by Jen Yates
She reminded him of a hedgehog, rolled into a ball, prickles bristling with ‘keep off’ signs.
Every night he wrapped himself around her, held her, hoping this would be the night she’d crack, cry maybe, at least turn to him, bury her face in his chest and acknowledge his presence. Need him.
He wanted his loving, mischievous Lou back.
In death, as he never had in life, Justin had stolen her from him.
He'd had numerous conversations with Justin in his head, pointing out he had no need of Liberty where he was now—and Levi most definitely did, that he'd given them their blessing while he was still alive—and there was no way Levi was giving it back to him.
‘I can't. It's too far to take Helen.’
Her voice was husky from sleep, but firm for all that.
‘I'm not asking, Lou. I'm telling you that you're coming with me. Sally will mind Helen. I agree it's not a trip for a baby up on the seat of the carter's wagon. But you—need to get out of this house, get a change of air and scenery.’
‘No.’
Goddamn it. He’d never had to play the heavy-handed husband with her, but if that was what it took—
‘I'm not taking no for an answer, Lou. My patience has run out. I love you and that can never change. I need you—and that doesn't change either—and I'm damned tired of being presented with your back night after night—and your withdrawn silence day after day. I long for home too—with an ache beyond bearing at times.’ As it often did, that longing jammed like a cricket ball in his throat. Swallowing hard, he continued, his voice a little rougher. ‘But we don't have the choice of returning home. We have to make our life, our happiness, in this place that has actually turned out to be good for us, Lou.’
He waited for a response, but could only discern a deeper curling of her body into the damned hedgehog ball. A greater rigidity in the curve of her spine.
Inward.
Away from him.
His heart felt as if it was being squeezed in a vice. Only Lou could do this to him. Their love had always been strong enough. It still was. He had to believe that.
He pressed his face into the back of her neck. Breathed her in.
‘Our love for one another brought us to this place—this place of no return, this impasse.’
Dear God, he was close to losing control. Without her love he had nothing. Nothing he valued. She was his life. He had to keep fighting.
‘You’re denying that love by allowing yourself to wallow in your longing to go back—to put things back how they were.’
If only she’d respond.
Argue.
But she didn't answer, didn't unfurl her body or turn to him—even to berate or argue with him.
Longing to shake her, force her to return from wherever she’d gone in her mind, he rolled to lie on his back with his hands curled into fists at his sides.
He'd always modelled his behavior on his Da, who’d often said one caught more flies with honey than vinegar.
As a wee lad Levi's tantrums had been frequent and volatile, often landing him in trouble. As he'd reached an age to be reasoned with, Arthur had taken him in hand, constantly and firmly explaining the value of staying in control, proving over and over how much more one gained by rational maneuvering than by succumbing to ungovernable rage.
But the one person who’d always been able to breach any controls he'd managed to put in place was his Liberty Louise—who was ignoring him as if he’d not even spoken.
He could handle her mischief, her flashfire temper, but Lou ignoring him, turning her back on him pushed every childish tantrum-button he had—unleashing a Levi neither of them had ever seen.
Rolling back, he gripped her shoulders, swung her to face him, and noted with deep satisfaction the startled spark of fire in her wide open emerald eyes.
‘If you’re not ready to go in an hour from now I’ll toss you in the wagon and tie you down like a drum of molasses. It’ll be more dignified by far if you come willingly.’
His voice had risen. He could hear it, but seemed to have lost any dominion he might have had over his temper.
‘You will not.’
The blankets flew off the bed, his feet hit the floor, and Lou, gripped firmly in his big hands, perforce had to follow. They stood face-to-face beside the bed, eyes blazing, chests heaving.
She struggled to get her hands free, doubtless to slap him with all her might.
Blood and heat surged through his veins, need for her almost stealing the last tenuous threads of his control.
It'd been over a month since she’d welcomed him into her body. Morning after morning he'd woken with a need he’d taken to the privacy of the outhouse—or viciously suppressed with hard work and long hours.
Assuaging that raging need on his unwilling woman would be tantamount to rape—the thought enough in itself to cool the flaring rage.
‘Be ready—or else,’ he snarled, releasing his grip on her, snatching up his clothes and leaving the room—buck naked.
Just as well Sally Carson had not yet arrived in their kitchen.
***
His Lou matched the season. She was the epitome of autumn, dressed in a rust colored pelisse and matching bonnet, regardless the garments were a little creased from having been stored in a trunk since their arrival in America.
The folds of the gown he could see peeping through the skirts of the pelisse were a soft mossy-green that should make her eyes glow—as if lit by sunshine.
Currently, they glowered, like sullen coals in a reluctantly smoldering fire.
He could only give thanks she’d decided not to challenge him to follow through on his threat to tie her down in the back of the wagon.
‘Hold the horses please. I need to get some papers from my desk.’
And he needed to be sure she stayed exactly where she was, while he threw some items in the big leather satchel he wore across his shoulder and used to carry small or valuable items folk might request from Princeton. He’d already decided what was essential—a change of clothes for them both, Lou’s hair brush, soap and tooth powder.
