Captive Bride (18 page)

The new position allowed him to go even deeper, and he hit a place inside her that sent a jolt of pained 162

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pleasure through her. He grunted and froze and she actually felt the moment he released inside her.

“Oh,” he exhaled with his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open and gasping for breath. She smiled, caught up in his rapt expression and the wonder of his body merged so completely with hers. A moment passed with only his heavy breathing disturbing the silence.

At last he sighed and opened his eyes and he was back with her once more. “Huiann.” She loved the way he mispronounced her name. “Thank you.” He slowly withdrew from her one last time. “I hope I didn’t hurt you. Are you all right?”

“
Shi.
Yes, I am good,” she acknowledged.
Better
than good. I am absolutely content.

He shifted to his side, releasing her from his imprisoning weight. She missed it. He rolled off the bed and went to dispose of the contraceptive then returned with a glass of water filled from the pitcher.

She thanked him and emptied the glass in several thirsty gulps.

Huiann wondered if she should put her nightgown back on, but Alan climbed into bed beside her and pulled her naked body against his. She settled into the curve of his body, his front heating her back.

“Huiann, is it all right?” His breath tickled her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have…” She looked at him over her shoulder. “You are sorry? I am not.”

“No?” His eyebrow lifted.

“No.” She patted his arm, feeling the coarse hair and solid muscle. “Sleep now.” Bonnie Dee

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“Yes, ma’am.” He kissed the nape of her neck, making her laugh, and laid his head on the pillow behind hers.

Huiann fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the unaccustomed exercise and stress of her day, but later in the night she jerked awake. Alan’s arm was no longer around her and he was sitting up in bed. She reached for him in the dark. His back was slick with sweat and he was breathing hard.

“Alan? All right?”

“Yes. A dream.” He patted her hip and rose from the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

He walked from the room.

Should she go after him and soothe him as she had the other night? She could heat water for his coffee and sit with him at the table. But maybe he wanted to be alone. If he’d wanted her comfort, he would’ve stayed in bed with her.

She stared at the darkness and wondered what demons filled it, continuing to disturb Alan’s peace even after the joy they had just shared.

Chapter Thirteen

Alan’s jaw ached from smiling and his throat was sore from making small talk. If having dinner with Mrs.

Dodge and her ilk was what it took to be a politician, he didn’t know if he could make it to election day. It wasn’t that his friendliness toward the constituents was false. He cared about them, their families and their concerns, and wanted to be in a position to help them make their lives better. But the road to hell was often paved with good intentions, as his father had been fond of pointing out, and the deeper he got into campaigning, the more Alan realized the extent of the compromises he’d have to make in order to get anything done once he finally achieved office. There were too many different agendas, too many people to please.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul. That was one of his mother’s expressions. It seemed government was a tangled tapestry—pull one thread and chaos ensued.

Even the best of men would end up giving ground on one issue in order to gain support for another.

“The Chinese have their place and it’s doing menial labor. The only businesses or property they should be allowed to own should be in their section of the city.” George Harrelson, a railroad man originally from New Jersey, flicked the ash from the end of his cigar.

There was a general murmur of agreement from the gentlemen seated around the table in the Dodge’s dining room.

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“Where do you stand on the Oriental menace?” Mr.

Dodge prompted Alan to respond.

He exhaled and searched for the most diplomatic way to disagree with the consensus that the Chinese race was inferior and therefore not deserving of equal rights.

“It’s often feared that new immigrants will take away too many jobs from American citizens but, gentlemen, we are all descended from immigrant stock.

While I agree with the idea of yearly quotas concerning the number of immigrants allowed to enter our fair country, I don’t think we can hobble the rights of those already established here. During the recent conflict, did we not fight for freedom and equality for all?”

“Some of us fought for our independence.” Robert Jay’s soft Carolina drawl reminded Alan he was treading on treacherous ground. Invoking the civil conflict was probably not the best idea.

“Do you agree that if a man has enough money, he can buy a loaf of bread?” Alan began again.

“Yes. I suppose,” Jay agreed.

