Turner's Woman

by Jenna Kernan

  He gathered his nerve and cleared his throat. She directed her smoky eyes at him. He knew she waited for him to speak, but the intensity of her regard and the topic of import combined to make him speechless. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

  “Jake, are you ill?”

  “Maybe so, but I have something to ask you.”

  “Yes?”

  Best go slow, scout the area first then slip in if the coast was clear.

  “You told me once you don’t plan to marry.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Ever?”

  “I don’t think so, but I suppose anything is possible.”

  Early signs looked good, so he inched closer to the issue.

  “You think you’ll ever be with a man?”

  He waited for her to slap his face. She straightened and shock registered in her expression. Time to pull back.

  “Because I just wondered if a woman who chooses to live single ever wants a man? I know men who never married but they take a woman now and then.”

  “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “I just wondered if men are the only ones who feel the occasional need for companionship.”

  “I think you and I have rather a different definition for companionship. For me it means company. For you, well, not keeping company.”

  “Keeping company is one way to describe it.”

  Her eyebrows knit. “I’ve never had such a discussion, but since you raised the question, I have one for you. Have you fallen prey to such urges?”

  “Prey?” He laughed. “A time or two.”

  “Two?”

  “Emma, a man doesn’t kiss and tell. I’ve been with a woman, more than one. But that’s all I’m saying.”

  She nodded as if he’d confirmed her low opinion of him. “Indians?”

  “Some.”

  Her eyebrow lifted at that. “Married?”

  “Never.” Though the first woman he’d ever bedded had been a widow and a client of his father’s. His pappy had settled her estate and he’d settled the itch she could not scratch. She’d taught him a great deal about women, including some very important lessons on how to enjoy lovemaking without risk of a baby.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What about a virgin?”

  His throat suddenly went bone-dry and swallowing brought no relief. That was one area where the widow had been of no use. He could not seem to tear his gaze away from the intent stare Emma focused upon him. He shook his head. “No.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emma could not believe this conversation. Men simply did not ask women about their urges, as he put it. As far as she knew, women were not allowed to have such things. Though it would explain the longing that took her even now. She did want to sit close to him. She dreamed of his kisses and imagined sleeping beside him every night.

  He had experience. Was he offering to initiate her into the ways between a man and woman?

  That thought made her skin tingle. Did she have urges?

  Yes.

  Admitting them was another matter. Somehow she could not resist asking him about his encounters. He’d had more already than she would have in a lifetime. That was another difference between them.

  “If I were to admit to sleeping with widowers and warriors, I’d be run out of town on a rail. But a man can do such things, even boast of them.” He made to answer but she stopped him with a hand. “I’ve heard the men in their barracks. They brag of conquests and seductions as if they would receive their stripes for such debauchery.”

  “Well they do earn them. It’s how a boy becomes a man.”

  She snorted. Women marked such things in the changes of their bodies and the blood, which she’d dealt with only last week, rinsing out her rags at night by the river. Jake knew so little about living closely with a woman he’d thought she only washed her handkerchiefs. For a man of such experience, he obviously had gaps in his education.

  “A woman does not need a man to verify her womanhood.”

  “Then she misses the pleasure of it.”

  “Pleasure!” She laughed. “Have you ever witnessed a birth?” She regarded him sharply.

  He shook his head.

  “Ever changed a diaper?”

  He grimaced.

  “I have. Your pleasures come at great cost.”

  His gaze was unblinking. “Babies can be avoided.”

  She stilled. Did he jest? He looked very serious. Were such things possible? Excitement dimpled her skin. She believed that a baby came of all interaction between a man and woman. That was what mother had told her when she was young. “Careful of your skirts, Em. If a man gets under them, he’ll put a baby in your belly. Wait until after you marry or you’ll shame us.”

  Jake sat still and expectant, staring at her like a hungry wolf. Soon they’d be back in civilization. They would again be under the rules of society and the church.

  But tonight she was still free.

  “How?”

  Jake wanted her. His body was rigid with it. But the caution of the wilderness coursed strong in him. Despite what she said, he doubted very much he could make love to her and then get clear.

  It never worked out that way. No strings attached, that’s what the widow had told him, but she’d blown like a northeastern wind when he’d broken it off. Helen traded her body for marriage. He’d met squaws who performed the same service for a knife blade. Invisible strings were there, always.

  Emma looked at him with a mixture of longing and fear. His breathing changed, coming rough and fast, as if his body was already anticipating the pleasure, wanting it more than anything, until the need blotted out all reason.

  He leaned forward and she lifted her chin to accept his kiss. Her mouth pressed to his and her arms flew about his neck, trapping him to her. He dragged her across his lap, raining kisses down her throat as she made small moaning sounds that fired his blood. He tugged at her belt and managed to pull the wide band of leather away. His hands slid over her hip, leaving the leather of her skirts to venture over the soft, flat skin of her belly. The heat of her startled him. He traveled over the ridges of her ribs and paused at the sloping mound of her breasts. She writhed, more than anxious for his touch. He gave it to her, blanketing the soft flesh with his hands.

