The more time he spent with her, the stronger his past-life memories became. He could see Melody superimposed on Jane, in his mind’s eye.
There was no telling what Jane knew, or her understanding of it. It was best to behave as if everything was normal. He would have to move very slowly so as not to scare her or harass her.
He held up the bustier again and shuddered. The beast inside him howled and clawed and demanded to be given the girl’s flesh. Nathanial rubbed his face and shoved the garment in a drawer. He couldn’t look at it any longer. The damn thing made him painfully hard.
He unfolded the scarf from the box and stretched it out to its full length. This was a nice, pretty gift with no innuendo. Still, they weren’t at the place in their relationship where he could offer her any gifts without making her feel strange or obligated.
He took the scarf, the perfume set, and put them all in the drawer. They would have to wait for another time. If he got her alone again, he might be able to make his feelings known. He would have to handle it delicately.
Nathanial walked out of his office and down the stairs to find out what was for dinner. On the way to the kitchen, he turned to look in the library to check on Jane and Morgan. He knocked and waited to be invited inside. He heard Jane’s sweet voice, saying to come in. He opened the door, and Morgan hopped up from the table and trotted over to him. She threw her arms around his waist and squeezed.
“Daddy!”
Nathanial bent down and gave his daughter a hug. Emotions welled up from deep inside. He wanted so much to be a better father, to fix what was broken in both of them. He had done an inadequate job since his wife died. He’d failed so many times. He held Morgan to him and took a deep breath.
All he could do was try harder. He had to find out how Jane could help him remove his curse. Aside from that, he was developing genuine feelings for her, especially after today. She was sweet, helpful, lovely. She could give him and Morgan a whole new chance at life. Nathanial pulled away and stood up, smiling down at his daughter and caressed her face.
“How are the lessons today?” he asked, his voice heavy.
Jane’s face was serene as she looked at the stack of children’s books on the table. She ran her hand over the pile and gazed up at Nathanial.
“Morgan is making excellent progress. Her natural reading level increases every day, as does her ability with math.”
“Excellent. I’m going to see what Patty is making for dinner. Do you want me to get you when it’s done?”
“Yes!” said Morgan, looking adoringly at her father.
Nathanial moved out of the room and closed the doors. He wondered what Jane meant by “natural” reading ability. He remembered her mentioning something about Morgan’s mother reading for her, but he had been so distracted by the ensuing werewolf shift, that he could barely think of anything else.
He passed through the hall into the kitchen and smelled chicken potpies baking in the oven. Patty was out of the room for the moment, so Nathanial peeked into the oven to see several rows of potpies coming to a golden brown. There was enough for the family, all the staff, and the hunters. It was moments like these that he was grateful for employees like Patty. Her sister, on the other hand, that was a different story.
He closed the oven door and went to catch some sports highlights on the satellite TV. It was a rare occasion when Nathanial let himself relax enough to sit still for a few moments, but he relished the feeling. He could see an end to the frustration and terror of the past year. Jane’s warmth and kindness seemed to support the entire household with its glow.
A timer went off. Patty scurried into the kitchen and flung open the oven. Nathanial watched her pull sheets filled with potpies from the rack and place them on the kitchen island. She quickly transferred the pies to cooling trays and closed the oven door.
“Should I get the girls?”
“Please, I need to run these down to the lodge.”
Nathanial stood and walked through the hallway to the library. He tapped on the door and peeked inside. Morgan and Jane were sitting together in an easy chair reading a chapter book. Jane had her finger on the page as she scanned the sentences for Morgan to read. They looked up, and Jane batted her eyelashes.
“Dinner’s ready. Chicken potpies.”
“Yummy,” said Morgan, hopping up from Jane’s lap.
Jane stood and followed Morgan toward the kitchen. Nathanial stayed in the doorway, watching them pass. He briefly admired the curve of Jane’s body under her form-fitting pants. A flash of the lilac bustier sprang to mind. His inner beast growled.
