An Amish Man of Ice Mountain (The Amish of Ice Mountain Series Book 2) (16 page)

Dear Gott,
jah
, right now. Simply pull her in the tub, slide together and . . .
“I’m all right,” he managed.
Liar.

She seemed to consider and he held his breath in the sweet abeyance; then she tilted her head to one side. “Will you show me, Joseph? How you like to touch yourself when you need that release . . . I mean, assuming that you, that you have to . . .” She blew out a breath in frustration and he did move then, to gently catch her hand and stroke it down his cheek, turning his mouth into her palm.

“Mmm, Priscilla, of course I touch myself. It’s a perfectly natural thing to do, and I can show you . . . but you could help me, if you wanted, my sweet
frau
.”

“How?” she asked, and he didn’t miss the wide-eyed look of mingled curiosity and wariness in her eyes.

Matter-of-fact. Be matter-of-fact and she’ll respond . . .
He nodded to the damp sponge in her lap. “Any kind of friction can make it feel better. That sponge will do nicely.”

“Oh . . . here.” She plopped the sponge into the water in obvious embarrassment and a drop of water hit him in the eye.

He blinked rapidly.

“Oh, Joseph, I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “Don’t be . . . Here, you take the sponge and I’ll put my hand over yours and sort of—guide you.”

“Okaaay.”

Her fingers were stiff around the sponge as he cupped them in his much larger hand. “Relax,” he whispered.

She nodded, clearly concentrating. He led her small hand with the barrier of the sponge to the swollen part of him that pulsed beneath the surface of the warm water. He gritted his teeth when the sponge found its mark and he squeezed her fingers tighter.

“Oh,” she gasped.

He managed a nod of encouragement. “Now,” he instructed softly, “glide upwards and down with my hand. You won’t hurt me, I promise. The tightness feels
gut
.”

“Really?” she asked, clearly dubious.

“Really . . .” He couldn’t resist a gasp of pleasure when her fingers convulsed inside of his. “That’s . . . right.” He let his head fall backwards and arched his back against the friction and pressure and then it was all over too fast and he sobbed aloud, part pleasure, still wanting.

“Joseph? Was that—all right?”

He laughed breathlessly. “That was perfect.”

“Your face is red and you’re sweating,” she noted.

He smiled. “I’m lucky I’m alive after that, sweetheart. I felt like I was dying there for a moment.”

“And it was still good?” she demanded.

“Wunderbar
, my
frau. Wunderbar.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Priscilla watched Joseph from the corner of her eye as he worked busily with Jude and Edward, setting up a medium-sized quilting frame in the Lyons’ front room. It was a week after Mary had come home from the hospital and she was feeling well enough to have the baby quilting that had been planned for some time. But as much as Priscilla delighted in the thought of trying out her quilting skills, the subtle bend and turn of her husband’s body was all the more intriguing.

“I can see that I need not bless the marriage bed,” Grossmudder May said aloud as she poked at Priscilla’s skirt with her cane. “The way you’re looking at him, the
kinner
will
kumme
fast and fine.”

Priscilla jumped and flushed. She bent her head and hoped no one had overheard. “Grossmudder May . . .” She couldn’t keep the reproach from her tone, though she smiled down into the wizened face.

“
Ach
, don’t mind an
auld
woman, Priscilla King. It’s one of my delights to speak both the truth and my mind. Now, where has Sarah gotten off to?”

Priscilla watched with true affection as Grossmudder May hobbled off toward the kitchen. She turned back to find the quilting frame in place and her husband right behind her.

“I’m off to see the bishop, as he asked me to,” Joseph said.

Priscilla nodded, wondering how the simple sound of his husky voice could make her thoughts shimmer with delight. “All right.”

But he didn’t move and she knew instinctively what he was waiting for . . . What would she want tonight? Ask of him? She dropped her lashes and lifted them quickly, then stretched to whisper in his ear. “Tonight I want what you want, Joseph.”

She wanted to giggle at the look of surprise on his handsome face and knew with joy that if they hadn’t been standing in a roomful of people, he would have probably kissed her long and hard. As it was, he looked at her mouth with a none-too-subtle longing, then turned and left as if the room had grown too hot in a matter of seconds.

The other men soon left too, bent on meeting at Ben Kauffman’s store for some talk and a round of cheese and crackers, leaving many of the women of the community to gather at Mary’s door.

Frau Umble brought Mama Malizza and the two chattered on together like young girls, but Priscilla barely had time to visit with them as she found herself hurriedly making more sandwiches in the kitchen. Even though many had brought a dish to share, the finger sandwiches were disappearing at an alarming rate, and Priscilla learned quickly how to make
Amisch
egg salad. She was surprised at the amount of fresh celery and spicy mustard that went into the mixture, but after having a quick spoon taste, she found it to be delicious.

