Seven Brides - Fern Part 21

Her expression of guilty concern almost caused him to smile. It also made him feel better. He didn't mind her feeling a little ashamed of what she'd said. It showed she had come to care about his feelings as much as he cared about hers.

Neither did he mind that she seemed concerned she had upset him. She had been keeping him at a distance ever since they met. This just might be the wedge he needed to break through the wall she had built around herself.

And he did intend to break through. Like a fragile sea creature, Fern had encased herself in a sh.e.l.l so tough no one had been able to crack it.

But Madison had set his heart on claiming that treasure. And he meant to do so tonight.

Chapter Fourteen.

Fern wished she could unsay her words. Madison looked crushed.

No, he never looked crushed. Disappointed or upset, but nothing could crush this man. If he didn't accept what you told him, he would try to change it.

But he did look hurt, and she was as mystified at his reaction as she was shocked. It didn't make sense unless he liked her a lot. But the way he talked, that seem unlikely.

Yet he must. Otherwise he wouldn't be telling her all the things he liked about her. His idea of sweet-talk wouldn't sweep a woman off her feet, but then Fern didn't want to be swept away. She just wanted to feel pretty, desirable, to be liked.

Fern's attention was caught by a man walking slowly down the street. He didn't stop, but he kept glancing in their direction. She was glad she had refused to let Madison teach her to dance. She didn't recognize the man, but she was certain he'd have spread the news over half the town before midnight.

''Rose says Monty's cow crazy," Fern said. "I could never like a man who preferred cows to women."

Madison relaxed, but his hand stayed away from her neck.

"What was I saying?" he asked.

"That my dimples kept me from looking like a crazed drover, though how that's supposed to be an improvement on being compared to a heifer I don't know."

Madison chuckled easily.

"I threw that in just for fun. I thought you might be getting too satisfied with yourself."

Fern squared up to Madison. "You tell me my face looks like old parchment, that no self-respecting woman would parade about in these clothes, that everything I've said, thought, or done in my whole life is wrong, and you have the gall to say I might be becoming too set up in my own conceit. That gives me a very strange notion of the women you consort with."

Madison laughed again and pulled her back against the bench.

She loved his touch. His magical touch. This time he was more adventurous. His arm moved around her shoulder, his fingers gently teasing the flesh beneath her shirt.

Fern had never suspected that skin could be so sensitive to the slightest touch, the barest pressure, the smallest change in warmth. It seemed as though every part of her mind had focused on her shoulder.

"You are the most peculiar man," Fern said, trying to decide if this was a lover-like declaration or if she was crazy to think she had heard a caress in his voice. She had no experience with men, nothing but instinct to guide her. George didn't behave this way with Rose, and no one could doubt that he worshiped his wife.

Madison's body remained unbending, but the distance between them seemed to be shrinking. She could almost feel the softening in his eyes. All the while his fingers were saying things to her his lips never had.

Then she realized that it was just as hard for him to admit to feeling any deep emotion as it was for her to admit she was a woman subject to all a woman's wants and needs. He might not even know he felt something out of the ordinary for her, but she did. She could see it in his eyes.

His arm closed around her, pulling her gradually to him. "I also said I liked your gumption. I think I like you best when you're a little angry and can't decide whether you want to hit me or ride me down."

"What kind of man would prefer a woman like that?" she asked. Clearly his wits were addled. She hoped they would stay that way for a little while longer.

"I don't know," he replied, apparently as mystified as she. "Certainly not the kind of man I thought I was. It seems that Kansas is bringing out my protective instincts."

"Didn't anybody in Boston need protecting?"

"Not like you."

"Me! From what?"

"Yourself, your father, this town. And something else you won't tell me about. What is it? Your father may overwork you, but he would protect you."

Fern noticed that man again. He was coming back up the street. He seemed to be walking slower this time. He was definitely watching them. A tiny shiver ran down her spine. She was glad Madison was here. She found his presence comforting.

"I can't tell you," she said.

"Why not?"

