Peering up between the bench and the table she spotted Grayson and Riker still locked in a fist-to-fist struggle. At some point Grayson had peeled off his uniform coat, freeing his arms to swing more easily. He was bleeding from a cut on his right cheek, but Riker's face was covered with blood, his nose cocked at an odd angle. Fueled by blind fury, Riker shouted obscenities, swinging wildly. Grayson ducked and dodged with the grace of a dancer, his muscles rippling beneath his torn muslin shirt. The men went round and round, neither gaining much ground until Grayson sunk a fist into Riker's stomach and the dark-haired man spun around, stunned, and slumped onto the table above Maggie's head.
"Son of a bitch!" she shouted, grabbing a pewter tankard as it rolled by. Lifting the tankard she brought it down sharply on Riker's foot, and the semiconscious man bellowed with pain. Leaping up, he spun around and tripped over a prone body. "Where are you, Thayer?" he shouted, stumbling, blinded by the blood running down his face. "Where the hell are you?"
Maggie watched as he disappeared into the crowd of angry soldiers.
Just then two men came up behind Grayson, and Maggie gave a scream as they both bore down on him at the same time. Somehow Grayson managed to dodge them both, and came up swinging. Lifting one arm into the air, he heaved him forward, knocking the man's accomplice to the ale-drenched floor.
Maggie couldn't resist a yelp of approval.
The sound of her voice caught Grayson's attention. "Maggie?" He wiped his face with his sleeve, and in the process spotted Maggie beneath the table. "Maggie?"
"Don't you Maggie me," she snapped, suddenly recalling that this whole fight was his fault in the first place. If he'd just minded his own business and not insisted upon coming to her rescue, Manny's windows would still be intact!
"Maggie, you all right. Not hurt, are you?" He bent over.
"I don't need you to tend my business, Grayson Thayer," she shouted from beneath the table. "I did fine before you came along, I'll be fine when you go!"
"I just wanted to help." He ducked as half a table flew by, hit the rough-hewn wall and splintered into pieces.
"Help, indeed! You call this help?" she fumed, opening his arms in protest.
"Look, Maggie." Grayson eased down on his knees, trying not to wrinkle his pressed breeches any worse than they already were.
"Get away from me, Grayson." She crawled backward. "You wanted a fight? You got one! Go ahead! See if you can bust some more heads!"
"Maggie!" He ducked his head, and crawled under the table. "Damn, it's wet under here!" He pushed a glob of congealing potatoes and gravy aside and moved closer to her.
"Yes, it's wet under here!" she shouted backing up against the wall. "It'll take a week to clean this place up. You know how much business Manny will lose in a week's time?"
"I didn't mean to start a fight, but Riker, he's been asking for it since the day he stepped foot in camp."
She crossed her arms over her chest, her legs drawn up beneath her. "So did it have to be in my brother-in-law's tavern?"
"We'll pay for it."
"Damned straight you'll pay for it!"
Something crashed on the table above and both of them ducked, covering their heads with their hands. When Maggie looked up, Grayson was grinning.
"What?" she demanded. "What's so funny?" She couldn't help smiling back; his grin was infectious.
"Us." He began to chuckle.
"Us?"
"We started the fight, and here were are safe and sound while they're up there getting their heads cracked!"
Maggie suppressed a chuckle, though she was still angry with Grayson. It really was funny. The sounds were deafening. Furniture was splintering, men were groaning and shouting, and Manny was hollering above it all, trying to get the men out of the tavern and onto the lawn before the walls caved in.
"So now what?" Grayson asked, still lost in laughter.
Maggie clutched her stomach. "We get out of here, don't we?"
"Out of here?" Grayson peered out at the commotion. "You're kidding."
She shook her head. "Just follow me, Captain." She gave a wink, and then dropped onto all fours and crawled over his legs and out from under the table.
Unable to control the urge, Grayson stroked her bottom as she crawled past him. Maggie swatted at his hand, but kept moving.
"Come on!" she called over her shoulder. "Hurry! Manny's gone for his rifle. He's hoppin' mad! He finds out we were part of this and both our tails'll be in a sling!"
