LoverforRansom (7 page)

Cathleen folded her arms over her chest and admired them.
Ransom cut a stunning figure as he executed the steps with a grace a man his
size didn’t seem capable of possessing.

In his arms, Jenny moved like a sighted person. Realization
inundated Cathleen that Jenny’s ease stemmed from the unconditional trust she
had in her brother.

Trust like that was earned.

Sally ended the waltz with a dramatic flourish and then
whirled on the stool to face them.

Jenny’s face was flushed as she stopped moving. For the
first time since Cathleen had met him, Ransom’s smile reflected in his
ice-colored eyes. He was beautiful, though his features held none of the
prettiness of a boy. No. Ransom Byrne exuded masculinity, from the chiseled
lines of his face to his aquiline nose and the searing intensity of his eyes.
The transformation stunned her and she drew in a quick breath, which evidently
caught his attention.

His gaze found hers and lingered until a blush heated
Cathleen’s cheeks.

“Do you really think I could do it?” Jenny asked. “Could I
go to the dance…with…with Andy?”

“Of course you could,” Ransom told her.

“Oh, you must,” Cathleen added, reluctantly tearing her gaze
from Ransom. “You truly must.”

“But…what if… He hasn’t seen me like…like this.” Jenny
struggled with the words. “He doesn’t know the difficulty I face.”

“Nonsense,” Ransom said.

“What if he has second thoughts about me?” Jenny wrung her
hands.

“Dear, how will you ever know what he thinks of you unless
you allow him to court you—as he’s so earnestly desired?” Cathleen asked.

Jenny looked indecisive for a moment and then she nodded as
if she’d come to an agreement with herself. She turned in Cathleen’s direction.
“Would you help me write him a letter, Miss Ryan?”

“Of course I will.”

* * * * *

“Where’s Charlie?” Ransom asked the boy’s father. “I
promised to let him help with the foals.”

Straightening from inspecting a horse’s shoe, Morris Hunt
raked his hat off his head and mopped the sweat from his brow with a red
handkerchief. “He took that Yankee teacher down to Spring Hill.”

Panic flared. “Did they go in the wagon?” Ransom didn’t know
whether to admire her or reassess his opinion of her mental faculties.

Morris nodded. “Charles said you’d been teaching him so I
figured it’d be all right.”

A muscle in Ransom’s jaw clenched. “I let him drive once.
I’d hardly say he’s ready to take a rig out on his own.” He hefted his saddle
out of the tack room and started toward Asteroid. “I have a bad feeling about
this. How long have they been gone?”

Morris shrugged. “Maybe an hour. He looked like he knew what
he was doing when they drove off the place.”

“It’s not Charlie I’m worried about.” He threw a blanket on
Asteroid’s back and then planted the saddle on top of it.

Asteroid gave him a quizzical look when he began tersely
tightening the girth strap. Ransom forced himself to calm down, but his gut
told him Cathleen Ryan wouldn’t do anything short of starting a riot in Spring
Hill.

Spring Hill still bore deep scars from the war and even
though the town had its share of Unionists, for the most part it was filled
with staunch Confederates—namely staunch Confederate
women
who’d smarted
from the loss to a far greater degree than any of the returning veterans.

“Do I need to come along?” Morris asked.

“No. I’ll go,” Ransom said, swinging into the saddle.
Asteroid blew and his muscles rippled as he readied to carry his charge. “I’m
sure they’re just fine.”
But I don’t want to take any chances.

He snapped the reins and Asteroid bolted out of the stable.
The animal had been bred to fly on his feet and his tenure as a warhorse had
aged him but hadn’t robbed him of his speed.

Ransom leaned low and, knowing Asteroid enjoyed the
exercise, let the horse set the pace. It’d been a long time since he’d allowed
the animal to run at full speed. In his day, there hadn’t been a horse in the
state that could touch him. Adrenaline fired through Ransom’s veins as the wind
whipped through his clothes and through Asteroid’s dark-auburn mane.

