by Lena Hart
He made short work of their clothes and soon they were naked. “So beautiful,” he murmured thickly as he stared down at her.
What lingering shyness she’d held vanished from the longing in his eyes and those two simple words. With a small smile, she pulled him down to her until her breasts pressed firmly against his hard chest.
His rigid shaft rested hot and heavy between her thighs and she shivered again from the foreign sensations, excited and nervous from her vulnerable position. But he continued his slow caress, lightly passing his tongue over her beaded nipples. She jerked from the intense pleasure, unrestrained need burning between her thighs and she ached to have him inside her.
“Logan, please…” she breathed, her fingers clutching his hair.
His ragged breathing was sharp against her ear as he licked the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder. A soft tremor coursed through her again and with a low moan, she lifted her hips against his straining member. She wanted to give him all of her and was prepared to take all of him.
Reaching between their bodies, Logan slowly guided himself into her. Gracie gasped as he pushed deep inside her damp channel, her body stretching to accommodate him. The pain was intense but fleeting as he began to gently, carefully, thrust into her.
She shivered with each slow drag of his hard shaft along her sensitive flesh, the intensity of her response forcing a whimper of pleasure from her lips. She lifted her hips to take more of him as she gave in to him and her desire willingly and wholeheartedly. He made love to her with such unspeakable tenderness that her body nearly burst from the pleasure of it.
She held him tight inside her as their bodies danced synchronously to a timeless ballad. There was no room for shame, no time for regret. There was only space in the dark caboose for their frantic, baser needs, until together they found sweet fulfillment.
Chapter Eight
Logan held Gracie close to his side as she slept.
Her warm breath brushed along his neck, and her soft curves pressed against him. The tight coils of her curly hair lay wild around her head and tickled his cheek. He smiled, remembering just how wild she was in her passion, and still feeling the sting on his back where she had dug in her nails.
Everything about last night had been unexpected. From her fervent desire for him to the easy way their bodies had come together. She had been sweetly passionate and as insatiable in her desire as he. Physically, they fit together flawlessly, and emotionally…he knew he was in trouble.
He continued running his palm along her bare back and hips, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin. From the dim gray light coming through the high, narrow window of the caboose, dawn was almost upon them. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, thinking about last night and how good, how right, she had felt in his arms.
He needed to figure out a way to convince her not to go through with her marriage to Whitaker. He didn’t have as much money as the man, but he was fit and able and could work to provide for her and whatever children they ended up having.
The image of her round with his baby filled him with such fierce possessiveness that he instinctively tightened his arms around her. Murmuring, she shifted slightly in her sleep, and he eased his hold but didn’t let go. Though their lovemaking had been incredible, he wanted more than just to sate himself in her body. He wanted her smiles, her laughter, and her heart for himself.
She stirred again in his arms, and he pressed his lips against her hair. He watched as her lips curved up dreamily, then she blinked. Then blinked again.
“Logan?”
Beneath his palm, tension traveled along her spine until her once soft, pliant body was rigid against him. Suddenly, she pushed away from him and sat up on the blanket, taking up as much as she could to cover her breasts. It was silly, really, since he vividly recalled her plump mounds and mocha brown peaks. He also remembered their carnal taste and smooth texture, and his shaft stirred at the memory.
But as much as he wanted her back in his arms, he also wanted to wipe the panic that was burning bright in her large, dark eyes.
“Dear God, what have I done?”
Her whispered appeal was barely audible, but he heard it. He considered himself a compassionate man, and could understand her confusion and maybe even her guilt over what they had done, but he couldn’t tolerate it if she felt ashamed.
“Gracie, it’s all right,” he said, slowly sitting up but not reaching for her just yet. Not that he didn’t want to, but Logan could sense she needed space to process what had happened between them. And more than anything, he wanted her to be the one to come to him.
From the way she vigorously shook her head, he would need to exercise patience before that would happen.
“No, it’s not all right,” she said. “I’m supposed to meet my future husband today! I’m supposed to be chaste until our wedding night.”
Logan tried to tamp down the jealousy that was rising in him. After last night, he didn’t want to think about another man seeing and touching her the way he had, the way she had allowed him to.
She brought her hand to her throat, clutching the blanket closer to her. “What do I tell him? I never meant for this to happen, but I can’t possibly marry him now.”
“No, you can’t,” Logan said, glad she had arrived at that conclusion on her own. “And what happened between us last night is no one else’s business. My intention was never to take advantage of you, and I certainly don’t intend to bring you to Whitaker as if nothing happened.”
Her eyes were solemn. “What are we going to do? I—we have to atone for this sin.”
The remorse in her eyes ate at him, and he reached for her then, carefully pulling her into his arms. She was still tense, but she braced her hand on his shoulders, not holding on to him, but not pushing him away either.
“You don’t need to feel ashamed about what happened last night, Gracie. There’s something magical between us, and no man can take that away.”
