Nora (8 page)

“Yes, Mama,” Melly said, subdued. “I was only talking to him about Bruce.”

“Bruce?”

“His son. You remember, Nora and I drove him home from the church picnic. He is a very difficult man to speak to, and Bruce's behavior is worsening. I felt that I must speak to him, but he became angry,” she added convincingly.

“I see. I do wonder why Mr. Langhorn came here tonight,” she added somberly, glancing across the room toward him and frowning. “He never attends social functions, does he? Perhaps he had business to discuss with someone.”

“That is possible,” Melly said. She followed her mother's gaze and had her eyes momentarily captured by Mr. Langhorn's unsmiling ones. It was like a jolt of lightning. She felt it all through her body and quickly dropped her eyes.

Her mother's attention was diverted by a young man coming toward them. “Well, this is a nice surprise. It's young Mr. Larrabee.” She patted Melly's hand encouragingly. “He is very nice. He was asking for you a moment ago.”

“Mama, I do wish you would not push me at men!”

Helen was taken aback. “Don't you wish to marry?”

“Yes. But…why not encourage Nora to dance with some of these young men? Mr. Barton, perhaps,” she added cautiously.

Her mother's face stiffened. “My dear, Nora is an heiress,” Helen said softly. “She will be a very wealthy woman one day. A lady of her social position simply does not dance in public with an ordinary cowboy. People would talk.”

“Surely out here we are more democratic,” Melly began.

“One must not create scandal,” Helen said firmly. “Now, dear, if you could hand me one of those china cups, I will fill it for Mrs. Blake before you are asked to dance by that nice young Larrabee boy making his way toward us.”

Melly agreed quietly, thinking that she felt as sorry for Nora as she did for herself. She'd hoped that her mother might relent a little about the unsuitability of Mr. Barton, but her mind was made up. Poor Nora. If she had any contact at all with the handsome foreman, it would have to be done discreetly and in a clandestine fashion. Melly's eyes flashed as she thought about the unfairness of it all. But, then—perhaps she could help!

N
ORA WASN'T CERTAIN WHETHER
to be happy or sad that she wasn't able to dance even once with Cal Barton. His impatience with her made her miserable. If only he were someone of wealth and station, someone she had the right to care about, to be seen with. Aunt Helen had made it quite clear how she felt about division of the social classes. It made Nora sad to admit that her mother would have felt exactly the same. No one was going to approve of Nora getting herself involved with a poor cowboy.

Melly was also subdued, after her unsatisfying confrontation with the abominable Mr. Langhorn. She had known his plans to marry the widow Terrell, of course she had. But to have him tell her so brutally… It didn't bear thinking about. He seemed intent on breaking her poor heart in as many ways as possible. Nora seemed to sense that hurt, because she reached out a gloved
hand and touched Melly's arm affectionately. It was a comforting gesture, and it eased the pain a little.

 

I
T WAS A LONG RIDE HOME
in the surrey, with Cal taciturn behind the reins, and Chester and the others talking in low, subdued voices. When they arrived, Chester helped Helen and Melly down, so Cal had to lift Nora down from the high step.

His big, lean hands contracted gently at her waist as he lowered her slowly to the ground. He didn't release her at once, and her heart began to race as she stared at his firm mouth and remembered unhappily how hungrily it had kissed her own that once.

In the soft moonlight, he looked down pointedly at her mouth for several seconds. His hands caressed her waist gently before they fell and he moved slowly back to take the surrey on to the barn. That look was magic. It took away Nora's pain and all her fears, because she knew then that he felt something just as powerful as she did. She didn't think about all the reasons why it was impossible, not the least of which was her own infirmity, which might recur at any time. All she knew was a thrill of ecstasy that Cal Barton desired her!

Chester lit lamps for the girls before he and Helen called good-night and went on down the hall to their bedroom.

“I'll be along in just a minute, Melly,” Nora said as she went to the front door. “I dropped one of my gloves.”

Melly wasn't fooled. She called back a reply and went to her room with a smothered grin.

Outside, Nora walked briskly down to the barn, where the flickering kerosene lantern gave Cal enough vision to unhitch the sleek buggy horse and bed it down for the night.

He had just finished when he saw Nora standing in the doorway, watching him. His face hardened. He latched the horse's stall and grabbed the lantern from its nail with subdued fury.

“Aren't you out of place, Miss Marlowe?” he asked coldly. “A barn is hardly your setting, is it?”

She nodded toward the lantern. “Could you put that out, please?”

He hesitated, but only for a minute. “Why not?” He humored her, curious.

“And could you put it down, as well?” she persisted.

