LoverforRansom (12 page)

Instinct took over and she lifted her hips, offering herself
to him. His hands moved underneath her, lifting and tilting her while he
continued to devour every juicy inch of her flesh.

She needed to get closer. She grabbed the armrest and pushed
toward him. Her heel scraped the chair’s frame as she fought for leverage on
the seat cushion.

Sensation gathered and knotted somewhere deep inside her.
She fought it, wanting this feeling to last, but when Ransom swirled his tongue
around the bud crowning her sex, she could fight it no longer.

Pleasure exploded. Her breath froze. Her mouth opened but
she couldn’t form words. The muscles in her thighs shook and pulse upon pulse
of ecstasy fired through her body. Clinging to the chair with one hand, she
tangled her fingers in his hair with the other and held his head captive. As
the initial shock of pleasure abated, she ground herself shamelessly against
his face, taking all he had to offer, milking his kisses for the last vestiges
of bliss.

Sudden exhaustion consumed her and she wilted into the
chair. She became vaguely aware of the sound of his boots as he walked out of
the room. She should go to him, offer him pleasure in return.

Offer him herself.

“Ransom,” she managed, her throat dry.

“Go back to the big house.”

Her eyes snapped open and she sat upright. “I don’t want
to.”

He stood in the doorway to his bedroom, his figure a dark
silhouette against the moonlight spilling in the window behind him.

Cathleen gained her feet and started toward him. “I don’t
want to leave. Not yet.”

He leaned on the doorframe and stared at the floor. “It’s
best if you go.”

“But what about—”

“I said,
go
.”

Cathleen smoothed her skirts and her hair. Hot tears stung
her eyes and she blinked, refusing to let them fall. Why was she on the verge
of weeping? She’d received what she’d wanted and now he was releasing her. Some
part of her ached to buck him, to reject his request and willingly submit to
the consequences, but something else told her he needed to be alone.

He suddenly seemed confused.

Tension hung thickly between them and Cathleen didn’t know
what to say or do—besides what he’d asked.

“Thank you, Ransom, for pleasuring me,” she whispered and
then darted out of the house.

As soon as she left, Ransom leaned against his bedroom wall,
undid the buttons of his breeches and grasped his cock. Visions of plunging it
into her softness filled his head. He could still taste her. Warm. Sweet.
Feminine.

It only took four firm strokes. He erupted and felt the ooze
seeping over his hand, but this satisfaction did little to abate his desire.

He wanted Cathleen Ryan tied to his bed. He wanted to take
her every which way possible, to bend her and break her until she avowed
herself to him.

He’d become infatuated with her. Dangerously so.

The sooner he could get away from Byrne’s End, the better.

“Are you sure it looks right?” Jenny asked, running her
palms over the ruffles of her skirt.

“You look beautiful,” Cathleen said, eyeing her over the top
of her spectacles.

“You’re going to make Andy the proudest boy there,” Sissy
said.

Jenny beamed.

“She was to wear this dress to the cotillion in
Murfreesboro, but…” Sissy sighed.

“What’s done is done,” Aunt Chloe said as she fluffed the
ruffles at the shoulders. “I still say well raised ladies don’t show that much
bosom.”

Jenny’s hand went to the ivory skin of her chest. She
certainly looked womanly in the lemon-colored ball gown, but by no means
indecent.

“Oh, pish tosh, Aunt Chloe,” Cathleen disagreed. “She looks
remarkable.”

Aunt Chloe scowled.

“I’ll let you wear my mother’s pearls,” Sissy said.

“I wish Ransom were here,” Jenny said. “He’d give me an
honest opinion about how I look.”

A sliver of guilt wound through Cathleen’s insides. If not
for her, Ransom might still be here.

The very next morning after their last encounter, he’d set
out for Nashville on some sort of horse business without saying goodbye.
According to Mr. Byrne, he intended to be gone for several days. Again.

