Never Look Back (82 page)

But still they rode on. ‘Call yourselves men!’ she screamed. ‘Lily-livered bastards, the lot of you. I hope you all die of the pox.’

Then suddenly one man at the back of the company broke ranks and rode up to her. ‘Well, at last we have a gentleman,’ she said.

‘And what is a
lady
doing out here on a dark wet night?’ he retorted.

She felt like she’d been struck by lightning, for even though it was too dark to see the man’s face, his voice was so very familiar, and the sarcastic tone.

‘James!’ she gasped. ‘Is it really you?’

‘None other,’ he replied, leaping from his horse. ‘I do declare, ma’am, you turn up in the most unlikely places.’

It crossed her mind that she might be delirious. Why should a man who meant so much to her suddenly appear just when she needed help? Yet it wasn’t wishful thinking, he was here, the rest of his company heading on towards the fort.

She vaguely heard him call out to his men and say something
about taking her home, but she was so stunned he could have been speaking another language.

‘What are you doing here?’ she managed to gasp out as the last of the riders went by Her legs felt weak, she was so cold her teeth were chattering like castanets, and yet her heart was thumping like a bass drum.

‘I’ve got a new posting in Benicia,’ he said. ‘But why are you out here? You’re soaked right through.’

‘I was out walking when the storm began,’ she managed to get out, then her legs buckled under her.

James caught her in his arms before she reached the ground. ‘What is it? Are you sick too?’

‘No, I’m not sick,’ she managed to get out. ‘I guess I’m just overcome with shock at you coming to my rescue. I was beginning to think I’d be out here all night, unable to find the way home. But I’m absolutely fine now you are here.’

He held her tightly against him. He was as wet as her, and smelled strongly of horse, but nothing on earth had ever smelled so good. ‘Oh Matty,’ he murmured. ‘This has to be fate! When I knew I’d be passing through San Francisco I promised myself I would keep well away from you.’ His voice quivered with emotion. ‘But here we are again, like it was meant to be. How can either of us fight that?’

She looked up. His hat was tipped back, his face shining with rain water. She had seen him like this so often on the trail, and it felt as if they had moved back a few years to that time when their friendship had been the one thing which made the trip bearable.

‘There’s no place I’d rather be,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not going to fight it.’

His lips came down on hers. They were as cold and wet as her own, but his tongue parted her lips, and the unexpected warmth, the joy of being safe and in his arms, fired up all that desire which had lain dormant for so long. The kiss went on and on, growing in intensity as they clung together. The rain came down in sheets, the wind whistled around them, but they were oblivious to everything but one another.

He lifted her off her feet and took her off the path under the shelter of a large tree, still kissing her. ‘I thought you were lost to me,’ he murmured, burying his face into her neck. ‘These
months have been slow torture, I can’t believe you are flesh and blood. Tell me it isn’t just a dream!’

She reached up and held his face between her two hands, looking into his eyes. It was too dark to see their colour, but she could see the passion and love in them. In that instant she didn’t care if he had a wife at home. She had known him first, he was hers by rights. Nothing mattered but the moment, not the children up in Oregon, Sidney and Dolores growing frantic at home because she hadn’t come back. Not his commanding officer in the Presidio, or his grand family back in Virginia. She wanted James, body and soul, and tomorrow could take care of itself.

‘Take me,’ she whispered and before he could make any protest, she kissed him again, and undulated her body against his. She heard a faint moan as his hands reached underneath her cape and he fumbled with cold fingers to unbutton the front of her gown. But as his hand found her breast, he let out a sigh of ecstasy.

It was frantic, crude and rough, yet somehow it was far sweeter than making love in a warm and comfortable bed. Two cold bodies warming to each other’s touch, the shock of skin on skin, mouths clinging to one another, fingers searching out sensitive places, and the rain and the darkness enveloping them.

As he bent to kiss her breasts, Matilda held her face up to the rain, delighting in the extremes of the cold on her face and his warm mouth nuzzling her. His hands were under her skirts now, his fingers lingering on the soft flesh on her inner thighs. Nothing had felt more sensual, or so delightfully wicked, and her fingers were reaching for the buttons on his pants, desperate to please him too.