  She arched against him at the pressure he gave. Her nipples pebbled beneath his palms and he dipped to take another kiss. This was no light brushing of lips. He held her to him, demanding entrance to her mouth. Her lips parted and his tongue slid within, claiming her.

  His body beat in a rising wave of desire. He cautioned himself to turn back and cursed as he knew it was already too late.

  Emma lay across his lap, clinging and writhing. He’d never wanted a woman this much, needed to claim her as his. He would be the first and the last.

  That thought and the implications of his feelings brought some semblance of cognition.

  “Emma, are you sure you want this? Tell me. Tell me now.”

  She shook her head and gripped the front of his buckskin, drawing him forward.

  “Teach me,” she whispered.

  She wanted him and he was lost. The truth of it worked like a drug, moving through his body, filling him and readying him to make her his.

  He drew her upright, pulled away her buckskin shirt. In the firelight he saw the beauty of her form and his breath caught. He gazed on perfect orbs with budding nipples, a slender torso and the dimple of her navel. He clasped her waist and followed it to the toggle at the side, working the bit of bone through the slit with clumsy fingers.

  She stood before him and released the hooks and buttons of three petticoats, then slid from her moccasins.

  He reached for the ribbon laces of her pantaloons and dragged them forward releasing the bow. The waist gaped, revealing the dark thatch of curls at the juncture of her thighs. She dropped the last curtain that separated them and let it fall. He sat back in wonder at the perfect picture of feminine beauty she present
ed.

  “Do I please you?” she asked. The nervous tension in her voice, the doubt made her seem more vulnerable.

  A virgin—beautiful, lush and nervous.

  “I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

  He reached for her, but she evaded. “I’d like to see you. I’ve never seen a man, all of him, I mean.”

  “You saw me at the river.”

  She blushed. “That was different. You were…resting.”

  “I was asleep and you were spying.”

  Her blush deepened as he stood and tugged off his moccasins. He carefully laid aside the pistol, powder horn and knife and then drew off his shirt. Then he stood, barefooted, wearing only his breeches. His gaze met hers. She stood still as stone. Her attention seemed fastened upon his chest. His pulse pounded, sending blood to all the appropriate regions as her gaze dipped to his skin breeches, made tight by his arousal.

  He gripped the waist and released the attachment, then slid them down and off his body, letting the garment fall upon her discarded skirts. He watched her eyes travel over him, relishing her gaze nearly as much as her touch. When her attention reached his sex, her eyes went wide as she stepped away. It was why he had hesitated to let her see him. He feared she would recoil.

  “Don’t be afraid.” He extended his hand. “You have to trust me, Emma.”

  Their fingers touched. The strength of her grip startled him. He needed to go slow.

  “Come lie with me.” He led her to the pile of furs, thinking this the perfect place, the perfect time for Emma to know the touch of a man. He thanked the fates that he would be the one.

  He sank to the furs, letting the soft wolf skins caress him as he guided her down beside him. He closed his eyes, held her tightly to his chest and touched heaven as he felt her arms encircle his waist. All the weeks and months of wanting fell away. She was his. He lowered his head and kissed her with all the passion in his soul.

  His lips demanded. His tongue sought access. Emma parted her lips and felt his tongue glide over her own. He delved within as she trembled against him.

  His fingers caressed her throat. One hand continued to travel down her shoulder and back as the other moved to cup the swell of her breast. Her nipple contracted into a hard point, as she pressed herself more firmly into his hand and sighed.

  She drew him as close as the power in her arms allowed, molding to him like hot wax. His hands strayed to the gentle sway of her hips and slid behind to cup her pear-shaped bottom.

  Her gaze never left his. She saw the pleasure her body gave him reflected in his eyes. She relished the gentle touch of his hand as it brushed her hip. For the first time she enjoyed the aching want, knowing at last, it could be fulfilled. Her body trembled with need. Her eyes beckoned.

  “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  He smiled. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he whispered as he drew her close once more.

  “Prettier than your other women?”

  “They do not even match your shadow.”

  Slowly, he caressed her from shoulder to thigh.

  She drew her bottom lip through her teeth as she considered his physical readiness. His size frightened her, but the desire to feel his male shaft sparked within her.

  “I want to touch you,” she whispered.

  “You’re already touching me.”

  She cast her glance down and heard his sharp intake of breath. Her face heated. She had shocked him with her boldness.

  Reaching, he captured her hand and pressed it firmly against his erection. As her trembling fingers encircled him, he groaned.

  “You don’t know the power you have. You could unman me with the simplest caress.”

  He rolled her to her back into the plush furs and parted her thighs with a knee. His hand stroked her breasts. A sheen of sweat broke over her skin and she saw his body shimmered with moisture, as well. He caressed her as his mouth descended to kiss her breast. She writhed beneath him in sweet torment. She pressed herself hard against his suckling mouth, wanting more. His hand descended lower, traveling across her belly. She trembled as sweet sensation rippled from his feathery touch. Her body braced as his seeking fingers traveled through the curls between her legs. The sharp, stabbing pleasure caused her to cry out. He fondled her, parting the folds of flesh. She felt moisture issue from her and wiggled to escape.