“Or a ticket on one of your trains, Mr. Harrelson?”

“I’d be happy to sell him a ticket anywhere he wants to go—so long as he rides in the proper compartment.” Harrelson chuckled at the caveat and the others joined in.

“Say you want to rent or sell a house,” Alan suggested to Tolliver, a real estate broker. “Wouldn’t one man’s money be as good as the next so long as he paid on time?”

“No,” Tolliver stated flatly, puncturing the argument Alan was trying to build. “I don’t sell 166

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property to coloreds, yellows or Mexicans. They can rent as long as it’s someplace appropriate. They’re inferior races and belong with their own kind.” Dodge could see Alan was backed into a corner and stepped in to bail him out. “Taxation. That’s something we can all agree needs change. Our dollars keep flowing into the city coffers but do we see the results in the roads or sewer system or schools? That’s the kind of change Sommers stands for.” Alan was able to end the discussion on a subject he could enthusiastically discuss and after that the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the parlor. A few pleasantries and compliments later, Alan was free to leave, having fulfilled the duty he’d shirked a few weeks earlier.

He walked home, exhausted and feeling rather ill from the rich food, the cigar smoke and the Chinese-bashing that struck much closer to his heart now than it ever had before. If the truth about his relationship with the seamstress at his store ever got out, he wouldn’t have a vote to his name. But he hated that he had to keep Huiann a secret when he wanted to shout his feelings about her to the world.

It was late when he arrived home, but a lamp burned in the kitchen, welcoming him home. He climbed the stairs, each step lighter as it brought him closer to the best part of his day.

Huiann was asleep in his bed, curled up as soft and warm as a kitten. He stripped off his clothes and crawled under the covers, spooning up against her back, his erection prodding at her rear. She made a small protesting noise and wiggled against him, which only made him harder. He didn’t mean to disturb her Bonnie Dee

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sleep so he held her close, his cock resting in the groove of her rear, her breast cupped in his hand, her hair tickling his chin.

Just as he was drifting to sleep, she shifted her bottom and pressed her breast into his palm. She hummed in her throat and rubbed harder against his growing erection. Alan pushed aside the silky mass of her hair so he could kiss her neck and back. He reached into the front of her nightdress and fondled her breast.

She sat up long enough to remove the gown and then settled back into his embrace once more. He moved his hand from her breast to her belly and down to her pussy, stroking her clitoris until she moaned and rocked against his finger.

Nudging her legs apart, he guided himself to her entrance and slid inside. It was like coming in from a cold day to roast in front of a roaring fire. Her heat and wetness surrounded him as he thrust deep within.

Setting up an easy rhythm, he pumped into her, aroused by the slap of her bottom against his groin.

Her slender form seemed too small to hold him, but her body accepted every inch he had to give.

It wasn’t until he’d moved them both almost to climax that Alan remembered he’d forgotten to wear one of the condoms he’d purchased. As the heat and tension built to a critical point, Alan pulled out and spilled over her backside. He stared at the spatters of white against her golden skin marking her as his, excited by the sight as waves of climax surged through him.

When he was finished, he returned his attention to stimulating the bud of her clitoris. Underneath his 168

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circling finger, Huiann began to moan and writhe. Her ecstasy thrilled him as she bucked in his arms.

Afterward he wiped them both clean, then they curled together once more. Soon Huiann fell back to sleep, her heavy breathing lulling him into a doze. But he was afraid to sleep too deeply. Over the past days since he and Huiann had first come together, the nightmares continued to haunt him. She’d made him the happiest he’d ever been, so why, after a week of falling asleep in the bliss of her embrace every night, did he still suffer the claustrophobic prison dreams—

those wretched, reaching hands and the frustrating inability to move or to help? If these transcendent moments with Huiann couldn’t dispel them, maybe nothing ever could. What would it take to slay those wartime demons at last?

“Mr. Sommers, do you want me to put out the new wheel of cheese or sell the rest of the old one first?” Alan paused in restocking the laundry flakes and regarded Jeremy’s earnest face. Only he could take a block of cheese so seriously and be so indecisive about it.