Had she been too forward? Did he consider what she’d offered
the former slaves a breach of their agreement?

Maybe he was right.

But educating people to read not only books, but contracts
and legal dealings, was far more important than her…pleasure.

Yet, not more important than the safety of the Byrne family.

Cathleen was torn between doing what was right for those not
in a position to help themselves, and protecting the Byrnes.

“What are
you
going to wear, Miss Ryan?” Jenny’s
voice snapped Cathleen instantly out of her reverie.

“Pardon me?”

“Of course you’ll be coming with us,” Sissy said. “And you
can hardly attend a ball in that.” She gestured toward Cathleen’s black day
gown.

“I wasn’t planning on…”

“Oh, but you must come along!” Jenny cried. “Please. You
can’t make me go to my first event without you.”

Aunt Chloe harrumphed and lumbered over to the wardrobe. She
pulled out three of the frilliest, most brightly colored—most feminine—dresses
Cathleen had ever seen.

“You ain’t got no excuse,” Aunt Chloe said. “Pick one out so
we can alter it to fit you before the dance.”

Cathleen fingered the gown made of garnet satin. She bit her
bottom lip in indecision, imagining wearing such a beautiful dress. She thought
back to the day she’d danced with Ransom. Even though Jenny had been between
them, the look in his eyes had stolen her breath.

But reality crashed around her. Ransom most likely wouldn’t
make an appearance at the ball. Besides, how would anyone ever take her
seriously as an activist for women’s rights if she showed up at a ball turned
out like a self-absorbed ninny? “I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t?” Aunt Chloe’s voice boomed above Jenny and
Sissy’s protests. “You
will
. Jenny wants it.” She gathered the other two
dresses, leaving the garnet gown on the bed. “And you’ll wear that.”

“Yes,” Sissy added. “My jet brooch will look stunning with
this dress. Would you like to wear it?”

Cathleen stood dumbfounded. “I…I suppose. Yes, thank you.”
She didn’t care to admit it to herself, but she was glad Aunt Chloe hadn’t
allowed her to refuse.

“Take that thing off,” Aunt Chloe blurted, gesturing to
Cathleen’s simple day dress.

Cathleen looked back and forth at Sissy and Jenny.

“We’ll just step out,” Sissy said, taking Jenny’s hand and
leading her into the hallway.

Aunt Chloe shut the door.

Cathleen began unfastening the buttons of her bodice.

“I know what you offered them women what lives in them
shanties.” Aunt Chloe’s gaze was direct.

Guilt flared. “About that…” Cathleen began.

“They ain’t gonna be nuthin’ but suspect of a white woman.
’Specially a Yankee white woman.”

“I agree but—”

Aunt Chloe interrupted. “I’m offerin’ to help ye.”

“Help me?”

Aunt Chloe gave one firm nod of her head. “I know how to
read and write and I ain’t too bad with numbers. I
want
to help.”

Cathleen’s lips parted. “Help?” she repeated. “But I’ve
reconsidered. I don’t think I should be—”

“No, you ain’t,” Aunt Chloe said adamantly. “Don’t you let
Ransom Byrne bully you. You’re gonna teach them folks. And I’m gonna help you.”

Cathleen’s eyes misted with tears. “I would appreciate that
very much.”

“No use in gettin’ all worked up over it,” Aunt Chloe said.
“Now. Let’s see how much we gon’ have to take this dress up. Chile, you needs
to eat more.”

* * * * *

Cathleen stepped back to gaze at herself in Sissy’s
full-length mirror. She hardly recognized herself. The garnet gown made her
pale skin glow and her black hair shine. Aunt Chloe had spent over an hour
coiffing Cathleen’s hair into bouncy sausage curls that gave her severe
features a feminine softness.

The brooch had been pinned just between the breasts in such
a way as to draw attention to the copious cleavage only a tightly laced corset
could create. An eight wire hoop skirt made the bottom of the gown bell,
accentuating Cathleen’s waspish waist. She’d never realized she possessed such
a comely figure.

