Indigo (31 page)

When they reached Whittaker, Branton thought it wise for Mary and her daughters to move on right away. Hester agreed, especially with Shoe lurking about.

Branton drove them on to Detroit personally. From there he'd make arrangements for the fugitive family to be spirited across the river and into Canada.

Hester entered her house tired but glad she'd been able to win the small skirmish for freedom. She'd heard many poignant tales during her years on the Road, but today's incident pulled at her heart. Had Mary really loved her master? He seemed to harbor very strong feelings for her, yet he evidently lacked the ability to see the world through her eyes. Her sons had been her children, but to him they'd been chattel. How many more lives would slavery destroy before it could be put to death? There were already thousands of casualties, and every day the numbers rose.

After washing up and donning one of Galen's beautiful nightgowns from the chest, Hester sat in her rocker. The windows had been thrown open to let in the early evening breeze and she let the flow rid her of the weariness brought on by the past few days. She thought of Foster and Jenine, and the heartbreak her friend was destined to experience because of his wife's adultery; she thought back on poor Mary and the drama at the depot, but most of Hester's thoughts centered on Galen. Love seemed to have brought only sorrow to those around her, but her love for Galen brought nothing but joy. His kisses had become the balm for all that ailed her, and she realized she could use some of that balm now. She walked to her window and looked out over the night. She wondered if he was at home and what he was doing. She decided to put her newly born recklessness into action and go see. She hadn't seen him all day and she missed him.

She took a moment to run down to the kitchen and dab herself strategically with vanilla, then covered her nightgown with her most voluminous cape and headed out the door.

Maxi answered the Folly's door.
"Chiquita?
What are you doing about so late?"

"Is Mr. Vachon in?"

"He's already turned in for the night."

Hester glanced wistfully up the grand staircase. "I see," then asked quietly, "Would you escort me to him anyway?"

Maxi met Hester's eyes, and then asked, "Shall I take your cape?"

Hester thought about the nightgown underneath the cape and stammered, "Um-no. I'll keep it with me."

"This way then."

Hester followed Maxi up the stairs and through the upper floors of the house. Everywhere Hester looked she saw beautiful paintings, fine furnishings, and expensive statues. Maxi pulled open a set of ornately carved double doors, then stepped aside. "His rooms are through the door to your right."

"Thank you," Hester whispered.

Maxi closed the double doors and left Hester alone. Hester braced herself then slowly walked to Galen's door.

She had to knock twice before she heard him call enter.

Inside, the room was dark. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, and then a soft rustling sound at her right drew her attention.

"What is it, Max?" he called sleepily.

Hester answered softly, "It's me, Galen."

For a moment there was only silence and then,
"Petite?
What—"

She heard a match strike, then saw the faint flame of a lamp. A beat later, a soft light bathed the shadows. From beneath the large canopy atop his bed he stared at her with confused eyes. He slowly dragged the bedding across his lap as he sat up. "Has something happened?"

Hester shook her head, no. "No. I—simply wanted to see you."

He stayed silent so long Hester began to question the soundness of being a reckless woman. She asked, "Should I not have come?"

Galen wondered if he was dreaming, or if this were simply a delusion brought on by all the cognac he consumed this evening in an effort to drown his need for her. It certainly didn't feel like a dream and the sight of her standing in the shadows had rendered him undeniably sober. "No, I'm glad you came," he managed to say.

Hester stood shyly in the center of the room.

Galen asked, "Should I come to you or are you going to come to me?"

She felt very nervous all of a sudden as the uncertainty of why she'd come to see him tonight coupled itself with her desire for him. "I'll come to you," she quietly replied.

First though, she had to remove her cape. She did so slowly, then let it slip soundlessly from her shoulders to pool at her feet.

The fire that leapt to his eyes made her feel powerful, sensual.

This damn well better not be a dream, Galen thought to himself. The sight of her standing there so fetchingly made his manhood throb like a Yoruban drum. As she walked slowly toward him, Galen found it harder and harder to breathe. He cleared his throat. Through the haze of the thin gown he could see the points of her sweet dark breasts as the fabric swayed in sultry motion. His limbs trembled in anticipation. When she stopped beside the bed, Galen's blood began to pound in his ears.

"Lovely gown,
petite
..."

"Thank you, the man who gave it to me has exquisite taste."

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asked huskily.

"I'm waiting for an invitation." Her eyes were as heated as her words.

"Then come to me."

As soon as she sat on the bed, he covered her with the thin blanket and cradled her against his body. She jumped, startled by the warm press of his nakedness. "You're not wearing anything."

His hand slid over the satin smoothness of her back, bared by the gown. "It is how I sleep,
ma coeur.
You'll get used to it." He placed a kiss on her shoulder and felt her tremble in soft response. It pleased him to have her near. He continued to make slow, wide circles over her back. When she purred in contentment, he smiled. "Do you like that?"

In response she slid closer. She liked the way he touched her, as if she were made of silk, as if her arms were the rarest of black porcelain and her back unburnished gold. She raised up and kissed his mouth. He placed a gentle hand behind her head and returned her kiss with a delicious, languid intensity that sent heat surging through every fiber of her being.

"Thank you for coming. Boldness becomes you, Indigo..."

"And who taught me to be forward?"

They kissed one another passionately for a few silent moments, then parted reluctantly.

She placed her hand against his handsome face. "I missed not seeing you today."

Galen felt his desire leap another notch at her confession. He searched her small face, saw the need in her eyes, and replied softly, "Truth be told, I've been waiting for you to come to me all day..."