Anything more than that would require a larger bag and she’d likely ask questions he’d prefer not to answer—yet.
They could buy anything else they needed in Princeton.
As arranged, Red stayed out of sight until Levi hollered for him as he left the house. There’d have been no reason for Lou to hold the horses if he’d been nearby.
With Red at the horses’ heads, Levi helped Lou up onto the wide wooden driver’s seat, then leapt up beside her.
Although the sky had clouded over, the weather stayed dry, for which he was thankful. He didn’t want Lou wet and cold and getting sick again—but he did want her to himself—away from any excuses she might dream up to be busy.
Honey not vinegar, Levi reminded himself, when words of anger and accusation trembled on his tongue. Starting an argument was not going to achieve the goal he’d set for this trip. Lou hadn’t been to town with him since about three months before Helen was born.
A year—and that probably wasn’t healthy. It was no wonder she’d fallen into some dark place in her soul and couldn’t find the way out.
Venting his own ill-feelings wouldn’t be smart—or even kind.
As they passed the dilapidated cottage where old Davey the trapper had lived, Levi pointed it out.
‘The Trolls have moved in,’ he said, looking straight ahead but trying to watch Lou from the corner of his eye.
She turned in her seat to look at the tiny derelict building slowly crumbling beneath the weight of a rampant honeysuckle vine, and as she turned back her glance flickered up to him before looking at the old shack again.
‘They, the Troll family, were very happy to find such a perfect home. They'd been living in a couple of old hollow logs in the woods and a real house was a palace to them. When Mr. Troll told Mrs. Troll about it she didn't believe him, told him he was dreaming and just trying to tease her with something
they both knew was impossible. Trolls don’t live in real houses. So—’
Damn, he wished he could watch her face, see the moment the light went back on in those beautiful eyes.
For it had suddenly dawned on him, he'd found his own dark place these last few weeks. He’d immersed himself in his feelings of hurt and resentment because Lou had not leapt into his arms with excitement and delight when he’d proposed to her—the moment they both knew she was free to marry again.
They'd both gone to the dark place where dreams died and fantasy suffocated for lack of light—and love.
‘How did Mr. Troll convince Mrs. Troll?’
Her voice was husky, as if rusty from disuse—and that might well be true. Nothing but the most banal necessities had passed between them since they’d read Mama’s last letter.
His heart surged in his chest. His storytelling was a bit rusty from disuse too, he thought wryly.
‘He took the whole family for a walk in the woods looking for truffles. Trolls love truffles—they call them troffles—’
A soft snort from Lou spurred him on.
‘—and every time Mrs. Troll complained about how far they’d come, and whined about wanting to go home, he would spy another likely nest of troffles and in that way he brought her at last to the cottage—’
‘—and she fell in love.’
‘Not until he pointed out there was a room with a door on it, which they could close against the inquisitive eyes of the numerous little trolls they'd created between them. Then, he had to demonstrate, by taking her in there and locking the door—after telling the little trolls to amuse themselves exploring around their new home. Then he set about convincing her. Mr. Troll could be very convincing when he set his mind to it.’
Silence followed the end of his short burst of fantasy and then she warmed his heart from the core.
‘Mrs. Troll must be a sore trial to him sometimes.’
‘Mrs. Troll is a very beautiful, deep-feeling woman and Mr. Troll loves her deeply—but sometimes he's a real troll and thinks he should be all she thinks about, all she cares about. Of course Mrs. Troll’s heart is so all-encompassing, so tender, she cares about everyone. Mr. Troll needs to get his head out of his arse and just love her and allow her to be—who she is. He needs to accept—understand—that her love for others doesn't mean she doesn't also love him.’
Her hand crept on to his knee and his heart swelled, like a hard dry sponge soaking up moisture after a drought.
‘Please don't make me cry.’
‘Why not? I think you need to cry, Lou.’
‘If I start, I'm not sure I can stop.’
‘Ah—would you like to drive for a while?’
Her smile, watery though it was, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
***
‘Well, Mrs. Troll, what do you think of your new abode?’ The stars were back in his midnight blue eyes and his straight black brows danced that way they did when he was planning mischief. ‘It has a room with a door we can lock.’
‘But—Helen—’
‘Will be perfectly happy with Sally, her fairy godmother. Mr. and Mrs. Troll are having a little holiday. We need this time, Lou. We need to find each other again.’
He opened his arms and she fell into them just as he'd been hoping and praying she would.
Trouble was, instead of fastening her mouth to his and allowing him to kiss her senseless, she buried her face against his chest and burst into tears.
Gently he undid the ribbons of her bonnet and tossed it aside. Then, walking them both across to the huge four poster bed, he fell onto it with her clasped in his arms.
Making love to Lou, as his body so desperately desired, was not going to happen right now. There was much they needed to talk through and share before that could happen.
Even during the time of her marriage to Justin they’d not been this alienated from one another.
Lou in his arms, crying her heart out was a start.
