by Kris Tualla
She squeezed her husband’s hand. “You will teach me what to do, won’t you?”
“I will,” he assured her. “And James has slaves, if you find you need help.”
Her brow furrowed. “You would buy a slave?”
“No!” he declaimed. “I would pay for her services, however.”
Kirsten nodded, accepting that compromise. Her sheltered upbringing and staff of servants had left out some of the more basic points of running a household, even if there were only two in the house.
She sighed and tucked away a little bit of regret behind her heart. In spite of frequent and enthusiastic bedding, she had gone two months without conceiving a child. Perhaps she was indeed rendered infertile by the violent rape.
Never mind that, she told herself. Reid knew that was a possibility when he married her, and he said nothing about offspring since. He didn’t even appear disappointed when her courses began. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in fatherhood after all.
“After we dock, I’ll pay to have the trunks delivered and then take you to the hotel.” Reid’s words interrupted her disheartening thoughts. “Then I’ll send a note to James that we have returned and to expect us the day after tomorrow.”
“What will we do until then?” Kirsten asked.
Reid combed his fingers through his beard. “Today, a bath for each of us, and a shave for me.”
“That sounds nice,” Kirsten admitted.
“Tomorrow, I’ll buy a wagon, and order the stone for our house. Plus we’ll buy anything else we can think of that we’ll need.” He smiled down at her. “I own two Vermont draft horses who have been boarding at James’ estate during my absence, so I’ll hire a team and driver to load the wagon and take us to Cheltenham the next day.”
“How far is it?” Kirsten asked, feeling she should know.
“About ten miles,” Reid answered kindly, as if this was the first time he had imparted that information. “Only two hours.”
The bustle at the little dock was miniscule compared to either Boston or New Orleans. Reid walked her to the hotel—which was surprisingly nice—as soon as he made arrangements for their belongings.
He bought her an early dinner in the dining room in the meantime, a simple meal of roasted meat, potatoes, bread, and beans. The wine he selected was also a pleasant surprise. Kirsten drank it faster than she should have, judging by her gently spinning head. She stopped for a moment and thought about where she was. This strange and burgeoning land would be her home for the rest of her life.
Reid refilled her glass, then lifted his in a good-natured toast. “Welcome to Missouri, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, sir.” She smiled pensively and clinked her glass against his. “I cannot wait to enter my new kingdom.”
CHAPTER FORTY
October 10, 1782
Cheltenham
Reid worried about what Kirsten might think about the cabin. Though he built every inch of it with her in mind, he had to leave before he was finished. He explained that to her yester eve, when he offered her the same sort of arrangement which James had with Beatrice.
She staunchly refused.
“I want to sleep with you every night. I want to work beside you every day. I want us to create this life together,” she insisted.
“Even so,” he said. “Should you change your mind, or need a respite, that is always a possibility. I’ll not think less of you for it, I promise you that.”
“Thank you.” She dipped her chin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As the wagon came around the last bend in the grassy road, his cabin came into distant view. “There it is,” he said, watching her reaction.
Kirsten grinned. “You didn’t tell me you made a Norwegian roof!”
“They know what they’re doing,” he admitted. “My father taught me how when he put one on his hunting cabin.”
Motion around his home caught Reid’s attention. He leaned over and squinted.
“Is something amiss?” Kirsten asked.
“I don’t—no! My horses are there,” he responded. “James must have brought them over.”
Kirsten twisted to get a better view. “Is that a carriage?”
Reid began to grin, joy at his new friend’s consideration making this land truly feel like his home. “It is! I bet James is there now.” He turned his glee toward his wife. “Now you’ll be able to meet him straight away!”
James stepped out of the cabin as the wagon rumbled across the small, grassy patch which acted as a lawn. “Halloo!” he shouted, waving his arms. “Welcome back!”
Reid hopped from the wagon before it stopped rolling and loped to his front stoop. He and James greeted each other with a back-slapping bear hug before Reid noticed Beatrice standing inside the cabin.
“Welcome home, Reid,” she said with a smile. “Where is your wife?”
Reid spun and hurried back to the halted wagon. “I’ll lift you down,” he said to Kirsten before doing exactly that.
She regained her balance, straightened her skirt, and smoothed her hair as James and Beatrice approached. “Please excuse my dishevelment. I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone just yet,” she apologized.
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Don’t give it a thought. I believe you will find the social standards in this wilderness quite lacking.” She stuck out a hand which Kirsten accepted. “I’m Beatrice Atherton, your closest neighbor.”
“And this enchanting creature is Kirsten Sven Hansen, my wife,” Reid stated and gestured his introductions. “Beatrice and James Atherton.
“Enchanting, indeed,” James said as he kissed the back of Kirsten’s hand. “Now I understand Reid’s willingness to make his journey.”
“And we are both thankful it was a fruitful one,” Beatrice added. “Or the man’s company would be quite unbearable at this point.”
“Thank you for bringing the horses,” Reid said to James. “How did they fare?”
James winked at him. “She’s in foal, as you suspected she might be.”
Reid shook his head. “And the foal will be yours in exchange for the horse you lent me, just as you suspected it might be.”
