For Her Honor: The Gentrys of Paradise

by Holly Bush

She laid her pen down on the desk and stared at him. “You’ve opened a bank account for me?’ she whispered.

  “There is one thousand dollars available to you at any time, although when you’re shopping in Winchester, just add what you spend to the Paradise account as we have one set up at nearly every merchant.”

  “One thousand dollars?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your time in Philadelphia, too. You’ll have to tell me where I’ll be sending the tuition, and if you can find a bank that is reputable and close to the school, I’ll set up an account there for you. You’ll have to have funds to live on.”

  “You’re going to pay my tuition?”

  “Yes. Of course, I am. You’re a Gentry now and your expenses will be paid for with Gentry money. And do not, I repeat, do not purchase one blouse and one skirt for yourself. You are in need of a new wardrobe. Get everything necessary and don’t forget to get a coat for next winter while you’re there. Shall I write Mother and tell her to make sure you have purchased everything you need?”

  She shook her head. “I’m to have a new wardrobe?”

  Adam stood and walked to her. “I don’t want to be unkind, but I’ve seen the clothing you’ve hung in our rooms. There are two skirts, one brown, one gray, a few blouses, none of which do not have ink stains, a dress I’ve seen you in at church, and the dress you were married in. That’s all.”

  Emmaline groaned. “Please don’t repeat what you’ve said to my mother. She was furious with me because I would never purchase anything at Bessie’s. My sisters would be so excited they couldn’t sleep before they ordered new things, and I managed to make myself scarce to avoid it. She didn’t say, but Mother was embarrassed at what I brought here in my suitcase. She wanted to burn it all.”

  Adam took her hand and drew her to her feet. They were standing just a few inches apart and he put his hands on her waist, enjoying the feel of it and remembering her in their bed the day before.

  “You must have new skirts and blouses, dresses, and jackets.” He stepped closer and laid a hand on her cheek. “And don’t forget the silk stockings, embroidered chemises, lace drawers, and filmy night things,” he whispered.

  She looked up at him from under her lashes, her lips parting. “I was thinking,” she said softly.

  He touched his lips to her eyes and her cheeks. “What were you thinking?”

  She laid her hands on his chest and let them drift up until she touched bare skin at his open collar, wrapping her fingers around his neck and touching his ears with her thumbs. He groaned.

  “I’ve been thinking that, well, I would like to continue from where we began yesterday”—she touched his cheek, dragging her hand over the dark beard that was already beginning to show—“but . . .”

  He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm and tried to contain his arousal. “But . . . what?”

  She looked in his eyes then, worried, and maybe nervous, and he thought he might move a mountain, as trite as the saying was, to erase her troubles. It felt as though he was meant to be with her and she with him. It felt right.

  “I don’t want to be expecting a child right this moment. I want to go to Clair House. I want to focus on my writing. If my first pregnancy was anything to go by, I don’t want to be sick for months at a time right now, although, when the time was right, I think I’d make whatever sacrifice was necessary. There are ways to prevent babies, aren’t there?”

  He nodded and moved to whisper in her ear and ran his tongue around the shell of it, eliciting a deep breath from her. “There are ways.”

  “Nettie said to ask you about sheaths and—”

  “Your sister is a fountain of knowledge, is she not,” he interrupted and brought his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her forward until her lips touched his. She kissed him back, tracing his mouth with her tongue. Her lips were soft and warm and unschooled. But yet, she was passionate, he knew. “Let me worry about this. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re happy and comfortable. And satisfied.”

  “Satisfied,” she whispered and opened her eyes.

  He touched his mouth to hers. “Are you ready to retire, Mrs. Gentry?”

  “Should we bank the fire and lower the lamps?” she asked as she brushed her lips back and forth across his.

  He stepped away from her, lacing his fingers with hers as he did, pulling her gently to follow him. “Let Jenny get them.”

