A Time for Giving

by Raine Cantrell

  “No. Don’t say that, Jacob. There is so much waiting for you.” She rocked her body with his, longing to say more, afraid she would whisper her love. She knew why the words couldn’t be said. Jacob believed he needed her now, but once he was home for good, he would think clearly. She never wanted him to regret asking her to marry him. She was certain he would find someone to love. Letting him remain free would ensure his chance for happiness.

  “You’re so good to me, Ellie. You listen without judging, and make me feel more a man, for having confessed my weak—”

  “Don’t, Jacob,” she pleaded, pulling back to look up at him. His eyes were closed, but the lines bracketing his mouth had softened and tempted her fingertips to touch.

  As if he had sensed her thought, Jacob brought her hand to his lips. “You are a special Christmas present,” he murmured, pressing kisses to her fingertips, “who goes on giving long after the day is over.” He kissed her palm, drawing her hand around his neck. His lips touched her temple, and he smiled against her hair to feel the tremor of her body. “Shy, little, Ellie, what will tempt you to marry me?”

  He had to tease her to banish the dark mood, angry that time was against him. “Have I told you how pretty you are, or that you have the loveliest neck? Or that I’ve come to crave more of your kisses?”

  “Jacob? This isn’t flirting, is it?”

  “No, little mouse …” Just a desperate man’s gamble.

  Ellie covered his mouth with her hand. “You mustn’t. The children …” She faltered, for Jacob opened his eyes and the desire she saw there left her breathless.

  Dark and low, he whispered, “How like a wife you sound, Ellie. The children are upstairs, conspiring some mischief, I vow, for I was politely shown the door and warned not to enter.” He laced a string of kisses across her cheek and down the arch of her throat, nuzzling the warmth of her skin despite her irritating starched linen collar. “You like that,” he said, hearing the small catch of her breath. “Ellie, do you know what would happen now if we were married?”

  “No. And we’re not. You mustn’t say improper things.” It was a halfhearted protest at best. Ellie grew dizzy from the heavy scent of pine from the tree that blended with the clean, woodsy, masculine scent of Jacob. She had the strange thought that this was the cause of her blood appearing to heat. The room was certainly too warm, Jacob’s lips against her skin too hot, but rather than pull away, she angled her head to one side.

  “Now, who’s flirting, Ellie?” But he gave her no chance to answer. He brought his lips to hers, whispering of need. She loved his children and brother, enjoyed his company and kisses, but did not love him. The thought of seducing her entered his mind and left as quickly. He couldn’t do that to Ellie. But he could speak honestly about his feelings. “I need you to let me forget for a little while what is waiting for me. Let me show you how good it could be with us.”

  Need, but not love. Ellie understood. She needed, too. No one could be hurt by these stolen moments. The tender way his mouth cherished hers was a present that would last longer than any Christmas memory. But tenderness gave way as passion awakened, and its power was more than she could fight.

  Jacob drew her small cry inside himself. He made no concession to her innocence, kissing her with a need as strong as the storm that was beginning outside. The way she held him tighter, the softening fit of her body to his, granted a sensual pleasure he had not imagined, and gave him the forgetfulness he desperately needed.

  By the time he lifted his head, Ellie was overwhelmed with the powerful sensations he created deep inside her. She was breathing as heavily as he, and it was an effort to lower her arms.

  “Ellie, you can’t ignore the passion between us. Just as you can’t keep running from talking to me about marriage. Why won’t you accept my proposal? You love my children, I’ve seen that for myself, read it in their letters. They care a great deal for you, as does Thomas.”

  She didn’t attempt to push him away. Jacob wasn’t going to move, and it was time just as he said. “I know you think these are good reasons, but they are not enough.”

  “What then? I don’t have time to court you properly. I can’t go back to the war and wonder what will happen to my children if I die.”

  “Don’t say that, Jacob! You won’t die!”

