Jane Bonander (20 page)

With a shake of her head, she asked, “Why can’t we sit down and talk about our problems like two polite people?”

His gaze hadn’t left her. “I wish I could answer that.”

“Oh, Tristan.” She uttered a sigh. “You make me so angry sometimes, I can’t think straight.”

He gave her a boyish, lopsided smile. It sent her heart racing.

“It’s a gift.”

She choked on a laugh. “I just wanted to apologize. Mama and Papa never went to bed angry with each other. I…I know we’ve had our problems,” she added, hurrying on, “but I couldn’t sleep, thinking that I might have hurt you.”

He swept a hand over his body. “Do you want to take a peek and find out?”

Her gaze went to his chest again, but she blinked and glanced away, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through her. “I didn’t mean to punch you so hard.”

“I might have been able to protect myself if I’d known it was coming.”

She gave him a slight shrug. “That’s the point of hitting someone. To catch them off guard.”

“You learned to fight dirty at Trenway,” he observed.

Memories swamped her. The matron shoving her face into the swill she’d refused to eat; one of the guards slamming her against the wall with such force, she’d nearly passed out; crazy old Mamie, yanking her hair so hard she’d almost felt her neck crack; the days she’d spent in the punishment box, lying in her own foul excrement. The memories not only brought the sting of tears, but anger that had recently begun to surface.

“It was the only way to survive.”

He patted the spot beside him. “Come here.”

She went, feeling like a child in need of affection from a parent. Once she was beside him, she curled into the crook of his arm and placed her hand on his chest.

“Tell me about Trenway, Dinah.”

Expelling a tired, shaky sigh, she answered, “Must I?”

“I may never fully understand, but I’d like to try.”

She suddenly felt vulnerable, alone, and incredibly sad. Tears tracked her cheeks, dripping onto his chest. “No one, not even someone who is insane should be forced to live that way. Animals are treated better than we were.”

He stiffened, tightening his grip. “Tell me.”

She began hesitantly at first. Then it was as if a dam broke somewhere in her soul, and she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d tried. She told him of the filth, the rats, the poisonous, repugnant food, the beatings, the casual and cruel raping of the most passive, stupefied women, the drowning ice baths, the straitjackets, the small, windowless rooms that allowed no sound to be heard from the other side, the merciless torture of the punishment box, the grief, the agony, the madness of those who became that way only after they’d been tossed inside.

“A lot of things bother me still,” she finished. “I can’t stand to sleep without a light on and I haven’t been able to take a tub bath since I got here. And…and I don’t like small, dark places. When I’m in them, I feel as though I’m suffocating. It’s…it’s getting better, though,” she hurried to inform him.

She couldn’t look at him, afraid she would see the disgust on his face. In his eyes.

He hadn’t moved during her entire discourse. He briefly shifted and extinguished the lamp, casting the room in darkness.

She moved to leave; he drew her to him.

“I wish there was something I could do or say to make you feel better. Words are damned inadequate. One night—the night before we went to the dressmaker’s—I came in to tell you what time to be ready the following morning. You Weren’t there, but I found your teddy bear.”

She groaned into his shoulder, feeling embarrassed.

“It was then that I finally realized what you’d been through. Until then, nothing you said or did sounded like a woman who had suffered as you had. You were strong, Dinah. You hid your pain so damned well, it made me treat you like any other woman. Hell, that’s not true. I treated you worse than I’ve ever treated a woman in my life. I felt shame, but somehow I justified it. After all, I told myself, you continued to pretend you were someone you weren’t. I’d given you plenty of opportunities to tell me, yet you didn’t.”

“I meant to, Tristan. Even earlier today I meant to tell you. I was so afraid. Afraid that you’d boot me out on my rump.”

“I know. I could see you struggling with yourself. Even so, I should have been careful with you. Kind. Compassionate. Forgive me for being rude and boorish.”

Without another word, he scooted down in the bed with her in his arms and stroked her hair. Her shoulders. Her arm. Her hip.

She drew in a wet, shaky breath and nestled against him, feeling a peace she hadn’t known since before her parents died. “I love you, Tristan.”

