Nan Ryan (27 page)

Kathleen turned and looked at him. And she was smiling. Dawson exhaled and felt his aching lungs filling up with sweet, rarefied air. His long, tense body relaxed and a grateful smile lifted the corners of his full mouth as his black eyes danced with happiness. She turned the corner and went out of sight.

The sticky traces of a chocolate kiss from the son he’d never known remained in the left corner of Dawson’s mouth. Almost reluctantly, he took a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off the chocolate. The kiss could not be wiped away.

Scott’s birthday party was held on the back lawn of the big Howard estate. A picnic supper was spread out on a long table under the magnolia trees and family and friends gathered at sundown. A huge birthday cake with three blue candles was placed before the birthday boy after the meal was finished. When Scott blew out the candles, Kathleen stood behind him and said, “Scotty, make a wish.”

He leaned his head back against her waist and looked up at her, “I wish my daddy was here.”

“I do too, darling, I really do.”

A mountain of gifts brought squeals of happiness from the delighted child and when Hannah carried him upstairs three hours later, he was still begging to stay outside and play with his many new toys. More exhausted than he knew, he was nodding sleepily by the time she undressed him and tucked him in his bed. Kathleen came in and kissed him goodnight, whispering, “Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” but the black lashes were already closed over the dark eyes and he was fast asleep.

Kathleen went to her own bedroom and Hannah gathered up the dirty clothes she had taken off of Scotty. She picked up the little shirt and trousers. Something fell from the pocket of the short pants and Hannah bent to pick it up. It was the twenty-dollar gold piece Dawson had given him. Scott had forgotten about the coin and about the dark stranger who had given it to him. Hannah held the gold piece in her hand and thought about Dawson. She looked down at the tiny boy sleeping peacefully and shook her head. She wondered for the thousandth time if she had been wrong in not telling Kathleen about the overheard conversation that had so painfully altered her life. Hannah sighed heavily, “It’s too late now, much too late.” With the gold piece in her hand, she left Scott’s room and went to Kathleen.

Kathleen stood at the open windows in her dressing gown, her mood pensive, the blue eyes wistful. She was looking out, seeing nothing. Hannah entered the room and without a word she walked to Kathleen and handed her the gold coin. Kathleen looked at it, then her fingers closed around it as her hand went to her breast and her eyes closed. Hannah understood and turned and went to the closet. She returned with a blue muslin gown over her arm and said to Kathleen, “Honey, it sho hot tonight, ain’t it?”

Kathleen’s eyes opened and she said, “What? Oh, yes, yes it is Hannah. Very hot …”

“I thinks maybe you needs to take a little carriage ride, cool off a bit fo’ you tries to sleep.”

Kathleen turned to look at Hannah. The big black face was full of concern and affection. Kathleen knew Hannah was reading her thoughts, “Oh, Hannah,” she flung her arms around her mammy’s neck, “you’re the only one who understands.”

“There, there, chile,” Hannah said and hugged her, “I know how my baby’s suffered. I don’t see no harm in you jest seein’ him for a few minutes. Now come on, I’ll help you dress. I done tol’ Daniel to bring the carriage to the side entrance in half an hour. Nobody gonna know you gone. Daniel, he won’t say nothin’.”

Kathleen smiled, saying, “I love you, Hannah,” and let Hannah help her into the soft blue dress. A lovely dress she’d never worn before, Hannah assured her the high ruffled neck set off her delicate features “jest right.” Kathleen swept her long blond hair up onto her head and was slipping down the stairs twenty minutes later with Hannah leading the way to make sure no one saw her leaving. Safely inside the carriage, Kathleen sunk back in the seat and giggled, feeling like a guilty schoolgirl while her mammy stood watching her leave, tears swimming in her eyes.

Kathleen was shaking when she knocked softly on the door of room 412 at the St. Charles Hotel. He didn’t come to let her in, he called in an even voice, “It’s open, Kathleen.” She went inside, closing the door behind her. He stood across the room looking at her, his face solemn. He was wearing different clothes from this afternoon, tight tan trousers with pencil sharp creases, a clean white shirt open to his waist he was freshly bathed and shaved as though he had been expecting her. At last, he smiled the lazy, sensual smile she remembered so well and all at once her heart was beating wildly with pleasure. His dark eyes were glowing with a hot light and she felt herself growing weak. Neither spoke. Without a word they rushed to each other and fell into each other’s arms. They were greedily kissing, holding tightly to each other, stroking each other. They kissed, they trembled, they laughed, they cried. They could not get enough of each other. Like two wild animals finally let out of their cages, they moaned and growled, they sighed and gasped. They pawed each other, they explored each other. Eager hands roamed wildly up and down over faces and bodies. Bodies strained to get ever closer to each other. Burning mouths moved from lips to eyes to ears to hair and back again, each taking and giving in a frenzy of unbridled emotions.