He followed Jane and Morgan to the kitchen and set plates at the table. Jane watched him as he placed her plate in front of her and served the steaming-hot potpies. He asked them what they wanted to drink and brought them both their requests. All the while, Jane eyed him with what seemed to Nathanial like suspicion.
When she had first arrived, he was anxious about his impending shift. It took most of his willpower to keep himself from firing half the staff and locking himself in a cell. Being polite to the sweet-smelling new girl hadn’t been on his priority list. That was before he knew what he knew now. He couldn’t go back and change things.
He slid onto the bench across from Jane, next to Morgan. Jane had changed into a gauzy shirt covering a tank top that barely concealed her ample cleavage. His eyes brushed over the sight of her exposed flesh and locked on her face. He didn’t want her to catch him admiring her. There was much more to Jane than her sensuous curves.
“Did you enjoy the Miller Ranch?” He said, trying to keep his eyes from falling over her body.
“I did. It was nice to see more of the countryside.”
“I’ve thought about your suggestions, and I think you’re right. The place needs a full overhaul. We can get a lot of work done before winter arrives if we start now. Would you like to help me choose finishes?”
“Sure,” she said, pushing her fork into her potpie.
He knew that involving Jane in remodeling the house would be an opportunity to be close to her.
“I have some contractors coming up from Kalispell. I’d like to get most of the bigger projects completed before the first snow.”
“Just let me know what I can do.”
“I’m going to have Clive, Daisy, and Joshua load about twenty head of cattle to take over to the Miller place to mow down that hay before winter comes. They’ll do that tomorrow. You can come with me to meet the contractors if you’d like.”
“I think I should stay with Morgan.”
“Morgan can come too.”
“I don’t know. We’ve been making a lot of progress.”
“Please, I want to go too,” Morgan whined.
“You can always do some lessons in the car or the orchard or something,” said Nathanial.
When he mentioned the orchard, Jane shuddered. Her face went gray. Nathanial felt maybe he’d miss stepped. Getting Jane back to the Miller place might not be as easy as he’d thought.
“Or you can take the day off from lessons,” he offered.
“Maybe,” said Jane, taking another bite of her potpie. “I love Patty’s cooking.”
“I’ll have her pack us a picnic lunch for tomorrow.”
Patty came back in through the side door from the kitchen and got herself a plate.
“Penny is eating in her room, again,” said Patty.
It wasn’t a loss not to have Penny at the dinner table. She was a good housekeeper, and Patty’s sister, but she was not very good company. He suspected she was not entirely kind to his daughter. It was yet another thing he’d neglected to deal with.
I traveled through the blackness of sleep into the netherworld of dreams. Fragments of time and space fell around me like Alice falling through the rabbit hole. In the logic of dreams, all made perfect sense as my eyes twitched under their lids. Mist parted revealing a scene, so familiar yet new.
We sat under the shadow of the snow-tipped mountain on
a blanket he had spread in the grass. The silver water of his lake glistened under the soft sunlight. I could see the sparkles of light dance in the afternoon air. I breathed in, feeling a mixture of excitement and deep peace. My love and I were courting.
I wore my new dress. The fabric had come all the way from Chicago by pack mule, just for me. Nathanial wore his suit and sat next to me on the blanket. His serious face gazed down at the wine bottle he struggled to open. His rough hands were used to hard work, not the delicate process of opening a corked bottle.
I gently slid my hands over his and took the bottle and corkscrew. I’d opened many bottles for my family’s Sunday night dinners. I deftly pushed the screw into the cork and applied pressure while twisting.
Nathanial looked at me with pride in his dark eyes. The cork released with a popping sound, and I poured red liquid into our little glasses. He lifted his glass and held it up to me, his smile gentle. I tapped my glass to his and sipped my wine. It was a fine vintage, imported from Spanish California. Nathanial did spoil me. The velvety flavor of the merlot slipped over my tongue, heightening my senses.
