If he could hold out for only one more day, he could leave the schoolteacher just as he’d found her, intact. But he also knew that if the situation presented itself, he would not be so noble again; he would take her with all the tenderness and vigor he possessed.
Chapter 8
As Cara drifted off to sleep, her final thoughts were of Chase. When she awakened Saturday morning, her mind picked up the same thread. Who would have thought she’d fall in love with a Union soldier? She corrected herself: He’d ceased being defined so simply for quite some time now. It was as if he’d been sent to counter the tragedy and death of her grandfather. In her nightmares the demons wore Union uniforms. In this new reality a flesh and blood man was in that uniform. And he was a fine man who had his own demons from the past; a man who’d taught her passion; more importantly, a man who cared.
And she cared for him in return. She knew a good portion of his interest in her lay in the physical realm, and last night had been a vivid demonstration. But tomorrow morning he’d ride out of her life, never knowing he’d be carrying a piece of her heart.
Cara got up. She had cleaning to do at the school. She hoped the chores would give her something else to think about.
They didn’t.
She thought about Chase with every swipe of her mop and every rub of polish on the desks. She thought about him as she washed the windows and as she cleaned out the storm cellar and recloseted the supplies. To keep from going back to Sophie’s and possibly running into him, she inventoried the school’s supplies, made lists of items she needed to order and those she’d have to beg for in letters to the aid societies back East. Lesson plans came next, six weeks’ worth.
As the afternoon waned, she spent the early evening hours catching up on her correspondence and penning a letter to her friend William Boyd. When night fell, she could find nothing else to detain her. Her stomach was also reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she doused the lanterns and left the school.
Back at the boardinghouse, she got a plate of food from Dulcie and took it up to her room. Cara thought the ideal situation would be to avoid Chase until he left. By doing so, she hoped to lessen her heartbreak.
After her meal she sought out Sophie for permission to use the big claw-footed tub in the rooms Sophie shared with Asa. Cara usually took her baths in her own room, but every now and then she needed the luxury Sophie’s big tub provided, and tonight was one of those times. Sophie was more than agreeable, telling Cara to help herself, so she did.
When Cara returned to her room after the bath she felt like a new woman. The warm water and the aromatic salts she’d added to it had eased a lot of her inner tension. She read for a little while, then crawled into bed. She tried not to think about Chase, but she lost the battle, just as she had all day.
And now to make things worse, she heard the door close next door and then sounds of him moving around. The more she attempted to shield her mind, the stronger his presence seemed to intrude. Why him? she asked herself again for the hundredth time. Why this man when there were so many thousands of others in the world? She pounded her pillow and turned over on her side. No amount of shifting positions freed her from the memories of his kiss, the delicious curve of his smile, or the vibrant, yearning notes of the siyotanka.
When the sounds of sloshing water came through the wall, Cara tried to close her ears with little success. He was bathing; smoking, too, she realized as the first tantalizing whiffs of tobacco began to slide into the room from under the door. The scents played gently with her nose and havoc with her senses. Cara let her imagination soar over how he must look naked in the tub: the sculpted muscles of his arms and chest, the firm hardness of mahogany-colored thighs. She wondered how it would be to have him sharing her tub. She could almost feel his hands sliding the soap across her skin, the way her breasts would tighten . . . She shook off the fantasy and hastily brought her thoughts back to saner realms.
Through the door came the sound of his singing. His voice was passable. The song, one she did not recognize, praised the qualities of some unknown Spanish beauty named Maria. He sung with a lusty boisterousness that made her think he sang it on the trail. Well, this wasn’t the trail and it was late. She wanted to sleep.
When the sloshing finally subsided, the singing didn’t, so Cara grabbed her robe and went to his door. She knocked hard to be heard over the refrain.
The song stopped. A second later she heard him undoing the bolt and waited for him to open the door.
Chase wore only a pair of pants. One of Sophie’s big towels lay draped over a magnificent dark shoulder, and his hair was still wet. The beauty of him blinded her.
“Let me get my shirt.” He chuckled. “I’m liable to melt with you looking at me like that.”
His remark shocked her into the realization that she was staring. He crossed back into the room, slipped on a shirt, but left it unbuttoned.
“Now,” he said, looking down at her with eyes that made her remember last night, “what can I do for you?”
“The caterwauling. I’m trying to sleep.”
“I’ve been told I have a pretty fair voice.”
“Was this person living or dead?”
“Oh, Miss Henson, you wound me to the quick,” he cried, placing a hand over his heart.
Cara could not hide her smile.
“I like making you smile.”
Cara went all strange inside. “Your singing was . . . disturbing me. I have to go now.”
“Wait. If I kept you awake, please accept my apology.”
“Accepted.”
“Was there anything else?” he asked, unwilling to let her go.
For a moment, Cara could not say. There were so many things she wanted to ask, so many things going on inside herself that she could not define, never mind find the words to express. How did one tell a man who’d blazed a comet’s trail across the staidness of her life that she wanted his love? That she wanted whatever the night would bring so she could look back and say she’d loved once and loved well? When she looked into his face again, she saw serious concern reflected there. “No,” she answered softly. “Nothing else.”
