They made port in Wilmington, North Carolina in about ten weeks after they lost the wind for a bit of time and had to stop in Jamaica for supplies and provisions. The journey from the port to the parcel of land Jim's father had already taken days. In fact, their small caravan still had one day left to travel through the green expanse of the North Carolina wilderness.
Melinda watched the horizon bob up and down with the stride of her horse. Purple heather speckled the landscape and the smell of the grass comforted her: it reminded her of the fields back home. Drawing her eyes back to the road ahead, she watched her boys in front of her: her husband on a brown sorrel mare with Theodore wrapped against his chest. They'd taken turns with who held him, but he was particularly partial to his father even at only six months old.
Now, Melinda saw her husband's broad shoulders from behind and mused at the strength he carried even seated on a horse and traced the jet black curls flying free under the rare sunny sky. She would catch his soft words here and there between the two of them, enough to know Jim must be telling their son stories, she thought with a smile. She could only imagine the grandness of the tale as, occasionally, Jim's hands would leave the reins to help illustrate a point or sweep across the skyline, painting a picture for the boy who would giggle and coo at his father's words even though he didn't understand them.
Aware that his wife was hanging behind them, Jim slowed his horse's pace to allow her to come up flush with them. Her husband's sunny countenance proved to her the fresh air had already done a number on their moods. She'd noticed the change in both of their gaits as soon as they'd stepped off the boat and onto solid ground back at the port—the ground being an especially welcome sight for her husband.
"Having fun, you two?" she asked over the heavy thudding of their mounts' hooves.
With the summer air particularly warm today, their horses' coats were damp with sweat; she could tell the weary animals would welcome a rest soon. Theodore's bright eyes danced as his head turned rapidly at the sound of her voice, squealing and holding his hands out to her. She let one hand move toward him, taking hold of his hand for a moment before returning to the reins.
"Just telling our boy about the first time I ever remember going riding," he said, smirking at her.
"I see," she remarked, teasing him. "It must have been a fascinating story."
As dusk neared, they pulled off under the cover of a cluster of trees to make camp for the night. Dismounting rather quickly, Jim crossed to her and as she unwrapped their son from him, he gently kissed her forehead. That was when a sudden movement from the corner of their eyes interrupted their moment.
"Ned! Not like that!" He yelled and rushed off to stop the lad before he unlatched the entire saddle and blankets into the dirty grass.
Ned was still just a boy, she thought, chuckling a bit as she quickly wrapped her son to her bosom. Grooming her own horse soon after, she watched over the curve of the animal's back as Jim showed Ned the proper technique to brush down the mare, following the pattern of her coat. The boy picked it up very quickly and was enthusiastically running the brush in confident strokes.
"Very good," came Jim's voice. "But slow down."
Ned nodded and adjusted accordingly, with Jim's hand guiding him for another moment. "Like this?" The boy asked.
"Yes, like that," he said, pulling back with a proud nod.
She couldn't wait to see him be like that with their son as he grew and their children to come. With that thought heavily on her mind, she quickly finished cooling down her own mount and moved on to help Katherine set up their camp for the night as Jim and Ned tied up the horses and left in search of meat.
Jim and Ned returned from their short-lived hunt just as Melinda and Katherine finished pitching the tents and gathering firewood. She prepared the fire, as they skinned the unsuspecting rabbits they'd managed to catch. Katherine had gone off with Ned to look for any herbs or other vegetables they might find, but she and her husband had shared a knowing look as he brought the meats over to her and went to check in on their son as she prepared dinner.
Soon, a stew of the meat and some vegetables they'd acquired was done and divvied out. A meager meal, but it would do until they reached their own parcel of land and would begin to cultivate it on their own, and could enjoy a fuller array. With the warm glow from the setting sun enveloping them, they all settled down to dinner.
Ned made a face after his first taste of Melinda's handiwork. "You know what would make this better,? Goat cheese," the boy complained.
"Hm, goat cheese?" She asked, slightly annoyed because she thought the stew had turned out rather nicely, given the limited ingredients.
Ned didn't respond, having been kicked to silence by her sister and then resorted to greedily drinking the soup directly out of the bowl with a smile on his face. It had made her laugh more than anything else had in the last few weeks.
"Well, I think it's wonderful," Katherine pointed out and Ned simply shrugged at her, innocently, and she shook her head.
Despite his snobbish taste in food as of late, Melinda appreciated that there was this banter between them now. Her sister had even started to lighten up a bit lately, more than she had during the voyage here. When the meal was finished, Jim had moved on to clearing the tin bowls and utensils and storing them back into a pack so Melinda went to their tent to check on their sleeping babe.
Theodore had to be woken to feed one last time for the night, as usual, though she knew she should consider herself lucky to have such a calm baby. After she finished feeding him and put the boy back in his cradle, she began removing her boots and her own eyes beginning to droop drowsily. Lying down on their own blankets, she stretched her sore limbs. Days of horseback riding after weeks in a wagon were doing a number on her muscles.
Once Jim had confirmed the horse's leads were securely fastened to a nearby tree, he returned to their tent as well, laying down beside her. Wordlessly, she shifted to make room for him; his body once again next to her, it warmed and lulled her heart further into a pleasant hum. His grunt of contentment as he settled down made her breath catch a bit. Simply relishing the feeling of him, she scooted closer to him, holding onto his solid chest and closing her eyes. She felt him place a kiss on her head as his arm wrapped around her shoulder.
They soon drifted off, knowing life and all its joys and challenges that may lay ahead for them, but that they'd face them, hand-in-hand.
