Dearest Enemy

by Nan Ryan

  Mitch responded with an ever-so-slight play of a smile around his lips. He laid a hand lightly on her bare throat and said softly, “Relax, Suzanna. I’ll never take you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Then kiss me again.”

  He did. And he kept on kissing her all the way to the hotel where they were to dine. Responding, kissing him back, Suzanna laid a hand briefly on his chest before sliding it up around his neck. Her fingers entwined themselves in the silky raven hair at the back of his head.

  His arms encircling her, Mitch pressed her close against him. Suzanna could feel her breasts flatten against the granite muscles of his chest, his heart beating heavily against her own. His lips smothered hers in kisses so hot and exciting she felt as if she might faint. It was a fever-inducing experience, and she was flushed and chilled at the same time.

  Lost in his blazing hot kisses, caught up in the passion of the moment, Suzanna didn’t realize that the carriage had rolled to a stop.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the embarrassed driver said, clearing his throat after opening the coach’s door. Mitch and Suzanna broke apart, Mitch unfazed, Suzanna appalled. Respectfully looking in the other direction, the driver added, “We have arrived at your destination.”

  “Not quite,” quipped the aroused Mitch Longley.

  Twenty

  “I’ve failed miserably!”

  “No such thing, child.”

  “Yes, I have, Mattie. Admiral Longley has revealed nothing. Nothing at all,” said a disillusioned Suzanna. “And tonight is my last chance. He returns to duty at dawn tomorrow and I may never see him again.”

  Suzanna and Mattie Kirkendal were drinking iced lemonade on the broad veranda of Mattie’s stately mansion. It was a warm, muggy afternoon with storm clouds gathering and thunder showers threatening. Suzanna had shared a long leisurely luncheon with Mitch and would be with him again this evening for an elegant dinner at his residence.

  For the past week—beginning the very night they’d met—she had spent almost every waking hour with the increasingly ardent Mitch. But they had attended none of the galas or wine suppers or garden parties to which they had been invited. Not even Mattie’s. Mitch did not, he had told her honestly, want to share her with anyone. He had so little time; he wanted to spend it with her and nobody else.

  So they had dined alone at his mansion. And taken long carriage rides around the heavily fortified city. At an intimate picnic for two on the grounds of his vast estate, Mitch had woven a garland of flowers for her hair and they had romped like happy children, falling on the grass, laughing and kissing. One warm evening they had even danced under the stars in the white lattice pavilion at the back edge of his property, a hired five-piece orchestra playing just for them.

  And they had returned daily to the secluded cottage in the woods where they shared good food and mindless gossip and burning kisses. Suzanna had insisted on telling Mitch’s fortune, and he had agreed. Carefully studying his palm, she assured him that he would live a long and happy life. He told her he had never doubted that he would. They had waded in the babbling brook and swung in the hammock on the back porch and stretched out on the fur rug before the cold fireplace.

  Throughout, Suzanna had done everything in her power to get the closemouthed Union officer to confide in her. To talk about the war and his role in it. To reveal some small tidbit of useful information she could pass on to the Confederacy.

  It hadn’t worked.

  Now, on the eve of his departure, she had come to Mattie to confess her inadequacy and to seek the older woman’s advice.

  “How can I break down his defenses, Mattie?” she asked as the two of them rocked back and forth and the first light drops of summer rain began to fall. “What must I do to convince him that I can be trusted? How can I possibly get him to talk?”

  “You’ve done quite enough, Suzanna,” Mattie said. “I warned you that Admiral Longley was not like the others. While I’m sure he’s infatuated with you, he’s obviously far too intelligent and wily to divulge anything. Doesn’t matter, there are other sources. Give up on Admiral Longley and—”

  “Give up? No! I will not give up! The Cause is too important, Mattie, you know that. Too many precious lives depend on our success.”

  “Yes, but you’ve done more than your part where the admiral is concerned. I’m hosting a dinner party this evening. Several pro-Union contacts have promised to attend. Why don’t you break your engagement with the admiral and come to my gathering?”

