The pain in her heart hadn't reached the saturation point. The mention brought fresh hurt. "Yes."
His breath whistled between his teeth. "Damn."
She snuck a look at him. The muscle in his jaw danced like heat lightning. He unbuttoned his shirt halfway, and she averted her eyes. The sight of him never failed to touch her, and allowing him to see that would only humiliate her further. She waited for what he had to say.
"So." He padded to the window but didn't look out. He turned to her again. "You think I'm untrustworthy and a liar, an adulterer, and—what else? I must've left something out."
Lydia's body trembled before the imminent confrontation. She clamped her mouth shut so that her teeth wouldn't clack.
"Well, does that about cover it?" he asked, using the same tone of voice he used to taunt his brothers, a tone he'd never before used with her.
A tear squeezed from the corner of her eye. She couldn't bear to speak of these things. "Jakob, don't."
"Don't what? Don't mention how you didn't trust me enough to come to me with this first? You just agreed." He snapped his fingers in the air. '"Sure, that heathen husband of mine would do that.'" Fists on hips, he stomped back to where she huddled in the bed and bent over her. "Your low opinion is right touching, Lydia," he told her. "Thanks for your confidence."
Lydia watched him. Eyes afire, nostrils flared, he was a glorious sight. She'd missed him. Annoyance flashed in his eyes, and a kindred spark nipped at her, as well. "Are you denying you're in love with Emily?"
Stunned, Jakob moved his lips, but no sound came out. He gaped at her and finally sank to the foot of the bed. "Hellfire! What put a crazy notion like that in your head? Didn't I buzz around you like a bee to a flower until you married me? Didn't I go out of my way to make you comfortable, to meet your needs? I suffered every time I touched you, because I didn't want to put you off. I waited until you were good and ready, waited till I was ready to explode, before I made love to you. What more could I have done to prove myself to you?"
Silence hung in the tiny room. Thunder rolled above the boarding house, and rain pelted the windowpanes. Had she confused things that badly? Had she waited for words of love, when all the time he'd been showing her?
Jakob's hair was drying, turning the pale wheat color she loved. A sob caught in her throat. "But Emily..."
His tortured gaze riveted on hers. Closing the distance between them, he took her shoulders between his massive hands and pulled her to him. "Don't married people need to trust? Lydia, there wasn't anyone before you."
Her skin burned where his hands held her. Something in his eyes changed, melting into earnest appeal. "I promised faithfulness." The unfamiliar roughness in his tone demanded that she acknowledge his sincerity. "Doesn't my word mean something? Do you think I'd take my brother's wife and then lie about it? What kind of man do you think I am? Sometimes you're as bigoted as your father when it comes to Outsiders."
Her mind raced, but coherent thought seemed beyond her with his warm hands holding her, his beloved face inches from hers. A pang of remorse pierced Lydia's soul. How could she have doubted him? She'd been such a fool, so unsure of herself and unsure of his love for her.
"How could you take off and not let me know you were all right?" Heat danced in his eyes, and his gaze fell to her trembling lips. "God, you smell good." He kissed her mouth urgently, bringing a hand to the nape of her neck, where he held her firm.
Lydia watched him in the lamplight for a moment. His pale hair was a shiny halo. He coaxed her lips, and her eyes drifted shut as she allowed herself to savor his fervent kiss.
"Damn you, Lydia, I looked all over Pittsburgh for you," he said against her neck. "I was becoming a laughingstock."
"You went to Pittsburgh?" He'd been looking for her?
"I went to Accord first." He nipped at the sensitive column of her neck. "I was sure you'd go home," he said into the hair at her temple.
"I ran away from my home."
"I mean back to the colony."
"There's nothing for me there."
He bracketed her face with his thumbs and forced her to look at him. "I suppose there's nothing for you in my house anymore, either?"
"Jakob, I'm sorry I believed Anton." She slid her fingers around his wrists. "Jakob, did you ever... with Sylvie?"
"Never." Jakob's pale blue gaze fixed on her lips. "Never with anyone but you. I told you that."