When they finally reached the Ridge a few days later, Jim and Ned had felled several tall, slender pines in a single day. They cut them into twelve-foot lengths and rolled and wrestled and tumbled the logs downhill. Now they lay stacked at the edge of the small clearing, rough bark glistening black with rainwater.
Jim was pacing out a line, stamping down the wet grass, while Melinda had set up their tent and situated Theodore for his midday nap. Katherine had a fire started on the top of a large flat stone— having learned from watching the men with the canny trick of keeping a handful of dry kindling along with flint and steel.
"This will be a shed," her husband told himself, frowning at the ground in concentration. "We'll build this first, for we can sleep in it if it should rain again, but it need be so well built like the cabins— it'll give us something to practice on, right, Ned?"
"What is it for—beyond practice?" She asked as she walked toward him and he looked up and smiled at her.
"Meat," he said, waving her over. "We'll dig a shallow put at the back, and fill it with embers, to smoke what we can for keeping. And make a rack for drying— to make what Ned saw a few other settlers making what they call jerky. We must have a safe place where any animals cannot get to our food."
This seemed like a sound idea; particularly in view of the sort of wild animals in the area. Her only doubts were regarding the smoking of the meat.
Melinda had seen it done in England and knew that smoking meat required a certain amount of attention someone had to be at hand to keep the fire from burning too high or going out altogether, had to turn the meat regularly and baste it with fat to avoid scorching and drying. She had no difficulty in seeing who was going to be nominated for this task. The only trouble was that if she didn't manage to do it correctly, everyone could die of meat poisoning.
"Right," she said, without any enthusiasm.
Jim caught her tone and turned to grin at her. "That's the first shed," he said. "The second one is for your sister."
Katherine, who had been tending to the fire had come over to them. "Mine?" Her sister perked up a bit at that.
"For your herbs and bits of plants. They do take up a bit of room, as I recall." He pointed across the cleaning, the light of a builder's mania in Jim's eye. "And just there— that's where the main cabin will be; where we all will live for the first winter. We will begin yours and Ned's cabin after that. That will give you time to pick a good spot, right?"
Her sister hugged him briefly after that and then went back to tending to the fire. The first day went by rather fast and to Melinda's surprise, they had the walls of the first shed erected by the second evening, crudely roofed with cut branches until time should permit the cutting of shingles for a proper roof. The walls were made of slender notched logs, still with the bark on, and with noticeable chinks and gaps between them.
Still, it was large enough to sleep all five of them comfortable for one night, and with a fire burning in the stone-lined pit at the end, it was quite cozy inside. Enough branches had been removed from the roof to leave a smoke hole; Melinda could see the evening stairs as she cuddled against Jim the second night and listened to him criticize his workmanship.
"Look at that," he said crossly, lifting his chin at the far corner. "I've gone and laid in a crooked pole, and it's put the whole of that line off the straight."
"I don't imagine the meat will care about it," she murmured into a kiss against his chest. "You built the blood thing in a day with nothing but a felling ax and a knife, for God's sake it looks fine. Try to get some sleep."
He didn't speak for a time and she could hear the soft giggle and kissing sounds her sister made with Ned across the smallish room, and she thought Jim might've fallen asleep. The fire crackled softly to itself, flaring up now and then as a draft reached in between the logs to ignite it.
"The house is going to be on the high ridge," he said suddenly. "Where the blueberry bushes are."
"Will it?" She asked. "The cabin, you mean? I thought that was going to be at the side of the clearing."
"No, not the cabin. A fine house for our family," he said softly. "It will take time to build, but I want it to have a staircase and glass windows."
"That will be grand," she said, resting her chin on his chest. "I trust you will do it with time."
"It will have high ceilings and a doorway high enough so I shall never bump my head going in," he continued explaining.
"That will be lovely," she said and somewhere in the far distance, a wolf howled. Theodore whined momentarily from the loud howl and she sat up, glancing over into his cradle to resituate him before laying down with a sigh. "What else will be in the house?"
"There will be whatever you wish in our home," he said, his hand tracing up and down her back. "There will be a study for me, lined with shelves for my books."
"Mmmm," she said as he put an arm around her shoulders, and tilting sideways, leaned down to kiss her passionately. "And a bed? You could build a bed, I expect? A large one?"
He hummed against her lips, "As fine as any bed you want."
Morning broke over the Ridge like a fever a few months later; stifling, stagnant, the moist heat undisturbed by even the faintest breath of wind. Both sheds had been built by then along with the first cabin. The second cabin walls were up across the valley for Katherine and Ned's future home, and the beginning of the roof was being put on. A barn was up with a few animals they'd traded from a nearby village across the way from their cabin.
It was shaping up nicely now and by midday, shimmering waves rose from the cracked, sun-scorched earth, blearing the line between land and sky. Having finished most of her chores in the watery grey light of pre-dawn, Melinda had spent the rest of the morning slumped in a rocking chair Ned had built for both her and Katherine, watching the horizon until her head swam from the effort. She worried about Jim and Ned working in the heat. Though their work ethic would not be hindered by something so inconsequential as 100-degree weather — not when there were trees to fell, crops to tend, cabins, and livestock enclosures to build.
Melinda understood, she did; in this budding little settlement of their land. She understood, but that didn't mean she liked it. She sent him off every morning with two deerskin saddlebags swollen with water, and a command to stop frequently to rest in the shade and drink; told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted both bags completely drained by the time he came back to her.
Every morning he kissed her soundly as he left, and promised. He was a man of his word, her Jim Clancy. Still, she worried about him. The sun had just hit its peak in a cloudless azure sky when she finally spotted him on the horizon. Her husband was on the ground and no longer working on the roof, walking slowly, leading his mount by the reins.
