Linnet excitedly fetched him her gift, wrapped in a piece of plain calico and tied with a red bow. She placed the package on his lap. “Merry Christmas, my love!” she said, watching as he carefully unfolded the cloth and lifted out the waistcoat. He held it up so that the delicate embroidery on the front panels gleamed in the flickering light. The rich embroidery thread of the yellow ivy, entwined with flowers of shades of gold and russet reds, glinted sumptuously in the candlelight. It was a beautifully made garment, and he knew that Linnet must have spent many hours on it to have produced such fine work.
He was deeply touched, and he gathered her in his arms and held her close. “Thank you, my darling, it is the most beautiful waistcoat I have ever seen and I shall treasure it always. Now my gift to you, I hope you will not be too disappointed when you see it. I am afraid it lacks the skill and beauty of your waistcoat. Sit down and close your eyes.”
She did as he bid and John placed the casket on her lap. She opened her eyes and exclaimed with delight, “Oh my, John, it is lovely, a jewellery box, it is so beautifully carved! Thank you, darling!”
He grinned, delighted by her response. “I have been frantically carving the lid every time you went and saw to the stock. I was so sure that you would come back and catch me at it!”
Linnet giggled. “And I sat freezing cold in the barn each day sewing until my fingers were too numb to sew anymore!”
He acted startled. “So you haven’t been feeding the stock? Poor creatures will be dead from starvation!”
She smacked his arm playfully. “You… They are pampered, spoiled beasts that seem to demand more of me each time I visit them!”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I know because it is you who spoil the wretched creatures, they will be totally unmanageable come spring. How is that meat coming along? It smells absolutely delicious and I am starving!”
She hopped up and checked on the progress of their meal. “All’s well,” she reported. “Shall we play a game of chess and you could nibble on a tart while we play? The meal will not be ready for us to eat for at least an hour.”
John winked. “Nibble on a tart, eh? I’m not sure I’d go so far as to call you a tart, wench!” She smacked his cheek playfully and he hauled her into his lap, kissing her until she stilled, acquiescing to him. He finally shoved her off, giving her rump a resounding slap. “We will continue this later, you voracious strumpet!” he promised.
She giggled and went to fetch the chess set Hans had carved for them.
They spent a happy day just enjoying being together. After the chess, which John won, as he had won all their previous games, they played parlour games that Linnet had learned to play as a small child, giggling as they teased one another, each becoming more physically acutely aware of the other.
It had been a few weeks since they had last enjoyed conjugal relations due to John’s damaged leg but he was determined that, wound or no, he was going to pleasure his wife that Christmas night. The meal of roast venison, glazed with honey, was mouth-watering, and the accompanying suet crust and peas complemented the venison perfectly. The two of them made complete pigs of themselves, so that they had no room left for the English plum pudding that Linnet had made for their dessert, using a mixture of dried fruits that Sarah had packed for them from her own stores.
“Never mind the pudding, keep until tomorrow.” He was more concerned with another kind of dessert.
Linnet pouted prettily. “You do not even love me enough to sample my puddings,” she huffed petulantly.
His lips twitched. “Oh, I’ll sample your puddings, milady!” He caught her to him and swiftly eased her down on her back. She squealed as he bent his head, burying his face into her cleavage. He understood her tepid reaction. She was concerned for his injured leg.
He grasped her chin, turning her so that she was forced to look at him. “I want you. I will be careful of my wound, but I can wait no longer. I mean to have you tonight.”
He bent his head to her lips, and this time she wound her arms sinuously about his neck without complaint, proving to him that her need was as great as his for her. John enjoyed her plump sweet lips but he wanted more. Sliding the sleeves of her gown down her arms, he trailed kisses over her shoulders, licking her soft décolletage. He unlaced the front of her gown, baring the pale mounds of her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his gaze. Mesmerised, he drew one burgeoning nubbin into his mouth, giving a delighted husky sigh as his tongue curled around the sweet morsel of raised flesh.