She inhaled his rain-dampened scent, savored his breath on her cheek. His lips closed over hers in a volatile kiss.
His hands released hers to roam the contours beneath her prim cotton nightdress, eliciting a soft moan from her. Pressing her back upon the bed, he insinuated a thigh between hers, whispering how much he wanted her, needed her.
He felt so good. His hungry lips and hard body ignited her senses. Oh, how she had missed him! Despite the misery and pain she'd endured, she'd been despondent without him. Lydia skimmed her palms over his broad shoulders under his shirt, slid her hands inside and across the corn silk matting his chest.
"I'm tired of defending myself, Lydia. Hasn't living with me taught you anything?" He covered her breasts with both hands and kissed her.
His tongue breached her lips, and, in spite of herself, Lydia welcomed it, met it and twined it with her own.
Jakob groaned and pulled her into a sitting position on the bed's edge. He knelt before her, his long, strong fingers fumbling with the infinite row of tiny buttons on her nightdress. She unbuttoned his shirt. He shrugged out of the bothersome material and removed her voluminous white gown. The cotton pooled at her hips and he brushed his lips against her warm sensitive skin.
Nothing in this world made her feel as good as his strong, callused hands gliding across her skin, his hot tongue and lips first drawing sweetly, then ravishing. Her head fell back and she arched against him. He pushed her back on the mattress and continued his keen arousal of her senses. She shivered with delight and listened with mounting excitement to his breathless groans and inarticulate murmurs while he blazed a path to her neck. He nipped her chin and took her mouth feverishly.
"Lydia..." he said, shuddering against her lips. "I thought I'd lost you."
She took his face between her palms and kissed him back.
"I need you," he breathed into her mouth.
"I know." She sensed his urgency. He had always been a gentle and caring lover, sensitive to her every response, whether shy or certain. He interpreted and acted upon every physical message. Tonight, however, he craved a less considerate coupling, and she understood and wanted it as much as he did.
He deserved to know how much she needed him, too. She took his hand and he stood before her. With trembling fingers, she reached for his button fly.
But Jakob performed the task for her, kicking his denims aside. He pressed himself against her, breath hissing through his teeth. She tasted his chest, and he tasted warm and wonderful... like her Jakob. She ran her hands downward and he sucked in his breath.
The muscle in his jaw worked, but anger had nothing to do with it. She trembled deep inside with the love and yearning she felt for this man. She had nearly thrown everything away. Tears sprang to her eyes. "Jakob, love me now," she whispered in German. "Hurry."
The words might be foreign, but her hands spoke eloquently. Jakob responded by ensnaring her in strong arms and falling, pinning her beneath him on the bed. Powerfully he made her a part of him, his need to stamp her with his possession blotting out everything else. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he wasn't gentle, but his pride allowed him grim satisfaction at the fact. Urgently he hurtled them into passionate oblivion.
Sometime during the night the rain stopped. Lydia awoke and listened to the unfamiliar sounds of the street below. Jakob lay tucked snugly along her side, their combined warmth a delicious pleasure.
What kind of man was this husband? Living with him had taught her much about him. He was hardworking and hard-headed, amiable and obstinate—depending on
the day and the subject. The many gifts he'd given her had proven his generosity. He was persuasive—his boyish smile could convince her of anything. He was exciting; she smiled in the darkness, thinking of his titillating lips and hands.
He was eager to please her. He was a gentle, considerate lover and a talented musician. He was many things. But he was always... always honorable.
And she loved him.
Emily had lied to Anton. But since one Outsider lied, did she believe all Outsiders were the same? No more than she believed all colonists were the same inside. Wasn't that why God granted wisdom? Discretion, the ability to tell right from wrong? Her own feelings of shame and inadequacy had gotten in the way, somehow. If she had thought with her heart and not her head—her foolish pride, she wouldn't have doubted Jakob. And she wouldn't have hurt the man she loved deeply.
She loved him and he only needed her. Needed her so much he'd sworn he didn't want to live without her. Needed her so much he'd scoured Pittsburgh. Needed her so much he'd searched her out in a storm. It would have to be enough.