Melinda stood, holding their sleeping son tucked in her arm as she put a hand up to shield her eyes, looking the horse over for blatant signs of distress. Christ, that was the last thing they needed either: their best workhorse out of commission during peak harvest season before winter.
"What's wrong with him?" She called as soon as Jim was within earshot.
He squinted at her in the bright sunlight, brow furrowed. "Who?"
"Finley," she replied, jutting her chin at the grey gelding. "What happened to him?"
Jim looked back at his horse, then at her, the confusion melting into sheepishness. "Oh. Nothing, he's just fine. Just didn't want to burden him with a rider in this heat." He said with an easy smile. "I hope I didn't worry about me."
She rolled her tongue along the inside of her cheek, glancing down at Theodore against her bosom as he squirmed slightly in his sleep. "You know, they are called 'beasts of burden' for a reason, Jim." She muttered quietly enough to ensure she didn't wake their son. Shifting her appraising eye from the horse to her husband, she sauntered down the porch steps and out to meet him on the sun-baked path. "Where's your hat?"
He smiled and shrugged noncommittally, knowing full well that she wasn't really angry with him and only worried. "Not sure." He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her with another shrug. "I suppose I must have left it out in the new pasture somewhere."
She brushed the backs of her fingers of one hand over his neck and upper chest, where the exposed skin had burnt an alarming shade of brick-red. "I warned you, you know," she muttered rolling her eyes again.
He hissed a little, grimacing, and her eyebrows shot up pointedly. "Yes, I know," he mumbled. "I'll be paying for it tomorrow."
"Mhm. Katherine has a cream that will help its no matter," she said and rose on tiptoe to kiss him, the last of her frustration melting as she pulled back to study the lines of exhaustion carved into his dirty, sweat-streaked face. She patted his cheek, then gave it a little push, turning him toward the barn. "Go on. You see to Finley's lunch, and I'll see to yours once I put our son in his crib."
He gave her a tired smile that went straight to her bones, then turned away, clicking his tongue at the horse. She heard him muttering to himself as he walked toward the barn. Feeling her heart swell with tenderness, she slipped back into the cabin.
Katherine was knitting inside, halfway through a nice blanket. She had taken to sitting a lot these days; whether it was outside under a tree or inside the cabin. It was hard for her to do much else now that her stomach had started to grow larger every day it seemed. Her sister thought she might be carrying twins for how quickly she was growing, but Melinda had dismissed that claim as soon anyone beside Katherine could feel her and Ned's child kick from inside her.
Once she put Theodore in his crib, Melinda set to work for making lunch, adding a few corn cakes and honey, some salt pork, cheese, and a handful of ripe cherry tomatoes, fresh from the garden onto a large serving plate. A few minutes later, she heard the slump of boots on the porch steps, the squeak of the door hinge, and her husband's heavy sigh as he stepped inside. The heat was stifling, no better than outdoors, but at least the cabin offered a reprieve from the blazing afternoon sun.
She was still preparing the plate when he stood behind her, smiling softly when he pressed a kiss to her neck, then rested his chin on her shoulder. "Are those the tomatoes you've been telling me about?" He asked.
"They are." Much to her delight, she'd been able to purchase a few packets of seeds from a tradesman the last time we'd gone into town. They were virtually unheard of in these parts, but as she'd suspected, they flourished in her sister's late summer garden. "Here, taste. They're sweet." She bit one in half, savoring the burst of juice on her tongue, then reached up to offer the other half to Jim.
He made a little hum of a pleasant surprise as he nibbled it from her fingers. "Oh, yes, it is sweet," he said appreciatively, reaching around her to snatch another off the plate.
"Have as many as you'd like. There are hundreds in the garden." She told him.
Still making contented humming noises at the new discovery, he went to the table, popping the tomatoes into his mouth in quick succession. When she sat beside Jim and they began to eat, he tilted his head over to her.
"How was your day?" He asked.
She told him of her daily chores and of their son's, who was now nearly a year old, day too. Theodore was a quiet baby, but very curious and already trying to walk. Jim took her hand as they finished their lunch, and she squeezed.
"I should be getting back to work," he said quietly, though he made no move to withdraw his hand from hers.
Her stomach dropped at the very thought of sending him back out into the scorching heat again; at the thought of parting from him at all in that moment, she suggested just as quietly, "Stay. You should rest a bit longer."
He brought her knuckles to his lips, letting the kiss linger for a moment before he lowered our joined hands back to the tabletop. "I would, but Ned will be expecting me back. He wants to see his and Katherine's cabin built by the end of the week."
"I know. Only for a little while," she promised, shifting in her chair so that his knee rested between her thighs. "Please... for me?"
Jim's eyes flicked briefly to hers and then he glanced over his shoulder at where Katherine was sitting across the room. When he saw the look her sister was giving him, he drew in a shaky breath and let it out in a measured stream. "I'd never say no to you, love." The pad of his thumb stroked slowly along the vein on the inside of her wrist. "But in this heat?"
"I thought we might go for a walk down to the river." She leaned in a bit, reaching out to play idly with the hem of his sleeve. "Katherine will keep an eye on Teddy."
"Will I?" Katherine spoke, breaking the moment.
"Will you?" She asked, glancing over at her.
"Since you asked so nicely, of course, sweet sister," Katherine teased her as she went back to her knitting with a shake of her head. "As long as you return the favor one day."
