one of her ankles, propped her foot on the dashboard, pushed his finger inside her. She moaned. He dipped his head. Feasted on her. Sent her thundering to her orgasm.
For a horny teenage boy, he knew his way around a woman’s body, and the second time he sent her crashing with the heel of his hand. When she recovered, she drew her foot down from the dashboard and gazed over at him. He was breathing hard.
And he didn’t even have his pants unzipped.
She made no move to change that. Instead, she pulled her skirt down. What a bitch she was. A tease.
The door locks snapped open, and his voice was hoarse. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
After what he’d just done for her-what she hadn’t done for him-she should be agreeable. “It’s too cold.”
“You can have my sports coat. Believe me, I don’t need it.”
“I guess.”
He leaned across her and pulled a flashlight from the glove compartment.
“You Boy Scouts,” she said, doing her best to sound bored.
He climbed out. She had no panty hose, no panties. She slipped her bare feet into her shoes and waited like the good Southern girl she wasn’t for him to open her door. As he did, she gazed directly at his bulging crotch. Poor baby.
He draped his jacket around her shoulders and took her arm. She was wearing heels and the ground was soft, so she balanced her weight on the balls of her feet. He drew her toward the woods. She smelled pine and the dankness of the lake.
He switched on the flashlight and played it over the trunks of the trees. “It’s around here somewhere.”
Under her skirt, the cool air tickled her bare bottom. If she kept on like this, she’d develop a reputation. Slutty Winnie Davis.
“Wait here.”
He moved off without her, flashlight in hand, inspecting the tree trunks like some horny forest ranger. Finally, he found what he wanted. “Over here.”
He’d stopped at the base of a big oak. She waddled over-high heels, short skirt, bare bottom, all-around bimbo.
He dropped the flashlight to his side, illuminating the toe of one of his loafers. “I don’t see anything,” she said.
He raised his arm and shined the light on the trunk in front of him.
She saw it then, the dim outline of a heart carved into the bark. The letters had grown gray and weathered by time, but they were still legible:
She reached out and traced the
“We heard a rumor that these oaks could live for a thousand years,” he said, “and we believed it. Sugar Beth said that as long as our initials were in this tree, we’d love each other forever.”
“Forever’s a long time.”
“Not so long.” He smiled and drew out his pocketknife. With the flashlight in one hand and his knife in the other, he chipped away the
He slipped his knife back into his pocket and caressed her cheek. “I’m not sorry for all those ugly things I said to you last week. Not one of them is true anymore, but they were true once, and I’m glad I said them.”
“You should have said them fourteen years ago.”
“I was afraid. You always seemed so fragile.”
“Not too fragile to figure out how to trap you. I didn’t have much self-respect.”
“We were kids.”
“I was needy and desperate, not a nice thing to remember.”
“I remember that you were the sweetest girl I’d ever known.”
She turned her face into his hand and kissed the palm. “A woman shouldn’t idolize the man she marries.”
That made him smile. “We sure don’t have that problem now.” With no warning, he took her hands and said the most astonishing thing. “Winnie Davis, will you marry me? I’d get down on one knee, but I don’t want you fussin’ at me for getting mud on my good slacks.”
She laughed. “You’re proposing to me?”
“I am. Of my own free will.”
Blossoms of happiness unfurled inside her, and her smile took over her face. “Do I have to give you an answer right now?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“You’re just doing this so I’ll let you go all the way, aren’t you?”
“Partly. You set me on fire, love.”
She laughed again, looped her arms around his neck, and the flashlight fell to the ground as she kissed him.
He slipped his hands under her skirt and cradled her bottom. “I love you, sweetheart. You’re everything to me. Please tell me you believe that.”
“Convince me.”
“Can I convince you naked, or do I have to write a poem or something?”
“Naked will do for right now, but a poem would be nice in the future.”
He laughed, let her go, and headed back to the car where he retrieved a blanket. As he returned to her, she said, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Not like this. Not ever like this.”
At that moment, standing in the damp leaves and matted pine needles with the smell of the lake in her nostrils, she felt the full force of his love for her. The elephant had disappeared; the ghosts had gone off to haunt someone else. They had a love that could be counted on. A love that wouldn’t disappear at the sight of a less-than-perfect meal or fade away under the onslaught of a cranky mood. A love that could even handle a good fight.
She reached for the zipper of her skirt, then stopped. “Sometimes I don’t feel like making love. Sometimes I just want to be by myself, to take a bath and read a magazine.”
“All right.” The corners of his mouth curled. “But please tell me this isn’t one of those times.”
She smiled and let her skirt fall.
GEORGETTE HEYER,
CHAPTER TWENTY
Winnie waited until they reached town before she told him. “You’re not going to like this.”
“Honey, there’s not a single thing you could say to me tonight that I wouldn’t like.”
“I can’t go home with you yet.”
He hit the brake. “Okay. You found the
“I know it sounds crazy, but I need to stay with Sugar Beth for a while longer.”
“Crazy doesn’t begin to describe it.” He pulled to the side of the road, turned off the ignition, and draped his arm over the back of her seat. She extracted a leaf fragment from his hair, just above his temple. He kissed her fingers, but he didn’t look happy. “Sugar Beth is poison, Winnie.”
