Patricia Rice (31 page)

When she heard the rustle of his clothing, she stiffened. Surely, he wouldn't? The bed was too small. The room was next to his mother's. She was eight months' pregnant! What did he think he could do under those conditions?

Climb into the bed with her.

Icy hands touched her flannel-covered arm as he lowered his weight to the mattress. Dora started to protest, but he already sprawled behind her, tucking his knees up behind hers, warming his chest against her back. She nearly choked on her protests when she finally realized he was stark naked.

"What do you think..."

"It's freezing in here," he murmured against her hair. "How do you stand it? Take off that gown so we can get closer."

Take off her gown? Dora gave him an incredulous look over her shoulder. She had a naked, hairy man in her bed, and he was telling her to take off her clothes. She didn't even dream of moments like this.

"I will not," she said. "It's cold. Besides, I cannot be a wife to thee like this. It's impossible."

Pace nuzzled her ear. "Probably not, if we put our minds to it, but all I'm interested in is getting warm. Feel the heat? It's starting already. It will be better with your gown off."

She felt heat all right. She was on fire. She still saw no reason for taking her gown off and displaying her ugliness. She could feel Pace's loins pressed against her buttocks with the gown on. She blushed thoroughly at the thought of how it would feel if she wore nothing.

"I can't," she whispered back fiercely. "What if thy mother calls for me?"

"My God! Is she still dragging you out of bed, even in this condition? I'll have a word or two with her about that in the morning. Now let's get you out of this gown. Annie can sleep in here tomorrow and listen for her. For now, we'll make do."

He pulled the hem of her gown up around her hips and waited patiently for her to lift herself. Dora couldn't believe it. He embarrassed her right down to her toes. But when he tugged, she lifted. In seconds, her gown lay on the floor and his hands rested on her naked flesh.

"Better," he murmured, moving closer. "A man could come to like this real well."

Dora was appalled. She could feel Pace's hard-muscled thigh against hers. His hands roamed, gently exploring her belly first. He gave a grunt of surprise when the child kicked. His hand disappeared for a minute, then came back with a pillow. He tucked it beneath her protruding abdomen.

"Give the kid a place to lay his head. How's that?"

It was wonderful. The support took away some of the weight. Dora leaned a little closer into the curve of his body.

Pace immediately took advantage, raising his hand to stroke her breast. She gasped in surprise, but he lingered.

"You're so soft and warm," he murmured sleepily. "I could hold you all night."

A minute later, she heard him snoring. The hand on her breast relaxed, but his heat continued to warm her.

As long as she didn't think of that long ridge of his masculinity pressed against her, she could relax too. Even in repose, he was large. She wouldn't think of what would happen when he awakened.

* * *

She had reason to remember that thought when she woke the next morning. The gray of dawn illumined the frosty windowpane, and drowsy with sleep and warmth, she snuggled deeper into the covers. She didn't know why she woke at first. It didn't take long to discover the cause.

Even though Pace still lightly snored, the male part of him stirred.

It felt odd, lying here in the comfort of her once lonely bed, feeling the child in her womb tossing on one side, and her husband coming to life behind her. Three in the bed was definitely a crowd, but she had been alone so long, she couldn't help lingering a while to sample the newness of the sensation.

She didn't linger long before Pace's nimble fingers began to stroke and feel. With a horrified "Pace!" Dora peeled back the covers.

He held her easily with the strength of one arm. "I think it's possible," he murmured thoughtfully behind her. "If you'll just..."

Dora nearly leaped from her skin when his hand pried between her legs, caressing her and adjusting himself to fit between.

"It's not decent!" she whispered in horror, horribly conscious of her enormous size. "Let me go, Pace." Embarrassment drove even deeper as she realized a more pressing urge than the man between her legs. "I can't, Pace, please. I've got to get up. Please, thou must leave now."

Something of the urgency in her voice must have finally penetrated. He lifted himself up on one arm and peered down at her with uncertainty. "Am I hurting you? What's wrong, Dora?"

She jerked the quilt over her nakedness and pulled it loose of the bed so she could get up decently covered. "I need to use the privy," she muttered through clenched teeth, wishing him to the devil right now. She'd never spoke of her private needs to anyone before. Now she had a husband who would be intimate with every one of them. She wasn't precisely grateful for that knowledge.

"Like hell," he grumbled. "It snowed last night. Can't you tell? Haven't you got a chamber pot in here?"

He scrambled out of the bed, unconscious of his nudity as he searched her washstand for the required article. When he produced it with a triumphant flourish, he turned to see his red-faced wife standing beside the bed, cowering behind all the blankets she could free from the mattress.

Understanding dawned slowly. At first, he was more intent on his first glimpse of his new wife without all the primping and combing with which women usually greeted the world. Dora's hair fell in a tangled mass of silver curls across her brow and into her eyes, trailing in tendrils along her throat. He didn't get much further than that. The flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks and the wretchedness in the flash of her eyes warned he'd overstayed his welcome.

Jerking on his trousers, Pace hastily departed.

Dora dropped the covers and grabbed the pot with a sigh of relief. Her husband was an imposing man in his nakedness, even more so in an aroused state. But her physical need of the moment didn't match his. She relieved herself in the pot and thanked God a person could not actually die of embarrassment.

She tried not to think about Pace while she dressed, but she had some difficulty avoiding it while stumbling over his coat and picking up his drawers from the floor. They were knit drawers, and she knew full well how they looked stretched over his trim hips and muscled thighs. Hours on horseback must have given him legs like that. She didn't look at the opening in the drawers meant to accommodate his manhood. That was the main thing she tried not thinking about.

She would have to be a wife to him. She'd already given him that right when she had laid down with him last summer. He had made that right legal by marrying her. She no longer had full ownership of her own body. She belonged to her husband in every sense of the word.