"I have doubt that we will," Jim's voice deepened as he answered, his voice growing husky. "And what did you have in mind when we go down to the river, Mel?" He closed the remaining distance between them, close enough to kiss her, his breath shaking over her parted lips.
"I have a few ideas," she whispered, grazing her nose along the length of his.
"Do you, then?" His lips ghosted over her chin and back along her jawline. "Like what?" he breathed against her ear.
Despite the rush of heat pooling low in her belly — the warm ache begging her to forget the whole idea and just let him take her there on the table despite her sister's company— Melinda somehow summoned the resolve to pull away. Looking at him through hooded eyes, Melinda rose and walked to the door.
"Come see for yourself," she bid him over her shoulder and stepped out into the sunlight.
Jim didn't need any more convincing than that and quickly followed her.
Halfway down the path to the river, Jim's steps faltered and a belated thought occurring to him: one of the boards on the dock was tilted, and heaven forbid her ever-industrious husband should waste an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Promising he'd be along directly, he doubled back to fetch his hammer and a few nails. Melinda didn't bother waiting for him; he knew where to find her.
When she reached the river's edge, it took a great deal of willpower not to strip to her skin and dive headlong into the cool, refreshing water. Fortunately, her baser impulses were held in check by the acute awareness that she and Jim were no longer alone in their little sliver of the wilderness. There were a handful of tenants she and Jim, and Ned and Katherine both have invited in their time, who utilized this same dock.
The heat had sapped her of a good deal of her propriety, but not quite enough to skinny dip in what amounted to the public watering station. Had Jim come with her in the first place, she imagined that resolve might have crumbled; alone, she opted for a bit more modesty. Sidestepping the jut of that damned crooked board, Melinda stripped off her boots and stockings so that she could dangle her feet in the water at the end of the dock.
Jim hurried, the promise of what awaited him providing incentive enough to propel him rather quickly through the insufferable heat. She glanced over her shoulder as he loped down to the dock's edge, sweaty and grinning, a few nails pinched between his teeth and a hammer held up in one hand.
"Got 'em," he lisped and quirked an eyebrow at her as he bent to his task. "Thought you would be out of that dress by the time I got back."
She returned the arched brow, tilting her head so that her hair spilled over one shoulder. "I do believe that's your job, Mr. Clancy."
"Yes, it is," he said gravely, with a failed attempt at a wink. "And one I take seriously. I consider myself lucky that you waited."
He stuck the tip of a nail into the tilted dock board, examined the angle with a meticulous eye, and began to hammer it into place. Feeling suddenly fevered in a way that had nothing to do with the heat, she turned back to the river and leaned down to wet her hand, then smeared the cool water over her neck and forehead. After a few minutes of purposeful hammering, her husband stood, made a throaty sound of appreciation for his own handiwork, then came to join her at the water's edge.
"Thank you for doing that," she said, her tone impressively casual, as he pulled off his boots and rolled up his trouser legs. "Can't tell you how many times I stubbed my toe on that bloody board."
"Yes, mine as well," he said, holding up one of his feet to show me a bruise on his big toe. She gave him a sympathetic wince, and he shrugged, letting his feet drop into the water. "Neither of us has to worry about it now."
"My hero," she teased.
Jim bumped her shoulder with his, both of them chuckling softly. They drifted into a comfortable silence then, faces tipped up to the sun as their feet swayed and bumped together in the current.
"I meant it about being rid of that dress, Melinda," he said after a time. She opened sleepy, half-lidded eyes to find him studying her face. He ran the pad of his thumb along her upper lip, brushing away a bit of perspiration. "You are sweating something fierce."
"I do not sweat," she informed him, raising her eyebrows and chin in a lofty expression. "I glisten."
Jim grinned at that. "Oh, is that true?" He dipped his fingertips in the river and flicked a few droplets of water at her. "Glisten, is it?"
Melinda scrunched her nose as she swiped at the drips. When she reopened her eyes, it was with a devilish smirk to match his own. "I wouldn't start something you're not prepared to finish, lover."
"Oh," he assured her. "I am prepa—"
Without warning, she kicked a massive splash in his direction. Caught off guard and soaked from navel to knees, Jim yelped, his breath hitching into a strangled laugh. Melinda tucked her feet up under her and scrambled back along the dock, and he leaned back and tried to snatch at her ankle as she fled. He missed by a fraction of an inch, and she barked out a triumphant laugh as she skittered away.
"Oh, now you are in for it!" He warned, blue eyes taking on a predatory gleam.
Flushed and grinning from ear to ear, she leaped from the dock onto the shore and ran barefoot down the riverbank, purposely headed away from the settlement and out toward the seclusion of the wilderness. Melinda had a good head start on Jim by the time he managed to clamber to his feet. He let out a boisterous laugh as he bounded onto the shore, a feral beast on the hunt. She squealed, heart-pounding, and burst into a full-fledged sprint.
It didn't make any difference; those impossibly long legs closed the distance in a matter of seconds. When his strong arms caught her around the waist, the momentum of his backward pull caused her feet to fly up ahead of her. He grabbed her hips flush against his and held fast while she squirmed violently in his arms, kicking and slapping at him ineffectually.
"Jim, no!" She squeaked out, panting and laughing in spurts as he pivoted and began to march them both closer to the water's edge. "No-no-n-n-n—Jim, don't you dare!"
"Who's starting a fight they cannot finish now?" he purred against her ear.
She didn't have a chance to answer before he lunged, and suddenly they were in freefall; in one well-choreographed move, Jim spun as they dropped, so that his back hit the water first. The river was just deep enough that they both went under for a moment before rebounding to the surface, sputtering shocked gasps of cold.