  Emmaline went directly to the bathing chamber while he rummaged through the valise in the back of his dressing room. He found the sheaths that he’d quit using with Josephine, knowing their child was already conceived, and put them on his nightstand. He pulled off his clothes and scrambled under the sheets, prepared to wait for his bride. God, he was nervous.

  The door opened, and she walked to the bed, staring at him, wearing her knee-length nightgown that had haunted his dreams. She stopped, reached down, and pulled the nightgown over her head, leaving her naked, one knee on the edge of the mattress. He couldn’t breathe. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was certain she heard him moan.

  “I imagine you wanted to see me as much as I want to see you.”

  He growled and threw back the sheet, exposing himself, staring at her, letting his eyes wander to her breasts, full, dark tips hardening under his watch. Her belly was flat, leading to flared, rounded hips framing a dark patch of hair. He looked up and found her staring at his cock. He was fully, and even painfully aroused.

  “Come here, wife.”

  Her lashes lowered as she knelt on the bed and came to him on her hands and knees. He could barely restrain himself from reaching out to touch her breasts as they swayed back and forth with her movement. She crawled over him, stretching out like a cat, her toes touching his shins, her breasts flattened on his chest, as she leaned her forearms on his shoulders, her hair dropping around his face, smelling like soap and like Emmaline. She pulled forward and his cock popped up between her thighs.

  “Umm,” she said and smiled.

  “Umm is right.” He brought his hands to her ass, rocking her hips against him.

  She dropped her eyes, staring at her hands, and whispered, “Mother always said I was too forward about . . . earthy matters. I haven’t been demure, have I?”

  He captured her face in his hands and gently tilted it up until she was looking at him. “You have been perfect. We’re man and wife. We’re in this bed to pleasure each other and to someday make our children. You’re safe here with me to do and act as naturally as you want.” He kissed her openmouthed and spoke again just a hairsbreadth from her lips. “The openness of your desires heightens mine. I want you, Emmaline Gentry. I want to be inside you.”

  She sat back on her heels while he opened the wrapping on the sheath with shaking fingers. He pulled it down around his cock as she watched and licked her lips. She stretched out on him again, rubbing her breasts against him and kissing him, tangling her tongue with his.

  They were both breathing heavily when he flipped her onto her back and reached down with his hand to pull her leg up and around his hip. He touched her intimately and licked her breasts, sucking hard on her nipples until her back arched and he could feel her inner muscles clenching on his fingers.

  He put his cock at her entrance, wiggling inside just a bit, and looked her in the eyes. “I don’t know if you’ll have any pain, Emmaline,” he said and kissed her. “I surely hope not.” His shoulders shook with desire and need, his muscles bunched under her fingers as she trailed her hand up his forearms, her eyes half-mast and her lips parted. She thrust her hips up in one smooth, swift motion, bringing him inside her as far as he could go. They both moaned, and his hips began to pump against her. She tossed her head from side to side, stopped to stare at him, and then tilted her head back, exposing the long column of her throat as her eyes fluttered and she went limp under him.

  CHAPTER 10

  Emmaline was still awake when she heard the hallway clock chime two in
the morning. Adam had fallen asleep nearly as soon as he’d rolled off of her. She was propped up on her elbow, chin on her hand, watching him sleep in the moonlight that poured in the window across from their bed. He was beautiful and masculine even in sleep, and it made her aware of herself with tremors between her legs. She could hardly believe that he’d touched her with his hands and mouth and put himself in her. She would have never thought of him as desirable or sexual. Honorable, yes. Handsome, yes. But not this overwhelming need to touch him everywhere. She would miss this. She would miss him, she realized again.

  His arm was laid on the pillow above his head and his breathing was deep and even. She ran her finger lightly up through the hair on his chest, to his shoulder, through the soft hair under his arm, and over the underside of his bicep, hard and wide. Like other parts of him, Emmaline said to herself and smiled secretively. She wasn’t certain she wanted to let him out of her sight. Her fingers reversed course, a feather touch, following his chest hair as it tapered away under the sheet he’d pulled up to his waist. She glanced further and saw that he was beginning to be aroused. She licked her lips and looked up at him. His eyes were still closed.