  Suzanna wasn’t listening. Her eyes narrowing with determination, she was thinking aloud when she snapped her fingers and said, “I know how to get Mitch to talk.”

  Comprehending instantly, Mattie turned beet-red. “No, Suzanna! That’s too much to ask! The Confederacy does not require you to give up your innocence.”

  To the older woman Suzanna said, “Oh, Mattie, I didn’t mean that. I would never…” She shook her head and waved a dismissive hand.

  “Ahh. That’s a relief,” said her friend, placing a palm on her fluttering heart. “I could never forgive myself if I thought you’d even consider making such a sacrifice.”

  “I won’t, so don’t worry.”

  “I feel responsible for you, Suzanna, and I worry about you. And I’m so afraid that the handsome admiral is too worldly for you, too experienced at the art of seduction. He might try to take advantage of you and you wouldn’t know how to handle him.”

  With a sly smile, Suzanna said, “Don’t concern yourself, Mattie. I know how to handle Mitch Longley.”

  Then and there, on that sheltered veranda, while the rain peppered the lawn below, Suzanna made up her mind to seduce Mitch Longley before he went back into battle.

  * * *

  The rain had begun in earnest when Suzanna returned to her rented rooms. The sky was pitch-black and thunder reverberated after bright flashes of lightning.

  Inside, Suzanna lit a lamp in the dim parlor and walked into the bedroom. She glanced at the small clock on the night table—6:00 p.m. Two hours until Mitch came to pick her up.

  She began stripping off her rain-dampened clothes. When she was nude, she climbed up onto the high feather bed and stretched out on her back. She drew a shallow breath and wondered if she could actually go through with it. Could she allow this man who was her sworn enemy to make love to her? And if she did allow it, would she know how to respond? What to do? How to please him?

  Suzanna recalled the times she and her best friend, Cynthia Ann Grayson, had eavesdropped on the young married women gossiping at parties. Some had professed to a strong distaste for making love with their husbands, while others had dreamily declared that they enjoyed every minute of the lovely intimacy.

  Suzanna made a face. If a woman didn’t enjoy the carnal act with a beloved husband, how awful might it be with this man she’d known for only a week and loved not at all? Would Mitch realize that she was repelled by his lovemaking? Would he know that this was her first time? If he did know, would he wonder why she had given herself to him?

  Tormented by doubts, considering backing out, Suzanna laid a hand on her flat belly. She lightly stroked the bare flesh and shivered inwardly, envisioning Mitch’s dark fingers stroking her stomach. She raised her hand to her left breast. With her forefinger she touched the sleeping nipple. She circled it slowly until it grew firm, the way it did when Mitch held her tight and kissed her passionately. She put her finger into her mouth, licked it, then returned it to her rigid nipple.

  Wishing she knew more about making love to a man, Suzanna closed her eyes and let her free hand slip down over her ribs to her hip. She left it there for only a few seconds before slipping it across her belly and down to the triangle of fiery curls between her thighs. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t touch herself.

  Suzanna opened her eyes and looked around. She saw nothing she could use. She got up and hurried to the bureau, atop which the matching china pitcher an
d washbowl rested. She poured a splash of water into the bowl and dipped a washcloth into it. She wrung out the wet cloth, coiling it tightly.

  She returned to the bed and stretched out on her back. She again closed her eyes. And she bit her lip when she passed the wet cloth down over her quivering stomach and into the crisp red coils. She moved her slender legs slightly apart and carefully lowered the wet washcloth between.

  While the rain peppered the windows and the roof above, Suzanna lay there in the shadowy bedroom, shamelessly pressing the damp cloth to her sensitive feminine flesh. Intent on feeling sensuous, she tried hard to arouse herself. When it didn’t work, she opened her eyes and scooted up in the bed so that her back was against the pillowed headboard. She raised her knees slightly and tried once more. Twisting the damp cloth into a rigid cylinder, she put it between her parted legs, rubbed it back and forth, then around and around until finally, after several tense minutes, she was panting with desire.