He kissed the sweetness of her mouth and felt the tiny sensations brought on by his ardor. The initial stiffness of her posture melted as she relaxed against him sighing, pressing herself closer to his hard chest and the spell woven by his lips.

His ragged breathing and bright eyes matched her own. He couldn't ever remember wanting a woman as much as he did Hester right now. The male in him wanted to ease himself into her heat and fill her until the night echoed with her pleasuring, her virginity be damned. But the man in him had vowed not to pressure her. "If you don't want all I have to give, you should say so now..."

He spoke the words hotly against her mouth and she kissed every movement his lips made. "I want it, Galen...all there is."

His big golden hand slid over the silk nightgown gracing her legs and thighs. "You should always be gowned in silk," he whispered. "Your gowns should be soft as your skin..."

He kissed the warmth of her neck while opening the tiny ribbons closing the lace-edged bodice. When it was fully removed he said, "Gowns as soft as this..."

His lips brushed the bare skin below her neck and Hester sucked in her breath. She trembled as he moved lower, teasing the tender warmth between her breasts then the smooth plane above. His tongue slid over the inside curve when she arched her back. She'd grown up an untouched woman raised by an untouched, maiden aunt. Until she met Galen, she had no idea being with a man held such power, such majesty. The idea that she'd actually sought him out was unbelievable, but she hadn't come this far to back out now. She would not deny herself this one, beautiful night.

Galen traced her lips and when they parted he kissed her slowly, gently, wanting this moment to last an eternity. His lips teased the warmth of her neck, the shell of her ear. He'd never initiated a virgin before; all the women in his past were experienced in the sensual arts and had lost their virginity long before he entered their lives, but Hester was different. Only he had ever cupped her opulent breasts and thumbed the nipples until they hardened like berries. He was the only man to bring those same nipples to his mouth, and hear her soft intakes of breath. She'd come to him tonight to offer her most precious gift. Galen planned to express his gratitude by paying her prolonged, erotic tribute.

His mouth upon her breasts filled Hester with such soaring emotions she couldn't lie still. Her hips were rising in reaction. His hands, moving so possessively over her thighs, only increased her feverish state.

Galen found her more lushly delicate than he could have ever imagined. Her skin beneath his hands, soft as an angel's, drew him to sample her lingeringly. Her responses, virginal yet uninhibited, added to his own driving need. He touched his lips to her mouth, and when it parted in reply he slid his tongue over the sensitive corners. He bit her lip gently, and felt her damp nipples tighten like pebbles beneath his hand.

Her back arched as she strained for more. Galen lovingly and wantonly answered her silent plea. He ran strong hands down the taut expanse of her ribs and waist. Galen had learned the art of pleasure from the hands of the world's most celebrated courtesans, and he'd learned his lessons well. He knew where to touch her and where to caress. He knew her virgin body had never been explored to the fullest so he played her gently, arousing her with vibrant touches of his hands and lips, coaxing her to let him enjoy her so she would enjoy in return.

When his lips brushed her navel, Hester groaned in the half lit silence. He repeated the delicate gesture against the small whorl, then grazed his hand over the soft, dark garden of her woman's hair. Hester reached out to touch him, wanting to give back some of the fire he'd stoked within her, but he brought her hands to his lips, saying, "Just lie back,
petite.
Tonight, it will all be for you..."

And he kept his word. Every caress brought a leap of fire. Every touch made her soar. His hands moving up and down her thighs made them part with erotic innocence. He accepted her invitation and slid his fingers over the damp offering.

"Oh..." she whispered.

He leaned down and kissed her mouth. "Oh, what...?"

But she couldn't speak. His hands were too knowing, the licks against her navel too exciting. When he parted her wantonly then kissed her heatedly, her hips came up off the bed.

He gently brought her back. "Don't run away yet
petite...
the fun's just beginning..."

Her virgin body was no match for his tender expertise. Hester wanted to be touched by his powerful magic. The need for completion tore through her like a white-hot bolt of lightning, until she exploded in the age-old bearing of passion.

He brought her back to herself with kisses and touches which left her shimmering like stars. She finally opened her eyes and looked up at the man smiling down. "You are a very proper lover indeed, Galen Vachon."

"My pleasure, La Indigo. Now...are you ready...?"

She nodded. Unable to resist, she ran her hand over the strength in his golden arm. How would she learn to live without him?

But her thoughts soon faded. It began again, the passionate touches, the dallying kisses, the heat. She moaned and twisted in response as he whispered words of love in French, and promised her pleasure in Cuban Castilian. While the strokes of his long-boned fingers teased her into the rhythm of desire, his lips once again teased her breasts in sweet, fevered counterpoint.

To ready her for his possession, Galen slid a finger into her virgin cove. She tightened around him and he shuddered. His own pleasure was put off a moment so he could enjoy the sight of her. He eased his fingers out once more, touching, circling. Then, while she lay, dazed, pulsing, and keening softly, he eased his manhood into her damp heat.

Hester stiffened.

"We'll go slow," he promised grazing his mouth across her lips. "It will hurt just once."

And it did. So much so, tears filled her eyes. He kissed them away, soothing her, trying not to add more pain. For a moment he held there until he felt her relax a bit around him. When she did, he began to stroke her with the gentlest strokes he could manage, forcing himself to maintain a slow pace. Only after he felt certain she would enjoy their lovemaking did he let himself begin again in earnest.

As the pain began to subside, Hester's body began to respond. Soon his strokes became more rhythmic, more enticing. Soon she was once again being heated from within. The rhythm increased, becoming possessive, deeper. She let her body have its head, let it be taught the ways of man and woman, and when the lesson ended in another bolt of heat, Hester screamed his name.