Jane Bonander (22 page)

Louisa pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “As a young’un, she was worked to the bone. Nothin’ ever satisfied that evil bitch.
Nothin
’. Then, Lord help her, she grew into a young woman, beautiful and ripe for the pickin’, poor darlin’. She would’ve been better off if she’d been standin’ behind the door when God gave out good looks. Instead, she was at the front of the line.”

Nate’s insides quivered with fury. He clenched his fists, willing himself to stand quietly and listen.

“The only good thing Ma Walker ever did was have an iron grip on them two boys of hers. They didn’t dare fondle Honeybelle until she tol’ them they could. ’Course, she never let Sonny touch the girl. Sonny was a cocky bastard, always mouthin’ off to his ma. Harlan was her favorite, prob’ly ’cause he was soft in the head and let her lead him around by the nose. She’s the one who made Honeybelle marry that skunk. Poor chile was only fifteen, still a baby herself.

“Things wasn’t good. Harlan started slappin’ her around after his ma up and died. ’Afore that, he was just plain mean, but he never hit her. Honeybelle quit comin’ to see me then. I had to find her. I think she was afraid to talk about it, for fear of things gettin’ worse if Harlan found out. She was also ashamed. She had some fool notion that it was
her
fault that Harlan beat her.”

Louisa took a quick breath, plucked a shirt from the basket and pinned it to the line. “I jes’ happened by that mornin’ she stabbed Harlan with the scissors. I helped her get away. She mighta stayed and took the consequences, but she’d have been a fool to do it. No one in that town cared that Harlan slapped her around. Lotsa men did it to their women.” Her eyes grew hard. “Seems it was a matter of
pride
,” she finished, her voice laced with anger.

“An’, Mister Nathan, I only know part of the story. There’s lots of it still locked up inside poor Honeybelle’s head.”

Finally, she turned to him. “Ain’t you got somethin’ better to do?” She nodded toward the trees. “Seems like that boy of yours could use some company. I done all the talkin’ I’m gonna do.”

Dismissed, Nate hurried back to Jackson. Outwardly, he was calm, but inside, he seethed with a frenzied hatred that nearly consumed him. Somehow, he would make Sonny Walker pay for the sins of his family.

That evening, as Nathan requested, Susannah carried Corey to the shed. Pushing open the door with her hip, she peeked inside. Her eyes went wide with amazement, for the enormous tub she’d discovered the day he’d returned to the ranch was full of water and steam rose from it like fog.

She eased around the door and pushed it shut with her foot.

Corey clapped his hands gleefully, then pointed at the tub. “Water, Mama.”

His excitement was infectious. Susannah grinned at him and gave him a squeeze. As she drew closer to the tub, she felt the warmth radiating from the water.

“Is the little whistler man ready for a swim?”

Susannah jumped at the sound of Nathan’s voice; she hadn’t seen him on his knees beside one of the pumps.

“Corey swim!” He clapped again and wiggled in Susannah’s arms.

Nathan stood, sweat glistening off his bare torso, tunneling through the hair, soaking the fur that surrounded his navel. Her heart drummed, her pulse dispatched flashes of memory to her brain. She studied every tightly honed muscle, remembering how they’d felt beneath her fingers. He reached up and rested the flat of his hand on the wall, and she followed the sinewy lines of his limb from his hairdusted hands to the thatch of dark hair under his arm.

A shiver stole through her and her knees felt weak.

“Like what you see?”

She pulled her gaze away, ashamed to have been caught staring.

“All right, whistler man,” Nathan said as he unbuttoned his fly, “it’s into the tub we go.”

Corey reached for Nathan, and only by sheer luck was Susannah able to hang on to him. She stared, for there, right smack in front of her, Nathan slid his jeans down his hips and stepped out of them.

“Nathan!” Heat plunged deep into her belly as she belatedly averted her eyes.

“You didn’t expect us to take a bath with our clothes on, did you?”

He stood before her, tall, strong, beautiful and very naked. The heat she’d felt when she stepped into the room intensified, and she knew it wasn’t coming from the water.

“Come on, Corey,” he said, lifting him from Susannah’s arms. Susannah stood, a bit dumbstruck, as Nathan undressed him. Like the brazen hussy he thought she was, she stared at him, at his groin. Though somewhat limp, he was not small. The place between her legs tingled.

As he took the steps to the landing on the edge of the tub, his manhood twitched, jutting out slightly from his bush.

