by Lisa Bingham
“He seems to like you well enough,” Ida announced as Ginny gently removed her hair from his grip, then settled him onto her lap. “You should be pleased. He doesn’t usually take to strangers.”
“I love babies,” Ginny stated softly.
Ida watched her closely, then pointed to the food in front of Ginny. “You eat now. Otherwise I’ll take Nathaniel out for his sisters to watch.”
Ginny bit back a smile at the gentle form of blackmail, but she needed little encouragement to eat.
Ida waited until she’d sampled the bread and the preserves, then gave the pots on the stove a quick stir and slammed the lids in place. Glancing about her as if she feared someone could be eavesdropping, she slipped onto the trestle bench opposite.
“Now, tell me the truth, Ginny,” she said conspiratorially, “are they really wearing those skirts back East as big as I’ve been seeing in Godey’s?”
Whatever Ginny had expected her to say, a remark on current fashion had not been it. Sensing she’d found a kindred spirit in the woman seated across from her, Ginny felt her stiffness ease and launched into all of the news and gossip she could think of from “back East,” as Ida called it. Ida listened eagerly, bringing a cup of tea for herself and sharing Ginny’s bread and cheese.
When Orrin and Walter Carrigan stepped into the room some time later it was to find the two of them bent close together, discussing a tidbit of fashion that the women obviously found vastly amusing, while the baby sat contentedly in Ginny’s arms.
“I’d say my Ida’s taken a shine to your new wife.” Walter jabbed Orrin in the ribs. “Guess that means you can keep her.”
An unaccountable sensation of relief settled in Orrin’s body. He hadn’t been aware of the fact, but he’d wanted the Carrigans to like Ginny. And approve.
Ginny looked up from the baby, and her eyes met Orrin’s. The carefree joy he saw in their blue-gray depths took him by surprise. Then, when she saw him watching her, she lowered her lashes.
“Land sakes, I forgot all about supper!” Ida was saying, but Orrin barely heard her. He was staring at the woman who had become his wife.
And wondering just how long it would be before the joy he saw on her face would come from holding his son.
Supper at the Carrigans’ was an example of chaotic organization. Soon after Walter Carrigan’s arrival the kitchen was flooded with children. After the food was carried to the table, Ginny and Orrin were squeezed into a place in the center of one of the benches and grace was said.
Immediately chatter and talk erupted as the children—five girls and six boys, not including the absent Tilly—lunged toward the food, eager to satisfy their stomachs after a hard day of school and chores.
Ginny and Orrin soon found their plates filled. Ida’s admonition for the children to clean their dishes seemed to include them as well.
Even though she’d eaten with Ida only a short time before, Ginny’s appetite returned full force when she sampled the thick stew, heavy with gravy, chunks of meat, and dumplings. There was also a barley casserole, slices of honey-wheat bread, fried potatoes, and a dried-cherry cobbler.
Room at the table was cramped at best. Ginny barely had the necessary space to bring her fork to her lips. With each motion she became more and more aware that she was pressed tightly against Orrin’s side.
Orrin, too, became conscious of their proximity. His movements were slow and deliberate, and he stared down at his plate as if it held the secrets of the ages.
See to the loving the first night, Ginny.
But the first night had already passed. And she wasn’t ready for him to touch her. Not yet.
Once the meal ended Ida leaned low to say something to one of the older girls, Manda Sue. Undeniably a secret password had been uttered, because Manda Sue and two of her sisters rose and disappeared from the room.
Watching their retreat, Ginny reached to help clear the table, but Ida slapped her away. “Don’t you be lifting a finger to help, Ginny Ghant. Tonight you’re a special guest in my home.” Her eyes twinkled wickedly. “Next time you can help.” She shot a glance at Orrin, then grinned in secret delight. “I expect after all your traveling you and Orrin would like to turn in.” Her brows wiggled suggestively. “No doubt you’re awful tired. Awful tired indeed.”
“No.”
“No!”
Orrin and Ginny spoke at once, but Ida merely shook her head and chuckled. “Of course you are.” She took Ginny’s elbow and pulled her firmly to her feet. “Orrin, if you’ll be good enough to give Ginny a minute to … freshen up, then you can join your bride in Manda Sue, Tilly, and Effie’s room. You know which one it is. Straight through the parlor in the new addition.”
Knowing there would be no dissuading Ida from her course of action, Ginny lifted her skirts and stepped over the trestle bench. A warmth flooded her cheeks when her hip bumped intimately against Orrin’s shoulder in the process.
Ida led her through the front hall to a simple parlor, then to another door on the opposite side. As they passed across the threshold the girls brushed past them, holding a bundle of nightclothes. The curious stares they leveled in Ginny’s direction caused her to blush even more. Surely those girls—young girls—couldn’t be thinking that she … that Orrin … that they…
Oh, dear.
