Touching Heaven

by Marie Higgins

  When she moved in front of him, he had to open his eyes. He adjusted his legs for her to move closer, which she did, hesitantly. His throat dried, and he quickly swallowed.

  He glanced up to her eyes, but they stayed on the hair as she cut. This gave him leave to study her shoulders, and the skin on her throat with a hint of moisture coating it. Many times she swallowed hard. He grinned. Yes, she was certainly affected.

  Bunching his hands by his side, he held his breath. What he wouldn’t give to take her in his arms now. But no. He couldn’t go with his urges. He couldn’t charm her this soon. He must prove to her what a worthwhile man he was first.

  She stopped clipping, but her fingers continued to run through his hair. How long could he stand this torture before pulling her to his lap and kissing her endlessly?

  Cecilia cleared her throat. “There, I think we’re done.”

  Her voice came out deep, sensual. She took a step back to move away, but tripped on his foot. Before she fell to the floor, he grasped her around the waist, holding her still. The scissors fell from her hand and clinked on the ground as she held onto his shoulders. Her gaze met his and locked. No longer did her eyes resemble the light color of the sky. They had taken on the hue of a dark sapphire gemstone.

  He licked his lips, and she copied him. If he kissed her now would she stop him?

  From inside the house, a pan fell, and the clanking echo made Cecilia jump away. Her cheeks bloomed with crimson. He supposed he should make the first move and say or do something to break this incredible spell.

  Moistening his cotton-dry mouth with a swallow again, he ran his fingers through his hair. He’d almost forgotten about the cut. “Thank you, Miss Cecilia. The haircut is...perfect.”

  She took another step back. “You’re welcome.”

  He stood and shook his head, removing the clips of hair still sticking to his head. When he faced her again, he winked. “I’ll see you later tonight then.”

  “All right.”

  It took all of his willpower, but he left her side and headed back to the fields. A smile tugged at his mouth as he silently cheered. Charming the mistress of Belle Grove was definitely in reach. And he looked forward to it now more than ever.

  OFF AND ON THROUGHOUT the day and evening, Cecilia caught herself daydreaming. Anna-Mae had to repeat herself because Cecilia hadn’t heard. Shaking her head, the older servant grinned from ear to ear and mumbled. She wasn’t purposely trying to ignore Anne-Mae. The large, dark-skinned woman was like a mother to her since they’d been together for many years. She loved the woman and enjoyed talking with her. Except now when Cecilia wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

  This afternoon had left her in a haze—a wonderful mist of pleasure and confusion. How could she have let Peter touch her like that? She’d cut men’s hair before, but it never excited her like this time. Never had it felt like she was touching Heaven, either. Being that near to Peter was her undoing. At times she thought she’d heard him sigh, which made her body tingle. She’d actually wanted to kiss him...and had almost made the first move if she hadn’t been yanked out of her thoughts when Anne-Mae dropped the pan in the kitchen.

  Warmth spread through Cecilia just thinking about how it would have felt to kiss him, wondering if it would have been as exciting as when he’d kissed her before. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she moved away from the stove and into the parlor, knowing that the heat was baking her brain right now. The open window brought in a breeze, but it wasn’t cool enough. It didn’t simmer the roaring fire building inside of her.

  Oh Heavens! What had she gotten herself into? She’d been longing for a man’s tender touch for many years, but living as a man she couldn’t allow that to happen. Now... What stopped her now?

  Hank.

  Frowning, she sighed. Her brother’s crimes stopped her every time. She couldn’t get involved with Peter because of Hank. It would only end in heartache.

  That, she could not deal with. To have something so close be wrenched out of her hands was something she didn’t want to experience. It was better to never fall in love.

  Dejectedly, she walked to the sofa and sat. Closing her eyes, she laid her head on the back. So many thoughts ran through her mind about Peter and the complications involved with having him stay here. Then she imagined what could happen if Hank weren’t involved.

  So nice.