Gaping at him in mock fury, she scrambled to her feet amidst a tangle of skirts, shoved him, then gripped his shoulders and tried to dunk him again. He'd already righted himself, so her efforts were in vain; kneeling on the rocky riverbed, the water hit him just below his breastbone. He looked up at her, clutching her waist and grinning as she dripped all over him.
"You bloody barbarian!" She shoved him again, hard, but only succeeded in losing her own footing on the slippery rocks.
Melinda tumbled forward against his shoulder, which juddered beneath her chin as he laughed himself into a breathless, wheezing coughing fit. Though she made a valiant effort to hold a scowl in place, her chest clutched with the effort to suppress laughter of her own. Pulling back just far enough to glare at him — rather ineffectually, as her traitorous lips twitched upwards.
"Proud of yourself?" She teased.
Jim's eyes were impossibly blue, sparkling with the reflection of sunlight off the river. He eased back a bit further, making a show of considering her; his gaze roamed the length of her body, the sodden dress clinging to her curves like a second skin. When he'd finished his thorough examination (a second, then a third pass, each slower and more deliberate than the last), he put a hand to the small of her back and drew her back to him with a self-satisfied smirk. Melinda let him, any pretense of outrage dissolved in the hunger of his gaze, the answering burn it stoked in her own bones.
"Yes, I am," he admitted, without a shred of remorse. He reached up his other hand to sweep the wet strands of hair back from her face. Fisting the tangled curls at the nape of her neck, he eased her down until her mouth hovered a hair's breadth from his. "And as you may recall, seeing you all wet like this… if you were in only your shift it would be like our first night together."
Smiling openly now, she teased her lips over his as she murmured, "Then you should take my dress off and we can relive that night."
He huffed out a laugh, the warm breath tingling over her lips. She closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her. When he didn't, she reopened them, watching the subtle shifts in the lines of his face as amusement fizzled into quiet contemplation. He released his grip on her, smoothing the calloused hand downward with exquisite tenderness — tracing the curve of her neck to the hollow between her collarbones, then down the vertical line of her sternum, until he found the spot where her heartbeat against the thin strip of bone.
He held his palm there, cradling it, his blunt fingertips coming to rest in the notches of her ribs. "I wanted to see you like this," he confessed quietly.
She nuzzled the dashed scar on his cheekbone, eyes half-closed with desire. "Like what?"
He didn't answer — simply watched her intently, eyes glinting like polished obsidian, as he pressed down gently with the pads of his fingertips, encouraging her to lie back. Melinda resisted only long enough to anchor her legs around his hips before she surrendered to the wordless request. Muscle by muscle, she let herself unfurl, sinking back into the water with a deep sigh of pleasure. As soon as she did, she understood. There was something deliciously exciting — erotic — about drifting in the water fully clothed.
Melinda felt wicked somehow, uninhibited and wild, with the current rippling through the fabric of her dress, fanning her curls out behind her like a banner. She thought she heard Jim whisper something to her, but his voice was lost beneath the babble of the river. It didn't matter. His reverence was evident in the way he held her, looked at her; in the careful touch of his palm to her heart; in the tiny sliver of blue remaining around his pupils; in the broken rasp of his breathing; in the warm, solid press of his need where her legs parted around his pelvis.
She wasn't sure which of them began to rock first — subtly, slowly, the motion barely distinguishable from the sway of the current. They seemed to become aware of it at the same time; she tipped her head back, breathing out Jim's name, in the same moment that he shifted both hands to her hips, pulling her closer. She ground against him with intention then, trying to create friction where she craved him most.
"Mel," he warned, the half-moons of his fingernails beginning to dig into the flesh of her hips.
Consumed with the sudden, fierce need to hold him, to have him tight against her, she grasped twin fistfuls of his shirt and pulled herself against the current, back up into his arms. Streams of river water billowed behind her as she crushed her mouth to his, panting, capturing the fullness of his bottom lip in her teeth. His arm tightened around her waist as he began to ease them toward the riverbank; lost in the mesmerizing slide of his tongue against hers.
She wasn't even aware that they were moving until the water was lapping at her thighs instead of her ribs. When they broke for air, their foreheads still pressed together, Jim brought one large hand up to hold her between her shoulder blades, then slid them both forward into the shallow water, sprawled out on his belly with her underneath him. When her shoulders came to rest against the supple green reeds of the riverbank, he leaned down to kiss her again, whimpering softly into her mouth.
"Christ, if you could only see yourself," he murmured, his lips brushing restlessly over her cheekbones, her eyelids, and the bridge of her nose. "You look like a goddess. Like Venus, rising from the sea."
She rolled her eyes, laughing at him even as a warm blush swept across her cheeks. "The things you say to me, Jim Clancy."
He smiled against the downy spot behind her ear. "I mean them."
"I know." She cradled his face in her hands, drawing him back so that he could see the genuine appreciation in her eyes before she pulled him down to kiss her again.
They went slowly, taking the time to taste, to coax hums and grunts of pleasure from one another as they rediscovered all of the dark, warm places sacred to the two of them. When it came to sharing a cabin with her sister and Ned it wasn't all that easy to find privacy so both couples were itching for the other cabin to be finished. Her fingers found the hem of his tunic and peeled it back in bunching inches, reveling in each crevice and puckered ridge of scar tissue they unveiled.
