Heartstrings (44 page)

“Theodosia,” Roman groaned. “Oh, God, Theodosia.” He stilled, savoring the long-awaited pleasure of being buried inside her silky wet tightness.

Theodosia was not willing to allow him to be still. She writhed beneath him, impatient for him to bring her the rapture he’d so skillfully given her in the past.

With one swift motion Roman pulled her nightgown above her head and off her arms, then tossed it into the shadows. Taking her stiff nipple into his mouth, he began to show her the true meaning of lovemaking. “You’re going full circle tonight, Theodosia, and I’m going with you. Move with me, sweetheart.”

Though she had never lain with a man before this night, her body knew precisely what to do. Each time he slid out of her, she pressed her hips toward the ground, then raised them to join with him again.

Lost to everything but him, she listened as he murmured endearments and words of encouragement to her. His deep, rich voice caressing her senses, she gave herself up to him in complete abandon.

Her total surrender to him brought Roman a fresh surge of desire, and a more profound determination to take her to the highest pinnacle of ecstasy possible. Keeping his strokes long, deep, and steady, he moved to claim her mouth with his own, and while he drove his tongue between her soft lips, he circled his palm upon the stiff nipples of her erect breasts.

His skillful attentions to so many places on her body at once gave Theodosia the deepest pleasure she had yet to experience, and as her ecstasy rose, she felt her tight passage clutch at Roman, as if embracing him in tiny, rhythmic hugs. His presence inside her enhancing her fulfillment, her senses spinning, and her body bucking beneath him, she screamed out his name.

Her sensual contractions kindled a blaze within Roman’s loins. His hard slick body strained for control, but she pulsed so tightly, so sweetly around him that he ceased to fight back the bliss she offered but instead allowed her to bring him into the same fire of pleasure that consumed her.

Flames of bliss shot through his frame and caught his very soul afire. Shuddering from the extraordinary feelings he’d found in Theodosia’s arms, he kissed her with more passion than he’d ever before shown her…

And spilled his seed inside her.

T
heodosia lay in the crook
of Roman’s arm, her body glistening with the dew of lovemaking and the sheen of moonbeams. A swath of ebony hair cascaded over her breasts, warm, thick, and soft as satin.

Lazily, she looked into her lover’s heavy-lidded eyes. “Was it as beautiful for you as it was for me?” she whispered.

Her question floated through him like a feather on a breeze. “Yes.”

“I will never forget this night, Roman.”

He trailed his hand down the curve of her back and over her bottom, finally resting it upon her smooth thigh. “Just in case you do, I’ll remind you in the morning.”

Realizing he meant to make love to her again when they awakened, she sighed in contentment. “I did not know,” she whispered. “Lovemaking. How could I ever have thought lovemaking to be a mere scientific procedure?”

He spread his kisses to her cheek and eyelids. “You believe everything you read. You should read to wonder. To wonder whether what you’re reading is true or not.” He tucked her more closely into the warm shelter of his body, then drew a blanket over her so the evening breeze would not chill her damp skin.

Read to wonder. Theodosia found the advice both wise and beautiful.

She lost herself in his deep blue eyes again and allowed her thoughts to take her where they would.

They kept her with Roman.

He was not only her friend, she mused, and not only her lover.

He’d become something more.

She glided her fingers into the silk black of his hair, dwelling upon the fact that she’d never doubted Brazil and her research would satisfy every yearning she’d ever had.

She was no longer so certain.

A
t dawn the sound of
crunching leaves broke through Roman’s dream. He had his Colt in hand even before he opened his eyes. “Quiet,” he ordered when Theodosia began to stir beside him.

“Don’t shoot,” a man’s voice called out from the thicket. “I ain’t here to do nary a bit o’ harm. Jest wanted a jag o’ breakfast if you’ve got any to share.”

Holding his revolver steady, Roman watched a man with a shock of white hair trudge out of the woods. The man led a swaybacked mule, upon whose back were piled burlap sacks and a small gray-faced dog.

“How do,” he man greeted, stopping beside the remains of the campfire. “I’m Oble Smott. I seed your wagon through the woods.”

