“Yee-ow!” She landed on the very spots that were still bruised and tender from the night before.
Charles helped her up with a self-satisfied looking smile that he tried to cover with a show of concern. It was as if he’d guessed what her reaction to his attentions would be and was pleased to be proved right.
“Are you all right?” He asked solicitously and would have put his arm around her.
This time, her escape was more coordinated. She stepped back and made a fuss of brushing off her jeans and shirt, moving toward the door as she did.
“I think I saw some lemonade in the fridge. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll bring some out.” She needed to get away for a few minutes, collect her wits and figure out what the hell was happening to her. She wondered if Charles could sense her growing panic. He waved his hands in the negative.
“Thanks, but no. I really just stopped by to make your acquaintance. We’ll see each other again, I’m sure.” He gave her a salute as he backed down the stairs and a smile that made her insides flutter. “Good night, now, Elizabeth.” Charles somehow made his leer seem charming. “Sweet dreams.”
Chapter 6
Afraid of being awakened the way she was the previous night, Elizabeth curled her legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch, determined to stay awake until Marshall or Henry came home. She wrote a little, daydreamed a lot, and tried to figure out what the hell was happening to her.
She wasn’t a novice at this sex stuff. She was an experienced woman. Okay, she admitted to herself, four lovers in fifteen years didn’t sound like much and it was four only if you counted Pauly Perkins, her lab partner in high school. They’d made a pact as sophomores that if nothing happened to one or both of them by graduation, they’d take care of the problem for each other.
At the time, their virginity seemed to be the ultimate declaration of their nerdom and they were determined to start college with totally new and different personas. She didn’t know then what she knew now; nerdom is a state of being, not a state of virginity. Two nerds could go at it like proverbial rabbits – although she’d always wondered about that since mice were more prolific – and they’d still be nerds; with perpetual smiles on their faces perhaps, but nerds nevertheless.
After college, Pauly gave in to nerdom and moved to Silicon Valley where no one notices nerds. He has a very smiley wife and six lovely children. Elizabeth, however, would spend the rest of her life fighting against what Mother Nature had intended.
She’d always had what she considered a healthy interest in the opposite sex. She’d read Jung, Ellis, Masters and Johnson and all the other big names in human sexuality and she knew her curiosities and preferences were well within the norm even if she hadn’t yet reached her pinnacle of ecstasy. Hell, if you listened to the experts, she had a few years to go before she reached her peak.
Other than Pauly, who was chock full of criticism about both their techniques, her other lovers had seemed pleased with her performance and she had no complaints about theirs. No, the lack of passion that led to their mutually agreed upon dissolutions had been intellectual in nature and had nothing to do with sex. She rested her elbows on her knees and propped her chin in her hands.
“Bullshit,” she said aloud and sniffed a little in self-pity.
It had everything to do with sex. She was intellectually compatible with all of them. That was number three on the list of What To Look For In A Man. She wouldn’t have said yes to the first date if they hadn’t been. They’d all scored high on the list, even Rodney until he called her a cold fish. It was sex all right and no matter how many books she read on the subject or how many manuals she studied; it was a test she couldn’t pass. And it hurt.
Two perfectly suitable gentlemen and one creep named Rodney had turned away from her because she was frigid. There. She’d finally admitted it. She could go through the motions, but she couldn’t find that explosive finish. As a firecracker, she was a dud. Sometimes she couldn’t even get the damn fuse lit.
And yet, if she couldn’t become aroused, what exactly would you call the sensations she’d experienced with Marshall and Charles?
Two absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous men had peaked her interest in as many days. And it wasn’t the usual raise your eyebrows, I wonder what he would be like kind of interest, either. This was the suck it in, cross your legs and squirm while suffering non-menopausal hot flashes kind of interest; something she’d never experienced in her life.
And here’s where her inner nerd rose to the surface. Shouldn’t she be happy with this unexpected phenomenon? Well, yes, she was happy to a degree. It was nice to know that all her parts were in working order, but why here, why now and why with two men she’d barely met never mind knew? That falling in love across a crowded room stuff was fictional bullshit. She’d read the studies. Still, this wasn’t about love, was it? This was about pure animal lust.
Having slept until six, Elizabeth thought she’d have trouble falling back into sleep at her regular time. She was mildly surprised when her eyes began to flutter and her head began that annoying bob as her chin hit her chest. She slid down along the back of the couch until her head was pillowed on the arm. The doors were locked and the gun was tucked under the skirt of the couch within arm’s reach. She’d hear the men when they returned.
Her dreams were filled with blue eyes and green, of broad hands and strong arms and lips that made her body sing in ways she never thought possible. Her breasts ached with longing and a silken fire burned between her legs. Her body yearned for release. Fear and dread mixed with the excitement until she couldn’t breathe and she fought to pull away from the frighteningly erotic sensations until she found some balance between mind and body. Her being, still tingling with yearning and hovering on the edge, was suddenly enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and protection where fear was banished and she knew she was safe.