  “When you stare at it . . .” he said and took a deep breath as she reached her hand under the sheet.

  “Your eyes are closed. How do you know I was staring at it?”

  “Because I know.” Adam opened his eyes and rolled onto his side, facing her. He ran his knuckle down her cheek and pushed his fingers through her hair. “Are you sore from our love making? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “No. You didn’t hurt me, although you fell asleep before I could ask you anything and Nettie said that John is the most pliable and forthcoming right after . . .”

  Adam laughed, a low, rich sound that reverberated through her and made her smile. “I’ve known John Winders since we were both boys and I don’t imagine he’d like me knowing that bit of his marriage.”

  “You must never let on!”

  He kissed her nose. “No. I suppose I shouldn’t. What would I say anyway?”

  Emmaline smiled and giggled and dropped her voice an octave. “‘I hear you’re an easy mark after your wife has had her way with you!’”

  He laughed again and looked at her. “Is there something you wanted to ask me about when I so unceremoniously fell asleep? I’m an old man and need my rest. Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

  “I wasn’t a virgin, you know.”

  “I know,” he whispered in her ear. “We both knew when we married that neither of us were virgins.”

  “But in some ways, I was. I wanted to thank you for being so thoughtful and making me feel so wanted.” She felt the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

  He kissed her softly. “You are very enticing. There was no effort to make you feel wanted. I wanted you. I’m thinking that your first experience wasn’t to your liking and I’m hoping I’ve erased every unpleasant memory, if I’m right.”

  “You are right. I didn’t not even realize it was happening at first.” She felt her lip tremble. “I was such a fool, thinking about it now, especially now, knowing how wonderful it could be.”

  “Don’t ever call or think of yourself as a fool. You were innocent, and he took advantage, surely one of the worst things a person can do to another.” He rolled onto his back staring at the ceiling. He turned his head to look at her then. “You thought it wonderful?”

  She nodded. “Beyond my wildest expectation.”

  His mouth hitched to one side and then flattened into a line. “I would like to find him and send him to perdition.”

  “You sound very fierce.”

  “About him? Yes,” he said and leaned over her until she lay flat on her back. “I think I’ll be fierce about anything or anyone that bothers you until we are both resting in our graves.”

  She tangled her feet with his, and he lifted her breast in his hand in a casual possession that left her breathless. He pulled a sheath over himself and moved over her, spreading her legs as he did, entering her in one motion. She was wet already and she could hear the slow, rhythmic in and out of their lovemaking. His face was beside hers, buried in her hair, and she could feel his damp breathing against her ear, hitching pants that increased in tempo with every thrust. She pulled her knees up, feet flat, on either side of his legs, laid her hands on his flanks, and closed her eyes. She and he were, at that moment, the very definition of intimate, locked together, both feeling the gradual build of intense arousal, naked against each other, and he in her very body. She arched against him and her knees and hands fell to her side, limp and sweat-soaked.

  “Jesus, Emmaline,” he whispered as he pumped in her hard and fast. Growling and shaking and twitching when she touched his back as he released and dropped his weight on her. Her eyes closed shortly after.

  Emmaline awoke the next morning and found herself alone in their bed, although she could hear her husband running water into the bathing tub and humming a tune. Last night, her wedding night in earnest, was a revelation. There could be passion and awareness and humor and anticipation between husbands and wives, culminating in an act so divine, she couldn’t find words to describe it satisfactorily. No wonder Nettie couldn’t keep her hands off of her husband. She did this with John! But Nettie was in love. She surely was not. She liked Adam. She would admit he’d saved her from an uncomfortable future and had been kind and thoughtful more than she could have anticipated, but still she wouldn’t describe him as being in love and she certainly was not in love with him. How ridiculous!

  “GIRLS! OVER HERE! OLIVIA!” Emmaline heard as she stood on the top step of the stopped train at the Washington station, waiting for her sister and Olivia to step down. She followed them through the throngs of people crowding the platform until they got to Mrs. Gentry.

