She should have been insulted by his actions. She should have pulled away. She should have slapped his face. Instead, she encircled his neck with her arms and kissed him in fevered abandonment.
Cory surrendered control to desire, passion, and lust. A mere kiss had never caused such wanton seduction. Her traitorous body responded with a sinful will of its own, and she rubbed against the hard, unyielding form that defined manhood in all its magnificence.
She had never touched a man, and her hands moved freely as she explored the size and hardness of his body. His bare skin flowed smooth and cool beneath her fingertips. She caressed his arms, shoulders, neck, and tangled her fingers in his hair. Cory refused to let him escape as she tasted the saltiness of his skin, felt the rough bristle of his cheek, and plundered the soft moistness of his mouth.
She gasped for breath. This strange fever clouded any clear judgment or thought of consequence.
He kissed her face and neck, blazing a trail lower and lower as her breath caught in her throat. Her pulse beat at a shattering pace beneath his mouth. A groan escaped her parted lips.
His hands explored the curves beneath her flimsy robe and lowered the fabric to reach naked flesh. He kissed her bare shoulder and caught the strap of her gown with his teeth until it came undone and fell away. His hand cupped the heavy fullness of her breast and gently squeezed. His thumb skimmed over her smooth nipple, teasing it to a throbbing peak. He lowered his mouth and suckled the swollen fruit.
Cory’s eyes widened at this new and surprising sensation. She had seen the look on a new mother’s face when a baby was placed on the breast to nurse. Was it like this? A wave of contractions traveled through her body and nestled between her legs. The place babies came from. He was exploring forbidden territory. She shoved against his chest. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”
Tyler raised his head, his mouth moist from feasting. She backed away, stealing the bruised fruit from his lips. Her trembling hands snatched the fallen corner of her nightgown, and her fingers fumbled at the ties as she knotted the strap.
“Where are you going?” He followed toward the door.
Cory grabbed the pitchfork in the wheelbarrow and raised it in defense.
Tyler stopped short and raised his hands. “What did I do?”
“You were taking liberties!” A sob escaped her throat. She stabbed the pitchfork in his direction.
“You were hot. I may have started the kissing, but you certainly didn’t resist.”
He spoke the truth, but pride dictated she protest. “I lost my head.”
He stepped closer.
“For a moment.” She pointed the sharp tines at his chest. “I’m a virgin and have every intention of remaining one until my wedding night.”
He stopped in his tracks. A silent pause separated them. “Are you sure you want to save yourself for one man?”
Cory’s arms shook. “How many holes do I need to put in you?”
“One is quite enough.” He backed away and grabbed the lantern he had left near the stall. “I think it’s time to go in.”
Cory returned the pitchfork to the wheelbarrow and opened the barn door. Tyler reached to hold the door, but she bolted at his nearness and raced to the house. She didn’t want to be with Tyler a minute longer. She didn’t trust herself. She needed to erect a barrier preventing any repeat of her wanton behavior. She had kissed a man she barely knew. And more! The shame of it. If anyone found out, she’d be ruined. And a slave owner, too. What had happened to her standards? Her self-control? Her future plans?
Tyler entered the kitchen after her. “So, now what?”
Cory raised her hand as she struggled out of her work boots. “Let’s promise never to talk about it again.”
She stumbled, and he offered his hand. She jerked away.
“I was only going to help you.”
“I know, but touching leads to kissing, and kissing leads to…babies.”
“Are you that fertile?”
She put her hand on her hip. “My mother had six children in less than twelve years. Even a Harvard lawyer should be able to figure out the probability.”
“So, we should plan on a large family.”
“You’re a slave owner. I don’t want to marry you.”
“Honey, you should work harder to discourage me.”
She grabbed the edges of her robe and made sure her breasts were covered. “I know I behaved shamelessly.” She couldn’t tell him about the slave. “I have no explanation. Please, forget it ever happened.”