He gasped as she released his penis and held it lovingly in her hand. He pushed his fingers deep inside her, making her moan and writhe against him.

‘I love you, Matty,’ he whispered as he lifted her on to him, and all at once he was sliding into her, and it felt so good she screamed out his name.

His fingers dug deep into her bottom, holding her up and moving her in time with him, and all the time his mouth never left hers, kissing her with such passion she felt she was melting into him.

He stopped suddenly, and she realized he was withdrawing to protect her from pregnancy. She loved him even more then that he could think of her at such a moment, when that danger hadn’t even crossed her mind. He spent his seed against her belly, holding on to her, and still probing deeply into her with his fingers to give her pleasure. The last thing she heard as she gave herself up to the bliss of the climax was his whisper that he would love her for ever.

‘I’m so wet,’ was the only thing she could manage to gasp out as she leaned back against the tree to catch her breath. She could hardly believe she’d been so abandoned, or so careless about being spotted by a passer-by.

‘Wet maybe, but never more beautiful,’ he replied, showering her face with kisses as he tried to fasten her gown again. ‘But I must get you home before you catch a chill.’

They stood looking at each other for a moment, strangely nervous now, knowing they’d passed the point of no return. Matilda reached up and ran her fingers down the line of his cheek-bones. ‘We’re probably going to regret this tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘But I don’t regret it now.’

‘Nor me,’ he said, and she knew he was smiling. ‘But come now, up on my horse, and home. I will regret it if you end up with a fever.’

He lifted her bodily into the saddle, then mounted behind her, his slim hips sliding in so close to her buttocks that it felt as if they were one. With his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder, and his moustache tickling her cheek, the dark ride home wasn’t frightening any longer, or even cold.

He told her about the posting in Benicia. It was a military post around thirty miles or so away, south-east of San Francisco. Its situation was convenient should any trouble occur here, in Stockton or Sacramento. Matilda couldn’t ask if his wife would be joining him there, to bring her name up now would only spoil the moment. Maybe tomorrow they could talk of such things. As they jogged along he rubbed his cheek against hers, and told her that not a day had passed when he didn’t think of her, and that he’d begun to believe she’d cast a spell over him.

‘My little English witch,’ he chuckled as the lights of the town came into view. ‘But if this is a magic spell, I sure don’t want anyone breaking it.’

James secured his horse to the rail outside London Lil’s. Through the windows they could see only a handful of customers, for it was early yet, and the heavy rain would probably deter all but the most determined drinkers tonight.

As they walked in, both sopping wet, Sidney rushed out from behind the bar. ‘Where have you been, Matty?’ he exclaimed, his usually jolly face etched with anxiety. ‘Are you hurt? What happened? Who is this?’

Matilda quickly explained where she was when the rain started and how the Captain and his men had come by and rescued her.

‘You will remember me speaking of Captain Russell,’ she went on. ‘You know, the captain who was in charge of my wagon train. Wasn’t it strange that it was he who came along? I thought I’d never see him again.’

Even as she made this explanation, she knew it must sound entirely improbable. As a young lad Sidney had loved to hear about this man. Under any other circumstances he would have greeted James with wild enthusiasm. But he was a man now, he saw himself as Matilda’s protector. He had almost certainly overheard her talking about James to Cissie on her last visit to Oregon, and who could blame him for thinking this meeting was planned?

‘Have you been posted here, sir?’ he asked with a touch of starch in his voice.

‘No. I’m on my way to Benicia,’ James replied. He glanced down at the ever-growing puddles around both their feet. ‘But let’s talk later, Sidney, Matty will get a chill if she doesn’t get into a hot bath quickly, she’d been out in the rain for a long time before I came along.’

‘Of course,’ Sidney said quickly, taking Matty’s dripping hat and cape from her. ‘Dolores is still holding our supper,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t eat, I was so worried. You should have said where you were going. I didn’t even know in which direction to look for you. I sent one of the boys up to Mr Slocum’s place thinking you might be there.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Matilda said, blushing under Sidney’s close scrutiny. She didn’t think he was mature enough to know her burning cheeks were the result of passion rather than the wind and rain, but just the same she was anxious to get away from him. ‘Now, do you think you can rustle up some dry clothes for
the Captain? After rescuing me the least we can do is dry him off too, and feed him.’