  Pleased with her body’s response, confident that she was an innately sensual woman who could be aroused by a handsome man even if he was the enemy, she stopped the shameful exercise. She quickly got up to draw herself a bath. Soaking in her tub, Suzanna hummed and thought of the way she felt when Mitch kissed her lips, her throat, the swell of her breasts. All tingly and warm and fluttery.

  Her intent was to focus solely on the erotic aspect of her relationship with Mitch. To convince him that she was an experienced woman who tremendously enjoyed the act of lovemaking. To convince herself that she could hardly wait for him to make love to her.

  To keep herself in a half-feverish state so he would sense it the minute he saw her.

  And waste no time in taking her to bed.

  Twenty-One

  At exactly eight o’clock, Suzanna heard the bell. She gave herself one last look in the freestanding mirror. She nodded in approval. With her blazing hair dressed dramatically atop her head and the bodice of her turquoise chiffon ball gown cut daringly low, she appeared to be a sophisticated lady. Voluptuous and hedonistic. The kind of worldly woman who would think nothing of making love with her handsome escort of the evening.

  Smoothing her frothy turquoise skirts, Suzanna opened the door. Mitch stood on the rainy stoop beneath a big black umbrella. He took one look at her and said, “Baby, what are you trying to do to me?”

  It was exactly the kind of response Suzanna had hoped for. “Why, Admiral, what do you mean?” she said, eyes sparkling.

  Mitch just shook his head. “Better grab a cape. It’s raining cats and dogs.”

  “I won’t need a cape,” she replied. “Your umbrella is large enough for us both.”

  He smiled. “Then you take the umbrella and I’ll carry you.”

  Before she could answer, he handed it to her, swept her up into his arms, locked her door, turned and raced down the front walk while she attempted to shield them from the pouring rain. But the wind had risen with nightfall and a strong gust swooped up under the umbrella and turned it inside out. Suzanna squealed and they both laughed. Their clothes were fairly damp by the time they reached the carriage. Suzanna didn’t care. And she was delighted to see that he had come for her in the one-horse gig. No pesky coach driver to get in the way.

  Just the two of them alone on a warm rainy night.

  Once inside, Mitch turned and looked at her for a long moment. “What is it?” she asked.

  He said, “Let’s don’t go to the house for dinner, Suzanna.”

  “No? Where then?”

  “The cottage.”

  She smiled, catlike. “Yes. Let’s go to the cottage.”

  By the time they reached it, both were soaked to the skin from rain blowing in under the gig’s covering hood. Mitch again grabbed up Suzanna and carried her inside. In the darkened foyer they shook themselves like a couple of dogs.

  Mitch handed Suzanna into the parlor, lighted a lamp and said, “I’ll get you a robe so you can get out of those wet clothes.”

  She nodded, but felt a shiver of doubt skip up her spine. Now that the moment was at hand, she wasn’t sure she could go through with her planned seduction. But she didn’t have long to mull it over, for in seconds Mitch returned with a black silk robe over his arm and a stack of fluffy white towels. He kept one towel, gave the rest to her.

  He inclined his head toward the bedroom. “You can change in there.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the robe and towels.

  Suzanna closed the bedroom door behind her, turned, leaned back against it and released a held breath. It was dark in the room, but she didn’t light a lamp. Dripping water on the rug, she undressed down to the skin and blotted away the lingering moisture from her body with a couple of towels. A flash of brilliant lightning illuminated the big double bed, and Suzanna shivered. Naked, she stared at that bed, hugging herself.

  She drew on the sleek black robe and tied the sash at her waist. It reached almost to her ankles and fell off her slender shoulders. She rolled up sleeves that were far too long. The robe’s lapels kept parting over her bare breasts, despite her efforts to yank them together. Finally she gave up and left the lapels alone. They fell open almost down to her waist, yet her breasts were sufficiently covered as long as she didn’t make any sudden moves.

