Untamed Journey (31 page)

When Jackson looked up in her direction,
Ruth’s fingers unconsciously touched her lips, recalling the feel
of him waking her that very morning with a stolen kiss. She’d tried
to muster a token protest that he had snuck into her room so early
in the morning, but never got the words passed her swollen lips and
the small bribe of hot coffee.

As Jackson continued to hold her gaze from
the grass below, Ruth wondered if he could read her thoughts, as a
satisfied smile broke slowly across his face.

Emmett watched his brother lock eyes with
Ruth the minute she caught sight of him from the bedroom window. He
turned and gave Charlie a friendly jab in the ribs. “Crenshaw,
you’d best wrangle a dance from Miss Ruth tonight, ‘cause my money
says the next chance you’ll get is at her wedding.”

“What do you mean?” The disappointment at
being too late was clear in his voice. “Who’s she marrying?”

“She’s going to marry me,” Jackson quietly
replied, never taking his eyes off Ruth.

“But Miss Sue didn’t say anything about an
engagement to me this afternoon,” Crenshaw countered, doubt evident
in his voice.

“She hasn’t accepted yet,” Jackson admitted,
smiling up at the watching Ruth as he tipped his hat to her. “But
she will,” he added cockily.

“Well that doesn’t count. She’s still fair
game,” Crenshaw insisted, pulling himself up to his full height as
he turned to face Jackson squarely.

Jackson lazily moved off the fence, stepping
into Crenshaw’s path as he tossed his cigar aside. “Have a care how
you speak about the future mother of my children.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Crenshaw
dissembled, as he looked anywhere but into Jackson’s eyes. “I have
the utmost respect for any female who has gone head-to-head with
armed train robbers. I’m just talking about fair competition. I
could become the marrying type, for the right woman.”

The absurdity of that truth relaxed Jackson
so much that he slapped his young friend on the back. “I can stand
the competition, Crenshaw. Dance with Ruth, if you’d like. It won’t
matter.”

Jackson had been contemplating taking his
seduction further, but hadn’t quite made up his mind. Once Charlie
stated his intentions, the decision was made. Tonight was
definitely the night he would take Ruth and make her his.

As Old Mike started a jig on the homemade
fiddle he had inherited from his father, Jackson, Emmett, and
Charlie joined the other men gathering in the barn. Jackson was
always impressed with the effort Sue and the other women took to
spruce up the barn. It was a great deal of work for the men to
relocate all the livestock for the night as well. Although they
grumbled at the aches and pains, it was always worth it when they
saw the joy on the faces of the women.

Jackson accepted the proffered glass of
Scotch whiskey his brother brought from the barrel they had tapped
for the occasion. “Much obliged.”

Emmett nodded in the direction of Charlie and
the Jones brothers. All three were surreptitiously trying to hide
the flowers they had brought for Ruth. “You sure you don’t want to
join the crowd?” His brother teased.

“I’m certain she’ll appreciate my gift more,”
Jackson said, patting his coat pocket. He’d filed the papers for
Ruth’s own homestead – on prime farmland adjacent to his – with the
nearest surveyor’s office the week Ruth and Sue had visited Fort
Lyon.

“Hell, that choice piece of land should be
enough to convince anyone to wake up to your ugly face every
morning,” Emmett ribbed.

“It’s hers regardless,” Jackson explained. “I
put it in her name alone.”

Emmett whistled at the surprise gesture. “Be
a mite touchy if she falls for Crenshaw and they live happily ever
after as your new neighbors.”

Jackson punched his brother on the shoulder
for that comment before downing the last of his whiskey.

Their banter was interrupted by a slow
whistle from one of the men standing to their left, as all gazes
turned to the barn door.

As Ruth walked through, every pair of male
eyes turned to her. A surprised hush fell over the crowd,
interrupted only by the sound of Old Mike’s fiddle as he dished out
the final chords of a lively jig.

Ruth knew she looked pretty in her borrowed
dress, but searched for Jackson’s reaction just the same. When she
locked eyes with him, she knew instinctively that he found her more
than pretty. His heated gaze took in every inch of her, encased in
the cobalt blue of her velvet dress.