In the hazy gray morning, Lydia woke to sounds of the town coming to life. She ran her hand over the empty spot beside her, and her heart sank.
With relief, she spotted his slicker hung over the back of the chair. She bathed and brushed her hair before he returned minutes later.
Jakob dropped a paper-wrapped bundle on the bed and handed her a plate of biscuits drizzled with honey and a cup of coffee.
"Thank you." She peered at him from beneath her lashes, last night's urgent lovemaking fresh in her mind and on her skin.
He shrugged out of his still-damp denims. The bundle held new trousers, a shirt and socks, and he dressed while she ate. He placed her empty plate on a table near the door and plopped down on the bed's edge. She met his blue gaze hesitantly.
"I was so all-fired mad, I planned to drag you out of here and all the way home if I had to. I can see now that wouldn't do any good. You still wouldn't trust me. You need to decide whether or not you're coming back with me. But remember, you made a vow, same as I made to you. And think about this." He looked her straight in the eye. "What if you're going to have a baby?"
Lydia clamped her teeth on her lower lip, tears blurring her vision. Oh! How could he have known the innermost fear that she hadn't even allowed herself to imagine? What if she was carrying their child? The possibility had hidden in the shadows of her mind for over a week. If and when she did have a baby, she wanted a home and a husband. She wanted to share the fulfillment of her dreams.
"Jakob?"
His blue gaze lifted to her face.
"I have decided. I thought it over during the night."
His face revealed no thoughts within. "And?"
"And, I'm coming home with you."
He sat motionless on the bed's edge, his spine rigid.
Hadn't her decision comforted him? Did he want her to say more? "Not because I might have a baby," she went on. "And not because I have nowhere else to go. I believe I could take care of myself."
He nodded. "I guess you could."
"I let Emily's unfounded lie undermine my faith in you—in myself, too, I realized. I did you an injustice, and I'm sorry." She raised a shaky hand and brushed the hair back from her face in a nervous gesture. It seemed he'd always been the one apologizing, and now it was her turn. "Can you forgive me?"
Jakob's posture relaxed visibly, and he pulled her easily against him. He nudged a strand of dark hair away from her mouth with his nose and kissed her. When he pulled back, he grinned. "I could be convinced."
He stopped the hand she splayed on his chest and twined his fingers through hers. His lips brushed her forehead. "Last night..."
Sensing his thoughts, she raised her face and kissed him. "Last night was perfect."
He squeezed her hand and pulled her tight against his chest. "I was planning to build our foundation this week, but I'd rather stay naked in this boarding house a few more days."
"There are no men allowed on this floor, Jakob. Mrs. Allgood will ask us to leave." Suddenly thinking of something, she pulled away. "Jakob, how did you get her to let you in? You didn't-?"
He brushed her hair away from her breasts and admired them while he chuckled. "No, I didn't hold a gun on her."
"Phew!" She collapsed against him again.
His expression grew serious. "Lydia."
She stared into his clear eyes, love for him overwhelming her. "What?"
"Don't ever leave me again."
Her throat tightened. He needed her. She loved him. He was strong and capable, every inch a dynamic, magnificent man. Yet he was humble enough to admit his need for her. She took his face between her hands. "You have my word." More than my word, Jakob. You have my heart... my soul... my everything ....
Chapter 25
A bright green buggy, the wheels painted white, rolled past, pulled by a fine pair of black horses. Lydia watched with wide eyes and a wider smile. The city hadn't disappointed her. Neither had the man beside her.
Jakob escorted Lydia from the telegraph office. "I promised your mother I'd let her know you're all right, and I figured Pa would want to know, too."
Lydia proudly smoothed the bright blue dress he'd bought her that morning, upon their arrival in Pittsburgh. Captivated by the sights and sounds surrounding her, she walked beside him with a spirited step, animated and talkative. Jakob had answered dozens of questions.
He paused at a corner and nodded toward the building where they'd stopped before. It was constructed of brick, with arched windows and white trim, and its doorway faced the intersection. Above the door, a camera—wooden, with black accordion pleats—hung from an iron rod. A sign read Simon Ulrich, Photographer; Tintypes, Ambrotypes, Daguerreotypes.
