by Hale Deborah
“Go ahead and yell, Yankee,” said the doctor. “Lord above knows you’ve got good cause. I’m sorry I have to do this, but there’s no help for it.”
“Don’t want to wake up the children,” Manning muttered through clenched teeth. Then a blanket settled over his shoulders and he heard Caddie’s voice just behind him. “Do you have anything you can give him for the pain, Dr. Mercer?”
“Laudanum’s too dear these days,” the doctor grunted, “but I have a flask of whiskey in my bag that you’re welcome to. Wish I’d thought of it sooner. It’s home brew and mighty strong, so don’t go giving him too much.” Manning could hardly remember the last time he’d tasted whiskey. It was long before coming to Sabbath Hollow, which now seemed like a whole other lifetime.
When he smelled the reek of raw spirits, he pursed his lips, eager for anything that might numb him. The first swallow burned all the way down, as though it had been distilled from hot coals.
He gasped and choked, then begged, “More.”
The second drink went down a little easier than the first. The third easier still. By the time Dr. Mercer had cleaned and bandaged his hands, Manning had taken several more swigs. His hands still pained, but he felt as if the sensation was reaching him from a long distance away.
He even thanked the man for putting him through hell. “Don’t mention it, Forbes.” Dr. Mercer spoke with a kind of gruff camaraderie. “I’ve often thought I’d like to be paid to torture a Yankee. Get some rest, you hear?” Manning lolled back in his chair as a lazy warmth kindled in his belly. He heard Caddie’s anxious tone as she asked the doctor what she could do.
“Anything that might take his mind off the pain. Even with the whiskey, I doubt he’ll get much sleep tonight. Keep the wounds good and clean. Change the bandages as often as he’ll let you. Call me if you see any sign of infection. Fortunate nobody else was hurt. Any notion how that fire got started?”
“I have more than a notion.” The cold rage in Caddie’s voice sent an answering chill down Manning’s back. “And I expect you do, too, Doctor. I’ve got plenty of witnesses who heard my brother-in-law going on about how sawmills and fire don’t mix, flicking his cigar ashes around.”
“Be careful about pointing fingers, child,” advised the doctor. “Lon may talk big, but he’d never do worse than talk.”
“Talk all the neighbors into turning against us,” Caddie fumed. “Talk the tax collector into coming after us. Maybe Lon just talked somebody into setting a little fire near the mill.”
Perhaps it was just his whiskey-addled brain, but that didn’t make sense to Manning. Lon had been given his share of the family silver—why should he continue to cause trouble for them?
Manning puzzled over it as Caddie and the doctor moved out of earshot and a door opened and closed in the distance.
“Is that whiskey doing you any good?” Caddie asked when she returned to the kitchen. She sounded hesitant—almost timid.
Manning raised his heavy eyelids and peered at her. The steady downpour on their drive from the mill had washed the soot from her face. She looked cold, wet tired, bedraggled and so beautiful he could hardly stand it.
He tried to remember why he was supposed to fight the desire she kindled in him. The reason wafted just beyond the reach of his suddenly sluggish mind, dancing like a windblown scrap of paper. A letter, the writing of which he could no longer decipher...
When Caddie’s fine aristocratic brows drew together in a look of concern, he realized she was waiting for an answer to her question. What had the question been? Oh yes—about the whiskey and whether it had dulled his pain.
“Some.” His tongue felt thick and awkward, as if it, too, had been blunted by the whiskey. “My hands still hurt, but I don’t care so much.”
“In that case I reckon you’d better get out of those wet clothes and into a warm bed.”
Yes sir, Doc Mercer’s potent moonshine had managed to dull his pain, his memory and his reflexes—everything but his desire. That it had sharpened like a knife on a whetstone.
“There’s only one way I’ll be able to shuck these clothes.” Manning lifted his bandaged hands. A slow, befuddled smile spread across his face. “That’s if you take them off me.”
Chapter Fifteen
TAKE HIS CLOTHES off? The notion nearly toppled Caddie onto her backside.
