“Is something wrong?” Pearl angled her face up at Josiah. She looked like an angel with a broken heart. The torch made her hair look even more golden, her skin alabaster, and her blue eyes twinkled with wetness.
He had not welcomed her touch, or returned the warmth and press she offered him. It was hard not to. Her skin was soft, velvet, and made his fingers burn with the want of more of her touch . . . but he resisted.
“No,” Josiah said, stepping back away from her a couple of steps, pulling from her embrace, determined to jump on Clipper as quickly as he could and ride away as fast as he could. “I was just leaving.”
Clipper snorted, pawed at the straw, then returned to eating the oats luxuriously. Josiah stood back a foot or two from Pearl, unmoving.
Pearl wiped the tears from her eyes. For a brief second, Josiah thought he saw a flash of anger cross her face but decided it must have been a shadow when she looked at him square on.
“You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” Pearl asked.
“Why would I be angry with you?”
“Peter. I didn’t know he was going to be here. My mother arranged for him to be at the dinner without my knowledge.”
“She was the reason I didn’t want to accept your invitation in the first place,” Josiah said.
“I know. I thought I could handle her. But she is dead set on me marrying Peter Feders.”
Josiah nodded his head. “He’s a fine man, Pearl. You could do worse than being courted by a man like Pete. I’ve seen his courage and bravery more times than I can count.”
“You surely can’t mean that, Josiah.”
“I owe him my neck.”
Pearl took a step toward him then. “He’ll never have my heart.”
Josiah looked away. He could see the outline of her body, the curves and the mystery of it, because of the dancing flame behind her. Heat begin to rise from his toes—the coolness of the night hardly a concern now that she was near.
“I will never, ever marry Peter Feders, Josiah. You know that as well as I do—and you know why. I don’t care what trick my mother tries to play on me, what social obligation she tries to enforce, he is not the man for me.”
A flowery scent hit Josiah’s nostrils—springtime perfume, but he couldn’t pinpoint the fragrance, it wasn’t something he had ever encountered before. It mixed with his own musky smell, and the voice in the back of his head screamed at him to get out of the barn and run away from Pearl Fikes as quick as he could—before he lost control of all of his senses, control of parts of himself that he had forced to lie dormant for a long, long time.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Pearl.”
“Don’t be.” She stopped within inch of him, looked up with fully open eyes, and tilted her head toward him. “I’m not something that can be easily broken,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I’ve been lost before. Married before. You know that. I’m not lost now. I’m right where I want to be.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Pearl whispered.
Josiah slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He couldn’t resist her eyes, her acceptance and desire, any longer.
Their lips met in a hard hunger, more so than when they’d kissed on the porch of his home. Now they were alone, their desires growing and bordering on release.
Pearl arched into Josiah’s body, and at that very moment, he knew he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t hold back any longer, couldn’t control for one more second the desire he felt for her.
They made their way into the darkness of an empty stall, their hands searching each other’s body knowingly, confidently, not shyly—unbuttoning a shirt, tugging at a dress to feel more skin, each touch more comforting and familiar as they settled onto a soft bed of straw, never losing sight of the look in each other’s eyes, a deep blue ocean broken by a small island where they both sought refuge after a long, long, journey.
CHAPTER 33
The sun was just breaking over the cloudless horizon, warm, fuzzy yellow light slowly eating upward into the grayness of night. Somewhere in the distance, a robin began to chirp, not singing like in spring, but calling out for another of its kind. It only took a second for an answer to come back, farther away, but familiar—then the closest robin rejoiced, breaking into a song that was meant to announce its existence and location.
Morning was coming on gently, but Josiah was in no hurry to see the day fully arrive. He wanted time to stop, wanted to live in the private world he and Pearl had created over the past few hours, and live there for the rest of his life.
It was a world with no past or future, no responsibilities or consequences. It just was—of the moment—of need, desire, fulfillment, touch, and the rush of power rising deep from their loins and hearts. They were like animals, unleashed and unashamed of anything that was brought on by instinct. Their bodies had smashed together, then molded to each other. After that, discovery and pleasure were the only things that mattered.
Love and longing were not mentioned. Their physical attraction had long since been judged as mutual—there was no indecision getting in the way of their need to touch and be touched. They both had trudged through a long, lonely desert. Whatever lay ahead for them, individually and together, was buried deep, for the moment, in the recesses of their minds that held out hope for ecstasy. Reality was completely out of reach.
There would be time enough for expectations, for the world to have its say about what had happened between them. Time for regret, if it came, or embarrassment or shame, for that matter.
But that time was not now.
Josiah wanted to stay joined as one with Pearl for as long as he could, feel her welcoming warmth—take pleasure in her heavy breath, committing it solidly to memory in case he was ever sentenced, by himself or another, to that lonely desert again.
“I really have to go,” Josiah whispered.
Pearl opened her eyes and stared at him. They were face-to-face, Josiah gently on top of her, hesitating to move. She shook her head. “No.” Her arms around his waist, she pulled him tighter against her.
Josiah buried his face in her neck, tempted to stay longer, wanting nothing more than to add another moment to their night. He pulled back though. Pearl whimpered as he did, closing her eyes, looking away. Sadness was interrupting their world. It was hard telling what emotion would come next—from either one of them.
He stood up slowly.
Pearl lay naked on a quickly made heap of horse blankets, her hair sprawled out underneath her head, her body perfect. She was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. Even more so when she opened her eyes again—the sadness gone, replaced with need, begging him one last time to stay.
Josiah never wanted to forget how Pearl looked at the moment—longing for him to stay, to come back to her. The image would make the miles he had to travel a little easier, he thought.
“What if you never come back?” Pearl asked in a husky whisper.
Josiah exhaled deeply. “Then we’ll both be glad we had this night.”
“Don’t go.”
“I have to. Nobody I care about is safe as long as Liam O’Reilly is a free man. That includes you. He seems to have eyes everywhere.” Josiah found his long johns and began to put them on.
Pearl sat up, pulling straw from her hair, covering herself with one of the blankets.
The air was cool but not cold. Light was creeping its way into the barn, and Pearl glowed like a mythical creature, or Penelope on that last day before Odysseus set out for Troy.
Josiah’s mother had loved the Greek stories, and they had read them together when Josiah was in his early teens. He hadn’t thought about that for a long time, and the memory made him warm and glad that he had a comparison to make, a story to latch on to, though that journey was a long one. Josiah hoped to return a lot sooner than his fictional counterpart.