He shrugged. He set the lantern on the ground and straightened.

“Thank you,” she said softly. And she moved forward, right up against him. She went on tiptoe and looped her arms around his neck.

Cal caught her by the waist, breathing in her perfume, and pushed while he still had enough sense to resist her.

“Don't do that!” he said angrily.

But she wouldn't budge. Her arms tightened, in fact. “Why not?” she whispered. It delighted her that he was so quickly responsive. She could see his shirt jerking
with the hard beat of his heart, and it thrilled her. She pressed her hands against the shirt, smoothing them over hard, warm muscle through the fabric. She loved the touch of him.

He barely heard her for the thunder of his heart. He stopped pushing as he felt her breath on his mouth, teasing, tempting. The warmth of her body, the scent of her, made him so hungry that he could hardly stand straight. Would it be so terrible to give in to what he was feeling, just this once? He groaned as the need caught him up in its fervor. Her mouth was so soft, so sweet. He had to have it!

“Eleanor,” he whispered huskily, bending. “Oh, God, Eleanor…!”

Even as he spoke her name, she pushed her lips upward against his firm mouth and made a tiny sound, deep in her throat.

He groaned, lost to everything except the softness of her in his arms. He lifted her against him and riveted her slender body to his in an intimacy she'd never shared with anyone except him. The feel of his powerful body so close to hers made her reckless and she clung even closer, loving the experienced crush of his hard mouth over her soft lips.

His head spun while he kissed her and kissed her in the silence of the barn. He kissed her until he felt her tremble like a leaf, and then his mouth was briefly cruel because of the fever she raised in him. But eventually she stiffened a little and moaned, and he realized that he was bruising her.

He loosened his hold enough to let her feet touch the ground, but her mouth clung to his lips even then.

“Don't stop,” she pleaded, her legs shaking as she held to him to keep her balance. Her face hung just under his, yielded and worshipping, her swollen lips parted and faintly red.

“Don't tease,” he said unsteadily. “You know how dangerous it is.”

“Do I?” she asked dazedly. “But I only want to kiss you,” she whispered. “Please, just a little while longer…”

“Eleanor, you must stop this!” He dragged her hands down from his neck and stood gasping for breath, fighting the specter of uncontrollable desire.

“Don't you want to kiss me?” she asked, confused.

He ground his teeth together. How could he confess to her that he was dying to have her? That his body ached to bury itself in the warm innocence of hers, that his hands longed for the naked softness of her breasts and her belly and her legs!

“You try me too far,” he ground out. Perspiration beaded his broad forehead. He pressed her hands to the front of his shirt and held them there. “Eleanor, go back inside. This is not the hour for us to speak of personal matters. What would your aunt and uncle think if they saw us now, like this?”

She was barely able to think at all. But it occurred to her at once that they would blame him, accuse him of trying to seduce her. He would suffer, not
she. No one would believe that she had deliberately tempted him.

She managed to step back from him, her body hungry for the pleasure she had to deny it. “Oh, I am sorry,” she said miserably. “I didn't stop to think. You were angry with me, and I wanted you to know that it was Aunt Helen who forbade me to dance with you.”

He moved back a step as well, his tall body faintly unsteady as he realized how close to the edge they'd stepped. He'd never been quite so vulnerable before, and he was no novice. She certainly didn't kiss like one, he thought. He was more curious about her experience than ever before.

It was more than possible that she was playing with him, as she'd played with Greely. It might even be a game to her, seeing how far she could push him. After all, he knew that she was well aware of what she presumed was the difference in their social status. If she wasn't just a tease, why was she permitting him these liberties when she knew her aunt and uncle would disapprove? Certainly she couldn't be in love with him. A woman of her background and status wouldn't allow herself to fall in love with someone as unsuitable as she considered him. She was too haughty. No, she had to be teasing, to see if she could make him respond to her advances. She was toying with him, thinking that he was of the same ilk as Greely—a shy, untried rustic.

The thought strengthened his resolve. She needed
to be taught a lesson, and he was just the man to do it. She had a sweet mouth. He enjoyed kissing her. But his heart was unassailable. No woman had ever touched it.

“Why did you come out here tonight?” he asked with a lazy drawl, his hands still holding her waist loosely.

“Because I don't like having you angry with me.” She looked up sadly. “You must know that I would have enjoyed nothing more than to have danced with you.”

She even managed to look repentant, he thought. He saw right through the subterfuge. “But the politician was your social equal, and I was not,” he reminded her. “You did not want people to think that you were associating with someone who was socially beneath you. Isn't that the truth of the matter?”