Theodosia sat up in alarm, clutching the blankets to her breasts.

“Oh, pardon me, ma’am,” Oble said, tipping his hat. “I seed your wagon through the woods, but I shore didn’t see that y’all was nekkid. I’ll turn my back fer a spell whilst y’all git your clothes on.” Sensing that Oble Smott was but a harmless wanderer, Roman handed Theodosia her flannel nightgown, then rose and donned his breeches.

“This here’s Stub,” Oble said, scratching his mule’s long ears. “Stub fer stubborn. And my dog’s Chaparito. That’s Mexican fer Little Feller. I got ole Chaparito when I was down in Mexico some ten years ago. I ain’t never been back since on account o’ I couldn’t get me no food a’tall that weren’t swimmin’ in them chili gravies. Lord o’ mercy, them chili gravies give me some
kind
o’ powerful wind. I near ’bout blowed mysef right off the saddle whilst tryin’ to ride out o’ Mexico. Y’all dressed yit?”

Roman glanced at Theodosia and saw her tying the last ribbon on her nightgown. “We’re dressed.”

Oble turned back around and commenced to restart the fire. “Y’all look to be a right happy couple. Who are you?”

So as not to embarrass Theodosia, Roman said, “Mr. and Mrs. Montana. I’m Roman, and my wife is Theodosia.”

“I knowed a Theodosia once,” Oble said. “She had the biggest, purtiest brown eyes y’ever seed in your whole life. And when she blinked them long lashes at me, I’d fall plumb to pieces. Someone stole her, though. Pro’bly et her. I always knowed she’d make fer some good eatin’, but I couldn’t never bring mysef to eat her. Best cow that ever lived, ole Theodosia.”

Theodosia smiled, then burst into loud laughter.

The happy sound of her laughter had Roman chuckling too. Smiling, he set about fetching the food for breakfast. With Theodosia’s help, he soon had a batch of small meat pies frying over the fire.

“Much obliged,” Oble said after he and Chaparito had consumed most of the pies themselves. Patting his tight belly, he leaned back against Stub’s legs, then yelped in surprise when cold water splashed his face.

John the Baptist tossed a second beakful out of his cage. “Much obliged,” he said. “His middle name was Egbert, and they called him Eggy for short. I shore didn’t see that y’all was nekkid.”

Oble howled with laughter. “Lord, that’s one o’ them talkin’ birds! I ain’t never seed one, but I’ve heared of ’em. How y’gittin’ along, bird?”

The parrot cracked a sunflower seed. “If you want a worm, Theodosia, you have to find one yourself. Pull your nightgown up to your waist.”

Quickly, Roman reached for the cage.

“I’m going to spill my seed inside you,” John the Baptist called merrily.

Seeing the flustered expressions on Roman and Theodosia’s faces, Oble laughed again. “Ain’t no need to git all red-faced with me, y’all. If it weren’t fer nightgowns gittin’ pulled up and seed gittin’ spilt, there wouldn’t be no people in the world. Set your minds at ease and tell me where you’re headed.”

Roman set John the Baptist’s cage behind Theodosia and gave the parrot a glare. “Nowhere,” he answered.

“That’s the best place to go,” Oble stated. “Been there mysef many a time. Most folks I meet up with is always hurryin’ around to git to where they’re goin’. They got things to do, places to see, and they cain’t stand wastin’ nary a second gittin’ there to do whatever it is they think cain’t wait to git done or seed. Folks orter slow down some and quit frettin’ over tomorrow when somethin’s starin’ ’em right in the face today.”

He pulled a burr off Chaparito’s stubby tail. “Me? Well, I ain’t done nothin’ earth-shatterin’ important in my life, but I’ll tell you the truth, I’ve enjoyed ever’ minute o’ ever’ one o’ my simple days. ’Specially my days with my beloved Jeweleen. She was my wife fer twenty-two years. We never did git us no young’uns, but we was shore happy. I still miss her, and times come when I wake up in the middle o’ the night and still reach fer her. ‘Course, she ain’t never there, and that’s a real deep-down-sad feelin’. Ole Jeweleen, she used to wear flowers in her hair. I’ll always remember her with flowers in her hair. She growed them flowers hersef, and one time she won a prize at a church festival fer growin’ the purple-est posy.”