“I suggest you get out of here while the getting is good, Susannah,” he ordered, touching himself. “As you can see, the chap hasn’t performed much lately but he has a damned good memory.”

Embarrassment and desire swarmed through her like a thousand hungry bees. She struggled to get to the door, but even then, she had to have one last peek. She hadn’t realized that he’d stopped on the platform and was staring at her.

He stepped into the water with Corey in his arms. “Come and get him in about fifteen minutes.” His voice told her he was in control.

Swallowing a chaotic knot of emotions, she nodded, unaware that she’d been salivating. “I’m sorry, I . . . I . . . I . . . yes, I . . . will.”

She stepped outside and leaned against the closed door, her heart bounding against her ribs and her emotions scattering like seeds in a whirlwind.

Unable to get the picture of him out of her mind, she hurried to the house and tried to immerse herself in her quilting. But her hands shook so badly, she quit after she’d pricked herself for the dozenth time with her quilting needle. Louisa walked by at one point and asked her a question, but she wasn’t listening. Nevertheless, she nodded, which apparently was the proper response, for Louisa went on by. When she finally glanced at the clock that sat on the mantel, she realized she’d been sitting in a fog for nearly an hour.

She sprang up and hurried to the front door.

Louisa came out of her quarters, tying the sash of her robe around her waist. “Where you goin’, Honeybelle?”

“I . . . I have to get Corey. I . . . it’s past time—”

“What you sayin’? The li’l man’s already in bed.”

Susannah frowned. “What?”

“I asked you if I should get him, and you nodded. He’s been asleep for nigh on thirty minutes.”

Susannah felt a foolish rush of disappointment. Unconsciously she’d been anxious to have a reason to return to the shed. “I’m sorry, Louisa. I guess I was wool-gathering.”

Louisa went into the kitchen and fixed herself a cup of tea, her gaze frequently resting on Susannah. “My guess is he’s still out there, Honeybelle. I ain’t seen him come in yet.” A sly grin cracked her mouth. “I do believe he was in that tub without a stitch on, too.”

Heat rushed to Susannah’s cheeks.

Louisa’s grin widened. “He said to send you out.”

Susannah gasped. “He didn’t.”

Louisa’s face was a mask of mock insult. “Would I lie, Honeybelle?”

Susannah eyed the door. “Well, I guess I should thank him for bathing Corey.”

“Yes, Honeybelle. You do that.”

Ignoring Louisa’s wry comment, Susannah pulled on her cape and stepped outside. The night air was crisp and cold. Since she’d been there she’d smelled winter in the air, but it never seemed to arrive.

She marched resolutely to the shed, stopping to take in a quick breath before she opened the door. When she did, she felt another stab of disappointment. The room was empty.

She stepped inside. “Nathan?” When he didn’t answer, she strolled to the tub, noting that it was still full. It looked inviting. She shoved up the sleeve of her dress and dipped her hand into the water, swallowing a pleasure-filled groan.

A cold gust of air hit her, and she turned as Nathan entered. Like a guilty child caught with her fingers in the cookie dough, she quickly stepped away from the tub.

“I thought you might enjoy a nice warm bath,” he announced.

She felt a frustrating urge to scream; he was fully dressed. “That . . . that was very thoughtful of you.”

He crossed to the wall behind her. “There are towels here, and soap.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I’d join you, but I’m already as wrinkled as a prune.”

Why was he being so accommodating? “Thank you,” she said graciously. Before he got to the door, she asked, “Why did you build such an enormous tub, Nathan?”

His smile was brief. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

She watched him leave, then picked up a towel and soap and put them on the ledge. She undressed quickly, staying near the tub to keep warm. After uncoiling her hair, she pinned it to the top of her head with a single pin, then climbed the short ladder to the ledge. Feeling the chill in the room, she stepped into the warm water. She sat on the outcropping he’d built partway down the wall, leaned against the side, and briefly closed her eyes. The water caressed her and she expelled a long, luxurious sigh.

Hanging onto the shelf he’d built, she floated, letting the water buoy her. She kicked her legs, scissoring them back and forth, loving the feel of the water as it pressed against the tender place at the top of her thighs.

She was floating sideways when a jetting stream of warm water shot against her there, and she gasped at the exquisite sensation. Lest she enjoy it too much, she hauled herself to the ledge, pressing her thighs together to prevent further temptation.

