LoverforRansom (14 page)

While she still floated, he thrust inside her, taking his
time.

Afterward, she dozed off in his arms and didn’t awaken until
the rooster crowed.

* * * * *

Ransom’s eyes opened and sleepily, he realized Cathleen lay
naked and tangled in his arms. Outside, the rooster heralded the dawn. The
whole house would be coming to life in minutes—but Ransom didn’t want to let
her go just yet.

When he brushed her hair off her face, she opened her eyes.
She gazed at him for a moment and shock seized her features. “What time is it?
How long have I been asleep?”

“It’s morning,” he said, and as if to punctuate his
statement, the rooster crowed again.

“Dear Lord,” she muttered and sat. “I have to get back.”

“Stay,” he urged.

Her eyes searched his. “Do you really think we should get
caught up in this? That we should risk everything for…for sex?”

He stared, unable to think of anything to say. He didn’t
like this pain that flared up in his chest.

“What would Jenny think? And Aunt Chloe? I couldn’t bear her
reproach,” Cathleen said as she flung back the covers and searched frantically
for her nightgown.

She found it and let it unfurl, only to discover a telltale
bloodstain on the back.

Guilt swamped Ransom at how carelessly he’d taken her
virginity. “Cathleen…”

“What’s done is done,” she said matter-of-factly. “But I
don’t know how I’ll ever get this stain out.”

He peeled back the covers and went to her. She didn’t resist
when he dragged her into his arms. “I…spoiled you.”

“Spoiled? You hardly sp—”

He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “Don’t you ever
stop talking?” he asked with a smile.

The morning light glittered in her black eyes and, holding
his gaze, she kissed his fingertip.

“I spoiled you. I’m sorry. I’ll speak to the parson about
marrying us as soon as possible.” His heart began to pound. All his adult life,
he’d avoided this very thing and now he thought it would crush him if she
refused.

He didn’t know when his attitude had changed. Perhaps it was
his excuse to remain at Byrne’s End. Maybe it was the idea of ever being
separated from this woman again. He didn’t know and wasn’t sure. Confusion
racked him.

Her eyes widened. All her earlier flirtatiousness faded. She
studied him and he struggled to stay silent, to give her a chance to respond.
After several seconds, she jerked free of his embrace and brandished the
stained nightrail. “Because of this?” She shook it at him like a fist before
she whirled and then pulled the garment on over her head.

Her entire body trembled. “I thought we discussed that,” she
said, her voice wavering. “You don’t want to get married. Especially not to a
plain
mouse
such as I.”

“Cathleen, I only said those things to Harriet because
I—well, because I’m an ass. She was getting ideas about marriage and—”

She spun to face him. “Oh. I see. So you can dally with
her.” She waved her arms at the word
dally
. “But you won’t marry her
because you don’t
owe
it to her. You didn’t
take
her virginity.
I’ve got news for you. You didn’t
take
mine either. I gave it to you
because I wanted to.”

“Cathleen…”

“We’ve taken this thing too far.”

“But you wanted—”

She stood, fists clenched at her sides. Moisture rimmed her
eyes. “I know what I wanted in the heat of passion. I was clearly not considering
the possibilities.”

Ransom stared. Something was wrong. Something had changed
between them. And though his heart ached, concern for what he’d done or said to
upset her rose to the forefront.

“I won’t bring it up again,” he said and reached for his
coat. “At least let me walk with you back to the big house.”

He slipped his frock coat around her shoulders to hide the
stain on her gown. He pulled on his trousers, shoved his feet into his boots,
donned a shirt and then accompanied her outside.

No lights shone in the house yet. Disappointment twisted
inside him. A part of him hoped they’d be found out. Maybe then she’d come to
her senses and allow him to marry her. But even if they were caught, he doubted
she’d succumb to societal pressures.

Red hues of dawn peeped over the horizon, portending an
impending storm.

Head down, she walked fast and he took long strides to keep
up with her pace. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she turned and
offered her hand as if they’d just completed a business transaction.

Ransom snarled. Her refusal should have infuriated him.
Instead, he found it irresistibly arousing. “Get up those stairs.”

She blinked and then quietly hurried up the stairs to the
room. He followed.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I’ll be damned if we’re going to
stop
,” he ground
out and hauled her into his arms to kiss her.