Giving her behind a gentle pat, he answered, “I was hoping you did.”

She smiled into his chest, the scent of him the last thing she remembered as she drifted into sleep.

Sometime during the night she awakened, under the covers and in Tristan’s arms. She moved to leave.

“No,” he ordered softly. “Stay.”

She nestled closer. Her hand was on his chest. She put it under the covers to warm it, stopping at his navel when she realized he wore nothing to bed.

He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. His lips touched hers. She longed for his kiss, had dreamed of it, afraid she would never experience it again. The kiss deepened, yet he was gentle with her, drawing from her a sound of pleasure and the need to be close. His mouth left hers, and he planted wet kisses on her neck, flicking his tongue into the shell of her ear.

She wrapped her arms around him, loving his hard, warm flesh against her palms. The tenderness made her want to cry, for it was the first she’d known in such a long time. She held back as long as she could, then quiet sobs shook her.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, Tristan. It isn’t that.” She sniffed, wiping her face with her hand. “It’s…it’s just that I n-need someone to love me. For so long I’ve been alone. You…you said you forgot what I went through because I didn’t show it. I learned to be tough. I had to be. But even then, inside I was soft and all I wanted was to be loved.”

He swore, and she knew it wasn’t directed at her. “I love you, Dinah, but when I should have been treating you as you deserved, my emotions were at odds inside me, like two mountain goats butting heads.”

Peace and joy stole over her, and she clung to him, never wanting to leave.

Their legs touched beneath the covers; his were firm, and the hair was rough and intriguing as he moved against her. She ran the bottom of her foot along his calf.

“Your legs are hard and hairy,” she announced.

He snuffled a laugh into her curls. “That’s not the only place that is.”

Blushing, she smiled in the darkness, for there was another part of him that was hard; she was aware of it against her thigh.

“Could I…would you mind very much if I touched it?”

He took her hand, moving it under the covers to his navel. “It would be proud and honored.”

Her smile widened; her blush deepened. For all of her salty talk and audacious pretense, she was still very innocent. “It would, would it?”

“Yes.” He placed her hand on him. “Feel how he stands at attention for you? He’s a lordly appendage. Hasn’t had much to stand tall about lately, though.”

Her laugh was caught up on a breath; her heart pattered wildly as she examined him. With a bold and inquisitive touch, she folded her hand around him, sliding the skin over the hard shaft.

His lips captured hers as she stroked, and his tongue plundered her mouth.

His hand moved along the inside of her knee to her thigh, where he crept higher until his fingers touched her. She spread her legs, expelling a sigh of pleasure when he fondled her there.

“Oh, I remember this,” she murmured around a shuddery smile. She tried to concentrate on him, but her own ecstasy was fast approaching.

He groaned beside her, removing her hand but not letting it go. “Sorry, love, it’s been too damned long. If I let you continue, I’ll embarrass myself.

“Here,” he instructed. “I want you to feel something.” He drew her to her own flesh, where he brought her index finger to the top of her mound.

She gasped, surprised, for there was a nub there, hard and swollen. He used her finger to stroke her, and she moved her head from side to side, bucking occasionally on the bed.

“There’s more, you know.” He enticed her with his voice, his touch, his experience.

She continued to touch herself as long as his hand was guiding hers. It felt naughty, but she was too far gone to care. She felt it coming again, that powerful sense of pleasure that radiated through her body from the place at the top of her thighs. She arched her back, dug her heels into the bed, and allowed it to come.

When she could speak, she said, “Please, Tristan, I want more. I want…I want you to make love with me.

He moved between her thighs, gently nudging her with the tip of his shaft, rubbing it across her flesh. Though his arms were stiff on either side of her, he shook. She reached between them and guided him in.

“It will hurt only briefly, my love.” With a grateful sigh, he plunged inside, stopping at her sharp intake of breath. When the sting had passed, she wrapped her legs around him and rose to meet his thrusts.