"Want to?" Jakob asked.
She glanced up into his face. "What?"
"Have a portrait done."
Their likenesses captured together forever? The thought pleased her immeasurably. She grabbed up his hand. "I'd love to!"
The photographer, a stout gray-haired gentleman with a neat mustache, smiled at the couple. He checked a watch on a gold chain and slid it back into the pocket of his brocade vest. "A wedding photograph, perhaps?"
Jakob smiled into his wife's eyes. "Yes."
They posed solemnly while the photographer hunkered beneath a black drape. One flash, a puff of smoke, and the sitting was over. Later they picked up their portrait. Having never seen a photograph of herself, Lydia stared in fascination.
She perched eternally on a chair, Jakob draped gracefully on its arm, their hands together on his knee. The floral bouquet the photographer had settled in her lap was silk, but appeared real in sepia tones. Her expression was placid, though slightly amused, and her skin was clear and white.
Jakob's face and hands photographed much darker than hers, and his hair was unusually neat. Studying his likeness, she silently thought what a shame it was not to see the vivid color of his eyes, a blue that always surprised her at first glance. The color was so much a part of him, the photograph seemed lifeless without it.
Jakob took her to supper at a distinctive restaurant and rented a carriage to show her the city by night. She snuggled against his side, full to bursting with the sights and experiences of the day. As exciting as the day had been, with so many of her dreams realized, she had discovered that nothing was as fulfilling as her life on the farm—life with Jakob. As his wife, all her needs and dreams were realized. She would never again doubt his honor or his sincerity.
They returned the carriage and walked to their hotel hand in hand. Lydia admired Jakob's tall form, his fair hair, shining in the moonlight. He went out of his way to please her and build their life together. If he hadn't come into her life, she would never have seen the city, ridden in a carriage, or met new people. No other man could make her feel the way Jakob did when he touched her, kissed her.
She had a life she enjoyed, a man she loved, good friends. Soon they'd have a home, and perhaps—d
ear God, please—a child.
It was enough.
The family welcomed her with open arms. Annette shed happy tears. Even Jessie seemed happy to see her, traipsing at Lydia's heels.
Anton took them aside and apologized. "I'm still not sure what's happened," he said with a shrug. "She lied. What scares me is that—" he sat on the sofa's edge and ran his thumbnail along the seam of his denims "—I'm not sure she knows she lied. She's acting like nothing ever happened."
Jakob and Lydia glanced at one another then back to Anton. "What're you saying?" Jakob asked.
"I'm troubled." The circles under his eyes showed how troubled. "Things have never been—comfortable between us. I've never known what she was thinking, but now—she's not as tense, but she says things that don't make much sense. Just be warned she's acting strangely."
"I'm sorry, Anton," Lydia told him.
"Annie said we should take her to a doctor."
Lydia agreed that might be best. She didn't see Emily until they sat down for supper. She swished into the kitchen in a vivid blue two-piece dress, hair and face flawless, the child she carried adding a lovely maternal glow.
The Neubauers quieted, gazes touching uncertainly.
"What did you have for supper in Pittsburgh?" Annette asked, breaking the awkward silence.
"Roast beef," Jakob replied.
"Vegetables in a cream sauce, and little tarts," Lydia supplied, taking up the conversation and easing the others' discomfort. "I think I can make them."
"We missed you sorely, Tochter." Johann spoke his mind, and the others nodded. Daughter. Lydia's heart brimmed with the warmth her new family offered.
Emily diced a cooked carrot on Nikolaus's tray and ignored everyone.
Jakob's hand, near Lydia's knee, caught her attention. She reached down, and he gave her fingers a squeeze. "I plan to get the corner foundations laid before the cold weather," he said to those around the table. "If I have a little help, I may even get the fireplace built."
"Count on me," Anton offered. Franz and Johann nodded.
"We can stitch curtains and bedding this winter," Annette suggested.
Cheryl St.John - [Neubauer Brothers 01] Page 28