‘I’m such a wicked person, Levi.’
Oh Fuck. He should have understood. Had only been thinking about how he felt.
‘Why do you say that, love?’
Her sobs had eased to occasional hiccups, his shirt was sodden and sticking to his chest, but her arms were wrapped tightly about his body and she was burrowing into him as if she would climb inside him.
Soon—he would climb inside her—
But he could wait.
He would.
‘I let Mama and Papa down—and shamelessly courted scandal that would ruin Charity and Verity’s chances of making good marriages. I let Justin down, being selfish in coming to you, breaking my vows, and then—and then—and then abandoning him—and allowing Papa to incriminate himself by declaring me dead—and—and then tearing you away from your life and your family—and then—and then treating you like some sort of indescribable villain when you asked me to marry you.’
He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in.
‘Ah, sweetheart, I was an insensitive oaf. Doubtless, Mr. Troll could have handled the situation better. All I've ever wanted was to make you mine—to be able to legally call you my wife, Mrs. Levi Longfellow. That was what Justin’s death meant to me.’
‘I’m s-sorry,’ she whispered, her hands twisting the sodden front of his shirt.
‘It’s all right. I understand now,’ he soothed, running his fingers through the soft auburn curls falling onto her forehead. ‘I had no thought for what you'd come to feel for him—or how inevitable it was you’d fall into a wallow of guilt. You’re not wicked, Lou. Your heart is too big—and all the men in your life, your papa, Justin—and me—the original Mr. Troll—have made grossly unfair demands of you.’
Taking her with him, he rolled to his back, cupped her face between his palms and pressed his lips softly to hers. Her eyes were still troubled. She still looked lost. Still needed more from him than just the passion she inspired in him.
He pressed his lips to her forehead.
‘Did you know this hotel has piped water and there’s a private bathroom just through that door?’ he murmured against her skin.
‘Really?’
Lou lifted her head and her eyes widened as she took in their surroundings.
A luxurious room in the best hotel in Princeton.
He'd been carefully husbanding their funds since coming to America and he was beginning to feel easier about their future. He'd established himself as a carrier and stables, and had begun a stud breeding operation.
That last was his dream and would take time to build but he'd begun.
Staying three nights in the best hotel in Princeton was an extravagance, but it also felt like a necessity.
They needed to find their direction again.
Needed to find each other again.
Together they checked out the bathroom.
A huge smile bloomed on Lou’s tear-streaked face and love, joy and—relief—surged in his heart.
‘We can both fit in that bath—’
‘We can.’
And they did.
Chapter 15.
The heat of the water and the promise of Levi’s big body intimately enclosing hers, ignited a flame in her belly, setting off tiny explosions at every erogenous point.
It was the most luxurious bath Liberty had ever had—and the most erotic.
Levi, hard and hot behind her, hands soaping her breasts, muscular thighs bracketing hers and their feet tangling together, brought every dormant nerve-ending back to life.
Every cell in her body danced in anticipation of what would come next.
Lost, and dead, was how she’d felt and she never wanted to feel that way again. Something vital within her had crumbled with the knowledge of Justin’s death.
It was not so much that she’d loved him—more that she hadn’t. Not as he’d loved her.
He’d deserved so much more.
But she’d forgotten he’d also told her to be happy.
That her happiness would be his.
Hunger for that happiness, for Levi, surged through her and she twisted in his lap, struggling to reach his mouth. Kiss him. Show him she was ready. Loved him.
‘Lou? I want you.’
As if by main force, his words thrust her up onto her knees between his legs.
There was no hiding his need.
His erection was obvious the moment he’d undressed to get in the bath and had been pressing against her backside the whole time they’d luxuriated in the water.
The surprise was that suddenly her own body was as eager, as needy, when it had been an age since she’d felt this burning desire—had feared she might never feel it again.
She surged up out of the bath and reached for a large fluffy towel.
‘Mr. Troll, come and get me.’
She’d scarcely dragged the towel over her body before he scooped her up and carried her back to the big bed in the other room.
‘About time, Mrs. Troll,’ he growled, stopping only long enough to make a cursory effort at drying himself before falling on her, mouth and hands everywhere.
Liberty met him with a passion welling up from within, generated by her love for this patient, sexy man.
Her man.
‘Love me, Levi.’
Soft and guttural, a groan rumbled through his chest. Catching her hips, he pulled her hard against his erection.
‘God yes, Lou.’
The terrible sense of wandering in the desert finally dispersed and Liberty gave herself wholly to the power of Levi’s loving.
Fierce and urgent, their coming together was a violent outpouring of the need for each other they’d suppressed over the last weeks, an energy-sapping explosion of passion, that left them limp and exhausted in each other’s arms.
When Liberty next opened her eyes, Levi lay like a great sated—troll—beside her. She choked back laughter.
God, she loved him and couldn’t wait another moment to tell him so.
‘Wake up, Mr. Troll. I have something to say,’ she sang, sliding off the bed and trying to pull him upright.
‘What?’
‘Wake up. I have something to say.’