Beguiled Read online

  Uncle Hewlett eyed the goat. “Don’t give me any trouble, you grand rascal.”

  I could have sworn I saw Jeff grin. Straightening and stretching, I breathed in the scent of late summer, of tired leaves and cool clay. As Uncle Hewlett cautiously led Jeff toward the springhouse, my thoughts turned once more to what had happened with Alice last night.

  As I walked back to the big house, I stared at the rushing water in the creek, mesmerized by the ripples and the rich hues of browns and greens. Alice had touched me between the legs. And I had let her. I bit my bottom lip. What did it mean? Had I committed a sin? Had I been unfaithful to Dalton?

  Confused, I struggled to think clearly as my rampant mind ran in a thousand directions. All those times Alice watched me and studied me flitted through my head. Now, I recognized the look I’d seen in her eyes that had unnerved me. Desire.

  A chill shook my spine.

  Desire.

  I gulped. Alice desired me? A woman? Someone of her own sex?

  I’d often seen buck goats in rut attempt to copulate with each other. I knew the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, but I had assumed only males engaged in that type of activity.

  The right thing to do would be to set Alice straight, to tell her that I’d made a mistake in allowing her to touch me in such a manner. But even now, my thighs warmed and my channel clenched at the thought of feeling her hand between my legs again.

  These years without Dalton had been long and torturous.

  Was I so wrong to seek physical pleasure in such an innocent way? After all, Alice was a woman. It wasn’t as if I could fall in love with another woman. What had happened between us was merely two women comforting each other in the dark.

  I nodded.

  That’s all.

  Comfort.

  Lost in my thoughts, I went in the house and climbed the stairs only to be shocked back to reality when I discovered Alice standing in front of the mirror with my shears. A dusting of auburn hair littered the floor.

  “What are you doing?” I cried.

  “Cutting my hair,” she replied simply.

  “But I thought… I assumed you’d want it to grow now that you’re no longer trying to pretend to be a man,” I said.

  She smirked. “Hell no. I like it short.” She snipped off another lock.

  I blew out a breath. “Give me those shears. You’ll end up looking like you’ve got the mange.”

  I drew a nearby chair up for her and helped her to sit. I’d cut Dalton’s hair and knew how to do it, but I could not comprehend why she’d want to look like a man now that there was no longer a need for it.

  “Why on earth would you cut your hair?” I asked, combing through her thick locks. “The color is so lovely, and it would be stunning long.”

  “I like it short just like I like wearing breeches,” she quipped.

  I rolled my eyes and then pinned her with a stare in the mirror. “Alice, you can’t keep pretending you’re a man.”

  “Who’s pretending?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I just don’t like long hair.”

  Her gaze caressed my own hair, and then she added, “On me.”

  Giving in, I snipped and trimmed and combed until her hair was as short as any man’s. I loved the feel of her soft, short hair. I even liked the incongruous hard lines of her face offset by those decidedly feminine lips.

  “Belle,” she began, and my heart skipped a beat at her serious tone.

  “Yes?”

  “What we did last night… I’ve done it before,” she said softly. “With a woman.”

  I wasn’t ready to hear about that. Women making love to other women…

  That was not what I’d done. She merely comforted me when I was upset. Hadn’t she? “I don’t judge you,” I snapped. I sounded harsher than I’d intended.

  “It’s why—” she began, but I quickly interrupted.

  “Alice, it doesn’t matter. Not to me.” My cheeks burned with a blush, so I made a big pretense of putting the scissors away while she admired her reflection.

  I didn’t want to admit it to myself or anyone else, but Alice did possess a very unique sort of beauty—a beauty that intrigued me. I swallowed. Hers was a dangerous, bold beauty that lured me to entertain sinful thoughts.

  To want to know more about what she’d done with other women.

  “Thank you, Belle,” she said, lifting her gaze to mine in the mirror.