He paused, recalling the day at the festival. “I started out havin’ a good time at that church festival, but I got bit by a squirrel right after Jeweleen won her posy prize. That critter sank them teeth o’ his straight through my thumbnail, and it ain’t growed right since. I weren’t tryin’ to do nothin’ to the dang thing but feed him a peanut. Y’know, y’don’t never think about how useful thumbnails is till somethin’ goes wrong with the one y’use the most. I used to use this here bent thumbnail fer cleanin’ out my ears. Cain’t use it fer that no more, and sometimes I wonder if the reason why I cain’t hear like I used to is on account o’ my ears is s’dirty.”

He stood, brushed off his pants, and lifted Chaparito upon Stub’s back. “Well, I’d best be goin’ now. Hold on tight to each other, hear? Love good, laugh a lot, and y’all’ll have a real fine life together.”

When Oble disappeared into the woods, Theodosia stared after him. “He still reaches for his wife at night,” she whispered.

She wondered if she would reach for Roman while sleeping in the jungles of Brazil. And while asleep in the master bedroom of his ranch house, would Roman reach for her?

A painful emptiness tore through her breast, causing her to lay her hand on her chest in an effort to soothe the hurt.

“Theodosia? Are you all right?” Roman asked, noting the look of deep despair etching her fine features.

“What? Yes. Yes, of course I’m all right, Roman. I was only thinking about Mr. Smott.” Quickly, she thought of something completely unrelated to her true thoughts. “He possesses a penchant for rambling speech. Why do people converse in such a manner here in Texas?”

Roman cleaned out the frying pan. “Rambling speech?”

She couldn’t believe he didn’t know what she was talking about. “At one point, Mr. Smott began by telling us that he had done nothing important in his life, and he ended by wondering if his bent thumbnail was the cause of his dirty ears. I do not comprehend the reasons behind such oral meandering.”

Roman smiled. So
that’s
what oral meandering was. “You’re from a city. All you have to do to see people is step out your front door. But out here people usually live far apart. They don’t see each other often, so when they get together, they have so much to say that one subject just naturally leads into another and another. They talk about anything and everything, and when the socializing’s over they go home and start saving up more stuff to talk about when they’re all together again. After a while, that kind of talking becomes a habit, so if country folk ever move to a town they still talk about anything and everything. And it’s not called oral meandering, Theodosia. It’s called chatting.”

“Chatting,” she murmured. “But how does one begin country chatting?”

“By saying anything in the world and then waiting to see what your mind thinks of next. But you’re from the North. You probably can’t do it,” he challenged.

She concentrated on the first statement she would make. “Oble Smott had white hair.”

Roman anticipated her next sentence, but she said nothing. “And?”

She simply could not think of anything else to say.

“Did his white hair remind you of anything?” Roman offered.

She closed her eyes and saw something white flash through her mind. “His hair was as white as the bedspread I used to have on my bed when I was a little girl.”

“Good, good. Now, what does the bedspread make you think about?”

“I spilled tea on that bedspread and tried to hide it with a quilt, but Mrs. Singleton found the stain. Mrs. Singleton was my governess, and she always smelled of peppermint because her pockets were full of the candies. Once she and I went on an outing to the park, and we fell asleep on the bench. I woke up first and tickled Mrs. Singleton awake by brushing a dandelion under her nose. She sneezed so hard that her spectacles flew off and landed in the grass. A man stepped on and broke them, so I had to lead poor Mrs. Singleton home.”

When she opened her eyes she saw Roman smiling at her.

“Tell me what Mrs. Singleton’s spectacles have to do with Oble Smott’s white hair, Theodosia.”

“Nothing.”

“That’s country chatting.”

She realized there was nothing to analyze about the oral meandering after all. Such manner of talk was a simple matter of putting memories into a string of oddly connected, but friendly chatter. And strange though the chatter seemed to her intellectual ears, she’d somehow become accustomed to it and found it rather soothing.