The Preacher’s Daughter

by Cheryl St. John

  “Nice,” was all he could say. He released her hair and grazed his fingertips along her jaw.

  Her eyelids fluttered shut and trembled before sweeping open and fixing him with a yearning gaze. He could get lost in the depths of her tawny eyes and never want to find his way out.

  Without hesitation he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  She inhaled and sighed as though taking in the essence of him. He loved kissing her. He’d never realized this simple expression would be so tender and feel so wholesome and right. Her lips felt good against his.

  The rightness was because she was pure and innocent and her reactions were chaste. A man like Carter might take advantage of that. Ben cared too much about protecting her.

  He backed away. “Ready to go?”

  “Aren’t you going to show me your house?”

  “Not much to see,” he said with a shrug. “But sure.”

  He turned down the wicks to extinguish the lanterns and made sure she pulled her shawl around her shoulders before leading her out and across the yard to the house.

  “I use the back door.” He opened the screen door with a creak of hinges.

  He found matches and lit the lamps as well as a lantern he could carry to show her the rest of the house. “This is pretty much how it looked when I bought the place,” he told her. “Haven’t done much except clean it up and stock the pantry.”

  Lorabeth followed him as he led her into a hallway and showed her the dining room, the tiny parlor and his bedroom. The rooms were clean, the furnishings practical and serviceable, but there wasn’t really much of himself here.

  “It’s nice,” she said, as though feeling obligated to comment.

  “It’s just a place to work.” With a shrug, he led her back to the rear door. “The house in town is more like a home.”

  “Will you show me?”

  “If you like.”

  He took her hand to lead her across the darkened yard to the buggy and helped her up. Lorabeth pulled the blanket around her shoulders for the ride.

  “Time to get winter coats out,” he commented.

  “I’ve ordered a new one from Miss Eva’s catalog,” she told him. “It has a matching hat and a fur-lined muff. Quite fashionable.”

  “Sounds warm. And pretty.”

  The horse pulled them toward town.

  “I have several paintings for you to choose from,” Ben said. “Never got around to bringin’ ’em to you.”

  “Paintings?”

  He nodded. “Remember when you moved your things into your room? I told you I had pictures for the walls that Ellie had left behind. You’re welcome to ’em.”

  “I might like one or two,” she replied.

  The house was dark, of course, though next door Mrs. McKinley’s lights were burning in her downstairs windows. Ben pulled the buggy back to the carriage house and took Lorabeth’s hand again.

  Enormous spirea bushes flanked the back porch stairs, their blooms long gone. Ben unlocked the door and lit lamps.

  He observed Lorabeth’s reaction to the enormous kitchen with its long trestle table and scarred chairs. The floor was smooth and shiny from the recent refinishing. Ben gestured to the brick chimney. “There’s even a fireplace. The pictures are in the dining room. I leaned them up against the wall.”

  She followed him as he carried the lantern and lit more lamps.

  Lorabeth knelt to the framed paintings along the wall and looked from one to the next. “They’re all lovely,” she said. “Why didn’t Ellie take them?”

  “I think Caleb’s first wife might’ve picked ’em out. Ellie bought more for the new house when they moved.”

  “Oh. I see.” The paintings Benjamin offered her were done in beautiful colors and of various subjects. She passed over the country scenes, drawn to a depiction of two young girls sitting in a meadow. Their skirts made circles around them in the grass as they created dainty flower chains. “I like this one.”

  “Good. It’s too girly for me.”

  She glanced up at his smile. “How about this one?”

  She pointed to a portrait of a young girl wearing a bonnet. A bluebird had perched on a nearby limb. The colors were red and blue with soft white accents.

  “Good choices for your room.” He picked them up. “I’ll put them near the back door.”

  He took her farther into the house, then, showed her a large parlor with an expanse of windows, and a study with bookshelves built along the walls and a heavy dark wood desk. A framed oil painting of hunting dogs hung over the fireplace.

  “Bought that one myself,” he told her. “Brought it back from Chicago.”

  “I would love to see Chicago.”

  “Newton’s a big city itself, you know,” he told her. “Some of the towns along the railroad are made up of a train depot, a livery and a couple of saloons.”

  “Truly?”

  He nodded.

  “I guess it’s not necessarily the big city I want to see as much as the world outside of my small existence.”

  “Your dream of takin’ a train trip,” he remembered aloud. “Did you ever think about workin’ at the Arcade? Those girls get free tickets to wherever they want to go.”

  “My father wouldn’t even consider allowing me to work there. Or to go to a university. It took months of assurance for him to let me work for your sister.”

  Ben nodded thoughtfully. “He was protectin’ you.”

  “He was smothering me,” she said, and then immediately regretted her words. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken so unkindly. You’re right, he always had my best interests in mind.” She shivered and rubbed her palms together.

  “Want somethin’ warm to drink?” Benjamin asked. “I can make coffee.”

  “Do you have milk and cocoa? We could have hot chocolate by the fireplace. I can do it.”

  He nodded. “I’ll help you start the stove and then set a fire in this grate.”

