Educating Abbie: Titled Texans -- Book Two

by Cynthia Sterling

  After dessert and coffee, he paid the tab and they rose to leave. Suddenly, the thought of going back up to his room alone was too much to bear. “I’m not ready to go upstairs yet,” he said. “Come walk with me.”

  “All right.”

  They walked out of the hotel and into a street that was lit almost as brightly as day. Light and music and people poured forth from the hotels and restaurants and theaters in the area. Except for a preponderance of cowboy boots and Stetsons among the men, they might have been on the street of any cosmopolitan city in the world. He looked down at Abbie. The streetlights glinted off the gold strands of her hair. “When you came here with your father, what did you do in the evenings, after the auction?” he asked.

  “Oh, well, we would usually go to a store for supplies, and have supper at a diner. Sometimes he’d buy me an ice cream.” She shrugged. “Then we’d walk back to the boarding house where we usually stayed, and I’d go to bed.” She looked down the street, a wistful expression on her face. “I never even knew any of this existed.”

  A breeze stirred the tendrils of hair around her face, and molded her dress to her body. Reg felt a tension in his loins at the sight of her feminine curves.

  She shivered and hugged her arms across her breasts. “Here, take this,” he said. He slipped out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, letting his hands linger on her arms. She looked fragile, vulnerable in the oversized coat. His sense of protectiveness toward her surprised him. “Perhaps we should go back,” he said.

  “No, let’s walk a little further.” She leaned close to him, so that it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to put his arm around her. They walked in comfortable silence down the lighted streets.

  She tilted her head up, looking past him, to the sky. “You can’t even see the stars from here,” she said.

  “It’s because of the bright lights.”

  She shook her head. “It’s as if they don’t exist. As if the plains and my ranch and all of that don’t even exist.”

  Reg looked at the lighted storefronts around them. “I suppose for some people, those things don’t exist.” He smiled back at her. “It’s as if we each have our own world, into which we fit best.” Which world is the one where I fit? he wondered.

  The winds gusted higher, bringing the smell of rain. “We’d best turn around,” he said, regretting that this moment of quiet companionship should end so soon.

  She nodded and clutched the jacket more tightly to her throat. They turned back into the wind, hurrying now as thunder rumbled in the distance.

  They were half a block from the hotel when rain began to fall, a driving curtain of water, lashing at them and quickly soaking their clothes. They bent their heads and tried to run, but Abbie stumbled. “Damnation!” she cried and he caught her. She wrenched from his grasp and bent to remove her high-heeled shoes. She came up with the shoes in her hand. “It may not be ladylike, but I can’t stand these one minute longer.”

  Her hair trailed in a wet stream down one cheek, and her silk gown clung to her like a second skin. Reg thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful, more desirable, in his life.

  He knew his feelings showed on his face, but he could not take his eyes from her. She blushed and looked down, at the rain running down her body in little rivers. “I can’t go back into that hotel lobby looking like this,” she moaned.

  “There’s bound to be a back way in.” He took her arm once more. “Come on.”

  They ran faster now, feet slapping in puddles on the sidewalk, his coat flapping behind Abbie like the wings of a crow. They darted into the alley beside the hotel and he swept her up in his arms.

  “What are you doing?” she protested.

  “There might be broken glass,” he said. “They throw the garbage out here.”

  She started to protest, then heard the tell-tale crunch of glass beneath his shoes. He kept close to the overhanging eave of the building, until they came to a back door, and inside it, a flight of stairs leading up.

  “You can put me down now,” she said.

  “No, it’s all right.” He enjoyed holding her too much to relinquish her yet. He began to climb. One, two, three flights. A single gas lamp marked the door at each landing. They emerged into a carpeted corridor. He checked the number on the nearest room. “Ours must be at the opposite end,” he said.

  He started to put her down, but the sound of voices approaching startled him. “Oh my God, Reg. Someone’s coming!”

