Indigo

  She cut a look up to his sparkling eyes and asked with mock offense, "Are you mocking my height, sir?"

  "One cannot mock what isn't there, petite."

  His habit of addressing her by that diminutive always made her head spin and she'd yet to find a way to counteract the effects. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came in to pick up some sugar Maxi ordered. And you?"

  "I had some time on my hands until I meet Gail Grayson, so I thought I'd look at dress material."

  He reached past her and picked up the bolt of silk. "I noticed you admiring this silk."

  "Yes, it's quite beautiful."

  "Are you going to purchase it?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Look at the price."

  He paused to read the amount written on the card above the bolt's space. "And?"

  She chuckled, "Maybe for you the price means nothing, but to me it is quite steep."

  "I'll purchase it for you."

  Hester could see the clerk behind the counter observing them. Hester smiled over at her and the woman smiled in return. Hester turned back to Galen and whispered warningly, "No, you will not."

  "Why not? Consider it my way of saying thanks for taking such good care of me back in October."

  "You've already given me enough gifts."

  "Then let me buy you some gowns. Shall we go shopping?"

  "No!"

  "Then let me treat you to luncheon."

  "Galen?!"

  He enjoyed her attempts to keep him at arm's length. It made the kisses he received from her all the more thrilling. "Either luncheon, or I kiss you right here and now. You don't want to be responsible for making that poor woman fall off her stool do you?"

  She couldn't keep her smile from her face. "You are outrageous, incorrigible, and—"

  "And the man who taught you how to make mud pies, don't forget to mention that."

  She surrendered just as they both knew she would. "All right, where are we going?"

  "This way, please."

  They had luncheon at a small establishment not too far from the store.

  Afterward, he suggested, "Come and take a drive with me."

  "Galen, I must meet Abigail in an hour."

  "I'll have you back on time. Don't fret."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  She agreed.

  It was the first time they'd been alone in the coach together and Hester felt very reckless when he got in and sat on the velvet seat across from her. His presence was a constant reminder of her growing attraction, an attraction becoming harder and harder to ignore.

  Once the coach got underway, she asked, "Did you come to Detroit just for Maxi's sugar?"

  "That and business. I had to look over a manifest from one of my ships before it sailed this morning."

  "How many boats do you own?"

  "Last count about fifteen."

  "And what area of business are you in?"

  "Imports, exports, lumber. My ships travel all over the world."

  "It sounds very exciting."

  Although the conversation revolved around a fairly mundane subject, Hester could sense the temperature rising in the coach. He'd been on his best behavior throughout the day, but looking over at him now, she felt certain it wouldn't last much longer.

  He asked, "What are you thinking?"

  "That you've been a perfect gentleman."

  "I'll take that as a compliment, but I must admit, my present thoughts are less than pure."

  When he held out his hand to her and said, "Come, I can't kiss you if you're way over here..." Hester's heart began to pound.

  The temperature rose as she took her seat beside him. He looked into her eyes. "All day I've had this craving for vanilla ..."

  Hester drew in a ragged breath. They were so close she could feel the warmth of his body shimmering around her like heat on an August day. When he drew his finger very slowly over the outline of her bottom lip, her eyes closed from the flaring intensity.

  He leaned down and gave her a soft, sweet kiss, then eased back. "Your kisses are like wine, Indigo. If I have too much, I'll forget my promise to have you back on time..."

  He kissed her again, more passionately, and she savored him with equal measure.

  "I mustn't be late..." she managed to whisper, but all other thoughts concerning time and place were lost in the burgeoning heat.

  Gifting her lips with short, magnificent kisses, Galen eased her atop his lap and drew her closer. He could feel the heat of her thighs and hips burning through the expensive gray wool of his trousers, and his manhood rose in sensual response. He kissed her lips, her jaw, the shell of her ears while his hands moved possessively over her spine. He fought to remember that they only had a short while. The lavish, prolonged loving she so richly deserved would have to wait, but he was content; there would be other times and other stolen moments.