He told me of his plans for his land, his fine house.
I inched closer, pressing my body into his. Nathanial blinked at me, his face turning pale. I felt I had disgusted him with my contact, and shame rose to redden my face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I wanted him more than anything in the world. I wanted him to touch me; to explore my body with his big rough hands.
“We shouldn’t,” was all he said as he stood.
“But why?”
“We must wait until we are married,” he said above me. I looked up at his towering body. The strength of his form made me want him even more. I felt vulnerable and small below him. I wanted to lean back on the blanket to let him fall over me.
“I don’t want to wait,” I breathed. My bosom heaved under my dress.
“You don’t know what you are saying, Melody. Knowing each other in that way is a sin.”
I knew what the preachers said. But I also saw the farm animals and the wild mating in their primal dance. How could something so basic be a sin? I wanted to feel his weight over me. I could feel the moisture seep between my legs at the thought of him on top of me like a hungry bull.
“It isn’t a sin to the natives.”
Nathanial knelt beside me, his face grave. He took my hands in his and kissed my knuckles. He looked into my eyes as if begging me to understand.
“Don’t you know how much I love you, my sweet girl? I will not disrespect you. If anyone found out or if anything happened, there could be a great scandal. You are the most beautiful, cleverest, bravest woman I have ever known. I won’t have anyone spreading rumors about you.”
My heart leapt at his words. I knew he was right, and his self-control in the face of my demands made me respect him so much more. But my body longed for fulfillment. The wedding was planned to take place in one year, when I was seventeen, and he was twenty-seven. We had already been courting for a year, and the wait was killing me.
Sometimes at night, I would reach under my shift and touch the tender places between my legs. It felt better than anything in the world. I couldn’t listen to anymore words of sin. It was a blessing to feel so much pleasure. God must have intended for us to be pleased by these sensations. I wouldn’t listen to anyone who said otherwise. Perhaps I was a blasphemer, but I believed we were meant to explore our desires.
“Please Nathanial, it’s what I want!”
He took me in his arms and kissed me hard. My body melted into his commanding embrace. How could I wait so long to have him inside me? I wanted our souls to merge. I wanted to reach the height of pleasure with the man I loved. Why did he have to be so stubborn? I slid my hand down his chest and let it caress the hardening flesh under his trousers. As my hand fell on him, he pushed me away.
This time, when he pulled away from me, I felt anger. Was I not beautiful? Did he not desire my flesh? I stood, shaking out my dress. I would walk back to my ranch if need be. I glared at him and turned away.
He caught my arm and turned me to him. Distress filled his eyes. I wanted to feel sorry for him, but I didn’t. The honor he seemed so eager to protect, was mine. It was mine to sacrifice. Mine to give.
“Let me take you home. We can talk about this another time.”
I relented and helped him gather our things to place them in the wagon. The excitement I felt at his touch had turned into a burning sting.
I moved through blackness until I saw myself again, as Melody, standing on a wooden fence watching my father and Owen push cattle into the pasture. He looked at me with his bright hungry eyes, and I smiled back. His gaze was so direct and so consuming; I allowed myself to remain in its grasp. My father yelled at Owen to pay attention as a cow nearly broke away back through the gate. His lithe body darted to push the cow in line with the herd.
I jumped down from the fence, tired of the smell of cattle and the dust they raised. I wandered over to the fledgling cherry orchard. My father swore cherries would be big in Montana. The spindly trees rose to my shoulders looking pitiful.
Beyond the orchard was Owen’s hut. I heard a cracking branch and looked behind me. Owen approached, staring straight at me as he walked. He often looked at me this way, a full unwavering gaze.
“It’s a fine day,” he said.
“It is.”
He drew closer and came to stand over me, looking down at my plump round breasts under the gingham fabric of my dress. He was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. Part of me felt like I should move, and another part of me felt good to have such intense attention.