What in the name of God had she done to herself?

Chapter 23

Anger may be foolish and absurd, and one may be irritated when in the wrong; but a man never feels outraged unless in some respect he is at bottom right.

~ Victor Hugo, "Famine,"
Les Miserable
(1862)

"Damn those Nichollses! Damn each and every one of them!" Finding the humidor empty, the gray-haired man flung it against the wall, narrowly missing the younger man sitting with his ankle crossed over his knee in the chair across from his desk. The speaker scarcely seemed aware of the near miss as he shuffled around in his desk drawer for a loose cigar. The stroke years earlier had left his fingers crippled and his motions awkward, which frustrated him even further. "I should have hired a lawyer before marrying my little girl off to one of those bastards. They can't do anything right."

The younger man reached into an inside pocket and withdrew one of his cigarillos, handing it across the desk. "I don't imagine Charlie asked to die."

"But he could have named my daughter and granddaughter as heirs!" Ethan Andrews grabbed the cigarillo and crunched it between his teeth. "Who would have thought the bastard would leave it to Payson? That makes no sense a'tall!"

"It just puts a slight hitch in our plans, Ethan. Calm down, and don't make such a scene about it. We can work around it."

Ethan puffed the cigarillo furiously for a minute, then removed it from his mouth to glare at his visitor. "Sure you can. That relieves you from courting my daughter, doesn't it? People are beginning to wonder about you, Joe. How old are you now? Thirty? Thirty-five? And no wife to show for those years? It don't look good."

Irritation flickered across the mayoral brow, but Joe conquered it as he eventually conquered all things. "Josie ain't been a widow long enough, Ethan. You know that. I'll court her when the time's right, whether she owns the Nichollses' place or not. It ain't my fault she chose the wrong man the first time around. The problem at hand is that patch of land between that corner acreage of yours, the Nicholls place, and the Quaker land. We can't cut the road from here through there until we've got property rights. It would have made it a mite easier if Josie had inherited, then we could have gone around the Quaker land. Now we'll try a different route."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "You'll not get away with that back taxes ploy this time, boy. Payson ain't anybody's fool. And he's married to the Quaker gal now."

"As if I didn't already know that. If it hadn't been for that fool girl getting over to the courthouse to sign that deed, we'd have been sitting pretty." Disgruntled at last, Joe glared at the old man puffing away on his last cigar.

"Charlie would have had your head if he'd come home and found you'd horned in on his farm," Ethan replied. "You played that one too damned close to the margin."

"I would have fixed it with Charlie. I just didn't have time to wait for him to get out of prison and get home. Now look where we are. This holds up construction for months. We've got to do something. With a little more capital, we could build a rail line instead of just a toll road."

Ethan wrinkled his forehead in thought. "I sure enough didn't figger on Pace coming home and marrying that little Quaker gal. Should've guessed it was his brat she's carrying, though. He had to do the honorable thing. It kind of relieved me to hear it when Josie told me last week. Josie's had her heart set on Pace since she was a young'un, and I feared she'd set her sights on him again. I guess she's probably smarter than that now."

Joe frowned and sat forward. "What do you mean, he had to do the honorable thing? He hasn't been home since last summer. I figured that's when they married."

Ethan gave a short laugh and looked at his guest with sly triumph. "Shows you don't know everything, don't it? He may have plowed her last summer, but he just now got around to doing the honors."

Joe's eyes narrowed in thought. "That fool sheriff said she was married when she signed that damned deed. If she wasn't..."

The two men looked at each other. If Ethan's sagging mouth had been able to pucker, he would have whistled at the look on the younger man's face.

* * *

"Thou must eat, Pace. I have brought thee some dinner. I thought we—"

Pace made an absent gesture at the sycamore on the edge of the newly plowed field. "Just leave it over there. I'll get to it later."

Dora's lips tightened. "No, thou wilt not. It will be the same as yesterday. Thou wilt send it home with Solly and go hungry. There is more than enough for everybody, Pace. Thou wilt be skin and bones if thou doth not eat something soon."

"For God's sake, Dora, leave me alone!" Pace gave her a look of irritation as he lifted the hoe in his hand. "Go mother Amy. I'm busy."

"I can see that," Dora snapped back. "Thou and Solly hath stood here scratching thy heads and staring at the sky for a quarter of an hour now. Thou art very busy. Forgive me for intruding."

She couldn't properly march away with head held high as she would like. The newly plowed furrows made walking difficult, and her bulk made every step an adventure. From behind her, she heard Pace shout, "Dammit all, Dora, stay out of the field! You shouldn't be out of the house now."

She wouldn't be out of the house if he had the sense to come in for dinner, she grumbled to herself, but she wouldn't lower her dignity by shouting back at him. She saw no reason for arguing with a miserable pigheaded fool.

But she worried herself sick about him. He'd been home for weeks now, long enough to get the largest field plowed and the tobacco set, but with each passing day he looked older and more fatigued, and he drifted farther away from her and his family. She sensed the wrongness, but she didn't know the cure.

Josie met her in the kitchen, glancing at Dora's empty hands. "Did he eat it?"

"I couldn't even get him to talk with me long enough to convince him," she answered wearily.

"He doesn't eat enough to keep a gnat alive." Josie worried at her bottom lip. "He's always out in that field. Does he ever sleep?"

That was a loaded question if Dora ever heard one. She washed her hands at the pump and smoothed the cool water over her face just to avoid answering. Pace had moved her into his larger room on the other end of the hall from his mother, but he spent little time there himself. Occasionally she would wake to find his dirty clothes lying on the floor and a hollow in the pillow beside her, so he apparently at least went to bed sometimes. She wasn't at all certain that he actually slept. Only a person who never slept could creep in and out of bed without her noticing.