  Before she knew it, somebody shook her. Groggily, she opened her eyes to a room filled with shadows. A blanket covered her. Beside the sofa, a lamp was lit low, making Peter’s face that much more handsome as he knelt on the floor, looming over her.

  She sucked in a breath. Was she still dreaming? She had to be. It couldn’t possibly be night already. Why was he beside her in the parlor, alone?

  Dreamily, she touched his cheek. His eyes drifted close as he cuddled against her palm. Her heart raced. She could do this now since it wasn’t real. She could do anything and it would only stay in her mind.

  She moved her hand down his neck to his chest. So muscular. His heartbeat knocked soundly against her fingers. He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing each fingertip, his hot breath blowing on her skin.

  “Do you know what your touch does to me?” he asked softly, gazing into her eyes.

  Pleasure erupted inside of her from his words alone. She leaned into him, watching his mouth, hoping he’d kiss her. After all, this was her dream.

  When his mouth descended, excitement grew. His lips caressed hers, so soft, so tender. She could kiss him forever.

  Laughter exploded from the other room, bringing her more alert. Had she been dreaming at all? Yet Peter was still on his knees in front of her, moving his mouth against hers.

  Oh Heavens! This wasn’t a dream at all!

  She jerked away, pushing him off. He sat back on his legs, his forehead creased with confusion.

  “I’m...sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know... I mean, I thought...”

  He grinned and stood. “Why did you kiss me, Cecilia?” He stroked her cheek.

  “I...I really thought it was a dream.” Once she said it, she groaned. She couldn’t give that answer. Now he’d know.

  He cupped her face and leaned closer. “You dream about me?”

  “No...I mean, yes...” She took a deep breath. “Oh, never mind.” She broke contact with him and moved off the sofa.

  “No need to apologize, Cecilia. I understand completely.” He stood and offered his elbow. “It’s time to eat supper. Anna-Mae sent me in to wake you.”

  He certainly accomplished that. Never had she been awakened more abruptly...and that made her giddy. Slipping a shaky hand around his arm, she allowed him to walk her into the kitchen. Thankfully, he didn’t comment on how flustered he’d made her.

  Hopefully her face wasn’t as heated as her body. She prayed nobody else knew what had happened—or would ever know what just took place.

  CECILIA STRAIGHTENED from her bent position over the vegetable garden and rested a hand on the small of her back. The afternoon sun glared on her already sweltering body, and beneath her clothes, pools of moisture had almost created an ocean. She didn’t remember perspiring this much as the doctor. Of course, she’d never had to labor in the sun, and she’d travel around town in a buggy.

  She wiped her moist brow with the back of her soiled glove, and a carrot stem dangled from her fingers. Men’s voices singing in the distance caught her attention, and she looked toward that direction. She smiled. It’d been little over a week since Peter had joined them, and the cane field was almost cut. Never had she met a harder worker, and from the sound of his baritone voice, he must enjoy singing with the other men, too.

  Lately she found herself working more in the yard just to catch a glimpse of him. After their brief kiss in the parlor, she couldn’t stop thinking about him, wanting to talk to him, and especially watching him when he didn’t know. Her heart skipped a beat, and she placed a hand on her chest. He was absolutely the most handsome man
she’d ever had the privilege to rest her lonely eyes upon.

  She also kept her eyes on him as the doctor. She worried the strenuous activities would pull at his stitches, or he’d hurt himself in another way. He’d yet to voice his discomfort, so perhaps his body had healed quicker than she’d realized.

  Keeping to his word, Peter had purchased a new grinder and a few other tools for the mill. She didn’t dare ask where he’d acquired the money, but she’d overheard a few stories he’d told the other men about his gambling experiences. In fact, he’d even mentioned going to a bigger city to gamble lately, so he must have won big there.

  “Miz Celia? What’s got yer attention this time?” Anna-Mae’s voice jarred her out of her thoughts.

  Cecilia turned toward the servant, grateful for her company. She smiled. “I’m just wondering how the men are doing.”