  “Men die everyday. I want the security of a home and someone to love and raise my children, Ellie. You can give that to me, to them.” When she lowered her head without answering him, he pressed his demand. “You know I’ll be a faithful husband. If I survive the coming months and return home, I’ll do all I can to make you happy. With our adjoining farms—”

  Ellie heard enough. With a wrenching cry she shoved him and ran from the room.

  Bewildered, Jacob stood there, wondering what he had said to make her cry.

  Ellie knew time was against her, in all ways. She could not indulge herself by hiding in her room, the farm chores would not wait. She called up to the children to remind them of the time, dressing quickly, then taking the clean milk buckets to the barn. It was steamy warm, and she shed her cloak before lighting the lanterns against the early dark.

  Her hands shook as she measured out grain for the cows. Jacob had started a flame inside her, and she couldn’t put it out. She wanted him. Her hope for love was that of a foolish young girl. Time was long past to stop dreaming. She loved Thomas and the children. Jacob’s mentioning the possibility of his dying brought home a shattering truth. Without marriage, the children could be taken from her. It was only Jacob’s agreement that allowed her offer to be accepted by his family. He didn’t want them separated.

  Why then, couldn’t she give him the answer he wanted?

  She heard the barn door open, and with it, came Jacob’s voice calling her. Ellie stepped around the feed bin so he could see her.

  “I told the children to stay in, Ellie. The snow is coming down harder, and they need to replenish the wood boxes.” He could still see a glint of tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry for whatever I said that upset you.”

  “It wasn’t you, Jacob.” She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Is there any sign of Thomas?”

  “No. Please stop worrying about him. Thomas has sense enough to take shelter if the storm continues.” Jacob rolled up his sleeves, then lifted the two buckets near the door. “You rushed out without the wash water.” He came toward her, stopping before he was close enough to touch her and set one bucket down. “I won’t touch you again, Ellie, if that’s what has you watching me so intently.”

  “I didn’t—I mean—” She silently pleaded with him to understand what she couldn’t say. But Jacob stood, patiently waiting. “I need time, Jacob.”

  “I don’t have time to give you.” He turned then, and pulled out the milking stools. “I see you’ve fed them, I’ll wash and you can begin milking.” Jacob set to work, hating the tension between them. Old Betsy turned her head, large brown eyes on him in reproach that he had forgotten to scratch her ears before he began milking her. To make her displeasure known, she swished her tail in Jacob’s face. Jacob kept milking. Her tail hit him again, this time with a forceful impatience.

  “Jacob, pet her nicely or she’ll kick over the pail,” Ellie warned as she went to set her stool down.

  “One ornery female is all a man can stand,” he muttered.

  “I’m not being ornery, Jacob. I’m being careful. For both of us,” she amended, knowing she had to voice her reservations. “Your losses and the war have given you a need for security as you said. I think marrying me for those reasons is a mistake.”

  “There are others, as you well know.” The cats purred, entwining themselves around his legs and the stool. Betsy moved away as far as the stanchion allowed. Jacob grabbed her tail to urge her back in place. Rabbits scampered above, making the chickens squawk, and bits of hay drifted down from between the wood planks.

  “Give Betsy what she wants, Jacob, and she’ll behave for you.�
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  Jacob ignored her. Betsy kicked the pail and nearly upset it as if to add her own warning to Ellie’s. Two of the larger cats, anxious for the milk, rose with their paws on the pail’s edge, and Jacob barely snatched it up in time to save it. With a bellow, he came up off the milking stool, holding the pail high.

  Ellie’s laughter erupted behind him. He spun around, his gaze warning her, but it only stopped her for a moment. “Poor Jacob. You look like an outraged goodwife who was pinched at the market. Or are you protecting your worldly possessions?”

  Betsy’s moo and the chorus from the other cows was the last straw. Jacob fought the smile that twitched his lips. His mock growl only made Ellie laugh harder.

  “Laugh at me, will you?” He set down the pail and went after Ellie. Her shriek of alarm satisfied him to no end. He let her dodge him, and think she escaped, but he herded her toward the barn doors. The animals; restless stampings came with neighs and squawks, moos and meows, Ellie’s fake screams of fright and Jacob’s dire threats.

