Miss Delwin's Delights

by Raine Cantrell

The shift of his weight drew her gaze down to the squeaking floor board. As natural as breathing her gaze followed the polished leather of his boots up the long length of his legs. Kit had firmly muscled thighs. Oh Lord, she shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be thinking of such things. But those thighs were the mark of a horseman. His buckskin jacket hung open, creating a narrow hand’s-width view of his gray shirt.

  While she stared, she noticed how rapidly he was breathing. Bridie swallowed past the lump in her throat. The movement of his string tie fascinated her.

  “Bridie? Bridie, are you all right?”

  “No.”

  “No? Why? What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes held a vague look when she lifted them to his. Kit smiled, and saw the color of her eyes deepen to rich, dark purple. She’d look just like that when he kissed her.

  And from thought, came action.

  “Kit?” His name squeaked past dry lips in alarm for the sudden intensity on his face.

  Just a simple little kiss. He’d keep holding the lamp and she’d have the puppy. Nothing was getting out of hand. He wouldn’t think about how close that bed was. After all, he had experience in these matters.

  No big deal. He wasn’t fourteen.

  Kit breathed through his teeth. He could handle this. Bridie, for goodness sake, wasn’t the sort of woman to threaten a man’s sanity with curiosity.

  Remember that. Be calm, too. Don’t frighten her.

  He’d be calm. No problem for a man of his experience.

  Only he felt the heat of her through his clothes.

  Cloth. There was a sobering thought. Sobering? Was he losing his mind?

  Cloth was all they had between them.

  He could smell her now, clean, clear soap, and that heated hint of spice.

  Petal soft. Trembling. Full and rich and sweet tasting with a touch of chocolate. He was losing his mind.

  She didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t know how to angle her head for the perfect meeting of lips to lips. She even forgot to breathe.

  Again. He had to taste her again. Whisper-soft touches. He loved drawing out the pleasure for a woman and for himself.

  But he had to warn himself again to hang on to that calm.

  He drew back. A grin of sheer male satisfaction creased his lips. Bridie’s eyes were rich, dark purple, almost black.

  He watched with fascination the way the barest tip of her tongue slowly explored her bottom lip from corner to corner. He wouldn’t mind doing a little of the same kind of exploring himself.

  But that experience he kept reminding himself that he had kicked in and warned him off. A little taste to tease and tantalize went a long way.

  Trouble was, Kit wasn’t sure who had been teased and tantalized by whom.

  “Bridie?” he asked, drawing another deep breath and deciding that the spices he smelled were warm, dark, exotic ones. “Do you bake?”

  “What?” She attempted to focus on what he had asked her. Feeling a little dazed, and a whole lot confused by the purely melting sensations that turned her insides soft as pudding, she wasn’t sure it worked.

  “You’re coming to the cakewalk Friday night. Bake something sweet. I’ll come by around seven with the buggy to pick you up.”

  Kit set the lamp on the floor. His gaze traveled up her flannel robe as slowly as he stood straight again. Her braid reached past her hip. The tied tail end was caught between her body and the door behind her. He regretfully declined the urge to kiss her again.

  Distance was what he needed.

  “Bridie, wear your prettiest dress. There’s always dancing afterward.”

  He was halfway down the staircase when she snapped out of her daze.

  At least her voice did. She wanted very much to run after him, but she was afraid if she left the support of the solid wood behind her, her knees would buckle.

  “You wait. I can’t.”

  “Sure you can,” he said, turning to look at her. Kit grinned. “Every woman knows how to bake something, even biscuits. And it’s high time you started socializing with your neighbors.”

  “You’re my neighbor. The only one. And … and what you just did wasn’t any kind of socializing.”

  “Trust me, Bridie.” A tinge of exasperation covered his guilt. “We’ve just got started being as social as a man and woman can get.”

  Social? Is that what he called it? She thought he had kissed her.

  “I can’t go. You can’t come into my home and tell me—”

  “Seven, Bridie. Be ready. I’m a mighty impatient man.”

  She heard the door close. The words wouldn’t go away. Her head was reeling. She pressed the warm little body of the puppy against her racing heart and took several long, deep breaths.

