that wouldn’t matter to me. It can’t be something so simple.”

  “Not being able to bear children for the man you love is not a simple matter, Gray.”

  He was instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean to sound so flippant, but I don’t care whether she can bear children or not. I want her for my wife.”

  “Well, if the love you two had is still there, I’m sure you will find a way to resolve whatever the issue may be.”

  Gray sincerely hoped she was right.

  Chapter 8

  Christmas Day was fast approaching. The church choir had been rehearsing since last week for the Christmas Day service, and the residents of Sumpter were putting the last touches on gift making, holiday baking, and planning for the arrival of family and friends. Lydia and Miriam’s holidays had traditionally been quiet ones, even when Lydia was young. This year her mother would be getting married and Lydia couldn’t think of a better way to honor the birth of the Lord.

  Gray’s marriage proposal con
tinued to plague Lydia, however, following her, tempting her, making her remember his lovemaking and her own brazen responses. Would she ever be able to forget his volatile kisses or the way she’d shamelessly held aside her dress so he could feast upon her lustily? Now that her body had experienced the passionate sweep of a man’s hand, she wanted to again. He’d whispered to her in the dark and she wanted that again also, yet it could not be. Gray had many business interests. His father had worked hard to accumulate all that Gray had inherited. When the time came, Gray would pass that legacy on to his own son, but to do so Gray would have to have a son, and Lydia could not bear him one. Her barrenness made marrying him impossible. In her mind, the novelty of her homecoming would fade for him once she returned to Chicago, enabling him to set his sights and heart on someone else. Lydia had lost him once to Anna Mae and no, she didn’t want to lose him again, but the race needed men like Gray and it needed their sons. Since she could not contribute, it would be better if she stepped aside.

  Gray’s desire for Lydia had him so hog-tied, he couldn’t work, sleep, or eat. He saw her face everywhere he looked. Since the night they’d made love he’d been craving her kisses, her smile, and the weight of her soft breasts in his hands. He dreamed about her every night, dreams that left him hard and pulsing when he awakened each morning. If he didn’t find out why she wouldn’t marry him, and find out soon, he thought he might explode from his pent-up emotions. He looked down at the ledger he’d been working on and realized he’d added the column of numbers wrong again. He swore softly, then shoved the offending ledger aside. This was all Lydia’s fault. Were he not so madly in love with her, he would have no problem accepting her refusal, but he did love her, desire her, and want her in every way. The time had come to root out whatever cards she was holding, because dammit, he wanted her to be his wife and he wouldn’t let her say no again without telling him the real reason why.

  His decision made, Gray left the office, retrieved his wagon, and headed toward Miriam Cooper’s cabin.

  Miriam answered his knock on the door and, upon seeing him, smiled. “Well, hello, Gray. Come on in.”