She moaned. His manhood leapt with excitement, impatient to get to the main dish, but John wanted to savour this, it had been a long time since he’d taken his wife. He started to remove her clothing completely. Lowering the velvet gown, he slid the soft material over her contours, stopping to kiss each part of her body as it was painstakingly revealed. Her breath hitched as he removed her petticoat and unlaced her stays. Her naked skin was burnished by the flickering flames from the fire. He removed his shirt, savouring the sight of her voluptuous body as she lay on her back with one leg bent, shadowing her sex, watching him, waiting patiently for his attention.
Her copper hair spilled around her like a halo, the richness intensified by the fiery light thrown from the fire. Her eyes morphed into the misty sea-green that he now knew indicated arousal. She stretched seductively under the warmth of his gaze, a small sensual smile played across her lips as she watched intently as he unbuttoned his breeches. As he released his engorged phallus, she stretched out a languorous hand, running her fingertips lightly up the length of him. He pulsed at her touch. Sliding her palm down, she cupped his aching sac in her hand.
“Why do you not remove your breeks?” she asked throatily.
“I thought to leave them on as protection for my leg,” he replied.
She nodded. Rising up to kneel before him, she tossed her head. Her hair cascaded and rippled down her back like molten gold. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue over the head of his cock. He cupped her face between his palms and leaned toward her as she drew his shaft deep into her mouth.
Her breasts thrust forward, her nipples taut. John slipped his hands down and cupped them in turn, twisting and rubbing her nipples, eliciting small mewls and grunts from her wet mouth, which vibrated deliciously around his cockstand.
He watched her parted lips working him, teasing his swollen member, the sensation an exquisite torture, causing a flood of delight to course through his manhood. He immediately freed himself from her tender ministrations and pushed her onto her back. Holding her legs apart, he moved between her thighs then, setting her legs either side of his head, he laid them over his shoulders. Her cleft splayed open and he wasted no time in claiming her, glorying in her mewls and cries as she came apart, spending against his rapier tongue.
Her hands entwined in the thickness hair of his head as she tried fruitlessly to pull away. “Hush, love,” he soothed. “I intend to build another fire within you.”
He lowered his head to his task, tongue and fingers playing her slick furrow until, sure enough, he felt the arousing quiver of her flesh as she pulsed and cried out his name. The erotic reaction to her orgasm empowered him, urging him to wring the same cry of pleasure from her once again. He ran his tongue through her glistening furrow once more, enjoying her quivering reaction to the rasp of his tongue. Then, traversing the length of her torso, he took a nipple into his mouth, worrying the swollen peak, taunting her sensitive buds with his circling tongue. He petted her, whispering his love into her ear, mastering her body with his.
His manhood was heavy, aching with the need for release, but he resisted the urge, waiting for her to recover. He ran his hand up the length of her arm then, grasping her wrist, he drew her hand down between their bodies, placing her palm on his aching phallus. Her fingers closed over his throbbing manhood caressingly. Sliding down the turgid thickness of his shaft, she cupped his tightened sac, rubbing the soft area beneath until he groaned with delight.
Gently, he f
rigged her quim until she was slick, drenched with desire for him, ready for his mount. His breath became an urgent groan. A simple shift of his hips and he was aligned with her folds, easing his flanks forward, finally mating her—one sure thrust sheathed him to the root.
Beginning with slow strokes that encouraged her warm, wet welcome, he gradually increased the tempo which carried her with him to the edge of ecstasy. They hung together at the precipice, experiencing the overwhelming emotion that comes to those who truly love. Gazing deep into one another’s eyes, each lit by ecstatic delight, they fully recognised the deep love and trust that was between them, bound to one another body and soul as they climaxed together, their loving cries echoing loudly within the confines of their snug cabin.
Afterwards they remained conjoined, holding one another close as they drifted into sleep with the knowledge that they were as one.