  He had kissed her. Kit Sidell had kissed Bridie Delwin.

  She wanted to whimper like the puppy.

  Somehow Bridie managed to walk into her room. “Little sweetheart,” she whispered to the dog, “he really did kiss me. I have had my very first kiss from the only man I ever wanted to kiss.”

  Bridie heard the wonder in her voice. It echoed the feeling inside her.

  She took a folded shawl from the seat of the rocker and wrapped it around the puppy. She put the bundle on the foot of her bed and moved to stand in front of her mirror.

  She couldn’t see a thing.

  The lamp. She needed light. With that same dazzled, dazed expression on her face she managed to retrieve the lamp. Better. With shaking fingertips she reached upward but she couldn’t touch her mouth.

  She had no experience in the ways of men and women. Did everyone have these fluttery sensations? She drew another deep breath to settle her jolted nerves.

  Kit Sidell had kissed her.

  Bridie sort of floated toward the bed, dropped the robe On the floor and turned back the quilt. She didn’t even feel the cool drafts swirling around her bare feet and ankles. But she wanted to lie down. She had to think about this. She wanted to dream about it.

  One hand stole beneath her pillow and closed over the small wooden heart. Her fingertip traced the small letters that spelled out the word valentine.

  For the past thirteen years she had fallen asleep holding this heart. But she never let herself dream of the boy who had given it to her.

  He hadn’t really wanted her to be his valentine.

  But for a little while, a few precious minutes, she had felt a magical wonder that only a twelve-year-old girl on the verge of womanhood could ever feel.

  Such a long, long time to wait for a dream to come.

  Bridie closed her eyes. The puppy wormed her way beneath the quilt to cuddle close to her heart.

  Toasty warm, Bridie dreamed.

  Chapter 5

  Yips and a cold puppy nose brought Bridie awake before cock’s crow. She let the dog out, stoked the fire in the stove and put coffee on before she went upstairs.

  A minute inspection of the sleepy-eyed woman in the mirror revealed no visible changes. If it were not for the presence of the puppy, she would believe she had dreamed what happened last night.

  She dressed hurriedly and made her bed. She stared at the wooden heart before she tucked it and her memory of last night out of sight.

  Work waited for her.

  She milked the cow and fed the animals by lantern light. When she went looking for the puppy she found her rolling in the stove ashes she had spread on her garden plot.

  “You look like cinders yourself, little one,” she said as the puppy scampered toward her. “Cinders. I rather like that for your name.” She picked up the little dog, smiling at the tail wagging that set her little rump swaying from side to side. “Warm milk for you and coffee for me.”

  Bridie had her first morning caller before the dew had dried on the grass. She had just come into the kitchen with a jug of buttermilk for the chocolate decadence cakes she had to bake when she heard someone knocking on the front door.

&
nbsp; The puppy was sound asleep in the laundry basket near the stove.

  “We need to work on your being a watchdog.”

  She wiped her hands on her apron, and smoothed back her hair as she went to answer the knocking.

  Bridie had no trouble with her breathing, so she didn’t fear it was Kit who had come to see her. But she certainly didn’t expect to find his sister Alma when she opened the door.

  “Bridie, please forgive me for calling on you so early, but I’ve a round of calls to make and you were first on my list.”

  “List?”

  “Bridie, we’re having a cakewalk to raise money to help people who have lost family to yellow fever in New Orleans. Now I know you’ll want to donate some baked goods to the cause. Friday night at the church hall. And Bridie, this time I want you to come, too.”

  “But I—”

  “Bridie, I’ve no time to argue or to listen to your excuses. And it’s high time you came out of mourning.”

  “Alma, this is a worthy cause and I will bake something, but I won’t come.”

  “And why not, pray tell? It’s not right for a young woman—”

  “Alma, please. I’m a woman grown and I know my own mind. You’ll have your donation. Now, you must excuse me for I have chores waiting.”

  Bridie started to close the door when Alma stopped her.

  “Do you want me to stop by and pick it up? Or I could send Kit over.”