The horse’s powerful legs ate up the distance. His muscles
worked. A sense of pride filled Ransom as he realized the animal had not yet
become winded. He himself had chosen the sire and dam and when Asteroid had won
his first race, Ransom’s father had bragged that his son possessed the blood of
a true breeder.

Until this moment, those memories had seemed vague and
faraway, as if they’d happened to someone else.

Asteroid covered the four miles in minutes and resisted the
rein when Ransom urged him to slow his place. He whinnied in protest.

“Whoa, boy,” he said, patting the animal’s solid neck.
“Whoa. We don’t want to run over anybody.” Besides, he needed to stay alert to
look for Charles and Cathleen.

What sort of business could that exasperating woman have in
town? Unease sent a tingle up his spine as Asteroid plodded up the rise and
past the church.

“If she’s put Charlie in the middle of so—” Ransom stopped
short. And as if Asteroid sensed trouble, he halted in his tracks.

His heart plummeted. A thousand emotions at once vied for
eminence. Anger topped the lot of them.

There, dead center on the porch of the McKissack home, stood
Cathleen Ryan surrounded by a crowd of women.

The Byrne rig was parked at the edge of the Columbia Pike
and little Charles sat on the back dangling his bare feet and eating a peach.

Ransom briefly shut his eyes, hoping he’d imagined seeing
his sister’s teacher alongside the most scarlet woman in town, Mrs. George
Peters.

While Dr. Peters was away, Jessie Peters had brazenly dallied
with General Van Dorn. The illicit relationship had cost Van Dorn his life at
the hands of the affronted doctor, who made it to Mississippi before being
captured.

Peters was tried and summarily acquitted and although Jessie
still maintained nothing inappropriate had happened, everyone in town had seen
Van Dorn in the Peters family carriage frolicking around the countryside.

There was even talk Peters had shot Van Dorn as the general
had tried to make good an escape from their home under cloak of night.

Jessie, herself, looked utterly enthralled with whatever
diatribe Cathleen was espousing.

Ransom suddenly wished the ground would swallow him up,
horse and all.

Men were also beginning to congregate and from their
expressions, they looked none too thrilled with Cathleen’s radical
sermon—especially a clutch of men from nearby Columbia who Ransom knew to be
nightriders. Still smarting from the South’s bitter defeat, they sought to
bring about their own brand of justice by breeding hate and fear.

“Goddammit,” he muttered and clicked to Asteroid.

The horse glanced back, a dubious gleam flashing in his eye
before he clomped forward. Cathleen hadn’t seen him. She clutched a bunch of
pamphlets, and to Ransom’s horror, he saw that those flocked around her had each
been given one.

Her face flushed as she spoke. An errant strand of black
hair had escaped her tight bun and hung disregarded over her forehead and one
lens of her black spectacles. Fist clenched and raised, she railed.

Her voice rang clear. “The preamble of the Federal
Constitution says, ��We, the people of the United States, in order to form a
more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for
the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of
liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this
Constitution for the United States of America.’

“It states
we, the people
, not we, the white male
citizens, but we, the
whole
people, who form this Union. Women
and
men.”

At this, some of the women nodded.

One of the men spat tobacco juice on the ground and crossed
his arms over his chest.

“Is it not a downright mockery to bandy about terms such as
liberty while women are denied the right to vote? This country has made sex,”
at that word, one woman gasped and looked away, “a qualification that results
in the denial of rights to one half of the people. The very blessings of
liberty are to this day withheld from women.”

“Ain’t you that Yankee teacher come from up North to teach
the Byrne girl?” one man butted in.

“There’s Ransom now,” said another man Ransom only knew as
Coot.

“Ransom!” Jessie called, breaking into a wide grin.

Cathleen attempted to maintain her hold on the crowd.
Ignoring his presence, she continued. “Why, in the name of reason and justice,
I implore you, should a woman not enjoy the same rights as man?”

