He heard what she almost said, and he was going to pretend he hadn't. From everything she'd said, Nellie Sanders was a woman hungry for affection, the kind that fell in love with the first man who paid her some attention.
What he was doing to her tonight was bad enough, without encouraging her in impossible dreams. God forgive me, I haven't the strength to leave her alone. He stared up at the stars, made dim by the light of the full moon. As usual, there were no answers to be found written there, only imaginary patterns he'd learned long ago, at his father's knee.
"I'm warm now." Her wiggle told him exactly what she had in mind.
Malachi tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her face so he could see it. "Do I have to close my eyes?"
Even in the moonlight, he saw how she blushed. "I've never been unclothed with anyone but my mother, not in my whole life."
"All you have on now is your bloomers and your stockings. Does it make that much difference?"
"They're draw-- Oh! You're teasing!" With a hand to his chest, she pushed herself to a kneeling position and grinned like a little kid. "Perhaps I'll just leave your boots on. I could push your britches down around your knees, and you'd be helpless."
He caught her stockinged ankle and manacled it with his fingers. "Try it," he dared. While she fought, laughing, to get free, he slipped his hand up her calf, to the garter just above her knee. The ribbon knot resisted his tugging.
"Let me," she said, her hands covering his.
"No. Leave it. But take off your bloomers."
"Will you take off your boots?"
Without a word, Malachi released her and bent forward to tug off his boots, making sure the knife stayed in its secret sheath. Setting them aside, he leaned back on his elbows. "Your turn."
"You said there were no turns."
"This is different. Please?"
Lower lip between her teeth, she rose again to her knees. She stared straight at him as she slowly let her drawers drop, then worked her way out of them.
Malachi's breath caught in his throat as the moonlight gleamed on her ivory skin. She was so lovely, just looking at her hurt. He wanted her so badly the hunger was an actual pain in his gut.
Tonight he would put aside his scruples and take what she offered. Tomorrow, he'd deal with his better judgment.
Lying still while she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt was like waiting for a battle to begin--his heart pounded, his breath grew shallow. When her hands went to his fly, he licked lips with a tongue gone dry. And when her hand brushed his cock through the thick denim of his britches, it leapt with a painful intensity. He groaned.
Instantly her hands were still. "Did I hurt you?"
"Yes!"
Her brows drew together, her chin quivered. Quickly he caught and held her hand against his britches, knowing it could be like touching a match to a short fuse.
"No. No, Nellie, not that way. There's hurt that isn't. It's like...well, it's like when you're really thirsty, and you take that first sip of sweet, cool water. It hurts. But it's good, so good you wonder if anything will ever be that good again." There was a good chance she wouldn't even have to open his britches for him to go off. Carefully he moved her hand upward, so that it rested just below his ribs.
For several minutes they gazed at each other. He wished he could read what was behind her eyes that stared so intently into his. They looked black tonight, with thick, lacy rims of eyelash. The white streak in her hair gleamed like fine silver wire.
"You'll have to help me now," she said at last. "Can you sit up?"
He did and she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. Malachi was glad he'd left his longjohns behind in camp. He didn't have a single pair that wasn't frayed at the cuffs and ragged at knees and elbows.
She ran her hands lightly over his naked chest and it was like being touched with feathers. Fiery feathers that left a burning trail wherever they went. Then her hands were at his waist and she tugged at his britches.
Malachi raised himself and let her pull them down over his hips, breath hissing between clenched teeth as they slid across his aching cock. It sprang erect as soon as it was released. Her eyes grew round. It seemed to him that she couldn't stop looking while she pushed his britches over his feet. Then she'd tossed them to one side and was reaching for him.
Chapter Fifteen
There were no words to describe the feel of him. Nellie wished the moonlight were brighter, so she could see all the details of his penis, his scrotum. No drawing she had ever seen of the male sexual organs had done him justice. He was magnificent!