  “No,” she answered quickly. “I’ll drop it off at the church hall Friday afternoon.”

  Alma had to be satisfied with that, but as she climbed up on her buggy’s seat, she cast a look back at the closed door. There had to be some way to bring Bridie out of her shy shell. As she lifted the reins and headed down the dirt road, she wondered if she should enlist her brother’s aid. Kit could charm a butterfly into landing in the palm of his hand to drink sugar water. He could certainly charm Bridie.

  Bridie was thinking about Kit, too. Not of his charm but of the similar won’t-take-no-for-an-answer trait he shared with his sister.

  She wished she could have said yes that she would be happy to come to the cakewalk. But not only didn’t she have something pretty to wear, she didn’t know how to dance.

  And there would be dancing afterward. Both Marylee and Sedalia had said that once the cakes had been won by the bachelors and widowers, the married ladies served punch and start pushing couples together as soon as the fiddlers began playing.

  Dawdling over what couldn’t be wasn’t getting her cakes baked. Bridie pushed the whole matter out of her mind.

  She had dried currants soaking in bourbon while she rolled out the lumps of sugar she had shaved off the loaf. While the pecan meats blanched, she grated nutmegs. The three pounds of butter were soft and creamy as she began adding flour. The big crockery bowl would hold enough finished cake mix to bake twenty-four layers. Twenty-four eggs had to be beaten in two at a time to make the cakes light. Mace, cloves, and candied orange and lemon peels added spice to the mix.

  Bridie was about halfway through adding in the eggs when once again she heard someone knocking at the front door. Her arm ached from stirring, but she hated to leave the mix.

  The pounding grew louder, and something urgent about it sent her out of the kitchen.

  Sedalia Chadick was a vision in soft blue wool. Bonnet and cape matched her skirt.

  “Thank goodness, Bridie. I thought you weren’t home.” She didn’t give Bridie a chance to refuse her entry but simply pushed her way inside the hall.

  “And good morning to you, too, Sedalia.”

  “Bridie, I haven’t time to be polite. You’ve got to bake me one of your chocolate cakes. I need it to bring to the cakewalk.”

  “I told you the last time—”

  “You don’t understand,” she wailed.

  “I don’t want to. I’m not baking for you.” Bridie had never more resented Sedalia’s perfection that made her feel so poor.

  “Bridie, I’m begging you.” Sedalia clutched one of Bridie’s arms. “You don’t understand what this could mean to me. But I’ll share my secret with you, Bridie. Kit’s on the verge of making a proposal. He’s got such a sweet tooth and loves those chocolate cakes. I must have one.”

  She released Bridie’s arm, ignoring her refusal and fumbled with the drawstring of her reticule. “Here. I’ll pay you three dollars this time.”

  “Sedalia, take your bonnet off. It’s affecting your hearing. I said no.”

  She dug into her purse once more. “Five dollars.”

  Bridie could feel herself waver. It was more than Mr. Lea paid her per cake. When she thought of Sedalia using her baked goods to bait the trap and marry Kit, she had to refuse.

  “I’m sorry, Sedalia. I wish I could help you out, but I can’t.”

  “All I’ve got with me is ten dollars. It’s yours.”

  “Wait right here.” Bridie ran back to the kitchen and snatched up a small sack of pecans. She returned and handed them over to a stunned and disbelieving Sedalia.

  “There. You can go home and bake a nice pecan pie.”

  “How can you be so cruel, Bridie? What have I ever done to make you turn mean on me?”

  Bridie looked her right in the eye. “Sedalia, you want to trap a man into marriage on a lie. I’m trying to save you from yourself. What would you do after you’re married to Kit? Come here again and again. And what if he wonders how come he never sees you do the baking?”

  “After I have his ring on my finger it wouldn’t matter. But I’ll never forgive you for this, Bridie. Never.”

  “Thanks for stopping by,” Bridie called out before she closed the door and leaned against it.

  He’s on the verge of a proposal.

  That low-down, rotten parish stallion! How dare he come around calling on her? Giving her a puppy? Kissing her?