With a grim smile, she twisted on the seat and reached for the soap. Her hand stopped midair, for her gaze met Nathan’s, who stood near the pipes.

He gave her a rather lascivious smile. “I thought you might need more warm water.”

She knew she blushed, but her face was hot from the water anyway, so perhaps he didn’t notice. Forgetting the soap, she crossed her arms over her bosom. “What are you doing here?” She’d intended to sound indignant. Her words didn’t come out that way.

He stepped to the side of the tub. He wasn’t smiling, and his expression was hot, blatant and sexual, but his eyes held a tenderness she hadn’t seen since he’d left her in Angel’s Valley. “I couldn’t stay away.”

A
nd he couldn’t. Under the guise of giving her more hot water, he’d come back into the shed when he was sure she was in the tub. Her torso had floated just beneath the surface, her pink nipples, tightened into pearls, poked through the water, the triangle at the joining of her thighs a perfect shade of rusty brown. Hips sweetly rounded, tempting. Legs long and shapely. Desire, thick and hard, had pounded through him.

Now, she had an innocent wide-eyed appearance, her hair perched slightly to one side on top of her head, wet tendrils clinging to her neck and shoulders. She modestly tried to hide her firm, ample bosom from his gaze.

“You’re shivering,” he announced.

She stared at the water. “You . . . you make me nervous.”

“There’s fire in you, Susannah. I want you so damned bad that my tongue aches.” He stepped close to the tub and studied her over the side. The words “good enough to eat” entered his mind.

“That’s . . . that’s not very flattering.” Her voice shook as she spoke.

He fed on her innocent discomfort. “Ah, but you have no idea what feats of pleasure I can perform with my tongue.”

Color spread across her chest, over the breasts she tried so valiantly to hide from his view. “Why are you saying these things, Nathan? I’m not a whore, I’m
not
—”

“I’d never talk to a whore the way I’m talking to you.”

She tossed him a rosy glance. “You wouldn’t?”

The hope in her eyes touched something inside him. “No. I wouldn’t waste my time.”

He reached into the water, scooping it toward her with his hand. “I thought you might like to know that Jackson called me ‘Pa’ earlier today.”

“Oh, Nathan, that’s wonderful.” Her gaze was warm as it clung to his. Tears of happiness shimmered in her eyes.

“I also had a long, very important talk with Louisa this afternoon.”

She swirled her slender foot in the water. “About me, I assume.”

“Yes, about you. Susannah, I hardly know where to begin. I’ve been a selfish, distrustful bastard. I want you to forgive me, if you can.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then said, “All of this came about because of your talk with Louisa?”

“No,” he admitted. “Actually, I’ve hated myself since the moment I started demanding answers to questions that weren’t my business to ask.”

“You hurt me, Nathan. Your deception, your lack of trust, your anger . . . Through it all, though, I couldn’t stop loving you. I wanted to, but my heart wouldn’t let me.”

“Ah, Susannah,” he whispered. They were quiet for a moment, but it was a comfortable silence. Finally, he said, “I want you to do something for me, for both of us.”

She was wary. “What?”

His gaze rested on her triangle, the hair waving slightly as the water caressed it. His mouth went dry.

“Touch yourself.”

She gasped, shooting him an angry look as she gathered herself in her arms and crossed her legs to close herself in. “I said I’m no whore, Nathan Wolfe.”

What he’d learned from Louisa humbled him. He felt remorse. “I know that, sweetheart,” he said softly, claiming her gaze. “But learning about your body by touching it doesn’t make you a whore.”

“It . . . it doesn’t?” She unfolded slightly but still covered herself.

“I’m sorry for every awful thing I’ve ever said to you. And you were right. I used analogies to suit me.”

“Analogies?” She unfolded a bit more, yet still held her arms against her breasts.

He smiled at her innocence. “Comparisons between you and your mother, and you and your son.”

“Oh,” she whispered with a little nod.

“Touch yourself, Susannah.”

“No! Oh, Nathan, I . . . I’ve never . . . I mean, I can’t . . . I mean, it’s not right—”

“Specifically, who told you such a thing?” he interrupted.

She ducked her head and studied the water. “Well . . . um . . . everyone, I guess.”

“Ma Walker?”

Her head shot up, her eyes filled with surprise. “How . . . how did you know?”

“I guessed as much after my talk with Louisa.” He gave her a warm, encouraging smile.