Finally, calming a little after the first electric shock of being together again, Kathleen, still clutching tightly to a hand full of Dawson’s black hair, gasped, “Oh, Dawson, do you think we’ll go to hell for this?” Her blue eyes were serious.

Dawson looked down at her and his eyes turned serious too. “Darling, I’ve been in hell for the last four years,” and he pulled her to him and kissed her again, his lips moving against her mouth, “Surely even sinners deserve one night in paradise.” He was kissing her again, tenderly now, taking his time, slowly and expertly arousing her again. He raised his head and looked at her. The concern had left the blue eyes and the answer he wanted was shining in them. He took her hand and started leading her into the bedroom adjoining the big sitting room where they stood. She stopped and he looked down at her, puzzled.

“Dawson,” she whispered, then moved her eyes down to his shirtfront, “before you take me to your bed, will you do something for me, please?”

“Anything, love, anything,” and he meant it.

She looked up at him shyly and said, “Will you hold me on your knee for just a minute, the way you did on the
Diana Mine
?”

Dawson threw back his head and laughed heartily and pulled her to him. “Yes, darling, I will.” Still laughing wildly, he looked down at her and teased, “Do you want to strip for me, too, just like you did before?” She gave no answer, but she smiled up at him.

Still chuckling happily, Dawson led her to a chair at the desk, pulled it out and sat down, pulling her down on his knee. “I love you, Kathleen Diana Beauregard,” he smiled and pulled her mouth to his. She pushed back a little and said, “Dawson, my name is Kathleen Alexander.”

The laughter died on Dawson’s lips, the muscle twitched in his hard jaw, and he said very softly, “My love, tonight your name is only Diana mine.” Very slowly, he raised his hand to pull back the blue ruffles around her neck. He leaned down to kiss the soft hollow of her throat. Kathleen sighed with pleasure and kissed the dark head bending over her and arched her back up to him. While his hot mouth slid further down into the softness of her bosom with each fiery kiss, he murmured against her tingling skin, “I still worship you, Diana mine.”

All Kathleen’s pain and longing of the past four years were gone. No one and nothing existed but Dawson Blakely. She was his, she had always been his, she always would be his, and she was ready for him to claim what belonged only to him.

Dawson raised his head and smiled lazily at her. Rising, he easily lifted her in his arms, holding her firmly against his hard chest. With long, determined strides he moved across the drawing room and into the dimness of the bedroom. Kathleen, with her arms looped around his neck, laughed and kicked her shoes from her feet, all the while kissing the warmth of his throat, his lean jaw, his temples. A small hand slipped from behind his head and moved timidly down into the open shirtfront, the fingers spreading over the muscled wall of his chest. Dawson’s rapidly beating heart was under her palm, reassuring her that he was truly there; that he was real, and home, and hers.

Raising his lips to hers, he kissed her again when they reached their destination. Slowly, he let her slide down from his arms while his mouth remained on hers, kissing her long and lovingly. Her stockinged feet now touching the floor, she stood on tiptoe and clung to him, never wanting to let him go. Finally, Dawson’s mouth left hers and he said through fevered lips, “God, you’re so little. I’d almost forgotten how small you are.”

Her head tipped back to look up at him, she smiled, “It’s just that I’m not wearing my shoes.” When she leaned to him, her mouth was on the level of his dark chest and she put her lips where her hand had rested. Dawson trembled. While she sprinkled soft little kisses over the expanse of his chest, her hands pulling the white shirt apart, Dawson raised a hand to her hair.

“Kathleen,” he murmured throatily, “I must take your beautiful hair down. Do you mind?”

“My love,” she said, her mouth on his warm skin, “You may do anything you like to me.”

The thought of doing anything he wanted with her was so temptingly exciting to Dawson that his big hands shook uncontrollably as he pulled the pins from her golden hair. Free of its restraints, the long hair cascaded down around her shoulders and Dawson bit his bottom lip and let his long fingers run through its shiny length.