When she felt the arms gather around her and lift her from the couch, she thought it was another part of the dream and she clung to this savior and buried her face where shoulders and neck came together. He smelled of freshly sawn wood and pine and faintly of sweat, the taste of him salty on her tongue. She suckled the spot, playing her tongue against the throbbing vein and then, with little nips and licks, she followed the tasty trail up to the lobe of his ear. The hiss of his breath and the tightening in the cords of his neck made her pay a little more attention. The dream had no sound or any physical sensations other than her own.
She ran her hand over the firm bulk of his chest and half opened her eyes at the lack of skin. This chest was covered in cotton chambray and felt much too solid and real and so were the sensations rippling through her body. She struggled a little, still confused by the fog of sleep and dreams.
“Shhh, everything’s all right. It’s only me.”
‘Only me’ was Marshall Goodman. His warm breath caressed her cheek and the soft murmur of his lips felt like the touch of heaven. He carried her toward the stairs.
“Mmmm.” She continued her exploration of his neck and ear and cheek with those lips in mind as a destination. When she reached them and nibbled along their edge, they began to nibble back. She didn’t remember the body nibbling part of foreplay being quite so delightful. Foreplay? Her eyes snapped open.
“This is wrong.” The words caught in her throat.
His lips sought hers. “It’s feeling mighty right to me.”
In one smooth movement, he dropped her legs and swung her around so they were chest to chest. She felt the heat of his hands through the seat of her jeans as he hoisted her to his waist. Her legs wrapped around him, straddling his hips and she felt his bulging center settle between her legs. She moaned and arched her back to increase the pressure. She had to stop this. It wasn’t right.
“What about Henry?” she pleaded when Marshall mounted the stairs.
“Henry’s not here. Won’t be until tomorrow.”
Halfway up he set her on the stair and pushed her back. Raining kisses on her hai
r and face and neck, his hand slid beneath her shirt and sought her breast, thumb lazily circling the nipple through the fabric of her bra. She heard his soft grunt of satisfaction when it pebbled and hardened beneath his touch and then the fabric of her bra was gone and they were flesh to flesh. This was what those romance novelists wrote about so elegantly.
Elizabeth moaned with need and regret. It was so tempting to ignore what she knew was right. Marshall smelled so good, tasted so good, felt so good. Better than good. Wonderful. But a few hours of pleasure wasn’t worth the cost of Henry’s pain and part of her was disappointed in Marshall for so easily betraying his lover for a moment’s physical relief.
His mouth covered hers and his tongue sought entrance. He tasted salty and sweet, her favorite combination. Maybe they could talk this over later…
“Stop!” she cried and pushed against his shoulders.
To his credit, Marshall immediately released her. He raised his body up several inches and braced his hands on the stair to either side of her head.
“What is it?”
What could she say? I can’t do a guy who does guys? Not very PC, she supposed, but there it was. Now, was she brave enough to admit it aloud?
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, “We hardly know each other.” It was the truth if not the whole of it.
He put his forehead to hers and looked into her eyes. She dug her nails into the carpeting to keep from running her fingers over his temples and into his hair. His eyes were soft and warm and the way they looked at her made her heart ache with longing.
“We’ll get to know each other. That will come,” he said.
He hovered over her, his large body confining hers. With her head laid awkwardly back on the step and the edges of several treads digging into her back and hips, she should have felt trapped, vulnerable. She didn’t. Marshall’s warm body enveloping hers made her felt safe.
She had an overwhelming urge to say, “Silly me. You’re right, of course. Could you show me that nipple thing again?” But her damned conscience wouldn’t let her.
“There’s still the matter of Henry,” she said instead and gently pushed Marshall back.
He reared back and looked at her strangely, as if he didn’t understand. “Henry has nothing to do with this.”
Elizabeth pushed herself up until she was sitting several steps above him. “Henry has everything to do with this. His heart is at stake, too,” she said, deciding to take the PC track after all.
“Henry?” he said sounding shocked. “Henry? I didn’t realize, I didn’t think…”
“Neither of us was thinking very clearly.” She pulled her clothing back into place and straightened her hair. Marshall was still staring at her.
“How much do you know about all this?”
“Everything.”
She wished she didn’t. She wished she could be more open minded about it particularly after the last few minutes. She wished she could pursue these sensations she’d waited so long to feel.
“Who told you?”
“No one.” She blushed. “No one had to. It’s pretty obvious.” She scooted her butt up a few more steps and stood. “Look, you’ve been very hospitable taking me in and all, but under the circumstances, I really need to move to my own place. I’ll make do until I can make arrangements to get my things.”
“Sure. I understand.” Marshall wiped his hands on his jeans and smiled awkwardly. “Before we got, ah, sidetracked, I was going to tell you. George loaded your things on his truck. He’ll deliver them tomorrow.”
Chapter 7
Elizabeth was up at five and ready at five-fifteen. Marshall’s door was closed, but when she went into the kitchen, she saw the police SUV through the window and knew he was still home. She started coffee, fried up some bacon and used some of the rendering to fry some potatoes. It was only right to do something to say thank you and there would be fewer opportunities to speak if their mouths were full.