With a gentle finger he lifted her chin so he could better see the truth that might shine in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not,” she replied with a touch of irritation. “What is wrong with me?”
He answered quietly, “Nothing. Come here.” Taking her by the hand, he pulled her into the room. “You and I should talk.”
Still holding her hand, he led her past the tub and over to a chair beside the bed. He motioned her to take the chair while he sat on the big four-poster bed. “Now, first of all, there’s nothing wrong with you. What you’re feeling is desire, that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“And is there a cure?”
“Sometimes . . .”
Cara found the courage to look directly into his eyes, instantly regretting it when the heat they harbored singed her.
“You’re a very passionate woman, Cara Lee. When you find a man worthy of you, don’t be afraid to show him that side of yourself.”
Why was he telling her this? His lips were the ones that had set her afire. “I don’t think there’ll be other men.”
“Why not?”
It made Care a bit uncomfortable speaking of this, especially with him, but she’d faced the future long ago. “No man will want me for a wife. Men out here need a woman young enough to bear children and strong enough to help them carve out a home. They see a schoolteacher as neither. When I first came to the Valley, some of the men who courted me said they couldn’t see me behind a plow, even though I’ve been behind a plow many times in my life.”
Truth be known, Chase couldn’t see her behind a plow, either, although he didn’t doubt her ability to handle one. He could readily imagine her in his bed, however. More than likely, the others had, too. “You’re too hard on yourself,
” he said.
Cara answered wistfully, “Truth is hard.”
He picked up her hand and tugged gently. “Come here.” When she settled on the bed, he said seriously, “Yes, some truths are hard, but this is a truth you’ve erected, schoolmarm. It isn’t reality. If you could see yourself as I do, or as any man with half a brain does, you’d know how wrong you are. You’re a very beautiful woman. You’re passionate, caring, smart. Some men probably find you a bit intimidating and a lot opinionated, but that’s part of your charm.”
Her eyes narrowed at that last comment, and he grinned and brought her fingers to his lips. “When the right man comes along, you’ll know.”
That’s the problem, Cara thought. “Suppose he doesn’t?” she asked, freeing her hand from his. “Do I spend the rest of my life wondering what it feels like to know a man’s love?”
Chase had no ready response. “Only you can answer that.”
Cara looked away. She knew he was right, and she came to a decision. She refused to spend the rest of her life wondering what might have been. “Will you make love to me?”
For a moment, Chase did not reply, and she steeled herself for rejection. Finally, he reached over and raised her chin. “Cara Lee, I have spent ten long days doing my best to keep my hands off you. Don’t tease with me now, darlin’.”
“I’m not teasing, Chase,”
And she wasn’t, Chase realized. Her eyes were as serious as he’d ever seen them. “You sure about this? I promised myself after the ride home last night that I would not turn you down again if you asked.”
“I’m sure.”
He searched her face again. Seemingly satisfied, he spoke. “Then let’s close the door.”
When that was done, Cara waited as he walked around turning down the lamps. He left only the small lamp beside the bed lit. The full light had fed her confidence, but the flickering shadows, coupled with his tall, assessing presence, brought on trembles of uncertainty. She looked up as he came and stood before her. He held out a hand. She took it and rose to her feet. He ran a worshipping finger over the delicate curve of her cheekbone, then in a velvet voice asked, “What are you thinking?”
“How very scared I am . . .”
Her guileless reply lifted his mustached lips into a smile. “Don’t be,” he whispered. “The first time should always be special, and it will be. I promise.”
He lowered his head and kissed her with such welcoming tenderness, Cara’s soul cried out from the beauty of it. Her arms wound around him, and in turn he gathered her in closer, letting her experience for the first time the full blaze of his passion. They fed on each other with mating tongues and roving hands, knowing they had only that night.
She felt the warmth of his fingers grazing her back above her nightgown as he moved her thick braid aside, then came the gentle brush of his lips across the tender skin of her neck. The slender bones felt as if they were melting beneath the sensual assault.
When he eased down the thin shoulder straps of her gown just enough to tease the fiery tip of his tongue against the silken nook of her collarbone, Cara sighed in vibrant response. His big hands roamed lazily up and down her bare arms, gliding over the tense muscles with a penetrating magic all their own until her fears fell away like rain. Every thrilling touch of his lips, and every flute-inspiring pass of his hands, branded her soul. In that instant, she knew that for as long as she lived, there would never be another man able to purge Chase Jefferson from her blood. Never.
Chase had to caution himself. Having her to enjoy at his leisure built a fire in his blood he found hard to control. His lips teased her ear, her throat. His sure hands slipped down to the fullness of her breasts, rolling the nipples through the thin gown until they gave up their own sweet song. If he didn’t slow down, this whole thing would be over in a few quick thrusts right here. But even as the thought surfaced, he slid one bold hand into her still laced-up bodice and filled his palm with the warm nippled treasure within. Behind her, the other hand seductively circled the gown over the rounded curve of her hips.