Melinda knew them all by heart now, every last line a well-loved route on a roadmap she'd memorized with fingers and lips and tongue. Once she had the tunic rolled up to his armpits, she drew back long enough to let him slick it the rest of the way off and toss it up onto the grassy bank behind them. She barely had time to take a gulp of air before Jim was on her again, his kiss hungry, fevered; he dragged his mouth along her jaw until he found the spot at the bend of her neck that made her hips lift out of the shallow water.
He paused to suck there intently, teasing, knowing exactly what she wanted and holding back — making her gasp out a plea of "do it" before his hands went to the clasps on her bodice, hers to the back of his head, both of them suddenly frantic, clawing. Without thinking, she raked her nails through his damp curls and down the sides of his neck—
"Ach!" Jim yelped, his mouth detaching from her skin with a wet smacking sound.
She startled, eyes snapping open, releasing him on instinct. Mind still fogged with pleasure, it took her a moment to recognize what the problem was. Once I did, she half-sat up with a wordless exclamation of her own, reaching up to soothe the skin he was rubbing with his broad, blunt fingertips. In the heat of the moment, she'd left him with a matching set of vivid white claw marks on both sides of his poor sunburnt neck.
"I am so sorry!" She bit down on her lower lip, torn between amusement and guilt. "I forgot."
He shot her a sidelong glance, lips pursed, nostrils flaring, but he couldn't keep up the ruse for long though. After a few seconds, he was smiling again, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "It's all right," he murmured, kissing her gently a few times until the tension melted from them both. He nuzzled the tip of her nose, eyes half open and locked on hers. "It would not have been a problem if I'd listened to my wife in the first place, hmm?"
Her smile spread against his, their lips gliding softly together. "Mmm. You know, that may be the sexiest thing you've ever said to me." She chuckled.
He tipped his face forward as he laughed, so that his nose pressed into her cheek. "Oh, come on now! Give me some credit."
"I am!" She insisted, scooping down to place a kiss on the stubbled cleft of his chin.
"The sexiest thing?" he demanded, scrunching his nose at her.
She smiled, kissing the wrinkled skin smooth again. "Mmhmm."
"I beg to differ," his tongue parted her lips, and she hummed her appreciation as her own slid forward to meet his.
She relaxed her chin, trying to encourage him deeper, but he swiftly pulled away, dropping open-mouthed kisses to the skin just above the collar of her dress. He finished the task of unclasping the bodice in a few practiced flicks, then peeled the homespun fabric back, so that the only barrier remaining between her bare skin and his ravenous mouth was a thin muslin shift. It may as well have been nonexistent; the water had plastered it to her skin, leaving nothing to the imagination as it had the first night they'd met.
He took one look at the outline of her nipples, puckered with desire and the chill of the water, and made a sound so deep in his chest that she felt it rather than heard it. She expected him to devour her, then; to suckle and bite, hitch her legs up, and drive home with abandon.
However, he didn't. "Do you remember that first night… how you came running from the bush with Ned chasing after you?" He asked huskily, teasing his lips along the underside of her breast. Her eyes fluttered shut as she arched up into his mouth.
"Yes," she breathed, humming in pleasure. "How could I ever forget?"
He kissed his way slowly up her ribcage, bypassing her nipples entirely and Melinda made a low whine of objection, trying to grab his face and bring him back down. He steadfastly ignored her, proceeding up her neck until he reached her ear. "I made that entire camp rage with jealousy that night… and I recall you telling me I had a way with my words." He whispered against her skin.
"If you say so." Her hips were rising of their own accord, seeking friction. She wrapped her calves around the backs of his thighs, opening her legs wider to him in a not-so-subtle invitation. "I recall having to tell you to be quiet too," she countered breathlessly.
"And I felt like God himself when I was inside you," he murmured against her skin. "Every time it is something new."
She slipped her hands beneath the wet fabric of his trousers, pulling his muscular rear down hard in the same moment that she ground up against him. Jim's mouth fell open in a gasp against her jaw, and she took the opportunity to turn in to him, to find his tongue with hers again
He kissed her hard, losing himself for a moment, both of them rocking together, creating a wake in the shallow water. Unfortunately, she had married perhaps the most stubborn man alive; he'd set out to make a point. After a few seconds, he disentangled his mouth from hers, panting, amidst her whimpers of protest.
"You cannot forget the time I had you after we were married…" He told her.
"Jim," she moaned, positively writhing underneath him.
"Or under the willow tree last week…" He teased her.
"What about it?" She asked.
"Did I not say things to you then?" He asked. "When you woke aching in the middle of the night and rolled over and begged me to take you?"
"Oh God, is that what you're on about?" Melinda threw her head back in exasperation, laughing, then tipped back forward and took his face in her hands. "Jim, it was a joke." To prove her point, she took his right hand and brought it down to the slick heat between her legs. "You know what your words do to me, don't you?" She whispered against the corner of his mouth.
His smirk would have been infuriating if she hadn't been so unbelievably aroused. "Yes, I do," he murmured, his thumb beginning to work her in slow, tantalizing figure eights. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
"You are a bloody fool, Jim Clancy," she said as he dropped his grinning mouth back down to her breast, his tongue dragging a lazy circle around the perimeter of a muslin-clad nipple.
"Tell me what you need," he murmured, toying with her mercilessly, his lips dipping to meet the soft mounds of her breasts in delicate, quick flutters; first one, then the other, steadfastly refusing to give her what he knew she wanted. "Should I tell you what I want to do to you?" He took a nipple deep in his mouth, gave a single, firm suck, then released it and whispered, "How I mean to make you beg before we're done?"
His thumb began to work faster, and she arched up out of the water, her face screwed tight in concentration. She twined her fingers into his hair, needing some sort of anchor as white-hot pleasure began to coil tighter and tighter in her belly, like a thread of light winding and looping with each swipe of his thumb.
