“I am more than willing,” she said quietly. “But I must tell you something.”
“Later, you may speak all you like. For now, you have told me what I wanted to hear,” he said, lifting her, cradling her within his firm hold and making his way carefully down the aisle.
“Where—” The single word was halted by his command.
“Hush. I will not put you in a stall, Leah. There is fresh hay against the wall, waiting for the morning. I would not lay you on the floor without softness beneath you.”
She was lowered, and felt herself sink into a measure of hay that allowed her comfort. But before she could catch her balance within the soft nest, his hands were on her clothing, his big fingers clumsy at the buttons of her dress.
It was dealt with readily, the sleeves shoved down so her arms could escape, her underwear his next target. He undid the buttons of her chemise more easily. His callused fingers opened it fully, the edge of his nails brushing against the rise of her breasts.
She caught her breath, her flesh responding as his hand splayed wide on her chest, then slid beneath the fine lawn fabric of her chemise to enclose the generous curves beneath.
“You have beautiful breasts, Leah,” he whispered, and in the deep shadows his head was a darker form, bending to her as a supplicant might, his mouth damp against the virgin flesh of her bosom.
“How can you tell, here in the dark?” Was that her voice? That sound that whispered from between her lips?
His laughter was low, breathed out against her damp skin. “I have looked at them every day, and now I feel them against my lips and tongue and hold them in my hands. They are more beautiful than I dreamed.
“My Leah…this is a part of marriage I thought I could live without.” His voice turned bitter as he continued. “I made do without a woman’s touch for a long time, until the night Hulda came to me, well over a year ago. Since then I have been without hope, with no way to be a man as I should be. Until you came into my life.”
He lifted his weight from her, his mouth making a trail against her throat and pressing hot kisses against her flesh.
“Let me take your dress off,” he whispered. “Lift up, Leah.”
And she did, following his instructions, sitting silently as he spread the wide skirt beneath her bare back, and shivering as his warm hands lowered her once more to the bed of hay.
His fingers were agile, loosening the ties of her drawers, and his hands slipped them down her legs with deft movements. Words escaped his lips, a blend of English and his native tongue, and she heard his voice break as his hand brushed the curls where her thighs met, pressed tightly together.
“Too soon, too soon,” he murmured, as if he chastised himself. “Ah, Leah! You are so much woman, so soft, almost ready for me.” He covered her with his body, lifting to touch and tease her breasts for long moments. Then his mouth found her, his lips and teeth forming the pouting crest as he suckled.
Leah’s hands threaded through his hair, and her eyes closed. Torn between the sudden shaft of pure pleasure that darted through her body and the knowledge that the deepest secret of her life was about to be revealed, she cast aside the apprehension that had gripped her. She could not bear it if admitting to the deceit in her life now were to call a halt to this pleasure he offered. If there were consequences to be borne, she would handle them later.
Leaving the bounty of her bosom, he moved upward, his mouth skimming her throat, her shoulder and then her lips in a kiss that was tender yet eager. She met the thrusting of his tongue with her own, and her fears dissolved beneath the heated exploration of her mouth. He left her lips after long moments—reluctantly it seemed—and yet, as if he had other worlds to conquer, he moved on.
His lips suckled beneath her ear, then his tongue probed within, and she laughed softly at the sensation he offered.
His open lips pressed hot caresses the length of her neck, then his teeth opened against her shoulder and she shivered at the firm edge that raked her flesh. “I would not hurt you,” he whispered. She clutched him closer, eager for whatever he might do, her body yearning for whatever he gave.
His hands measured her, widening against her stomach, then sweeping over her belly to linger where her womanhood wept for his touch. She held her breath as his fingers explored, heard the high, keening note of surrender that escaped her lips as he penetrated that hidden place, and then shivered at the pleasure he brought to her.
His breath was warm, his mouth urgent, as if he would savor the taste of her flesh. Then he caught the tight crest of her breast within his lips and her hips rose in a reflex she could not control, whispering his name as he suckled.
“Ah, Leah!” His breath was hot, his words muffled against her breast. “So soft, so warm.” He slid upward, his hand leaving her woman’s flesh as he rose to his knees, spreading her thighs to allow him room. His hands were between their bodies and she heard the rustle of his clothing. Then he bent low, spilling kisses across her stomach, his hands lifting her legs.
She was churning within, her arms and legs unable to do her bidding, only capable of obeying his dictates as he moved her beneath his body. “Put your arms around me, Leah,” he whispered, and she did as he asked.
“Lift your leg, just a little more.” His big hands were gentle against her tender skin, and she obliged him willingly.
The fire he had kindled within her belly raged unquenched, his caressing hands and seeking lips only adding to the flame that threatened to burn her beyond redemption.
And then he pressed against her, there where no man had entered.
His groan was muffled against her throat as he bent over her, his words of praise like music to her ears as he whispered of her beauty. She pressed upward against him, seeking his manhood with every ounce of her strength, accepting the piercing of her flesh.
The pain was small and easily ignored, for she had known it would come, but the rapture of his possession radiated throughout her body. Hot tears of joy slipped from her eyes as she celebrated this moment with the man she had married.
