Wild Dream

by Duncan, Alice

  He felt desperate, and he heard it in his voice. He also felt brutish and mean. When she turned around and slapped him with the fullness of her sorrow, as easy to read on her face as the pages of a book, he swallowed.

  “Oh, but Charley, if a body can’t think of things as finer than they are, then how will anything ever get to be better than it already is?”

  He had no answer for her, but stood before her, his hands clenched at his sides, his insides roiling with frustration and anger. Foolish girl. Silly, foolish, romantic idiot. Silly, foolish, idiotic, wonderful Addie.

  “I’m sorry you were hurt so badly by the war, Charley,” she continued gently. “You’re such a fine gentleman. It’s a shame you let the horrors of war blacken your heart. Your nature is gallant and you’re such a wonderful man.”

  “I’m not, either!”

  She smiled, disbelieving, and something in Charley snapped like a dead twig. It took him only two giant strides to reach her and lift her into his arms.

  Chapter 6

  She tasted like honey and moonbeams and romantic southern evenings and everything pure and innocent in the whole world. Charley hadn’t thought he’d ever experience innocence again. He’d thought innocence had died with his dreams and the south. He guessed he was wrong.

  The strength of his passion lifted her right up off the ground. He didn’t realize her toes dangled until she wrapped her legs around him, pressing herself even closer to him.

  “Oh, my God, Addie.”

  He knew that was him, but he couldn’t believe the words were actually his. He’d never heard anything so pathetic come out of his mouth before. He was out of control. He’d never let himself get out of control before.

  Her unbound breasts flattened against his chest. He felt the shape of her supple body. He lowered his good arm until his hand cupped her sweet, soft bottom, and he drew her tight against his arousal. Lord, this was sweet. Lord, this was torture.

  “Oh, Charley.” Addie’s sigh drizzled through him like syrup, hardening his already hard body even as it weakened his will power.

  “Open up for me, Addie,” he demanded raggedly. “Open your mouth.”

  She did, and he allowed himself one groan before his tongue delved into her mouth, found her tongue, and conquered it. She whimpered. He tightened his arms around her and thrust his hardness against the juncture of her thighs. Sweet heaven, he wanted her.

  At last some remnant of sanity attacked Charley’s conscience, and made him realize what he was doing.

  What in the name of God was the matter with him?

  Gently releasing his hold on Addie’s faultless body and easing her to the ground was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to scoop her up, march her upstairs to the bedroom he’d been given for his use—her own father’s bedroom, for heaven’s sake—and ravish her until dawn. Or maybe later. He wanted to feel the beautiful breasts she’d been tormenting him with; to cup them; to suckle her loveliness until she moaned with passion for him. He wanted to feel the sweet honey of her; to taste her.

  She still clung to him. Charley wished she’d let him go. This was difficult enough without her clinging.

  Oh, mercy sakes alive. Addie’s legs felt like jelly. She didn’t understand why he was putting her down. His kiss was the closest thing to heaven she’d ever experienced. She tried to climb back up his rigid body, to lose herself in the glory of his kiss again, but she got no help from him and couldn’t manage it on her own. He was too blasted tall.

  Her knees gave out and she panted, “Don’t let me go, Charley.”

  His voice sounded tight when he said, “I won’t.”

  It took a few minutes for Addie to get her bearings. Then she looked up into Charley’s eyes and found them staring at her, hot with longing. She’d had no idea kissing a gentleman could be so—so—inspiring. Hot rivers of longing bubbled in her. A cauldron simmered between her thighs. Addie had lived on a farm long enough to know what that meant. Mercy sakes.

  She slumped against him and sighed, “Oh, Charley.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Adelaide.”

  She stared up at him in astonishment. “You’re sorry?”

  “I had no right to kiss you that way.”

  “What?” Bemused, Addie examined his face. Well, for heaven’s sake, he looked almost sick.

  “Oh, Charley, if you aren’t the sweetest thing. Why, I swan, that was the most wonderful thing anybody’s ever done to me in my whole entire life. I expect you think that because we aren’t promised yet, you shouldn’t have kissed me, but I want you to know that you can kiss me any old time you want.”