  Abbie’s hair was fully undone now, and her sodden dress left little to the imagination, though she tried her best to hold his jacket around her with one hand while she carried her shoes with the other. Her stockinged feet peeked provocatively from the trailing hem of her skirt. His shirt was plastered to his back, his shoes were full of water, and he was balancing a woman in his arms. Strangers coming upon them would no doubt suspect the sort of behavior that was not condoned by fine hotels. They would be fortunate to escape arrest and ejection from the hotel; they would most certainly not escape humiliation.

  The voices grew louder, nearer. He scanned the corridor; a blank wall at one end provided no avenue for escape. The path to their rooms lay in the direction of the approaching voices. His only choice was retreat. He opened the door to the stairs and darted behind it once more.

  “Thank God no one saw us,” Abbie breathed. He lowered her legs until she was standing, though she continued to lean against him.

  “We’ll wait here a moment, give them time to leave,” he said softly. He rested his chin on her head, and waited for the loud thudding of his heart to slow.

  She smelled of damp lavender, like a cottage garden on a rainy afternoon. He inhaled deeply, wanting to memorize the aroma. Here, in the lamp-lit silence, he wanted to suspend time. As they clung together, he could feel her warmth seeping into him, kindling an answering heat inside him.

  She shifted in his arms; they were so close she could not mistake the effect she was having on him. His erection pressed firmly into her belly; he made no move to hide it.

  “Reg.” She whispered his name, her breath warming his cheek.

  He opened his eyes. In the soft glow of the light on the landing, her skin was like alabaster, her eyes dark pools. He met her gaze, and felt his heart hammer in his chest.

  He saw desire in Abbie’s eyes – not merely the raw lust a man might feel when he’s lonely and alone and a beautiful woman makes herself available to him. What he saw in Abbie’s eyes was a deeper emotion than that, a more pointed longing. Abbie didn’t just want a man – she wanted him. The realization grabbed him by the throat and threatened to squeeze the very breath from him. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sight, to ignore the revelation there. But in the darkness, her body drew him. His lips sought hers; a sigh escaped him when they touched. He rubbed his mouth across hers, allowing himself little tastes of her, as if more would be too much.

  But he couldn’t be content with such meager fair for long. He pressed his mouth to hers more firmly, coaxing her to part her lips, to allow his tongue to sweep inside and savor her sweetness.

  God, she was sweet. Warm and yielding. His heart stumbled in its rhythm as her tongue began to move in concert with his. Thrust and parry, then entangled like lovers.

  With a moan, he pulled away, trailing kisses along her cheek, her chin, down the satin column of her neck. He nibbled at the tender flesh at the base of her throat and was rewarded with a low laugh. The vibrations of her laughter passed through him, a ticklish sensation.

  She shifted against him, pressing her body closer. Her breasts were crushed against his chest. He brought one hand up to stroke the rounded flesh. Her nipple hardened at his touch, and he fondled it with his thumb, feeling the response in his groin with each sharp intake of her breath.

  He kissed the tops of her breasts where they curved at the neckline of her gown. He could see her nipples now, hard points against the fabric. Slowly – so slowly – he eased the dress d
own, pushing aside the camisole and revealing rose and cream perfection.

  When he surrounded one taut peak with his mouth, she threw back her head and sighed. He teased her with his tongue, lavishing attention on first one side, then the other. She squirmed beneath him, her short, breathy cries egging him on. The way she pressed her pelvis against his leg left no doubt she was aching for him.

  She grasped the front of his shirt and he thought at first she was trying to push him away. But when he raised his head and tried to take a step back, she pulled him toward her again, and began fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. “I want to feel you,” she whispered.

  Before he could answer, she tugged at the cloth, popping the buttons. As he watched, she parted the fabric and laid her head against his naked chest.

  Her cheek was cool against his feverish skin, her hair brushing against him like softest down. He rested one hand atop her head and closed his eyes again, savoring the moment.