She’d never so much as unfastened one of Del’s collar buttons. Not even when... Her tinder-dry mouth suddenly watered and a mellow heat shimmered between her legs.
Hadn’t she been hoping for a chance to consummate this marriage, if only Manning would cooperate? His drowsy, teasing grin and the improbable gleam of admiration in his eyes told her he’d be more than cooperative tonight.
Now that this golden opportunity had presented itself, a host of doubts tempered Caddie’s eagerness. What did she know about seducing a man, after all? What if he woke tomorrow morning angry with her for taking advantage of his drunken state?
She sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Let’s worry about getting you upstairs to your bed before we bother about clothes. With that much home brew in your belly, you won’t likely be too steady on your feet. Can you stand up?”
Manning tried. He got halfway to his feet before collapsing back onto the chair like Varina’s new stuffed doll.
“Guess I’m going to need a little help with that, too.” He sounded cheerfully resigned to the prospect.
Perhaps he wasn’t in any shape to make use of her tonight, anyway. Caddie tried to ignore a pang of disappointment.
Kneeling beside Manning’s chair, she wedged her shoulder under his arm and slid her own arm around his waist He felt lean and solid to her touch. Though the rain had scoured away the worst reek of smoke and sweat, a provocative trace of it still lingered.
“All right then.” She didn’t trust herself to turn her face and look at him with such a dangerously short distance between his lips and hers. “On the count of three. One... two...”
“Thu-ree!” Again Manning faltered halfway up, but by that time, Caddie had planted her feet under her and was able to steady him until he could rise the rest of the way.
“Do you feel dizzy?” she asked, savoring the pleasant weight of him listing against her.
“A bit.”
Well, he wasn’t the only one. His nearness set her head spinning as surely as a swig of moonshine. “Reckon you can walk?”
“I’ll try.”
His long arm hooked around her neck and his hand dangled down over her bosom. Not that it could get up to a whole lot of mischief, burned and bandaged as it was. Still, imagining how his strong bronzed hand might feel on her soft pale breast set a delicious hum of desire through Caddie’s flesh.
Gracious! If she didn’t do something to distract herself from such carnal thoughts, she might let Manning fall to the floor with her on top of him.
“Come on, then.” They staggered off into the darkened house toward the stairs. Their slow, weaving progress gave Caddie too much time to savor her contact with Manning.
She cleared her throat and forced out the words. “We got interrupted before I could apologize.”
A cold rain of shame fell on the smoldering embers of her attraction. What kind of hypocrite preached to her children about the importance of good manners, only to commit the most grievous invasion of privacy?
“I’m sorry I went into your room and pried into matters you’d rather keep to yourself.” Apologies didn’t come easy to her, but it galled her pride a little less, begging Manning’s pardon when she didn’t have to look into his eyes.
“Should’ve told you myself,” he murmured. “Right from the start... only...”
Only. That one word held a lifetime of wistfulness, spoken in that soft deep rumble she’d grown to like so well. With his lips so close to her ear, the sound of his voice had all the intimacy of a touch. Or a kiss.
“Only?” Husky with emotion, her own voice emerged in almost as deep a timbre
as his. She could no longer resist the temptation to turn her face toward him.
His whiskeyed breath caressed her face. “You had more than enough reasons to turn me down.” In the softest whisper, as if a thought had escaped directly from his mind, he added, “And I sure did want to marry you.”
He wanted her? Not just as one of the inconvenient trappings of a business arrangement, but as a wife? As a woman? The thought made Caddie’s knees tremble.
Without a single pair of reliable legs beneath them, they collapsed onto the stairs. Neither of them seemed to notice.
Her lips found Manning as his came searching for her. Unlike the night he’d returned from Washington, this time neither was taken by surprise. Unless by the intensity of their kiss. Why had she never noticed his full, sensuous lower lip? Now Caddie doubted she’d ever see it again without wanting to kiss him.
Their kiss was raw and potent, like the taste of sour mash on his breath, and every bit as intoxicating. She opened her mouth to him. Their tongues tangled, both ripe for conquest and surrender.
