It was made to fit women of varying measurements, overlapping and tying at the waist, and she worked slowly at the process. Beneath it he suspected she wore new undergarments, and if the glimpses of dainty, pale bits of sheer fabric he’d seen fluttering on the clothesline yesterday were anything to go by, Ellie was clothed in fancies guaranteed to appeal to his masculine nature.
She’d hung them carefully between a row of sheets and another of shirts and trousers. Win had watched from the back door as she pinned them to the rope line and touched them with admiring hands.
His Ellie was filled with mysteries. Raised without the benefit of a mother’s care, she had somehow achieved the womanly arts on her own. Much of her upbringing had prepared her for hard work, for the joyless chores of keeping a house and providing for the menfolk who lived there. But somewhere, she had gained a knowledge of the small touches that proclaimed her femininity.
Her hands lifted to her hair, and she shed the pins in seconds, allowing the dark mass to tumble down her back. His loins tightened at the sight, even as he felt the breath catch in his throat. And then she stood, her dress falling from her shoulders, sliding the length of her arms as she turned to place it over the nearby chair. She bent, and the upper curves of her breasts were full against the dainty fabric of the vest she wore, the darker shadows beneath it catching his eye.
A trace of guilt, that he should watch her as she disrobed, unaware of his presence, nudged his conscience and he cleared his throat, a soft sound that caught her attention. Her eyes met his in the candlelight, and he saw a trace of fear in the quick smile she assumed for his benefit.
Yet, she stood before him, clad only in the form-fitting, long undergarment, with drawers in the same fabric beneath. They reached almost to her knees, edged with a lace ruffle, and beneath them were slim, curved calves and narrow feet.
“I didn’t know you were here,” she said quietly. “I thought you were locking up.”
“I did. The cat was on the back stoop. Did you feed it tonight?”
She nodded. “Just leftover scraps. I think it’s been mousing. Maybe it’ll keep the mice from the house. They’ll be looking for a warm place with the cooler weather,” she said. “But I still take out bits and pieces for the cat, just in case. I can’t bear to see an animal go hungry.”
“I wasn’t sure,” he told her. “So I put out a bit of the pot pie for it.”
“My pa wasn’t much for having animals around the house,” she told him. “He said they belonged in the barn. And I know you don’t let yours in, either. I won’t bring it inside.”
Win shrugged. “I don’t mind, Ellie. It’s your house. You can do whatever pleases you.” He moved from the doorway, approaching her slowly, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked across the floor. “Do I have a clean shirt for tomorrow?”
She nodded and stepped to his dresser. “I folded them and put them in the second drawer. Your small things are in the top. I hope you don’t mind that I switched them around.” He watched as the second drawer was pulled open and her fingers touched his garments with care, drawing forth a blue-striped, madras cloth shirt. “Will this do?”
“That’s fine,” he said, looking over her shoulder at the drawer’s contents. “My clothes have never been so well taken care of.” He dropped his suspenders to hang loosely at his sides, then stripped from his shirt. “I may not tell you, but I do appreciate all you do to make my life easier.”
“That was our bargain, Win,” she said simply, placing the clean shirt atop his dresser. She closed the drawer and, watching him, motioned toward a clothes basket she’d placed in the corner. “From now on you can put your laundry there, if that’s all right.”
His nod was agreeable, and he did as she bid, scarcely able to take his eyes from her. Rosy cheeks drew his attention, and he carefully kept his eyes from sliding below her neck, aware of the embarrassment she felt at her scarcity of clothing. “If you blow out the candle, I’ll finish up in the dark,” he told her, unwilling to strip from his trousers while she watched. Frightening Ellie was the last thing he wanted to do, and one good look at his blatant arousal would likely be enough to send her flying up the stairs.
“All right.” She walked back to the bedside, then bent over the candle, cupping her palm behind the flame to contain her small puff of breath as she extinguished it. As if she awaited further instructions, she stood quietly.