He was within her, pulsing and full, and she wrapped her legs around his, holding him fast against her as his big body jerked above her and his seed found its home. And then he retreated, slowly and with reluctance, it seemed.
“Gar?” she asked, bewilderment lacing the single word. Surely there was more, more than this ache that remained within her.
“You were a virgin, Leah. How is that possible?” His hands were still buried in her hair, clenching now as he rose over her.
“You are not what you have pretended to be. I think I deserve to know what manner of woman I have married.”
Her words trembled, tears melding with anger that he could turn such beauty into ugliness. “You married a virgin, Garlan Lundstrom.”
“But why?” He rolled from her, leaving her bereft, the hay swallowing her form, and for a moment she was tempted to pull great handfuls of it to cover her nakedness, lest he see her in the dark.
“It was a lie, my marriage,” she admitted quietly. “I could not be a midwife and be unmarried. It simply is not done, Gar. There is no husband buried in the city.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that? Do I mean so little to you that such a secret should remain between us?”
“You told me when we married that you would sleep alone and I would do the same,” Leah reminded him.
“But tonight, when you knew what I intended…” His growl of frustration was loud in her ear as he rolled back to her side. “I was not careful with you, Leah. I could have hurt you badly. Surely you know that!”
“Weren’t you?” She lifted her hand to twine her fingers through his hair. “You took my maidenhead with care, Gar. I thought you showed me great tenderness. I wanted to tell you, but then I could think of nothing but what you did to me. My mind was not on the lie I told, but the truth I was about to discover.”
“Truth? What truth, Leah?”
“That the blending of man and woman is a
joyous thing, Gar. That a man is made to be taken inside a woman’s body, to bring pain and pleasure combined.”
“I fear there was no pleasure for you.” He touched her face with his fingertips, his words soft with an unspoken apology. “I fear I hurt you, no matter what you say.”
“Only a little.” She tugged at the lock of hair she held.
“Come with me now,” he said gruffly, rising to his feet. He adjusted his clothing, then reached for her. His hands were gentle as he helped her into her dress, shaking it out and dropping it over her head.
“My chemise…” She caught sight of a pale shadow against the floor as Gar bent to pick it up.
“I have the rest of your things,” he told her, turning her toward the door. His arm was firm against her waist, his hand inches from the curve of her breast, and she leaned into his strength.
They walked in the moonlight. He watched her, meeting her gaze but not answering her smile. As if he spoke words that pronounced their future, he paused at the porch, gaining her full attention.
“You have slept alone for the last time, Leah. Tonight we’ll sleep together in the room I built for my wife. For the first time,” he said, lifting his hands to cup her face, “I will open my eyes in that room in the morning and find my wife next to me in that bed.”
Chapter Ten
Gar watched as creamy gravy was ladled over biscuits, wondering if Leah was aware that her hand trembled. She brought the plate to him, standing beside him as it thumped from her grasp to the tabletop.
“It slipped,” she said faintly, turning aside. But not quickly enough to escape the hand that enclosed her wrist with a firm grip.
“Leah? Will you look at me?” he asked. It hurt that even now she could not meet his gaze. That she had looked upon him with wide, startled eyes upon awakening and then buried her head beneath the sheet to escape his touch.
Or so it had seemed at the time. Now that he thought about it, she had behaved exactly as a blushing bride would on the morning after her wedding. And he had been too big a dunderhead to see it. And so he had left her there, instead of searching her out beneath the covers and claiming her lips as he’d been tempted to do.
He’d carried her to the house last night and up the stairs, feeling like a man on his wedding night, whispering those words as they crossed the threshold. He had explored her body with curious hands, his memories of those hurried minutes in the barn too incomplete to suit him.
She had allowed it, had drawn in her breath several times and moved beneath his palm. But she was too new to this game of loving, and he would not give her pain while the hurt was fresh inside her body.
At dawn he’d left her in the big bedroom he’d built for his bride, left her with the sheet covering her sunstreaked hair and forming itself to her curves. And then he’d thought of nothing else but that luscious form as he milked his cows and let them out into the pasture for the day.
She sat down across the table, her words directed at Kristofer and the baby, and Gar reached to touch her hand.
“Leah.” Her name was soft, he decided, listening to the sound he breathed.
Her gaze touched their hands, his atop hers, his fingers darkly tanned, thick and long, hers slender and golden beneath. And then she looked up at him. Like those of a startled fawn, her eyes found his, then darted away.
“Are you well?” he asked, and watched as a blush climbed to ride the ridge of her cheekbones.
“Yes, of course.” She leaned to Karen. “Open wide, sweetkins. The oatmeal is good this morning.”
“Oatmeal?” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded hopeful.
“I made it for the baby, with a little for Kristofer. She can’t eat sausage and gravy yet. It is too spicy for her and Kristofer isn’t overly fond of it.”
“If there’s any oatmeal left over, I could eat a little,” Gar said, digging into his plateful of food.
“You can have mine, Pa,” Kristofer offered.
“I thought you liked oatmeal, Kris,” Leah said, frowning as the boy shoved his bowl across the table.