  Anna-Mae laughed, and her large bosom jiggled in a steady rhythm. She plowed the tip of the shovel into the ground and wrapped her fingers around the wood. “I think it’s cuz ya like to see that devilishly handsome Mistah Grayson.”

  Cecilia’s cheeks burned, and not from the sun’s glare. “Anna-Mae, you are being humorous again.” She shook her head and knelt to pull another carrot. She doubted her servant knew what had happened in the parlor the other evening because Anna-Mae would have said something about it. “I’ll admit,” Cecilia continued, “I’m happy he’s here, but only because he’s helped us out so much.”

  “An’ I’m thinkin’ you like him more than ya think ya do.”

  Over her shoulder, Cecilia threw her servant a scowl. “And I think you’re making more out of this than necessary.”

  Anna-Mae chuckled and stepped over to the row of green onions. “Celia chile, I know ya better than ya think, and yer sho enough taken with that man.” She shrugged. “’Course that man would turn any woman’s head. The Lawd sho did a bang-up job when He put Mistah Grayson together.”

  Cecilia turned her face away so Anna-Mae didn’t see the grin tugging on the corners of her mouth. Yes, Peter was one mighty fine looking man, but she couldn’t get weak-kneed at a time like this. She straightened her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. I’m thankful he showed up when he did, or I might have lost the cane field.”

  From down the road, the clip-clop of horse’s hooves pounded on the dirt. She looked up, her hand shielding the sun’s glare from her eyes as she squinted at her visitor. When the person rode into the shadows, she recognized her guest. Her heart dropped.

  Heath Sterling had come back.

  His brown hat had been pulled low over his forehead, but when he rode closer, his attention turned toward the fields. A frown tugged on his mouth, and he slowed the animal.

  She pulled off her gloves, dropped them to the ground, and stood. “Good day, Mr. Sterling.” Stepping forward, she tried brushing off the dirt from her soiled dress. “What brings you out this way?”

  When his gaze met hers, he smiled. He tipped his hat back on his head. “I’d thought to come give you my assistance in your field, but I see it’s no longer needed.” He swung his leg over the horse and dismounted.

  “Thank you for your kindness, but as you can see, we’re doing just fine.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the field. The men still labored away. None had lifted their heads to notice her visitor.

  She turned back to Mr. Sterling. “Heaven blessed me because I found a man who knows quite a bit about working a sugar plantation. He’s been a godsend and has helped us tremendously.”

  Heath’s steely gray eyes widened for a brief moment then he lost his perplexed expression. “I’m happy to know you’re doing better.”

  “Much better, thank you.”

  He stepped closer, reached out his hand, and grasped hers. She sucked in a breath and stiffened.

  “Cecilia, I would still like to help.”

  With her other hand, she patted his, trying to remove the one he clasped onto so tightly. “I appreciate it, but as you can see—”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  She ceased her struggle and narrowed her gaze. “It’s not?”

  “No. I still want to marry you.” He stroked his fingers along her chin.

  Panic knots formed in her stomach and made her ill. Why couldn’t she have feelings for him as she’d had as a young girl? Heath Sterling seemed like such a caring, gentle man and would make any woman a good husband. For some reason, she couldn’t see herself as that woman.

  She pulled away from his touch. “Mr. Sterling, I appreciate the kind offer, but—”

  “Please call me Heath.”

  She forced a smile, her lips trembling. She nodded. “Heath, please understand I’m not ready for marriage.”

  His brows arched, and his eyes widened. “Not ready? How can you not be ready?”

  Making herself chuckle was even more difficult than trying to smile. “It’s complicated.”

  “I disagree. Marriage between us would be the right thing. I believe your parents wanted it, and I know mine did.”

  She fisted her hands at her side but hid them in the folds of her dress. How dare he guilt her like that! She lifted her chin. “That’s not the point, Heath.”

  “Besides,” he said softly, taking another step closer, “you need me. Now more than ever.”

  She titled her head and folded her arms across her chest. “And why is that?”

  “Because the bank is ready to collect on your taxes, Cecilia. I visited with Mr. Schooner just this morning, and he said they need the rest of the money. Today.”