  Ellie escaped outside. Thick flakes of snow fell in a soft, blinding swirl. Her shoes slid, and she tried to hold her balance. Jacob scooped her up into his arms before she took a headlong spill.

  “Thought you could get away, did you?”

  “No, Jacob. Not I.” She wrapped her arms around him as he turned slowly, then faster, barely keeping his own balance. “You are utterly mad!”

  “Likely! And it’s all your fault, Miss Ellie Wintifred”. He drank her laughter like a man thirsting for drink, sharing his own with her.

  “Now that I have you, I’ll need to think of a fitting punishment. But are you cold, my dear?” he asked with a leer.

  “Dreadfully so, you villain.”

  Jacob began to walk back into the barn, cradling her against him. “I know how to warm you, Ellie,” he whispered, lowering his lips to hers. A snowball splattered against his back, soaking his shirt. “We’re under attack. Make use of your position, wench, and tell me where the enemy is.”

  Ellie peered over his shoulder just as Jacob reached the barn doors. “It’s Caleb by the woodpile.”

  Two more hits found their mark. “The boy wants war.” Jacob set her down and bent quickly to mold the snow into ammunition. Krista joined her brother and Ellie set about supplying Jacob, for his aim was better. Ellie had to leave Jacob to defend himself as the cows bellowed in pain from too full udders.

  The snowball fight ended with a great deal of teasing and laughter over who would be declared the winner, as they trooped back inside the house. Ellie shooed the children off to get changed, admonishing Jacob to do the same. His wet shirt clung to him, revealing the dark hair that made her fingers curl with the urge to touch his chest.

  Ellie rushed to her room, changing into a soft blue wool gown, but leaving off her corset. She felt bold and daring for doing so, but it was the only one she had, and it was damp. She was flushed with excitement when she returned to the kitchen, stopping still when she saw Jacob at the stove.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Ellie. I can stir the stew you made without ruining it.”

  She watched him absently brush back a lock of his hair that had fallen over his forehead. She felt a new, strange, heated awareness of him. When Jacob turned to look at her and his eyes darkened, she lifted her hand to her hair. Still damp, she had merely pinned the sides back and left it loose.

  “I know it’s not proper, but I … I—”

  “It’s lovely, Ellie. I like it down and no, I suppose it’s not proper for anyone but your husband to see your hair loose.” He heard the thickening passion in his own voice and turned back to stirring the pot of stew. He was not going to seduce Ellie into agreeing to marry him. And he was well aware how easy it would be to do. Jacob knew time was slipping away from him, but he realized he wanted Ellie to come to him because she wanted him, wanted to carry his name and his children. His children? The thought settled comfortably in his mind, as if it had always been there. With a studying look, he turned to Ellie. It was far too easy to envision her slender waist rounded with his child.

  His gaze darkened and narrowed. Ellie grew alarmed. “What are you thinking about?” she asked softly, afraid some memory of the war had taken hold of him.

  “I’m multiplying, Ellie. I’ve just learned that one plus one can equal three or four or perhaps more.”

  The amusement in his voice that was slowly reflected in his eyes bewildered her. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Not to you. I know that. But it makes perfect sense to me. You see, Ellie, I’ve just discovered the answer to a question I didn’t even know I had.”

  With a brisk move, Ellie waved her hand in dismissal. “Did Caleb hit you in the head? Go into the parlor, Jacob, and I’ll call you when supper is ready.” She took her apron down from its hook and tied it around her waist.

  Jacob came up behind her and planted a kiss on her shoulder. “You, my dear, have been ordering children about for too long. A man, Ellie,” he informed her as he turned her within his arms, “would like a woman to coax him, to ask prettily, to take him most seriously … ah, Ellie,” he murmured, planting a kiss on her upturned nose. “I’ll help set the table. I’ve too little time to spend with you as it is.”