She felt it coming again, that urgent, erratic ecstasy that made her ears ring and her body seem to splinter into pieces. As she breathed, she moaned, the sound becoming louder as her rapture increased. At one vivid, shattering moment, she had no control, but as she was about to scream, Tristan’s mouth came down on hers. He stiffened above her; she was certain she felt his seed spatter the inner surface of her womb.

They drifted down together, and Tristan rolled to his side, bringing her with him. She snuggled and rubbed her palm over his chest. He was the first to speak.

“Have you ever touched yourself there before?”

She knew what he referred to; she wouldn’t be coy. “No.”

“I didn’t think so. You seemed surprised at what you felt.”

“I was,” she answered on a sigh. “I had no idea my body changed like that.”

“There are many other changes, too. We’ll explore every one of them together.” He smiled into her hair. “I look forward to it.”

Her heart swelled with love.

With indolent fingers, he stroked her hip. “That place down there has a name, you know.”

In spite of the intimacy they’d just shared, she blushed again. “I know it does.”

“Oh, there are other names for it. We’ll talk about them, too. The first time I felt it, the night we were married, it reminded me of a cranberry.”

She smiled, biting down on her bottom lip, embarrassed. “And you’ll never be able to eat a cranberry again.”

He shook with quiet laughter.

“What’s so funny, you cur?”

“I may want to eat nothing but cranberries, yours included. Or should I say,” he amended, his fingers slipping over her thigh to touch her again, “especially yours.”

She parted her legs, knowing a sense of pride that she pleased him. She wanted it to continue. “Tristan?”

“Yes, love?”

Her heart expanded at the endearment. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

“Hmmm. The fight makes the loving that much more intense, Dinah.”

“I’ll admit I enjoy those games we played, but I don’t want us to go to bed angry with each other ever again. I was wondering, though…” Her voice trailed off.

“Talk to me, love, don’t hold anything back.”

She swallowed. “I was wondering if we would always have to create disagreements just so we can make up.”

“I have a feeling that after this, we won’t need much of anything to ignite a spark.” There was a smile in his voice.

Dinah was intoxicated with sensations. Feeling a fierce sense of possession, she wrapped her arm around his torso and held him tightly. “If I thought there was another woman out there somewhere, waiting for you to come to her, I think I’d find her and…and—”

“Punch her in the stomach?”

She rubbed a soothing hand over his. “Something like that. I’ll tell you again, Tristan Fletcher. I’m in love with you.”

“I’m happy to hear it. The feeling is mutual.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling with emotion. “Tristan?”

He made a questioning sound in his throat.

“I’d like to see your—” She leaned close to his ear and whispered the word in his ear.

He choked, coughing hard beside her.

She raised herself on her elbow, concerned. “Are you all right?”

After he’d cursed and coughed and caught his breath, he answered, “Your request caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“Am I being too bold?”

He sat up and lit the lamp on his bedside table. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He rested against the bed frame, humor lurking in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woman actually use that word before.”

She blushed. “I know it’s not proper, just like it’s not proper to say the word breast, but what should I call it, then, your—” She whispered a much less acceptable word.

He choked again, this time coughing so hard his eyes watered. “Where in blazes did you learn that term?”

Her eyes were wide. “At Trenway, of course.”

He cursed again. “From whom, for God’s sake?”

“Some of the women. Adventuresses. Strumpets. Women like that.”

“You mean, whores.”

She nodded. “There were many of them there. They talked boldly all the time. Sometimes outrageously so. I think they did it to shock people like me.”

“It obviously didn’t work, at least not for long.”

“After a while, it didn’t mean anything anymore. I’ll never forget Mitts. Her real name was Maudie, but everyone, especially the guards, called her Mitts because it rhymed with…well,” she hesitated, “you know. She had a large chest. Anyway, I remember the time she called to one of the most disgusting guards and told him that if he dropped his drawers, she’d blow his socks off.”

Tristan made a choking sound again. This time she realized he was laughing. She shook her head. “You’ll have to explain it to me, because I still don’t know what she meant. Everyone else thought it was hilarious.”

Tristan rubbed his hand over his face. “Let’s keep this kind of conversation between the two of us, all right?”