  Again, the look of desire shone in her eyes. My stomach turned a somersault, and I struggled with my own physical yearning to be touched again. Why hadn’t the one time sated me? My gaze flicked briefly to her lips, and I wondered what it would be like to feel them against my own, plying, pressing, kissing…

  Blinking, I forced the lustful thoughts away and went to the chest of drawers. “You can’t go about the house in that nightgown, and if you’re opposed to wearing a dress, you might as well wear some of Dalton’s clothes.” My voice seemed higher pitched than usual, and I chattered as fast as a squirrel corned by a cat.

  “There’s a belt in here somewhere,” I said, rummaging. I sounded nervous. “Ah, here it is.”

  But when I gathered up the clothes and turned, I froze at the sight. Alice stood waiting, stark naked. It was an invitation—one I didn’t know if I was ready to accept.

  Boldly, my eyes traveled down her body, lingering on her small breasts with their dark peach nipples and lower, down her lean torso to the sparse copse of dark auburn curls at the juncture of long, coltish legs. For someone who’d hidden herself from view for the past two years, she seemed terribly comfortable with her nudity now.

  The bandage on her thigh appeared clean. At least she no longer bled. And when I saw that she continued to heal, my thoughts turned dark and lustful.

  She cleared her throat, and my guilty gaze shot to hers. My stomach tensed. Her stormy eyes had grown dark. “Put the clothes on the bed, Belle.”

  I didn’t argue. I didn’t say a word. Instead, I did as Alice bade me. My pulse stampeded in my veins. Every hair on my body prickled.

  The floorboards creaked when she took a step closer. “Pull up your skirts, and bend over the bed.”

  I should refuse. I should walk away from this. It was one thing to allow her to touch me in the dark but quite another to submit to it in broad daylight—knowing she’d been with a woman before—knowing I’d gladly be with her again.

  Anticipation thrummed through my veins as I gathered my skirts higher and higher. Alice moved in behind me. “Bend over, Belle,” she whispered as she arranged my skirts with care.

  Air wafted in through the slit in my drawers. I trembled as she braced one hand on the base of my spine.

  “Spread your legs, sweetheart,” she said, the hint of her brogue evident.

  Walk away. Don’t submit to this. I inched my feet farther apart. Alice voiced her approval as she worked her hand into the slit of my pantalets. Heat radiated from her hand when she cupped my mound. I quivered and spread my thighs even more. Already, my channel grew damp awaiting her invasion.

  I bit my bottom lip.

  Alice tickled my wanton flesh with her fingertips. “Tell me what you want.” One of her fingers prodded my opening. I pushed back, wanting the digit inside me, but a sudden smack on my bottom made me yelp.

  Heat blazed through my backside. Immediately, rage filled me, but when her hand plunged into my drawers again, my fury melted. “Now, tell me what you want,” Alice ground out.

  “Y-your finger,” I stammered. I dropped my head down on the mattress, exposing my bottom even more. How could I submit to this reckless sort of thing with such willful abandon?

  A sigh of delight escaped my lips when she gave me what I’d asked for. Her finger thrust into my sheath. Liquid pooled in my channel and then trickled down one of my thighs.

  “Do you want two fingers?” Her voice was rough. Hoarse. “Do you want it to feel like a man fucking you?”

  “Yes.”

  A second finger joined the first, s
tretching me to capacity. I cried out at the curious sensation of pleasure mingled with pain. I thrived on it. I loved it. I wanted more. “Harder,” I heard myself say.

  I was totally at her mercy, bent and spread for her and more than willing to allow her to assault my cunny with her fingers. She controlled me, and the surrender I experienced at giving myself over to her completely vindicated me. Absolved me. It swept me away from the trials and worries that plagued me. “Harder, Alice,” I managed through gritted teeth.

  “Damn, Belle. You’re wet.”

  She worked her fingers harder and faster than Dalton had ever dreamed of fucking me. I debated begging her to stop. The words hung on my tongue, but I forced myself to take it. I wanted to take it. At that moment, I would have done anything Alice asked of me for the pleasure I would receive at her hand.

  “Do you like my fingers up your hot little cunny?” Alice asked.

  When I didn’t immediately answer, her palm found my ass cheek again. The sting burned and then melted into a delicious throb. I yelped and moaned. “Yes, yes!”