Caddie’s whole world wobbled on its axis. Even after five years of marriage and two children, she’d never imagined kissing a man could feel like this, or that it could ignite such a blaze of sensation in the rest of her body.
She pried her lips away from Manning’s long enough to release a gasping whisper. “We can’t... ooh...”
Deprived of her lips, Manning nuzzled her neck just below her ear. The sweet torment made Caddie want to crawl out of her skin. Or at the very least, out of her clothes.
She tried again. “We can’t spend the night... here on the stairs.”
Manning kissed his way up her throat to her chin. “Right now, I wouldn’t care if I was lying on a bed of nails.”
“It’s the whiskey.”
He dipped his head to rest on her bosom. “I don’t think so.”
Caddie’s voice stuck in her throat. She rubbed her cheek against his hair, which was still damp and smelled of smoke. She struggled to bring her breath, her voice and her raging emotions back under control. One of them had to be practical, and Manning was clearly in no shape for it.
“Will you be a good fellow and come up to bed?”
He heaved a sigh of perfect contentment. “I like it here just fine.”
“What if I...” Could she say it? “... promise to stay and keep you company once we get there?”
He swiped his jaw across the bust of her dress, over the stiff peaks of her breasts, which strained against the top of her corset. “Now that puts a whole different complexion on things.”
Hooking his elbow over the banister, he gained his feet, hauling Caddie upright with him. They continued their lurching ascent, though much more rapidly than before. Had Manning been dawdling to prolong their closeness? Caddie wondered.
Or had she?
Near the top of the stairs he teetered for a moment, and she feared he’d crash all the way down, breaking his neck. At the last second, he caught his balance and charged the final few steps to the second floor.
“Shush, now,” he whispered to her, as though he wasn’t the one making most of the noise. “We don’t want to wake the young’uns.”
He chuckled, and Caddie couldn’t help but smile at the sound. There was something strangely touching about hearing a person so quiet and controlled carrying on a little silly. Maybe she ought to try it herself sometime.
“I like that word—young’uns.”
She liked the warm note in his voice when he said it.
“Come on now, it’s just a few steps more.” She tugged him down the hall toward his room, before his racket roused the dog, who’d make it his business to rouse the whole house.
As they crossed the threshold of Manning’s room, a flash of lightning illuminated every nook and cranny. The little wooden box sat on top of the bureau, where he’d tossed it a few hours ago. His baptismal certificate lay on the floor where she’d dropped it.
When she’d left this room, Caddie had feared her half-marriage with Manning might be over. Now, instead, she found herself with an undeserved opportunity to make it whole. But did she dare to take that chance and risk another failure?
Thunder rumbled in the distance and the bed frame squeaked in protest as Manning collapsed onto it, his legs dangling over the side.
Maybe by the time she got his boots off, he’d be sound asleep. Then she could settle for covering him with a blanket and stealing away.
Off came one. Then the other, after some pulling. His socks were wet, so Caddie took those off, too, running her hands over Manning’s long narrow feet to warm them. Her fingertips brushed rough calluses on the ball of each foot...from marching, most likely.
Yes, he’d been a Yankee soldier, Caddie conceded, her bitterness waning. But that didn’t matter like it once had. It didn’t matter that he’d come south with most of his possessions in a rucksack—the soldier’s equivalent of a carpetbag. It didn’t even matter that he’d been born out of wedlock. Nothing mattered but the man himself, who had grown dearer to her with each passing day. If only she cared about him less, the thought of sharing his bed might not unsettle her so.
She began to wonder if he’d fallen asleep, but Manning flexed his toes. “Have I got cold feet?” His voice took on a teasing note. “Or have you?”
Fortunately the lightning didn’t flash just then to betray Caddie’s embarrassment. If the weather had been fine, the soft glow of twilight would have bathed this corner room. Tonight the storm had left it wrapped in shadows.
Thank goodness.