  “Let me touch you.”

  The longing in his voice stirred her soul. She could deny him nothing. She relaxed and he stroked her, gliding over her slippery flesh. The pleasure intensified with each caress adding to the growing ache within her. She bucked and clawed at his shoulders needing him, desperate for their joining. She felt him move between her legs. His hands grasped her hips. He called to her.

  “Emma, look at me.”

  Drugged by his ministrations, she opened her heavy-lidded eyes.

  Why had he stopped? She whimpered, longing for the pleasure of his touch. She rocked her hips invitingly and felt his male flesh press against her. Her eyes opened wide as she stared into the intensity of his gaze. His jaw tensed and she understood he would take her. Her eyes widened, but she nodded her consent.

  He held her hips firmly and with one liquid thrust claimed her as his own. She cried out as the thin veil of maidenhood tore away. The pain was sharp and transient, replaced by the insistent, throbbing need to move. Still gazing into his clear eyes, she began to rock her hips, in a movement as old as woman.

  Emma watched a look of agony move across his features. He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms about her. Fiercely, he pinioned her beneath him. His hand descended to caress as he moved in fluid strokes, designed to drive her mad. The pleasure grew to sweet agony.

  “Help me. Oh, Lord, I can’t bear it.”

  His thumb flicked over her and the throbbing delight broke loose. She arched as shimmering sensation flowed outward from his touch. Her cries faded and she fell to the furs. As the echoes of delight receded, she opened her eyes and found him frozen, an expression of intense pain etched in the lines of his face. She reached for him but he stopped her with his voice.

  “Don’t move. Keep still, Emma.”

  He lowered his forehead to her as she lay motionless, but for her heart beating in wild terror.

  She felt his shaft throbbing deep within her body. She longed to rock against him, but he forbade her. Something was wrong.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “Shhh,” he breathed.

  Then in a frantic withdrawal, he jerked away, gripping himself as if his male flesh were an attacking snake. He fell forward on to her and she felt a warm gush of fluid at the same moment he cried out her name.

  She held her breath as her heartbeat drummed in her ears, still afraid to move.

  “God, that was close,” he moaned. “I’ve never—I almost. Dear God.”

  She listened to his mumblings, but could make no sense of them. “What happened?”

  He lifted his heavy torso from her and smiled. His fingers brushed the hair from her face.

  “Are you all right, Emma? Did I hurt you too much?”

  In her concern for him, she quite forgot to think about herself.

  “I’m, yes, I’m well.” Her face heated as images and memories of the sensations collided with her reaction to him. “I never felt anything like that. I thought I’d die for a moment.”

  He smiled. “Coupling can be dramatic.”

  No wonder the soldiers were always after her to slip away to some secluded spot. She’d never gone. Now she was very glad—happy that the first time was with this man.

  “Is it always like that?”

  He gave a tired smile and chuckled, making her feel dumb as a fence post.

  “No. That was special.”

  She wondered suddenly how she compared to his other women, but could not bring herself to ask.

  “Did you enjoy it?” she asked.

  He laughed at that. “Couldn’t you tell I did? You nearly ma
de me lose control.”

  She gazed at him in bewilderment, not understanding what occurred. “I think I lost control.”

  He nodded. “You definitely did. That’s good for a woman. But not so good for a man.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  He rolled to his side, drawing her along. She felt the rumble in his chest as he laughed softly. “No, it doesn’t hurt. But if I lose control, my seed comes. You understand?”

  She shook her head. How could she be so ignorant? She didn’t understand a word of what he was telling her. Her mother had never spoken to her of such things. Emma had still been a child when she’d left. One finger beneath her chin brought her back to meet his gaze.

  “Emma, look at me. If I lose control while inside you, then my seed is released. You could have a baby.”

  She sat upright, understanding falling like a bucket of ice water. The warm lethargy and the lovely contentment dissolved as the implications of her actions slammed into her like a fist. When the passion came, she’d forgotten all about consequences in her mad rush to experience his touch. How could she?

  Her hands covered her mouth. “I completely forgot.”

  “Easy to do when involved with a man.”

  “If you hadn’t, we could.” She fell to the furs. “Will it be all right?”

  “Yes, Emma.” He drew her close. “There’s no danger.”

  But there was. He was a danger, because now she knew she could not trust herself. In moments of passion, reason and judgment both deserted her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emma chose to sleep in her buffalo robe across the fire after their lovemaking. Jake let her go, glad not to have her there beside him to remind him of his weakness. He tossed, restless, through the night and then waited for the dawn.

  He’d never been so close to making such a colossal mistake. She took away all his long-learned control.

  My God, he’d almost lost his seed within her like some green boy, instead of a man of experience. She trusted him and he’d nearly failed her. He saw the look of shock and knew she understood how close they’d come to disaster. Never, not once since his very first time had a woman so overwhelmed him. But that first time was marked by inexperience. He could not place the blame in that account again.