She was indignant. “I wasn’t going to write it down and mail it to the newspaper.”

He just sighed and shook his head.

“Well, can I see it?”

“I’m not sure it’s up to it, knowing how the poor thing is maligned by women everywhere.”

She was fearful that she’d offended him. “Men are very proud of them, aren’t they?”

“Believe me, we’d be lost without them, for many - reasons.” He stroked her mouth with his thumb; she captured it between her teeth. He flipped off the covers.

Then she stared. “Oh, my goodness,” she said on a delighted breath. It thickened before her eyes and grew from the bush of black hair that surrounded it. She touched it, feeling the velvety skin again, discovering the sac below. When she’d finished her examination, it lay thick and hard against his hairy abdomen.

She gazed at him, amazed. “Did I do that?” At his nod, she murmured, “What does it look like when it’s relaxed?”

He gave her a wry smile. “As long as you’re around, I doubt that you’ll ever find out.”

Desire stirred in her again as she continued to look at him. “It’s a shame to waste it.”

He drew her to him, the erection pressing her belly. “I didn’t intend to.”

They made love again, not at a leisurely pace, even though they’d done it before. It was hard. Intense. Fulfilling. After they’d finished, she wondered if it would always be that way. She crossed her fingers. She could only hope.

Morning came quickly for Tristan, but he left the bed without disturbing his wife. His wife. She slept on, snoring softly. He studied her delicate features, an ache settling in his gut as he remembered what she’d told him the night before. Trenway. Scourge of God. Satan’s brothel. He was only beginning to understand what she’d gone through. Although he suffered for it, he wanted to know everything. Any pain he experienced couldn’t be measured against hers.

With reluctance, he went to the dressing room, washed up, and dressed. Giving her one last glance, he walked to the bed, bent and kissed her forehead. She smiled in her sleep, uttering a throaty sigh.

He stopped in the kitchen, where Alice was preparing porridge for the children, and told her where he was going. Without waking anyone else, he left the ranch and rode to Hatter’s Horn to send David a telegram. He would be an impatient bag of nerves until he learned as much as he could about Charles Avery.

Charles crept to the window and watched Fletcher ride toward the village. No doubt on his way to send a message, he thought, a smile touching his lips. He couldn’t blame the man for being suspicious. It had been an incredible coup to find Dinah before anyone else had. Odell would be pleased. But because of Fletcher’s suspicions, Charles knew he would have to lie low.

He started to dress, remembering the possessive way Fletcher had silently told him Dinah belonged to him. He hadn’t had a real chance with Dinah before and he didn’t expect to have one with her now. That was all right. He had other things to concentrate on.

He was good at his job. His innocent, baby face often misled people. It had been a curse in his youth; now he found it a blessing.

He waited until he was sure Fletcher wasn’t going to double back, then he dropped a note for Dinah on the dining-room buffet, crept to the front door to avoid alerting the housekeeper, and left the house and the ranch. They would think he was gone; he would be close enough to know what was happening.

Dinah woke in Tristan’s bed, sensing before she opened her eyes that he was gone. As much as she longed to curl up and think about the night before, breathe in the smells around her, and hug his pillow to her chest, she knew it was later than she usually awakened and there was plenty of work to do.

Also, Alice was probably talking Charles’s ear off, although knowing how he’d enjoyed her cooking the night before, Dinah was sure he wouldn’t mind, as long as it got him a good breakfast.

She sprang from the bed, wincing at the discomfort between her legs. It was brief and a sudden gush of happiness made her dizzy.

Falling onto the bed, she closed her eyes, remembering Tristan’s gentleness, his concern, his lovemaking. Perhaps she was starry eyed, but she couldn’t see a cloud on their horizon. Not one.

Charles wouldn’t do anything to hurt her; she felt sure of that. She was also certain that if he tried, Tristan would protect her. They’d come a long way together. She was happy she was no longer alone. She had a family again. She had a husband, a sister-in-law, a crusty housekeeper, and eight children!

The only thing she would change would be to have Mama, Papa, and Charlotte know that she was happy and safe.