Melinda was climbing dangerously close to the edge, growing frantic, desperate. "Right now," she gasped, her chest heaving against his, "I want you to shut your bloody mouth…" She raked my teeth up his jaw, then hissed into his ear, "and make love to me."
Blessedly, that seemed to do the trick; as he wriggled his sodden breeches down and kicked them away, it appeared Jim had no words left but her name and a few curses. He breathed both of them into her open mouth as he sat her up and slid inside her in one fluid movement. She made a noise loud enough to startle a few roosting birds from a nearby tree, bowing her forehead to rest in the crook of his neck. She took a few steadying breaths, then shifted her weight to take him deeper, moaning appreciatively at the gratifying stretch of him.
"Hard and fast, love," she demanded breathlessly. "Don't hold back."
Heat be damned, she couldn't remember a time in recent memory when she needed or wanted him so badly. He nodded into her hair, one big hand gripping the nape of her neck, the other pressing into the small of her back. The water lapped at their mid-thighs, and after a few quick thrusts, both of their knees digging painfully into the rocky riverbed, they both arrived at the same conclusion.
"Should we move up on the riverbank?" he gasped.
"Please," she agreed.
Melinda meant to climb off of him, to let him up, but Jim had other ideas; both of his arms scooped down to hold her under her thighs, and with impossible strength borne of hard labor, he rocked back and then launched suddenly to his feet, carrying her with him. The shift in position allowed her to sink even further onto him, and she crushed a moan into his warm neck.
His footing on the rocks was precarious enough without her writhing in his arms, so she forced herself to hold still as he maneuvered them carefully up the bank and onto solid ground again. "Where do you—?"
"Anywhere, it doesn't matter—" The air slammed out of her lungs before she could finish as he pressed her up against a massive oak tree.
Jim leaned his forehead against hers, eyes seeking approval; when he found it, they both dropped their heads onto each other's shoulders. His hands held fast to her thighs, her to the strong, broad muscles of his back, and then they were moving together — bucking and rocking, circling and grinding at a punishing speed. He felt good, so good, battering at an ache that had been building all day, but the angle wasn't quite right. She tried to hitch herself higher against the trunk, trying to find the right position, but every time she started to climb toward release, to coil and tense, the sensation would slip out of reach again.
Panting and whining with the recession of the most recent one, she pulled back to look him helplessly in the eyes. "Jim, I-"
"You want to lay down?" he huffed, kissing her sweaty brow.
She sighed in relief, nodding. She physically ached as he slipped out of her, her thigh muscles trembling with unfulfilled need. He didn't need to ask how she wanted him; he settled down on the grass on his back and reached his hands up to steady her as she straddled him and sank down. Her whole back arched with the sensation of being filled again — deeply, fully, and exactly where she needed him this time. He smiled, panting, as she gave a guttural moan and began to move on him.
"Better?" he whispered.
Laying down on top of him naked, her breasts pressed to his bare chest, she sighed into his mouth, "Much... better." Melinda returned the breathless smile and peeled the sodden shift off, discarding it with a wet plop beside them.
His broad hands kneaded her arse and then gripped her firmly to him, an axis to center her. "Hard and fast, love," he echoed her own command with a devastatingly handsome smile and an attempt at a wink. "Don't hold back."
And despite the sweltering heat, the midday sun evaporating the last of the river droplets from their skin, she did just that. She crushed her parted lips to his, riding him at a gallop until they were both breathing too hard to be able to maintain any semblance of a kiss. She pressed my forehead to his cheekbone as her whimpers and groans pitched higher, her husband's grunts dissolving into choked sounds that let her know he was getting close.
They wound tighter and tighter, faster and faster, muscles taut and straining, hearts hammering frantically against each other's ribcages. Melinda was close enough that she thought they might finish together, but Jim made certain of it; as his hips began to snap and stutter out of rhythm, he quickly brought his thumb around to press and circle urgently just above their joining. She screamed as she came undone, arching instinctively away from the pleasure that was so hot it burned, shuddering and contracting violently around him.
Jim had just enough time to choke out, "Jeez — oh, fuck, Mel," before he went still beneath her, muscles clenched, as he spilled himself deep inside her.
She collapsed on top of him, limp and boneless, and laid there for what felt like hours, until their breathing slowed and the frantic thrum of her pulse evened back to its normal, even tempo. Despite the heat — or perhaps because of it — she found herself too exhausted to move, even though a sheen of sweat had gathered where their skin was pressed together. His fingertips drew lazy patterns along her back, and after a while he was the first to stir, propping himself up on an elbow.
"How about we take a swim?" he suggested, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Hm? To cool off a bit."
"Mm," she hummed in agreement, opening sleepy eyes and smiling at him. "Just as soon as I remember how to move again."
He chuckled, moving his lips to her temple. "I can carry you if you'd like."
Melinda shook her head, nuzzling her face against his chest as she did so. "No, I can do it." She sighed into his skin, kissed it, then laid her head back down again. She was half asleep against his chest when he moved and slid his head between her knees. She lifted her head a little from the grass, eyebrows raised, laughing at him. "What are you d—?"
"Hold on to that," he instructed, indicating a large willow root that jutted out behind me. She didn't have time to question him before he hitched her thighs up over his shoulders and slipped his tongue inside her.
It became apparent almost immediately that Jim intended this to be an agonizingly slow process. All of the urgency that had gripped him earlier had been spent in a delirious blaze on the riverbank; his tongue was heavy now, lethargic, tasting and stroking with the patience of a man who was thoroughly sated himself.
