Come Be My Love (9 page)

"I never played up to him," Sarah said. "I guess I just didn't discourage him as much as I should have." She squeezed her eyes tight and leaned forward as water cascaded over her hair and drained into the tub. She hadn't told Mandi everything about what had happened, only that Jon kissed her and that she hadn't exactly fought him off.

Mandi soaped her hair again. "Ah think
you's
sweet on him," she teased. Sarah didn't respond. The word
sweet
seemed incongruous. She couldn't banish thoughts of the intimate moment they'd shared: of the salty-sweet taste of his kiss, and the gamy aroma of leather and earth on his hands, and the raw male power behind his embrace. At first she'd been terrified, knowing too well the strength of a man moved by lust. Then, somehow, Jon calmed her fears. She wasn't certain how he'd done it, but the next moment she was allowing him to hold her while she stretched out with him on the ground. And it was so different from what happened in San Francisco...

"Well?"Mandi said, while scrubbing vigorously.

"Well what?"

"Are you sweet on him?"

Sarah shrugged. "I admit, I find him... attractive."

Mandi smiled and poured another pail of rinse water over Sarah's head. After Sarah's hair had drained and was wrapped in a soft flannel towel, Mandi asked, "What do you plan to do?"

Sarah stood. "About what?"

"About
startin
' your business."

"Nothing has changed," Sarah said. "Tomorrow, I plan to look for a building to lease so I'll be prepared when I have completed the papers for my license."

Mandi handed her another flannel towel. "You still
plannin
' on
lookin
' down near the waterfront?"

"Possibly. I saw several likely buildings when we were leaving the ship."

"Ida said that's where all the women keep
disappearin
'... that the last one went outside for a few minutes, even left clothes
boilin
' on the stove, and never came back. Ida said the police are
lookin
' for her but don't think there's much chance
findin
' her if she was shanghaied to the goldfields 'cause up there a woman's real easy to hide."

"I can't live in fear of what might happen," Sarah said. "If I’m able to find a store, I'll take it." Wrapped in a towel, she stepped out of the tub and onto a braided rug. While waiting for Mandi to bring a chemise and drawers, Sarah scanned the Berlin wool work hanging on the wall, and the antimacassars on the backs of the chairs, pieces Caroline Cromwell had done. Needlework, as she'd learned in school, was a respectable pastime for the leisure hours of a woman whereby she could show her love for her family. But she had no patience with the needle. Riding horses or chasing butterflies were much more appealing pastimes...

"The
guv'nor
sho
' is handsome," Mandi said, handing Sarah the drawers. "You
figurin
' on
ridin
' with him again?"

"Of course not," Sarah replied. "I only went with him to see the cottage." But she couldn't deny that merely thinking about the kiss they'd shared caused her heart to flutter, her breath to catch, and a warmth to spread through her. However, these new sensations would pass, and she refused to dwell on them. She had far more important things to consider.

After donning the chemise, she moved to the dressing table. While Mandi brushed her hair to dry it, she said, forlorn, "If you don’t have plans to ride with the
guv’nor
, then Ah '
spect
you won't be
seein
' much of him."

Sarah eyed Mandi in the mirror. "You're a hopeless romantic,” she said, “and I fully intend to discourage the man. He is, after all, the enemy." She caught the doleful look in Mandi's dark eyes. "All right, if it makes you happy, I might see him in town tomorrow morning. So, before I leave, I'd like you to arrange my hair in plaits, with the plaits encircling a chignon." She knew the style was particularly becoming, especially with the bonnet she planned to wear.

Mandi smiled. "It don't sound like
you's
tryin
' to discourage him," she teased.

Sarah dabbed a drop of oil of lavender behind each ear. "I am," she replied.

For a few moments Mandi said nothing, absorbed in working at a tangle in Sarah's hair. When the brush plowed freely, she caught Sarah's eyes in the mirror and said, "Ah didn't mention it but Ah met a handsome colored man at the baker's today. He said Ah was pretty, that
Ah'd
do any man proud by
bein
' his wife... that he '
spects
it won't be long 'fore someone snatches me up."

"Well, don't go falling for that nonsense," Sarah said. "Besides, you mustn't depend on a man for your happiness, or let a man deter you from accomplishing your goals. When we get the business started and you learn how to sew, you'll be independent of them."

"Ah don't know," Mandi mused. "
They's
pretty nice to have around on cold nights. And Ah '
spect
they'd be pretty nice for other things, too..."

While brushing Sarah's hair, Mandi continued chattering about the man she'd met. Oddly, as she talked, Sarah began to feel lonely, not the kind of loneliness that comes when a person is simply alone and wanting company, but the kind that settles in the heart and makes it feel heavy, yet empty. And with that loneliness came a longing for something she couldn't quite grasp.

That night, when she made her diary entry, she wrote:
Dear Diary, I refuse to believe that Jon is the cause of my loneliness because he simply does not fit into my plans. I cannot chance allowing a man into my life to betray me as every other man has done. The risk to my emotional well-being is too great, the consequence too devastating
.

***

The following day, Sarah left the bedroom as soon as Ida announced the arrival of a buggy from the livery. She’d dressed in a cotton walking dress for her trip to town to inquire about a building to lease. With haste, she scurried down the stairs, not wanting to meet Lady Cromwell in the hallway. After the episode at the cottage, she'd avoided the older woman, even claiming to be overly tired at dinnertime and retiring to her room early. But she knew she could not hide indefinitely, that eventually she'd have to face Jon's mother again.