Tyler removed the disfigured slug of lead from his pocket. “This trophy won’t let me forget.”
She recognized the bullet. “Give it to me!”
He raised it above her reach. “The memories tied to it are too valuable now.”
“You’d ruin my life to brag about your conquest?”
“Your villainous opinion of me isn’t flattering.” He thrust the bullet into his pocket. “Don’t worry. No one will ever know about your slip from society’s Puritan principles.” He raised his hand as if in court. “I swear it.”
Cory lit her candle and blew out the lantern. She hurried to the foyer. She paused on the bottom step. Tyler joined her. “Do you promise never to kiss me again?”
Tyler chuckled.
“Hush.” Cory glanced upstairs to Adelaide’s bedroom. She cautiously climbed the steps, pausing when one creaked beneath her weight.
“That, my sweet, is one promise I won’t make.” Tyler patted her bottom.
Cory elbowed his side. Unfortunately, it was the one with the wound, and he nearly buckled, crying out in pain.
“I’m sorry.” She put her arm around him and helped him climb the remaining steps.
They paused by his door. “I can tell you’re not accustomed to having a man around, but I’ll grow on you.”
“Go to bed.” She slipped out from under his weight and dashed to her room. She tore off her robe, jumped into bed, and snatched the blanket over her head. She had let a man touch her in an inappropriate manner, and not any man, but a Southern slave owner too handsome for mortality, who made her forget all the teachings of restraint. “Marriage first. Marriage to a respectable man like Douglas.” She poked her head out from under the thin cover. She needed to think rationally, but doubts persisted. What if Douglas didn’t make her weak in the knees like Tyler? She had tasted the forbidden fruit and doubted she would ever be satisfied with basic bread and butter. She groaned as she closed her eyes and wished for the answers.
Chapter Six
Cory was in a dreamy half-sleep when she heard the heavy footsteps of a man descend the staircase. At first, she thought nothing of it. It was her father responding to an early morning call. Then she realized she was alone in bed without her youngest sister, Juliet, curled against her back. Her mind focused as she stretched, opened her eyes, and looked around. The bed wasn’t hers, and the footsteps she had heard belonged to Tyler. Any remnant of slumber vanished as she bolted from the bed. She flung open her bedroom door. His footsteps faded down the main hallway and toward the back door.
The barn! She ran to her window and saw him approach the door they had used the night before. He’d find the runaway slave if she didn’t stop him. She tossed off her nightgown and slapped on an old dress she wore for chores. She didn’t have time for undergarments. She didn’t even run a brush through her hair. She hurried down the steps, hopped into the old boots parked by the back door, and barely missed a beat as she dashed across the yard.
The barn door was open, and morning light filtered inside. The barn appeared friendlier than last night. Nell munched on oats while Cory searched for any signs of the slave in her stall. Where was he? Had Tyler already found him? She heard a low baritone voice singing the pro-slavery minstrel song “Dixie.” She followed the music to the cow pen. “What are you doing?”
Tyler sat on a three-legged milking stool with his hands beneath a black and white cow. He tugged on her teats and squirted milk into a wooden bu
cket beneath her udders. He was still bare to the waist except for the strip of Cory’s petticoat. It was twisted and darkly stained near the wound. He turned his head and looked at her, his head resting against the bovine’s side. “Cory?”
She carefully stepped around the piles of cow dung decorating the hard packed ground and put her hand on the cow’s hindquarters. She attempted a less hysterical pitch. “What are you doing?”
He grinned. “I have my hands on a couple of teats.”
She recalled last night’s shameful actions. She had to put a stop to his innuendos. “I don’t know what the girls are like in Virginia, but the only udders you’re going to touch on this farm are the cows’.”
“Bessie doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Her name is Gertie.”
Tyler had an easy rhythm as he squeezed and squirted milk into the bucket.
“Where did you learn to milk a cow? Harvard dairy?”
Tyler laughed. “A Quaker couple raised me on a farm in Vandalia, Virginia.”