She smoothed her palms down the sides of the
soft fabric, secretly thrilled at his reaction.

Her unconsciously seductive gesture was meant
for Jackson, but affected all the men just the same.

Charles Xavier Crenshaw awoke from his daze
first, and quickly got the jump on his competitors as he ran up to
Ruth and asked for the first dance.

All eyes turned to Jackson, to gauge his
reaction, as Ruth let herself be pulled into the first waltz.

Jackson kept his expression carefully
neutral, until his little brother chided. “You might want to
reconsider those flowers.”

Jackson had to fight the urge to punch his
brother in the face for the first time in thirty years. He was
forced to watch his woman smile flirtatiously at Charlie, as the
young man effortlessly twirled her around in a waltz.

When their dance ended, Old Mike began
another slow tune that allowed Jebediah Jones to clutch both of
Ruth’s delicate hands in his as they performed the steps of the
dance. Jackson glared at Mike, wondering if the old man was
consorting with his brother to goad Jackson into losing his
temper.

He quietly circled the dance floor,
ostensibly to refill his empty glass, but never once taking his
eyes off of Ruth. He’d promised himself the day before to allow
Ruth her day of flirtation. He wanted her to dance with every
available man there – and at the end of the night, choose him. He
had reasoned in the clear light of day that convincing Ruth to
break an engagement with her family’s choice of a husband would be
a good deal more challenging than overlooking the local men. And
being young still, and having no doubt missed the dances a girl
would normally experience outside of war time, Jackson had somewhat
arrogantly decided to allow her this night of fun.

That was before tonight – and before that
dress. And definitely a decision made before he had to watch Ruth
in the arms of other men, holding her too close in her perfectly
fitted blue velvet gown.

When Charlie made his way toward Ruth for a
second dance, Jackson had had enough. He cut Charlie off
mid-sentence as he pulled Ruth into a waltz. “This dance is
mine.”

Ruth started to protest, but swallowed her
voice the minute she felt Jackson’s familiar arms circle her waist
and pull her in tight. As he twirled her among the other dancers,
his fingers spread wide to settle just inches below her quickly
swelling breasts.

“Jackson, the others –” Ruth whispered, as
she cautiously looked around to see who might be watching them.

“It’s too dark in here,” Jackson reassured
her. “No one can see my touch or your reaction to it.”

Ruth’s imagination took flight, as she
secretly wondered what he might touch next, under the cover of
darkness.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jackson
said.

“It’s the dress,” she explained. “Catherine’s
sister made it for her a long time ago, but it no longer fits. She
loaned it to me and –” Ruth stopped her rambling, unable to look
away from his eyes.

“It’s you, not the dress,” he insisted. “You
could be dressed in rags, and no man in this room would take his
eyes off you tonight.”

She blushed prettily, absurdly pleased to be
courted for the first time in her life. As their dance came to an
end, she curtsied to him, in deference to the chivalry of times
past. “You’re too kind, sir.”

“I’m not being kind,” he insisted. “It’s the
truth. Every available man here wants you to choose him. You’ll be
able to fill my house with all the flowers everyone is waiting to
give you.”

Ruth laughed good-naturedly. “I’m just the
only new face.”

“She’s taken, Jeb,” Jackson curtly replied to
the man’s quiet tap on his shoulder, denying the Jones brother
another dance with Ruth.

Jackson led her back onto the makeshift dance
floor, signaling Mike to play another song. He continued his
conversation with Ruth, ignoring the angry glares from the other
men gathered around the whiskey barrel.

“Do you honestly think these men routinely
travel for hours, even days in some cases, just to attend every
country dance held in these parts?” Jackson asked.

“I thought they came for the new baby,” she
answered in all honesty.

“New babies are of no interest to a single
man, Ruth. They came to see you – the woman who not only survived
an armed train robbery, but helped me fight off the men
responsible. It’s not every woman who could do that. Most would
have turned around and headed back East. But not you – you fought
them off, then set off alone into the wilderness to pursue your
man.”

At her confused look, Jackson explained, “The
sailor – your fiancé.”