Chapter 19
The weeks following Christmas were extremely cold. They experienced severe blizzards that lasted two full days. The wind howled, shrieking around the outside of the cabin. The force of icy gales drove the snow to pile high against the cabin door. It required a lot of digging to free up their entrance when the blizzards had finally passed. They were thankful the animals had survived without their attention, they did at least have water in their troughs. The cow was in some discomfort for the period that they could not get to her for milking. None of the creatures seemed to be the worse for their period of slight neglect. The winter seemed to continue interminably until early March. Linnet noticed the faint sound of running water. The stream had started to thaw. She ran excitedly into the cabin to tell John but met him returning from the barn.
“Listen!” she yelled excitedly.
“Is something wrong?” He limped over to her with concern.
She shook her head, eyes shining. “Just stand still and listen, tell me what you hear.”
He did as she asked, with a dawning realisation. “It’s finally thawing!”
She nodded excitedly. “Isn’t it wonderful? We can visit Sarah and Hans and travel on to Boston!”
John kissed her swiftly, walking back toward the warmth of the cabin. “I want to brush the snow from the cabin roof before it slides and catches one of us unawares.”
She caught up with him. “When do you think we will be able to travel, when can we go, John?”
“Not for a while yet, love, the mud is almost as dangerous as the snow, besides, although it is thawing now, the snow could still return. I should think perhaps we could leave at the beginning of May.”
“Not until May!” She was bitterly disappointed. She had thought they would leave soon, perhaps even the following week.
“Well, I suppose we could risk a visit to the Lammers as soon as the snow melts,” John reflected, noticing his wife’s disappointed expression.
“I guess so.” She shrugged dispiritedly and went into the cabin to place the risen dough in the oven to bake. How nice it would be to see Sarah again and share their winter experiences.
John’s leg healed, the scars growing paler by the day. He was able to clear the cabin roof of snow and they waited to see if the thaw would continue. It did—by the end of the week, they’d made plans to travel down into the valley to visit the Lammers family on horseback. Linnet cooked provisions for the journey and baked a seed cake for young Peter, knowing it was his favourite.
She’d made Sarah a pretty purse, using a piece of left over green velvet. The winter days of enforced inactivity had proved a blessing as far as her dressmaking was concerned. She’d made a serviceable riding skirt and habit for herself from the grey serge.
Between them, they’d made Hans a tobacco pouch. John had prepared the hide from a piece of deerskin, scraping it and soaking it, drying and oiling until it until it was supple enough for Linnet to sew.
The day before they were due to leave, John wrapped Linnet’s jewellery cask in cloth and buried it beneath the wall of the barn, then covered the area with debris.
Finally, with preparations for their brief journey complete, they went to saddle the horses. Saddling Amber was rather like trying to hold onto a slippery, wet fish. Linnet waited for her naughty horse to breathe out so she could tighten the girth but Amber was skittish after being enclosed for so long.
The horses had become very spoilt during the long winter months and Amber filled her lungs with air so that her mistress couldn’t tighten the girth. Linnet knew that if she rode her with a loose girth, she would fall off as soon as Amber let out her breath.
“You are a bad girl!” Linnet scolded the horse as she rolled her eyes and danced sideways. “Oooh, if only I could spank you!” she exclaimed, exasperated.
“I don’t know why you bother to scold her, Linnet; both she and I know you don’t mean a word of it! Here, let me try.” He strode up to the horse and slapped her rump. “Behave!” he instructed firmly.
Amber seemed to know that her master meant business. She let out her breath, allowing him to tighten the girth.
“Well!” Linnet spluttered with disgust. “I’ve been trying to do that for an age, and all it took was one smack on the rear end from a man!”
“Women and horses, much alike,” he assured her smugly.
Linnet bristled but couldn’t help chuckling at her puffed up husband. “Sometimes you’re such an arrogant swine!” She grabbed hold of a handful of hay, deftly thrusting it down John’s neck. He spun about, catching her as she attempted to scuttle towards the barn door. Swinging her hard against him, he captured her wrists behind her back, leering down at her, one eyebrow cocked. “A spanking or kisses are forfeit, which does my lady choose?”