“Miss Ryan, it’s time to go.” Asteroid stomped the ground
with one hoof as if for emphasis.

Undaunted, she rattled on. “Here in the South, the women
will soon be degraded below—”

“Time to go.” Ransom’s voice carried over the crowd.

Cathleen stared, stunned, but only for a moment before she
attempted to speak again. This time, it was the throng that drowned her out.

“Can’t you keep that Yankee gal in check, Byrne?”

“Does all your hired help go around so uppity?”

The women seemed shocked. The men were a hairsbreadth from
becoming belligerent.

One woman began quoting scripture as if the very words could
save her from Cathleen’s blasphemy. “But I would have you know, that the head
of every man is Christ. And the head of the woman is the man, and the head of
Christ is God.”

Shit.

With a squeeze of his thighs, Ransom urged Asteroid through
the assembly, walking the beast right up to the porch. “Time to go,” he said
through clenched teeth. Then he reached out, hooked his arm around Cathleen’s
hips and dragged her onto the saddle with him.

“Mr. Byrne!”

“Show’s over,” he announced as he carefully wheeled Asteroid
around and started back to the pike. “Take the rig home,” he called to Charles
as he turned back toward Thompson’s Station.

“What are you doing? I wasn’t finished.” She squirmed
against him, inadvertently wriggling her bottom in maddening opposition to his
crotch.

His cock responded in spite of his will—and fury.

“You’re quite finished.” Holding her in a vise grip around
the waist, he dug in his heels.

She let out a yelp of surprise as Asteroid thundered down
the pike.

Ransom didn’t stop at the big house. He bypassed the barn.
He didn’t know why, but he rode all the way to the old house, then swung down
from the saddle, hauled Cathleen into his arms and manhandled her into the
house.

“Mr. Byrne!” she protested.

His entire body shook with rage. “What the hell do you think
you were doing?”

“Educating those women.”

He didn’t relinquish the grip on her arm. “You don’t know
these people. That sort of rash behavior might be acceptable in Boston, but not
in Tennessee.”

She struggled but he jerked her against him, holding both
her arms to prevent her from escaping. “Did you not consider my family’s
reputation? Jenny’s? For God’s sake, Cathleen…”

“What I do on my own time is my concern. Unhand me.”

He stared. His heart thudded against his rib cage. His
stomach twisted into knots. This woman held not only Jenny’s fate in her hands,
but his own as well. He’d never be able to leave this place unless she did her
job. He clenched his teeth so hard he feared they might crack.

“Those women need to be educated about how you men are
debasing them.”

“‘You men’? ‘Debasing’?
Debasing
?” That was it. “I’ll
show you what debased means.” He was out of control but he couldn’t prevent
himself from sitting on the settee and dragging her across his knee.

She thrashed and objected but he delivered three blows to
her bottom, infuriated further by the soft thuds that landed on her voluminous
skirts and petticoats. With one hand, he gathered both her wrists behind her
back and with the other, he tugged up her skirts until he’d bared her thinly
clad bottom, and then he smacked that soft flesh several times in hard
succession.

The anger driven out of him, he released his hold. She
scrambled away, stumbling backward and tearing off her spectacles. They fell
from her hands and clattered to the floor. She stood, shoulders heaving with
deep breaths, her black hair askew, her eyes wild.

God, she’s beautiful…

The thought came out of nowhere. Remorse warred with rage.
Dark desire battled exasperation.

Her hands balled into tight fists. She gaped for several
seemingly unending seconds and then rushed toward him.

He expected her to pummel him, to slap him. He certainly
deserved it and he braced himself.

Instead, she cupped his face in her hands, tilted his chin
up—and covered his mouth with her own.

Cathleen didn’t stop to wonder what had come over her. For
the first time in her life, she acted on impulse. She should have been ashamed,
even mortified, that he’d had the audacity to bend her over his knee and spank
her. But the contact had produced the opposite effect.