Ruth immediately blushed at her lie, knowing
from the look on Jackson’s face that he was starting to doubt the
man’s existence. She quickly changed the subject, not wanting to
ruin the night with the truth of her marriage. “Is that what they
are saying about me?” She asked, in genuine astonishment.

“That’s what I’ve been saying about you,” he
said. “Because that’s how I see you.”

Ruth’s pupils darkened and swelled in
response to the pride that was clear in his voice.

Her reaction was not missed by Jackson, who
quickly took advantage of the moment and swept her outside the barn
and its pale lantern light.

“Prepare yourself,” he whispered, as he
twirled her beyond hearing and sight of the others, coming to a
stop under a towering oak. He pressed her back up against the
ancient tree, as his powerful hands caressed slowly along her
sides.

“I’m done waiting, and I’m done competing
with other men. Tonight I have every intention of seducing you –
fully and completely, with no more barriers between us.”

She glanced up at Jackson from beneath her
lowered lashes, expecting him to kiss her. When he didn’t touch her
further or retreat, Ruth looked up into his eyes. Her breath came
rapidly in and out, whether from the exertion of the dance or
anticipation of Jackson’s touch, even she didn’t know.

“Tonight, Ruth. No more waiting.” When she
didn’t protest or look away from his insistent gaze, Jackson
stroked both hands up her soft velvet sides, cupping her waiting
breasts in his calloused hands.

She sucked in her breath, and let her eyes
drift closed as she felt him take down her heavy hair and slowly
stoke the rich length of it. She felt his touch in every part of
her body when he pushed all ten of his fingers up into her silky
hair, and dragged their rough surface slowly across her scalp.

She melted when Jackson turned her head to
the side and gently stroked his heated tongue across the distended
cord of her neck. He repeated the caress with his lips, coming
slowly to the nape of her neck, massaging her hair and scalp. He
gently traced the outer edge of her ear with his mouth and tongue,
until he took the lobe in his lips and gently tugged, repeating the
caress as Ruth moaned in response.

She sucked in her breath sharply when she
felt Jackson’s wet tongue stroke her inner ear, penetrating and
retreating, in a slow, seductive rhythm. She felt her insides grow
damp and swell in response to his tongue, and she pulled him closer
to rub her aching breasts against the rough surface of his
coat.

He let Ruth stroke herself against his rock
hard chest just once before he deliberately held her back – just
inches from satisfaction. He brushed his impatient hands up and
over the curve of one breast, holding her perfectly still with his
other hand.

Only when he felt her struggle against the
restraint did he take the lobe of her ear again. He bit down
carefully until he heard her suck in her breath in fascinated
response. He dragged the delicate surface carefully between his
teeth before murmuring, “Tonight, Ruth. No more barriers.”

Jackson’s deliberate words were barely
coherent to Ruth as her body desperately tried to get closer to his
seductive touch. When he continued to hold her back, pressed up
against the rough bark of the tree, she stroked her hands down his
chest, touching everything she could reach.

Before she stroked him and he lost all
control right there in the open, Jackson pulled both of Ruth’s
hands into his and held them over her head, carefully secured
against the old oak. “Let me touch you, Ruth.”

“Yes, yes,” she responded, demanding he stop
this torture. “Touch me now.”

He carefully took his one free hand and
loosened the stays down the front of her dress. He slowly parted
the midnight velvet and stroked his index finger across the bare
flesh exposed by the gaping dress.

Ruth arched her back in response, her body
unconsciously moving toward the source of pleasure, as Jackson
continued to slide that single finger across first one, and then
the other breast.

Jackson felt himself swell to the point of
pain, and stopped to deliberately slow his breathing. He felt sweat
drip down the back of his neck, chorded in strain as he fought for
self-control.

When he heard voices approaching, he loosened
his grip on Ruth’s hands until they slid down the front of him. She
slowly opened her eyes in response to Jackson’s lack of touch, and
stared up into his dark eyes in confusion. She was oblivious to the
sounds around her, caught up completely in the moment.

“Not here, Ruth. We have to stop now and join
the others. Until we’re married, we still have to observe some of
the proprieties, even out here.”