“No... ” she tried to argue, but his forceful tongue found the break in her lips and thrust inside. She struggled against him, but he shoved her flat against the cold stone barn wall and clasped one breast to hold her in place. She pulled at his wrist, but it was as taut as new wire fence, and while panic gripped her, so did Rusty Bonner. Again and again and again, squeezing her breast while she whimpered against his driving tongue and a stone painfully pressed her skull.
“Stop... “she tried to say, but again his mouth stifled the plea. She twisted violently and managed to free her mouth. “Stop! What are you doing?”
He caught her elbows and pinned them hard against the wall and ground his hips against hers until she felt dirty and more scared than she’d ever been before. Wildly she struggled to break free, but he’d ridden down broncs and Brahmas — one skinny little schoolteacher was nothing for Rusty Bonner.
“You said you’d been kissed before. More than once.”
Mortified by what his hips were doing, she felt tears burn her eyes. “I lied... please, let me go.”
His wrists were hard and corded and could not be budged.
“Easy, honey... easy. There now, you’re gonna like this... ”
She choked back a sob as he filled his hands with her breasts, nearly lifting her off her feet.
Then Theodore’s quiet voice intruded. “Miss Brandonberg, is that you?”
The pressure on her breasts disappeared and her heels touched the ground.
Relief made her want to cry and take refuge against Theodore’s solid bulk. But shame made her wish she could disappear from the face of the earth.
“Y... yes, Theodore, it’s m... me.”
“What you doing out here?”
Rusty’s voice was thoroughly unruffled as he turned indolently and answered, “We’re just talkin’ about Texas bull ridin’. Any objection, Mr. Westgaard?”
Suddenly Theodore thrust himself forward, grabbed Linnea’s wrist, and yanked so hard she thought her shoulder would come unhinged. “You little fool! What’s the idea of coming out here with him like this? Don’t you care what people think?”
“Now whoa, just a minute, Westgaard,” the Texan drawled.
Theodore spun on Bonner, still gripping Linnea’s wrist. “She’s eighteen years old, Bonner! Why don’t you pick on somebody your own age?”
“She wasn’t objecting,” Bonner returned in that same easy tone.
“Oh, wasn’t she? That’s not how I heard it. And if she’s not, I am. You’re done here, Bonner. Pick up your pay in the morning and that’s the last I want to see of you.” Bonner shrugged and moved as if to pass Theodore and head back toward the dance. “And you’re not goin’ back in there. I don’t want anybody at that dance suspecting she was out here with you.” Theodore turned on his heel, yanked Linnea along after him, and ordered, “Come on.”
“Theodore, let me go!” She tried to squirm free, but his angry strides reverberated through her arm and made her head snap.
“I’ll let you go when you learn some common sense. For now, you’re coming with me. We’re going back up there and make them think you were outside talking to me. And if you do one thing to make them think otherwise, so help me, I’ll haul you into Oscar’s toolshed and blister your rear end, which your own father would do if he was here!”
“Theodore Westgaard, you let me go this very minute!” Outraged at being treated like a recalcitrant child, she tried to pry his thumb loose from her wrist, but it was useless. He stalked across the barn, then gave her a push that nearly put her nose against the third rung of the ladder.
“Now get up there, and act like you ain’t about to bust into tears!”
Angrily, she climbed the ladder, tripping on her skirts and cursing under her breath. All she’d done was exchanged one bully for another. By what right did Theodore Westgaard order her around?
Upstairs, he grabbed her elbow in a bruising grip, thrust her toward the dance floor, yanked her to face him, and started them waltzing without so much as a “May I?” She moved like a walking stick while he impressed a waxen smile on his face. Through gritted teeth he observed, “You’re moving like a scarecrow. Pretend you’re enjoying it.”
She loosened up, let her feet follow his, and faked a smile. “I can’t do this, Theodore, please let me go.”
“You’ll dance, little missy. Now get on with it.”
She had wanted to dance with him, but not this way. Her stomach was quaking. Her eyes glittered dangerously. She was choking with the need to cry. Theodore’s hand on her back was stiff with anger, the other clasping her fingers with suppressed fury. But their feet moved to the music, and her skirts flared out as he swirled her in circles, pretending that they were having a wonderful time.
She held up for as long as she could, but when the lump in her throat grew too large to contain, when the tears grew too plump to hide, she begged in a quavering voice, “Please, Theodore, please let me go. If you don’t, I’m going to cry and embarrass us both terribly. Please... ”
Without another word he turned her by an elbow and walked her directly to Nissa. “Linnea isn’t feeling well. I’m driving her home, but I’ll be back.”
In a moment she was at the foot of the ladder again, crossing the barn with Theodore at her heels. Breaking into a run, she headed for the door, and once outside, dropped her face into her hands as a wretched sob broke from her throat. Uncertainly Theodore stood behind her, still angry, but moved by her tears more than he wanted to be. He finally touched her shoulder, but she spun away, burying her face in an arm and leaning against the barn wall.
“Linnea, come, let’s get away from here.”
She was too miserable to realize he’d called her Linnea for the first time. He led her, still sobbing, toward a grove of cottonwoods where the wagons waited. She stood drooping, crying, while he fought the urge to hold and comfort her.