“You look mighty fine today.”
“Thank you,” I said, looking up at him from under my eyelashes.
“Care for some afternoon tea?”
“Why, thank you.”
I followed him into the hut. There was a heating stove with a teakettle, a table and chairs, and a bed covered in a patchwork quilt. I walked inside, noticing the little details in his room. Near his bed was a bookshelf. I loved books and went to see what he enjoyed. I noticed a black book with a strange five-pointed star on it. I reached out to pick it up, but he pulled it away and tucked it under some clothes.
My eyebrows knit together. I didn’t like not getting what I wanted. Then I noticed a silver picture frame face-down on his bedside table. It looked quite familiar. I grabbed it and looked at it before he could stop me. It was a photograph of me. He’d taken it from the house.
“Why do you have this?” I asked, haughtily.
He collapsed on the bed and put his head in his hands. Then he looked up at me, his expression tense and pleading. He fell to his knees and took my hands.
“I love you,” he declared.
“But I’m betrothed to your brother.”
“He doesn’t love you. I love you. I adore you. I know that you feel the same for me. I know what you want. Nathanial told me.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me you want to make love, and he doesn’t want you.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t want me?”
“He said, he thinks you are too fat. He will do it for duty to unify the families, after he marries you. But he won’t like it.”
“I don’t believe you. Nathanial loves me.”
“I love you,” he said, standing, still holding my hands. “I want to feel your body close to mine more than anything else in the world.”
He pulled me close to him. His contact made me feel weak. I couldn’t move as his hands ran over my body. I didn’t know if I was aroused or repulsed. I knew I should leave, but somehow I couldn’t.
Owen pushed me down on the bed, pulling down my drawers. I gasped, wide eyed, but still couldn’t act. He pulled out of his pants and fell over me. He covered my mouth with his hand and thrust into me. My mind was a fog. My body was numb.
When he was finished. I pulled my clothes back on and stood watching him as he sat pan
ting on the bed. I blinked several times and left wordlessly.
“You will marry me!” -he shouted through the door.
Chapter 11
I sat in the front of the Range Rover with Morgan buckled into the backseat. The bright sun shone down from a clear blue sky, warming the world. Nathanial opened the driver’s side door and hopped inside.
There was something he wasn’t telling me. But there was something I wasn’t telling him either. Rationally, I couldn’t explain it. Maybe I was cracking up. But my own inner compass was pointing in one direction, and that direction was toward Nathanial.
I glanced over him as he drove down the long dirt road that led to the highway. His strong arms strained against the tight long-sleeve T-shirt he wore. He looked at me, glancing down at my legs and snapped his eyes back to the road. It was the first time I’d worn shorts since I’d arrived.
It was a warm day, and I couldn’t resist showing off my legs. My pale thighs were exposed under the denim. I wasn’t a skinny girl, but my legs were shapely and firm. Short shorts were a staple in Missouri, but from the look I received from Nathanial, I didn’t think they were that common in Montana.
Part of me relished his admiration. Memories of my dream filtered through my waking consciousness. The Nathanial in my dream wouldn’t make love to me, me as Melody Miller. The thought of teasing him tickled my throat, and I coughed.
“Are you alright?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, struggling to quiet my coughing fit.
I settled down and wondered why it affected me so viscerally. The dreams and evidence pointed to the fact that I was the long-dead Melody Miller. I felt love and admiration for Nathanial in my dream, and an intense but stifled sexual desire. My prior dreams of Owen had been so intense, so erotic. I couldn’t quite remember my dream of Owen last night, but I knew it felt different from before. I sighed, not knowing what to make of it all.
We piled out of the car at the Miller place. The contractors were already there walking through the house. Morgan slipped her hand inside of mine as we walked into the dark, musty confines of the old building. A building inspector approached Nathanial with a detailed list of necessary renovations. Nathanial took the news with good humor, even though several sub-flooring beams needed replacing and so did the roof.
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