“Whatever you think best. You decide.” Jeremy paused and thought then brightened. “I’ll put out the new one, but mark down the old. That should get it moving.” Impressed with his marketing genius, he went whistling off to put his plan in place.

Alan shook his head. Jeremy wasn’t the sharpest nail in the bin, but he was good-natured and loyal—a born follower, not likely to ever be a leader. He hoped Cynthia Dodge didn’t lead him right into folly. He could imagine her making use of Jeremy to attempt to Bonnie Dee

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manipulate her mother into sending her back east and then dropping him cold when it became clear her mama’s will was stronger than hers and would not be denied. Jeremy was ready to abandon his life in San Francisco, pack a bag and buy two tickets to New York if Cynthia so much as crooked her little finger at him. Hopefully those tickets would be refundable. In the meantime, Alan would hold his job for him.

Alan slit the top of another carton and unpacked more boxes of laundry flakes. He thought of Huiann as he worked, imagining how he would make love to her tonight. They existed in a little bubble of bliss right now, rushing into one another’s arms the moment Dora was gone for the day. Dora arrived every morning about the time Alan left for the store, stayed for lunch and left just before suppertime. If she noticed the heated looks that passed between them during the noon hour, she ignored them and chattered on about every single thing that crossed her mind.

The evenings he and Huiann used to spend in the parlor practicing her English now took place in Alan’s bed. When she learned new words, he rewarded her with kisses and caresses, and her understanding grew rapidly.

Huiann’s dresses were selling well and they discussed plans to expand her business. Alan looked into renting space, supplies and hiring workers. He was close to purchasing an abandoned farm near the outskirts of the city. It would be hard to have Huiann so far away from him, but she would be safer there, less likely to be discovered by Xie Fuhua and free to go outside, take a walk and breathe fresh air. She was 170

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nearly as caged living with him as she had been in her captor’s house.

A pang of guilt went through him as he considered her future—their future. The conversation at the Dodges the other day had served to remind him of the severe prejudice they would face if they married.

Mixed race couples invited censure from both of their races. Not only would Alan’s political aspirations be finished, but very likely his store would be boycotted if he took Huiann as his wife.

But what was the alternative? To keep her hidden in his rooms like a doll he took out to play with only when no one was looking?

The bell above the door rang, distracting Alan from his worries. Cynthia Dodge entered the store, wearing a lilac frock and carrying a matching parasol. Jeremy looked up from fussing with the wheel of cheese and glowed at the sight of Miss Dodge. If he had a tail, he’d wag it.

Cynthia returned Jeremy’s smile but headed across the store to Alan. “Good morning, Mr. Sommers.”

“You’re out early, Miss Dodge.” He was surprised to see her without a chaperone and wondered if her mother knew where she was.

“I heard you have a new dressmaker. I’ve seen some of her lovely work and thought I might order something.”

“She duplicates designs from
Godey’s,
if you’d like to take a look.” Alan took the magazine from beneath the counter. “I have an errand to run, but Mr. Taylor will be happy to assist you.” He beckoned Jeremy over.

The clerk beamed like someone had bequeathed him a fortune, but Cynthia’s expression was less clear. She Bonnie Dee

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seemed genuinely pleased to see Jeremy but Alan still felt she was using him.

Alan went to the back of the store where the safe sat in an alcove. He removed the previous day’s receipts in the small canvas bag, put on his coat and hat and headed out of the store to take the deposit to the bank. The midmorning streets were already crowded and the sidewalks had a steady flow of pedestrian traffic. Alan carried the bank bag strapped around his body beneath his coat. He had his derringer, which he’d never needed, tucked into an inside pocket of his coat. He hadn’t fired a gun since that aborted battle during which he’d been knocked unconscious almost immediately.

He kept an eye out for rental signs in windows of buildings as he passed and turned down a side street to check on one he knew was vacant. The proximity to his store would be convenient and it didn’t hurt to investigate all possibilities.