Chewing on her lower lips, Susannah studied the water again. “From . . . from the time I moved there, she . . . she preached at me. When she wasn’t scolding me or slapping me for not doing things the way she wanted them, she was lecturing me on the sins of the flesh, telling me my looks were a curse from the devil.

“As I got older, she . . . she warned me to stay away from her boys.” She shuddered, her mouth pinched with distaste. “I didn’t want them to touch me, Nathan, I
didn’t
. And I never
ever
made them think otherwise. But . . . but she just wouldn’t stop talking about things like that. And, she said that if I ever did anything sinful like . . . like touch myself, I’d be punished. I’d go straight to hell.”

Pity dug deep into Nate’s gut. “Do you still believe that?”

With another shy duck of her head she answered, “I don’t know. I’m . . . I’m not sure.”

“But I touched you there, Susannah. Did it feel wrong to you?”

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. “Oh, no. No, no. It—” She caught her full bottom lip between her teeth again. “It felt wonderful.”

Heat scorched him, thickening his blood. “Then why is it wrong to touch yourself?”

“I . . . I guess it shouldn’t be, but . . .” She closed her eyes briefly and gave him a nervous laugh. “I just can’t imagine doing such a thing, Nathan. Now that I think about it, it’s . . . it’s just so silly.”

At least she wasn’t angry or upset. “Just this once, Susannah. Feel your body. Get to know it. Run your hands over it; touch places you’ve never touched before.”

She laughed again, that nervous, anxious sound. “Oh, Nathan, I couldn’t—”

“Try. For me. Please.”

She swallowed and closed her eyes again. Slowly she brought her hands to her breasts, tentatively touching them.

“Touch your nipples, Susannah,” he instructed, feeling the stricture at his groin.

Her fingers grazed them and she let out a little gasp, her head moving to expose the exquisite, white expanse of her neck.

He longed to bury his face there, kiss her skin, lick off the water. He forced down his hunger but he started to undress.

“Oh,” she whispered, “when . . . when I touch them I can feel it down . . . down between my legs.” She gasped again, and a delicate shudder quivered through her body.

Nate gripped the side of the tub, feeling his control slipping. He was hard as a board.

Her eyes were closed as she moved one hand down over her navel, then to the top of her mound. She fluffed the hair with her fingers, hesitating at the entrance.

He swallowed hard. “Spread your legs, Susannah. Let—” He swallowed again, forcing control. “Let the water caress you.”

“It . . . it did before,” she said on a husky breath. “A stream of warm water t-touched me there.”

“And how did it feel?”

“It . . . it felt good, Nathan. Too good.” Her fingers were still poised over her opening.

“Let yourself go, Susannah. Don’t think. Just feel.”

She kept her eyes closed. He was certain it was in self-defense. As she pressed one finger inside, she inhaled sharply but didn’t remove her hand.

Slowly she began to stroke herself. Her legs floated akimbo in the water as her body relaxed. Her sweet mouth was open slightly, her breath quick and uneven as lust swept through her. Suddenly she stiffened and groaned, trapping her hand between her legs.

Nathan shed the remainder of his clothes and climbed into the tub, grasping her from behind before her head went under the water. She clamored into his arms, hugging him tightly.

He stroked her warm, wet flesh, her beauty testing his restraint. “Now,” he whispered against her hair. “Was that so bad?”

She gave him a nervous, breathy laugh. “No, but . . . but, Nathan?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’d rather we did it together,” she answered, taking his earlobe into her mouth and sucking on it.

He groaned and lifted her over him as he sat on the ledge. Clamping her legs around him, she shuddered fiercely as she gathered him inside her. He mouthed her breasts, sucked her nipples and knew he would spend. And he did.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, holding her close.

“Don’t be sorry, Nathan,” she answered with a lazy, satisfied smile. “We’ll just have to do it again.”

She unpinned her hair and ducked under the water to wet it completely. “Hand me the soap, would you?”

He brought her between his legs and washed her hair, occasionally dipping down to caress her breasts with soapy hands. She pulled away long enough to rinse her hair, then he tugged her back against him.

“I’m not done bathing you,” he growled into her ear, “but you’ll have to turn around.” She relaxed against him, her head lolling against his shoulder.

“Must I?”

“If I’m going to wash you, yes, you must.” His blood ran thick again, his groin heavy.

She turned to face him, her knees on either side of him, her pelvis out of the water.