The young man driving the wagon cleared his throat.
“We must unload!” Reid exclaimed. “The wagon is mine, but the boy needs to return to St. Louis with his team.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” James offered.
*****
Beatrice took Kirsten’s hand. “Come with me. I’ve something to show you.”
As they walked toward the log cabin, Kirsten noticed how solid it appeared. The shutters over the windows were open, as was the door. The women climbed the three steps to the stoop.
“Reid’s message arrived yesterday, so I brought some of my darkies over immediately,” Beatrice said. “The cabin has been untouched these last months, so I knew it was in no condition for you to move into.”
“What did you have done?” Kirsten asked, sincerely moved by the woman’s thoughtfulness.
“Swept and washed the floor, dusted away the cobwebs, washed the bed linens, and re-stuffed the mattress with wool. The nights are only getting chillier,” she answered.
Kirsten stood in the middle of the cabin, casting an evaluative eye around her new accommodations. The clean scent of pine sap was strong. The wood floor was spotless. The mattress on the big bed which was built into one corner looked very inviting after her weeks of travel.
The fireplace appeared to be scarcely used. One iron pan and one covered pot sat on the floor beside it. Surprisingly, a tin bathing tub claimed a corner.
“That was mine,” Beatrice confided. “We got a new one for the house and I thought you might appreciate a little touch of civilization.”
Kirsten chuckled. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
“We women have to stick together, there are so few of us here.” Beatrice sighed and her gaze moved to the open door. “I love James so much. But if anything happened to him, I’m not certain I could surviv
e out here.”
“Well I’m glad to have you, and I don’t even know you yet!” Kirsten effused. “I’m afraid I am completely out of my element in these surroundings.”
“We’ll have you over for supper tonight,” Beatrice offered. “I know you’ll say yes, because your kitchen isn’t set up yet. Come over whenever you are ready.”
Reid walked through the door with a trunk on his shoulder. He stopped and stared around the room. “Did you do this?” he asked Beatrice, his tone evincing happy surprise.
“We’re invited to the Atherton’s for supper this evening,” Kirsten said happily. “Once we get a bit settled.”
Reid grinned and swung the chest to the floor. “And we thank you again.”
James came in with another trunk. “I’m quite excited for you to see the house. It’s coming along very satisfactorily.”
“You are living there?” Reid asked Beatrice.
“I am,” she replied. We have the main wing assembled, though not all the rooms are habitable. We are comfortable enough for now.”
“I ordered the stone for our house,” Reid commented. “If I can find them in this jumble, I’ll bring my plans along.”
“I would love to see them.” James clapped his hands together. “It’s so good to finally have you back!”
Kirsten looked around the little group, standing in the snug little cabin, all smiling and chatting as if they had been lifelong friends. She never imagined that her life might take such a turn, and wondered at the contentment which flooded her chest. She smiled.
I’m home.
*****
Reid turned down the lamp and climbed into bed next to Kirsten. The scents of fresh linen and wool were spiced with Kirsten’s cloves. He breathed deeply, feeling as if he lay on a cloud in Heaven itself.
“So here we are,” he ventured.
“Here we are indeed,” she answered.
“What do you think of the Atherton’s?”
She snuggled closer. “James is a doll. A bit of a flirt, but with a loyal heart of pure gold.”
“And Beatrice?” Reid asked.
“I believe she has been quite lonely since coming here,” Kirsten observed. “I expect we’ll see a lot of each other. I do think we’ll become fast friends, just as you and James have.”
His wife’s positive response eased one of Reid’s concerns. “And the cabin?”
“It’s bigger than I expected from your descriptions,” she confessed. “And for Beatrice to bring her slaves over to clean it for us was unbelievably kind.”
“Are you comfortable?” he pressed.
She wiggled deeper into the bedclothes. “Very.”
“Do you believe you will be able to thrive in these conditions?”
Kirsten paused. “I have to be honest—that’s an easy answer because I know it’s temporary. By next winter we’ll have our stone house with all the amenities.”
“True,” he admitted.
“So for now, I see it as an adventure for you and I to share.” She rested a hand on his thigh.
“Tomorrow we’ll begin arranging everything the way you want it,” he stated. “And we can go back to St. Louis if we find we forgot anything, now that I have my own wagon.”
“Um-hm,” she hummed. Her hand moved upward to his hip.
Reid slid his palm over her breast, which pebbled at his touch. “Are you trying to seduce me, Prinsesse?”
“You didn’t carry me over the threshold,” she murmured. “The least you can do is christen our first night together in our new home.
Reid tugged Kirsten’s nightdress over her head. “Perhaps you should forgo wearing clothes to bed, as I do,” he whispered. “It would save us time.”
In spite of his teasing words, Reid determined not to rush their joining. After weeks of trying to achieve silent intercourse, tonight he wanted to fully enjoy their experience. He kissed her lips first, and then moved his mouth slowly all over her body.
Her moans of pleasure and pleas for him to hurry aroused him to an unbearable level. He slid into her, iron-hard and aching, the heat of her quim sending sparks through his veins. After several vigorous thrusts, they peaked at the same time. Their mingled cries of sweet release filled the cabin with a sensuous song which Reid knew he would remember for the rest of his life.