She felt so beautiful and desirable, she didn’t care that
such glaring femininity didn’t fit with her station as a supporter of women’s
voting rights.

As if Aunt Chloe picked up on that fact, she said, “You can
catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

Cathleen’s rouged lips drew into a smile. “Thank you. I
needed to hear that.”

Aunt Chloe only nodded and adjusted one of Cathleen’s curls.

Jenny called from the hallway. “Hurry, Miss Ryan. I don’t
want some other girl to snatch Andy out from under me.”

Cathleen laughed. But there was something she needed to do
before joining Jenny. She extended her hand to Aunt Chloe.

Aunt Chloe eyed it and then surprised Cathleen by dragging
her into a tight hug. Cathleen couldn’t draw a breath until Chloe released her.

“I’ll be ready to get that school started first thing,” the
servant said.

Cathleen nodded, then kissed Chloe on the cheek and hurried
to catch up with Jenny.

They navigated the stairs and met Sissy and Mr. Byrne on the
front porch just as the carriage rolled up and stopped.

Skirts billowed as they piled in, and once everyone was
seated, the smartly turned out coachman snapped the reins and they were off.

Sissy and Jenny talked excitedly about the opportunity to
visit with neighbors they hadn’t seen much since the war years. Mr. Byrne
remarked on new construction going up along the pike.

Cathleen’s face flamed when they passed the McKissack house
where Ransom had stolen her, taken her home and awakened her to the pleasures
of the flesh. Cathleen was loath to admit to herself that she wished he’d at
least seen her in her dress. After all, he’d only known her to wear her mourning
black—or nothing at all.

Rippavilla, the grand mansion belonging to Nathaniel Cheairs
and his wife, Susan, lay less than a mile from the McKissack home.

“Why do they call it Rippavilla?” Cathleen asked as the
carriage turned onto the long driveway leading up to the side entrance.

Mr. Byrne chuckled. “Mrs. Cheairs claims to have read about
a house in a book called
Rippavilla
and liked it so much, that’s what
she named her house. But the townsfolk say it’s because they tore it down and
rebuilt it three times before Major Cheiars was satisfied.”

“Three times?” Cathleen asked, admiring the soaring
colonnaded porticoes on the front and side of the brick house. Upper level
balconies opened over the porches, affording inhabitants a sumptuous view of
the surrounding lands. As they neared, the house loomed even larger, but not
much bigger than Byrne’s End.

“It’s solid. I’ll give him that,” Mr. Byrne said.

Candlelight gleamed from inside the open windows and doors.
Music drifted onto the lawn, and inside, couples executed a quadrille in both
the front parlors. In back, several men manned a barbeque pit and the aromas of
roasted pork filled the evening air.

“Do you see Andy?” Jenny whispered.

Cathleen craned as the carriage pulled to a halt. “There are
a hundred people here. Everyone looks wonderful. But none are as pretty as
you.”

Jenny’s face shone with expectant light.

Mr. Byrne climbed down and helped Sissy and then Jenny,
obscuring Cathleen’s view. Head down to make certain she didn’t catch her skirt
on anything, she rose and reached for the proffered gloved hand that had been
extended to help her out of the carriage.

“My, don’t you look lovely.”

Her head shot up and her gaze collided with Ransom’s.

A million thoughts raced through her head at once. He was
breathtaking in a black frock coat and a starched white shirt. Sparkling
sapphire cufflinks brought out the faint hue of blue in his ice-colored eyes.

His gaze moved over her bare chest, down to where her
cleavage blossomed over the low neckline of her gown. He drank in her
appearance as if he found her beautiful—and that look alone intoxicated
Cathleen.

Her heart fluttered. Her stomach knotted. Heat crept into
the back of her neck.

“Good evening, Miss Ryan,” he said gallantly. Rather than
take her hand and allow her to step down, he seized her around the waist and
lifted her to the ground without so much as a grimace for his effort.

