He had brought a tarpaulin for shelter, and hadn't bothered stringing it up earlier. It only took a minute, and he'd known she was eager to explore. "Not too far from your tent," he said, as he set his cup aside. "I should go take care of it before dark."
She didn't budge, but he knew she watched his every movement. The place he chose for his lean-to was only about ten feet from her tent and between it and the trail in. While it wasn't likely anybody would bother them, he wanted to hear them first, if they did. After he spread his bedroll and set a candle and matches to hand, he went back to the fire, being careful not to look directly at the flames, now that dusk had fallen.
"You don't have a tent."
"I don't need one. Believe me, Miss Sanders, I've slept in far worse conditions." Sometimes during the War he'd been happy to have a tree overhead to protect himself from the worst of the rain. A sturdy tarpaulin and warm blankets felt almost like luxury.
"But you'll freeze!"
For a brief moment, he was tempted to say that if she was concerned about his keeping warm, she should invite him into her tent.
What scared him was that she might.
Chapter Fourteen
Nellie looked at Mr. Bradley, sitting a quarter of the way 'round the fire from her. Unlike her, he was looking off into the darkness. To keep his eyes night-adapted, he'd said. It wasn't all that dark yet, but he still maintained watch.
She wondered what it would be like to always be on guard against unknown danger. How could one ever relax, enjoy life? Appreciate the beauty of nature?
One really couldn't, she thought. She let her gaze linger on his face, bronzed by the firelight. His eyes were in shadow, as was the deep cleft in his chin. He had the look of complete repose, yet she knew that the slightest noise, the barest hint of danger would bring him to full alert. Even now, as they lingered over a last cup of tea, his rifle was within reach. She imagined his pistol was somewhere about his body, too. And the knife he carried in his boot.
Were any beasts in the forest more dangerous than this man? She doubted it.
She licked her lips, reached deep inside herself, and spoke the works she had carefully chosen. "Mr. Bradley, you said you wanted me..." There was more, but her voice trailed off into silence as she saw his body tense into total stillness.
The silence persisted until she wondered if he would ever speak again. At last he turned his head, looked directly at her. Shadow concealed his eyes, but she could feel their gaze, burning into hers, as if trying to see her very thoughts.
"I'd hoped you'd forgotten." His voice was low, almost broken.
"I can't." Where was the daring she had been sure was hers? The words she'd so carefully planned? I will not beg! But she would argue. She would fight for something she might never otherwise have.
"I will not forget, Mr. Bradley, until you explain what you meant." Why were her lips so dry, her tongue so clumsy? " Was I mistaken, or were you suggesting a...a sexual liaison?" Do I hope he is? If that's all I can have?
The sound he made was a denial, but it sounded more like a grunt of pain. He wiped one hand across his face, leaving long dents where his fingers dug into the flesh of his cheeks. "Any liaison with a man like me would be offensive to a woman--a lady--like you," he said, his voice hoarse and uneven. "But God forgive me, I want you like I've never wanted a woman before.
"And I can't have you." He thrust himself to his feet, took one step outside the light of the dying fire.
As if drawn by a puppeteer's strings, she stood too, and followed. Stopping only when she was so close behind him that she felt the heat of him, smelled the tang of sweat and woodsmoke and man. Moonlight surrounded him, made a halo encircling his bent head. A fallen angel? Wasn't that my first impression of him?
She set her palms against his leather vest, felt his chest slowly move with his breath as she slid her palms around his waist. He was warm, vibrant.
Sometime in this past month, she had come to realize that she had only been existing up until now. Marking time, one day after another, while life passed her by.
He makes me feel alive!
"Why not?" As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth, Nellie knew they were the wisest she had ever spoken. Why shouldn't she live another of her dreams this summer? Like coming into the field, this might be her only opportunity.
"Why not?" she repeated, wrapping her arms around him. "If you'll settle for just this summer."
