Read Online When the Black Roses Grow by Angela Christina Archer - Free Book Online

unexpected volume. Utterly embarrassed, with my mouth still covered, I simply shook my head again.
    He leaned in close to me, his breath whispered against my skin.
    Heat spread through my veins and my heart raced.
    “Contrary to what other men think, Emmalynn, I do not believe that women are the Devil’s instruments. I believe they are wonderful creatures that should not only be provided for, but cared for.”

FIVE
    The last drop of milk dripped from the udder, and I wiped the sweat from my brow as the cow happily chewed her morning breakfast. Her tail swished from side to side at the flies buzzing around us, the long tuff of hair slapped against my arm.
    Even through my tedious morning chores, the memories of the lovely night before replayed. I had forgotten the enjoyment of a man’s company, forgotten the peaceful calm that came after laughter, and forgotten the heart racing moments spurred by conversation with the one you desired.
    The shared longing glances from across the table, the ever so gentle graze of his fingers across thy arm, or thy fingers across thy neck to gain his attention—all hints of foreplay I hath lacked for so long, and all enjoyed along with his insinuations.
    His eyes fixed upon you even though yours danced around, in a stare hard with lust that teased as though it would turn into love and last a lifetime.
    The tightened arm muscles that seemed to clench even more when touched, whether on accident or on purpose, though you act as though it was an accident. They react just how you wanted them to react. Subtle hints that sparked intrigue and passion with a forceful tension you did not know if you would survive or fall prey to and lose control.
    I rose to my feet, fetched the milk pail from under the cow’s belly, and set it by the fence. My imagination toyed with thoughts of James. Perhaps, even standing in the pen with me, after morning chores, he would take me into his arms and, quite scandalously, ask me to dance.
    “Dance? With me? Here? Now?” I laughed to myself and waved my hand around. “Certainly, you must be teasing, James.” I spun around in a few circles, mimicking the steps that my father taught me long ago, even though it was a sin.
    “My you are simply a lovely dancer,” I mocked in a deep man-like voice. “Oh, why thank you.” My lady-like voice responded in a one-on-one conversation that I pretended to act out as though in a play I had heard my parents speaking about when I was young.
    “Good morning,” a voice called out behind me.
    I spun on my heel, meeting Adalene’s confused gaze.
    “Good morning.” I cleared my throat and kicked at a rock near the toe of my shoe.
    Hesitantly, she raised one arm, showing me the milk pail that swayed from her fingers. “Can thee spare an old woman some milk?”
    “Certainly.”
    She glided through the gate of the cow pen then set her pail at my feet. Her head cocked to one side as her eyes twitched in an odd knowing confusion. “Were you dancing with anyone in particular?”
    A lump caught in my throat and I shook my head. “I do not know what you mean. I was just trying to wipe the dust off my dress.”
    “He watches you, you know, just as you watch him.”
    “Who watches me?”
    “Mr. DeKane. I see the two of you all the time, around town, at service.”
    “I do not know what you speak of. I do not watch anyone.”
    “I see the interest in one another. He is intrigued by thy every movement and every breath, just as you are by his.”
    My blood ran cold through my veins. “Thou ought to pay attention in service, Miss McCarven, instead of dream up imagined pictures in thy mind. You might miss a particularly significant sermon.”
    “A significant sermon? From thy hated reverend?” She laughed, only it was not an amused laugh. She stepped closer to me, until her body stood inches from mine. “He doth not belong to you, Miss Hawthorne. He belongs to another.”
    “If he belongs to another, then why doth he visit