Her struggles only caused him to hold tighter. He thrust his
tongue between her lips, forcing her to respond. Her soft protests turned to
whimpers and triumph blazed through him when she helped him drag up the hem of
her nightgown.

He reached between her legs. She was wet. Good. “Bend over,”
he commanded.

She obeyed and bent over the side of the bed. Ransom freed
his erection, raked the head through her folds and then thrust inside her damp
heat. Pleasure racked him. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her bottom
and held still. Why couldn’t he get enough of her?

“Touch yourself,” he whispered. “I want to feel you come on
my cock.”

Her hand flew downward and he felt the circular pressure of
her fingertips as he began to drive into her from behind. His sac swung against
her. A wild sense of possessiveness consumed him as he gazed down at her, still
dressed in his frock coat, her hair loose and tumbling over the bedclothes.

He bent and brushed her hand away as he took control of her
pleasure with his own fingers. Eyes squeezed shut, she bit the quilt to muffle
her moans. Her channel contracted around him and her body grew stiff. She was
beautiful in the throes of ecstasy. Beautiful.

Once she was sated, he withdrew and finished himself until
he’d spent his seed in the crease of her buttocks. Afterward, he braced both
hands on either side of her head and bent to whisper in her ear. “As long as
you’re at Byrne’s End, you’re mine, Cathleen Ryan. Do you hear me? Mine.”

Eyes still closed, she gave him a little nod.

He nuzzled her ear, breathed in the scent of her, kissed her
temple and then left.

Still trembling, Cathleen pushed herself up. Her body hummed
with the lingering intensity of her orgasm. She bit the back of her index
finger to keep from bursting into tears. Ransom had uttered the words she’d
most wanted to hear from him.

I’ll speak to the parson about marrying us as soon as
possible.

A sob tore from her throat. She could have said yes. She
almost had. But the truth had inundated her—devastated her. He would only be
marrying her out of his sense of honor, of guilt.

As much as she loved him, she couldn’t do that to him. She
couldn’t awaken in his bed and watch as resentment grew. He, himself, was a
self-avowed philanderer. How would she feel when he took a lover? When he
returned to the bed of that harridan, the Widow Bostick?

She’d tried to distance herself, to stop this thing they
shared, but one kiss, one command, had her bent and spread to take his cock.

She couldn’t continue this. Her heart couldn’t stand it.

Her gaze fell on the pamphlets she’d brought. That was it.
She’d devote all her free time to teaching those former slaves. They needed
her. It’d keep her busy and keep her mind off Ransom Byrne—at least until he
left to go out west.

Resolved, she shrugged off his frock coat. Before she laid
it on the bed, she brought it to her face where she breathed in the masculine
scent of him. She closed her eyes, recalling every kiss, every caress, the way
his body molded to hers—claimed hers.

She’d never dreamed her body was capable of experiencing
such pleasure.

What if he could grow to love me? What if…

No! That sort of thinking had reduced her to becoming one of
those sniveling lovesick fools she so detested. She just had to keep her wits
about her. That’s all there was to it.

* * * * *

Ransom checked the time on his pocket watch. “By God,
there’s none can beat Vandal in the state!” His smile stretched so wide it
hurt. He’d forgotten the thrill of a fast horse.

Father clapped him on the back. “Morris has done a fine job
with him.”

Ransom leaned on the railing surrounding their practice
track and watched the muscular thoroughbred slow to a canter. “I think he may
be a more formidable racer than Asteroid.”

Father nodded. “You chose well when you bought that foal
sired by Glencoe. She’s produced many a fine horse here at Byrne’s End. You
have a good eye for horseflesh, son.”

Ransom tamped down the self-reproach eating at him. His
father wouldn’t approve of his plan to leave. Who would run the farm? Morris?
That was all good and well, but what would happen when Father was too old?
Morris was a fine trainer, but he didn’t possess the intuitive eye for a
promising trotter that Ransom had.

“I’m a little surprised that Aunt Chloe has taken to that
Yankee schoolteacher the way she has,” Father said, his gaze trained over his
shoulder.

Ransom peered in the same direction to discover Aunt Chloe
walking into the woods along with Cathleen.

“Where on earth—”

“Excuse me,” Ransom said, intent on chasing them down and
demanding to know where they were headed. And why.