  She turned her head, rubbing her face against his chest hair. His heart pounded and every nerve hummed with desire. He felt heat and dampness and realized she was trailing kisses across his chest. She found his nipple and slid her mouth over it, licking and suckling, driving him half-mad. He bit down on his fist to stifle the groan.

  The most accomplished courtesan could not have aroused him more. Her innate passion guided her; her lack of inhibition freed her to follow her feelings.

  A burst of laughter right outside the door startled them. Abbie let out a small cry and jumped back. “Shhh.” He lay a gentling hand on her shoulder. She looked toward the door and calmed. She must have realized, as he had, that the laughter came from the same group of revelers who had driven them into hiding in the first place.

  Gently, he pulled her back to him. They clung together, waiting for the revelers to pass. Reg felt her heart pound and savored the sensation of her naked breasts against his chest.

  “You. . . you don’t think they heard anything, do you?” she whispered.

  He looked down. Her eyes were wide in the dim light. She looked very young, and very innocent. He had been prepared to take advantage of that innocence, despite the hurt he might bring her later. “No, I don’t think they heard.” Gently – reluctantly – he pushed her away from him and wrapped his coat about her naked beauty. He turned his back and began to button up his shirt. “You’d best see to your dress.”

  “Reg.” He clenched his teeth as she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Reg, we don’t have to stop. I mean. . . I could come back to your room. . . “ The words ended in a question. It took every ounce of will not to turn to face her once more. But if he looked at her, he might surrender to the desire that clawed at him like a wild animal. He shook his head. “No. I will take you back to your room.”

  She took her hand away. “But – “

  “Abbie, get dressed.”

  Even to him, the words sounded harsh. But he couldn’t summon the composure to soften them. If he so much as looked at her again, he feared he would forget all propriety and morals and duty. They would become empty words in the face of his longing for her.

  He listened to the sounds of her getting dressed – the rustle of silk, the slide of wet fabric against wet skin. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her damp lavender perfume, torturing himself with the aroma.

  “All right, I’m ready.” Her voice was steady, angry even. He breathed more easily – better angry than wounded. But then he might have known Abbie would never succumb to hysterics.

  Avoiding her gaze, he opened the door and looked out. The hallway was empty, silent. He held the door wide and allowed her to pass, then followed her down the passage to their rooms, which were side by side at the end.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said, her gaze fixed on the gilt numbers on her door. “And for your coat.” She slipped the garment from her shoulders and handed it to him, only the flush of her cheeks betraying any emotion.

  “Good night,” he said as she put her hand on the knob. He leaned on the doorjamb, his shadow looming over her. He wanted her still; he would not stop wanting her for a long time. “Abbie.”

  Her eyes met his, wary.

  “Lock your door. The adjoining one, too.”

  She flushed bright red then, but nodded, and slipped inside. Reg pushed himself upright and went in search of the hotel bar.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abbie left her ruined dress in a heap by the door and slipped under the covers without turning up the lamp. Maura snored softly from her own bed across the room. Abbie buried her head under the quilts and let loose the sobs that choked her. Fool! she silently berated herself. How could she have thrown herself at Reg that way?

  He had not even been able to look at her while they dressed. He must be disgusted, she thought. She was disgusted with herself, that she had let her emotions overcome her common sense.

  She sniffed and dried her eyes on a corner of the sheet. The first part of the evening had gone so well; they had been having fun, even. She’d enjoyed looking at the lights, seeing a part of Amarillo she’d never known existed. Reg had been so dashing, offering his coat against the evening chill. And the rain – even that had been fun in its own way, running through the streets barefooted, being swept up into his arms and carried into the alley.

  She’d felt so safe in his arms, so. . . cared for. She closed her eyes against a cascade of fresh tears. Then those other feelings had started – she’d become aware of his broad chest, and felt the muscles of his shoulders shift beneath her cheek. He smelled of starched linen and shaving lotion, and another subtle scent she could only think of as male.