  Suzanna walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows along the bedroom’s back wall. She stood before them and watched the rain strike the glass. She turned and again looked at the bed. If she and Mitch were in that bed, they could watch the rain falling, could hear it pepper the glass, could see the lightning streak across the black sky.

  Suzanna turned away, drew a spine-stiffening breath and rejoined Mitch in the parlor. Shirtless, he stood with his back to the cold fireplace, rubbing his dark hair dry with a towel. His naked torso gleamed in the lamplight and the sculpted muscles moved with the lifting of his long arms. The waistband of his tailored trousers fell away from his flat abdomen, revealing the small indentation of his navel. A dense line of dark hair led downward from there and disappeared inside damp dress blues.

  He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on, a fact that could not be altered by the circumstances that had brought them together. Nor the reality that she would be his undoing if she had her way.

  His sultry green eyes resting on her, Mitch dropped his towel to the floor. “Come here, sweetheart,” he said, and Suzanna felt her knees grow weak.

  She crossed to him and stood before him, her heart beating in her ears, hands balled into fists at her sides. He smiled at her, lifted both hands, put his thumbs and forefingers around the slippery lapels of the robe and modestly drew them together. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her.

  Suzanna looped her arms around his neck and rose on bare tiptoes, leaning against him. He kissed her several times, each kiss lasting longer and growing hotter and more invasive. And as he kissed her, he cupped the twin cheeks of her bottom through the sleek black silk and pressed her to his stirring groin. Suzanna could feel the hard male flesh straining against his tight trousers, pressing insistently against her belly.

  And then, never taking his heated lips from hers, Mitch found and tugged on the robe’s sash, untying it. The robe was now held together only by their pressing bodies. Suzanna trembled when he moved back a little, swept the open robe apart, slipped both hands inside and placed them lightly on her narrow waist. Looking steadily into her eyes, he drew her back against his tall, lean frame. She winced and bit the inside of her bottom lip. She was now totally bare against him, her breasts crushed against his naked torso, her fluttering stomach and quivering thighs rubbing against the slightly abrasive fabric of his trousers.

  His hands slid down to her hips and settled there. “I have dreamed of having you here like this,” he told her. “In my cottage, in my bed, in my arms. Never have I wanted a woman more than I want you at this minute. Tell me that’s what you want as well, sweetheart.”

  “It is,” she said, hoping he couldn’t tell that she was scared to death. “T
his is exactly what I want. Being here with you,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “Baby,” he said, his hands cupping her bare bottom. He kissed her as he’d never kissed her before, and Suzanna eagerly kissed him back, wanting to be as sexually aroused as possible for what was to come. Her lips moving beneath his, she grasped his bare shoulders in an attempt to hold him to her for just a little while longer.

  She knew that once their lips separated and he set her back, she would be standing there naked and vulnerable before him. She dreaded that moment, so she frantically clung to him. As if he sensed her anxiety, Mitch took his lips from hers but continued to hold her close against him, sparing her the embarrassment of standing naked in the lamplight.

  Warmly embracing her, Mitch gave her one last chance to back out. He said against her ear, “This much I promise you, sweetheart, I will never do anything that you don’t want me to do. If you want me to take you home right now, just say the word.”

  “No. I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here with you.”

  “You’re very sure, Suzanna?” he said, and both knew exactly what he was asking her.

  “I am.” Her face against his bare shoulder, she said, “But the lamp. It’s too bright, Mitch.”

  “There’s no lamp lit in the bedroom,” he said, and in one swift, fluid movement he swung her up into his arms, carried her into the other room and kicked the door shut behind them.

  Twenty-Two

  Mitch stood for a moment with his back against the door, holding Suzanna high in his arms, pressing kisses to her flushed face. As he pushed away and crossed to the bed, a jagged bolt of lightning streaked across the night sky and bathed the room in day-bright brilliance. The booming rumble of rolling thunder followed as, one-handed, Mitch reached out and turned down the bed’s snowy-white sheets. He then kissed Suzanna and gently placed her in the very center of the mattress.