  The practical Hester had been left behind the moment she stumbled into him in the store; atop his lap now, melting under his knowing hands, sat the woman who refused to be buried any longer. She thrilled to the kiss of his lips against her throat and the slide of his golden hands over her thighs. This Hester wanted to be touched everywhere and to touch him in return. She let his passion fire her own. His arms and shoulders were strong and firm beneath her slowly wandering hands. When he began to undo the buttons on her high-necked collar, she didn't protest. But when more buttons were undone and his lips began to brush fleetingly over the exposed skin of her throat, she dropped her head back against the strong pillar of his supporting arm and moaned.

  Heat filled her and made her tremble. He slid a worshipping finger over the twin crowns of her breasts, then placed his lips against both silken tops. Her nipples were already pleading, anticipating his bold caresses and he didn't make her wait. He eased down her plain, muslin camisole, then slowly pleasured each dark bud. A moan rose from her throat. Her body arched in response. His hands roaming languidly beneath her hips and thighs were hot as fire.

  Galen took his time. The taste of her fueled an arousal that demanded he have all she had to offer. Her breasts were so ripe, so lush, it would take an army to make him relinquish the dark sweetness. The smell of the vanilla scenting her warm skin filled his nostrils and befuddled his senses like fine cognac. To hell with time constraints; she was too lovely to turn loose.

  But he knew he had to take her back and the person with most experience, he had to be the one to stop.

  He raised his mouth to her lips and said reluctantly, "You're going to miss your coach, ma coeur..."

  She slipped the tip of her tongue over the edge of his parted lips and whispered, "I don't care..."

  He chuckled softly. Kissing her again, he replied, "You will when you have to walk the thirty miles home."

  She brushed her lips over his ear. "You'd take me home."

  "I'd take you, but it might not be home..."

  The provocative word play set her spinning. "You're very tempting...and too damn handsome for your own good, Galen Vachon."

  "And you are too beautiful and lush for yours, Hester Wyatt ..."

  He ran a slow finger over her kiss-dampened nipples and her eyelids slowly lowered. "Marry me and we can make beautiful children."

  She wanted to giggle but the heat rising from his expert touch overrode all.

  He leaned down and gave both nipples a gentle bite. "You're never going to get out of this coach, if you don't close your dress..."

  The intensity of his play increased and she groaned her pleasure. "You must stop, Galen..."

  "I know..."

  But he didn't, and for Hester time stood still as his hands slid beneath her dress.

  She arched to the heat of his cupping hands. He kissed her mouth. "This is so you'll dream of us tonight..."

  It took him only a few moments to bring her to a peak, and when he did she muffled her shuddering scream into the comforting solidness of his shoulder.

&nbs
p; In the silence that followed, Hester opened her eyes and looked up into his amused gaze. He asked, "Now, are you ready?"

  She replied softly, saucily, "I am, but for what, is the question?"

  He grinned. "Temptress. Let's put you back together, otherwise you will be late."

  Hester let him right her clothing, but the kisses continued.

  When she was all done up and respectably clothed once more, Galen instructed the coachman to turn around and head back downtown. A few blocks away from the rendezvous point with Gail, the coach drew to a halt. Inside, Hester and Galen shared a short but passionate kiss of goodbye, then she left him to meet Gail.

  When Gail asked Hester about her lack of packages, Hester waved her away saying she'd found nothing to buy.

  That evening, alone in her room, Hester sighed with the memories of the afternoon. She realized by succumbing to his kisses she was only opening herself to the heartbreak sure to come. Galen made her body sing like a bird and made her forget all about who she was and who he was. But here in the quiet of her room, she had to face reality. There was no future in a relationship with him and she had no desire to fall in love with him. It was too late to remedy the latter because she knew deep in her heart that she did love him. Her fears of the emotion made her remember her father. She didn't want to be at the mercy of love. She didn't want to be so tied up in love's knots that she'd do something irrational. Her feelings for Galen were as elating as they were terrifying.