Still laughing, Grayson gave up on staying clean and crawled out from under the table after Maggie.
She led him along the wall, under a table, over a bench. Pewter plates and forks flew over their heads, but Grayson kept crawling. Once she stopped short as a man fell to the floor in front of her. Grayson caught her bare foot and tickled her as she crawled around the prone body.
"Cut it out!" she giggled. "Cut it out or I'll clobber you with something!" She threw, an empty salt cellar over her shoulder and Grayson had to duck to keep from getting hit.
Just as they reached the open door, Grayson heard someone shout his name from behind.
It was Riker. Out of the corner of his eye, Grayson saw him coming at him from across the room.
Maggie leaped up and grabbed Grayson's hand. "Come on!" she shouted. "Hurry!"
They slipped out the door, and hand and hand they sprinted across the road. Instead of taking the road to the east, Maggie led him straight into a greenbrier thicket.
"How the hell are we going to get through that?" Grayson protested, still allowing her to drag him along.
She jerked his hand. "Trust me!"
Following her into the thicket, he watched with amazement as Maggie drew back what looked like a wall of greenbriers and slipped through. "Hurry!" she urged.
Grayson ducked through the hedgerow and she eased back the wall of spiny vines.
"Ouch!" she muttered, holding up a finger. A single drip of crimson blood oozed from the tip.
Without thinking, Grayson grasped her hand and closed his mouth over her finger.
Maggie gave a little gasp and then looked up, her dark gaze meeting his. This man, he was like a fever that just wouldn't let up. "We have to hurry," she whispered, feeling the heat of his mouth and the wet of his tongue on her finger. "He's liable to come after you."
"Where're we going?"
"My place." She looked down at the ground and then back up at him. "Your cheek's bleedin'. I'll clean you up and then you can go back to the camp."
Grayson slipped her finger from his mouth and then took a firm hold on her hand. "Lead the way; I'm at your mercy."
Maggie dashed off, and hand and hand they ran through the thicket of trees, through Carter's west bean patch, across the road, over a dry streambed, and through Devil's Woodyard. Both panted in the heat of the humid night, but it felt good to run. Their lungs were filled with air and their hearts beat with adrenaline.
Maggie led Grayson over her back fence and onto her own land before she finally slowed to a walk. She released his hand and clutched her stomach, panting for breath.
Side by side they walked through the weedy field and down her dusty drive. "Holy Mary, I've got to have a drink before I pitch over," Maggie declared, heading for the well.
Grayson followed her to the brick well and watched as she drew up a bucket of water. What a sight to behold. Maggie was in the twilight, with her hair strewn down her back, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, her sunburned face dotted with perspiration.
She lifted the wooden bucket onto the side of the well and took a dipper to scoop out some water. She drank greedily, letting droplets dribble off the dipper to dampen the bodice of her simple cotton gown.
"Ah, that's good," she murmured as she handed him the ladle.
As Grayson drank, she dipped her hands into the bucket and splashed water onto her face and bare neck. When she spied him watching her, she flicked the water off her fingertips into his face, laughing.
Grayso
n took the dipper and flung the remainder of its water onto her. "Oh!" She squeezed her eyes shut at the shock of the icy water in her face.
Grayson snickered.
She grabbed a pewter cup off the well wall and dipped into the bucket. "Two can play that game, Captain!" She threw the water at him and then screamed with laughter, dodging as he reached for another dipper of water.
Grayson ran after her, and when he drew close enough, he threw the dipper of water at her, splashing it down her dress. Maggie squealed and ran for the bucket.
Her next cup of water hit Grayson square in the chest, soaking his white muslin shirt and plastering it to his chest.
As Grayson wiped his shirt, she lifted the bucket and threw the contents.
"Damn!" Grayson shouted. "That's cold, woman!"
She dropped the bucket down the well and hauled it up as fast as she could.
"Don't you dare, don't you dare," he threatened, wiggling a finger, "or you'll be sorry." He wiped his face wet from the dousing she'd already given him.
She only laughed harder. But when he made a move toward her, she dropped the bucket full of water and ran. A moment later Grayson tackled her and they fell to the grassy ground.