“I do,” he said, sliding from his chair. “But Lars said his sister is coming with him this morning to pick out a puppy, and I want to be in the barn when she gets here.”
“Don’t let her choose the last female,” Gar cautioned, “and be sure to tell her she can’t have the pup until he is weaned.”
“She knows that, Pa. She just wants a pick before we sell them all.”
The screen door slammed behind the boy, and Gar turned back to Leah. “You didn’t answer me.” He reached for Kristofer’s rejected bowl and dug his spoon into its depths.
“I’m fine.”
“You move slowly today, Leah. I fear I hurt you last night.”
“Do we have to talk it about, Gar?”
“You don’t look at me when you speak, Leah. Have I made you angry with me? You hid beneath the sheet this morning.”
The spoon Leah held hit the table with a clatter, bits of oatmeal splattering the oilcloth. Karen laughed aloud, obviously pleased by this turn of events, reaching for the spoon. Only Leah’s quick action kept the baby from attaining her goal as she rose, gathered Karen to her bosom and turned from the table.
“Go out and tend to your animals or cut hay or something! Your blacksmith friend is coming, remember?” Leah’s words were muffled against Karen’s head as she hurried from the kitchen. Gar watched her walk away, noting the faint hitch in her step.
He went after her, catching her against himself in the hallway, his long arms encircling both woman and child. His head bent to allow him access to her cheek, his hands cuddling the baby she held tightly to her breast.
“Please, Leah. Let me know what your thoughts are. I fear you are angry with me, and I don’t want it to be so. I care about you. You are my wife, Leah.”
She slumped in his embrace, turning her cheek so his lips touched the slope of her jaw. “I didn’t consider this happening when we married, Gar. I know it is a natural thing for husband and wife to…” Words seemed to fail her as she shivered within his arms.
Karen’s chubby hands reached for her father over Leah’s shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair, her wide smile evidence of her joy in this encounter with her parents. Gar laughed aloud as he allowed the child liberty.
“Karen is pleased I am hugging you, Leah,” he said, breathing the words into her ear. “I am pleased my arms are around you. That leaves only your opinion to be aired.”
“Maybe I’ll be more used to this in a day or so,” she managed to say after a moment. Gar’s arms loosened their hold on her and she used the additional space between them to turn around, facing him.
Her blue eyes met his squarely. “Karen and I both like your arms around us.” A smile trembled on her lips. “I will do better at this, Mr. Lundstrom. Give me time, please.”
Time? He was already counting the hours until dark should come again and he could find his place beneath the sheet on her bed. His body responded to his thoughts, reflecting her nearness, and he backed away from close contact. He would not offend her in any way, this woman who had become his wife with such sweet surrender.
“My arms have been empty for too long, Leah. They have ached for your warmth. Don’t turn from me.”
She nodded. “I won’t refuse you, Gar.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He searched for the words that would reveal his need of her. “I find myself wanting to touch you, Leah. Not just for what passed between us last night in the barn, but so I can be warmed by your affection. So you will put your arms around me and kiss me, perhaps, and whisper that you like me a little?”
“I don’t need to whisper those words. I do like you. I respect you, and I enjoy spending time with you. I thought you knew all that already.”
He smiled, admiring her rosy cheeks, her eyes that reminded him of cornflowers and blue skies, and most of all, the honesty in her words. “I did know that. Maybe you can find other things to whisper to me,” he s
aid, cocking his head to one side.
Her blush deepened, and her eyes crinkled with the force of her smile. “Why, Garlan Lundstrom, I do believe you are flirting with me!” Gone was the hesitancy in her speech, and in its place he heard a welcome assurance. Perhaps she needed his words to make her know he thought her worthy of his desire.
And that thought brought all sorts of possibilities to mind. The long nights of his celibacy had left him with yearnings aplenty, and the thought of spending his passion on her willing body was almost more than he could stand still for.
“I will share your bed tonight, Leah,” he whispered. “We will be truly husband and wife from now on. And I will be sure you enjoy our coming together this time.”
Bafflement vied with curiosity as she considered him. What was the man talking about? “I enjoyed…” She could not finish the words, her experience not fitting her for such talk between a man and woman.
There was no need apparently. Gar’s laughter rose to shatter her thoughts. “You know so little, my wife.” His eyes lit with a teasing light, and she tilted her head back to consider him.
“I know I am truly your wife, Gar.”
He shook his head. “Perhaps, Mrs. Lundstrom. I will ask you tomorrow if you have learned anything new.”
She backed from him and he let her go, his arms reluctantly falling to his sides. “I must tend to my animals, and what else was it you told me to do? Yah, and ‘cut hay or something.’ And I have not forgotten that Sten Pringle is coming.”
A dimple appeared in his left cheek that she had not noticed before. Perhaps his smile had not been wide enough to bring it into being until now. The temptation to put her finger into the small dent was sudden, and Leah smothered it.
“I must change Karen’s diaper, Gar, and then get busy with my bread making. I don’t have all day to waste just standing around talking.”
“I will be in for dinner when you ring the bell. I have told the men to take their noon meal with us from now on. The days will be long for the rest of the summer, and they need more than a piece of bread from home to tide them over until supper time.”
The Midwife Page 14