Cara’s head dropped back under the heat of his lips on her breasts, then her whole world spun from the feel of his hands slowly undoing the laces between them. She trembled as he slid the ribbons from their stitch-worked holes.
He tugged the last length free. Her bodice opened with a flutter, and he moved the unjoined halves aside, palms brushing her hardness. He lowered his head and placed an achingly slow lick against one ripe crest, then the other. Cara pleaded soundlessly for mercy as he began to love her with his masterful mouth. He sucked her like a piece of rock candy, the sensations hitting her like strikes of lightning. She could barely stand. When her breasts were damp, he left them for a moment to nibble on the lush fullness of her bottom lip, then to brush his hand longingly against the apex of her thighs.
Her legs parted in shuddering response. His first precious strokes against her woman’s heat made her close her eyes. Chase reveled in the gifting of pleasure. Her response, so pure and flowing, emboldened his need to seek and lay claim to all she would willingly offer. “Take this gown off.”
His eyes glittered. Cara’s own breathing roared in her ears. “Is . . . that necessary?”
Chase smiled at her reticence, then bent to once more pleasure a bared, sable-tipped nipple. He lingered until moans slipped from her lips, then ran an adoring finger over the succulent golden undercurve. “Who’s the teacher here, schoolmarm?” His teeth played expertly. Desire surged. Her hand moved to his head and felt the soft, black lamblike curls at the back of his neck as he transferred his kisses to the twin.
“I’ll take off the gown, but you’ll have to turn around.”
Chase smiled. “Cara, that doesn’t make sense. Besides, a man likes to see his woman undress.”
He’d never referred to her as “his woman” before. The claiming set her pulses to throbbing. But she was still hesitant. “I can’t just . . . It isn’t—”
“Isn’t what?”
“Proper.”
Her shyness invoked his tender humor. “Darlin’, nothing I plan on doing to you tonight is proper.”
The lusty heat in his tone touched her like a brush of his hands. In the end though, it was he who surrendered.
With his back to her, Cara removed the thin nightdress. She could not part with it fully, and when he faced her once again, she was holding it against her body like a delicate shield.
“Oh, schoolmarm,” he chided with a humorous sigh.
She looked so fetching. Just enough of the coppery body was left visible to tantalize. His gaze swept up the sides of her rounded hip to the barely concealed breasts, and his desire pounded to a familiar beat.
“Are you going to put out that last light?” she asked, needing the darkness to bolster her courage.
“Nope.” He discarded his shirt and the light played over the rippling dark beauty of his arms and broad chest. He kissed her, then whispered, “Visual memories are the best.” He nibbled at the sultry petal of her bottom lip. He pulled her back into the claiming circle of his bare arms, paying no attention to the gown she continued to clutch, letting her keep it until she became more comfortable with her nudity.
Cara had had no idea that being naked with a man could be so staggering, so exciting. His warm palms, although callused by the ruggedness of trail life, wandered over her skin like silk. They mapped the thin structure of her neck and the rounded measure of her shoulders before descending down her back to the firm bare flare of her hips. The languid wildfire in his touch spread to the blossom already stroked to full bloom between her legs, and she gave herself up to its tingling heat.
Chase realized he hadn’t even come close to imagining how good she would feel half-naked in his arms, her head thrown back under his impassioned sucking. The reality of her hard little nipples, and the stain texture of her hips filling his cupping, exploring hands, made him harder than any dream.
Cara was barely aware of his lifting her to the bed,
but very aware that his lips never left hers. The mattress gave under their combined weight, then supported them as Chase pulled her in against him.
His bare upper body was hard and warm. Even though he still wore his trousers, Cara could feel every breathing inch of him, especially that hard promise that was a virgin’s forbidden fruit. She basked in the feeling of being naked against him as his caresses roamed freely. The gown lay between them twisted and forgotten until his exploring hand discovered it down by her knees. When he began to move it over her shimmering skin, Cara stretched and moaned. Slow, circling invitations transformed the practical garment into a provocative instrument of seduction. He rubbed it over the flat plane of her belly and the sleek structure of her hip, followed by lazy erotic tracings up to her bursting nipples, then down to the blackberry curls at the apex of her thighs. As he purposefully brought it up against the heat sheltered there, Cara gasped. He lingered, dallied, tempting her to open to him. Under his hand the gown stroked that aching, straining part of herself, coercing her legs to spread wide, then wider still.
Chase kissed her mouth in reward for her exquisite offering and, despite the urgent hardness roaring to be released from the crotch of his trousers, took his time with her pleasuring. For a man who’d always taken his lovemaking lightly, he was very serious this night. He wanted her ready, as ready as a man would want his virgin wife on their wedding night, ready to receive him and the mysteries of pleasure—all without pain and without fear. This beautiful woman was offering the most precious thing a woman could offer a man. In return, he could give no less.
So he continued to stroke her with feathery, circling promises; promises so wistfully piercing, Cara could not help but cry out. Chase, eyes glowing, watched her body arch to the scandalous manipulations of the cloth, and then, as he moved the garment aside, to the warm surprise of his bare hand.