Carefully she traced the shape of him, from root to tip, feeling the turgid veins, the petal-soft foreskin. Almost as if it were a separate, live thing, the hard shaft jerked at her light touch. More boldly, she closed her hand around him, eliciting a groan. "A good hurt?" she whispered, fascinated with the sense of power his reaction gave her.
"If it was any gooder, I'd likely die of it," he said, strain thinning his usually deep voice.
"Tell me what to do." Was that her voice, just as thin, just as breathless?
He told her.
She did it, and found that giving him pleasure was almost as exciting to her as his caresses had been.
"My word," she whispered, when he had gone soft in her hand and his breathing slowed. "That was...well, I never thought...I see what you mean about a good hurt. You looked like you were in terrible pain."
He pulled her down beside him. Once more he tugged the edge of the blanket over her. "I wish I could show you the real thing," he said.
"Oh, so do I." What if they were to completely indulge their sexual appetites? Was there more than the bliss she had already experienced? She yawned. "My goodness, I am so sleepy all of a sudden."
His yawn echoed hers. "So am I. Let's get this blanket where it will do us some good." With a few deft moves, he had them both tucked into his bed, snug and comfortable.
Nellie noticed that before he settled down, he checked to make sure his rifle was within reach and his handgun beside his head.
* * * * *
"You go on and hunt, Buttercup. I'm gonna take me a little walk down the hill, see if My Girl's all right."
The cat stropped against her, then slunk off through the trees. He'd shared a rabbit with her last night, so she knew he was still hungry. She still had a chunk of her share wrapped up in her possibles bag. On her way down to the camp, she'd chew on that.
"Mind you leave them mules alone," she called after Buttercup. He'd taken a great interest in them, and sooner or later was apt to give her trouble.
The corral was empty. She went as close as she could to it, without getting out from under the trees, but she couldn't see a sign of life.
Wait! There was that fool cow, staked out by the big tent. Somebody was around.
She settled herself on a log, well back inside the trees, but with a view of the front of the big tent. Soon as somebody came by, she'd see 'em.
The day was hot and she nodded, drowsy and relaxed. 'Sides, she was plumb wore out. Not as young as I used to be, she mused. Buttercup had been restless last night, so they'd started traveling long before daylight. They'd 'a been here long before noon, except that they'd near run into that dam' grizzly where he was fishin' the river. Buttercup had growled and hissed until Gertie'd thought the bear would hear him. They'd ended up a long ways out of their way, just gettin' around him.
Dam' fool cat.
Along about the time the sun eased down behind the big mountain, she saw somebody comin' up from the direction of the little lake. The kid!
If he was here, then the feller in the black hat was likely off somewheres with the mules. So where's My Girl?
* * * * *
Morning came, and she woke in his arms. Nellie had not slept with anyone in memory, and she decided she could get nicely used to it. She was warm and comfortable, even though when she turned to find a new position, the blanket stayed where it was and her bottom stuck o
ut into the cold air.
The solution was to cuddle closer to Mr. Br-- to Malachi. He made a satisfied sound and kissed her ear. "Good morning."
Where was the embarrassment she should feel? Here she was, entirely undressed, in the arms of a man equally naked, and she only felt a sense of rightness. "Good morning. It's going to be a lovely day!"
"It already is." This time his kiss landed on her mouth. It was more intense, more purposeful. His penis swelled against her belly and his leg went between hers.
"Oh, God," he said, not lifting his mouth, "if only..."
"I think we might," she said, shocked--but only a little--at her boldness.
This time he lifted his mouth from hers. "Don't be foolish!"
"I'm not. I read something...I'm not sure I can remember exactly what it said, but it was something about a woman's fertile time." Closing her eyes, she tried to remember the exact words, but they escaped her. "Perhaps if I don't think about it, it will come to me." She pressed herself against him and felt the answering leap of his penis. "Distract me?"
He did.
