Loving Katherine

by Carolyn Davidson

  If he had thought himself a man of experience, if he’d considered himself knowledgeable beforehand, Roan lost those illusions in moments. Nothing in his memory could compare with the female creature he held, nothing he’d felt came close to the anticipation that swelled him almost to bursting as he laid claim to the woman he’d married.

  He held her within his embrace, the night air cool against his back, her body beneath him warm and yielding, and closed his eyes as he pierced the evidence of her innocence.

  The gasp of surprise escaping her lips brought him a pang of regret—tempered with pride—but it lingered only a moment before it was overtaken by the sheer joy of possession. He rocked against her, clasping her to him, unwilling to complete this act of intimacy, yearning to hold this moment within his breast as a shield against the world about him.

  If she could only love him, he thought, holding himself in check, his muscles rigid with the effort. He’d needed to know the love of another human being for so long, yearned to savor this closeness with a woman who’d care about him, whose arms would hold him, lips whisper his name.

  “Roan…Roan,” she pleaded with soft entreaty, moving beneath him as she grasped for the elusive pleasure his possession promised. If she had expected pain, she’d have been disappointed, for his taking of her body had brought only a moment of discomfort and then a surge of great joy, filling her with such marvel and wonder she could scarce contain it.

  With patient urging he led her, coaxing her with words and phrases of endearment. Finding new depths of endurance with each breath he took, he brought her to the final knowledge of passion, hearing with satisfaction the small, eager cries she spent against his flesh. And then he sought his own pleasure, only to find it increased by the evidence of her need as she clung to him, rising to his urging, lifting to his words of praise, riding the storm of his desire until it was satisfied within her warm depths.

  She clung to him, unwilling to release him from her embrace, aware of his whispered words of comfort as he rocked her in his arms. And then she felt the damp evidence of her tears, sensing his dismay as he urged her to speak to him, his voice comforting against her ear.

  “I’m sorry, Katherine. I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world.” His hands brushed at her face, wiping the evidence of her weeping, and his eyes sought hers in the darkness. “It’ll be better next time, honey. I promise.”

  She caught her breath in a sob so filled with an almost overwhelming rush of emotion she could scarcely speak. “I’m all right,” she assured him breathlessly. Her fingers sought his, capturing them as they dried her tears, squeezing them in a grasp made strong by the sheer joy that filled her being.

  “I know damn well I hurt you,” he said regretfully. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No! No, you didn’t, Roan.” Her laughter was exultant as she lifted his fingers to her lips, kissing them one by one, her mouth holding them prisoner as she caught them between her lips.

  He was relieved by her declaration, bemused by her actions, and he sought her gaze, content to remain nestled against her warmth, enjoying the sleek length of her legs as she held him a willing captive. Her eyes still dewy with the tears she’d shed, she smiled in a beguiling manner, her mouth soft and shiny, a bit swollen. His fingers, damp from her kisses, cooled as a vagrant breeze swept through the camp, and his back rippled with the chill.

  “We need to get under cover, honey,” he whispered, his fingers warming themselves beneath the fall of hair he’d managed to loosen. It lay in glossy, silken strands about her head, only the evidence of her wound marring its simple beauty. And that narrow, dark slash through her tender flesh caught his eye. It was only a crease, scabbed over and healing, but the thought of what it might have been, of what might have happened, stiffened his resolve.

  “I think we’d better try to get on a paddleboat and get off the trail,” he told her. “We can stop in the next river town and check on southbound steamers.”

  “Tired of the honeymoon already, Mr. Devereaux?”

  The teasing tone, the saucy glance from beneath lowered lids, so unlike the Katherine he knew, unsettled Roan and he lifted himself to lean over her on outstretched arms. He pursed his lips and allowed his eyes to feast on the pale flesh she made no attempt to conceal.