“He’ll be gone in the morning. There’s nothing to be scared of now.”
“Oh, Th... Theodore, I’m, s... so ash... shamed.”
He stuck his hands hard into his pockets. “You’re young. I don’t suppose you knew what he’d do.”
She lifted her face. He saw the silver tracks of tears on her cheeks and heard the plea in her voice. “I d... didn’t. Oh, Theodore, honest, I didn’t.”
A cinch seemed to tighten about his heart. He trembled everywhere and felt his anger dissipating.
“I believe you, little one. But you must be careful around strange men, didn’t your parents teach you that?”
“Y... yes.” She hung her head until her hair covered her face. “I’m s... sorry, Theodore. H... he said we’d j... just go outside and c... cool off, b... but th... then he k... kissed me and I... I only w... wanted to know wh... what it was 1... like.” A sob lifted her shoulders and she bobbed her head. “S... so I1... let him.” At the memory of what followed, she covered her face with both hands and leaned her forehead against Theodore’s chest.
His hands came out of his pockets and caught her shoulders. “Shh, little one. There’s nothing to cry about. So you’ve learned a lesson.”
Against his chest she spluttered, “B... but ev... everyone will know, and I’m th... the schoolt... teacher. I’m supposed t... to set a g... good example.”
“Nobody will know. Now stop crying.” His thumbs stroked her arms, but he stood erect, barrel-chested, trying to keep some distance between them. With each sob, her hands bumped his chest. A damp blotch formed on his shirt, then stuck to his skin, and his resolution weakened. He chuckled, but the sound was strained. “You know, I’m pretty out of practice at handling crying women.”
From beneath her trailing hair came a single choked laugh as she self-consciously tried to dry her cheeks. “My face is a mess. Have you got a hanky?”
He drew one from his back pocket and stuffed it into her hand, stepping back. When her face was cleaned he began to feel safer.
At last she looked up. In the dappled moonlight her eyes an
d lips appeared puffy, her hair in disarray. He thought of that bastard, Bonner, with his mouth and hands on her and felt the pagan urge to kill.
Without warning, she flung her arms about his neck and pressed her damp cheek to his. “Thank you, Theodore,” she whispered. “I was never so happy to see anybody in my life as when you showed up outside the barn.”
His eyes slammed shut. He stifled a groan and clasped her tightly to his breast. She clung tenaciously, pressing close, igniting his body. His hands found her back. Her skin smelled of almonds, and her soft, messed hair pressed against his jaw, her breasts against his throbbing heart.
Then he stiffened and gently pushed her away.
“Come, I’ll take you home.”
Obediently she withdrew but stared at the ground between their feet for a long time. At last she raised her head to gaze at him. The shadows couldn’t quite hide the grave question in her eyes even before she spoke it.
“Why didn’t you ask me to dance?”
He searched for an answer, but the truth was the last one he could give.
“You danced with everyone but me, and that’s why I went outside with Rusty. To make you jealous.”
“M... me?”
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
He swallowed. “We danced, didn’t we?”
“That wasn’t dancing, that was two people butting heads.” She waited, but he backed a step away. “All right then, why did you rescue me?” She advanced a step and he put his hands out to stop her.
“Linnea.” A warning.
“Why?”
“You know why, and it ain’t good for either one of us.”
“Why... tell me, Teddy, why?”
The name went through him like flash fire. “Linnea... ” He only meant to put his hands on her arms to stop her.
“Why... ” A whisper.
She was close enough that he could smell the almond on her skin again. She was insistent enough that he could feel the quivering in her arms beneath his hands. She was innocent enough that he knew, even as his hands tightened and drew her up, this was going to be one of the greatest mistakes he’d ever make.
“Because... ” He dropped his lips to her waiting mouth, and his heart was a wild thing in his breast. Her arms came up and their bodies meshed, close and warm and hard. She’s still a child. She doesn’t even know how to kiss. But her young breasts, crushed against him, her fingers on his neck, her sweet, closed, untutored lips were his for that moment. He let the feelings take him, and when common sense grew strong again, he finally found the strength to push her back.
Their breaths beat hard into the autumn night.
“It d... didn’t feel like that when Rusty Bonner kissed me.”
“Shh. Don’t.”
“Kiss me again, please, Teddy.”
“No!”
“But—”
“I said no! I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”
“Why?”
“Have you got a couple hours? I’ll give you the whole list.” He took her elbow and turned her toward the wagon. “Up with you, now,” he ordered briskly. But his voice rattled with emotion.
“Theodore—”
“No. Please, just get in the wagon.”
They hadn’t realized they’d left their coats behind until they were headed home through the frosty night. Linnea shuddered and hugged herself. Theodore silently rolled his shirtsleeves down and buttoned his cuffs.
“You want to go back and get your coat?”
“No, just get me home.”
And though it pained him to watch her huddle, shivering, when he could have put his arm around her and kept her warm and shielded from the world, he didn’t.
By all that was holy, he didn’t!
