The Seduction Of Shay Devereaux

Shay pushed back his hat and used his kerchief to wipe his forehead. She’d walked across the pasture, then down the hedgerow to the far end of the field where they toiled in the sun. His eyes had swerved in her direction between each hole he pushed into the soil. Her hair caught the sunlight, shimmering and drawing his gaze like a magnet. Even from a distance, he knew the exact shade of her eyes, knew the shape of her mouth, the tender slope of her bosom.

He cleared his throat as she deliberately caught his eye and waved, pleased at the small smile she made no effort to conceal. “Noah?” The man looked up and motioned toward Jenny, his sons following his lead. Their steps were eager as all four of them turned in her direction. Jenny settled her pail on the ground, spreading the small tablecloth she’d brought from the house. “Come and eat,” she invited them, placing the platter she’d prepared in the center.

“Isabelle made cake.” She lifted, lifting the lid from a tin box with a flourish. Inside, squares of golden pound cake awaited, a thin glaze coating each piece. “She said it was especially for you, Noah,” she told him as he stood beside the food she’d arranged. “Sit down, won’t you? I’ll go and get your water.”

Shay watched her walk away, to where they’d left the last of the water. Two jars remained of the four she’d brought earlier, and she carried them back, one in the fold of each arm. Her skirts brushed the grass and swayed with each step she took. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows and the summer sun had left its signature behind, toasting her skin to a golden brown. He imagined the pale flesh above the rolled sleeves, and below the V of honeyed flesh at her throat. She was fair, if he was any judge, with that copper-colored hair. Where the sun had touched her face, she wore freckles, just a smattering across her nose and cheeks, and more of the same blended with the tan on her forearms.

Blue eyes found his and a rosy flush painted her cheeks. He’d warrant that the skin beneath her bodice held the same hue, and that thought released a rush of energy within him that stood no chance of being expelled. Not today, or tonight, or anytime soon.

She was a woman ripe for the taking, and he’d give his eye teeth and then some if he had any chance of snatching her for himself. Instead he could only watch, and try his level best to contain the desire she inspired.

She bent to the men, handing them the jars of water, and Noah gave the first to Shay. “Drink what you want,” he said politely. “I’ll share with you.”

And not until I’ve had my fill, Shay thought, with a rueful nod of his head. Too many restrictions remained, even in the world where no man was a slave to another. Noah would not presume to take first place, and his easy acknowledgment of that fact of life as he knew it, made Shay cringe. He drank, long and deeply of the cool water, then handed it to the other man.

“Here you go,” he said, “I’m fine.” And then turned to his food.

“Are you sure, Mr. Shay? Take all you want,” Noah offered, obviously unwilling that he should offend by drinking more than his share.

“There’s plenty more, Noah,” Jenny said quickly. “I have another jar in the basket.” Obviously used to the traditions that would take long to die out after the years of rigid separation, she had come prepared, and Shay lifted his brow as she glanced at him.

The extra jar of water was nestled against the trunk of the tree and she settled herself in the grass beside it, watching the men devour the food she’d brought. Then as they stretched out on the grass, hats over their eyes, she piled the scant remains in her basket. Shay watched from beneath his hat brim, and his gaze traced the lines of her slender form, noting the shabby dress with a twinge of anger.

She deserved more, and yet, should he attempt to replace her worn clothing with new, she would be offended. Of that fact, he was certain. Jenny was used to making do; she was a magician at creating clothing for her child from Carl’s castoffs, left in the attic. He’d found her sewing by candlelight one evening and scolded her for not using a lantern.

“It wastes kerosene,” she’d told him, bending to stitch carefully at the small pair of trousers she was creating.

It wasn’t his place to argue with her and so he’d pleased himself by moving the candle closer. Its light had shone in the tendrils of hair that fell against her jaw, glistened in the depths of her eyes as she glanced up at him, and he’d clenched his broad hands into fists lest he reach to brush the wayward lock from the fine line of her cheek.