  Oh, she’d like to bake a very special chocolate cake for Kit Sidell. One he’d never forget.

  And you promised his sister you’d bring something to the church hall.

  And so she would.

  But if Bridie thought she could continue her baking without any more interruptions, she was wrong. Not an hour went by before Marylee came to call.

  Marylee arrived in her buggy and she asked for help with the laundry basket. Bridie couldn’t summon an ounce of welcome, but she was curious to see what Marylee would offer.

  She wasn’t wrong about the woman’s intent. She, too, wanted a chocolate cake, but Marylee had a bribe that was better than money. She had a basket full of cast-off gowns, skirts and pretty shirtwaists.

  “Papa just insisted that I have a whole new wardrobe for winter. I thought you might like to have these, Bridie. I know how things are with you. Working all the time, never having any fun. And all I want is one itsy, bitsy little chocolate cake from you.”

  “Oh, is Kit Sidell on the verge of proposing to you, too?” Bridie asked with a sweet smile. The man was a danger to himself and every female under the age of thirty.

  “Why how did you ever guess?”

  “I didn’t, Marylee. Sedalia was here on the very same mission early this morning.”

  “That… that—”

  “Don’t matter to me what you all call each other. As far as I’m concerned you both can have Kit Sidell and welcome to him. But I’m not baiting your trap any more than I’d bait hers.”

  “Bridie Delwin, what’s gotten into you? You’ve never said no before. What difference can it make to you what I do, or even Sedalia does, to get Kit to propose?”

  “Not a snap.”

  “Then why won’t you help me?”

  “’Cause I promised Alma I’d be bringing one of my cakes for her to have as a prize, that’s why.” Bridie clamped her hands onto the edge of her apron. What did she just say? How could she do such a thing?

  Marylee couldn’t have looked more surprised than if Bridie had announced she was going to marry Kit. “You can
’t mean that?”

  “I do. And what’s more, I might take a pie along, too. But I’ll be as fair to you as I was to Sedalia. Wait here.”

  Once more she ran into the kitchen and grabbed a small sack of pecans. “Now, Marylee, you don’t forget that these nuts need to be shelled before you bake them.”

  Bridie didn’t give her a choice about taking them. She pushed the sack into her arms.

  “I don’t know what’s come over you, Bridie. You used to be so nice.”

  “Well a birthday’s come and gone. It’s high time I started worrying about me.”

  “That’s a selfish way of being. You know Kit’s partial to me. I told you so.”

  Bridie had to bite her lip to keep from blurting out that he had come calling on her. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest and tried for a stern look.

  “Is there anything that would get you to change your mind?”

  “You get him to propose and I’ll bake your wedding cake. Get along now, Marylee. You’ve got pie to bake.” Bridie pushed the laundry basket over the threshold. “Don’t forget this. I’m sure the church sewing circle would be glad to have them.”

  This time when she closed the door, she was vocal about what she thought of Kit. “Bounder. No-account. Slicker than a snake-oil drummer. He’s got sawdust between his ears even if he does kiss like heaven.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was more angry with him or herself. But wherever the anger came from, it helped her beat in the remaining eggs and cocoa in no time.

  She mumbled as she worked filling the cake pans and setting them carefully in the oven. Cinders sat up in the laundry basket, adding a yip in every now and then.

  Bridie couldn’t tell if the puppy was supporting her or defending Kit. By the time she had the chocolate melted for frosting, creamed the butter and began whipping egg whites, she made her decision. She was not going to add a pinch of this and dash of that so that Kit would be thinking about his body in ways he’d never imagined.

  She would donate the most decadent chocolate cake she had ever baked.

  Once the cakes had cooled, Bridie began slicing the layers. But one cake she held in reserve. She assembled the others for the hotel, and placed each one in round thin wood cheese boxes. Mr. Bibbs, who owned the Family Grocery on Main Street, was ready to throw them away. Bridie had washed them with lye soap and dried them in the sun to remove the strong odor of cheese. They made perfect carrying boxes for the cakes, even if the frosting on the sides had to be repaired. A jar of frosting always arrived with her cakes for the hotel cook to fix them.