“Ida, I don’t want to put anyone out. I’d be more than happy to sleep on a pallet with your daughters.”
“Nonsense. There’ll be pallets and daughters aplenty soon enough. You and Orrin just”—once again the gleeful light entered her snapping brown eyes—“just do whatever comes naturally.”
Snickering to herself, Ida ushered Ginny into the simple room with a single iron bedstead, a bureau with a wash set, a highboy with a polished mirror, and a line of wooden pegs already jumbled with the girls’ clothing.
“I sent Luke out to the wagon for your things earlier. The carpetbags are on the bed. There’s clean water on the bureau and a comb in the highboy if you want it, plus fresh face cloths and such. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ginny answered, somewhat daunted by the thought of what Ida expected to happen that night.
Ida cupped Ginny’s cheek, forcing her thoughts away from their less-than-comforting path.
“Don’t you worry none, you hear? Orrin might be gruff and grumpy at times, but there’s a streak of tenderness in him like a vein of gold. You could do a lot worse.”
Ginny fought an unconscious shiver, knowing she had already escaped what Ida would consider to be worse.
“Is it the lovin’ that scares you?” Ida asked gently. “Because if it is, don’t you worry ’bout it. It can be nice. Real nice. Just give it time.”
Ginny eyed the older woman doubtfully, but judging from the fact that Ida had evidence in the form of a dozen children, Ginny had no room to argue.
Ida reached out to fold Ginny close to her full bosom, rocking her slightly until Ginny relaxed in her embrace and absorbed the comforting smells of cooking and soap that clung to the older woman’s clothing.
After several minutes Ginny pulled back in embarrassment. She didn’t normally show her fears. Especially not in front of a stranger. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, so don’t be apologizing.” Ida patted her back with a work-roughened hand. “All of us need a good shoulder to lean on once in a while, and heaven only knows mine’s broad enough for the both of us.”
“You’re very kind.”
“Nonsense,” she protested, but Ginny knew the comment had pleased Ida immensely.
The older woman gave Ginny an approving squeeze. “I’m so glad you’ve come to Eden, Ginny Parker Ghant. You’ll do just fine here. Just fine.”
Chapter 6
Ginny slipped between the sheets and waited. It had only been minutes since Ida had helped her comb and braid her hair, wash her face and hands, dress in a fresh nightgown, and climb into bed. After gathering all of Ginny’s muddy cl
othing, Ida had whispered something about sponging them clean for the next morning and then disappeared.
Now, lying silently in the semidarkness, Ginny could hear the faint stirrings of the other Carrigans somewhere on the opposite side of the house as they began to prepare for bed themselves. Evidently the family was used to an early night. In a few minutes the house would be totally quiet, and everyone would sleep.
Not everyone…
Hearing the betraying creak of someone crossing through the parlor, Ginny rolled to her side and prayed that Orrin would believe she had already fallen asleep.
The door squeaked open, and she flinched as if the sound had been a rifle shot. Apparently Orrin didn’t see, because she could hear Ida saying, “Best give me those clothes so I can get ’em washed and dry before morning.”
“Ida, you don’t have to launder my clothes.”
“Yes I do, Orrin Ghant. It was me who made you stay an extra day, and judging by the look of your clothes now, you’ve been in ’em too many days already. Now hand ’em over, or I’ll come in and get ’em myself once you fall asleep.”
“Ida—”
“And if you’re sleepin’ in ’em, I’ll still come and get ’em myself.”
“Damn it, Ida.”
Ginny heard the whine of the door as it closed and dared to open one eye, then two. Since the highboy had been pushed into the narrow floor space on her side of the bed, Ginny was able to see Orrin’s reflection.
She thought she would betray her wakefulness somehow, but Orrin didn’t appear to be paying her any attention at all as he sat on the far end of the bed. His soft grunt was followed by the thump of one boot, then another. A set of jounces and rustling sounds came, signaling to Ginny that he’d removed his socks as well.
When the pressure on the end of the bed lifted she dared to look at his reflection again. Once again she was confronted by the sight of Orrin’s lithe body.
“Orrin, you hurry up now!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Orrin retorted wryly. In one quick movement he pulled his woolen shirt over the top of his head, then the flannel shirt beneath that.
Orrin had worn his union suit the night before, but the room had been so dark, she hadn’t seen the way the worn fabric clung to the firm width of his shoulders and the strong planes of his back.
