Runaway, p.13
Runaway, page 13
“Early.” His gaze was piercing as Will turned it in her direction, his nostrils flaring as he examined her in the dim light.
Cassie felt a surge of heat wash over her face. She stepped back from the stall. “I think I’ll go in and get ready for bed,” she told him in a rush of words. “I’ll want to help with breakfast and gather the eggs before we go.”
His nod was silent agreement and she sensed his attention on her back as she left the barn.
Tomorrow. Will would marry her tomorrow.
As weddings went, it was short and sweet. Although never having been a guest at an actual church ceremony, only listening quietly in a corner as her mother married Remus Chandler several years ago, Cassie didn’t consider herself a worthy judge of such events.
She and Will stood before the Methodist minister in Mill Creek. He was a tall, slender young man, whose wife was splendid in dark curls and a ruffled dress, standing up as a witness. Will was handsome in a white shirt, his tie a narrow black string, tied in a bow at his collar.
Cassie wore one of her new dresses, an everyday gingham, but new and crisp and barely wrinkled from the buggy ride. She was short of breath, her vows spoken in a low voice that sounded as if it might belong to someone else, so scant was her ability to utter the words.
“Till death do us part,” Will said firmly, his eyes locked with hers, his hands warm as he enclosed both of hers within his grasp. Solemn and looking older than the twenty-seven years he claimed, he slid a plain gold band on her left hand, easing it past her knuckle and twisting it in place.
“I don’t plan on you ever takin’ it off, Cassie,” he whispered as she spread her fingers to admire its fit.
Startled, she lifted her gaze to his and found him offering her a smile that reached the depths of his dark eyes. “This is forever, honey,” he told her quietly.
Her nod accepted his decree. A wave of tenderness for the man she had shared her vows with spread over her like the incoming tide. As if it washed away the hurts and fears of her past, leaving only a blank page upon which to write her future.
Will Tolliver had married her. As they made their farewells to the preacher and his wife, as they walked to the Tolliver buggy parked in front of the parsonage and as they rode through the small town of Mill Creek, Missouri, Cassie’s mind sang the refrain over and over.
Will Tolliver had married her. She was no longer Cassie Phillips, runaway, but Cassie Tolliver, wife.
Flashing a glance in his direction, she noted the strength of his hands on the reins, the tensed muscles in his thighs as he braced his feet against the front of the buggy, holding the mare to a rollicking trot through the main street of town. The general store on the left, the Golden Garter saloon on her right, the hotel and sheriff’s office all passed in a blur of windows and doors.
And then they were on the open road, a vista of trees ahead, a farm off to the right in the distance. The bells Will had attached to the horse’s harness jingled in time with her dainty steps, and Cassie’s heart rang with the delight of knowing she was beyond the days of being Cassie Phillips.
Only the specter of her past nudged at the edges of her mind, the memory of the scene she’d left behind the night her mother drew her last breath. Perhaps Will would not have married her had he known the truth about that night If she’d told him that Remus Chandler was dead, that her hand had held the knife, would he still have taken her with him? Or would she even now be sitting in a jail cell, or perhaps dead from a hangman’s noose? She shuddered at the thought.
“You all right, Cass?” Will’s arm went across her shoulders as he bent in her direction.
Her eyes fluttering open, she shook her head. “I’m fine. Just shivered a little.”
He dragged her closer, his hand dropping to her waist for leverage, till she was scooted tightly against his hip. “I’ll keep you warm, Mrs. Tolliver,” he told her with a grin. And then he sobered. “Feel better, honey, about getting married and everything?”
If she could tell him, if she could be honest with the man who’d given her his name, she wouldn’t feel so much as if she was skating on thin ice, she decided. But her smile was determinedly bright as she nodded her agreement.
And if she knew for sure that Will felt more for her than an appreciation of her body and a tender regard for her well-being, she’d be a whole lot happier.