For one smoldering instant, control had been stripped from her,
forcibly taken, rendering her forever changed. All at once, years of
self-imposed sexual repression had crumbled at her feet, freeing her. Animal
instinct had compelled her to give in to her physical desires and kiss him.

She’d never dreamed a kiss could make her feel so…
much
.

Hard, unyielding lips plied hers. Her hands cradled the
dominant strength of his masculine bone structure. His arms crushed her against
him, making her feel small in contrast.

Feminine.

Heat radiated from her backside, pooling between her legs.
Sure, she’d experienced arousal before, but never anything as annihilating as
this. Need surged as wild and fierce as the surf in a nor’easter. She should
fight it. She should remember her place.

She didn’t want to.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he stood, his body still
molded to hers from head to toe, his mouth still fused with hers. A big hand
cupped the back of her head, forcing her chin up as his tongue thrust between
her lips. The kiss claimed her, marked her, and left her knees so weak they
would have buckled were it not for his steel-hard arm around her waist.

His mouth tasted like nothing comparable. Minty, salty
toothpowder laced with something that was uniquely
Ransom
.

She whimpered as her feet suddenly left the floor. He walked
her backward until he’d pinned her against the wall. Drawing a deep enough
breath proved difficult. She’d never imbibed but knew instinctively that this
is what it felt like to be intoxicated. His body pinned her there and she clung
to broad shoulders as hands fought with and rucked up her skirts.

Heat blazed from her, from him. She was too hot. He was too
close. But there wasn’t one thing she would alter about this moment.

His knees pushed between hers, parting them, opening her,
depriving her of a choice. She couldn’t have prevented him if she’d wanted to.
And that was just it. She wanted everything he was prepared to give her and
more.

She should have been appalled to be spanked and then taken
like a cheap harlot who plied her trade in mean back alleys. Instead, she
reveled in this…this freedom that allowed her to experience pleasure without
guilt or guile.

Oh God…

His erection pressed against the now slippery crease between
her thighs. Her breath caught. Her heart pounded. Blood thrummed through her
veins and she tipped her hips to feel more. Her consciousness slipped to the
places where their bodies touched. Her mouth, her breasts, her groin.

Take me, Ransom…

She wanted him and at that moment, felt if it didn’t happen,
she would surely die from sheer desire.

Fingers plunged through the slit in her drawers, between her
legs, and stroked her. There was nothing gentle about the caress. Instead, he
probed her folds desperately. His hand trembled as he touched her. His breath
rattled. She’d never felt anything so remarkably wonderful. Bliss lurked just
out of reach.

A finger teased at her opening, then slid back to rub the
knot of nerves crowning her sex.

It all seemed to happen so fast, and yet, to Cathleen, it
felt as if time stood still so that every touch, every breath, every beat of
her heart left an indelible imprint of this encounter on her soul.

His fingers left her and while he continued kissing her, she
felt them working the buttons of his fly. Anticipation stampeded through her
being.
Yes, yes…
“Oh yes,” she managed, uttering the plea into his
mouth.

Hard, thick flesh raked through her slit. She couldn’t
swallow. She couldn’t even breathe. The pain she’d heard rumored was but a
distant thought. All she knew was that she wanted him inside her. Now.

He dipped, his body forcing her harder against the wall. The
head of his cock nudged at her barrier and she gasped. Her body trembled
violently. “Do it, Ransom. Please…”

He hesitated. His shoulders shook. “Goddammit.”

He took a half step back and Cathleen ached for the loss of
his flesh, his heat against her.
No…

Frustration and confusion deluged her, and then without
warning, one of his hands tangled into the hair at her nape to release her
chignon. Hairpins clattered to the floor. His chest anchored her to the wall
and his mouth sought hers again as his fingers tantalized her clitoris.
Applying the perfect amount of pressure, he rubbed in a circular motion.