  No.

  Her heart sank, and her knees wanted to buckle beneath her due to the stressful weight. She swayed.

  Heath grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “Are you all right?”

  She put a hand to her throbbing forehead. Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she blinked away the sting. She must be strong, especially now.

  “I...I must speak with Mr. Schooner, then. I’ll have the money, but not until after the sugarcane has been harvested.”

  “Darling, that’s why you must marry me. I’ll be able to pay Mr. Schooner so you won’t lose the plantation.”

  “She’s not going to lose anything.”

  Peter’s voice boomed through the air behind her, making her jump. She swung toward the sound, but Heath kept his hands grasped on her shoulders. Peter marched toward them, his hazel eyes dark, his mouth pulled tight in a straight line. His gaze bore into the man holding her. The first few buttons on Peter’s shirt were unfastened, and his tanned neck displayed corded muscles.

  Beside her, Heath gasped. “Peter Grayson?”

  She looked at Heath. His grip loosened on her shoulders, and his jaw dropped. Peter stopped beside her, and Heath stepped past her and met Peter’s glare.

  “Peter Grayson. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  Peter shrugged. “Just like the plague, I have a way of sneaking up on filthy people.”

  Heath folded his arms, and one hand rubbed his shaven chin. “You have certainly changed from the runt I remembered.”

  “Years and experience have changed me.”

  Peter stood in front of Heath, eye to eye. Cecilia’s heart hammered, beating an uneven rhythm. How did they know each other? Why did they both look upset about their reunion?

  “So you are the new hired hand?” The corner of Heath’s mouth turned up into a smirk. “What a strange turn of events, don’t you agree?”

  “Life’s been treating me that way lately.”

  Cecilia cleared her throat. “Excuse me for interrupting, but how, may I ask, do you two know each other?”

  Peter’s glare didn’t move from Heath, but the color of Heath’s face seemed to fade. He turned and presented her with a fake smile.

  “We’re old friends. Peter’s family grew up around these parts.”

  She lifted a brow and looked at Peter. “Indeed? Around here?”

  When Peter finally glanced at her, the darkness in his eyes disappeared, and he
gave her a genuine, tender smile. “Yes.”

  Heath’s arm snaked around her shoulders. Her irritation returned, and she tried to worm away from him without making too much of a scene. Like a band of steel, his arm kept her in place.

  “My darling Cecilia, Peter’s grandparents lived in this area before you and your family moved here,” Heath said with entirely too much passion in his voice.

  Anger darkened Peter’s expression again, his mouth pulling rigid. Fire could have shot out of his eyes while he glared at Heath.

  Lifting his chin, Heath gave Peter a nod. “I’m certain you heard the conversation I had with Miss Ashby, so if you don’t mind—”

  “I do mind.” Peter stepped closer. “Because I don’t like the way you’re treating her.”

  Laughter sprang from Heath’s mouth. “I’m not here to coerce her into anything, if that’s what you mean. I’m just here to offer marriage.”

  Peter’s hands balled into fists, and did he clench his jaw, too? She was certain a nerve in his cheek jumped.

  “You offered her marriage in exchange for paying the taxes?” He shrugged. “Sounds like you’re swindling to me.”

  Cecilia’s heart leapt to her throat. Could she be mistaken, or did Peter act jealous? Her palms moistened, and she rubbed them against her skirt. She swallowed the lump of cotton that tried to keep her from speaking.

  She cleared her throat. “Mr. Grayson, I appreciate your help, really, I do, but Mr. Sterling and I have finished our discussion.” She pulled herself from Heath’s arm and stepped farther away so he couldn’t touch her. “Mr. Sterling, I will talk to Mr. Schooner today. I’m certain I can sway him to postpone collecting the money.”

  Heath shook his head and sighed. “I’ve already tried on your behalf, of course. But Mr. Schooner is dead-set on collecting today.”

  Fear clutched her chest, and she wrapped her arms around her middle. Bile rose to her throat, and she clenched her teeth. Now what?