  Shuddering eloquently, she murmured, “Just any old time. I swan, I never felt anything like that before. Never, not once.”

  Charley groaned and Addie felt shy all of a sudden. She couldn’t quite meet his eye when she said, “I expect I need more practice, don’t I? I don’t reckon it felt as good to you as it did to me.”

  “Awwwww,” crept, smothered, from Charley’s throat.

  With her head still bowed, Addie clasped her hands in front of her. “So, if you want to kiss me again, Charley, I’d take it as a kindness, and I’ll try to learn everything you think I need to know.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “You don’t want to kiss me again?” Addie’s voice was very tiny.

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” Charley’s voice, on the other hand, sounded as though it had been strung taught and pulled from his throat by main force.

  Addie brightened until he added, “But I can’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “Go to bed now, Addie.”

  She looked up at him again. His expression reminded her of the expression on Old Man Stevenson’s dog when he wasn’t allowed to chase the pigs. Strained. Charley looked strained.

  “Are you sure, Charley?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, all right, then.” She was awfully disappointed. “Did—did I do it wrong, Charley?”

  “No.”

  She waited, but he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. Well, pooh. She’d been hoping he’d be willing to give her another lesson or two. He looked pretty determined, though. She guessed she’d just better go on up to bed.

  When she lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed him good-night, Charley looked like he might just die. Addie didn’t understand his look one little bit. But she didn’t reckon he was in a talking mood now, so she only said, “Well, good-night, then, Charley,” and skipped into the house, up the stairs, and into her bedroom.

  Once in her room, she dashed over to the window and watched while Charley walked, stiff-legged, back to the apple orchard. She guessed he went back to fetch his cornet, which he’d left on a fence post.

  As soon as he strode out of her sight, Addie sighed and collapsed against the wall next to the window. She pressed one hand to her swollen lips and one to her palpitating heart.

  “Mercy sakes.”

  She was very nearly overwhelmed by the wonderful new sensations Charley had created within her body this evening. She hadn’t realized a man could make her feel this way: as though hot, bubbly molasses coursed through her veins and her limbs were made of water.

  Then again, Addie knew very well that not just any man could do this to her. In fact, the very idea of Fermin Small kissing her inspired her with nothing but disgust.

  But Charley.

  “Oh, mercy sakes,” she murmured again.

  Drawing herself up straight, Addie grinned from ear to ear. This was just too wonderful an experience to leave unrecorded. She darted to her bed, reached under her pillow, and drew out a small book. She’d never had much to confide to her diary before tonight. Even so, she’d covered it with a pretty patterned chintz and sewn a ribbon tie on it. It had always seemed too lovely a little booklet for the recording of crop harvests, egg gathering, hog slaughtering and canning. But tonight . . .

  Tonight, Addie had wonders to report. Still smiling, she bent to her tas
k.

  Charley considered putting his pistol to his head and pulling the trigger, but decided self-destruction would be a cowardly way out. His men depended on him to lead them through this time of trouble in their collective lives. Killing himself might do away with his frustrations, but it would be a dastardly thing to do to the band.

  Of course, kissing Addie Blewitt had been fairly dastardly too, he reckoned. The knowledge did not sit easily on Charley’s already overburdened conscience. He sank to the ground beneath the apple tree and buried his face in his palms.

  She’d melted against him. She’d just caught fire in his arms and melted. Her ardor matched his and then some. He’d never had a woman melt like that before. It could become addictive.

  “No.”

  The word was wrenched from his gut. He couldn’t kiss her again. Ever.

  What kind of a man was he, anyway, to take advantage of an innocent, romantic virgin like Addie Blewitt? He never used to be a ravisher of young maidens.

  Of course, I never used to be a thief, either, he thought bitterly.

  Life was just too damned hard, and Charley wasn’t at all sure his character was up to tackling the vicissitudes it had visited upon him. Every step he took seemed to lead him farther away from the straight and narrow path his mama and papa had taught him to walk when he was a boy.

  But he’d never seduced a virgin before. His behavior this evening seemed somehow the lowest he’d ever sunk. Worse even than trying to rob that mercantile in Arleta.