Once more she found herself willingly at his mercy. His lips
left hers and moved to her ear. Hot, harsh breaths heightened her sensation.
She inhaled the scent of his clothes, of his skin, of his mouth—the fragrance
of their mutual arousal. Heady and sweet. It made her head swim.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “Let me please you. I want you
to die on my fingers.”

She did die. A glorious death.

All at once.

Uninhibited moans spilled from her lips as her channel
convulsed and the hard bud beneath his fingertips pulsed with a beat of its
own. Every muscle in her body tensed and then seemed to release and float as pleasure
fired through her, igniting nerve endings in her scalp then shooting downward
to her toes. Stars flashed behind her eyelids. She’d never experienced such
ecstasy at the hands of another.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed in her ear. “That’s what
you wanted.”

It’s not all I wanted.
Her lashes fluttered open and
she realized how awful this would look to an outsider.

Her breaths came in ragged pants. So did his. Her body
jerked as he made one more slow circle of her slippery sex and then removed his
hand. Her skirts billowed down as he stepped away, turned his back and did up
his breeches.

Mercy
.

The last few moments replayed through her head as if they
were happening at lightning speed. She, herself, wouldn’t have believed it if
she weren’t still humming with lust.

He’d nearly taken her.

Her kiss-swollen lips parted. She closed her eyes at the
memory of his cock sliding through her crease. A breath left her lungs in a
rush. She could have gotten pregnant! Dear Lord, she’d lost her mind. She’d
begged
him to take her. Shame flushed her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth without looking
back.

She gulped. Her brain grappled for words. Any words. She
stood dumbfounded, shocked at her behavior, confounded at how badly she’d
wanted him.

“No. It is I who should apologize,” she said hoarsely.

He snorted. “Good day, Miss Ryan.”

She blinked. Had he just dismissed her? Just like that?
After what they’d done? She wanted to discuss it, to make sense of it. She
stared at his back.

He cut his gaze at her over his shoulder. “Good. Day.” His
tone brooked no refusal.

She didn’t even stop to pick up her hairpins. Instead, she
fled out the door. Hot tears burned her eyes. The sun blinded her and she
shielded her face with her arm. She’d left her glasses, but she wasn’t about to
go back and get them.

She rushed to the big house and up the back stairs, then
flung herself on her bed and muffled her sobs with her pillow. What had she
done?

And why did his cold disregard cause her heart to hurt so
badly?

* * * * *

Ransom dropped into his chair. Tension set him on edge. He
dug his fingers into the armrests, the motion attracting his gaze to the hand
he’d used to pleasure Cathleen. He lifted his fingertips and breathed in the
scent of her. So sweet and pure, and decidedly feminine. An image of burying
his head between her legs, of tasting her, flashed in his brain. His mouth
watered at the thought.

And then mortification swamped him.

He’d spanked her.

Spanked her!

Why did she drive him to such rash behavior? How could he
ever make amends?

Shit.

He shook his head. Her reaction had completely caught him by
surprise. She’d kissed him. After he’d worn her ass out, she’d kissed him! He
blew out a sigh. He’d known women who enjoyed a certain amount of rough play,
but that spanking had really aroused her. She’d been so damn wet he thought
he’d spill his seed on the spot.

His cock protested against his tight trousers.
Absentmindedly, he stroked himself through his clothes, recalling her clumsy,
passionate kisses, her unabashed moans. She’d been ready. It made his head spin
to think how ready she’d been. He could have easily taken her.

But what then?

Thank heavens he’d had the wherewithal to stop when he did.
He’d seen to it that she finished because intuitively he knew that if she’d
asked him one more time, he would have impaled her.

And, truth be told, if he had, he’d probably still be
fucking her.

Something about her stripped him of reason and provoked him
to the point of wanting to thoroughly dominate, to tear off her clothes and
pleasure her until she yielded to him body and soul.

He rubbed his jaw. It didn’t make sense.

She
didn’t make sense.

This goddamned attraction to her didn’t make sense.

She hadn’t smelled of perfume like other women he’d known
intimately. Instead, he’d detected the faint scent of soap and talcum. He liked
her fragrance. More than he cared to admit.