After what she’d witnessed at the impromptu breakfast the other day, these mountain people had little concern for fat or cholesterol. Meat, meat, and more meat with eggs on the side and everything fried. There were fried potatoes and fried biscuits as well, but every man’s plate was half covered with meat. She found a plate of four pork chops in the refrigerator and fried those, too. She hoped Henry wasn’t planning to use them for supper.
When everything was ready but the eggs, she took her coffee out to the porch to enjoy the pre-dawn quiet. The sun rose late in the mountains and set early. It was chilly enough that she appreciated the warmth of the mug between her hands. She sipped and closed her eyes.
“Mornin’.” Max strode up the driveway as if it was perfectly natural to come visiting at six in the morning. “Didn’t think you’d be up yet.” She gave Elizabeth a wink. “I figured I’d get breakfast started for you so we could get a jump on the day.”
“Breakfast is ready. I was waiting for Marshall to get up. Come on in. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
“Poor man’s wore out, huh?” Max grinned and raised her brows.
“Not as wore out as you’re going to be if you don’t mind your own business.” Marshall didn’t look pleased. “What are you doing here, Max?”
“Uh, moving day, unless the plans have changed,” she said sounding hopeful. When neither Marshall nor Elizabeth responded, she went on. “GW dropped me off on the way to the mill. I figured I’d show Elizabeth the way through the woods. We can get a head start on the Home Place.”
“The Home Place?” Elizabeth asked curiously. “I think there must be some mistake. I’ve rented the Connor Place.”
“Old man Connor lived there, but the place wasn’t his. It’s Marshall’s.”
“The Home Place,” Elizabeth repeated. She looked at Marshall. “The place your Great Grandmother refused to live in.”
“Raise a family in. There’s a difference.” Marshall shrugged. “It’s changed a bit since then.”
“Not by much,” Max snorted. She checked beneath the lids and in the oven, pulled a fry pan onto the burner and turned up the flame. “I had my breakfast with GW, but I could stand with a bit more. How do you take your eggs?”
Max’s presence made breakfast easier. She chatted easily with Marshall about people in the community and about happenings at the mill while Marshall polished off three pork chops and a half pound of bacon along with four eggs, potatoes and biscuits. As he swallowed a last mouthful of coffee, he pointed to Elizabeth’s plate with the remnants of its one egg, one biscuit and one strip of bacon.
“If that’s all you’re going to eat, you’re going to fade away before lunch.”
“I don’t know where you put it all,” she laughed, “But I know where I’d put it. I’m round enough as it is.”
“Nothing wrong with a little meat on a woman.”
“Thanks a lot.” Max rolled her eyes and looked down at her slender form.
Marshall grinned. “GW has his tastes and I have mine.”
Elizabeth blushed at the compliment and then remembered Henry’s barrel shaped body. She quickly started clearing the table.
“So, what do you think?” Max asked as soon as they’d started along the path.
“Think about what?”
“About Marshall. About the pa-people. About Rabbit Creek. There’s a root around here somewhere,” she said as Elizabeth caught her toe. “Yep, that’s the one. I broke my wrist falling over that thing. Cried like a baby. Marshall was out running and found me. He’s a good guy, you know. Takes good care of his people.”
“His people?” Elizabeth was having a hard time keeping up with Max as she strode along the path.
“Yeah. Like Goodman’s Mill. Marshall’s daddy closed it down. Nobody complained, mind. They couldn’t, could they? It was his decision to make and he did what he thought best. But there’s not much work in these parts so when Marshall took over, he opened it back up as a specialty mill. There’s some good old wood on this mountain and instead of drivi
ng a dozer through to get to it, Marshall uses horses.”
“Those monsters in the barn,” Elizabeth mumbled. No wonder these people ate so much. They walked a hundred miles a day.
“Those monsters are gentle as lambs. They’re called Percherons and they’re bloodlines come all the way from France. The poor babies were scared shitless by that fire, so don’t you go holding that against them.” Max sounded so fierce that Elizabeth had to laugh, but the growing stitch in her side made it sound like a groan.
“Yes ma’am. I promise I’ll be kind to the horses, if you’ll be kind to me and SLOW DOWN!” She bent over, resting her hands on her knees.
“Oh, jeez, sorry. I keep forgetting you’re from down below. Everyone around here uses this trail. All those little side paths we’ve been passing lead to homes. It’s faster sometimes to use the paths than drive. The one coming up on the right will take you right into town.”
“And how far is that?” She would need supplies and her car was in the shop.
“It’s a fur piece, maybe three miles, though it’s a bit longer coming back.” She waited a beat and then laughed when she saw Elizabeth eyes widen.
“Uphill always seems farther, don’t it? Come on now. Your place is at the end of the trail, just around the bend.”
“I’m at the end?”
“It’s the Home Place,” Max said as if that explained everything. “Originally all paths led there. Now they lead to Marshall’s.”
“So why isn’t there another path on the other side of the Home Place? Doesn’t anyone live beyond?” They’d rounded the bend and she still couldn’t see anything.
The Alpha's Mate Page 5