Now she stood and lifted the basket, waving a hand at the four men, three of whom were dozing, obviously having learned at an early age to take cat naps where they could. Shay, on the other hand, found it difficult to close his eyes without the presence of walls around him, or at least a rocky ledge at his back. He watched through his lashes as her gaze lingered on him, noted the touch of her tongue against her upper lip and suppressed a shiver that threatened to translate into full-blown desire.

She turned away, and he sat up abruptly, jamming his hat atop his head. Less than two months here and he spent half his time teetering on the verge of snatching at her like a randy cowhand. He stood, gaining his feet in a fluid movement that caught Noah’s attention. Scooping his hat from his face, Noah rose and Shay motioned at him with one hand.

“Rest awhile,” he murmured. “You’ve been working hard all morning. Your boys can use a break, too. I just want to walk the length of the field and back. It looks a little swampy at the other end.”

Noah’s eyes flickered toward Jenny’s retreating form and he allowed a grin to curl the corner of his mouth. “Miss Jenny surely is a nice lady,” he said quietly. “My woman thinks you’re taken with the girl, Mr. Shay.”

“She’s out of my class, Noah.” And yet he could not resist another look in her direction. She’d halted by the pasture fence to talk to the mare, and her dress was hiked up, exposing slim ankles. How he knew they were slim from this distance was a mystery, yet Shay would have gambled his bank account on the fact. “She deserves a gentleman, someone worthy of her.” If his words sounded harsh Noah paid no mind, but chuckled beneath his breath.

“She deserves more than that, Mr. Shay. But what she needs is a man to bring her to life, somebody who’ll put a spark in her eye and roses in her cheeks.” As if he’d said more than he intended, Noah lowered himself to the ground once more and shifted his hat over his eyes, his body visibly relaxing like a sleepy hound dog in the sun.

Jenny fanned herself with a hand-painted, pleated-paper specimen she’d found in the attic. “Do you think the corn is tall enough to cultivate?” she asked idly.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Shay answered. “Up past my knees already.”

They sat on the porch, watching as Noah’s boys carried dishes back to the house. Isabelle fed them nightly in the cabin she shared with her husband, and then the young men, whom Noah still considered his boys, brought the pots and dishes back to the house for washing. It was a complicated procedure, one Jenny had decried as a waste of time and energy, but Isabelle would not be dissuaded. And so the nightly procession continued, with Isabelle washing up after both tables were cleared.

Jenny ate, as usual, in the kitchen, with Marshall serving as a buffer between Shay and herself, his childish questions amusing Shay, and providing Jenny with time to enjoy her meals. She’d long since decided that a five-year-old child was the most inquisitive creature on earth, but Shay seemed to enjoy the boy. Their evening walk was a favorite time for Marshall, and today was no exception.

They’d marched down the lane between overhanging oaks, and Jenny had watched them go, her thoughts in turmoil as she saw Marshall offer his hand to the man who slowed his steps to a child’s pace. Shay looked down at the outstretched fingers for a moment, his hesitation brief, then took the small hand in his own, strolling slowly as though his entire world was circumscribed by the realm of her child’s universe.

What would happen to Marshall when his idol left? she wondered. For sure as the sun rose in the morning and set in the western sky every night, that day would come. Maybe not for a few months, but sooner or later, wanderlust would grip the dark, scarred man who had invaded their lives, and he would leave as he had come. The vision of that tall stallion galloping down her lane, with Shay in the saddle, was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

And that was ridiculous. He was here to help. He’d said he would lend a hand, get them on their feet. He’d talked about picking cotton, harvesting corn and cutting the second crop of hay sometime in August or September. Beyond that, he’d made no promises.

Beyond that, she saw only the bleak days of winter, chilly mornings, a Christmas without funds to buy gifts, save for a few handmade items she and Isabelle would put together. And yet, she could expect nothing more from the man than what he had promised he would give. Carl sent me here…there’ll be four men in the field.

Her chin lifted and she gritted her teeth against the tears that overflowed her lashes, rolling down her cheeks and dampening her bodice. “He’s not gone yet,” she scolded herself quietly. “Land sakes, the man’s only been here two months, and you’re blubbering already about him leaving.” She laughed, a rusty sound with no humor, and from the kitchen behind her Isabelle made a scoffing sound.