"Some things are too hard to explain."

For a moment, Madison looked as though he wasn't going to honor her wish for privacy. But unexpectedly his gaze softened, and Fern felt he was suddenly offering her a bottomless wellhead of understanding.

"It's time you started being a woman and being proud of it. Your father probably won't like it at first, but he'll get used to it. He might even grow to be proud of having a daughter like you."

Fern felt a nearly overwhelming urge to throw her arms around his neck and cry, but she resisted the impulse. Men never cried, and they hated crying women.

"What about you?" she said, hoping to focus attention on him until she could bring herself under control.

Instead of answering, he took her by the shoulders and turned her so her face was out of the deepest shadows.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying."

"Okay, why are you not crying like that?"

"You're not making any sense," she said, a choke of laughter forcing its way through her tight throat.

"Neither are you."

"Females don't have to make sense. Didn't you know that?"

"I didn't mean to say anything to hurt you."

"You didn't. It was already there."

Instead of asking more questions or a.s.suring her that everything would be all right, he pulled her close and put his arms around her. With gentle strength, he drew her resisting body forward until her shoulder rested against his chest.

"That's the worst kind of hurt, when it's there all the time," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

It was the understanding in his voice that made her relax against him. He knew how she felt because he felt the same way. Madison understood that her resistance had nothing to do with being strong. It simply had to do with being. Her doubt wasn't something that would go away. It would always be there, and it would always hurt.

But if she could find a shield that would never leave her, would never wear out, would be so strong and tough that nothing could penetrate it, maybe it wouldn't always hurt so much.

She didn't know what that shield might be, but if she ever found it, she hoped it had something to do with being in Madison's arms. Never in her life had she felt so safe and protected.

All her life, people had wanted her to change to suit them. But now, resting against Madison, his arms around her, she knew he wasn't wishing she were different. He knew where his arms were and was content for them to be there.

She knew he was being gentle with her because of her ribs, but even as she felt a twinge of pain, she wished he would hold her closer, harder. She longed to feel so tightly bound that nothing could ever tear her loose.

She felt her arms slowly encircle Madison's waist. She didn't direct them to do so. They just did it on their own.

It was a strange feeling.

Fern had never been held by a man. Uneasiness and expectation heightened the wondrous feeling of contentment until she felt she had found the answer to her every question.

But putting her arms around Madison was even more wonderful. He felt strong and st.u.r.dy, as though nothing could shake him. After a life of compromise built upon the shifting sands of human emotion, it was like finding herself come to rest on a monolith.

She was in safe harbor. She was home.

Madison's kiss was soft, his touch tender, but his embrace had all the rea.s.surance of solid rock. There was a sweet persuasiveness about his kisses that Fern found irresistible. She liked being coaxed to do exactly what she wanted.

Madison placed cool kisses on her waiting lips, but her willing compliance soon turned his coolness to heat. He covered her face with pa.s.sionate kisses. Fern had never heard of a man kissing eyelids and ears, but she found she liked it very much.

She found it hard to believe that Madison, who could be so abrasive, abrupt, and dispa.s.sionately critical, could throw aside all his reluctance to show emotion and act so lover-like. He had changed as much as she had.

Sometime, somehow she had worked her woman's magic on him until he forgot he disapproved of her, forgot so completely he wanted to kiss her instead. It gave her a much more wonderful feeling of power than roping and throwing a steer ever had.

But his power over her was just as revolutionary.

She had never wanted to be pretty for some man. She had never wanted to be held close or to feel protected. She'd never thought she would like being kissed, not even casually, certainly not in the energetic way Madison was now employing.

She gasped with surprise when he forced her teeth apart and his tongue invaded her mouth. She was certain that n.o.body in Kansas did that. She had a deliciously exciting feeling that it was highly improper, that even the soiled doves would disapprove. But after a moment's hesitation, she found she liked that, too. Her'tentative parry to his thrust caused his tongue to plunge deep into her mouth.