“But my family…I agreed to this marriage for them. When I break this contract, they will have to forfeit the payment Mr. Whitaker made for our arrangement. They can’t afford to do that.”
“They won’t have to,” he said. “I’ll talk to Whitaker. I have money, and I’m sure there is something— Stop shaking your head, angel. I’m not going to let you deal with this alone.”
“We should speak to him together. I need Mr. Whitaker to understand this is not something we planned. I can’t do that if I’m cowering behind you or letting you fight my battles.”
He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Think of it as being cautious. Marrying Whitaker is not something you or I want you to do, but he is expecting a wife when we arrive in Montana. We need to approach this situation sensibly when we get there.”
“Mr. Whitaker would never—”
“You don’t know that,” Logan cut in. “And I’m not going to just leave you alone to deal with the man’s anger. If it means parting with a few dollars to free you from your contract, then so be it.”
She stared at him searchingly. “You would do that for me?”
The corner of his lips lifted in a small smile. “Yes, angel, I would. I…care about you, and I want us to have a future filled with laughter and smiles. Not regret.”
She touched his cheek gently, her eyes filling with warmth and…misery? Memories of their conversation last night returned to him and he regretted his cynicism about love and happiness. He had been speaking about his own impractical feelings for her. But last night, he had gotten a preview of what it would be like to have all of her for himself, and he knew he couldn’t just walk away now. Not when the reality of creating and enjoying a life together was so tangible.
“Logan, I care about you too. But a future together? That would be impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible, Gracie. Just know I will do whatever I can to make this right.” He smiled crookedly. “A wise woman once told me there’s nothing wrong with having a little faith. Have faith in me. In us.”
She relaxed slightly against him and returned his smile. He realized in that moment that he more than cared for her, this beautiful, dark-skinned woman with wild, coiled hair. It wasn’t just her gentle yet fiery spirit, or the way she had moved against him in the late hours of the night, that had made his desire for her endless. It was the way she put others first, the way she viewed the world through a naive yet positive lens. She mainly saw the good in people, including him, despite what she knew—and didn’t know—about him. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he was falling in love with his singing angel.
In a few hours, they would be boarding the steamboat and leaving for Montana, and in that short time he had to think of his approach to Whitaker, because there was no way he could let her marry the man.
She’s mine now.
Logan sealed his silent declaration with a kiss, and the light touch soon turned hot and explorative until he was once again inside her, thrusting deep to meet the rise of her eager hips. With every delicate caress along his heated flesh and every delicious moan that tore from her, it became clear that they were destined for each other.
“What’s this?”
“Breakfast.”
Gracie stared down at the small red apple Logan handed her and shook her head. “No thank you. I don’t like apples.”
Logan frowned. “You have to eat something, angel. It’s going to be a long trip, and this is all I have.”
She sighed and took the fruit, not prepared to go into an entire discussion about why she loathed the particular fruit. Telling him about the time her taste for them had led to her father being whipped didn’t seem like appropriate morning conversation as they waited to board the steamboat.
The memory of her father’s pain that day, for such a silly reason, had always haunted her. Had she truly understood at four years old what it meant to be a slave, she would have never taken the apple without permission. Then her father wouldn’t have been forced to lie about taking it for her, and he would have never had his back flayed. That day, she had lost the taste for the fruit. Today, like many days prior with her students, she was reminded why.
“Why don’t you go on ahead and find us a spot to settle. I’m going to make sure all of our bags made it on the boat with us this time.”
Gracie didn’t expect the brief kiss Logan landed on her lips, but neither did she shy away from it. After last night—and this morning—she knew without a doubt that she couldn’t possibly marry Mr. Whitaker now. She didn’t want to consider the inconvenience she would place on the man or the embarrassment to her family. Yet a small part of her was relieved that she would not have to go forward with the arranged marriage. The consequences wouldn’t be pleasant, but she was prepared to face them.
She found a quiet spot at the head of the steamboat to wait for Logan. Her strained nerves and excitement made butterflies dance in her stomach. She still couldn’t accept how much had changed in such a short time. How much she had changed.
Giving herself to a man who wasn’t her husband had not been something she’d ever considered doing. It was the very epitome of sin, and yet she didn’t feel the level of guilt or remorse she had expected from giving in to her base desires. Mainly her guilt stemmed from her inconveniencing a man who had spent a considerable amount of money to bring her here, not to mention what the end of her contract would mean for her family. She wouldn’t lie to Mr. Whitaker and enter into a sham marriage, but neither would she let her family suffer because of her mistake. She would just have to find a way to be resourceful in order to support them.
As Gracie stood at the far end of the steamboat, she realized the advantage of the isolated area. No one could see her standing there. Unless they came closer and peeked around the large cylinder, she had found herself an exceptional hiding spot. She almost thought of her newly discovered sanctuary as a plus, until she realized the one person she had no intentions of hiding from would be looking for her.