“A Quaker couple?” The Quakers were peace loving, simple folk who dressed plainly and practiced restraint. Tyler hardly fit the mold. “You’re joking.”
“Sarah and James Yoder tolerated my shortcomings.”
“Too bad you didn’t learn modesty from them.”
“I would dress if I could.”
“Your clothes,” she recalled. “I left them in my room.”
“I thought it might be rude to come in uninvited.”
Cory blushed. In her dreams he had entered uninvited but welcomed. All the stirring emotions of last night returned with a wet rush. She needed to put an end to this nonsense. “I need to mend the holes and put your shirt out on the line to dry. It shouldn’t take long. You can probably find a ride into town.”
He stood and lifted the milk bucket safely out of Gertie’s way. “You can’t take me?”
“I have chores to do.” She realized he was doing one of them. “You shouldn’t be working.” She studied his soiled bandage. “You might open your wound.”
He looked around the barn and focused on her. “You do all the work around this farm without any help?”
“You must be used to genteel ladies who can barely lift a pen to write a letter. I take care of the livestock, garden, and help with the cooking, cleaning, and baking,” she rattled off on her fingers.
Tyler untied Gertie and smacked her on the hindquarters. She swatted a few flies with her tail and waited for Cory to open the gate to the pasture.
Cory stepped into the light streaming from the east to let Gertie pass.
Tyler stared at her standing in the morning sun.
She looked down at her attire. The dress was hemmed shorter to keep the material out of the dirt, but the only thing revealed were the old leather boots on her feet. She looked around. “What?”
He touched the ribbon of fabric across his chest. “Did you use your only petticoat for this bandage?”
“No.”
“Then you must have dressed in a hurry.”
“This is an old work dress. You don’t expect me to muck the stalls in silk?”
Tyler put the bucket of milk down on the milking stool, passed the other cow and calf, and grabbed her skirt. He lifted it.
Cory shoved his hands. “What are you doing?” They struggled until he released the fabric.
“I’m no expert on what women wear under their dresses, but I’ll wager you forgot a few things.”
Cory stiffened. How did he know she had nothing underneath her dress? She felt naked under his scrutiny. “I’m covered.”
“In the South, a woman, even on the hottest day, wears at least one petticoat.”
“It’s July, and I normally don’t have a man criticizing my appearance while I’m working in the barn.”
He leaned in close. “I’m surprised you don’t have a dozen men helping you with your chores.”
“What would I do with a dozen men?” She turned her attention to the cow. “Are you going to milk her or should I do it?”
Tyler blocked her path.
“What do you want?”
“I want to know why you kissed me last night.”
“You kissed me.” She needed to correct any misconceptions about her lack of outrage at his actions. “And I didn’t give you permission.”
He stepped closer, inches from her. “You said you were hot.” He brushed back a loose curl from her cheek.
“The barn was stifling.” Cory’s heartbeat raced beneath the thin fabric, and her body responded to his presence in spite of her resolve. Her nipples throbbed and breasts swelled from the memory of his touch. Cory checked her buttons. One twisted off in her hand.
“Fresh hay in the loft,” Tyler whispered. “Wouldn’t take much effort to shed what clothes we’re wearing.”
Cory fought the desire to lift her skirt and accept his offer to show their nakedness. She was no better than an animal in heat. What was this strange base urge to mate? “I have no intention of rolling around in the hay with you.”
He turned and moved the milking stool under the other cow. “Then I might as well milk Bessie.”
Cory was stunned. No outrageous propositions? No pursuit? Wasn’t he equally affected? She followed him to the cow. “That’s Lulu.”
“Aren’t any of your cows named Bessie?”
“No, and the calf is a bull.”
“Well, I had a cow named Bessie, and she gave milk without even squeezing. Never once kicked me or smacked me with her tail.”
“Are you comparing me to a cow?”
“I loved that cow.” Tyler milked Lulu. “I cried all the way home when I had to take her to the butcher.”