It had been a shopping trip, in fact. The general store in Greenbush, though not stocked with the very latest from Paris, managed to have a reasonably good choice in nightclothes. Once he’d gotten past the flannel, beyond the practical cotton, into the realm of fine batiste and lawn, Will had begun to sweat The final choice was a filmy delight in pale blue, a color he felt would complement Cassie’s eyes, although he wasn’t sure she’d allow him to have a light burning by which to compare the two.
If Many Fingers or Clara raised an eyebrow at the lack of purchases when Will carried one small bundle from the buggy upon their return, it was not noticeable. Arriving too late for supper, Will and Cassie sat at the kitchen table beneath the kerosene lantern, eating leftovers.
Food was the very least of Will’s priorities tonight. Having taken care of the last of the chores, getting his new bride up the stairs and into his bed headed his list And from the look on Cassie’s face, she would be dragging her feet all the way.
Before they ate she wanted to go to the barn to see the new foal. Then, after checking out the filly, she had to look in on a mare who was pacing the area of her stall, contemplating the imminent birth of her youngster, if Many Fingers was to be believed.
Eating was a time-consuming chore, Cassie spending long minutes on devouring a chicken leg, then poking at her plateful of vegetables, which Clara had left on the back of the stove. The cornbread required butter and syrup, Cassie relishing each bite. Finally she drank down a glass of milk and, pushing her chair from the table, announced it was time to check on Maggie before bedtime.
Will left his seat and circled the table. His arms found their way around her waist, his hands clasping at her back. “Maggie’s probably sound asleep.” He bent low to whisper the words against her ear, and she shivered at the sensation. His grin was wide, and he nuzzled her neck, pleased at her response. A wedding night was something he’d not spent a lot of time considering in years gone by, but the past week had given him much food for thought.
He’d answered all of her excuses neatly, he thought. The final hurdle was getting past his mother, and she had conveniently sought out her rocker in the parlor, her hands busy with a shawl she was crocheting.
There wasn’t one good reason on God’s green earth why he couldn’t sashay his bride up the stairs and make his wedding night a reality.
That he would no doubt visit pain upon her small body was a fact he could not help but dread. Only the sure knowledge that he could also bring her a great deal of pleasure made him eager to hustle her up the stairs to his bedroom.
“Cassie? Are you frightened of me?”
She shook her head and her lashes fluttered open, her eyes wide as she opened her mouth to speak. “No…not really.”
His grin was immediate. “Now, that’s a statement of trust if I ever heard one,” he told her in a soft whisper.
“I’m not afraid,” she protested. “I just don’t know what you’ll want me to do.”
“You’ll figure it out as we go along,” he assured her with a grin. Then he sobered as he reached over the table to turn down the wick on the lamp.
The light dimmed and the kitchen became a shadowed and quiet place, Will moving to join her near the door. “Ready to go up, honey?”
She nodded her head and he caught the movement in the faint light that glowed from the parlor. She turned from him and paused at the double doors across the hall.
“Good night, Mrs. Tolliver,” she said through the doorway.
Clara looked up over the rims of her spectacles. “Going to bed already?” she asked, glancing at the mantel clock.
“It’s been a long day, Ma,” Will put in quickly. “I’ve got a man coming tomorrow with a new stallion for us to take a look at.”
Clara shrugged and slid her glasses back into place, looking down at her lapful of pink and magenta yarn. “I’ll see the both of you in the morning, then.”
With one hand at Cassie’s waist, he turned her to the stairs and guided her up to the second floor.
The bedroom had never looked so small, with the bed taking up so much room, Cassie thought with a sense of desperation. Will had spread something on the white coverlet and she eyed it with apprehension as she crossed the room. In the light of the candle Will lit and carried to the bedside table, it looked to be a gown, pale blue and edged with fine lace.
“Take a look at it, Cassie. I bought it for you.” She lifted it from the bed. “This is for me?” He nodded, waving at the screen in the corner. “Want to try it on? See how it fits?” He grinned as she hesitated. “Or if you want to, I’ll help you put it on right here.”
