Speak Through the Wind by Allison Pittman Read Free Book Online Page B

hair. “Or here?” He moved his hand to the back of her head, tilting it back, moving his lips just to her hairline.
    Kassandra fought for breath and balance.
    “Does he ever,” Ben said, letting go of the back of her head and running a finger along her lips, “kiss you here?”
    “Of course not,” Kassandra said, jerking her head to the side to dislodge Ben’s finger. “He’s like a father to me.”
    “All, but he’s not your father, is he, love?”
    Kassandra said nothing, but looked down in shame.
    “And since he’s not your father, he doesn’t have any real claim to you, now does he?”
    “He cares for me,” Kassandra said, keeping her eyes focused on the floor.
    “But if I kissed you here,” Ben grasped her chin and forced Kassandra to look at him, running his thumb along her lips, “I’d have a claim to you, now wouldn’t I? Would you like that? Would you like me to have a claim to you?”
    “I don’t know,” Kassandra said, her lips moving against his roughened skin.
    “Well, would you like me to kiss you?”
    She didn’t know that, either, but apparently Ben wasn’t interested in her answer, because in the next instant she was drawn full to him, his arms circled around her, his lips on hers, his smile becoming a part of her as he brought her closer.
    Kassandra’s arms hung limply at her side, her fingers twitching nervously as the comb dropped unheeded to the floor. Her mind raced. She knew she should feel embarrassed or wicked; a good girl would bring up those hands and push Ben away But she could no more command her hands than she could her heart, which she could feel pounding against her clean white cotton chemise. All the fear, all the discomfort she’d felt when he insulted her education, mocked her life with Reverend Joseph, even the nauseating accusations against the reverend’s character disappeared as the sweetness of his kiss took command.
    When Ben slowly, gently, teased her mouth to open, just a bit, every drop of blood was drawn from her, leaving her body powerless to stand on its own, on the verge of collapse saved only by the strength of Ben’s arms now wrapped tight around her. She fell against his chest, the pounding pulse in her head drowning out every sound except the breathing of this redheaded boy and—somewhere—the click of a door handle and a familiar heavy step.
    “Get out of my kitchen.”
    Clara’s steely voice cut through the fog in Kassandra’s head. She brought her hands up, pushed herself away from Ben’s embrace, and spun to face the formidable figure filling the doorway.
    “You must be Clara,” Ben said, his voice full of humor and charm.
    Clara said nothing, only stepped away from the open door, clearing the way for Ben’s exit, never taking her withering glare off Kassandra, who stood frozen in fear, unable to look away.
    “All right then,” Ben said, his voice never losing its bounce. He crossed the kitchen, but stopped just short of the door. “Oops,” he turned and took a step to the side, standing between Clara and Kassandra. “Forgot my hat.”
    Kassandra looked up, saw the mischievous glint in his eyes, and felt a tiny wave of comfort wash over her. Ben sent her a wink, and she was powerless not to reward it with a smile. Then, with a few quick steps, he was back at the open doorway, his cap nestled at a jaunty angle in his mass of red curls.
    “Shall I have Mr. Sampson put the delivery on your bill, Miss Clara? Or would you like to pay me now?”
    Once again, Clara said nothing.
    “Right then, it’s on account.”
    He was whistling before the door was shut.
    “Now, missy, suppose you tell me what I just seen,” Clara said once the diminishing whistled tune left the kitchen with a heavy silence.
    “I don’t know.” Kassandra was no longer able to meet Clara’s eyes. Looking down at the floor, she saw the comb lying just next to her boot. She gave it a slight kick, sending it skittering under the table, and hoped to retrieve