He remembered a conversation he had once with Kirsten. Something about every man hoping to found his own dynasty and to reign as sovereign over his own lands. He held her body against his in panting, post-coital bliss and knew that here, with his very own princess, those hopes would be his future.
We’re home.
EPILOGUE
January 2, 1789
The Hansen Estate
Cheltenham
“Nicolas, you need to stay in your bed.” Reid lifted the solid little boy and placed him back on the mattress. “It’s time for you to go to sleep.”
“Want my mamma!” he yelled, trying to squirm from his father’s grasp.
“I’m afraid he’s too stubborn to stay put,” Addie warned. Little Nicolas had already kicked his nanny in the shin in his effort to get through Reid and Kirsten’s latched bedroom door. “I’ve carried him to bed four times now, but he keeps running back to your door.”
“Want my Mamma!” Nicolas wailed, his objections shifting from frustration to tearful devastation. “Want my Mammaaaaa.”
Reid sat on the mattress beside his obstinate firstborn. “Nicolas, listen. Remember that Mamma has a baby in her belly?”
Nicolas sniffed and wiped his angry eyes with the back of a fist. “Uh huh.”
“That baby is coming out of her tonight,” Reid explained. “She’s very busy right now, helping the baby be born.”
“I help Mamma,” Nicolas insisted.
“Yes, and you are very good helper, son,” Reid said. “But this is something neither you nor I can help her do.”
Nicolas’s chin quavered and huge tears rolled from his dark blue eyes and down his ruddy cheeks. His blond hair stuck out in all directions, victim of his tantrum.
“Want Mamma,” he sobbed. “Want Mamma.”
Reid’s heart was breaking for his young son. At less than two years of age, he didn’t know how to make Nicky understand childbirth.
“What do you suggest, Addie?” Reid asked, at a loss and distracted by the imminent birth.
Addie shrugged. “If you let him sit on the floor outside the door, he’ll probably fall asleep and you can carry him to bed.”
Reid lifted Nicolas from the mattress. “Come on. You can sit outside the door and wait for Mamma to be done. But you must be quiet and listen for the baby, do you understand?”
Nicolas sniffled and nodded vigorously.
“If you aren’t quiet, you will have to stay in your room,” Reid warned his son.
“Yes, Pappa,” he whispered.
Reid sat Nicky in the corner next to the door jamb. He held his finger to his lips. Wide-eyed Nicolas touched his own lips with one chubby finger.
A long, loud groan of effort seeped through the heavy wood portal. Reid watched Nicolas, wondering if the birthing sounds might be too frightening for the child. Nicky’s lips pressed together as if ready to release a cry. Reid shook his head and made the shushing gesture again.
“If you want to wait here for Mamma, you have to be quiet,” he said again. “Do you want to stay or go to bed?”
“Stay,” Nicolas murmured. He clapped a hand over his mouth.
Reid nodded. “I’ll be back in a little while. Addie will stay here with you.”
He turned around and descended the stairs to the bottom floor, retreating into his study and closing the door. He poured himself a glass of brandy and sank into a stuffed leather chair in front of the fire. Unlike his son, Reid knew the perils of birthing and had no desire to listen to his wife’s labors.
He and Kirsten had been married for five years before Nicolas came along. Reid had given up hope that she might ever conceive and would have been sa
tisfied with the one big, healthy son. When Kirsten conceived a second time, so quickly after the first, Reid had mixed feelings.
On the one hand, having another child and a playmate for the willful Nicolas was a blessing indeed. Reid wished he and his wife might have had an army of boys, but knew when he married her that was unlikely. He held to no illusions from the start, and yet counted every day spent as her husband as an invaluable gift.
On the other hand, Kirsten was almost thirty-four years of age. He was thirty-nine. This child was coming even later in their lives than their first. Though Kirsten was a sturdy woman, fearless in most arenas, the dangers she faced giving birth at her age were undoubtedly increased.
Reid slid to his knees, rested his head on the seat of his chair, and began to pray fervently for his wife and children.
Addie shook Reid’s shoulder. “I believe you should come back upstairs.”
Reid lifted his head from the leather seat. “What time is it?”
“Six o’clock,” she answered. “The baby’s almost here.”
Reid unfolded his body, stiff from being bent on the cold floor. He pushed to his feet and followed the housekeeper up the stairs.
Nicolas was curled on the floor by the door, covered in a tufted blanket and sucking his thumb.
“I didn’t have the heart to move him,” Addie confessed. “He stayed awake for almost an hour, poor little fellow.”
A groan to end all groans vibrated through the door. Silence followed. Reid held his breath.
A sudden and vigorous cry relieved him of his first worry.
“Thank God,” Reid moaned as the infant’s cries gained strength and volume.
Nicolas’s eyes fluttered and his thumb was released with a soft pop. The boy looked up at his father, obviously confused. “Pappa?”
The door cracked open and the midwife’s assistant stuck her head out. “It’s another boy!”
“Kirsten?” Reid asked, trying to see past the woman.