Sidney led James off to the wash-room at the back of the saloon, and Matilda went on upstairs, her wet skirts leaving a trail behind her.

‘Oh my Lord!’ Dolores exclaimed as Matilda came in.

‘I’m fine, only wet,’ Matilda said firmly, anxious not to get a long lecture from her maid, however kindly meant. She explained how she’d been caught in the rain, and that the Captain had brought her back. ‘I’ll just have a bath and get changed,’ she said. ‘Sidney’s seeing to the Captain. Is there enough supper for him too?’

‘Sure, I made a whole mess of fried chicken,’ Dolores said, putting both her big hands on Matilda’s shoulders and nudging her into her bedroom, where she grabbed a blanket from the closet. ‘Now, off with those wet duds, and wrap yourself in this until the bath’s ready. I’ll make you some hot brandy to kill the chill.’

Once Dolores had gone off to the kitchen for hot water, Matilda quickly stripped off her wet and muddy clothes. Once wrapped in the blanket, she looked at herself in the looking-glass and grinned at her bedraggled appearance. Her hair was plastered to her head, yet she had bright pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. She didn’t look or feel the least bit poorly, the apartment was so very warm, and the smell of the fried chicken was making her mouth water.

‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself,’ she whispered at her reflection. But she didn’t, she felt elated, giddy and fizzy inside. All she hoped was that over supper she and James would be able to act naturally and not give Sidney or Dolores any reason to suspect there was something going on.

Even that made her smile. Dolores had spent her entire adult life in a parlour house and like Zandra she would be hard to fool. Yet all the same Matilda had a position to maintain, and so she must act with the utmost propriety. If one word of this got outside, women like Alicia Slocum would go into a feeding frenzy. She didn’t much care for herself, but there was James to consider, and her girls. She wanted to bring Amelia down here to live before long, and it wouldn’t do for her to hear that her mother had a lover.

When Matilda went back into the parlour, bathed and dressed in a pink gown, her still damp hair tied back with a ribbon, James and Sidney were sitting by the fire waiting for her, chatting as if they’d known each other all their lives. James was wearing a red flannel shirt and a pair of worn work pants which belonged to Albert, one of the other waiters. He was wearing no shoes, only a pair of thick socks. His damp fair hair was steaming a little as it dried.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ Sidney asked, jumping to his feet.

‘Never better,’ she replied, trying hard not to catch James’s eyes. The hot brandy laced with honey and lemon that Dolores had dosed her with had gone straight to her head, making her feel even more giggly and girlish. ‘And what about you, James?’

‘Your maid is one bossy woman,’ he laughed. ‘She snatched my uniform to dry it, wouldn’t even let me have my boots back. Maybe she doesn’t know soldiers are used to wearing wet boots.’

Matilda smiled. Normally she and Sidney ate their supper in the kitchen, but while she’d been bathing, Dolores had laid the table in here with the best lace cloth and Zandra’s silver. While this could be purely because of James’s rank and class, she thought not, it was far more likely her maid knew perfectly well this was the man she’d been mooning over for so long, and had decided for herself that she was going to encourage him.

‘I got Albert to rub the Captain’s horse down, give him some oats and put him in the shed out the back,’ Sidney said. ‘The rain’s so heavy he’d best stay here tonight. I reckon parts of the town will be flooded by now.’

At that Dolores pushed open the door and came in with a large tray piled high with food.

‘You all sit right down at the table now,’ she said.

None of them needed prompting. The dishes of fried chicken, roasted potatoes and several different vegetables all looked and smelled delicious and they were all very hungry.

‘This fried chicken is the best I’ve ever eaten,’ James said, smiling up at Dolores as she came back into the room later with more potatoes. ‘It puts me in mind of the meals back home.’

Dolores didn’t acknowledge this compliment but added another piece of chicken to his plate, then quickly left the room.

‘Did I say something wrong?’ James asked, looking at Matilda.

‘Not at all,’ she said with a smile. ‘Dolores is a woman of few words, giving you another piece of chicken is her way of showing her appreciation. I’ve got used to her now, but when she first came here with Zandra I found her quite intimidating.’