  It was obvious that Benjamin had spent more time and energy making this place a home than he had the other house. Even for a bachelor’s home, the kitchen was well stocked and the cupboards held matching dishes and adequate cooking utensils.

  She found mugs and a tray and carried their hot drinks to the study where Benjamin had a fire blazing. She set the tray on the braided rug and they seated themselves on the floor.

  “I would spend all my time in here if this was my house,” she told him.

  He took the mug she held toward him. “It’s my favorite room. It was Caleb’s study when they lived here.”

  Lorabeth imagined the house filled with voices and laughter, the smell of Sunday dinner in the air. “You’re blessed to be part of the Chaney family.”

  His gaze traveled to hers.

  “Dr. and Mrs. Chaney have something rare and special,” she said. “You mentioned Dr. Chaney’s first wife. I don’t remember her.”

  He looked at the fire for a moment. “Matthew told me she was never happy here. She wanted to live in a big city.”

  “I don’t want to live in a big city,” Lorabeth told him. She didn’t want him to think she’d be a discontented wife. “I’d just like to see one.”

  “She died after Nate was born. He needed someone to take care of Nate and that’s how he and Ellie met.”

  “Was your mother alive then?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “You must’ve been pretty young then. Where did you and Ellie and Flynn live?”

  Ben took a sip of his drink before forming a reply. “Ellie was workin’ at the Arcade.”

  “That’s right. She was a Harvey Girl.”

  He nodded. “Flynn and I were working on a farm near Florence.”

  “Working? You were just children.”

  “The state gave us to a foster family.”

  She hadn’t known anything about that. “So this other family took care of you?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it.” His
tone revealed pain she was sorry to dredge up.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “You weren’t pryin’.” But he didn’t say any more on the subject.

  Would talk of his growing-up years always be off-limits?

  “I enjoyed takin’ you to the harvest dance. I was real proud to dance with you.”

  “I wasn’t very good at it.”

  “I didn’t mean because of your dancin’ ability, I mean because of what a fine woman you are.”

  His high opinion, along with the radiating heat from the fire, warmed her through and through. She draped her shawl over the arm of the chair behind her. “Just a simple Kansas girl,” she said with a shrug. “Never been farther than Topeka, and I don’t know beans about much other than gardening or keeping house.”

  “Now, that’s not so.”

  “No? What else do I know about?”

  “Croquet and paper dolls and playin’ the piano. Flynn said you help him with his mathematic assignments. You kiss bumps and bruises. You’re wise and honest. And I’ve personally seen you talkin’ with a cat.”

  She laughed. “Yes, of course. Cat language is one of my gifts.”

  “Just one of many,” he added. “This is probably the best hot cocoa I’ve ever tasted.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “It is.” He paused, ducking his chin as though he was embarrassed. “I bought somethin’ for you….”

  Her heart lifted in expectancy. Gifts were unheard of in her upbringing. “What is it?”

  “You might think it’s silly.”

  “I won’t. What is it?”

  “It’s not much really. I was just thinkin’ of you when I was in the mercantile.” He got up and went to the desk, where he opened the top drawer and took out something flat and rectangular. He carried it back and sat across from her, extending the object.

  “What is it?”

  “Look.”

  She accepted it and read the blue wrapper. “Chocolate. Made in Switzerland.”

  “Do you like chocolate?”

  “I think so. I’ve never had one of these. I use cocoa powder to bake.”

  “Well, unwrap it and try it.”

  “Right now?”

  “Why not?”

  She carefully peeled away the wrapper and tin foil, exposing a solid bar of chocolate.

  “Go ahead. Break off a piece,” Benjamin said.

  She did, then placed the bite in her mouth and let it melt on her tongue. Lorabeth closed her eyes. Chocolate was a hundred times better than jelly beans! It melted into a creamy-textured delight.

  After swallowing, she ran her tongue over her teeth and the roof of her mouth. “Imagine,” she said. “The people in Switzerland must try this every day while they’re making it.”

  “Gonna share?”

  She extended the wrapper for him to break off his own piece. He chewed slowly.

  “Could be they do,” he replied. “In between bites of cheese, o’ course.”

  They laughed together over that.

  Lorabeth put another bite of chocolate in her mouth.

  This time she chewed.

  Benjamin reached between them to touch his thumb to the corner of her lips. A twig in the fire snapped and a log hissed. She met his eyes with a yearning desire to have more and know more…to have it all. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “Seems I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, Lorabeth.”

  “What is it you think of?”

  “Your smile. Your shiny hair.” His gaze caressed her lips and hair. “About kissin’ you.”

  “I think about that, too,” she admitted.

  He leaned toward her and she met him halfway. They both moved in closer, and Lorabeth rested her fingertips on the front of his shirt.

  With their lips nearly touching, she said, “Sometimes I think about you so much, nothing else seems real.”

  Their lips met, and Lorabeth noticed the warmth, tasted the chocolate. His kiss was too gentle and unsettling for the hunger that quivered inside. She hooked her arm around his neck, and he responded by folding her into a hard embrace.