“No!” She shook her head, a violent motion, clutching the fragile fabric to her chest. She moved quickly to the screen and behind it, her breathing rapid, her cheeks flushed with a blend of excitement and embarrassment. Surely such a garment as this was more suitable to a boudoir than this farmhouse bedroom.
But if Will had paid good money for it, she’d at least try it on. She owed him that much. Her fingers busy with buttons and strings, she stripped from her clothing, then snatched at the gown, pulling it over her head quickly, as if she must don it before she could change her mind. She pulled it down, luxuriating in the soft caress of fine fabric, the whisper of cobweb-soft material falling into place. The hem brushed just above her knees and no amount of gentle tugging was going to make it any longer. Biting at her bottom lip, she peered around the corner of the screen. Will was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her, his eyes alight with what looked suspiciously like anticipation.
“Will?”
“Yeah, Cassie?” She could stand it should he smile his pleasure, but not if his grin was amusement at her expense.
“It’s awfully short, Will.”
He rose, taking three long strides in her direction, his eyes gleaming darkly in the candle glow. They traveled slowly over her form, and never had she felt so small and helpless. With a look of pure hunger he allowed his gaze to fasten on the expanse of bare flesh at her throat, then travel in minute increments down the front of her body.
She lifted a hand to the top of the washstand, her fingers pressing against the wood until her nails were white with the pressure. Her breath caught in her throat and she heard a soft whimper escape. Surely not from her? And yet it seemed that it had—that unbidden sound of fear, or perhaps anticipation, had been born in her throat and had escaped her trembling lips.
“It’s supposed to fit like that,” he told her.
She looked down at herself, at the taut, swelling shape of her breasts, the shadowed dip where her belly button hid from view and her long, bare legs beneath the abbreviated hem.
And then she glanced up again at Will, at the flushed line of his cheek, the flare of his nostrils and the clenching of his jaw. His eyes glowed with a light she could only describe to herself as avid, his whole being seemingly reined and held in check.
“Please wear it for me, Cassie.” It didn’t even sound like Will’s voice, this husky exhalation of breath that rang harshly in her ears, as if he’d used up all the tenderness he had to spare.
She nodded, caught in the spell he wove, his hands fisted by his sides, his body almost visibly pulsing in a vibrant wave of desire.
As if that small tilting of her head were the signal he had awaited, he moved. His hands rose to touch her and the fists became long, tapering fingers and broad palms, resting against her body with subtle strength as he lifted her into his arms. He swung her easily against his chest and she looked up into his face.
He was solemn, his lips parted in a feral expression, teeth together and jaw rigid, perhaps seized with the same emotion she had only begun to sense within her own body.
Lifting one hand to brush his unyielding jaw, she met his gaze. Then, pulling his head lower, she found herself caught up in the damp wonder of his kiss.
Chapter Ten
Will pulled the bedcovers back, leaving them rumpled, half on the floor. The pillows skidded helter-skelter across the bottom sheet, and he barely noticed the disarray as the mattress received the woman he held in his arms. So long as Cassie was within its depths, he didn’t give a hang for the condition of the bed or its bedding.
Will’s eyes devoured her, then focused on the wonder of her hair, primly wound at the back of her head, only a few strands escaping the pins. His fingers itched to remove the restraints, and he bent over her, one hand on either side of her.
“Are you going to undress, too?” she asked.
His grin came easily, easing the tension. “I reckon that’d make us even, wouldn’t it?” Straightening, he began the task of undoing his shirt, allowing it to fall over his trousers. “I need to wash up a little, honey.”
She watched him, her scrutiny only adding to his arousal, and he turned his back, stripping the clothing from his body. Standing before the washstand, he bathed quickly, not daring to frighten her with the burgeoning tumescence he could not hope to hide should he turn to face her.
The towel he dried with was the concealment he needed, and he held it in his hands, allowing it to drape across his belly and below as he returned to the bed.