“I usually sleep on this side, if that’s all right with you,” Win said, sliding from his drawers under the cover of darkness, and dropping them beside the bed. Getting beneath the sheet was his first thought. Luring Ellie to join him, there in the comfort of his bed, should be no problem.
Coaxing her from her vest and drawers might be.
She sat down on the edge of the mattress and turned to face him. “I can sleep in my vest, if that’s all right. It’s long enough, I think.”
“Whatever you want is fine with me,” he told her, even as he considered lifting the garment over her head.
She lowered her drawers, then rose to step out of them. Her feet slid beneath the sheet and she rolled in his direction. “Maybe I should braid my hair. It’ll be all tangled by morning.”
“I like it down, Ellie,” he said. His hand scooped it from her neck and brought it forward, allowing the heavy length to cover the front of her vest. “It’s like silk, sliding through my fingers.” The cushion of soft flesh tempted him, and his knuckles brushed across the fullness of her bosom.
“You’re a tempting creature, sweet,” he murmured, bending to press a tender caress against her forehead.
“I don’t mean to be,” she whispered, as though it were a flaw. “My pa said women get in trouble when they flaunt themselves in front of menfolk.”
“You’ve never done that, honey,” he assured her. “You only tempt me because you’re pretty and feminine and, best of all, you’re my wife.”
“I like being married to you,” she admitted quietly, tilting her head a bit as his mouth moved across her temple and down the length of her jaw. “I’ve enjoyed helping in the office, and fixing meals for you.”
“You’re going to enjoy this even more,” he promised, his hands careful as he cupped her breasts, his fingers sliding the soft fabric against the skin beneath. “I’m going to slip this over your head,” he warned her, noting the quick catch in her breathing. Gathering the length of the garment, he slid her out of its folds. He turned back the sheet, exposing her shoulders, smiling as she would have gripped it against herself.
“I’m all naked.” She crossed her arms across the generous curves and he tugged gently at her fingers, lifting them to his mouth, where they relaxed as he brushed countless kisses across her palms.
“How can I tell?” he whispered, a smile apparent in the soft sound. “You don’t need to cover up, Ellie. Your beautiful body is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Indeed, she appeared as a figurehead on a ship, he thought, full-breasted, with flowing locks of hair spread across her pillow and shoulders. “I told you I was too big,” she muttered beneath her breath.
He lifted her hands to his neck. “Why don’t you hold on to me like this?” he murmured, pleased as she clutched her fingers together at his nape. And then he turned his attention to the full curves she’d tried in vain to conceal. His hands caressed gently, his thumbs brushing across the dark crests, causing them to pucker and tighten.
She whimpered, shifting against him, and he whispered coaxing phrases against her lips, his voice husky with desire.
“You’re beautiful, honey.” And she was, he decided. Soft and womanly, modest and unaware of her appeal. He bent then, his mouth open against her flesh, his tongue tasting the sweet flavor of feminine skin, enchanted by her swiftly indrawn breath as he traced the edges of dark, crumpled morsels, touching the peaks with the tip of his tongue.
He suckled gently, and her hips lifted, her legs restless. Soothing her, gentling her to his touch, his hand traveled the length of her body, over the
rounding of her hip, coming to rest against the firm curve of her bottom.
“I didn’t know it would feel so…” Her voice was choked and her fingers slid through his hair, as if she would hold his head in place against her breast. Replete with wonder, her words were a sigh, and she shivered, an involuntary movement.
“You like it?” he asked, blowing against her damp skin, pleased as she laughed softly.
“Uh-huh.” It was a softly breathed response, as though her voice could not form words, and she bent her head a bit to kiss his temple, her breath warm as she brushed her mouth across his forehead, whispering his name.
His palm slid the length of her thigh, across her knee, and then back up her leg, to follow the crease where her hip joined her body. She stiffened, trembling as he cupped the soft curls, brushing gently between her thighs. “Let me, Ellie,” he whispered, exerting the smallest bit of pressure.