  The sound of sleigh bells announced Thomas’s return just as they sat down to eat. Jacob went out to tend to the horses and sent Thomas inside to change. Seated around the table later, Jacob shared a smile with Ellie as Thomas embroidered his twenty-mile trip home through the storm. Never had such danger lurked beyond every turn on the narrow mountain road. Pride gleamed in the boy’s eyes when Jacob brought him a glass of blackberry brandy and proposed a toast for his surviving a harrowing journey home.

  Krista and Caleb hurried everyone through supper, anxious to decorate the tree. Ellie wrapped up the crumbs and end of the bread, reminding Krista to put it out for the birds in the morning.

  While Ellie heated apple cider with a few cinnamon sticks, Jacob sliced up a fruitcake. Ellie added a plate of gingerbread, then set them on the big silver tray that Jacob carried into the parlor.

  Ellie had never shared the decorating with anyone. It was her pride and pleasure ever since she had been old enough to climb a footstool and reach the top branches to decorate the tree. Of course, she reminded herself, she had never had so large a tree. Caleb filled the metal corn popper with dried corn, and promised to help sew the strings of popcorn they needed. Krista wanted to help him, but Thomas opened the trunk.

  “How pretty, Ellie,” the child said, staring at the wooden tray filled with star-shaped tin candle holders. She took one and brought it to Ellie. “You should put the first one on top. Papa can lift you up.”

  Ellie fitted one of the small bayberry candles she had made in the fall into the holder, then shyly turned to Jacob.

  “Papa wait,” Caleb called out. “Have you forgotten? We always light a candle to remember someone special.” He got up and went to Ellie. “Would it be all right with you? I want to light a candle for my mother.”

  “Caleb—”

  “No, it’s all right, Jacob,” Ellie said, handing over the first candle to him. “Light it, Caleb.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  Ellie blinked back the tears in her eyes. “I think it is a beautiful tradition, Caleb. I’m happy that you want to share it with me.”

  Caleb glanced at his father, and at Jacob’s nod, took the candle to the fireplace to light it. He held the candle steady as Jacob lifted him high where he stretched to fasten the holder to the highest branch. “Now you, Ellie.”

  She lit her candle in rememberance of her parents, wishing they could have shared the joy that Jacob and his children had brought to her. Her gaze met Jacob’s and she was sure he lit his for his brothers and Lucy, but Ellie no longer felt any envy.

  She watched Thomas and Krista, saw their lips move, and knew Jacob understood what she was feeling when he whispered, “It’s good to keep the happy
memories of the past, Ellie, but we can make our own new ones.”

  Aunt Celia had a candle and prayer, for she had risked her life to save them from the fire and her heart gave out. Ellie basked in the glow of their warmth and memories shared. She watched Jacob’s hands, admiring their strength and the gentle way he handled the small wooden dolls as he looped their frayed ribbons over the higher branches. Her body reacted to the heated memory of his touching her, and her gaze met his. Ellie couldn’t look away, not even when Jacob glanced at his hands, then back at her eyes as if he, too, remembered holding her.

  She no longer heard the sounds of Caleb’s furious shaking of the pan as corn popped. Krista’s excited voice exclaiming over the small wooden dolls Ellie’s grandfather had made for her faded as did Thomas’s off-key singing. The wild beating of her heart filled her ears, and she was overcome with a breathless feeling. Surely, she was dreaming. There was desire in Jacob’s eyes. Desire for her.

  Jacob reached over to cover her hand with his. He was lost in the bright sparkle of her eyes. She gazed at him like a woman in love, a woman who saw all she ever wanted in one man. Now he knew what Ellie wanted, what had kept her from accepting his proposal. Ellie loved him. It was there all the time, and he was too blind to realize it. But it was the stunning force of his own powerful feeling to have and claim that love as his own that left him shaken. He wanted her and her love for his own.

  They were so lost in each other, that they didn’t see Thomas exchange a look with the children, then motion them to leave the room.

  Krista didn’t understand, and she objected loudly. “We can’t leave. We haven’t put the gingerbread men on the tree.”

  “Krista!” Thomas yelled.