Gracie started to leave the secluded area, but the sound of approaching footsteps and men talking gave her pause. She hesitated, waiting for the voices to pass. The last thing she wanted was to reveal her vulnerable position in such an isolated spot.
But instead of walking past, the men stopped as another joined them.
“Good day, Massa Flynn. Funny running into you here.”
“I’m not your master anymore, James. It’s just Logan now.”
Gracie was so relieved to hear Logan’s voice that it took her a moment to process his words.
“Yes, sir,” the man named James rushed out. “You needing help with something, Mr. Logan? We seen you walking all around this boat.”
“I’m looking for someone,” Logan said. “A young Negro woman in a plaid day dress. Have you seen her?”
“No, sir, can’t say I have.”
“All right. Well, you let me know if you do.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gracie slowly released her breath as she heard Logan’s strong footsteps fade away. She waited in her hidden spot, still trying to process what she’d heard. Logan had been a slave owner?
Apparently, James and his friend also waited until Logan got out of earshot before he spoke again. “My, I ain’t never dream of seeing young Massa Flynn around these parts. Makes a man feel kinda funny.”
“How you mean?” his friend asked.
“I don’t know… Massa Flynn wasn’t an evil man, but it sho’ is nice to see how far the white man has fallen. Now I ain’t got to be nobody’s field nigger no more.”
The two men walked off, and Gracie remained frozen in the isolated part of the boat, trembling from her core. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause for her quivering, but outrage, disgust, and immense sadness tangled themselves into knots inside her.
Flynn.
All the pieces fell into place as she repeated that name in her head. Logan Finley—no, Logan Flynn. A Confederate soldier from Maryland. The coincidence was astounding, but it all made sense now. She recalled his uneasiness on the train when she made mention of the name and realized he had known all along about their connected past. Why hadn’t he said anything?
Because he’s a coward, an angry voice burst from inside her. He hadn’t even faced her with the truth about himself.
Because he’s ashamed, a more sympathetic voice whispered. He had gone as far to change his name and move west to reinvent himself.
Gracie blew out a shuddering breath. It didn’t matter why he’d done it. The fact was that he had lied to her, and she had stupidly fallen for his charm.
She glanced down at her hand and realized she still clutched the bright red apple. Memories of that long-ago time flooded her. The sharp snap of the whip, the shouts of pain from her father…
All because she had wanted something to eat.
With a small cry, Gracie released the small fruit as if it stung her palm. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud. A large lump formed in her throat until she thought she would suffocate from it. Her vision clouded with unshed tears as shame and regret at her naiveté rolled through her.
How could she not have seen this? He played the part of an honorable, compassionate man well, but men like him were the reason people like her father bore their battle scars on their bodies and their hearts.
How could she have given herself to a man like Logan, a man who had kept people who looked like her enslaved? And like a fool, she had sacrificed her family’s security for a moment of pleasure. That knowledge made the lump in her throat expand until it weighed down on her chest and broke her heart.
Chapter Nine
“She’s a beauty, for sure, Mr. Finley, but that’s quite an offer for a Negro woman.”
Logan hated having to negotiate for Gracie as if she were some broodmare, but he was willing to offer whatever he needed to get Robert Whitaker to release her from her contract.
And then after, he would ask her to marry him proper. If she would have him.
She had been distant since they h
ad left Nebraska. He imagined she was either still upset about the tongue lashing he’d given her for the worry she caused him when he couldn’t find her on the boat. Or she was still feeling guilty about their night together in the caboose.
Either way, he didn’t like that she was withdrawing from him, and he certainly didn’t want her angry with him. He hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her that he had every intention of marrying her and making an honest woman of her, but first he needed to deal with Whitaker.
“I appreciate you fulfilling the role of escort for my betrothed when Mrs. Dobson unfortunately took ill,” Robert continued. “In fact, it should be I who should be paying you. So forgive me if I’m still baffled by this sudden turn of events and your request. Unless there was something Miss Shaw confided to you? Something I should know before our upcoming nuptials?”
Logan shook his head. He couldn’t ignore the bank draft that sat in front of him on the polished oak wood desk. Robert had been fully prepared to pay him for his services in bringing his betrothed to Montana, only to be surprised to receive Logan’s counter offer to buy out Gracie’s marriage contract.
“I just want her to have the chance to choose who she will marry.”
The man raised a brow and sat back in his seat. “Why do you care, Mr. Finley? Did something unseemly occur between you and my fiancée?”
“No.” As far as Logan was concerned, there was nothing inappropriate about their lovemaking. “But I do care for her and will ask her to marry me if she will have me.”
“Well, I appreciate your honesty,” Robert said, studying him closely. “It’s not every day a white man offers to marry a black woman so you must have deep feelings for her. What you’re offering couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. But I have to say, unfortunately, it’s still not enough.”