When they finally rose, Nellie felt thoroughly content. Her face was a little sore from the scratch of his beard, her breasts felt heavy, sensitive. Her woman's parts were definitely swollen and tender, with a faint, inner throbbing that barely touched her notice. They were sensations she would not trade for the world.
She sat up, reached for her blouse. Where is my modesty? She who had been too self-conscious to show even a Vee of upper chest or an inch of skin above her wrists, was boldly and proudly showing her entire body to this man.
He thinks I am beautiful! No woman had a better reason to be proud of her body than one who was thought beautiful. If only... No, she must not indulge in wishful thinking. She wanted this summer, and he was willing to give her that. After that, she would have wonderful, precious memories for the rest of her life.
She started coffee and cooked bacon while he shaved and tended the mules. This camp cooking was not so difficult, as long as one didn't need fancy. There was still a little of the cornbread they'd bought, a bit dry, but still edible. When it was gone, he would make corn dodgers, he'd said.
They sounded terrible, but if Malachi made them, she would eat them.
When breakfast was done, they climbed to the next bench. It was as high as they could go, she saw, as soon as they reached level ground. Stunted trees half-surrounded a small lake--little more than a pond, really--that was backed by a sheer rock cliff. The water of the lake was the most incredible blue she'd ever seen, and so clear that she could see the sandy bottom perfectly.
"Are there fish here?"
"I doubt it. It's too high, and there's no way they could get here." He looked around. "Are you sure you'll find anything worth collecting here?"
"I won't know until I look. Why don't you sit there while I take a look around?" He'd carried the vasculum up the steep would-be trail for her, and now she took it from him and slipped its strap over her head and shoulder. Trowel in hand, she started through the stand of stunted, twisted firs, wishing she had a camera and the skill to use it. How she would like to be able to show this place to people back in Ohio. She had never imagined how starkly attractive an alpine area could be.
There were few flowers, although she did find a number of small, matted plants clinging to the rocky cliffs. On a rockfall, she found something that she was certain was Erysimum, well past flowering. Uncle had collected it in a similar area in Colorado. The Dryas was in flower, and so was a peculiar little plant that was probably a borage, a prickly plant with tightly coiled inflorescence. She collected everything worth taking, filling her vasculum, and a burlap bag Malachi had brought along.
Just when she'd decided there was nothing else to see, a bit of red caught her eye, tucked in a crack of the rock whence a tiny trickle dripped. "Oh! Oh, my!"
"What? Are you all right?" In an instant he was at her side. "What is it?"
"Look," she breathed, pointing. "In there!"
Carefully he leaned forward, as if something in the crack threatened him. "I don't see anything but a flower. Was it a snake?"
Nellie couldn't help but laugh. As if she would worry about snakes at this altitude. "No. Just the flower. My flower, I think." She eased in front of him. "Let me look closer."
"Be careful."
She knelt and peered inside the crack. It was no wider than six inches, moss-carpeted and secret. The sun would only reach inside near noon. As she knelt before it, another droplet of water oozed from the moss and ran over the rock lip. There must be a crack where meltwater from above collected, draining out here.
"Well?"
"Yes, it is. At least I think it is." She leaned closer, wishing the light were better. "There's only one!"
Her disappointment must have sounded in her voice, because he said, "Does that matter?"
"Yes." With a sigh, she stood up. "To me it does. Uncle gets so angry when I refuse to collect if there are fewer than five plants." The last time, he had gone back himself and taken all three of the small orchids she'd found in a swamp. She still felt guilty for telling him about them. What if they'd been the only ones anywhere?
"If you take the only one, there won't be any more," he said, almost as if the idea was new to him.
"Exactly! I know you'd understand." Setting the almost-full vasculum on the rocky ground, she said, "Would you hand me my journal and pencil? I want to draw it, at least."
For a long time she worked to capture the setting: rocky cliff, small, moss-lined cavity, line of moisture pointing upwards into the cleft--and the plant--a tiny tuft of bright green, lacy leaves, a single red and blue flower nodding above them, measuring a full inch from tip of one fringed sepal to the opposite petal. At last she was satisfied with her depiction, and set the pencil aside. As she rose, she realized her shoulders were stiff and her hands ached.