"Turn loose," he said. He turned within her embrace, pried her arms from around him. With inexorable strength, he pushed her away, just far enough that her breasts weren't pressing against his chest. He'd have pushed her farther, but she clung to his forearms.
"Why? Why won't you?" She was not begging. She was fighting for her future. Even if it was only as long as summer lasted.
"Woman, do you know what you're asking?"
"I know." The words came out as a whisper, because her breath seemed caught in her chest.
"I'm a bad man. I've got no home, no roots. I can't offer you--"
"Hush!" She laid her hand across his mouth. "I'm not asking for anything more than what you can give me."
"You'd be sorry, afterward."
"I believe that would be my problem, not yours." She slid her hands up his arms, onto his shoulders. "I am no innocent child, Mr. Bradley. I do know the possible consequences of what I'm asking. However, you are a healthy specimen, so I presume you are not diseased. The other--well, I've heard a man can prevent...ah, surely there is something you can do to--"
This time it was his hand over her mouth. "Sometimes, Miss Sanders, you are entirely too much the scientist."
Was that humor she heard in his voice?
Before she could decide, his lips were on hers, softly, questioningly. As if he wanted an answer that went beyond words. Her hands, as of their own volition, slid around his neck, fingers slipping among the silky strands of his collar-length hair. She sighed against his mouth, and felt his arms go around her. Clasped tightly against him, she felt the hard ridge of his erection in contact with her belly, proof again that he was not impervious to her. Elation, compounded by desire, swept through Nellie. She opened her mouth to his probing tongue.
For a few moments she felt his every touch, as his hands swept up her back, then she was only aware of him, surrounding her, enclosing her, cherishing and caressing her. Heat gathered in her lower body, flooded through her as he kissed her face, her neck. His agile fingers loosened the knot of braid at her nape and combed through it until her hair flowed over her shoulders like a cape.
Swept up on a sea of sensation, she let him lift her, carry her, lay her down on blankets that smelled of him. She felt the chill of mountain air as he unbuttoned her blouse, the tug of his hands at the waist of her split skirt.
"How many layers have you got on?" he muttered, as he found the waistband of her petticoat and unbuttoned it.
Before she could answer, he'd tugged both garments down her legs and tossed them aside. Then he worked her blouse off her shoulders, leaving her clad only in her linen camisole and drawers. She pressed her knees together tightly, ashamed of the moisture that had gathered between her legs and now soaked her drawers.
She might as well have been naked, for her skin burned wherever his gaze touched her. Heat rushed to her face and the heat in her belly spread through her until her face was burning up.
Then his hands were on her again, only this time hungry and demanding. He cupped her breasts, kneaded them with long, callused fingers, flicking his thumb across swollen, sensitive nipples. Nellie heard herself cry out as she arched her back, thrusting her aching breast closer to him.
Oh my God! His mouth closed on the peak of her breast, wetting the fine linen of her camisole. He suckled, until she thought her very soul would be pulled from her body. Something immense, inexorable seemed to loom over her, ready to carry her away. At first she fought it, then gave in to its rush and let it carry her along, aware only of the tumult he engendered within
her.
After a timeless instant, he transferred his attention to the other breast. Nellie had thought nothing could be more exquisitely painful than his mouth on her, until he gently took her nipple between his teeth and ran his tongue over the captured bud.
The looming immensity crashed over her, in wave after wave of orgasmic rapture.
He held her while she shuddered and gasped, held her while the world righted itself and her breath slowed, her heart ceased its pounding.
His body was taut, so taut it vibrated.
Although her eyelids seemed to have grown infinitely heavy, Nellie forced them open and looked at him. She wanted--no, she needed to see his eyes, to read his thoughts.
Moonlight showed his face to her, as he lay propped on one elbow at her side. Showed lines beside his mouth, as if he was in pain. His eyes looked even more deep-set than usual, and his brows were drawn low over them.
Of course! He had no release!
Guiltily she touched his face. "Mr. Bradley--"
With one hand he caught hers, kissed her fingertips. "My name is Malachi." Although his voice was hoarse, it was steady.