Deciding it would not be now, she dashed out the front door, hastily walked down the wide steps leading from the porch, and stopped abruptly. Instead of finding the phaeton she'd ordered from the livery, she saw a landaulet waiting in the circular drive. A footman opened the door, and to Sarah's annoyance, Jon was sitting inside. Her first impulse was to turn and rush for the house. But glancing back, she saw the small, shadowy figure of Lady Cromwell standing at the parlor window. Collecting her skirts, she climbed into the carriage and squeezed in beside Jon, who sat in the middle of the seat. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"It's my rig."

"I ordered a phaeton."

"That's not what I was told."

Sarah fixed her eyes straight ahead. "You're supposed to be in your office right now."

"I was," Jon said, "but Esther told me you wanted a lift."

"Esther obviously misunderstood. I asked her to have the livery send a phaeton for me when she got to town," she said, trying to dismiss the vague feeling that Esther was throwing them together again. "I'd rather not be seen with you. You've caused me enough grief already, considering what happened on our ride to the cottage."

Jon leaned heavily against her, his breath brushing her temple as he said, "I agree, and I want to extend to you the olive branch of peace. I'm a blackguard and a lout, I behaved like a tomcat on the prowl, and even though we had a hellishly good time, the blame for the unfortunate outcome is entirely mine."

Sarah glanced at him and caught the flicker of wry amusement in his eyes. "I don't think you care one wit about the unfortunate outcome," she said. "It's not your reputation that's on the line."

"My reputation is always on the line," Jon said, "but I choose to ignore that, and you should do the same. Besides, since the damage is already done, we might as well make the best of it." He reached over and captured her hand with his.

"How?" Sarah demanded. "By venturing out together? I hardly think that will clear my name." She attempted to slip her hand from his but he held tight, and she didn’t try to be free. Nor did she care to analyze why she remained with Jon's hand covering hers.

Jon raised her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Perhaps you're right," he said. "I'll have the coachman drop me off at the legislature building then take you on to the land agent so you can inquire about buildings for let. That is what you want to do, isn't it?"

"Well, yes." Sarah eyed him dubiously. "Why are you being so accommodating?"

"Anything to further Mrs. Bloomer's cause," Jon said. "I admit, I'm devilishly attracted to at least some aspects of her
preachings
."

"You are? I find that surprising."

"Oh, I'm not exactly for Mrs. Bloomer's cause," Jon said, "only for her notion that women should expose their feet. Have you ever had a man nibble on your ankle or suckle your toes?"

"What!?"

"Your toes," Jon repeated, "each one carefully suckled while your foot and leg are being gently caressed. It's a very sensual experience."

Sarah stared, dumbfounded.

"You have admirable feet. Dainty toes and lovely ankles, and long, slender calves that demand a man's attention."

"Governor—"

"Jon."

Sarah pulled her hand from his and drew in a ragged breath to slow the erratic beating of her heart. "This conversation about my anatomy is totally inappropriate."

"You're absolutely right," Jon said. "Let's talk about our ride to the cottage instead." He reached for her hand again and curled his fingers around it, idly stroking her wrist with the pad of his thumb. "I cannot remember having a more enjoyable time than when we tumbled together in the woods."

Sarah stiffened. "We were not tumbling. You held me against my will and I was trying to get away from you."

Jon's lips curved in amusement. "Might I remind you that you stretched out with me on a bed of moss, then rolled on top of me, forcefully pinning me to the ground. I consider that tumbling, unless you're referring to what you were doing while perched atop me."

Heat prickled Sarah's face as she considered exactly what she had been doing. It certainly had not been trying to get free. But realizing it would not do well for Jon to believe otherwise, she said, "The trouble is, through the ages men have so intimidated women that women often submit to unwarranted physical advances when, in fact, they really don't want them."

"Like my holding your hand against your will?"

"Well, that too."

"Would you like me to release it?"

"Well, no, that's really not the point I'm trying to make. As I was saying, times are changing, and soon we women shall no longer be slaves to men."

Jon eyed her with amusement. "But think about the ways women enslave men," he said, raising her hand to his lips and planting a kiss against her palm.

Sarah's face grew hot. "I can't imagine any man being enslaved by a woman," she said, looking askance at him, "unless he's a timid mouse of a man whom no woman would want."

Jon nibbled her little finger. "You're wrong," he said. "The more virile a man, the more he can be enslaved by a woman. Take me, for example, and the issue of your feet."

"Governor!"

"Wait, hear me out."

Heart fluttering in anticipation of what Jon might say, Sarah sat silently, allowing him to kiss the inside of her wrist while she stared straight ahead, afraid to look into his eyes and see the magnetism she knew would be there.

"You removed your silk stockings in my presence—"

"I did no such thing! Your back was turned."

"In the vicinity of my perusal," Jon corrected. "I need only to have glanced back to see you lift your skirts and petticoats and roll your silk stockings down your lovely, smooth, white legs. But being a gentleman, of course, I refrained."

Sarah's face grew hot as she considered the gist of their conversation, a subject of which no proper lady spoke. "You are no gentleman," she said, "and I don't see what any of this has to do with a man being a slave to a woman."

"It’s really very simple." Jon brushed the pad of his thumb over the inside of her wrist and placed a kiss there. "After you removed your stockings, you teased me further by revealing your lovely feet and very shapely ankles, and after I lifted you in my arms you offered me your sweet lips while pressing your womanly body against me. Have you any idea what that sort of unleashed behavior does to a man?"

"Unleashed behavior! You forced yourself on me. And I most definitely did not offer you... anything." Sarah attempted to compose herself while twittering inside at the image Jon so vividly painted in her mind.

"You offered me a promise," Jon said, sliding her cuff up. He pressed a kiss against the inside of her arm. "And although I took advantage of the situation, overwhelmed with passion as I was, being a gentleman I could not use force. So you see, I am now your slave."