Then, just as quickly as he’d started the kiss, he ended it, pulling away from her and putting a firm distance between them.
She straightened and tried to restore strength to her weak knees, surprised at the wild beating of her heart.
What had it all meant? The tender passion of his kiss? And her unlikely reaction? Was it possible they would eventually develop feelings for each other?
His gaze caught hers, and the apology there reminded her of their agreement.
Inwardly she chided herself, hoping she wasn’t blushing in embarrassment. She might have allowed herself to pretend they were embarking on a real marriage. But she’d do well to never forget they had agreed upon a partnership. And nothing more.
“You must fulfill your wifely duties.” Mother’s voice was as unyielding as each stroke of the brush in Priscilla’s long hair.
She wanted to sneak under the bed. At least the cool darkness of the upstairs bedroom hid the flames on her face.
“I conceived on my wedding night.” Mary Ann folded back the covers on the double bed Priscilla had shared with her younger sister since they were girls.
Mother glared at Mary Ann before smoothing Priscilla’s hair and sliding the brush through it again. “As unpleasant as the duty may be, you must never withhold yourself from your husband.”
Priscilla ducked her head. She supposed it was every mother’s responsibility to prepare her daughter for the marriage bed, but Mother needn’t worry. Hadn’t Eli said they wouldn’t consummate?
She shivered and pulled the robe tighter around the frilly nightgown Mary Ann had insisted she don. What if he changed his mind?
The taste of his kiss still lingered on her lips. It had been anything but unpleasant. If he planned on giving her more kisses like that, why would she want to withhold herself?
Of course, he hadn’t looked at her since Reverend Lull had pronounced them man and wife. He’d found plenty of others to talk to and was, at that moment, locked away in the den with Father and Reverend Lull.
“Don’t worry.” Mary Ann rubbed her hand across the swell of her stomach. “Once you’re with child, you’ll get a break.”
“I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” she murmured, wishing she could just tell them to cease speaking about the matter altogether. At least Mary Ann would never have to know the truth. She’d be far away from the questions once it was time for her to conceive and didn’t.
Mother stepped in front of her and narrowed her eyes in examination. She drew a strand of Priscilla’s hair around to the front and adjusted the wave so it hung down and almost touched her waist. “There. You must bear your wifely burden with both beauty and dignity.”
Mary Ann leaned in and placed a kiss on Priscilla’s cheek. “You look as beautiful as always.”
Priscilla reached for Mary Ann’s hand before she could back away and clasped it between hers. “I couldn’t have gotten ready this past week without your help. Thank you.”
Mary Ann just gave her a sad, tired smile.
Priscilla reached for Mother’s hand and put it to her lips. “And thank you, Mother. For everything.”
Mother’s eyes glistened, and she quickly shook her head. “We’ll have plenty of time for good-byes in the morning.”
After they left the room, Priscilla sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the closed door. Her stomach clinched. What would Eli say when he opened the door and saw her waiting for him?
Should she climb under the covers and wait there? Or would that be even more presumptuous?
The glass oil lamp on the chest of drawers cast a pale light over the bedroom, over the flower print on the washbasin and the lace on the curtains.
Her gaze touched each familiar item, and her heart lingered wistfully, saying good-bye to everything she’d always known. And to her childhood.
This would be her last night. She’d overheard Eli telling others they would need to leave on the morrow to retrieve John and Richard, among other stops, before they began their journey by sleigh to Pittsburgh.
And even though Mother had once again protested the hurried departure, Priscilla had no doubt Mother and Mary Ann would be up most of the night finishing the last stitches on the serviceable dresses they’d started making that week.
Priscilla fingered the squares in the quilt. And they’d likely pack the small trunk Mary Ann had agreed to give her.
She’d wanted to help with the preparations, but they’d insisted she spend her wedding night with her husband. And now, faced with the possibility of being in the same room as Eli all night long, she was tempted to slip back into her dress.
The squeak of the steps and the distinct scuff of his boots sent her heart into a downward tumble. She smoothed her hair and folded her hands in her lap.
The door swung open.
She straightened and tried to keep breathing.
He stepped inside and kicked the door closed with his heel. He glanced around the room, taking in everything but her.
His hair was in tousled disarray, and the scruff on his face was dark in the shadows of the room. He leaned against the door and gripped the handle. He focused on his boots and said nothing.
Her stomach pinched tighter. Should she stand up and go to him? Or should she let him make the first move?
“Your mother practically forced me up the stairs. I guess, whether we want to or not, we’ll have to stay in the same room.”
She nodded.
Only then did he glance at her. His eyes widened. “Almighty Lord, help me,” he breathed, fumbling at the door handle.
She rose from the bed. “Don’t leave,” she whispered.
His gaze swept over her. “Sweet, sweet Lord.”
“If anyone needs to leave, let me.”
“You’re . . . you’re absolutely . . .” The brightness of his eyes lingered over the strand of hair tumbling across her chest.
She glanced down. Her robe had fallen open, and all that shielded her body from his probing eyes was the thin linen and lace of her nightgown. Heat swirled through her, and she fumbled to pull her robe closed.