"Let go! Let go of me," she screamed, tears of laughter running down her face as she tried to crawl away. "You're wet!"
He rolled her onto her belly and caught her wrists, pressing her into the sweet, pungent grass. "I've got news for you, sweetness, you're wet, too, but you're going to get even wetter!"
Maggie screamed and tried to scramble out from under him, but he held her tight, dragging her toward the well. Reaching the well, with Maggie still trapped beneath him, Grayson lifted the bucket and poured the entire thing over her head.
Maggie spit and sputtered as Grayson laughed, the two of them now soaked to the bone. "You don't play fair!" she protested, kicking. "You don't—"
Then suddenly, his warm lips were on hers. She stopped struggling, and lifted her arms to caress his muscular shoulders.
"Ah, Maggie, Maggie," he murmured, showering her dewy face with kisses. "Maggie, I need you."
I need you . . . The words pounded in Maggie's head as his kiss deepened. He needed her. She needed him, what was the wrong in that?
He pressed his searing mouth to the soaked material of her bodice. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard the cotton cloth tear, but she didn't care. All she cared about was Grayson and the wonderful things he was doing to her with his mouth and his hands.
She felt the warm night air caress her bare breasts, but she only laughed, flinging back her head. She threaded her fingers through his golden hair and guided his mouth down to her ripening nipple.
"Grayson," she said, her voice breathy.
"Just tell me to stop," he whispered as he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked gently.
"No," she answered. "Don't stop. Not this time . . ."
Chapter Nine
Maggie lay still in the fragrant, damp grass as she allowed Grayson to remove her wet skirt and the tattered bodice he'd torn. His fingertips caressed her quivering flesh through the clingy, transparent cotton of her shift and she sighed. She'd had no idea sins of the flesh could be so wondrous!
With Noah she'd never felt more than a stir of sensation as if the fulfillment had been there lurking behind some great wall inside her but was unattainable. From the first night they shared a bed as man and wife, her husband had made no attempt to please her, only himself. His lovemaking had been rough and fast, as if he found her distasteful.
Those first nights Maggie had lain awake and cried long after Noah snored beside her. But she'd grown used to what her mother had called "wifely penance" and soon it was nothing more to her than a nightly ritual like cleaning her teeth. Still, when Noah had returned from the war and moved to his own room, Maggie had been grateful; her only regret was knowing that she would never conceive and give birth to a child of her flesh.
Grayson's mouth twisted hungrily against Maggie's, pressing her into the grass. "Maggie, Maggie mine," he whispered.
She lifted up to meet him halfway, savoring the taste of him. She knew she shouldn't be letting him touch her like this. It was wrong. Grayson Thayer was the enemy. But this was what she had wanted from the first moment she'd met him outside Manny's tavern. This man filled a void in her that no one had ever filled before, that she feared no one would ever fill again. He excited her; he made her feel strong and bold, as if she could conquer the world, or at least Mother England. What harm could there be in that?
She knew this could only be a passing fancy. She knew Grayson wouldn't stay long, wouldn't need her long. A day, a week, a month and then he would move on to another war, another camp, another woman. But right now was what mattered to Maggie, not tomorrow, not next week. She didn't even know for certain that there would be a tomorrow. Right now Grayson made her feel alive in a way she'd never felt alive before. How could she deny herself even the briefest moment of happiness, a happiness she would savor the rest of her life?
Grayson sat up, his body straddling hers, and began to pull off his clothing. Maggie's fingers ran over his, helping him, laughing as she threw his white vest into the air. Yes, this man wanted her and she wanted him. Tomorrow she would worry over the consequences.
The three-legged coon hound, Roy, caught Grayson's uniform vest in his teeth and ran with it, Honey following after him. The crippled Roy ran so awkwardly that Honey quickly caught up and a tug-of-war ensued. Grayson and Maggie laughed at the sight of the dogs fighting over the bit of clothing. The sound of rending cloth filled the hot night air and suddenly each of the two dogs had their own bit of the vest. Maggie's gaze traveled back to Grayson's, her dark eyes still laughing, as the hounds disappeared under the front porch with their booty.
