Prairie Song

by Jodi Thomas

  Maggie gasped in shock as he boldly stroked her breasts with his hand. His laughter was warm and playful. “Tell me what direction to take now, Margaret. Tell me what trail to follow to make you happy.”

  Margaret tried to push away. “Don’t make fun of me!”

  He grabbed her hair in his huge hand. “Never,” he whispered, wondering what he’d done wrong.

  She shoved away and stood, then realized she could go only a few feet without getting drenched by the rain. She folded her arms over her chest and tried to stop the blood from running at double time through her body.

  Grayson stood behind her, wishing he could think of the right thing to say. He wanted her so badly that every part of his body ached, but he didn’t know what words were the key or what he’d done to cause her sudden coldness.

  As he stood watching her, hating himself for not taking the time to understand how to make a woman happy, he heard her sobs—soft, deep sobs.

  “Maggie,” he whispered. But she stayed turned away.

  He forced her to look at him, but the shadows hid her face. “Maggie?” Suddenly all the hardness of the woman he’d spent the day with passed away and only softness remained. She crumbled before him. Her sobs tore into him like thorns.

  He pulled her silently to him and she came willingly into his arms. “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered, and her words of pain stung him far more than her words of anger. “All my life I’ve heard men’s comments. I’ve heard them laugh at me and say I’m cold and bloodless. Even Westley told me he expected no feeling from me on our wedding night.”

  She pulled at his shirt as her words ripped him apart. “He came to me all loud and drunk. I froze up, afraid to move for fear it might hurt more. Something is terribly, terribly wrong with me! Tell me what I’m missing that all the world seems to have.”

  “Nothing,” he answered. “Nothing at all. You’re all the woman a man could ever dream of.”

  There was no need for more words. He held her until she was warm and relaxed in his embrace. Gently, he kissed her salty tears away.

  For the first time in his life he wished his hands were softer as they moved over her silky face. He tried to touch her as lightly as possible, for he didn’t want to scratch her with his callused hands. When his finger passed her lips, she opened her mouth to their touch and he could no longer resist the invitation to kiss her. His tongue slid into her mouth, brushing the sharpness of her teeth as he tasted her.

  This time he wasn’t demanding a kiss, but giving, and she accepted willingly. He sat beneath the tree and pulled her down once more, only now he placed her knees on either side of him so that she faced him completely. He kissed her until she was sure she’d die from the beauty of it. Her head felt light and she clung to him to keep from falling backward. He was awakening something deep inside her that no one had ever tried to find.

  Gently, his hands moved over her back, stroking her from shoulder to waist. Hesitantly, as his kiss deepened, his hands pushed lower until his long fingers covered her hips and pulled her gently against the center of his need.

  Maggie jerked away, suddenly unsure, suddenly afraid. She’d had a man inside her before and it was not a thing she wished to repeat. She wished she could see Grayson’s dark eyes, but his face was only a plain of shadows.

  He seemed to understand her fears, for his caress moved back to her spine and along the sides of her blouse. His kiss taught her of a joy and a pleasure she’d never tasted. With remembered skill, he drew her into his love play.

  When she was floating in pleasure, he moved his hands to her waist and pulled her against his chest. “Open your blouse, my love,” he whispered into her hair. “Allow me to feel your softness in my hand.”

  Maggie straightened her back and moved her fingers slowly to the buttons of her blouse. Hesitantly, she unbuttoned the long line of pearl buttons to her belt. As she worked, his thumbs circled at her waist.

  Lightly brushing her camisole, Grayson moved his hand from her waist to her throat. The silk was soft in his hands but didn’t bring him the pleasure her flesh would. He pulled her once again to him. “Completely open,” he gently ordered.

  Again she straightened, her hands trembling. She pulled the ribbons fastening her camisole until it fell open in a thin V to her waist. Her breath was coming in rapid, short gulps and she was thankful for the night. Her cheeks were hot from her own actions. Never had she been so bold. Never had she undressed for a man. Never had she felt so desirable. Grayson was a huge, silent man who was strong enough to hold her in his arms, and she wanted to please him. She wanted for one moment in her life just to be a woman in the arms of a man who needed only her.