  As the weather warmed and the first week of May breezed in, everyone received an invitation to Galen's first party. He was giving it to formally introduce himself to the community and to honor the recent nuptials of Foster and Jenine. At church that Sunday, the party was all folks could talk about. Word had gotten around that the wealthy Mr. Vachon had no wife. Every mama with an eligible daughter, every widow, and every other unattached female over the age of sixteen threw their bonnets into the ring. Hester kept her bonnet on.

  Abigail was very curious about the invitation, written in ornate gold script, which was sent with a runner Galen had hired. "What on earth is Galen Vachon doing here in Whittaker of all places?"

  Hester looked up from her sewing and asked, "Do you know Mr. Vachon?"

  "I met him about a decade ago or so by way of his aunt Racine."

  Hester spent a few moments telling Gail about Vachon's recent arrival in town and that he'd purchased some of her land, then asked, "Is he as wealthy as everyone is speculating?"

  "Wealthier. His shipping interests reach all the way to the Orient. He could live anywhere in the world. Why would he choose to settle here?"

  Hester forced herself to push the needle in and out with a steady rhythm so as not to alert Gail to her own secret knowledge of the mysterious Mr. Vachon. She held up the cloth to view the evenness of the stitching. The cloth would be an altar linen when finished. "The women here are in a tizzy over him. I heard a few talking as though he were already gutted and trussed."

  Gail laughed. "If the predatory beauties of Europe and New Orleans haven't managed to land him, I doubt anyone in Whittaker will."

  Hester realized that Gail had inadvertently echoed Hester's own fears. "He's quite the ladies' man then?"

  "Quite. For many years Racine despaired over his becoming anything other than that. In his younger days, he was a rake in every sense of the word."

  "Then you know his aunt well?"

  "Yes, she and I were in the same circle at one time."

  "She works on the Road?"

  "She did in those days. Her family has been free for nearly a century but she's a staunch abolitionist. Racine used to say she was a product of many races, but it was her African blood which gave her life and it is the African blood which keeps her strong."

  "She sounds like a very interesting woman."

  "That she is."

  The party was only three days away. Hester went over to Kate Bell's boarding house to drop off some new antislavery tracts she'd received in the post but could hardly get inside for all the women waiting for Kate to do their hair. Kate was not only the best seamstress in the area but also the woman everyone paid to do their hair on very special occasions. And Galen's party qualified as the most special occasion in Whittaker's recent history. Hester declined Kate's offer of service on her own hair because Hester did not plan to attend.

  Foster stopped by that evening and Hester was glad to see him. Although she'd been sent reeling by his sudden marriage, she found she could not deny him her friendship.

  "What brings you here, Foster? Where's Jenine?"

  He looked uncomfortable. "Uh—she's over at the room."

  Hester peered into his face. "Is something wrong?"

  He shook his head in denial. "No. I just stopped by to make certain you are coming to the party. It is good of Vachon to fete us this way."

  "Yes, it is nice, but no, I wasn't planning on attending."

  "Why not?"

  "Because this is for you and Jenine."

  "But I would like for you to attend. Jenine knows so few people and she's so shy. She considers you a friend. I realize I've caused you a bit of embarrassment leaving you high and dry the way I did, but if you could see past it and help Jenine fit in, I'd be grateful."

  Hester wanted to tell him no. Her dilemma with Galen took precedence over any problems Jenine may be experiencing in adjusting to life in Whittaker. Jenine was one of the reasons Hester had decided to stay at home in the first place. Hester had so far avoided hearing whatever the gossips were saying about Foster returning with a bride, and she had no desire to spend the evening being the subject of whispers or pitying stares. That she was also avoiding Galen sealed the decision.

  "Foster, I'm certain everyone will love Jenine just as much as you. She shouldn't have any problems winning them over.”

  "I want so much for her to settle in and be liked. If Vachon builds the school, she and I are going to be prominent members of the community. I can't have her hiding away every time someone approaches her."