Her skirt billowed as she descended, but she never
relinquished his gaze—or his arms.

“Ransom, when did you get back?” Sissy asked, breaking the
spell.

He turned. “I only just arrived.”

“Ransom!” Jenny squealed. “You must escort me inside.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Cathleen as he placed
Jenny’s hand on his arm and then guided her up the steps, where they greeted
the hosts before going into the house.

“Meet Miss Ryan,” Sissy introduced. “She has worked wonders
with our Jenny. Miss Cathleen Ryan, our hosts, Major and Mrs. Cheairs.”

From the sight of the imposing house, Cathleen had expected
a larger man, but Nathaniel Cheairs looked to weigh no more than she did,
although he was almost as tall as Mr. Byrne. The major’s dark-haired wife was
as petite as Jenny.

They politely questioned her about her teaching and Cathleen
replied, wishing she could follow Ransom inside and speak with him. She longed
to bask in that adoring gaze once more.

“Aren’t you lovely?” Mrs. Cheairs exclaimed.

“One of these Maury County boys is sure to steal her away
from you, Dan,” Major Cheairs remarked.

“Don’t I realize it, Nat!” Mr. Byrne agreed.

Cathleen smiled politely.

“Come inside,” Mrs. Cheairs said, taking her hand and
leading her into the carriage entrance.

The house glowed with the light of a hundred candles.
Servants moved seamlessly between a sea of brightly colored skirts that seemed
to float around these women like gossamer wings. Laughter filled the
high-ceilinged rooms, and in one of the parlors, a grizzled black man, clad in
a smart brown frock coat, called the moves to a Virginia reel.

Cathleen sought out Jenny, who looked fresh and pretty in
her lemon-yellow gown. Ransom stood at her side. The boy who wanted to court
her approached and Cathleen smiled as Jenny’s face colored with a soft blush.

Andy guided Jenny’s lace-gloved fingers around a cup of
punch. Ransom whispered something in her ear and then his head lifted and his
gaze swept the room.

Cathleen wondered for whom he was looking—until that
penetrating gaze stopped on her. His lips curled into a smile and he started
toward her, weaving through the crowd.

Mrs. Cheairs had disappeared into the throng of guests.

Every step that brought Ransom nearer caused Cathleen’s
heart to beat that much harder. He seemed fixed on his quarry, predatory.
Desire threaded through her and pulsed between her legs. Suddenly, the corset
seemed more confining than before. Clutching her skirts to keep her hands from
trembling, she struggled to draw a deep enough breath. Every illicit act they’d
committed flitted through her head.

“You do look remarkably lovely tonight,” he said once he was
toe to toe with her.

She considered debating him, telling him it was only Jenny’s
dress. Instead, she offered him a tiny smile.

He fingered one of the curls bobbing at her jawline. “Looks
as if you made up with Aunt Chloe.”

At that, Cathleen laughed. Ransom’s smile broadened and the sight
of those twin dimples sent something spiraling through Cathleen that made her
want to forget voting and rights and schools. That
something
struck a
chord of insecurity coupled with thrilling excitement in her heart. She didn’t
understand it.

All she knew was that she never wanted this moment—or this
enthralling feeling—to end.

In the other room, the reel ended and couples applauded.
“Choose your partners fo’ the waltz!” the sonorous voice of the dance caller
announced.

“Miss Ryan,” Ransom said with gallant bravado. “Would you
honor me by being my partner for this dance?”

This and every dance thereafter…for the rest of my life.
“Yes, of course I will,” Cathleen said, playfully mocking the Southern accent.

He chuckled and led her into the parlor.

The string quartet in the corner began the waltz with an
elaborate introduction. Couples took their places. Ransom rested his hand on
the small of her back. The heat from his touch permeated the fabric and spread
through her like wildfire. She swallowed thickly as she gathered the side of
her skirt with one hand and set the other on his shoulder.