The little girls had their own tea too, but they mostly darted through the kitchen and other rooms and Priscilla had to content herself with the knowledge that Hollie was surely among those playing while her fingers flew at the sandwich board.

Finally, she had the opportunity to take one of the newly opened seats at the quilt frame, and sat down with a sigh of pleasure. She bent to glance beneath the spread of the quilting, wondering if Hollie was scrambling to fetch the women’s needles that fell through, as she didn’t seem to be running about. When she didn’t see her daughter, Priscilla abandoned her seat and set about to casually look for the little girl, not wanting to raise an alarm and ruin Mary’s day.

 

 

Joseph saw the little girl curled up in the shelter of some mossy rocks, her small shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

He walked up slowly, not wanting to startle the child, and then looked more closely at the golden hair sliding free of its braid.

“Hollie?”

She turned and gazed up at him, then burst into loud, renewed sobs.

He immediately went to her and sat down on the ground, tenderly feeling her arms and legs, searching for possible injury. “Hollie, are you hurt,
kind
? Tell me quickly, please.”

“My . . . my heart hurts, Joseph.”

“Your heart?” He pulled the little girl into the circle of his arms, feeling a faint relief, but not understanding at the same time.

“Yeah, I think it’s broke—broken.”

“Ach,”
he whispered. “I’m
gut
at fixing things,
kind
. Will you give me a chance with your heart?”

She shook her head. “No, I can’t.”

“Why not, sweetling?”

“Because you’re why it’s broken,” she choked.

If she had struck him full in the face, it couldn’t have shaken him more. He drew up his knees and cradled her closer. “What did I do?”

“Suzanne Mast said . . . she said that you’re my daddy now, but you never told me that. And I have one other daddy, but he scares me and hurts Mommy, so maybe . . . I don’t know—I don’t know what I have.”

Joseph felt his throat grow thick with tears and he leaned back against the rocks, murmuring soothing sounds to the child while his own heart pounded with uncertainty.
If I tell her I’m her father, what will it take from her? And why, Gott, did she have to see such ugliness with her real
daed
?
And then, as he eased his straw hat back, he felt a cool breeze spring up from the mountain as it so often did, soothing him. Bringing him clarity in heart and mind.

“Hollie, what you have are many people to love you and care for you now. Your
mamm
, my
daed
, Jude and Mary and little Rose, Edward and Grossmudder May, and on and on . . . too many to count. You have a whole community now. And nobody is asking you to stop loving your daddy . . .”

“But what about you?” she sniffed. “Are you . . . ? What are you?”

He smiled then and bumped his forehead against hers. “I’m whatever you want,
kind
. Whatever you need.”

She reached up with soft hands to touch his face, then smiled slowly. “Will you be my daddy, Joseph?”

“
Jah
, sweet. I will.”

“Oh, thank you.” She placed her small lips against his forehead and to him it felt right, like a seal of hope.

“You’re very welcome, Hollie. Now why don’t you run back to the quilting before your
mamm
misses you, hmm?”

She rose and he helped her brush off her dress. Then she turned and blew him a kiss. “All right, good-bye . . . Daddy.”

He caught her kiss and made a show of putting it in his shirt pocket, then watched her skip off along the path. He leaned back and stared up at the blue sky above the pine tops, his eyes filled with wonder and prayer.
Daddy . . .

 

 

“Mommy! Joseph said he’ll be my daddy—isn’t that great, huh?”

Priscilla barely had time to glimpse her daughter’s smiling face as Hollie darted past her on the path, headed back toward Mary and Jude’s house. “Hollie! Yes . . . that’s wonderful, but . . .” She was about to turn and follow the little girl when something made her turn instead to the path ahead. She peered round the bend and saw Joseph, sitting and smiling, leaning against some rocks.

“Joseph?”

She walked to him slowly, liking the way his eyes narrowed in thought as he watched her approach. She felt like blushing at his obvious attention but kept her composure; she needed to thank him for whatever he had said to Hollie.

She dropped to her knees in front of him and he pulled her to him in a deep hug.

“What happened?” she murmured against the sunshine freshness of his burgundy shirt.

“Nothing . . . everything. Hollie asked me if I’d be her father. I don’t even know how to explain how much it means to me . . . if I can do a
gut
job.”

Priscilla smiled at him. “Do you think I’d let you do anything but a
gut
job . . . and that . . . that God would let you do anything less with His help?”

He shook his head.
“Nee.”

She brushed his hair back from his face tenderly, so grateful to have a man like him in her life, in her daughter’s life. She bent forward and kissed him boldly, using her tongue, deepening the kiss until he groaned against her mouth.

“Priscilla . . . what . . .”

“Joseph, all the women are at Mary’s and all the men are at the store.”