Nellie couldn't help but smile. "It would be rather absurd to remain formal, wouldn't it? Malachi, then. I'm not certain what I should do, but I am aware that my or...our recent activity..." Heat as great as that of passion flamed in her face. "Oh, for pity's sake! What I am trying to say is that it is your turn now."
Once again he kissed her fingers. "This isn't a competition. There are no 'turns'."
"Don't be ridiculous. You gave me great pleasure, and it is only fair that I reciprocate." She raised up and faced him, her position mirroring his.. "The only problem is, I am not quite sure what I should do. I mean, well, I've never..."
He laughed. Out loud. At her.
"Well, after all, it's not as if I am experienced..." she began, before he pushed her onto her back and kissed her with great thoroughness. To her great amazement, the fire of passion she had thought quenched began to glow once more in her belly.
"Just be yourself, Nellie Sanders. You're more than enough for any man." Once again he captivated her with his kisses, as his clever mouth touched her here lightly, there roughly, with a hint of teeth, He brushed the ribbon-laced straps of her camisole off her shoulders and tugged it downwards, baring her breasts to his gaze.
"Beautiful," he breathed, before kissing a path between them. His chin pushed the fine fabric aside, and she felt the rasp of his whiskers against tender skin. "Why do women use these little bitty buttons on their unmentionables?" he said, working the top one free of its buttonhole.
With the ease of long practice, she had the buttons open in a twinkling. "The better to discourage ardent suitors."
His hand slipped inside the open crotch of her drawers, rested on the curve of her belly, warm and strange against her skin. Yet it felt right! Slowly he moved lower, until his fingers tangled in the fluff of hair that protected her feminine self.
She caught his hand, embarrassed again at the state she was in.
He went absolutely still. "Did I hurt you?"
"No!" She took a shuddering breath. "Oh, no! But I...you..." she buried her face in his shirt. "I'm wet," she whispered.
His fingers found the wetness. "Oh, yes!" he breathed. They stroked and rubbed, evoking the looming intensity again, until Nellie writhed under his touch. "Wait!" she gasped. "Please! Wait!"
"I am hurting you."
"No! Oh, Mr. Brad-- Malachi, please! Please let me..." She didn't know the words, other than the crude terms she had overheard students use. "I want to make you feel as I did."
"You're sure?" His tone was intense. "You want to?"
"Well of course. Wasn't that what you were talking about when you said you wanted me?"
His mouth dropped open and he stared at her. The moonlight was bright enough now that she could see the blue of his eyes, as they looked straight into her hers. "You know we can't do it right?"
"If you mean we cannot copulate, yes, I know that. I have no desire to become pregnant. But don't men...I mean...isn't there some way... Oh, piffle! This is ridiculous. I know the anatomical terms, but I have no idea of how to say this in plain English." She looked away from him, stared over her shoulder at the lake gleaming in the moonlight. "Malachi, I would be happy to help you ejaculate, if you will only show me what to do."
Malachi bit his lip, doing his best to contain the laughter that threatened to break forth. For a lady, she was far too wise in ways most ladies would die before even thinking of. Innocent and scientist. Candid and shy. A delight to his senses and to his mind, for she challenged him as strongly as she attracted him.
He looked at her profile, for her face was still turned away from him. She was chewing her bottom lip, as he'd often seen her do in times of anxiety. He'd bet his bottom dollar she was burning up with embarrassment.
Well, so am I. He wasn't sure he could tell her--or show her--what to do. Yet he wanted her hands on him, wanted to feel them clasped around his cock. He wanted her mouth on him, too, her tongue...
He chopped off that thought before it could go to completion, and take him with it. "I'll be right back." The short walk to fetch his rifle--he'd been a fool to leave it lay so far out of reach--cooled his desire only a little. He sat down again, laying the rifle next to the bedroll. Beside it he laid his pistol.
She was still sitting where he had left her, all rolled into a ball with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. "Nellie?"