Kathleen kidded him, saying, “Dawson, is this all you want to do to me? Just run your fingers through my hair?” Her small hands went to his wrists and she slowly pulled his hands from her hair and down to her shoulders. “Please,” she whispered, “help me with my dress.”

Smiling down at her in the familiar way she loved so much, Dawson’s dark eyes flashed with desire and his hand went to the back of her dress.

“Do you want me to turn around?” she offered.

“No,” he said emphatically, “I want to look at you while I undress you.”

Too much in love with him to be hesitant about disrobing in his presence, she laughed and said, “Good. I want to look at you, too.”

The blue dress was quickly unfastened and Dawson eased it over her head and tossed it to a chair. The petticoats followed quickly and Kathleen was standing before him in a lacy white camisole and her pantalets.

“What, no corsets?” he kidded as he unhooked the camisole.

“Not tonight,” she admitted, “not with you.”

“I’m glad,” he said as the last hook was opened and he slowly pulled the delicate camisole apart and down her arms. His eyes burning her with an intense gaze, Kathleen winced when he raised his hands to her bare, full breasts. Shudders of longing filled her as she looked down to see the large brown hands filled with the pale flesh of her swelling breasts.

“Dawson,” she breathed and swayed to him.

“Yes, my darling,” he whispered hoarsely while his hands gently caressed and aroused.

“Please,” she said and raised her fingers to his lips, “take off your clothes, darling.”

Kissing her fingers, he said softly, “Kathleen, I thought perhaps you’d rather I wait until you …”

“No, Dawson. I want you to undress right now.” She brushed his hands from her breasts and started tugging on his white shirt. Dawson laughed and pulled off the shirt, tossing it aside.

In seconds, they stood naked facing each other and both let their searching eyes roam freely over the beloved body of the other. Not touching, they examined each other while love and lust filled them to overflowing. It was Dawson who could bear it no longer; slowly, he reached out and ran his hand over her gently rounded belly. His touch brought a happy sigh of pleasure and he smiled and lifted her roughly up into his arms. Her naked breasts were crushed against his bare, heaving chest and her hip and thigh pressed against his hard flat abdomen. His hands were almost cutting into the bare skin of her ribcage and thigh.

Dizzy with desire, Kathleen felt herself being placed on the softness of the bed and Dawson’s heavy weight as he stretched out by her. Then his mouth was descending to hers again and she closed her eyes as her lips parted in welcome. His mouth, hot and moist, was on hers while his hand swept over her body, caressing, arousing, exploring.

The long, deep kisses continued until Kathleen was flushed and breathless, her hands clutching at him, slipping along his smooth brown back up to his wide shoulders. His lips moved from hers to the softness under her ear. “Kathleen,” he murmured, his breath ragged in her ear, “I love you, I never stopped loving you. Oh, God, I’m so sorry for everything.” He pulled her against him and his big body was shaking with emotion. It was more than the distinctive trembling of rising passion, it was more like … Alarmed, Kathleen pushed on his chest and pulled back to look at him. His swarthy face was contorted and his eyes were tightly shut. The thick dark lashes were wet and matted. Protective pain stabbed through Kathleen’s bare breasts. Dawson was weeping. This big, powerful man had tears in his eyes. The father of her only child was sobbing and she felt tears stinging her own eyes as she realized her only love had suffered just as she had. He’d missed her too; he was sorry he had left her; he loved her just as she loved him.

“Darling,” she murmured, kissing his wet cheeks. “It doesn’t matter, Dawson. None of it matters. I love you, I’m here, naked in your arms. Kiss me as though it never happened. I’m still yours. Love me, make me whole again.”

“Kathleen,” he moaned and kissed her wildly. Salt from his tears clung to his full lower lip and Kathleen kissed it away while the heart inside her swelled with the fullness of her love for him. When his lips left hers, they slid down her cheek to her neck, then to the hollow of her throat. “My precious love,” he breathed as his lips grew more demanding and slipped down over the curve of her breasts. Kathleen held her breath and waited anxiously for his mouth to close over a hardened nipple. When at last she felt the welcome warmth enveloping it, she sighed and put her hand into his hair, pulling his head closer while she whispered, “Yes, Dawson, oh yes, please.”