  Worse even than planning to steal Addie’s rubies? Hmmm. Charley wasn’t sure about that. He supposed his men’s hunger might be an excuse for theft, although the knowledge didn’t sit any better on his conscience now than it ever had.

  There was no excuse at all for kissing Addie Blewitt, though. He felt very disheartened.

  It was a long time before he pulled the shredded threads of his composure together enough to trudge up the stairs and haul himself to bed. All night long, he was troubled by the knowledge that Addie Blewitt lay in her own bed just down the hall, ripe, ready, lovely, and hot as fire.

  # # #

  Charley was glum the next morning as Addie served him breakfast. Her smile for him was as spectacular as any he’d ever received from a female. He wished he deserved it, but knew better. He was a bounder and a louse.

  And he was a thief. He was more determined than ever to find those rubies, and then get the devil out of there. They might just have to skip the cattle drive and the bank deposits altogether.

  His mood didn’t improve when he realized Ivy and Lester were making moony eyes at each other when they thought nobody was looking. Charley wanted to throw his head back and holler.

  Addie insisted on bandaging his arm again. He sat on the porch, staring out at the scrubby plain in front of the Blewitt house. He tried to visualize the score of Handel’s “Music for the Royal Fireworks” with his mind’s eye while she worked him over. It didn’t work. His body was hard and hot as a lit firecracker by the time she was through tying her blasted fancy knot. Then he went to the barn and slaved himself near to death cleaning it out and putting it back together again, hoping hard physical labor would make his body forget Addie Blewitt.

  “Why, Charley Wilde, this barn looks nigh as good as new.”

  Addie stood in the barn doorway, her honey-colored hair captured by the noonday sun, a soft breeze spinning wispy golden tendrils around her cheeks. Her large mouth curved into a delighted smile, and Charley had to look away. And to think he’d thought her plain when he’d first seen her. Must have been the effects of that bullet. Her aunt’s bullet. Oh, Lord.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He decided he’d better quit while he was ahead.

  “Now, Charley, you come in and rest before Aunt Ivy and I fix dinner for you and Lester. We’re just having sandwiches today, because we’ve been doing the spring housecleaning all morning.

  Looking up quickly, Charley said, “No.” He cleared his throat, thought fast, and said, “No, please, Miss Adelaide. I—I have to go to town today. Band business.”

  Her face had nearly crumpled at his first brusque “No,” but it cleared again immediately when he came up with his lie. It figured, he thought dourly. Lying was quickly becoming his way of life. He hated it.

  “Oh, of course, Charley. Why, I’ll just pack you something to take along then.”

  “No!”

  He drew in a big breath and tried again. “I mean, please don’t go to the trouble, Miss Adelaide. I’m sure you don’t want to go to the bother of packing me any food.”

  She gave him her sweet giggle, the one that went in through his ears, snaked through his senses, and ended up stiffening his sex.

  God, this was awful.

  “Don’t you be an old silly now, Charley. I’ll have you some sandwiches packed in a little jiffy. I think Lester’s planning to go to town for Aunt Ivy, too.”

  “Why don’t you make me a list, Miss Adelaide. I can run errands for you when I get to Rothwell.”

  Her smile blazed across the barn and nearly incinerated him. “Thank you, Charley. You’re such a fine gentleman. I’ll just do that.”

  She tripped off to the house. Charley wasn’t sure if she heard him groan or not.

  A half hour later, Addie watched Charley and Lester ride out through the farmyard gate, a list of errands tucked away in Charley’s pocket, sandwiches tidily packed by Addie nestled in his saddle bags.

  Imagine him sayin’ they didn’t need me to pack ‘em food, she mused, smiling. Why, ever’body knows gentlemen need their nourishment.

  And that particular gentleman, with his hard-as-rocks shoulders and enormous arm muscles, needed to eat a lot, she expected. Why, she’d nearly swooned dead away on the porch when she’d seen his naked chest and arms this morning. You’d think a body’d get used to seeing sights of that nature, but Addie wasn’t sure she ever would.