  "Is she truly that shy?"

  "She's so shy she won't even let me—" He stopped.

  Hester waited in the silence for him to continue, but when he did not, she ran her gaze over his seemingly frustrated manner. "Foster?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing."

  Hester had the impression that he was hiding something, but she didn't press.

  He asked her again to attend.

  She replied, "You don't need me there, but I will think about it."

  He took her hands and held them lightly in his own. "That is all I ask. Thank you, Hester."

  Hester saw him out then watched him drive his old buggy down the road.

  Chapter 12

  The only time Hester would admit wanting to see Galen again was at night when she lay in her bed alone. In the light of day, the wanting made little sense; Galen was turning her world on its head, she had no idea of his true identity, and he was far too wealthy for his own good.

  But at night, when darkness protected her secrets, she confessed. Being with Galen opened her emotions to new and volatile sensations, sensations her virgin body craved to explore even while the no-nonsense Hester inside shook her head in serious disappointment. She wanted to see him again, if for no other reason than the way he made her feel. He treated her as if she were precious, touched her as if she were treasured. She'd never been called beautiful until Galen entered her life, and indeed his kiss and his touch made her feel so. The memories of the night at the Folly were still as sensually vivid as the afternoon in the carriage. Alone in the dark, she wished Galen were there to ease the flames he'd left simmering inside, wished he were there to bestow his magical touch on her throbbing nipples and the damp, pulsing places that shocked her to think about. Both interludes had been a revelation. Who knew passion could wrack a woman's body with such blinding force? He'd made her body ache in places she'd never known could ache, but she'd loved every bold stroke of his golden hands and she wanted mor
e.

  The day before the party, Hester came to a decision. In spite of Foster's plea, she would not attend. When Abigail enquired as to her reason, Hester gave the excuse that she didn't feel well and blamed it on an oncoming bout of the spring sniffles. Gail offered to skip the event and keep Hester company, but Hester insisted that there was no need for Gail to miss the good time.

  Bea stopped by later that afternoon to fetch Gail. They both had appointments with Kate to have their hair done.

  On the heels of their departure, a knock sounded on the door. Hester opened it to find Andre Renaud. He held a large box wrapped in gold paper in his hands. Atop the box sat a beautiful gold lace bow.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Renaud."

  He cleared his throat. "Um, Miss Wyatt—"

  His uncomfortable face told all.

  "More gifts from your employer?" Hester asked.

  "I'm afraid so."

  Hester stepped back so he could enter. "What is it this time?"

  "I don't know."

  She shook her head and took the box from his hands.

  He headed back to the door, explaining, "I'm supposed to leave before you open it."

  "I'll wager it is because he doesn't want me to make you return whatever is in here."

  Renaud swallowed. "I believe so."

  Hester chuckled and thought to herself, Galen, Galen, Galen. Whatever am I going to do with you? She looked over at Andre's distressed face and said, "Thank you, Mr. Renaud. If it has to be returned, I will beard the dragon personally. You may tell him you accomplished your mission."

  Renaud appeared genuinely relieved. He bowed. "Then I will take my leave. Adieu, Miss Wyatt."

  "Adieu, Mr. Renaud."

  He departed and Hester spent a few moments musing over this latest show of Galen's affection. Whatever it contained would be extravagant. Galen did nothing by half, so she was also fairly certain that the contents would have to be returned.

  She removed the delicate bow, then the beautiful gold paper. The top of the beige box inside bore the scrolling stamp of one of Windsor's finest dressmakers. Hester's hands shook as she lifted the lid, and then her eyes widened at the sight of the dress inside. The beauty of it took her breath away. It was made from the ivory silk she'd coveted at the Free Produce store in Detroit. Marveling, she lifted the dress fully free, and a small card spilled out. It read: Your wishes are mine to make true. He'd signed it with an elaborate letter G, and below it had placed his familiar dragon seal.