Cathleen would refuse to tell him, especially with Aunt
Chloe to back her. Besides, he knew exactly where they were going—to that
shanty town.

He shook his head. That wily Yankee had somehow persuaded
Aunt Chloe to help her teach those freedmen and their families.

Ransom strode along the fence toward where their hand, Jeff,
helped Morris wheel a sulky with a broken wheel back toward the barn for
repair.

He had another job in mind for Jeff.

Cathleen and Aunt Chloe had been teaching the freedmen
families once a week for the better part of two months. Cathleen had hoped
staying busy would keep her mind off Ransom. She’d expected time to lessen the
heartache she felt every time she was in his presence.

It hadn’t.

Since the ball at Rippavilla, though, he’d changed. He
seemed tense. Harder than before. Sulkier than before.

No one else, it seemed, had noticed. Jenny spent most of her
free time with Andy. He accompanied her to all the church meetings and came
nearly every day to sit with her or walk with her.

Sally had begun setting a place for him at the table and
Cathleen had included him in the instruction of anticipating the special needs
of a sightless person.

All her nights were spent with Ransom and even though they
never discussed the idea of marriage again, the concept loomed in the room like
a ghost. He took great care not to spill his seed inside her but in truth, Cathleen
would not have been disappointed if she’d found herself with child. In fact,
she would have been delighted and had begun imagining what it would be like to
have a family—a family with Ransom.

Summer’s oppressive heat had given way to autumn’s chill and
Cathleen enjoyed spending her Sunday afternoons walking amidst the brightly
colored trees.

Jenny’s dog trotted past her and headed for the stable.

“Come back here, you!” she called, but the mongrel paid her
no heed. Morris Hunt was worse than Aunt Chloe about the dog being in
his
stable, upsetting the horses.

Gathering her skirts, she trudged up the hill to the stable
and stopped in the doorway to whistle for the dog. “Come out of there, you
rascal!”

“Rascal is it?” Ransom’s voice came from the shadows.

Cathleen’s stomach tightened when he stepped into view. “I…I
was looking for Jenny’s dog. I thought you’d gone to Spring Hill with the
others.”

He shook his head. The look in his eyes sparked indecent
sensations between Cathleen’s thighs.

A horse let out a high-pitched whinny that startled her. She
gasped and her hand flew to her chest. Ransom chuckled. “Your old friend String
Bean seems happy to see you.”

Cathleen smiled. “I doubt that.”

“You’ve never been in here before, have you?” he asked.

“No,” she said, wondering why she’d never ventured into this
place. Now she understood why Ransom smelled like leather and horses. The
stable practically swirled with his essence. It was as much a part of him as
his drawl, his black wavy hair and his silver eyes.

She took two steps toward him.

“Come in,” he coaxed, motioning for her. “Let me show you
around.”

Her shoes crunched the hay strewn over the cobblestone
floor. At least eight horses eyed her over the tops of their shiny black doors.
She’d never dreamed a horse stable would be so neat. “I must say, these horses
seem quite pampered.”

Ransom chuckled. “These are some of the finest horses in the
South. In the world, for that matter. And since so many breeders’ animals were
pressed into service, people will come from all over to buy, breed and trade.”
He rubbed the nose of a black horse with a white star between its big round
eyes.

Cathleen clasped her hands behind her back. “With business
so promising, why ever would you leave?”

Ransom eyed her.

She shouldn’t have brought it up. But now that she had… “The
Widow Bostick told me of your plans to move west.”

His expression turned grim. “I see. Have you mentioned this
to Sissy or Jenny?”

“No.”

“Don’t.”

Cathleen bit her bottom lip. She wanted to beg him not to
go, but her sanity depended on him leaving. She certainly wasn’t going to leave
Jenny—or the school she’d started for the freedmen families.

“So it’s true, then? You’re leaving?”

He nodded.

“When?”

He shrugged and looked at the horse, which lifted its head
to nuzzle Ransom’s face.

“Are you leaving because of me?” she asked.

His gaze flicked to hers. “No.”

She stepped closer and put her hand on his arm. “Because of
what happened to Jenny?”

“I can never forgive myself,” he muttered.

Cathleen’s heart twisted. “I’m sorry I said anything. It’s
none of my concern.”