  Eleanor was hugging Olivia then, swaying back and forth and kissing her cheeks and hair. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” she said as Olivia burst into tears.

  “I’m sorry”—Olivia kissed her mother’s cheek—“I cry all the time it seems!”

  Eleanor kissed Emmaline and then insisted on kissing Nettie, too. “Come, girls. We will make some introductions in the carriage.”

  “This lovely lady is Fiona McKellar,” Eleanor said when they were on their way at a brisk clip. “Fiona, you’ve met Olivia. This is my daughter-in-law, Emmaline, Adam’s wife, and this is her sister Nettie.”

  “It is good to see you again, ma’am,” Olivia said. “Mother seems so happy in her letters and I think it must be because of your hospitality.”

  “How sweet of you!” Fiona said. “Eleanor and I have been having a grand time. We’re enjoying ourselves immensely, and your mother is quite sought out when we attend garden parties and soirees.”

  “I told my brothers that she was a very popular lady at social events,” Olivia said, smiling and leaning forward to pat her mother’s knee.

  “Ah, here we are, ladies,” Miss McKellar said as the carriage pulled onto a graveled drive in front of a huge brick home, three stories tall. The front door opened, and a middle-aged woman dressed in pale gray and a starched white apron stepped out. “That is Mrs. Hodgkins, my housekeeper. She is a dear and will make sure you are comfortable.”

  Emmaline was shown to a spacious bedroom with a private bathing chamber. A young woman was hanging her clothes and told her to ring the bell near the bed if she needed assistance. The room was beautifully and expensively decorated, she knew, even if she’d never paid much attention to such things. She washed her face and hands, tucked her hair back into the bun at the base of her neck, and stared at herself in the mirror hanging there. It was probably time to start acting a bit more like an adult woman and presenting herself as one. She needn’t be excessive with styling her hair and what clothes she wore but she knew that her flippant disorder, meant as much to confound her mother as it was to please herself, should be put to rest. She was about to be a published author, heading to an exclusive writing school soon, and Adam
Gentry’s wife. Adam Gentry’s wife in every way.

  She smiled to herself then, thinking about the night before she boarded the train when Adam had climbed into the bathing tub with her, scrubbing her and soaping her skin until she was writhing in his hands and the tiled floor of the bathing room was wet from the water sloshing out of the tub. That very morning he’d helped her into the carriage, stopped for Olivia and Nettie, and taken them all to the train station. He managed their luggage, kissed his sister on the cheek, and handed each of them up the stairs to the conductor. But before she’d taken the step, he’d wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her on the mouth. Right there at the station, in front of everyone. Well.

  Emmaline left her room before she could think any more on that and went down the long stairway of the house, hearing feminine laughter coming from an open doorway down a wide, carpeted hallway. She found her sister, Miss McKellar, and her mother-in-law seated together in a cozy grouping of couches and chairs, all covered in a wide green and white stripe fabric, in front of three long windows draped in a green, white, and pink floral design.

  “Come sit with us and enjoy a lemonade, Emmaline,” Eleanor said. “Olivia is napping.”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said and seated herself where Eleanor was patting the seat on the sofa beside her.

  “You must tell us everything now. I want to hear every single thing about your writing and, of course, about Adam, too,” Eleanor said and laughed, beaming at Emmaline.

  “Your mother-in-law couldn’t contain herself, dear, after reading the letters from your husband.” Miss McKellar handed Emmaline a frosted glass of lemonade. “Writers are such interesting people.”

  Emmaline looked from one woman to the other, feeling odd about their enthusiasm, although odd wasn’t the right word. Certainly, it was fine for her to feel excitement and victorious about being accepted for Beadle’s, but she didn’t anticipate others feeling the same or even complimenting her. Eleanor turned in her seat to face her and reached for her hand. But this was Eleanor Gentry, who she knew didn’t have a single devious bone in her body.