  Another surprise. He’d have imagined Katherine wrapping her arms across her breasts or perhaps whispering soft words of protest at his deliberate baring of her body to his sight. But she lay on the rough blanket beneath him, meeting his gaze with all the aplomb of a woman of vast experience, a title she stood no chance of claiming. His mouth twisted in a grin of appreciation as he watched her and saw to his delight an answering grin turn up the corners of her mouth, her teeth gleaming in the faint light of the moon.

  “Kinda sassy for a blushing bride, aren’t you, Mrs. Devereaux?”

  His soft question countered her own, and she lowered her lashes, an unknowing coquetry on her part, as she whispered her answer. “I’m not sure how brides are supposed to act. I can only be myself, blushes and all, Roan Devereaux.”

  “Well, to answer your question, I’m not the least bit tired of the honeymoon, Katherine. Matter of fact, I’d like to hole up with you somewhere and spend the next few days just—”

  His pause was deliberate, his eyes taking liberties as he rolled to one side, taking her with him, his hand holding her in place. He levered himself up on his elbow and leaned to taste the swollen flesh of her mouth, his kiss tender, gentle against the evidence of his passion.

  “I thought we were going to stay here for another day,” she said, her mouth answering his summons, her lips returning the pressure of his caress.

  “Um…till I get the wash done up anyway,” he murmured, distracted by the direction her fingers were taking, following the line of curls trailing down his midsection. “Sweet Kate, if you don’t stop that messin’ around with my belly button, you’re gonna be in a heap of trouble in just a minute or two.”

  “Trouble?” She squirmed a bit, edging her hip against him, and his attention was caught up by the movement. “I’m just doing a little investigating, Roan.”

  He reached back to pull the blanket over them, shielding her from the night air, leaving only their heads exposed. “Tell you what I’m gonna do,” he said firmly.

  Her hands stilled their exploring as she watched him warily. “You don’t like this?” she asked with barely concealed reserve.

  “More than I should. But I’m afraid I’ll do more harm than good if I don’t let you alone. At least till morning,” he amended quickly. “You were a virgin, honey.”

  “I know that! I never said I knew a whole lot about this part of things, but I certainly was aware of being—” She turned her head away from the glow of the campfire, her profile an ivory silhouette against the tumbled hair he’d raked about her head.

  “Aw…don’t get shy on me, Kate. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He nuzzled her cheek, inhaling the sweet scent of her, the woman smell that surrounded her. “Tell you what, I’ll show you something else.”

  Her head turned just the slightest bit, her eyes meeting his warily. “What?”

  He winced at the forlorn look of her. Here he’d spent the past hour or so trying to chase the demons of sorrow from her eyes, and in one fell swoop he’d managed to put them right back in place.

  “I’ll bet you’ll like this, Katherine,” he promised seductively. “Just turn back over here and let me show you.”

  She allowed him to nudge her into place beneath him, her gaze intent on his face, her mouth drawn down in a somber moue. “I feel guilty, Roan,” she told him quietly. “Here my brother is, dead only two days, and I’m cavorting around, stark naked under a blanket, forgetting everything that happened.”

  “You haven’t forgotten, honey. You’re just doing what comes natural. When folks stare at death the way we did, life gets a whole lot sweeter by comparison. And makin’ love is about the sweetest thing we can d
o. Kinda makes us thankful for bein’ alive.”

  “I still feel like I should have mourned my brother a little longer before I…” She bit her lip and closed her lashes against the limpid beauty of his dark eyes.

  “I think you’d already done your mournin’ where your brother was concerned, Kate. You gave him up for dead a long time ago, when you heard he’d deserted his company in the war.”

  Her eyes flew open, surprise evident in her wide gaze. “You knew about that from Charlie, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s why Charlie went to war. Like he thought he could make up for Lawson runnin’ off the way he did.”

  “I thought that, too,” she told him, relief alive within her. “He was too old to go, almost fifty. I didn’t know he’d told you why he felt he had to fight, but—”

  “He didn’t say so, right out, but we talked a lot, your pa and me,” he said simply. “I heard all about you, you know. Charlie said you were his little Sparrowhawk. Matter of fact, we used that for our password. I think it made Charlie proud, kinda. He said it made him think about you every time he was on patrol, guarding the camp, and someone would answer his challenge with the name he gave you.”