  The hand that had so recently popped my bottom tangled into my chignon. She pulled my head up with unthinking force. I cried out—louder than I should have. The fingers between my legs pistoned me relentlessly. Arching, I clawed at the covers. My knees quaked. I’d never been dominated like this.

  I loved it.

  As soon as I surrendered, violent spasms racked me from the inside out. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out again. My channel clenched in frenzied convulsions around Alice’s fingers. I spiraled, soaring on the sensual sensations emanating from my loins.

  Alice’s intrusion slowed and gentled. She released my hair. How did she know I’d quickened? I wilted over the bed, luxuriating in the heavy sexual satisfaction pulsating through me.

  She cupped me and caressed my sex, working her fingers through my swollen nether lips as if she were in love with that part of me. A jolt shot through my loins when she rubbed a drenched fingertip over my throbbing clitoris. I let out a whimper.

  Alice chuckled softly and patted my ass. “Help me get these breeches on.”

  Unable to speak, I nodded. I’d never felt so awkward and aroused and confused around a nude woman before. Shaking, I stood, letting my skirts fall back into place. Although my clothes now concealed my body and no one would know what I’d just allowed another woman to do to me, my damp pantalets rubbed against my thighs, an ever-present reminder of a stolen, secret moment of sin.

  Unable to meet her eyes, I unfolded the shirt, then moved behind her so I could help her slip it on. Inadvertently, my fingers brushed her skin, and I circled her to begin fastening the buttons. She let me. I didn’t doubt she’d let me do far more if I only ventured to try it.

  She watched me so intently, and I trembled so badly I could hardly work the tiny buttons into the holes. The backs of my fingers burned in contact with her collarbone, the flat hollow between her breasts, and the silken skin of her tummy.

  It was a mistake. Alice, I should never have—

  But I couldn’t utter the words. Even now, I longed to run my hands around her waist and lift my lips to hers. Would she kiss me back, or would she be repulsed? My heart skittered as I imagined touching her the way she’d just touched me. What would it be like to explore another woman’s femininity?

  My face heated. The back of my neck sweltered. I felt faint. Finally, I’d fastened the endless row of buttons. I picked up the breeches and bent low, holding them open for her. I avoided looking at the auburn tuft of hair at the apex of her thighs.

  Bracing her hand on my shoulder, she stepped into each leg with difficulty. Slowly, I pulled the fabric up her legs, my thumbs brushing her legs the entire way up. She held up the shirttail as I fastened the buttons. My channel tightened when my fingers grazed her curls.

  Touch her. Is she as wet as I am? Oh God in heaven, just touch her. Reach between her legs and…

  “Belle?” she said, and my heart literally skipped a beat.

  My eyes met hers.

  Her lips parted, and I hung on the moment, waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to bring up what had happened between us. Her gaze warmed, and her pupils enlarged. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I mean, thank you. For the clothes. For the food. For…everything.”

  Fearing what might happen if I didn’t, I stumbled a step backward and nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  You’re welcome? I felt like an utter fool. I had to get out of her presence. I didn’t know what was happening to me. Tense, I walked to the door but stopped. “Pa broke his leg a couple of years ago. I think there’s a crutch in the attic. I’ll see if I can find it for you.”

  * * *

  As soon as Belle left the room, Alice dropped onto the side of the bed and blew out a sigh. She lifted her hand to rake it through her short hair but stopped at her lips. Closing her eyes, she pressed her cream-coated fingers to her mouth, breathing in the scent and flicking her tongue over the digits to taste Belle.

  Alice knew from Belle’s passionate reaction that she would go all the way with her, and the knowledge that the prim, proper southern lady would spread her legs for another woman drove Alice mad with desire.

  Her mouth went cotton dry at the thought of Belle lifting all those frilly petticoats and then beckoning her to touch her—taste her. Alice tried to swallow but couldn’t. She’d seen the look of desire in Belle’s eyes. The curiosity to explore, to not only be touched but to touch as well.

