“I prefer to come lick and see.”
Spring shivered with the promise he exuded. “You’re way too good at this.”
“Part of the art.”
“One day you’ll have to tell me where you learned this.”
He knelt in front of her, gently fit her hips in his hands, and eased her closer to the sofa’s edge. “A gentleman never tells.” After gifting her with a long kiss, he ran his hands languidly up and down her firm thighs before placing his lips gently against each sparkling garter. “Youready to take your punishment?” He slipped a finger into her core and then a second. She tightened and moaned. “Yes.”
And he began with touches and licks and a magic display of art that soon had her hips rising. He feasted; she gasped passionately. He told her all the wicked things he had in store for later, and she was certain she’d die from the pleasuring. It didn’t take long for her orgasm to build and rise inside like a sensual mountain. He made her mindless, whimper, grab his head, twist and turn, and when he gave her a tiny but fiery little bite on the nub at the apex of her thighs, the mountain shattered and she screamed his name loud enough to be heard by the stars in the night sky.
Driven by their rising passion, they made love all over the cabin; on her dining table, in the tub where they’d gone to clean up, and then in his bed. And for each encounter Spring used her sponges. As they lay together by the light of the turned-down lamp in the aftermath of yet another round, he said softly, “If I was a wealthy man, I’d give you rubies to thread in your hair. Put diamonds on each fingertip and garnets on your toes.” Swirling his finger lightly over her navel, he murmured, “And here, I’d put a sapphire.”
Spring’s heart soared in response to his tender words.
“I’d drape you in jewels, because you are my jewel, Spring Rain.”
She whispered, “You don’t have to say those kinds of things to me, Garrett.”
“They’re not to you. They’re for me. It’s how I feel. It’s a declaration, a statement, a truth.”
His eyes met hers in the glow of the lamp. “You are diamond-hard in mind and spirit. You glow inside with the fire of rubies. And you’re as vibrant as a sapphire when we make love.”
He eased her closer so that her back was against his chest, then draped an arm over her waist as he placed a kiss against the edge of her shoulder. “I want you with me always, Spring. I want to wake up each morning and see your smile. I want to hunt with you and fish with you. I want to have babies with you that are freeborn instead of slavery-born like I was. Little Springs who ride horses—”
Spring eased away from his arms and sat up. She glanced over her shoulder at him then away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Her heart aching, she knew they had to discuss this, so she said, “I don’t want children, Garrett.”
He sat up. She looked back and saw the confusion filling his features.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Are you saying you can’t?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want children. I never have.”
“But—”
“I love you very much, but I’m not going to give you those freeborn babies, and I won’t apologize for being who I am, or change my mind.”
He searched her face for a long moment then fell back onto the mattress like a sail losing its wind.
In the thick silence that followed, she sat there for a few moments, waiting to see if he had anything else to say, but he didn’t speak. Resigned, she stood, left the room, and closed the door behind her.
Garrett awakened in the dark early hours before dawn to the sound of heavy rain pelting the roof and windows. Not happy at the prospect of having to ride to town in a downpour, he nevertheless got up. He had a train to catch.
He wanted to speak with Spring first though. He’d lain awake most of the night thinking about her revelation. He’d felt gutted, still did,but didn’t want to leave with them at odds. Tired and bleary from too little sleep, he took care of his morning needs, got dressed, and went to her room. The door was closed so he knocked softly. When no response came he knocked again, this time more firmly. Nothing. Concerned, he eased the door open just wide enough to peek inside and was met by the perfectly made up bed but no Spring. He listened for her moving around in the front room. Getting a bad feeling he went to the kitchen and found it just as empty and silent. Frantic, he called her name, then grabbed his slicker from the peg and ran through the cold rain to the barn. Paint, Lady, and Sunrise were in their stalls but the stallion wasn’t. She was gone. Where to, he didn’t know, but sensed it had to do with last night. Disheartened, he returned to the cabin. Only then did he see the folded piece of paper on the dining table. His name was printed on the front side. Picking it up, he read:
I didn’t want say goodbye. Thank you for loving me and showing me that I can love in return. Have a safe trip home. Spring.
Filled with emotion, he debated whether or not to stay and wait for her to return but hedidn’t know how long that might be or if she’d be happy to find him there when she did come home. He kicked himself for not talking to her last night before she slipped out of the room, but he didn’t know what to say. Still didn’t. So he packed up his belongings. Before leaving, he tore a sheet of paper from his journal and wrote her a note in reply. He placed it solemnly in the spot on the table where his had been. With that done, he took one last look around the place that had come to be home, filled himself up with the memories he’d made, and stepped out into the rain for the cold, wet ride back to town.
Up on the ridge, protected from the weather by her slicker and flat-crowned hat, Spring watched the watery dawn try and pinken the slate-gray sky. She supposed Garrett was gone by now and she could return home. She’d had too many conflicting emotions to pretend things were okay while wishing him a cheery goodbye, so she’d left. She hoped he found her note though. It said all she needed to say. They’d had a good time as partners, and she’d remember him fondly, but she didn’t think he’d be coming back to Paradise.
When she returned home, she checked the table where she’d left the note and was surprisedto see a different one in its place. Taking a deep breath, she picked it up, unfolded it, and read:Until the mountains are nomoreI will love you. G.
Spring prided herself on being someone who never cried but his words made her drop into the nearest chair and weep.