She pursed her lips, thinking, and he lowered his mouth to hers. His hands dropped to her bosom, tweaking her burgeoning nipples through her gown. Linnet deftly stuck her foot through his legs and hooked it up behind his knee, unbalancing them both. They overbalanced and fell into a heap, ending up in a tangle of arms and legs upon the hay-covered floor. John tipped her face down across his thigh and smacked her bottom then began to tickle her unmercifully. They were both laughing so hard that their sides ached and they fought to get their breath back.
Eventually, he managed to stand and helped Linnet back to her feet. They brushed the hay off one another and John emptied his shirt of hay. Then they returned to the task of saddling up and tying on their bundle of provisions. Once the fire was fully doused and the cabin secure, they wrapped up warmly and mounted, setting off. Daisy the cow was tethered to John’s horse, as they couldn’t leave her behind on her own.
The snow had receded but there were still patches, making the ground slippery underfoot and the journey tricky. They had left in the early morning, but because they had to travel so slowly, they didn’t reach the farm until the afternoon. Linnet’s heart raced as they rode up to the house. She was slightly nervous about the reception they would receive, arriving so unexpectedly.
She had been hurt that Sarah hadn’t wanted them to stay with them throughout the winter. Although, now that she had experienced the isolation of a winter, she could understand Sarah’s reservations. Linnet need not have worried; the door to the farm house was flung open and Peter ran out shouting with excitement, followed by a beaming Hans and a waddling Sarah.
Linnet gaped.
“Well, are you getting down or staying up there all night?” Sarah asked, grinning up at Linnet’s astonished face.
“You’re with child!” Linnet squealed.
Sarah nodded delightedly. “Yes, isn’t it wonderful? I didn’t realise at first! Hans noticed that I was unwell most mornings and suggested that I might be with child. I snapped the poor man’s head off but it turns out he was right after all!”
Linnet dismounted and hugged her friend, careful not to squeeze her too tightly.
“What are you doing here? You are both mad to travel yet!” Sarah scolded.
Hans came up behind Linnet and gave her a great bear hug, swinging her up off her feet. “It is wonderfu
l to see you. Is that man of yours keeping my cabin in good repair, eh?” he asked jovially.
John answered. “It is in excellent repair. No thanks, though, to a large cougar that tried to destroy both me and the cabin!”
Peter caught John’s hand excitedly. “A real mountain lion? Did you kill it, Mr. Foster? How big was it?”
“Peter, enough, John can tell us the story over supper.” Sarah ushered them all into the warmth of the house.
It was wonderful for all of them to have company and conversation again. The evening turned into a party. Each couple shared their winter experiences, but Hans and Sarah seemed to have had rather a quiet time of things compared to John and Linnet. Sarah was intrigued by Linnet’s encounter with the native child and asked no end of questions. Hans was concerned by the sighting of natives so close to the homestead. He’d heard that a number of attacks had been levelled at white settlers farther inland, but John assured him that these natives had been reasonably friendly. Sarah’s talk was of her coming babe, which she judged would arrive sometime around the end of May. She was full of surprise that, after all this time, she should conceive again.
Sarah observed a new maturity in Linnet and a new closeness between Linnet and John that had been lacking when she had last seen them together. She was relieved that they had achieved a good bond and wished them the good fortune that she and Hans now shared. Hans was delighted with his tobacco pouch and she with her purse. She insisted that John keep The Iliad as a gift, and presented Linnet with a needle case that she’d made herself and filled with different sized sewing needles.
Linnet gave the cake she had baked to Peter, he insisted on cutting it up and sharing it out between them all. Finally, full of cake, he went cheerfully out into the cold, slamming the door as he disappeared outside. The adults settled down to more serious conversation, sharing news they could not in front of a young boy. Hans presented John with a beautiful map he’d drawn to help them on their journey to Boston, and the two men pored over that while they sipped whisky together.
Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master Page 25