  Grayson’s other hand remained at her waist as he leaned to kiss her. She could taste the hunger in him, yet he didn’t touch her. With her shirt undone, she felt free. Timidly, she leaned against him, flattening her breasts against his chest. Again he kissed her until the world became only his arms. Slowly, his hands moved down once more to cup her hips and pull her to him. This time she pushed against him, unafraid, knowing that her action made his heart pound faster and his kiss deepen.

  When she leaned away her breath was ragged. Only his hand about her waist kept her from falling. He pulled her to him once more and whispered, “Maggie, open your blouse to me.” She wasn’t a wild horse to be broken, but an equal to be met. She had to give, for he would never take from his proud Maggie.

  Silently, she pulled her blouse and camisole wide until the material slipped from her shoulders. Hesitantly, his fingers circled her throat and moved downward, stopping only a moment to touch each breast. The feel of his light touch was a liquid fire that burned across her, and she leaned back, allowing him full range over her flesh. He raised a knee to brace her back.

  “Tell me you want more,” he whispered softly. His huge palm covered her breast and circled. At first the action was light, but when she didn’t answer, the pressure and her pleasure increased. “Tell me!” His fingers tightened slightly and she arched in passion.

  “More!” Maggie gasped as his other hand slid along her waist and unbuckled her belt. With one shove, he pushed the material low on her hips so his hands could caress the curve of her waist.

  She moaned with pleasure as he buried his face between her breasts. He moved from side to side, tasting her flesh. A fire raged deep inside her. Never had she felt such pleasure and she twisted her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer.

  He took his time, leisurely feasting on her soft skin. When he raised his head, he whispered, “Don’t lace and hide any part of your beauty from me.” He lightly bit at her flesh. “Say my name, Maggie.”

  “Grayson,” she whispered in her soft southern accent.

  “Again,” he mumbled as he continued to kiss her.

  “Grayson!” she cried.

  With pleasure, he returned to kiss her while his fingers tugged at her breasts, now pointed and full.

  When finally she lay back in his arms, she whispered, “I’ve never felt … I’ve never known …”

  “Shh,” he answered. “I know.” He didn’t have to be told she’d never been awakened. He knew he was pulling her into deeper water than her emotions had ever treaded. A part of him cursed her husband Westley for not taking the time to please her and a part of him thanked the man for allowing him the great pleasure.

  He lay her next to him and felt her tense. “Easy, Maggie. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.”

  He kissed her until her body relaxed and moved with the rhythm of his hands. He moved his fingers over her, loving the passion that mounted with his touch. His mouth covered her breast as his hand slid her riding pants from her hips. With loving care he moved his fingers between her legs. The material of her undergarments did little to hide the feel of her warmth. He could hear her crying his name softly as he moved to the other breast and pressed harder with his hand. She cried his name again as he tugged at her hard peak.

  Slowly, his othe
r hand replaced his mouth and his lips returned to claim her kiss. He wanted to taste her cries of passion. She was moving now, pushing against his hand, twisting as he stroked her, straining for more of his touch. He fought for control of his own need. For this night he would make her aware that she was a desirable woman. Tomorrow he would make her his.

  His kiss became wild with the fire inside her. He could taste passion in the lining of her mouth and feel it in the pressure against his hand. Her arms fell back beside her head as pleasure consumed her body.

  Suddenly, she pulled her mouth from his and moved her head back and forth, crying his name as he’d dreamed she would someday.

  “Don’t stop!” she pleaded. “Please, Grayson!”

  He smiled as she jerked and cried out in pure pleasure. Her body moved once more against him, then she relaxed into his arms. Holding to him as though she might be swept away, she whispered his name once more. He cradled her gently and pulled her blouse around her. This was the way he wanted her, beside him, all soft and satisfied. He moved his hand over her hair, loving the way she rested her hand on his chest.