She did not look at him. "Yes?"
"Undress me."
Her head swept around and she stared him straight in the face. "Undress you?" Her voice was almost a squeak. "You want me to undress you?"
"Oh, yes." More than anything.
"Well, I supposed..." She went to her knees and bent over him. Her fingers touched his bandana, tugged the knot loose. Slowly she drew it from around his neck.
"Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Because I have to pull off your boots, and I have almost no clothes on."
The moon was almost full and well above the treetops now. It shone full on her bared breasts, showing their darker crests clearly. His hands had told him that they were full, round, but he was surprised at their lush appearance. She was not a skinny woman, but well fleshed, with a tiny waist swelling into wide, rounded hips.
He had never dreamed there could be such splendor, such female abundance under the dark, shapeless clothing she wore. Even today, clad in the split skirt she'd admitted to fashioning recently, she had looked dumpy.
She was no such thing! "Suppose I want to watch you?"
"Why would you? I am hideous!"
"Hideous? Great God, woman, where did you get an idea like that?" He sat up, took her face between his palms. "You are beautiful. So beautiful you make me ache for you." Staring into her eyes, he willed her to believe him.
"I'm...I'm splotched. Look at me!" Pulling free of his hands, she held out her arms, then drew them in and ran her hands lightly over her torso. "Look! Here!" She lay a hand on her ribs, just below her right breast.
Despite the bright moonlight, he could see nothing unusual, but he imagined that there was a colorless patch similar to those on her face.
She turned her back to him. "Look here," she cried, as she lowered her drawers a couple of inches, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of a round, lush bottom, before she jerked them back to her waist. "All the way down! Ugly, white splotches!"
Facing him again, she sat back on her heels. "There is no place on my body that I don't have these horrible splotches. Even on my toes, my fingers!" She clawed her fingers before his face. "See! See how ugly they are?"
Malachi caught and held her shaking hands. "What I see are some pale spots on skin like satin. They don't change how you feel, or smell, or taste. They don't change who you are, just how you look." Releasing her hands, he touched the patch of white just under her left eye. "When I first saw this, I thought 'What a shame!' but I stopped
noticing it in a few minutes. I'll bet most people do the same."
"But Uncle says--"
"Your Uncle is a cantankerous old curmudgeon who rarely has a kind word for anyone."
Her eyes grew wide and she put the fingers of one hand to her mouth. The ghost of a smile touched her lips and she said, "He is, isn't he? And you're right, he isn't often kind." She shivered.
Immediately he realized that the night had grown chilly. He pulled her to his chest, flipped the edge of the blanket over them both. When she tried to pull away, he said, "Hold still. I'll warm you."
Her body was soft atop his, and he felt himself grow hard again.
She must have felt it too, for she said, "I was supposed to undress you."
"In due time. Let's get you warmed up first."
She nestled her head under his chin. Malachi had never felt anything so right, so perfect as her body sprawled across his, her hair tickling his nose. Despite the need that still ached in his groin, he was perfectly content to hold her like this.
After a while she said, "Do you think I'm terribly forward?"
"Not terribly. I'd say more you were wonderfully forward." When she struggled to sit up. He held her tight. "Nellie, I'm all wrong for you. I know that, and when you think about it, you'll see that I'm right. I was going to be decent and noble and stay away from you." He ran a hand down the back of her head, threaded his fingers through two feet and more of silky black hair. A faint odor of honeysuckle teased his nostrils.
"But you wouldn't let me, thank God. Even if you hate me for what happens tonight, I'll be ever grateful. I've never had...never known a woman like you."
Her voice was small and quavery when she said, "Have you known many women?"
"Not many. Whores, camp followers, or rough women in wild mining towns, mostly not what folks would call 'decent' women. Some of them were good people, generous and kind, but they weren't anything like you. A man like me doesn't get much chance to meet ladies."
"A man like you! Malachi Breedlove, you are a fine man! I'd be proud to be your...I mean I'd be proud to introduce you to anyone I know."
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