Her cheeks were rosy, more flushed than before, the candlelight revealing a warmth in her perusal he had only hoped for. Within him, the yearning to see her without the covering of the flimsy gown she wore battled with his sensibilities.
Cassie’s innocence won and he leaned to blow out the candle, only then dropping the towel to the floor before he lowered himself to the mattress.
He rolled, lifting himself above her, his forearms receiving his weight as he framed her face with his palms. He bent, burying his face against her, inhaling the glorious scent that was so much a part of her, that faintly seductive fragrance he’d designated in his mind as being Cassie’s own.
It resembled the taste of her, that sweet yet spicy tang that met his tongue each time he dared to sample her mouth. His fingers spreading wide, he loosened the twisted coils of her hair, closing his eyes as he buried his hands in its shining length. Dark strands twined about his fingers, and as would corn silk, they clung to his skin. Like the finest spiderwebs, they floated on the air as he drew his fingers from their captivity.
One by one he plucked the pins from their hiding places within the dark strands. They fell from his fingers and he brushed the sheet, sending them to the floor.
Once more he bent to her, his lips against her throat, his hand sweeping the fall of hair back to bare the tender flesh to his caress. Opening his mouth, he tasted her, suckling just a bit, careful lest he mar the perfection of her skin. The temptation to leave his mark on her was almost beyond his ability to resist, and with reluctance he eased from her.
The moon was full, bathing her in its radiance streaming through the window. He watched as her eyes opened, her hand rising to touch the dampness he left behind, and then she spoke his name. It vibrated in his ears, the soft, subtle sound of her whispered call.
“Will?”
Easing his arms beneath her, he cradled her, his lips seeking hers, a small mating that did little to satisfy his primitive need for the greater merging that was to come. She met him with an eagerness he had not expected, opening to the touch of his teeth and tongue, allowing his ownership.
Moving on, from her brow to the tip of her chin, he plotted his course, ever aware of the delicate flesh he branded with mouth and tongue. Her lashes fluttered against his mouth and he bathed her eyelids with the tip of his tongue.
Cassie laughed, a soft, seductive sound, manna to his hungry soul, and then as he drew back, her eyes opened, a languid revealing of dark pools. She focused on him and smiled. “You didn’t kiss me this way before, Will.”
“We’re married now, Cass,” he told her, his voice low, rasping in his throat, as if the words strained to be spoken.
“I feel like my bones are all soft inside my skin,” she whispered, her tongue swiping once at her upper lip.
It was almost his undoing, that small pink bit of flesh he’d only begun to include in his love play. “Do that again,” he said.
She blinked at him, shaking her head. “Do what? What did I do, Will?”
“Better yet,” he told her with a smile, “brush your tongue against my mouth. I want to see how it feels.”
It felt wonderful, better than he’d dreamed, and with a groan of passion unleashed he turned to his side, drawing her with him, pulling her leg to rest atop his hip.
His palm flat against her back, he pressed her closer. The softness of her belly received his arousal and he stifled the urge to thrust against her. Cassie’s indrawn breath, a measure of her surprise, called for soothing, and soothe her he did, his hand moving in a circular motion between her shoulder blades, then shifting to brush gently against her hips.
She whimpered once, stiffening against him as his hand sought the rounding of her bottom, and he hushed her, whispering nonsense in her ear, his kisses soft and gentle until she relaxed once more beneath his touch.
It was bliss, undeniably a touch of heaven, and his very being sang with the joy she brought him, his hopeful heart finally sensing the beginning of her surrender.
Lifting himself on his elbow, he surveyed the gown she wore. Covering the curves of her breasts, it was a hindrance, and his fingers worked at the buttons. Unfastening his trousers with one hand had never been a problem, yet these small pearl fastenings resisted his attempts, and he shook his head at his own ineptness.
“Undo your gown, Cassie,” he whispered, then watched as she lifted her hands to do his bidding. He inhaled sharply, then, rolling her gently to her back, he hovered over her, resting on his forearms.