  Alice’s clitoris throbbed and ached. God, she’d go mad if she didn’t appease this raging lust. She inhaled. The house was quiet. No one would know if she touched herself. Her pulse accelerated as she reclined on the bed and worked her fingers under the waistband of her pants.

  She jolted as soon as her fingers found her eager, swollen clit. Belle…

  Her lashes descended, and in her mind’s eye, she saw Belle’s face. Belle’s lips. Belle’s head disappearing between her thighs and then—

  Alice gritted her teeth to keep from crying out as she began to massage her cunny. Fleeting, erotic images of Belle’s lips and tongue teasing her to ecstasy flooded her thoughts.

  Every muscle in her body tensed, and she shuddered as she found bliss at her own touch. She hissed a sharp breath through her teeth and stilled when the last jolts of pleasure ebbed.

  Footsteps echoed on the attic stairs, and Alice shot upright. Her lust—at least temporarily—assuaged, common sense rushed back. It was wrong and unfair of her to pressure Belle for more. Alice knew it full well, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  Her heart sank. It was happening all over again, and she felt powerless to prevent it. While other women pretended, for Alice, being with a woman was all real. Utterly, frighteningly real. She could fall in love with a woman. She could spend the rest of her life with a woman. And goddamn it, she could get her heart broken by a woman—again.

  The best thing to do would be to keep her hands off Belle. After all, Belle’s husband was away fighting. He’d eventually come home, and where would that leave her, Alice?

  She wiped her fingers on the coarse fabric of her breeches and steeled herself. She would not touch Belle again. She could not.

  * * *

  That night, Uncle Hewlett played a reel on the fiddle while we all clapped and tapped our feet. I hadn’t felt this carefree in a year. Even though it meant having to share our rations, I enjoyed having a full house of laughing relatives again.

  But when Alice appeared at the parlor door, leaning on the crutch I’d found her and clad in my husband’s shirt and breeches, everything came to a screeching halt. Literally.

  Uncle Hewlett’s bow scratched across the strings, and he lowered the instrument.

  My cousins gaped.

  I leaped to my feet. “Alice, come in. Join us,” I said, smiling as I took her hands and coaxed her into the parlor. The feel of her fingers lacing with mine caused my heart to flutter. I hoped no one
else saw the blush coloring my cheeks.

  I introduced her to all the cousins and to my aunt. They greeted her suspiciously. But when I made the introduction to Uncle Hewlett, she offered to shake his hand. I gulped. Uncle Hewlett stared. His gaze flicked to mine before he gingerly took her hand and shook it.

  “What is your last name, sir?” she asked.

  His dark brow furrowed. “You may call me Uncle Hewlett.”

  She shook her head. “I owe you the respect of referring to you by your surname.”

  Uncle Hewlett’s shoulders squared. He’d been offended. His jaw set and his eyes narrowed. “My last name is the same as Miss Belle’s pa’s, and I expect you to refer to me as Uncle Hewlett.”

  Alice gave him a curt nod. “You may refer to me as Miss O’Malley.”

  He studied her for a moment. “I’ll do no such thing. In this house, you are Miss Alice. We are, all of us, family here. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir,” she said quickly.

  I suppressed a grin, gathering Alice wasn’t accustomed to anyone being more overbearing than she was.

  She sat beside me on the settee, and Uncle Hewlett resumed his reel. As the night wore on, everyone gradually accepted Alice’s different manner of look and dress. Doubtless, my cousins thought all Yankee girls acted like Alice.

  While everyone else grew more and more at ease, I became increasingly tense. Soon, we’d all be turning in, and I would be getting in bed with Alice again.

  I shifted on the settee. The motion of my thighs pressing together made me ache anew. Although I clapped in time to the music, my thoughts were miles away, drifting in the dark where I could be touched…and venture to touch. Behind my closed door and under the sheets, I could indulge my illicit fantasies, and no one would ever know.

  * * *

  Alice had already gone to our room while I closed up the house for the night. My heart thundered as I climbed the stairs. I couldn’t wait to have her hands on me again. I couldn’t wait to lose myself in the pleasure she gave to me.

  God in heaven, what was I doing?

  I pushed all doubt away. I needed this. I wanted this.