Contract to Wed (12 page)

Jolene walked to him slowly, and he watched as she did, his
fists clenching and unclenching, and his sex pushing against the fabric of his
pants. She licked her lips and didn’t stop moving until her breasts brushed
against his chest and she could smell the unique manly scent that she
associated with Maximillian. She reached up and looped her hands around his
neck and pulled his head towards hers. She kissed him open-mouthed, and slipped
her tongue in his, circling the soft interior of his lips. She moved her hand
over his shoulder, warm and solid, and ran her fingers slowly up his neck and
around the shell of his ear.

Maximillian was breathing hard and shaking, and he had yet
to touch her except where she touched him. Finally, he grabbed her by the waist
and pulled her close. He angled his head and plunged his tongue in her mouth,
pressed her hips against his with one hand, and sank his other hand into her
hair. Jolene heard a single pin hit the floor and felt her curls cascade down
her back. Maximillian wrapped his fist in them and held her head still while he
kissed her. He released her hair and ran a calloused finger past her collar
bone and pulled the satin gown away, taking her breast in his hand.

“Sweet Jesus,” he said in a low, rough whisper into her ear.
“I can’t wait, Jolene. Tell me to stop. Tell me now or I may not be able to.”

Jolene was at a place she’d never planned to be. Sex with
Turner had mostly been an obligatory and forgettable joining with none of the
raw passion she was experiencing now. Maximillian was staring at her with desire
and barely restrained hunger; his look alone heightened her own need and
tightened her nipples against the silk of her gown. Instinct had taken over and
she allowed it. She realized she was desirable to him, and he to her, on the
basest, most primal level. She ran a nail up his erection and he groaned

Maximillian cupped and clutched her breast while his tongue
plunged in and out of her mouth.  Her hips bucked against him, and she let
out a throaty cry, as he backed her up till her knees hit a brocade chaise.  He
pulled her gown over her head, turned, stretched out on the couch and lifted her
leg to straddle him.

With little ceremony, she dropped onto him. He lurched up,
took a breath through clenched teeth and looked down where they connected and
back to her with heavy-lidded eyes as he held her hips, and pumped her up and
down. His chest glistened with sweat, and she leaned into his hands, as he
rubbed rough thumbs across her nipples and pulled her breast to his mouth.

Jolene was drifting, floating near to some oblivious plane
of consciousness and physicality that was pleasure. She let herself feel it.
With each stroke from him at her breast or at the juncture of their bodies,
with every shallow breath or groan she heard from him, with the vision of his
want so clear in his eyes, she let herself be pulled closer and closer.
Maximillian was whispering in her ear now, telling her in a vulgar, erotic
description exactly what he was doing. It was his words, she thought, in the last
rational corner of her mind that took her over some carnal brink, and then
released her.

* * *

Max took a deep, shuddering breath
and let his eyes close.

Sex with Jolene was a lesson in sensuality. She was what he
imagined every man dreamed of.  While modest and proper when clothed, she
was overtly sexual in the grip of passion, moving over him, touching him,
licking her lips and him with no shyness. She was still breathing hard, sitting
on top of him, her head bowed and her long curls of blonde hanging down and
tickling his stomach. He reached up through her hair to touch her face and
cradle her cheek.

“Jolene,” he whispered. “My God. You are perfect.”

She sat back and opened her eyes as if regaining
consciousness just in that moment. Jolene looked at him and down to where he
was still firmly sheathed between her outstretched thighs. Max rubbed her cheek
with his thumb.

“I didn’t hurt you did I? I couldn’t . . .” Max stopped as
Jolene stood abruptly, separating their bodies, leaving him missing her weight
and her warmth. “Jolene?” He said as he watched her bend down to retrieve her
gown. She turned and walked towards the adjoining door. Max jumped up from the
chaise and caught her arm. “Jolene. Where are you going?”

When she turned, her face had lost every bit of softness
he’d seen just moments before. The cold, haughty woman that was Jolene’s shield
against hurt, he was sure, had returned. He dropped his hand and she went
through the door to her room. Max heard the key turn in the lock.