“Jah?”
he breathed.

“We could—we could go home or somewhere, anywhere, and maybe . . . do what you’d like for a change.”

“I like what we do,” he said hoarsely.

“I know, but . . .” She let her gaze drop suggestively, amazed that she could be so open with him, but the days he’d spent giving her control had somehow built up her confidence, her desire for him.

She watched him accept her words and then he pulled her to her feet as he rose. “Priscilla, if you’ll trust me, I know the perfect place to go.”

“Anywhere, Joseph,” she whispered. “Anywhere with you.”

 

 

Joseph held back the curtain of pine branches and lifted a hand to the hidden pool of water that formed in the creek bed. The place breathed of secret intimacy, in its moss-covered rocks, tender pine-strewn forest floor, and the distant song of a lark adding just the right music to the moment.

He watched his wife’s face brighten in the play of sunshine that shafted through the trees and he swung her up in his arms with ease and abandon.

“Oh, Joseph, it’s beautiful here. How did you find it?”

“I didn’t. Jude did on one of his rambles over the mountain before he wed Mary. He gave me the general directions, and I’ve always remembered—not knowing why, of course . . . until now.” He lowered his mouth to hers, then walked to the edge of the pool, not breaking the kiss.

Then he slid her to the ground, letting her feel his body, his longing, and she gasped softly against his mouth.

“I want to undress you,” he said, unable to keep the urgency out of his voice.

“I want you to.” She dropped her arms to her sides and he recognized the posture as one almost of submission—not what he wanted. He didn’t need her to think in years to
kumme
of their first lovemaking as even a vague reminder of what had surely happened with Heath.

He dropped to his knees and lifted one bare foot into the palm of his hand, running his mouth over the small bones on top and the gentle curve from heel to ankle. Then he rested his hands on his thighs and stared up at her petite frame.
Dear Gott, let me do this right . . .

He ran a questing hand upwards beneath her skirt, skimming over clearly defined calves and soft knees and then found her right thigh and let his quest stop there for the moment. She leaned forward to put her hands on his shoulders, her slender limbs shaking, and he pulled his hand back down only to quickly work at the apron pins so near his chin. He knew they’d have to search the moss for the tiny glittering silver things later, but right now, he was past caring. He verged on the edge of franticness and decided with some vestige of control that he needed to cool down, take his time.

He glanced at the pool round the curve of her hip and stared up into her wide blue eyes, eyes that competed in beauty with the skies above.

“Priscilla, let’s swim for a bit first.”

She stood up, taking her hands from his shoulders. “You mean skinny-dipping?”

“Skinny—what?”

She laughed, a free, easy sound that he took to heart and treasured. “It’s an
Englisch
expression but it means—well, swimming naked.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that better. So, will you swim . . . naked with me?”

She nodded. “I’ve never done that before.”

“
Gut
. Neither have I.”

She seemed pleased by his admission and he watched for a moment as she laid shaking fingers on the first pin near her hip. Then he brushed her hands aside. “Let me, sweet spitfire, if you can stand my ministrations for a moment.”

“Take your time,” she urged and he laughed, finding pins here and there. Then he reached to lift off her dress, leaving her in only a shift bottom and light blue blouse. He was quicker than he’d intended, anxious to see her in the state of undress she’d had him in so many times over the past days, but also inspired by the soft, slight beauty of her as he removed the remainder of her clothing and her
kapp
.

“
Ach
, Priscilla,” he whispered, letting his eyes rove over her body and wondering for the first time if she might be too small for his big frame. But she clung to him, hiding her body against his black pants and shirt, letting him feel the press of her against every inch she could seemingly reach, standing on his boots and arching her back to kiss him.

He ran his fingers through the long red fall of her hair and let his hands slide downward to cup her soft bottom, closing his eyes on the wash of sensation. He felt alive, restless, yet riveted to the moment in a way he’d never been.

“Is the water cold, do you think?” she asked, pulling back to gaze down into the pool.

“Ice-cold.” He laughed, then reached to squeeze her hand. “But I’ll be glad to keep you warm.”

“Then undress,” she suggested lightly, watching him.

“As you wish.” He obeyed her in what had to be record time, then took her hand again and pulled her to perch on the edge of the pool. “Ready?” he asked.

“I don’t know . . .” She dipped a toe in hesitantly then drew back with a shiver.

He smiled. “The best way to do it, I think, is fast.
Kumme
on.” He gave her a brief tug and pulled them both into the deep, swirling water.

They both screamed as their heads emerged.

“I am soooo cold.” Priscilla laughed, her teeth chattering. “Was this your way to cool my desire, my husband?” she teased, grabbing for his arms.

Joseph was shivering too, but he had to laugh at the exhilarating feel of being alive and with someone he loved . . .
I love . . .