  “He used to tease me.” Her smile wobbled just a bit. “I never could see the resemblance, but he called me that for years.”

  Roan’s brow lifted and his grin was mocking. “Oh, I didn’t have any trouble a’tall figurin’ out where he got the name once I saw you on that porch, pointin’ your shotgun at me. You were about as feisty as any little hawk I ever laid eyes on.”

  “I don’t think I’d have shot you,” she confided, brushing at a stray tendril of hair on his cheek.

  “Well, I wasn’t about to take any chances. My leg had about all the damage it could stand and I wasn’t gonna give you the chance to make it any worse.”

  “Has it been bothering you? What with riding so much and everything?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

  He shook his head. “Not bad. Just catches me once in a while when I ride hard. What we been doin’ is small stuff.”

  “I don’t want to ride a riverboat. I’d rather just do what we’ve been doing. Unless you think we might get bushwhacked again?”

  He shrugged and his mouth was a narrowed line, stern and harsh. “I don’t want to take any more chances with you, Katherine. We’re gonna run into more folks as we go along and some of them might not be as friendly as we’d like. We’ll see how it goes after we leave here.” He glanced around at the encroaching darkness. “I feel pretty safe here, the river at our back. But then, I felt like we were safe the other night, too. And look what happened.”

  “Maybe we could stay with folks at night. You know, like we did at first.” She offered it quietly and watched as he considered the idea.

  His sudden grin surprised her. “Maybe we’ll stop at a hotel, like you wanted to before. Get you a real bath and wash your hair good.”

  Her yawn came from nowhere, and she blinked as she covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh, my…I didn’t know I was that tired,” she whispered, taking a deep breath and brushing once more at his dark hair. It fell forward as he bent over her, and she laced her fingers through the strands, pursing her mouth as she concentrated on him.

  “Maybe I’ll wash yours tomorrow, too. Might as well heat enough water for both of us.”

  “Thought I’d just dunk you in the shallows and have at it,” he said bluntly. “Water’s still pretty warm this time of year.”

  She shivered and drew back. “Not if you know what’s good for you, you won’t. I wash in warm water when it’s serious washing. You can just figure out some way of getting enough hot water to do it right.”

  His grin teased her, his fingers found her soft flesh beneath the blanket and he slid to lie beside her, curling her against him. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice muffled against her brow, his hands skimming over her warmth.

  “Roan? What were you going to show me? A while ago you said—”

  “You sure do have a knack of rememberin’ things, woman. Thought you’d let that slide by the wayside for sure.”

  Her sigh was loud in the silence. “I just wondered what you were going to show me,” she said in a small voice.

  His hand slid up from her waist and cupped the firm weight of her breast, his fingers feathering against the tender flesh. His breath was warm against her ear as he lifted himself to hover over her. His mustache brushed softly against the tender skin of her throat, and he bent lower to tease the plump handful with the same tantalizing touch.

  She wiggled, shifting her hip to rub across his belly.

  “Mmm…” Her throaty murmur was a dead giveaway, he decided. She’s pretty brave in the dark, he thought, rubbing against me right where it’ll do the most good. His grin hidden against her softness, he touched her with his tongue, tasting the sweetness of her, his teeth gentle as he nibbled at the puckered nub of flesh.

  She stilled beneath him, gasping at the thrill of his bold caress, tense as she concentrated on the new source of pleasure he afforded.

  His mouth left her with reluctance and he heard her gasp of protest, his lips curving in satisfaction.

  “Give me your hand, honey,” he told her. Clasping her fingers in his, he lowered them to where his aroused flesh pressed to her side in silent entreaty.