He pinned her with a hard look. “Isn’t it?”

She searched his eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “Dammit, Cathleen.” He
drew her into an embrace. “One word from you and I’ll stay here forever.”

Her heart ran wild. She couldn’t swallow. “Y-you’re
con-confusing me,” she stammered.

His fingers burrowed in the bun at the nape of her neck.
Hairpins scattered and her locks tumbled loose. “I want to confuse you,” he
murmured. “I want to touch you and taste you until you die in my arms.”

Heat raced up her spine. If she stayed here like this with
him any longer, she’d consent to anything he suggested. Panic blossomed and she
struggled to free herself.

It was no use.

His hold on her was too tight. Too demanding. He dragged her
into a tack room and began working the buttons of his fly with one hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her gaze darting around as
if someone might see them.

“I want you.”

“Here? Now?”

His cock sprang free as he pinned her against the wall.

“Ransom, we can’t—” she began, even as he wrenched up the
front of her skirt. Her resolve wavered when his fingers searched between her
legs.

“God, you’re wet,” he whispered in her ear. “So wet for me,
darlin’…”

She felt as if she were on a slippery slope, and instead of
helping her to safety, Ransom was careening over the edge with her.

She clung to him as he plunged into her. Why couldn’t she
deny him? And why on earth couldn’t she consent to his pleas to marry her? She
wanted it more than anything in the world.

And yet…

Ransom was bound by honor. By duty. He would always do what
he felt was right and proper—even at the expense of his own happiness. Cathleen
knew. Because she was cut from the same cloth.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the hot tears that seeped
through her lashes and streamed down her cheeks as a physical pleasure every
bit as intense as her emotional turmoil consumed her.

* * * * *

“What are you plannin’ on doin’ about Mistuh Ransom?” Aunt
Chloe asked, waddling alongside Cathleen toward the shanty town.

Heat flourished in her cheeks at the mention of Ransom’s
name. “What do you mean?”

Chloe let out a laugh. “I think you is more blind than you
lets on.”

Cathleen gulped.

Chloe cut her gaze sideways at Cathleen and grinned. “I know
you two has been skulkin’ around at night.”

Cathleen’s lips parted. She started to protest, but knew
it’d be no use. Nothing escaped Chloe.

“How come you two ain’t gone to see the parson?”

Cathleen cleared her throat and hugged her books closer.
“I…I’m not sure I want to marry. Besides…Mr. Byrne is not the sort of man who
wants to settle down with one woman.”

“You’re wrong about that. He just ain’t found the right
woman. Until now.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Aunt Chloe, but—”

“Ain’t no buts,” Chloe interjected. “He’s in love with you.
It’s plain to see. Do the right thing and marry that boy.”

“Lookie there.” A familiar male voice startled Cathleen. “I
didn’t know Yankee gals went walkin’ with their mammies.”

Cathleen recognized his gaunt face at once. He was one of
the night riders who’d come to Byrne’s End. Greasy brown hair seemed to slither
from beneath his slouch hat. The strands clung to his forehead. Her insides
jellied at the sight of the whip coiled at his side.

Aunt Chloe took a step backward, but a second man stepped
from the woods, effectively preventing their escape.

Armed with a plank, the man behind them looked no more
friendly than the other. A black, grizzled beard dominated his weathered face.
He sneered, revealing a set of rotted, yellowed teeth.

“Where do y’all think you’re goin’?” he asked.

“You trash go on back down to Columbia. You ain’t got no
business around here,” Chloe blustered.

“See? That’s where you’re wrong,” the one with the whip
said, coming closer.

Cathleen’s nose crinkled when she caught a whiff of his
unwashed body and filthy clothes.

“What you got there?” he demanded, snatching the books and
slate from Cathleen’s hands.

Her heart began to pound with a mixture of terror and anger
as he flipped through her things and then dashed them to the ground. She might
could make a run for it, but Chloe was so old and slow; she’d never get away
and Cathleen wasn’t about to leave her behind. Neither was it in her nature to
kowtow to ruffians. Straightening, she started to step past him to collect her
books.

She didn’t expect to be slammed face first into the leaves.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Pain shot through her
hands and knees. Chloe protested and the man with the black beard swung the
plank. Wood and Chloe’s knee made sickening cracking sounds.

