Ruth Langan - Dulcie's Gift

“How would you like to explain to your aunt how a basket of sheets happened to be dumped over you?”

Caught by surprise, he threw back his head and laughed. “Now how do I know you’re serious?”

“You need only continue holding me, Mr. Jermain, and you will find out.”

His laughter died, though his lips still curved invitingly. “By God, Miss Trenton, I think you’d do just that.”

“Then you had best release me.”

“I could.” His voice lowered to a seductive purr. “Or I could call your bluff.”

Using his good right hand, he hauled her roughly against him. She was so astonished by his actions, she dropped the basket, aware of nothing but a pair of dark eyes looking into hers. And lips, still carved in a dangerous smile.

And then his mouth was on hers and she forgot everything except the feel of his lips. Rough. Bruising. Hungry.

His hunger fueled her own. She knew that she should be offering resistance. Instead, her arms hung limply at her sides.

She heard a sound and realized it had come from deep inside her throat, like a growl of pain. Or pleasure. He answered with a moan of his own.

She was lost. Lost in the dark, mysterious taste of him. Lost in feelings unlike any she’d ever known before. Feelings that sent her pulse racing and her heart soaring. Feelings that whispered over her senses, seducing, arousing, making her forget everything except this man and his dangerous, intimate kiss.

Cal couldn’t seem to find the will to stop. Holding her, kissing her, stirred up feelings he’d thought buried forever. He had the strangest urge to go on kissing her until night crept over the land and the two of them could get lost in the darkness.

The hunger gnawed at him, causing an ache in his chest. God in heaven, what was happening to him? Calling on all his willpower, he lifted his head, dropped his arms and took a step back.

Dulcie’s eyes snapped open. In their depths he could read confusion—and something else. A slumbering sensuality. And then a sudden return of temper.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, Miss Trenton.” He was surprised at how difficult it was to speak.

“For which offense are you apologizing, Mr. Jermain?” Dulcie struggled to ignore the dryness in her throat. “The kiss? Or your cruel words?”

“I apologize for both, ma’am. I had no right.”

Without taking time to think, she lifted the wicker basket and dumped the contents over his head.

“Apology accepted,” she called over her shoulder as she turned and raced toward the house as quickly as her trembling legs would carry her.

“This is my favorite time of day.” Aunt Bessie surveyed everyone seated around the table. “The day’s chores are behind us, and the evening stretches before us like a gift to be savored.”

A gift to be savored indeed, thought Dulcie. She’d been given to understand that she and the others were expected to make their appearance at supper and continue with their chores until bedtime.

What was even more difficult was having to face Cal Jermain. She would never be able to forget the scene at the well. Or the confusing feelings he’d stirred up in her.

She forced her attention away from him.

Aunt Bessie wore an elegant gown of black, watered silk with high, ruffled neckline and long, tapered sleeves. At her throat was a cameo broach, and at her earlobes, elegant pearl-and-jade earrings.

Her nephews had changed from their rough field garb to crisp white shirts and dark suits. Though Dulcie, Starlight and the children had no change of clothes, they, too, had taken great pains to wash and make themselves presentable.

Dulcie found herself seated on Cal’s right, with Starlight and the girls alongside her. Nathaniel was seated on Cal’s left, with Barclay and Darwin beside him. She noted that many of the china plates were cracked, and several of the crystal goblets were chipped. But the dozen candles in silver candelabra in the center of the table cast their golden glow over the lace tablecloth, making the setting appear truly festive.

Robert circled the table, pouring a small amount of wine into goblets. The children’s glasses were filled with lemonade.

As Robert took his seat beside Starlight, Dulcie reached out her hands to those on either side of her as she always did. Starlight clasped her right hand, and the children followed suit. Dulcie said softly, “We would ask a blessing upon this food.”

She could feel the astonished looks from the Jermain family at her boldness. She was, after all, not an honored guest at table. She was, in fact, an intruder.

Aunt Bessie, a stickler for propriety, said imperiously, “In this house we do our praying without such outward displays of artificial reverence.”

“Artificial—!” Starlight began, but a look from Dulcie stopped her in midsentence.

Dulcie and the others lowered their hands to their laps. From his vantage point, however, Cal could plainly see that, under cover of the tablecloth, the young women and children reached out until their hands were once more clasped.

“Besides,” Aunt Bessie said sternly, “I believe God has turned His back on us since this damnable war.” She turned to her youngest nephew. “Darwin,” she said dryly, “you will lead us in prayer.”

“Bless this food,” Dar intoned.

“Amen,” his brothers said in unison, relieved that the prayer had been short and simple.

Aunt Bessie shot Dar a challenging look as she lifted her goblet of wine to her lips. “For a man trained to be elo- quent, you were very brief. I suppose this is something you learned while fighting Yankees.”

Dar stared pointedly at the table, taking care not to look at the others. Across from him, Starlight focused on the candles blazing in their splendid silver holders, seemingly oblivious to the words being spoken.

“We put in a hard day in the fields,” Barc said in defense of his brother. He drained his goblet in one swallow. “Besides, you know Dar isn’t fond of public speaking.”

“I notice you have no such problem,” his aunt chided.

“None whatever.” He turned his attention to Dulcie. “How are the Irish girl, and the little one?”

“They’re improving, thank you.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cal’s head swivel toward her, but she determinedly kept her gaze focused on his brother. She knew she was blushing, and that only made the color deepen. “Fiona isn’t alert yet, but her eyes opened once and she managed a few sounds. And Clara is awake, but she’s too weak to eat yet.”

“That’s good news—” Barc turned to his older brother “—isn’t it, Cal?”

“Mmm.” His brother took a sip of wine before asking, “What sort of sounds?”

“Moans, really.” Dulcie swallowed, remembering the look of pain that had crossed Fiona’s face when she’d responded to Dulcie’s voice. “And she squeezed my hand.”

“Yes, that’s a good sign.”

“I hope Fiona wakes up soon,” Emily chirped. “I miss her songs. And the funny stories she tells.”

“Do you remember the one—” Belle began, but Aunt Bessie cut her off.

“I do believe that children should be seen and not heard. Now sit up straight. And take your elbows off the table. As long as you are under my roof, you will learn the proper way a young lady comports herself.”

The two little girls looked crestfallen as they struggled to obey. The older woman glanced at Robert. At once he hurried to the kitchen and returned with a tray of food, which he carried around so that the people at the table could serve themselves.

Dulcie glanced at the dour man beside her. As strange as it seemed, she drew comfort from Cal’s simple words about Fiona’s moans. Despite his lack of manners and his cool, angry demeanor, despite that kiss, which had shaken her to her very core, there was about him an aura of knowledge and solid dependability. Though she was loath to admit it, she trusted his opinion.