  Charley Wilde was about as handsome as one of those old Greek god fellows she’d read about in her daddy’s big history books. Every bit as handsome as one of her aunt Ivy’s dead ancestors who used to ride around England in tin armor, rescuing ladies from evil men and slaying dragons. Addie’d plumb near flung herself into his arms again and begged him to give her another kissing lesson this morning.

  With a happy sigh, she flicked her dishtowel and reentered the house. She found Ivy in the kitchen, washing the tops of some jam jars.

  “We can put these on the table tomorrow morning, Addie,” Ivy screeched, indicating a jar of apricot preserves and another of apple butter. “The men’ll like them.”

  “That’s a fine idea, Aunt Ivy. But, Aunt Ivy, I think you’d better lay off old Lester for a while. He looked almost green at breakfast this morning. I think you’re wearin’ him out. I think he’s still a little scared of you.”

  With a smile as bright as the noonday sun, Ivy said, “I know he’s scared of me, Addie, but he won’t be scared much longer. I’m already teaching him that. He’s getting less scared all the time. You just wait.” She sighed dreamily and echoed herself. “You just wait.”

  Addie took note of her aunt’s fervent expression and gasped. Her hand flew to her bosom. “Oh, Aunt Ivy! You mean you think Lester’s really the One?” She spoke the word “one” as though it were spun of pure gold.

  Her aunt nodded, her smile still glorious. “I think so, Addie. I purely do.”

  “Oh, Aunt Ivy.”

  Addie’s eyes filled with tears. To think, after all these years, her beloved aunt Ivy—a lady who’d been wrenched away from her happy Georgia home and dragged to the territory, thwarting a youth filled with beauty and romance—had at last discovered the One. Addie had to wipe her cheeks with the dishtowel.

  Ivy eyed her slyly. “What about you, Addie? What do you think of Mr. Charley Wilde?”

  Inhaling deeply and releasing her breath slowly, Addie clutched her towel to her bosom. Mr. Charley Wilde. He even had an elegan
t name. Adelaide Evangeline Wilde. Why, it sounded perfect.

  “Oh, Aunt Ivy,” she breathed dramatically.

  Unfortunately, the effect was lost on Ivy, who cupped her ear and bellowed, “Eh?”

  With another deep breath, Addie gave up on drama, decided it was past time she decorated Ivy’s hearing horn, and hollered, “I think Charley Wilde is the most perfect man on the face of the earth, Aunt Ivy.”

  “Good. Then get yourself on outside and pick us some flowers, Addie. We’re going to make us up a romantic table for supper tonight. Now that we’ve found ‘em, we’d best do everything we can not to let ‘em slip away.”

  Her aunt’s sensible suggestion spurred Addie out of her Charley-induced reverie. She bellowed, “Good idea, Aunt Ivy,” and bustled outside to do Ivy’s bidding.

  # # #

  In order to make Charley’s fib about needing to conduct band business look like the truth, he and Lester trucked their horns with them when they set out for Rothwell. Charley cringed inside at this further evidence of his collapsed moral character. He frowned at his list of things to do in Rothwell. It wasn’t a very long list.

  “Not long enough,” he grumbled under his breath.

  Lester looked at him and lifted an inquiring brow, and Charley sighed.

  “You tie the horses up, Lester. I’m going into the mercantile to find some of this stuff for the Blewitt ladies.”

  At the mention of the Blewitt ladies, Lester paled. In spite of his frustration and his concern for poor old Lester’s sensibilities, Charley couldn’t help but grin. Lester looked just about as terrified as Charley felt himself. He whacked Lester on the back bracingly before he dismounted.

  “It’ll be all right, Lester. Miss Ivy’s just a friendly lady, is all.”

  Lester shuddered and Charley was still chuckling when he entered the Rothwell General Merchandise and Dry Goods Emporium’s front door. He heard a bump and a quick scuttling noise, but didn’t see anybody. Looking around, he didn’t notice anything at all resembling a proprietor. Or another human being, for that matter. He seemed to be alone in the store, which didn’t feel right. A prickle of uneasiness danced up his spine.