She whimpered and tried to grip him closer with her thighs, whispering a breathy command of wanting him to go a little faster, which only made him draw back and fix her with a glistening smile. "Relax, my love," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to her inner thigh. "We have time."
And then he dove back in and hummed his approval as the limp weight of her thighs settled fully on his shoulders; he rewarded her by slicking his tongue upwards and circling a few times, just long enough for her breathing to quicken before he dipped back inside her. Melinda moaned then, the sound reverberating so deep in her chest that it was almost inaudible over the noise of the river. He must have felt it, though; he smiled against her, the tip of his tongue curving just slightly with his downstroke.
"Oh, Jim…" she gasped, her knuckles going white as they clenched into his curls.
"You liked that, hmm?" he murmured, pulling out to place open-mouthed kisses along the crease of her thigh.
"God, yes." She drew his head back with shaking fingers. "Do it again."
Over and over, alternating his depth, his tempo, knowing exactly when and where to exert pressure. With a precision born with practice — a tongue that knew her every intimate secret — he expertly stoked the ache deep inside her, building a tight wave of burgeoning heat and allowing it to ebb again, just a little bit hotter, a little brighter every time. She dropped her head back and to the side, groaning and gasping in turns, her hips lifting with each stroke, unable to keep still.
"Jim," she keened, a gasping request he understood intuitively.
Without pausing at all in his tongue's relentless assault, he released his grip on her right thigh and laid his palm over her pubic bone, exerting a bit of pressure to hold her steady as his thumb ventured downward. At the very first touch to the hyperstimulated, almost painful bundle of nerves, she jolted up as if he'd shocked her, ready to shatter violently with the slightest provocation. So he stopped and she might have screamed at him in outrage had he not looked up at her at that moment with such pure, perfect, heartbreaking tenderness.
His eyes glowed with adoration that bordered on worship, and she drowned helplessly in those bottomless blue depths. Collapsing, she begged between panting breaths, "Kiss me?"
Jim pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh one last time before he gathered her close to his chest, his broad hands cradling her as though she was something extremely delicate, stroking the pads of his fingertips over the smooth expanse of her back.
She melted into him, shaking and vulnerable, and whispered an almost soundless, "I love you," against his skin.
"And I love you," he whispered back.
Tilting her face up with the crook of his finger, he brushed his lips over hers, light and fleeting as a butterfly's wings. She could feel the length of him pressing against her belly, hard and ready again, but allowed him to lead, to ease her down from the trembling edge with soft, chaste kisses until the sparking ache between her legs smoldered back down to a warm glow. Sliding one hand down between them, she grasped him and guided him inside her.
She looked up into his face, he gave a subtle twitch of a nod, and then they both moved together, letting out matching gasps as he sank deep inside her again. They were still for a moment, her forehead resting against his chin, feeling his breath shake into her hair. "Are you alright?" He asked, hesitantly.
She hummed agreement and lifted her face to kiss him. "You feel so good," she whispered against his lips.
"So do you," he confessed into another kiss, and then they were moving — weightless, sliding together effortlessly beneath the river's surface.
It was a dance of shocking juxtaposition; the heat of him against the chill of the water providing just enough contrast to heighten the building pleasure. And Christ, how it built. She molded her fingers to the muscular curve of his shoulders, hard enough to leave bruises; his palms pressed to either side of her spine, one staggered slightly above the other, to pull her down and in with each thrust. She whimpered between clenched teeth, feeling as though she were climbing without end — pushing past the boundaries of her own tendons and muscle and bone, the brilliant white pressure expanding upwards and outwards, higher…
She meant to cry out his name, but the sound hitched into a desperate wail of vowels. She put her teeth into his trapezius muscle, gasping out a curse. And still, higher... He took his cue, doubling his pace and taking control for her, moving to lay her on her back. He pressed his head into the curve of her neck, his own soft, strained sounds growing more choked with each thrust.
"My love," he croaked. "Christ—" She knew what that meant, and pressed down hard, grinding desperately against her. She couldn't see, couldn't hear anything beyond the roar of blood in her ears, the metronome of his fevered panting just below it. "Melinda," he begged.
"So close," she sobbed. "Jim, I'm so close..."
He twisted his wrist down between them, fingers groping, parting, then pressing in tight, hard circles. And finally, the long-burning fuse exploded. Lightning ripped through her in blinding shocks of ecstasy, juddering up his spine and out through her nerve endings. He came directly behind her, still choking out a mix of curses and terms of endearment as his muscles drew taut as a bowstring. Shuddering and gasping against one another, they were both lost in the dazed aftermath of powerful orgasms, stunned into breathless silence.
Though his bruising grip on her (and hers on him, eventually) softened into gentle, soothing caresses, they clung together for quite a long time, as if they might shatter into pieces if they separated. When at last they eased back far enough to look into each other's eyes, it was all they could do to stare at one another, quietly awestruck. Entire conversations passed unspoken between them before Jim dropped his forehead to hers with a shaky sigh.
"We should get back," he murmured, lifting her wrinkled fingertips to his lips with a crooked smile. "Before dark."
She nodded, nuzzling the tip of his nose with hers. "Do you have to go back out to the field today?" She asked quietly.
"No, I'll not leave you tonight," he said, sealing the promise with a kiss. "I will make my excuses to Ned and reward him with some whiskey tonight."
"And what exactly do you plan on telling him?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.
"The truth." He shrugged, blue eyes sparkling. "That I came down to fix the dock, mindin' my own business, and my wife started a fight with me that I was very happy to finish."