  When her breathing had returned to normal, he whispered into her damp hair. “There’s more.”

  Maggie laughed. “I’m not sure I can take more.”

  “Oh, you’ll take more, my love, and ask for it as you did tonight by crying my name”—he kissed her forehead—”next time we travel the road together, and then there will never be another man’s name on your lips when you cry out in passion.”

  He pulled her closer and found she was asleep. Smiling to himself, he realized he’d taught her about the need of passion. Tomorrow, maybe he’d teach her of love. He ran his hand along the side of her body and she curled closer to him. “You’re mine, Maggie. Mine forever, whether you know it or not.”

  Chapter 16

  Grayson had already built a fire and started breakfast by the time Margaret awoke. She tossed her mass of ebony hair over her head and watched a slow, steady smile spread across his rough face. He looked younger when he smiled and she realized how little he allowed himself to do so.

  “Coffee’s ready.” He stood and brought her a cup.

  Margaret found she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I must look a mess.”

  “You look beautiful,” he corrected; then he pulled his hat low, shading his eyes as if embarrassed at his boldness in the daylight.

  She downed the hot coffee and smiled. “This tastes wonderful.”

  For a moment she saw his eyes look down at her blouse and she knew he was thinking of the storm and the way he’d touched her. All night she’d slept in his arms and she knew the feel of him at her side would never leave her memory. Even now, when he would talk of nothing but the trail and the weather, she knew they’d both be thinking of the way his hands had moved over her body.

  He returned to the campfire. “The rain washed out any prayer of our trailing Cherish. There’s not much choice but to turn back and wait for another clue.”

  “Do you think she’s all right?” Maggie was suddenly filled with worry.

  “I think she’s fine. She’s with men who know the country and when she returns to the house, she’ll be safe with my men on duty.”

  Maggie stood and helped break camp. They said nothing else to one another, but she felt his eyes following her as she moved about. As they rode back toward Fort Worth, she thought of the way he’d held her and how he’d made her feel. No man had ever taken the time to show her love. Somewhere inside this quiet man was a blindness for her shortcomings. He didn’t seem to see what all the others did and she loved him for it.

  The day was hot with last evening’s rain, making the air thick and heavy. They traveled fast and hard, but she didn’t complain, and over and over again she saw him slow to make sure she was doing all right. When the sun was straight overhead, he stopped after crossing a stream and asked if she’d like to rest for an hour.

  Maggie nodded as she watched him swing from his saddle and turn to help her down. He lowered her slowly to the ground, allowing her body to slide along his. When her feet touched the ground, she looked up into his stormy eyes and smiled, knowing what was on his mind.

  She thought he might kiss her, but he merely said, “I’ll build a fire and see if I can’t catch a few fish for lunch.”

  “Do you think we’re close enough to town for it to be safe?”

  His hands were on her waist. “I think we’re too close to town.” His thumbs rubbed against her ribs and she understood his meaning.

  As he fished, she unrolled her bedroll and stretched out on it. The warm sun was her blanket and the grass her pillow as she fell asleep, aware that his eyes were constantly watching her.

  When she awoke, the shadows were long and the sun was already out of sight behind the trees. Maggie sat up with a start. “We have to hurry. I must have slept too long. It’s getting late.”

  Grayson rose from his position by the fire and walked toward her. “Want some fish?”

  “But it will be full dark when we get back.”

  “No,” Grayson said slowly, “it will be morning.”

  “But …”

  He knelt beside her on one knee. “Maggie, give me one night before we have to go back to be all that we are.”

  She understood. In town she would have to be so many things, but here she could be only herself without all the stays and laces. She looked away, unable to hold the hunger in his eyes. “Is there coffee to go with the fish?” Her question was all the answer he needed.

  Grayson poured her a cup. As he handed it to her, their fingers touched and Maggie almost dropped the coffee. She watched him leisurely walk back and squat by the fire to refill his mug. When he stood, his fingers moved over the hot metal cup, but it was her skin that suddenly burned. He stood watching her as if there were no place and no one in the world except her.