"Ready to head back?"
When Nellie looked over at Malachi, she realized that the shadow of the mountain above them had fallen across the place where they stood. It was late! "Yes. I'm sorry. I never realized..."
"Don't let it worry you. I didn't have anyplace else to go." He held out a hand and she took it, holding on until she needed both hands to help her scramble down the narrow, rock-strewn path to their campsite.
One of the snares he'd set had caught a rabbit. Malachi spitted it and set it to cook over a low fire before taking the mules to water. He'd left them loosely penned inside a fence made of ropes strung from tree to tree, not wanting to take a chance on some of them wandering off and getting in trouble. This evening he'd let them range free, to eat the succulent grasses of this high meadow.
When he returned to camp, Nellie was just putting the last of her plants into the press. "There! I'm done." She turned a smiling face to him. "What a perfect day I had. Thank you."
The joy in her face brought a lump to his throat. He would give anything if he could make her every day perfect. Kneeling beside her, he cupped her face between his palms. "Nellie Sanders, thank you. Thank you for showing me how to laugh again. I'd forgot how."
"Oh, Malachi, so had I."
He kissed her, then, as they knelt face to face at the edge of the meadow. If only there were some way they could stay like this forever, he thought, knowing he might as well wish for the moon. They had one more day, then they must go back to the base camp. One more day to make memories to last the rest of their lives.
He kissed her again.
"I wish--" she murmured against his mouth.
"What?"
"That we could--" Her arms went around his waist and her forehead leaned against his shoulder. "Oh, nothing, really. Just dreaming."
Suddenly desperate for all of her he could have, Malachi tightened his arms around her. "Then let's dream together," he said, as he pulled her tight against his swollen cock, "as long as we can."
"Oh, yes!" She leaned aback against his embrace so she could look him in the face. "I'm sure I've heard something," sh
e said, and her blush was evident even in the gathering dusk. "About a safe way--"
Her meaning was instantly clear to him. "There are no 'safe' ways," he said. "Only some that are less chancy than others." With a finger, he traced traces the line of her jaw. "I won't risk leaving you with child."
"Oh, but listen! My body is very regular, and my monthly is due..." Her voice trailed off and she buried her face against his chest.
He had to lean very close to hear the rest.
"And if you were to remove yourself..."
Could he? Would he have the gumption, the strength, to pull out in time?
"Oh, God, Nellie Sanders," he groaned, "you tempt me."
"Make love to me, Malachi. Even if it's just this one time, please, make love to me."
Together they rose to their feet. Side by side they walked to his lean-to, the stretched tarpaulin that opened to the east, so that when the full moon rose over the trees, they would be in its full light. Just next to it, they halted, faced each other.
"This is no decent bed for you. You should have satin sheets, a soft mattress, a warm fire."
Her hand lay softly against his cheek, making him wish he'd shaved again this evening. This morning her face had shown the abrasion of yesterday's growth of beard.
Her eyes were enormous as she stared up at him. "I only need you in my bed, Malachi. None of the rest matters." Her teeth caught at her lower lip as she reached for the buttons of his shirt. "Turnabout's fair," she said. "Last night you were clothed and I was naked. Tonight--" Quickly she bared his chest. "Tonight I want to be in charge."
A little later she had him where she wanted him. His body trembled from the effort he made to keep his hands quietly at his sides, to remain on his feet while she knelt before him. His kerchief was still knotted at his neck, his britches puddled around his boot tops.
"Ooops," she said, looking up at him with a grin full of devilment. "I'll bet you can't move."
"You did that on purpose."
"I did not! Anyone can forget--" She reached up and pushed.
Malachi teetered, unable to take the step backwards that would keep him upright. He sat, hard, on the spread-out blankets behind him. "You little dickens!"
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