Her blue eyes shimmered with sadness and resignation. It might be kinder to let him think so than to have to admit the truth about her own hopeless infirmity. But she didn't have the heart to do it.

“I cannot put my aunt in such a position,” she said quietly. “She is my mother's sister. Both of them came from European royalty. It would… Forgive me, it would outrage them to know that I allowed myself to become interested in someone who was…not of our class,” she finished miserably. “Oh, can't you see that it is no wish of mine?” she asked, looking up with tears in her eyes. “Can you not feel my heart beat when you hold me, and know that I…that I…!”

She was drawing him in with those tears, that wobbling voice. But he knew too much about the vagaries of women to be caught like this. He simply played along.

“That you care for me?” he asked softly.

She dropped her eyes to his chest, all but strangled by the mad beat of her heart. “Yes,” she said huskily. “That I care for you.”

He had to fight to keep from laughing. She was good at dalliance. He wondered how experienced she really was, under her facade.

She glanced up at his set face, trying with her inexperience to read what was there. Her male cousins had hardly prepared her for a contretemps with a man she desired. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to be with him all the time. She wanted only him, if it meant the sacrifice of everything she had.

He drew her face up to his and kissed her briefly on the mouth. “You must go inside,” he said quietly. “This is not the time for such discussions.”

“I do not want you to go,” she said. “I want only to be with you.”

He steeled himself not to feel those words right through to his heart. He wasn't going to allow her to toy with him. Poor Greely had suffered at her hands, but Cal was no impressionable boy.

She realized at last that he didn't believe a word she was saying. In his eyes was cynicism and some sort of cool amusement.

“Why…you do not believe me at all,” she said slowly.

“After the way you treated Greely, do you expect me to?” he said. “You looked down your pert nose at me from the moment we met, making so sure I knew that you wouldn't dirty your little hand by touching a common cowboy.”

She faltered. “I…have lived in such a different world from yours,” she tried to explain it. “Even in my travels, I was sheltered from the realities of life. You must allow for my background.”

“Why?”

She didn't know how to reply to such a blunt question. Her soft eyes searched his hard face. It was like talking to granite. “I shall try,” she said. “Really, I shall. I…want to know about your life, about you. I want to understand.”

He touched her soft mouth with his fingertip, tracing it lazily until he felt her lips tremble. She was affected by him physically. She couldn't hide that. But whether or not her heart and mind were involved, he didn't know. His eyes narrowed with calculation.

“You have already said that your aunt does not approve of any contact between us,” he reminded her.

She caught his hand in both of hers. Forgotten was her illness, her life before now, her wealth and position. She wanted this man as she had never wanted anything before. It would work out. It must!

“I will meet you, in secret,” she said fervently.
“When ever, wherever, you say! I will do anything you ask of me.”

He went very still. “Anything, Eleanor?” he taunted softly.

She flushed. “Anything…within reason.”

“And nothing indiscreet?” he persisted. His pale eyes narrowed. “It is a poor regard which sets such rigid limits.”

She gnawed her lower lip. “I cannot be indiscreet,” she whispered. “It is not only my own wishes that I must consider. There is my family.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “Surely you understand loyalty to your kinfolk? Don't you feel the same responsibility toward yours?”

He did. More than he could admit. But he wanted her completely yielded, so much in love that she would dare anything, risk anything, for him. He refused to consider his reasoning, or his motives. It was suddenly imperative to bend her to his will.

He pulled her close and bent to kiss her with slow, rough hunger. He felt her soft body tremble in his arms and wondered cynically how many other men had experienced her pretended shy passion. An innocent adventuress was a contradiction in terms.

His big hand slid up her side to touch the side of her small breast. She jumped and caught at his wrist frantically, drawing her mouth back in a flurry of embarrassment.

He let his arms fall away and smiled mockingly. “Limits already, Eleanor?”

She clasped her hands together tightly. “No decent woman—” she began.

“Decency has no license here,” he said firmly. “A woman who cares deeply for a man thinks less of rigid social conduct and more of giving pleasure.”

She moved back a step. She was appalled at his attitude. Surely if he cared for her, he would not ask such a sacrifice. Her whirling mind struggled to focus.

He was losing her. He saw the uncertainty in her face and moved forward to take her hands in his and lift them hungrily, palms up, to his mouth. “Forgive me,” he said smoothly. “I was testing you. I shall not ask any great sacrifices of you, Eleanor. I want only the pleasure of your company, the solace of your kisses when I am lonely. I shall ask no more than you wish to give.”

She relaxed with a soft sigh and smiled at him. Her love grew by leaps and bounds, and she saw rainbows of happiness ahead.