When his eyes lifted to meet hers, something in their depths sent a different kind of heat pulsing through her, the same sweet tingle in her stomach that she’d had when he’d kissed her.
“You’d better get in bed.” His whisper was gruff, and he wrenched his eyes away.
With a pounding heart, she groped for the covers and somehow managed to slide under them. The coolness soothed her flushed skin.
He stepped over to the lamp, cupped his hand over the globe, and puffed out the flame.
The blackness of the night surrounded her and sent more strange tingles through her middle until she trembled.
A thunk on the hardwood floor—one discarded boot—was followed by another thunk—the other boot.
She chewed at her bottom lip. Would he undress here? Now?
At the soft slither of linen against skin, she scrunched her eyes closed. He was indeed taking off his clothes.
Of course, in the complete darkness of the room she couldn’t see even his outline, but that didn’t stop her from imagining the slow shed of his shirt.
His footsteps padded across the room to the opposite side of the bed.
She pulled the covers up to her neck and held her breath. She waited for the sag of the mattress.
For a long moment, his heavy breathing hovered in the air above her. Then he gave a low groan, backed away, and flopped to the floor.
Her heart picked up its pace, and she sat forward, straining through the darkness to see what he was doing.
From his hefting and the squeak of the floorboards, she had the distinct impression he was making his bed on the floor.
Slowly her breathing resumed, and her heart pattered back to normal. He would keep his bargain after all?
She stared unseeingly at the dark ceiling.
Finally he stopped squirming and silence settled over the room.
She didn’t dare move. Was
he peering upward at nothing too?
“Priscilla?”
His whisper made her jump. “Hmm?”
“Is there an extra blanket?”
“Certainly.” She tugged on the quilt until it slid off the bed toward him.
He wriggled for a few moments, situating the blanket around his body.
She held herself rigid until he was quiet again.
Surely he wouldn’t be comfortable on the floor all night. It would be much too drafty and hard. But she wouldn’t dream of inviting him to share the same bed. . . . A proper lady would never do such a thing.
“I’m sorry about the floor,” she whispered. “I hope you’ll be able to fall asleep.”
“Oh, I won’t be able to sleep, and it won’t be because of the floor.”
Heat splashed over her, sending a fresh flush over her skin. Her mind scrambled to find an appropriate answer, but she could think of nothing except the softness of his hands.
“Good night, Priscilla,” he whispered.
Would it be a good night? How could she sleep even a minute, knowing a man—her husband—was only a breath away?
For that matter, how would she ever sleep again?
Chapter
7
March 1
Time to go,” Eli called again. He tugged on the traces already attached to the sleigh. They were as tight and ready to go as he was.
Priscilla dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes and reached to hug yet another person.
He didn’t doubt that half the town had assembled outside the White home to say good-bye to her. Obviously, she felt an obligation to give each and every last person a hug.
At least Dr. Baldwin had donated his old sleigh for the first leg of the journey. And the fresh dusting of snow overnight would aid their speed to Rushville to say good-bye to his family before they retrieved John and Richard, who were staying in Ithaca with supporters while he finished his business.
“What about Priscilla’s books?” Mrs. White draped another blanket across the seat of the sleigh. “She’ll need her books for her teaching once you arrive.”
Eli shook his head and reined in his irritation. “Whatever she needs we’ll have to buy when we get there.” He’d already explained to Mrs. White a dozen times that when they reached Fort Walla Walla in Oregon, they’d be able to take a canoe down the Columbia River to the British trading post of Fort Vancouver. There they’d be able to buy all the supplies they would need to start the mission.
“Miss White, we need to go. We should have left an hour ago.” Would he need to physically pry her away from her family?
She lifted an eyebrow.
One of the younger girls standing near Priscilla chortled. “She’s no longer Miss White. She’s your wife, Mrs. Ernest.”
Priscilla’s brow inched higher.
How could he forget? Especially after spending an entire sleepless night in the same bedroom with her, listening to her soft sighs and her shifting between the sheets. If that wasn’t torture, he didn’t know what was. No matter what he’d tried to think about, he hadn’t been able to wipe away the image of her standing in her nightgown, the flush in her cheeks, the swirls of golden hair, and the graceful curves of her body.
From the dark circles under her eyes, he figured she hadn’t gotten much sleep either.
“Mrs. Ernest.” The words slipped off his tongue, and he made a slow perusal of her new traveling dress, simpler than what she’d worn previously but still fancier than she’d need in the West.
“My dearest wife.” He crooked his finger at her. “If you don’t make your way to the sleigh, you’ll force me to pick you up and carry you here.”
“There’s no need for such impatience, Dr. Ernest. After all, who knows when I’ll see all my beloved friends and family again.” She lifted her chin. “Certainly you cannot begrudge me a few last moments with them.”
With defiance in her eyes, she turned and embraced the young pregnant woman standing in front of her. “You and Reverend Lull will come west eventually and join us, won’t you, Mary Ann?”
He started toward her.
Mary Ann stopped her reply midsentence and stared at him.
Priscilla glanced over her shoulder and her eyes rounded. Before she could move, he swooped her off her feet into his arms.