"Those filthy dogs owe me a new vest," Grayson protested as he peeled off his wet white shirt.
"This is war, Captain. I can't be held responsible for their actions."
Grayson stole a kiss and she reached out tentatively to touch his nipple. It was a tiny nub, soft and pliable, but to her surprise it hardened beneath her fingertips. "The feeling is the same for you as for me?" she murmured in awe, watching Grayson's face as his eyes drifted shut.
"Nice," he answered.
She lifted up and touched her tongue to his nipple curiously.
"Better," he groaned.
She flung herself back on the grass, smiling up at him as he lowered his head to nuzzle her aching breasts. "I didn't know it could be like this," she said softly, already adrift in the sensations his tongue created.
"You said you were married," he answered, kissing his way to the soft spot at the base of her neck. "Surely—"
"What Noah did to me was nothing like this. It never felt good." She ran her hands over his broad, sinewy shoulders exploring every inch of his muscular back. "He made me feel dirty, like it was wrong for him to touch me."
"Wrong?" Grayson stretched over her, brushing a firelit tendril off her forehead. "How could it be wrong? This is what God made man and woman for."
This and to make babes, Maggie thought. Wouldn't it be a wonderful thing if this man gave me a child tonight? Then I would have a piece of Grayson, of the happiness we share here tonight to keep with me the rest of my life.
"This is what I was made for?" she asked him, holding his blue-eyed gaze.
He kissed her softly on the mouth, his tongue darting out to test her lower lip. "Yes, Maggie. You were made for love like no woman I've ever known."
"Then show me." She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him down onto her so that she could feel his bare chest against hers, flesh to flesh. "Show me, Grayson. Love me, if only for tonight."
A lump rose in Grayson's throat as he buried his face in her thick chestnut brown hair. Love you? I'll love you for tonight, and for always, Maggie mine, he thought. But he couldn't bring himself to say the words. It wasn't right. It wouldn't be fair to her to draw her into his lies. Yet he knew he could
n't tell her who he really was; he would be risking her life as well as his own. Maggie was right. This was for tonight. Only for tonight and then he would never touch her again, he vowed.
Bringing his mouth down hard against hers, Grayson pushed all conscious thought from his mind. Just for a few moments he wanted to forget who he was, who she was . . . He wanted to feel loved, to feel needed. He wanted to make Maggie happy.
Their tongues intertwined in a dance of love and he swept his hand over her soft curves, reveling in the moans of pleasure that escaped her lips. God, she felt good beneath him, her body all damp and sweet-smelling like the grass.
Rolling off her so that he could lie at her side, he propped himself on his elbow. "So beautiful," he murmured as she looked up at him, drowsy with sensation.
"Brazen, maybe," she answered, enjoying the feel of his hot gaze on her naked flesh, "but never beautiful."
Grayson leaned to touch his mouth to hers as he began to tentatively stroke her through the wet cotton of her shift. Then, pulling the damp material over her head, his fingers found the hollow of her belly. He traced intricate patterns, his fingertips sweeping her creamy thighs. When he brushed the bright triangle of down between her legs, her eyelids fluttered.
"Oh," Maggie whispered, stroking the banded muscles of his arm. "Tis wonderful."
Grayson smiled in the semidarkness. So honest . . . she was so breathtakingly honest. He leaned to suckle one breast and then the other, and then he moved lower.
"Grayson," she moaned, threading her fingers through his hair. Her entire body was aflame with desire. Oh, what he was doing to her with his tongue? "Grayson, please . . ."
"Please what?" he asked, a husky catch in his voice.
"Please don't torture me like this." She put her arms out to him. "I need to feel you . . . to feel you inside me," she whispered. A curious, hot excitement filled her as she watched him sit up and remove the remainder of his clothing. When he unhooked his breeches she shamelessly lowered her gaze to his engorged shaft.
Grayson laughed softly, intimately. He'd never had a woman so refreshingly bold, so willing to admit to her own sensuality.
The Bootmaker's Daughter: Revolution (Destiny's Daughters Book 2) Page 10