Her hesitation was minute, and then he felt the relaxing of muscles as she allowed the intrusion of his hand into her most private place. He was gentle, careful with the tender, feminine folds, seeking out that small bit of pleasure-giving flesh. Ellie jolted as his fingertip touched there, and then she was still, her breathing shallow, as if she waited for some great discovery to take place.
He lifted over her, his mouth seeking hers, teeth and lips taking possession as she opened to him. Her tongue met his, darted back, then forward again, to be welcomed as a worthy opponent in the play of flesh against flesh. Whimpering, she inhaled sharply as his touch became firm, bringing her hips into motion.
Win’s lips curved. His Ellie was a passionate woman, and he yearned to bring her to fulfillment. He listened carefully, gauging her pleasure as he felt the movement, pacing his caress to the agile thrusting of her hips. And then he felt the hot wash of her release as she whimpered into his mouth, her body arching, seeking the firm pressure of his hand.
She curled against him, capturing his fingers and he en folded her, there where her woman’s flesh throbbed in a final pulsing of pleasure.
“Win?” It was a whisper of inquiry, a sigh of unloosed passion, and he was exalted by the knowledge that he had brought her so easily to this place.
His mouth pressed a multitude of kisses against her face, and his words were murmured phrases of admiration for her feminine charms. Smothering himself in the plush beauty of her breasts, he nuzzled them, inhaling the scent of arousal and tasting the salty flavor of her skin. Her hands touched him, fluttering against his shoulders, clutching at his back, and he whispered encouragement as he shifted to lie between her thighs, pleased with her acquiescence to his every coaxing whisper.
Firmly, he lifted one of her knees, and she obliged, sliding it up the length of his leg, then matched it, without prompting, with the other, caging him effectively as he pleasured himself. His breathing harsh, he lifted a bit, allowing his manhood to nudge the soft folds, seeking entrance in the damp sheath.
So carefully she seemed almost unaware of his intent, he pressed into that narrow channel, inhaling sharply as it gloved him, squeezing him as she tightened the muscles that surrounded the firm length of his arousal.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered in surprise, and he groaned against her throat, awed by the simple phrase that told him she had expected pain.
“I’ll never hurt you, Ellie,” he promised, lifting over her on his forearms, looking down at the vulnerable beauty of the woman who welcomed him into her body. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, and a smile brought beauty to the features she had claimed were but ordinary. Now they shone with pleasure, and he bent to kiss the salty drops from existence, his tongue taking them from her temples.
“I’m not really crying,” she murmured. “I’m happy, Win.”
He could only nod in reply, acknowledging her words, since speech was suddenly beyond his capabilities. The beating of his heart was a vibration against the walls of his chest, his whole being consumed by the pure ecstacy of claiming the woman he held. Her hips rose to meet him, and he groaned, bending his head, his body bowed as he plunged within her now, without the tenderness he had promised himself to bestow upon her body.
And yet, she did not flinch from him, only flexed her legs around him, whimpering as she rose to his need, offering herself up to him with a cry of exultation that vibrated from her slender body to the firm, demanding thrusting of his loins. He emptied himself, spasms of pleasure flexing him against her, and his groan was deep, dark with the fervent passion he could not contain.
He held her then, trembling in the aftermath of bliss such as he had never known. Rolling with her to his side, he cradled her against his damp flesh, as if she might escape, should he loosen his hold.
“Ellie…Ellie.” His whisper was an incantation in her ear, and she slipped her arm around his waist, holding him with a yearning strength that refused to allow him escape from her grasp. And indeed, he was not willing to release her, craving the blending of soft curves with his male strength, and the warmth of her arms and legs that tangled with his in an embrace that melded their bodies into a single form.
And then he felt the small movement against his stomach, the nudging of a tiny fist or foot, the reminder that Ellie carried a babe within her. Easing her upward, he peered into her face. “You’re all right? I wasn’t too heavy for you?”