“What do you think you’re doing—?”
He juggled her weight and hefted her against his chest. “Just speeding things up.”
She sucked in a breath and wound her arms around his neck. The graceful curves of her body were every bit as soft and delicate as they looked, and he dragged in his own breath.
She peeked at the crowd. Her lashes fell and a rosy blush graced her cheeks. “Please put me down,” she murmured. “You’re causing a scene.”
“I like causing scenes.”
“Dr. Ernest, please.”
He grinned and strode toward the sleigh, his boots crunching in the frozen slush. “Besides, a man has a right to hold his bride, doesn’t he?”
“Not like this. Not in public. It’s uncivilized.”
“Who said I’m civilized?”
“I just want to say good-bye.” Her lips wavered with her attempt at a smile. “This is perhaps the very last time I’ll ever speak with or see many of these people.”
His footsteps slowed. The sorrow in her eyes reached inside him and yanked on his heart. What would it be like to leave a home and a family that truly cared? He couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“I’m sorry I have to rush you. Really I am.” He reached the sleigh and lowered her onto the stack of blankets Mrs. White had assembled for the cold drive. “But dragging out the good-byes isn’t going to help.”
She sighed. “I know.”
Mrs. White huffed and elbowed past him. “Dr. Ernest, your behavior is shocking . . . scandalous.”
Priscilla settled her feet on top of the portable foot warmer. The iron box with its various shaped holes was filled with glowing coals and hopefully would help keep her feet warm until they reached their destination for the day.
Mrs. White wrapped a blanket around Priscilla’s legs and feet to hold in the heat. “There is no need for you to require her to hurry this morning when you have already demanded so much.”
“If we could stay longer, we would,” Eli said. “But any delay could put our trip in jeopardy. Not only would I put Priscilla in danger but also Reverend Spalding and his wife.”
“Reverend Spalding?” Priscilla sat up.
“The other couple traveling with us.”
“There was a Reverend Spalding who proposed to Priscilla several years ago.” Mrs. White folded another blanket across Priscilla’s lap. “That was right after we found out—”
“Mother, please . . .”
“Well, it wasn’t meant to be.” Mrs. White patted Priscilla’s knees. “He wasn’t interested in missions the way Priscilla was, and it just wouldn’t have worked out.”
“I’m sure it’s not the same Reverend Spalding,” Priscilla rushed. “So let’s cease speaking of the matter. And we shall be on our way.”
Priscilla lifted her chin and set her face forward.
“Well, if you must leave . . .” Mrs. White reached for Priscilla and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “I’m proud of you.”
Priscilla held herself rigid for a moment. Then she crumpled against her mother, and silent tears slid down her cheeks.
Rushville, New York
Eli tugged on the reins until the sleigh came to a halt a safe distance from the tannery.
Next to him, Priscilla stirred.
She’d remained silent on her side of the sleigh until finally she’d succumbed to sleep. It hadn’t taken long for her to sidle next to him for warmth. Eventually, she’d rested her head against his shoulder, and when she’d shivered in her sleep, he’d draped his own blanket across her.
Wisps of her hair had slipped from the hood of her cloak and tickled his cheek. He watched the rise and fall of her bre
athing, a strange sense of pride stealing through him. His wife—this beautiful, kind lady—his wife. What would his family think of him now?
“We’re here,” he whispered.
With a shudder, she sat up.
She blinked several times and then swung her big eyes upon him. Wide with confusion, their softness reached out and grabbed him, twisting his lungs so he couldn’t breathe.
“Where are we?” She forced the words past chattering teeth. Her stiff fingers groped at the blankets and drew them tighter.
“You’re freezing.” He shot to the edge of the seat, assessing her condition. He’d been an idiot. He’d wanted to make good time and hadn’t bothered to check on her. But just because his big body could withstand the cold didn’t mean her delicate frame would.
His heart dipped with the sudden urgency to get her inside. “I should’ve stopped to refill the warming box.” Inwardly, he berated himself. He flicked the reins and steered the horse toward the cabin where Walt had brought them the day after he’d married Ma.
When Eli halted the sleigh in front of it, Priscilla shifted the blanket over her nose. “The scent is horrible. There must be a tannery nearby.”
He nodded at the sheds across the plot. “My stepfather’s.”
Her gaze swept over the yard, which was littered with broken boards and rusty tools, the lifeless garden full of tall weeds, the shards of crockery cutting through the thin layer of new snow—remnants of the rages that exploded whenever Walt overindulged in his homemade liquor.
Eli could guess what she was thinking. It was a sorry sight. He wasn’t proud of the place or his family. But he’d wanted to say good-bye. . . . It would be the last time. . . .
“Come on.” He reached a hand to Priscilla. “I’ll take you inside, and you can warm up.”
She shifted among the blankets and shook violently. He half lifted her out of the sleigh, steadied her on her feet, and helped her to the door.
With one arm around her, he banged a fist against the warped planks. “Ma, it’s me, Eli.” His muscles tensed like the wires of a trap.
Silence greeted him.
He hesitated a moment, then shoved the door open and stepped inside.
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