* * *

Jolene’s emotions were a shamble.
Why,
oh why, did she ever go in to Maximillian’s room?
She knew what would
happen. She knew! That knowledge did little to stop her though, and now she was
open to him, exposed to him. He’d seen her lose her control. How humiliating!
She would be particularly cool and keep him firmly at arm’s length as she’d
always been able to do with Turner.

Jolene took a deep, resolute breath as the carriage pulled
in front of the Hacienda the following afternoon. She climbed down without
waiting for assistance.

“Jolene,” Maximillian said as he came up behind her. “We
need to talk.”

Jolene watched as two young men carried her trunks into the
house, Alice ahead of them. She looked up at her husband. “Concerning what
matter?”

Maximillian’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Why did
you scurry away last night? Were you hurt?”

“Hurt?” she asked. “Hurt about what? I’ve got much to do
today. Is there anything else you need?”

“Yes. I have to know if you’re alright. And don’t play games
with me. You were as amazed as I was at what happened at the hotel.”

Jolene shrugged. “I’m fine, Maximillian. But certainly
nothing out of the ordinary happened to cause me to be otherwise.”

Maximillian jerked back as if she’d slapped him across the
face. But then he smiled. “Don’t think you’ve put me off. One thing I’ve
learned in the last few months is that you are determined not to allow anyone
to get close to you. Well, we got close last night,” he said and took a step
forward. “We got hot, Jolene, and I can still feel you riding me, with your
hair swinging, while I suckled you. There’s no denying it and I can see now by
the blush climbing up your face that you remember, too. We’re going talk,
Jolene. Maybe not today. But we’re going to talk.”

Jolene watched Maximillian turn and walk away towards the
barns.
Horrid man!
To remind her in such a crude fashion, here, where
one of the servants may have overheard him, that she’d succumbed last night.
She’d forgotten everything she’d learned over the years about keeping her emotions,
her heart, firmly guarded and had been open with and to him, if only in the
physical sense, and he knew that, and damn him, if he wasn’t using it against
her!

Jolene spent the day and much of the next in her rooms.
Alice hovered about, unpacking her things and fetching her tea and meals.
Jolene remained silent until Melinda slipped past Alice as she carried in her
luncheon.

“Are you sick?” the girl asked.

Jolene shook her head.

“I wore my split skirt yesterday and tried the side saddle.
I wanted to be good at it before you got home, but it is hard,” Melinda said.
“I changed into a dress for dinner both days, even though I ate in the
kitchens.”

“Side saddle is hard, especially if all you’ve ridden is a
work saddle all your life,” Jolene said finally.

“Am I not to have classes today?”

Jolene stared at Melinda. As much as she wished to be angry,
to continue to be furious with herself and with her situation, she found there
was less and less justification, less steam to her fury, once she was
realistic, and why take it out on Melinda in any regard. She was married. It
was a fact. She and her husband had had sex, which on its own was certainly
unremarkable, other than that it was glorious and rapturous. He husband was a
very sexy man. Married women had sex, of their own desires, or more often
because they were required to, all the time.

She remembered listening to Lenora, oh, how she hated that
woman, but she remembered her talking about her husband, Martin. Never a night
passed that he did not tell her to strip and spread her legs. If she protested,
he held her hands over her head and rolled on top of her. While the telling
sounded boorish, and even brutal, Lenora was content with and even, Jolene
suspected, obliging and satisfied, to their semi-truthful pretense of master
and supplicant. And otherwise, Martin denied Lenora nothing.

For herself, Jolene did not need a man to demand her
attention to feel desirous of him. She had wanted Turner from the moment she
met him. She’d been hopeful then and triumphant in gaining the eye of such a
handsome man who was in her father’s favor. Oh, she reveled in Turner’s
attention and his impatience for their wedding night. That night had been
anxious at first for her and Turner both, but they were both ready to explore
each other. And they did, many times until the dawn broke. Jolene could remember
the contentedness she felt, the hopefulness, as if a world away from her
mother’s scorn and censure was within in her grasp with a man that she dared
believe she loved and knew that she desired. Ah, how quickly that hopefulness
drained away. But sex with Maximillian was nothing like sex with Turner. Oh,
no. Maximillian’s sex appeal was because of who he was and how he treated her,
let alone how gorgeous and manly he was when he shed his clothes.