  Evening covered the earth. The fire danced across their faces and in their eyes. The gray smoke from the flames rose slowly as fireflies began to twinkle in the dusk of the prairie. When she’d finished eating, she went to the stream to wash and sat by the water for a long while, listening to it gurgle. She knew Grayson was waiting for her but somehow the waiting made it sweeter. She’d lived a long time with no dream of love in the future. Now she wanted to enjoy the dream for a moment before it became reality.

  She undressed and lay her clothes neatly over a log. Then she washed each part of her body and wrapped herself in a thin army-issue blanket. Combing her hair until it fell soft and full to her waist, Maggie walked back to the fireside.

  Grayson had moved their bedrolls over under the shadows of the trees. There was the soft scent of spring in the cool air. She smiled, knowing they’d need no fire to keep them warm tonight. He was stretched out with his hat over his eyes and his legs crossed at the ankle, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. His Union jacket and gun belt lay within reach of his hand.

  As silently as possible she moved toward him. When she stood beside him, the campfire to her back, she whispered, “Grayson.”

  He lifted his hat and she laughed at the surprise in his eyes as he saw her standing before him wrapped only in a blanket. Without hesitation, she lowered the wool covering her. She saw the joy and passion in his blue-gray depths as he beheld her. She was beautiful to him; she could see it in his eyes. Never in her life had she been treasured by any man and now she was. The knowledge washed over her, warming her from deep inside.

  She sank to her knees and he sat up. “God, woman, you are a sight!” He finally stumbled over the words.

  Reaching, he brushed the curtain of hair from her full breasts. There were a thousand things he wished he could tell her, volumes of words it would take to tell her of her beauty. But all he could do was stare. Her form was his measure of perfection from her full breasts to her slender waist and hips.

  Suddenly Maggie grew nervous. She didn’t know what to do. She looked down and grew embarrassed at her boldness. Never would she have thought she’d
ever stand nude in front of a man. Lifting the blanket she covered herself and whispered, “I …” Her mind would think of no words.

  Then Grayson’s hand was on the blanket, pulling her to him. He drew her into his arms and kissed her until she forgot all about being embarrassed. He lay her down on the blankets and spread his powerful body over hers for warmth. For an endless time he kissed her tenderly and explored every part of her body with his gentle hands.

  There was no withdrawal, no hesitation in her. She moved in response to his touch as though she’d known it all her life. She kissed him with the same passion that he showed her.

  Again the feeling of being loved washed over Maggie and she cried out softly with pleasure. Only tonight, she wanted to give him pleasure as well. She moved her hand over his skin and when she felt his muscles tighten, she repeated her actions. Silently, he was teaching her, and she was loving every lesson.

  She pushed his clothes from his body and loved the hard feel of his flesh. His chest was covered with fine brown hair that tickled her skin as he moved over her. She’d never touched a man so boldly and as she realized the power she had over him she laughed.

  Grayson relaxed by her side. “What’s so funny?” He tickled her ear with his words.

  “You,” she teased. “You’re so hairy and your skin is so hard. I can make your muscles tighten just by brushing my hand over your chest.”

  Grayson groaned as she proved her point. “But your skin is so soft and hairless.” He laughed. “And I can make you move simply by moving my hand.” He slid his fingers across the peak of her breast and watched her arch to his touch as though her entire body were begging for more—which was exactly what he planned to deliver.

  They continued to touch one another until both were hot with desire. Maggie moved mindlessly to his embrace and her breathing was shallow and quick.

  Grayson rolled above her, bracing himself with his hands on either side of her head. He sank until his chest pressed lightly against her breasts. “Please, Maggie.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No. I’m afraid. It hurt so badly before.” She felt panic climb up her spine like poison ivy, destroying all the pleasure she’d felt. The memory of her wedding night came back full force. She’d cried in pain then, but Westley had told her it was every wife’s duty. When he’d finished, he’d left her bleeding and alone while he’d gone back to continue drinking.