“Oh, no.” She breathed the words, a quick denial of his fear. “You made me feel so good, Win. So warm. I didn’t know I could feel such things.” And her hips moved against his as she spoke, as if the mention of her response somehow ignited a small spark of desire within her.
“You made me forget to be careful,” he admitted. “I should have known better than to be that rough with you.” He clasped her close again, and rocked her in his embrace. “I’m so pleased that you came to me that day.” His lips brushed hers, clinging to the damp surface. “I shouldn’t have let you go back home, Ellie. I should have known better than to let your father take out his temper on you.”
“You couldn’t have known,” she said quietly. “And it’s all right now. He can’t touch me anymore.” She lay quietly, and he felt the movements of the child she carried, softly shifting against her flesh, the minute ripples of her skin telling of each twist and turn of the life within.
“This will be my child,” he told her. “As if I had put it there, Ellie. No one will ever dispute that. No one.”
Chapter Seven
“You had no right to marry the girl. She’s going to have my child.”
The young man’s handsome features were marred by a sullen look that drew his mouth up in a sneer, and the older woman by his side was obviously nudging him along as he laid claim to Ellie.
“I had every right,” Win said mildly, leaning back in his desk chair. Keeping an ear tuned to the soft, subtle noises in the house, he prayed fervently that Ellie would remain in the yard, tending her drying laundry, until he was able to settle this mess. With heavy frost the night before, she might not last long in the cold and this was something he hoped to keep her from hearing.
Tommy Jamison paced to the window and turned to face Win, his hands clasped behind his back. Darting a quick glance at his mother, he began another diatribe. “Ellie doesn’t love you. She’s always loved me. It was a mistake, our moving away when we did. If you weren’t afraid of losing a housekeeper, you’d give me five minutes alone with her. That’s all it would take to convince her to leave here and go back to Philadelphia with me.”
His jaw jutted forward and his eyes narrowed, as if he had been coached in presenting a threatening posture. And then his eyes shifted uneasily. “I had no idea she was carrying my baby.”
Win watched as crimson streaks stained Tommy’s cheeks, proclaiming his words a downright lie. The boy, and he was a boy, Win had already decided, was under his mother’s thumb. He needed to stand on his own two feet and grow up before he went looking for a wife.
It made no matter. Whatever reason the woman had for this jaunt, it was doomed to
failure. With a resigned sigh, Win aimed a direct look in Marie Jamison’s direction. “I don’t know what makes you think you have any claim to Ellie or her child, ma’am. But you’re sadly mistaken in your pursuit.”
Mrs. Jamison inhaled, increasing her ample bosom in generous increments. “There’s no mistake, sir. We’ve come to take the Mitchum girl home with us. She and Tommy can be married after we reach Philadelphia.” She sniffed, holding a handkerchief to her nose, as if the odor of medicine and disinfectant lingering in the office was abhorrent to her. “We have family back East.” She waved a hand in a grand gesture. “Eleanor will be exposed to society.”
Absolutely the epitome of success, Win thought dourly, thinking of his own beginnings. But he smiled, his mouth forming a polite grimace. “I’m sure that’s important to you. However, I’m not certain that Ellie is much interested in such things.” He’d almost…almost lay odds on it, he thought, especially after the past several weeks, during which she’d found her place in his bed on a nightly basis.
And then his attention snapped back to the woman who presented a threat to the young woman he’d taken as his bride.
“I’d rather not get the law involved,” Mrs. Jamison said, leaning forward, her tone denying the claim. “But I will if it becomes necessary.”
Win cast a puzzled look at the woman. “Now, just how do you propose to find any legalities to pursue in this matter? Ellie is my wife, all neat and tidy. We were married almost two months ago, by a minister, and with witnesses. And I have a marriage certificate that will validate my claim.”
He rose from his desk, his gaze level as he turned to Tommy. “You kept company with my wife over a short period of time, didn’t you?”
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