No matter what she’d promised him, Caddie could not have stayed if Manning had been able to see her more clearly. What a fright she must look with her hair a damp, tangled mess and smudges of soot on her face. In the last months she’d put on a little weight, but she was still too skinny. Not round and lush like Lydene.
Caddie tried to shield both her doubts and her desire behind a show of brisk practicality. “I’m surprised the two of us aren’t freezing in these wet clothes.”
As she fumbled in the shadows to unfasten Manning’s suspenders, her fingertips brushed across the lap of his trousers. Caddie’s hand flinched away, but she did manage to swallow the squeak that rose in her throat. She hadn’t been married once already without learning to tell when a man was ready for a woman.
Hearing a soft rumble, she wondered for an instant if it might be far distant thunder. Then she realized the sound had come from Manning.
“Mmm. That felt awful nice. Suppose you’d mind doing it again?”
A fierce, prickly blush started down in Caddie’s toes and swept up to the roots of her hair. She wished she’d taken a swig or two of Doc Mercer’s whiskey to calm her nerves. Why, she hadn’t been this bashful and flustered as a green virgin on her wedding night!
Of course, there hadn’t been time. It’d all been over before she knew what was happening. And Del hadn’t expected her to take any active part. Tonight would be different. Her old role as the reluctant instrument of her husband’s relief would not do.
She unfastened Manning’s suspenders with her left hand while her right hand strayed lower, passing over the firm ridge of flesh that strained beneath his trousers. When a low groan shuddered out of him, she knew better than to ask if his hands hurt.
The glow of heat between her own thighs intensified.
Light-headed from the whiskey, and without the use of his hands, Manning was at her mercy. A sense of power swelled within her—provocative, dangerous and liberating.
With a blatant caress that made him writhe beneath her, Caddie slid both her hands up to the collar of his shirt and began unbuttoning it. Now her fingers moved with deft, sure purpose. When she reached the lowest buttons, at the waistband of his trousers, she unfastened them then slid her hand down to tug the rest of his shirt free.
Acting on a daring impulse, she let her fingers wander lower and glide over the hot, smooth crown of his manhood. Her reward was his gasp of astonishment, which
subsided into a purr of pleasure.
“If this turns out to be some drunken dream, I pray to heaven I don’t wake up anytime soon.” The ragged edge of Manning’s voice drifted over her like the most arousing caress, stripping away another stifling layer of restraint.
As if powered by his will instead of hers, her left hand rose to the bosom of her blouse and tugged it open. Caddie’s pulse sped to the wild tempo of the rain as it lashed against the window.
Suddenly impatient with her own layers of clothing, she interrupted her sweet torment of Manning to peel off everything but her shimmy and drawers. Then she pulled the pins from her hair and shook her head until it cascaded over her shoulders.
As the lightning blazed again, Caddie saw an answering flicker in Manning’s eyes. She also caught a glimpse of his bare chest through the open front of his shirt. A thatch of dark hair laced across those firm bowed muscles lured her to touch. His skin was hot and smooth, his chest hair crisp, yet silky.
She stroked and petted him, deliciously shocked by the thrill of exploring a man’s body. And when her hands had sated themselves, she grew unbearably brazen, whispering her lips over him, resting her cheek above his heart, savoring the thunderous throb of his pulse, which she had excited.
He pressed his chin into her hair, making soft crooning noises that set her aquiver.
“I fear I’m going to die of delight before you get done with me, woman.”
“Funny, you don’t sound scared.”
When Caddie lifted her face to answer, Manning strained forward and claimed a kiss. It wasn’t as fierce and wild as the one they’d unleashed at the foot of the stairs, when their long-checked attraction had broken its bonds. This time was slow, deep and sensual.
In a past that now seemed too far removed to have been her childhood, Caddie’s family had always summered at the luxurious sulfur springs resorts in the Blue Ridge Mountains. She hadn’t thought of that in years.
Now she immersed herself in Manning’s kiss as she’d once relaxed in the hot water with soft warm mud oozing between her toes and tiny bubbles of gas tingling on her skin. Even the faint smell of smoke that clung to them both revived memories of the pungent odor surrounding the springs.