  Timidly, her fingers explored, and he bent once more to lave wet caresses on her breasts. Caught up readily in the tugging tension his mouth had resumed, she smoothed caresses across his thigh as she followed his lead with eager enthusiasm. He covered her hand with his own, and she obeyed—her fingers curling as he directed her, her curiosity appeased as she measured the length and breadth of his desire. Sliding cautious fingertips over him, she explored the firmness she’d accepted within her body, marveling at the remembrance.

  “Are we going to—” She couldn’t form the words. Brave as she was, her hands full of his manhood and all, she still found her tongue unable to speak the words aloud.

  “Mmm…” he breathed, his eyes closed, his palm flat against her belly, fingers flexing as he edged them closer to the tender flesh he’d vowed to leave be, for a few hours at least. “Maybe we’ll…” His groan was one of pleasure as her fingers tightened around him. “I think you’re gonna be a fast learner, honey.”

  And then he gave in to the lure of her woman’s flesh, his long fingers tempting, teasing and testing her. His whispers told her of her power over him, his mouth pressing hot, damp kisses in a random pattern as he praised her in silence, and then with growling phrases of delight.

  “Roan!” Her cry was wondering, then beseeching as she called his name again. She rose to his touch, her breathing harsh against his chest, and he bent to capture the sounds with his lips. “Ah, Roan,” she whimpered, her slender body shivering with delight, tempting him.

  He held her closely, her trembling frame secure within the shelter of his embrace. A sob shook her and he felt the damp warmth of her tears against his chest once more.

  “You all right, Kate?” he asked warily. “I didn’t hurt you again, did I?”

  She shook her head. “I just feel so good, so full—” Her laugh was shaky, and she rubbed at her eyes and nose with trembling fingers. “I didn’t know it would be like this,” she confided quietly. “The loving part. I was afraid of it, before.”

  He closed his eyes, rocking her within his arms, warming her against the chill of the night air. “I knew that, honey. I just couldn’t wait much longer for you to come to me. I need you, Katherine.”

  His admission was balm to her guarded heart, seeping into the secret place where her grief was tucked, drenching it with the healing comfort of his words. She nodded, her mouth forming the vow she could not speak aloud, not yet willing to surrender this part of herself into his keeping.

  I love you. Once more, the phrase curled about her tongue, unfamiliar, forming itself, whispering in silence upon her lips. I love you. Her mouth brushed
the message against his chest, and she smiled. It came easier now, she decided, forming the words again and again, breathing them in a quiet lullaby as her eyes closed and sleep stilled the message of her heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Five shirts lifted from the bushes in a silent dance, the prevailing breeze from the west catching them in its embrace. It fluttered their sleeves, teased at their hemmed bottoms, billowing them as they dried. Stockings draped over a low-hanging branch and denim pants hanging neatly from a sturdy limb were out of the sun’s rays but drying nevertheless, moving in time with the shifting wind.

  Katherine tended the fire, adding short lengths of deadwood, coaxing it to bloom anew. Breakfast was a memory, but supplies were short and she hesitated, viewing the small pile of foodstuffs before her.

  “It’ll have to be fresh meat,” she whispered to herself, scanning the bits of flour and cornmeal, the bag of withered vegetables gleaned from her garden. They’d tolerated the journey as well as she could have expected, but the tote sack was near empty now, only a few carrots and a potato left to keep company with several onions.

  “What are you muttering about now?” His voice came from directly behind her, and Katherine looked over her shoulder at the man who’d spread their clothing to dry over the landscape.

  “All done with the wash?” she asked, ignoring his query.

  “Yes, ma’am. Everything’s hung to dry. Thought I’d spend some time with those yearlings of yours. They’re gettin’ pretty frisky, bein’ tied so much.”

  He’d been more than attentive this morning, she thought, what with fixing breakfast, then heating water in a tedious process over the fire in order to do the wash. She’d watched from her vantage point, snuggled beneath the blankets as the sun turned the eastern sky to a dazzling display of color. The clouds had caught the brilliance within themselves, spreading across the horizon, providing them with a pink-and-cerise palette of beauty.