Jenny swung her head to find her friend at the door, visible through the screen. “You might’s well dry those eyes,” Isabelle said, her low voice grating out the words. “He’s a man, with a man’s ways, and he’ll try to get past your bedroom door if you let him, Jen. He’ll leave you with another young’un ’neath your apron if you don’t take care.”

“No.” It was softly spoken, but held the steel of her mother’s upbringing in the single syllable. “I’ll not take a man in my bed without a marriage certificate hanging over the headboard, Isabelle. My mama taught me better than that.”

“And that one—” Isabelle waved her hand in the direction of the two male creatures who meandered down the long lane “—that one’ll sweet-talk you with promises and make you forget everything you ever learned about men. Mark my words, Jen, you’re no match for a man like that.”

Jenny turned away, pierced to the heart by the truth of Isabelle’s predictions. “Maybe not,” she admitted. “But wouldn’t it be grand, even for a little while, to know that sort of loving?” She laughed aloud. “Listen to me, Isabelle. I’m spinning dreams out of shadows.”

“Watch your step,” Isabelle said glumly. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you, missy.”

The two figures, one tall and straight, the other small and somehow vulnerable, even from this distance, turned and headed back to the house. Then they halted, and Shay bent low, picking up the boy and lifting him high, only to settle him on his wide shoulders. One arm raised in a broad wave and Marshall called out in a clear piping voice, “See me, Mama? I’m taller than anybody!”

The walk back was taken at a faster clip, with Shay trotting the last several yards, depositing Marshall on the porch with a flourish. “There you go, Marsh,” he said, lifting his hand to smooth back his hair. Marshall had ruffled it, running his fingers through the dark length as he held tightly to his makeshift steed. Now, Shay’s long fingers combed it into place, and Jenny watched each movement of his hand.

Marshall snuggled next to her on the edge of the porch and looked up with a grin that squinted his eyes and brought out the dimples in his cheeks. “Did you see me, Mama? Did you see me riding on Mr. Shay’s shoulders?”

She nodded, wiping at a speck of dirt on his cheek, then allowed her hand to cup his nape. “I saw you, sweetheart. You were the tallest man on the place.” She looked up at Shay and was lost in his gaze. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Marshall has missed having a man around the place. He trots after Noah, but I’m afraid he gets in the way much of the time.”

“He won’t be in my way, Miss Jenny,” Shay told her quietly. “Never.”

She smiled and felt an unmistakable tremble in her lower lip. Lowering her head, she buried the telltale sign of emotion against Marshall’s hair.

“Jenny?” Shay spoke her name, a questioning lilt in the syllables. And then he touched her, one hand reaching to press carefully on her shoulder. “I won’t hurt you, Jenny.”

She felt Marshall’s head swivel, heard his indrawn breath, and closed her eyes as he spoke words that dropped from his lips like hot coals. “Don’t you ever hurt my mama. That big man did, a long time ago, and he made my mama cry.”

Jenny swallowed a gasp and lifted Marshall to his feet. “No one is going to hurt your mama, Marshall,” she said firmly. “Now run in the house and let Isabelle get you ready for bed.” Marshall’s soft lips pressed a damp kiss against her cheek and he hugged her neck tightly.

“I love you, Mama.” It was meant as a whisper, but his reedy tones vibrated in the silence, and she was hard put not to shed tears of thanksgiving for the tender heart of her child.

“I love you, too,” she answered, turning him in the direction of the door. “I’ll be up to hear your prayers in a few minutes.”

And then she turned back to Shay.

Chapter Four

Shay’s eyes were narrow slits, his mouth a thin line. He gestured toward the door behind Jenny, his hand slicing the air. “What man was Marshall talking about? Who was he?”

Jenny’s heart sank. There were things she’d managed to tuck into a place marked as the past, things she chased from her mind when they poked their ugly heads into view. The subject Marshall had brought to Shay’s attention with such childish innocence was one she’d determined to forget. And now it faced her head-on, brought to life again by a memory she’d thought long gone from her child’s mind.