The pain in her ribs told her that Madison was holding her too tightly, but she didn't care. It was a small price to pay to nestle in the comforting circle of his arms.

But everything changed when he pulled her into a closer embrace, when their bodies came together, chest against chest, thigh against thigh. It acted as a signal, an alarm, a tocsin.

From somewhere deep inside her, the fear that had lurked there for eight years awakened. Even as she leaned into Madison's embrace, even as she longed to lose herself in his arms, she felt her muscles begin to stiffen. Panic reared like an angry monster roused from a deep sleep. It routed the budding excitement that skittered along her nerve endings when she felt her b.r.e.a.s.t.s press against his chest. It evaporated the slightly nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach when their bodies touched from hip to knee. It robbed her of the comfort she found in the circle of his arms.

In its stead came an imperative need to break away from the prison of his arms. She felt her body stiffen, her muscles bunch for a supreme effort.

She tried to tell herself she trusted Madison, that he would never harm her, but her trust was too new, too untried to survive the onslaught of her fears. She must be free.

Even as she raised her hands to push him away, she searched her mind for an excuse. Madison would demand a reason. She couldn't tell him. She could never tell anyone.

Then she saw the man coming back down the street.

"There's a man across the street staring at us," Fern said as she pulled out of Madison's arms. "This is the third time he's come by."

For a moment Madison seemed unable to focus on anything beyond her, but when he at last looked across the street, his body immediately became taut with suppressed energy. He pulled his watch from his pocket.

"He's come," he said excitedly, almost jumping to his feet.

"Who's come?"

"The man who can prove that Hen didn't kill your cousin."

Madison had already forgotten her. All he could think about was Hen. She looked across at the man. "Are you sure it's safe?" If the man was willing to give evidence, she didn't understand why he wouldn't come out of the shadows.

"No, but I can't throw this chance away because of something that might happen. Will You be all right until George and Rose return?"

The last of the magic moment vanished. Madison was his old efficient, energetic self once more, and she was just someone he was talking to.

"If I need help, I'll call Mrs. Abbott."

Madison smiled absently, clearly anxious to be gone. "A formidable weapon."

"Go before he changes his mind," Fern urged. "You'd never forgive me if I caused you to miss gathering a piece of evidence."

Madison turned back, a bemused look on his face. "You have no idea how much I might be persuaded to forgive you," he said. For a moment, Fern thought he would linger, would say something else, but he turned and went down the steps and along the walk. The moment he left her side, the man across the street disappeared between two houses. Fern's apprehension grew. If this man feared for his safety so much he wasn't willing to meet Madison even on a dark street, what kind of danger might Madison be in?

He had become very precious to her, very necessary. He had given new meaning to her life. Under the influence of his attention, his prodding, she had been reborn, had begun to feel like the woman she should have been. He was her champion, her talisman. He was her life.

She loved Madison.

A cold chill knifed through her, leaving her feeling sick and miserable. What good would it do to love him if she couldn't stand for him to touch her? She couldn't keep him at arm's length forever. He wouldn't accept it. She didn't want him to.

She could never be his wife.

But that was what she wanted to be. She saw it as clearly as if she were standing by his side, exchanging their vows.

p.i.s.s and vinegar! What was she going to do now?

As Madison followed the man into the darkness between the houses, his mind was more on where he had been than where he was going.

He hadn't intended to put his arms around Fern; neither had he planned to kiss her as if he were starved for the feel of a woman. He tried to tell himself it was something he would have done with any of several women, but he knew it wasn't true. He tried to tell himself that Fern was upset, that she needed comforting, that there was nothing unusual in his wanting to give comfort, but he knew that wasn't true either.

He had wanted to do much more than comfort her, more than sit with his arms around her. A simple kiss wasn't nearly enough.

It ought to have been too much.

He emerged from between the houses and started up Spruce Street.

He really shouldn't find her so irresistible. He would love to take her back to Boston and turn her into a respectable young woman. He could hear her screams of protest now. Just thinking about it made him smile.