He sounded sincere in his affection. “I’m sorry. My sisters and I are always becoming attached to the animals on the farm, but I didn’t think men did.”
“She was sweet.” He looked at her. “Unlike some females.”
Did he think she was naïve to fall for this new tactic to seduce her? She patted his shoulder while restraining a slap to the back of his head. “Didn’t you have any human friends, Tyler?”
“You may scoff, but I had plenty of friends in my younger days.” He winked. “Even had a girlfriend.”
“Bessie?”
He frowned. “Funny. Her name was Reggie Johnston, and she was a skinny little girl with dirty blonde hair and big owl-like eyes. Mrs. Yoder tutored her along with me and a few other children. They were miners’ brats and lived in tiny shacks no bigger than your chicken coop.”
“How old were you when this torrid romance began?”
“I was nearly nine when she started coming to the house for schooling. Reggie was three years younger and was missing her front teeth.” Tyler made a face. “Kind of a homely child. She was horribly shy and traumatized from working in the coal mines.”
Cory gasped. “A six-year-old girl worked in the mines?”
“Younger,” he corrected. “They used small children to fit into the tight spaces in that hole of black gold. I only went down once on a dare and never complained again about helping Mr. Yoder in his sweat box of a blacksmith’s workroom. Hell’s heat was a lot easier to take than hell’s darkness. A candle never quite dispels the thick shadows. Reggie was five when the other miners lost her.”
“Lost?” Cory tried to fathom what he meant. “In the dark? In the mine?”
“It took nearly two days before they found her. I remember Mrs. Yoder talking about her and how concerned she was for the little, lost girl. When they finally carried her out of the hole, she was hoarse from screaming. She never worked in the mines again. Couldn’t. She was terrified of the dark. Mrs. Yoder offered to school her. She barely talked at first. I made friends with her by giving her candles. She was afraid she’d run out. She’d take a candle over candy any day of the week.”
“That was sweet of you,” Cory gushed. “What happened to her?”
“I left for boarding school when I was fourteen. She was crying about missin
g me, and I worked up the nerve to kiss her. First time I kissed a girl. It startled her so much, she stopped crying.” He paused. “I was too young to appreciate the moment. I came home summers and watched her grow older and prettier each year. She helped Mrs. Yoder with the chores around the house to pay for schooling and shadowed me everywhere. Then she grew into a young lady and stopped following me.”
“And you fell in love with her.” Cory took his silence as affirmation. “Why didn’t you marry her?”
Tyler finished milking Lulu. She trotted to the pasture with her calf chasing her. He placed the bucket on top of the stool. “She married another man.”
“Why?”
“She said she was in love with him.”
“But what about you?”
He rested his hand on his chest. “Broken heart.”
“And I thought your feelings ran more toward passion than sentiment,” she countered.
“I wouldn’t have described my feelings for anything or anyone as passionate until last night.” He stepped toward her. “And my desire hasn’t diminished in the daylight.” His deep voice was husky.
Cory turned her back on him before he saw confirmation of her own desire. “I don’t think Mr. Douglas Raymond would approve of your words.”
“Douglas Raymond? Was he the man who called last night?”
Cory faced him. “You saw him?”
“You’re not going to waste your charms on that Ichabod?”
Cory prickled at his insult. “He’s a mathematics instructor at Western Reserve College in Hudson. He graduated from Yale.”
“Figures.”
“You didn’t hesitate to brag about graduating from Harvard.” She stuck a ladle in the bucket of milk and poured it into a small bowl on the floor. Several cats emerged from the barn’s nooks and crevices to drink the milk. She hung the ladle on a nail.
“Do you plan to marry him?”
Cory turned to face him, surprised he was only a deep breath away. She attempted an escape, but the barn steps were in the way. “He’s a good catch.” She ducked underneath the staircase and paused in the narrow alley next to the horse stalls.
Impending Love and War Page 5