“Stop!” Cathleen yelled, seizing one of her books and
hurling it at the one with the whip.

It caught him on the side of the head and rather than stop
him, it only infuriated him further.

White-hot pain shot through one shoulder when he grabbed her
arm and hauled her to her feet.

“We gon’ show you what happens to them that thinks…”

The man continued his heap of insults, using the foulest
language Cathleen had ever heard. But his words landed on deaf ears. As he dragged
her forcibly toward the shanty town, she struggled and called out to Chloe,
who’d fallen and didn’t appear to be moving.

Cathleen’s throat burned from her screams. Adrenaline pumped
furiously, overriding her own pain, until she realized there were more riders
at the clearing. She was no match for their strength as two of them pushed her
face-first against the wooden post of the clothesline and bound her wrists.

The one with the whip pressed against her back and Cathleen
felt something cold against her cheek. She shook as she realized he’d drawn a
knife.

“If you’uz a mite prettier, I’d cut that face up for ye,” he
threatened.

Cathleen gritted her teeth to keep from arguing. Reason
would not work with these outlaws. Bile rose in her throat and she suppressed a
gag. The men and women she and Chloe had been teaching stood helplessly by. One
of the men she’d come to know as Wilbur already had horrible bruising around
one eye and blood caked on his bottom lip.

The riders had beaten him. For wanting to learn. Outrage
flared and Cathleen kicked at the man behind her. The ropes they’d used to tie
her wrists burned as she struggled.

“Quit yer tusslin’, hellcat, or we’ll drag you back to that
big fancy house by the neck,” he said and put the knife at her back.

She expected to feel the cold blade sink between her ribs,
but instead, she heard ripping and realized he’d cut open her dress and her
petticoat to bare her back.

They were going to beat her like an animal!

The rider ran his hand up and down her spine. “Just like
silk.”

Cathleen shrugged away. “Get on with it, you son of a
bitch!” She flashed him the most spiteful look she could muster. “But you won’t
stop me, nor those like me.”

He snorted and spat before he uncoiled the whip and stepped
back.

Cathleen braced herself. She’d never been hit before, save
the times Ransom had spanked her.

This was nothing like that. Nothing.

One of the townswomen began praying aloud. Others joined in,
but Cathleen could not derive strength from it.

The man cracked the whip on the ground. Cathleen flinched as
she heard the leather whistling through the air—and then felt the searing bite
tear through her skin.

She’d resolved not to make a sound but she couldn’t keep
from releasing a wail that sounded like a wounded animal.

“You still think you want to learn these shitasses to read?”
the man taunted.

Yes.
“Yes…”

The whip sailed through the air again…

But this time, the crack Cathleen heard was a shot.

Through her tears, she lifted her gaze and the last thing
she saw before she collapsed was Ransom, leading a charge of horsemen up the
trail.

* * * * *

Cathleen opened her eyes. She couldn’t remember how she’d
gotten here, back in her bed at Byrne’s End. She tried to move but pain
prevented it. Her back. Something had burned her.

She moaned.

A hand swept her hair away from her face. “She’s awake.
Merry, give me that laudanum. Drink this.”

“Ransom…”

“Drink.”

The mouth of a bottle touched her lips and then some of the
bitterest liquid she’d ever tasted trickled onto her tongue. She tried to pull
away, but the hand held her head in place and she had little choice but to
swallow the medicine.

“Aunt Ch—”

“Hush, love,” Ransom whispered. “Hush and try to rest.”

Heaviness replaced the pain in her back. She tried to remain
cognizant but she wanted to sleep. Just a little longer…

* * * * *

She lingered in that drugged haze for two days before she
felt well enough to refuse the laudanum. Every time she’d opened her eyes,
Ransom had been at her side.

This time was no exception.

Light spilled into the room and she guessed it was morning.
Ransom sat in the rocker beside the bed, his head lolled back, his mouth open
as he slept. Cathleen studied him, trying to recall the events of the past few
days.

The night riders had raided the shanty town. They’d hurt Aunt
Chloe and then Ransom had sailed on the town with riders of his own. The
knuckles of his right hand had been bandaged. His clothes showed signs of a
fight. Had he not changed? Had he been here all this time?