Swallowing a groan, he soaped his hands then stroked her thighs with his thumbs. Her head lolled again, exposing her neck, and she gripped his shoulders.

He worked his way to her delta, skirting her engorged center, concentrating on the dense patch of hair that covered her.

“You have a birthmark,” he observed, leaning forward to kiss the crescent shaped mark just above her pubic hair while his fingers continued to move upward, inside her thighs.

She inhaled sharply and pressed forward, trying to reach his fingers, but he teased her, drawing out her desire, not wanting it to end, for watching her gave him nearly as much pleasure as touching her.

“Damn you, Nathan Wolfe,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

He touched her then, his lathered fingers creating soapy bubbles that clung to her. He felt her knees shake so he slipped off the ledge, pulling her onto him again and they floated as one in the water.

She squirmed against him, anxious for him to finish what he began.

“Patience, love,” he whispered as he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss began tentatively, as if each were afraid that anything deeper would send them over the edge. But soon it became wet, slick, tongue against tongue.

Nate felt a stronger desire building inside him than he’d ever felt before. He gripped her buttocks, pressing her hard against him, and thrust deep, rocking against her until they both cried out their release.

Susannah stood by the tub, unable to keep from touching Nathan as he rubbed her dry. When he finished and was drying his hair, she tugged the towel from him.

“My turn,” she said, still feeling a little shy. She dried the hair on his chest, dragging the towel down over his stomach to his groin, where she made a special attempt at getting him dry. He grew at her ministering.

“I’ll give you an hour to stop that.” He smiled the lopsided smile she’d grown to love.

She blushed, remembering that he’d said that to her once before. “I was just trying to dry you off.”

His grin widened. “And I was just trying to wash you when I touched you in the tub.”

Her blush deepened and she felt it heat her scalp. “All right. So I wanted to touch you.”

He tossed her the clothes she’d worn and she stepped into them, a bit reluctantly. While he dressed, she asked, “Why did you build this tub, Nathan?”

He buttoned his fly, but couldn’t hide the fact that he was hard again. “I built it for Judith. She wasn’t well, Susannah. She never had been. She had arthritis, her joints swelled painfully. The warm water seemed to give her some relief.”

Susannah attempted to remove more water from her hair, rubbing it gently with the towel. “You were very sweet to think of it, Nathan. You . . . you must have loved her very much.” Thoughts of the dead woman summoned a bevy of feelings inside her.

“I loved her in a very special way, Susannah. She shouldn’t have had a child; the doctor warned both of us that she wasn’t strong enough to carry one.”

“But . . . but she had one anyway.”

He combed his hands through his hair. “Yeah. I didn’t want her to get pregnant but she—” He exhaled, cursing as he did so. “She wanted to give me a son.”

The knife of envy went deeper. “She must have loved you very much to risk her life for you.”

He strode to the mechanisms on the far wall and twisted a knob. She heard the water escaping through a pipe under the floor.

“Yeah,” he answered, “she loved me more than I deserved to be loved.”

“Oh, Nathan, don’t say that.” When he returned to her side, she touched his shoulder, rubbing her palm against his arm. “You’re beginning to sound like me,” she chided, giving him a scolding smile.

He pulled her into his arms. “Do you think you’ve forgiven me enough to marry me?”

The question came out of nowhere. She opened her mouth then shut it, swallowing the threat of tears. “You . . . want to marry me? Why?”

He ran his thumb over her lower lip, then to her chin. “After what we’ve just done, you have to ask me that?”

Sex was one thing; love was another. Bolstering her courage, she said, “Yes, I have to ask you that.”

Inhaling deeply, he studied her, his eyes warm. “It’s more than what we’ve just done, Susannah, although I admit that if I live to be ninety, I’ll never get enough of you that way. I’m as randy as a billy goat already.”

He just wants me in his bed
. “And?” she asked, hoping she was able to keep her feelings hidden.

He touched her hair, lowering his hand to the wet curl that rested over her shoulder. Her breast tightened, pebbling the nipple. “And you’re beautiful and warm . . . and you make me want to smile and laugh again.”

Through me, he wants to try to forget Judith
. “Anything else?” she managed to ask.

He kissed her forehead, a fatherly gesture that puzzled her. “And I want to make a home for you and Corey here, with me and Jackson.”

He wants me as a buffer between him and his son
. “I can live with that,” she answered, forcing a brightness into her voice, “but . . . but is there any other reason at all?”