  She loved the feel of her breasts crushed to his hard chest, his strong arms banding her. She’d never been this close to another person, never felt lovable or desirable or wanted. Benjamin’s embrace awakened her body to the hard planes of his chest and the wild beat of his pulse under her palm. She wanted to hold on to his solid presence, press herself into his heart and make herself indispensable.

  He tore his mouth from hers to trail fiery kisses across her chin and down her neck. Lorabeth let her head fall back while shivers of pleasure washed across her shoulders and encompassed her whole being. If she’d been standing she would have collapsed in a heap.

  Benjamin brought his lips back to hers, and she eagerly framed his face in both hands. He leaned over her, and this time their bodies lowered from where they sat until they lay side by side, Benjamin’s welcome weight pressing against her.

  Giving herself over to yearning, she threaded her fingers into his hair, along his scalp, and pressed one hand to the back of his head. He trailed his fingertips down her neck and brought his hand to the front of her dress. At the feel of his touch against her breast, Lorabeth’s heart raced.

  His touch was as lyrical as a poem and his mouth as sweet as the ripest fruit. Set me as a seal upon thine heart, she prayed. Make me his. He’d become her heart’s desire. I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me. The fact that he desired her was amazing. Almost too good to be true.

  Lorabeth cherished the perfection of being in his arms, the tender way he held her. Her senses were more acute than they’d ever been. She smelled the soap he’d used that day, felt the heat of the fire along her side, saw the golden glint on his hair and lashes.

  All her yearning, magical dreams were coming true. Her secret yearnings were being fulfilled one by one, and it was even better than she’d hoped. Benjamin was the man she’d prayed for.

  His thick silken hair in her hands was a sensual thrill. Lorabeth trailed her fingers through it, along his neck to his jaw.

  She wanted to touch more of him. She caressed his broad shoulders through the crisp fabric of his shirt, loving the solid feel of muscle beneath smooth warm flesh. He was so much broader and stronger than she, creating a perfect foil to her softness.

  Benjamin cupped his palm around her breast and kneaded in a gentle yet breathtaking fashion. She’d never imagined that intimacy could feel so good and so right.

  She loved the feel of his lips on hers, the weight of his body along her side.

  Benjamin drew his mouth away and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. His breath fanned her skin there, sending shudders through her body.

  “I prayed for you,” she whispered.

  Ben raised his head. “What did I need prayer for?”

  “No, I mean I prayed for you,” she said again. “For God to send you to me.”

  He wasn’t so sure he was God’s answer to anyone’s prayers. The way he felt toward her right now wasn’t exactly holy. He’d wanted to kiss her again, had craved a taste of her, but it wasn’t enough. The feelings he had were taking on new proportions.

  She was a preacher’s daughter, raised in a strict environment and protected her entire life. Until now. Until she’d met him.

  A pulse of concern beat in his heart. Her father had entrusted his precious daughter with Ben’s family. He’d turned Lorabeth’s safety over to them, and Ben didn’t want to give in to becoming the kind of man he’d vowed never to be. How could he protect her when he was the one she needed protection from? All he wanted right now was to touch her all over, take her up to his bed and make her his.

  Heat engulfed him, and he moved away, taking her hand and helping her to a sitting position.

  “I should get you home,” he managed.

  She straightened her clothing and hair, and the sight of her breasts beneath her dress speared him with want.

&nbs
p; “I know all about self-control,” she told him. “My whole life has been about self-control. I’ve had my fill of holding back and living up to other people’s expectations.”

  He glanced at her in surprise. Her lips were pink and swollen from their kisses, and he wanted to capture her mouth again, but he looked away instead. He knew all about self-control, too. He was a master at it.

  He’d worn belligerence like armor as a youth, hadn’t trusted a soul except Ellie until Caleb had come into their lives. Impotent rage had been his constant companion until he’d had to let it go or lose his mind. He may be jaded and pragmatic, but he wasn’t living an illusion or pretending to be anything other than who and what he was. And what he was scared the hell out him most of the time. More so now than ever because he’d learned how weak he really was. Lorabeth had revealed his weakness. And it was her.

  He wanted her.

  But she was so unaffected and eager and beautiful that she scared him. She was a butterfly emerged from a cocoon and riding the winds of waking up to a whole new world that had opened before her.

  She was bright and eager and trusting. Too trusting.

  What would happen if he didn’t shield her? He had warned her, and he could continue to warn her, but warnings weren’t experience.

  “Tell me what you asked God for,” he said, sitting back with one knee in front of him like a barrier.

  “Well, someone handsome,” she said hesitantly, “though that wasn’t the first trait or the most important, but I didn’t want a man I didn’t find appealing. I hope that’s not shallow of me. But I didn’t want a vain person, of course. I asked Him for a husband filled with life and passion who would show me everything I’d been missing.”

  “Husband?” Ben asked, hearing that word above all the others.

  “Carter said what you and I have been doing is courting. And courting suggests marriage, does it not?”

  He hadn’t planned to court her, hadn’t thought the words in his head, but he’d wanted to monopolize her, keep her to himself. Was he courting her?

  Her idealism and romantic hopes touched him. She was open and guileless. She thought he was what she’d been praying for. The thought made his chest ache at the probability of disappointing her. She had no idea.