13
IN THE MORNING, Nissa stayed in bed later than usual, and Theodore was headed upstairs to awaken Kristian just as Linnea was headed down for water. They both halted at once. He looked up and felt his heart race. She looked down and felt the same. In that instant they relived the impact of the single kiss they’d shared the night before, and neither could think of a thing to say. For long moments they only stared.
Her toes were bare and she held her wrapper together at the throat. She’s just climbed out from under the quilts, he realized, and his heart tripped faster at the thought.
He wore his heavy wool jacket, his nose was pink, and he hadn’t shaved yet. He’s already been out to do chores, she thought, and the sight of him, all rugged and masculine, made her toes curl over the edge of the step.
Suddenly they both realized they were standing in a narrow stairwell gawking at each other as if they’d been turned to pillars of salt. Linnea was the first to recover her voice.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
“Good morning,” he whispered back.
“You’ve been out already.”
“I did the chores alone and let Kristian sleep.”
“Oh.”
This was silly. Couldn’t they pass each other on the stairs without getting all fidgety?
“How are you this morning?” he asked.
“Tired. I didn’t sleep much last night. How are you?”
“A little slow on the draw.” He wondered what had kept her awake. Had she, like he, lain for hours thinking of that kiss? “We got home late. Looks like Ma and Kristian are in the same shape. But I better wake them or we’ll be late for church.”
Their hearts pounded harder as he moved up the stairs and she moved down. But when they finally passed each other, they made sure not so much as a thread of their clothing touched. As she reached the bottom step, he called down softly, “Linnea?”
She spun and looked up. She thought she would never grow tired of hearing him use her Christian name in that tone of voice. He stood with one hand on the knob of Kristian’s door. She imagined what it would be like if he ever came to her door that way, and quietly spoke her name as he had a moment ago.
“Yes?”
“Bonner is gone.”
But Bonner already seemed a hazy memory to Linnea, eclipsed by the imposing man above her. She could have stood all day, looking at him. But he turned away, opened Kristian’s door, and disappeared.
Inside Kristian’s room Theodore paused, staring at his boots. He remembered Linnea in her bare toes and wrapper, looking warm and tumbled and morning-mussed. It had taken fortitude to pass her on the stairs and not touch her. He sighed heavily. So damn young. Last night, when he’d hauled her out of Bonner’s arms, he’d told himself he was acting in her father’s stead, but it wasn’t strictly true. All that anger hadn’t been spawned by paternal protectiveness alone.
Aw, hell, Westgaard, you’re just a middle-aged buck who feels like he’s sipping from the fountain of youth whenever she’s around. Are you forgetting you’re a good five years older than Rusty Bonner, and you warned Bonner to pick on somebody his own age!
Theodore sighed and glanced at the bed. Kristian lay sleeping peacefully. His arms were thrown back and the quilt left part of his chest exposed. There was a fairly good crop of hair on it already. Now when had that happened? Next month he’d be seventeen. Seventeen already, and — Theodore had to admit — Kristian’s seventeen to Linnea’s eighteen was far less shocking than the sixteen years separating her from himself.
He recalled Kristian’s uncharacteristic frankness in admitting he had feelings for the girl, and Theodore experienced a queer compulsion to sit on the edge of his son’s bed and confess that he’d kissed her last night and ask the boy’s forgiveness. Guilt. She’d only been here a month and she already had him feeling guilty. That was silly. Or was it? Kristian had marked her first, and had trusted Theodore enough to confide his feelings. Theodore considered the possible eventualities should his son ever find out what went on last night. Lord, suppose it got out and people started wondering what was going on over here with both father and son hankering after the same girl? Wouldn’t they blow that all out of proportion?
You
start anything with her, Westgaard, and you’ll have one fine mix-up on your hands. She’s too young for you and you know it, so leave her to your son and act your age.
The following night, who should show up at the door but Bill Westgaard, all spit-shined and brilliantined. The men were in from the fields and supper dishes were already put away when the knock sounded and Kristian went to answer it. When Bill stepped into the kitchen it was assumed this was nothing more than a family visit. They all sat around the table and Nissa brought out coffee cups and date cake and asked after Ulmer and Helen and the rest of the family. Bill politely gave an update and dutifully partook of the snack.
They talked about the war, President Wilson’s military draft law, and how the American people were arguing about it everywhere Few thought the nation’s strength could be brought to bear on the battlefields of France in time to stave off an Allied disaster, and Theodore agreed. Bill, however, argued that with the German armies already having driven Russia to the brink of collapse and the invading German and Austrian forces now inflicting smashing defeats on the Italians at Caporetto, we had to get behind Wilson’s effort one hundred percent.
Linnea’s eyes opened wide at the men’s understanding of the happenings overseas. Even Kristian joined in the discussion, showing a vital interest in the subject of airplanes and the battles being fought in the air.
When the subject had run its course, they moved on to talk of winter trap lines, a fox that had been killing chickens in the area, and the possibilities of early snow.
They’d exhausted a variety of impersonal subjects when Bill announced, “I brought the rig. I thought you might like to go for a ride with me, Linnea.”
An awkward silence fell. Linnea’s eyes sought Theodore’s. For an instant she saw startled disapproval, then he consciously wiped it away. What should she say?
“A ride. Oh... well... ”