There’d been no pretense in her actions. She’d kissed as if
baser elements controlled her. Her hips had rocked at his touch. Her cunny had
become drenched. Her fingers had curled so tightly into his shoulders, her
nails would have left marks had he not been wearing a shirt.

She’d done nothing for show or sport. She’d been…
real
.
Genuine.

Ransom stretched out his leg and finally relented and
unbuttoned his fly. He continued stroking himself slowly. He wasn’t the type of
man who doubted his abilities. Quite the contrary. But to discover a woman who
acted on her desires with such forthright passion…

A man liked knowing where he stood in regards to pleasures
of the flesh.

And if she was really open to the idea of free love, then
what would it hurt to—

“Damn,” he muttered. He was actually entertaining the idea
of initiating more with her. What was he thinking? He’d gone completely insane
to consider such a thing.

First of all, he did not intend to marry. Not anyone.
Especially not Cathleen Ryan. Being discovered, or inadvertently getting her
pregnant, would doom them both to the altar—no matter what objections she
raised.

Secondly, suppose she did something utterly foolish, such as
fall in love? He shuddered. She wouldn’t be the first female to set her sights
on him.

“Women,” he murmured.

Most importantly, the fact remained that she was Jenny’s
teacher. Jenny needed her full attention. He needed to look elsewhere for a place
to bury his cock.

His gaze fell on the pair of spectacles lying in the floor
amidst several hairpins. He inhaled. She’d be wanting those back. Damn, why
wouldn’t his cock go down?

Giving up, he reclined his head on the back of the chair and
squeezed his flesh. Blood pounded in the crown, making him impossibly harder,
longer. He pulled up and over the tip and then back down again. His dry palm
was hardly an appropriate substitute for Cathleen’s moist heat.

He imagined how good it would feel to push past the barrier
no man had ever before breached, to seat himself fully inside her—to possess
her.

She’d rise beneath him. She’d sigh her pleasure and rake her
nails down his back. A shudder tore through him at the thought. He hissed
through his teeth. So hot. So wet.

Her legs would wrap around him, holding him tightly inside
her. And when he moved, she’d move with him.

His Annabel Lee.

In spite of the heat, cold chills whispered across his skin.
His sac tightened and he exploded. “Cathleen…” He breathed her name as hot
liquid oozed onto his hand and dripped down his knuckles.

“Cathleen…” he muttered again, and continued to stroke until
the last ripple of pleasure eddied away.

* * * * *

Supper was a terse affair.

Cathleen could hardly make eye contact with Ransom. He’d
arrived late, mumbled an awkward greeting and now ate quietly—and brooded.

Cathleen attempted to give all her attention to Jenny, but
realized how obviously she avoided Ransom. Even without her sight, Jenny would
know something had been irrevocably altered between them.

The only one who seemed completely oblivious was Mrs. Byrne.
By this time of day, she was well into her cups. No one mentioned her
dependence on
her tonic
, as she called it. Least of all Mr. Byrne, who
only appeared inside the house at mealtime or bedtime.

Cathleen chanced a glance at Ransom and caught his eye. At
once, her face flamed with heat. She knew she was blushing but there was little
she could do about it other than quickly look away.

“Miss Ryan is going to start teaching me braille tomorrow,”
Jenny announced.

“That’s lovely,” Mrs. Byrne said.

Mr. Byrne made a noise of approval—or at least that’s what
Cathleen thought—and then lifted his glass for more tea. Sally moved to fill
it.

Jenny’s forehead furrowed. “Braille,” she repeated. “Don’t
you understand? I’ll be able to read.”

“I’m certain you will pick up the skills quickly,” Cathleen
said.

“You won’t have to read to me anymore, Ransom,” Jenny said,
directing her comment across the table.

His lips pulled into a little smile. “I’ve never minded
reading to you.” Again his gaze flicked to Cathleen’s.