  She could have stayed in his arms forever, luxuriating in the feel of his body close to hers. When they’d fled the prying eyes of those people in the hall, she’d enjoyed the conspiracy of hiding out with him. And then she had looked into his eyes and seen the same desire she felt for him. Kissing him seemed the most natural, most wonderful thing in the world. And kissing had led to touching, and a whole host of new and exciting sensations.

  Reg had wanted her as much as she had wanted him. Surely he had. Even when they’d parted just now, she’d glimpsed regret and longing in his eyes. So why had he refused her?

  They were both adults, free to make their own decisions. If they both wanted each other, why was it so wrong for them to satisfy their desires?

  Yet, something had happened to make Reg change his mind. Something she’d done, or said. . . or something else altogether?

  She admitted she was ignorant in the ways of men and women. Oh, she knew the basics of breeding – you didn’t grow up on a ranch without figuring that out at an early age. She’d heard a few bawdy stories around the campfire, too, when the men thought she wasn’t listening. But she didn’t really know what a man and a woman were supposed to act like when they were in love.

  She sat up in bed and opened her eyes wide in the dark. Was she in love with Reg? They were obviously physically attracted to each other, but surely it wasn’t anything more than that. After all, they were so unsuited for each other. He was arrogant. (But didn’t she have her pride, too?) He was totally ignorant about ranching. (But he was learning.) He was accustomed to fine manners and fine living. (Surely he hadn’t seen much of that as a sailor. And what about his time in India?)

  She hugged her arms across her chest. Maybe she and Reg weren’t so different after all. They were both outsiders of a sort – he because he was a foreigner, she because she was a woman. They were both stubborn, but willing to learn. They thought alike on a lot of things – cattle breeding, for instance.

  Maybe she was in love with Reg. But that didn’t mean he was in love with her. For whatever reason, he’d turned away from her tonight, and he still intended to return to England at the end of the year. The only chance she’d had in her life for love and he was leaving. She flopped back down on the bed and pounded the pillow. It was so unfair!

  So what was she going to do about it? Hadn’t her father taught her to look for a
solution to every problem? “You have to learn to fix things yourself, girl. You can’t count on other folks always doing it for you,” he’d said. He’d been showing her how to mend a fence at the time, but surely that advice could work for her relationship with Reg as well. There had to be a way to ‘fix’ things between them. She couldn’t let him leave without at least making the effort.

  * * * *

  Reg arrived at Abbie’s door the next morning after a sleepless night, determined to make a proper apology for his behavior the night before. He’d been wrong to let things progress as far as they had. The last thing he’d meant to do was hurt her, which was exactly why he’d stopped when he had. As soon as he explained that to her, he was sure, being the practical, sensible woman that she was, she would understand. Things could return to normal between them, except that he wasn’t certain what ‘normal’ was for him and Abbie. She’d been throwing him off balance since the day they’d met. He feared he was beginning to enjoy that precarious state of affairs entirely too much.

  A stern-faced Maura answered his knock. “I’d like to speak to Abbie,” he said.

  “She isn’t in.”

  He frowned. She was out very early. “Where is she?”

  Maura studied the toes of her shoes. “I’m not certain she’ll be wanting to speak with you this mornin’, m’lord.”

  Reg stiffened. “And why is that?”

  “It’s you who should be tellin’ me, m’lord.” She cut her eyes up to him. “Maybe it’s not me place to say, but I coulda sworn the young Miss looked as if she’d spent the night crying. And then I find her new dress in a sodden heap on the floor and not one word she has to say about her evening, does she? It seems to me if a young lady has a fine dinner with a gentleman, she’d be in a mood to talk about it. But Miss Abbie was up and out of here without so much as a fare thee well this morning.” Reg’s stomach clenched at the thought of Abbie crying because of him. “Did she say where she was going?”