Jolene sat up on the edge of the chaise. Melinda sat down
beside her.

“Daddy said you charmed every man, woman, and child within a
mile of that ballroom on Saturday night. How did you do it?” she asked.

“Your father is being overly kind,” Jolene said.

Melinda looked at Alice. “How did she do it?”

Alice looked up with a small smile and a glance to Jolene.
“Mrs. Shelby is a beautiful accomplished woman, and she chooses gowns and such
that show her features in their best light, Miss Melinda.”

Melinda faced her. “I want to do that. I want to look
beautiful and accomplished.”

“The best method for that is
to be
accomplished, and
you are already beautiful. Which means we best get to the classroom. There are
Latin verbs to conjugate.”

Melinda ran off and Jolene urged her to walk. She looked at
Alice. “Well, I’d best get dressed. I’m apparently going to the classroom. By
the way, how was the play?”

Alice looked up quickly, and her face colored. She turned
her attention back to Jolene’s gown now spread on the bed. “It was wonderful.
The play was wonderful. Thank you.”

“The theatre was not far from the hotel, was it, Alice? Mr.
Shelby did ask the desk clerk.”

“No, ma’am. It was not far at all. Just a restaurant between
the hotel and the theatre entrance. I have saved my playbill.”

“I am glad you enjoyed it.”

Alice stood straight and turned to Jolene. She took a deep
breath and held her hands at her waist. “Mr. Moran came with me, ma’am. I did
not ask him to. I wanted you to know that.”

“To the play, Alice?” Jolene asked and Alice nodded. “I’m
sure you were the model of decorum. Be careful, though, Alice. We do not know
Mr. Moran well, and we are here permanently. Do not let yourself be in a
situation where you would want to leave the Hacienda. I believe you would miss
your new life here . . . and I would miss you as well.”

Alice’s eyes filled with tears. “I do not want to leave. I
am happy here.”

“Then you must be particularly careful.”

Alice gathered Jolene’s dresses in her arms and hurried
through to the dressing room. Jolene spent the next two hours in the classroom
with Melinda until Maria knocked on the door.

“A letter for you, Mrs. Shelby,” she said

“Thank you, Maria,” Jolene said and took the letter. She
looked at Melinda. “Continue with your reading for another half an hour, and
then you are dismissed. I am going to read this letter from my sister, Julia,
in the meantime.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yes. I have two sisters, Jennifer and Julia, both younger
than I,” she said.

“I wish Daddy and you would give me a sister,” Melinda said.

Jolene’s face colored. “That is highly unlikely, so there is
little value in considering it.”

“I know how babies are made,” Melinda said and stared at
Jolene.

“Do you?”

Melinda nodded. “I listen to the men talking and see the
horses in the corral. It is an odd thing. Is it the same for boys and girls?”

“Young ladies do not discuss this topic, Melinda. It is
unsuitable.”

“Why not?”

“It is adult business, that is why. You must trust me on
this. There will be a time when you have changes in your body. I will discuss
things with you then.”

“What changes?”

“You will know when they happen. Come directly to me, and I
will tell you what to do. We will discuss other things as well at that time,”
she said.

Melinda nodded solemnly. Jolene took her letter and climbed
the steps to her rooms. Now she was committed to a conversation that she never,
ever envisioned having, especially after William’s death, and her and Turner’s
differences were no longer reconcilable even for short periods of time. Bother!
With each interaction she became more entwined with Melinda’s life, and she
must face the fact now that at some point Melinda would disappoint and hurt
her. She knew with a sudden realization that the girl had some power over her.
Jolene liked her. She thought Melinda had great potential. She was kind and
forthright, two attributes Jolene would have dismissed in her past. Melinda
would experience pain herself as she grew up; it was inevitable for a person
who was involved in other’s lives. But more than that, Jolene was concerned
that she cared for Melinda, perhaps even more than caring. Jolene was unsure if
she could identify the emotion, but she she thought perhaps she was coming to
love Melinda at some level. How perturbing!