Orrin lifted his arms and stretched, pulling the cloth even tighter against his body, revealing the way his muscles bunched and rippled. Obviously he spent a good deal of time lifting and toting in his business, because there was a strength to his torso that Ginny had never seen in a man back East. Never.
Grunting softly, Orrin dropped his arms and tossed the discarded clothing on the side of the bed. Dipping his head, he reached to unbutton his trousers.
Orrin shucked his pants. Then, clad in nothing more than a baggy, saggy old pair of red long johns, he scooped the muddy clothing from the bed and, standing behind the door, handed it all over to Ida. The movements caused the back trap of his underwear to part ever so slightly.
She shouldn’t be looking at a man like this, she thought. Not after all that had happened.
But she couldn’t turn away. Not when she was staring right at the firm curves of his buttocks.
“Now give me your underwear, Orrin.”
“Ida, I will not!” Orrin’s spine straightened in affronted dignity.
“There’s not much sense washing the outer unless I wash the inner, too. Pass ’em over.”
“Ida,” Orrin growled, leaning closer to the door. “You aren’t my wife or my mother.”
“No, but I keep my promises. If you don’t give ’em to me now, I’ll come in there and get ’em.”
“Ida—”
“Right now, Orrin.”
Not daring to disbelieve her threat, Orrin began to unbutton his union suit, his jerking motions clearly betraying his irritation at the older woman’s demands.
Ginny waited, her mouth growing slightly dry. She’d never seen a naked man before. Not even Billy.
Orrin shrugged free from the shoulders of his long johns, and Ginny took in the muscled span of his shoulders, the strength of his arms, the beguiling indentation of his spine. The skin was taut and just a shade lighter than that of his face and arms.
“Orrin,” Ida warned.
“Just hold your teeth, Ida.”
Ginny stared as he slid his hands under the fabric of his union suit and pushed the woolen underwear down to his knees. Just as she’d seen before, Orrin’s buttocks were firm and round. But now she could also see that his thighs were long and broadly muscled, well-shaped and dusted with light hair.
Stepping free of the long johns, Orrin moved behind the shield of the door and passed them out. Ginny watched, eyes wide, never knowing that the fluid grace of a man’s body could be so … unnerving.
“Here, Ida.”
“Thank you kindly.” There was a pause before she added, “And you two have a nice night, you hear?”
Ginny could have withered in embarrassment. Did that woman have to be so … so…
The splash of water signaled to Ginny that Orrin was taking advantage of the wash set, but she kept her eyes averted and willed her body to maintain its facade of sleep.
Her mind could not be controlled so easily, and it kept flashing thoughts and images that were better left alone. Would the water dapple the broad strength of his shoulders? Would it follow the contours of his back? Perhaps even pool in the hollow of his spine?
Orrin extinguished the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
Ginny’s eyes flew open, but without light there was nothing to see. Straining to hear something, anything, that would tell her what Orrin was doing, she finally heard the soft pad of his feet moving toward the bed.
The covers shifted, the mattress tilted. Then Orrin Ghant gingerly stretched out beside her.
Ginny became conscious of several things almost at once. The bed was much smaller than the one in the hotel. Orrin’s hip and arm were warm and still slightly damp as they pressed against the curve of her back.
For the longest time silence cloaked the room like a heavy woolen blanket, becoming all thick and hot, but slightly uncomfortable and scratchy to the nerves.
Ginny waited, praying that he would think she was asleep. Yet at the same time she almost dreaded he would. Somehow they would have to make love. And Ginny knew that things would be better for them both if it happened soon.
“You asleep?”
She started at Orrin’s query, betraying herself even before she had a chance to speak. Nevertheless, she still said no. A flashing image of her own bare skin brushing against his raced through her head, but she firmly thrust it away.
“Me either,” he answered.
Despite herself, Ginny felt her lips twitch. There’d been no doubt in her mind that he hadn’t been asleep.
“Ginny?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Ida thinks we’re going to—”
“I know.” Her voice emerged thick and husky.
Orrin cleared his throat before continuing. “But I know you need some time.”
“I … suppose.”
She could feel the heat of his skin, the tension in his body.
“Still, we are married,” she said, then she could have kicked herself for speaking aloud.
“Yes. Yes, we are.”
See to the loving the first night, Ginny.
But he’d left her to sleep in the barn the first night.
“Orrin?”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps it would be best…”
“Yes?”
“If we did … do it…”
“Ginny?”
“Tonight.”
Hardly able to believe what she’d suggested, Ginny could only hope he wouldn’t think her too wanton.
“You’re sure?”
She could say no. She realized that he was giving her the opportunity to withdraw her hasty words.
But marr
iage meant a lifetime.
Even marriage to a stranger.
“Ginny?”
“Mmm?” She yanked her thoughts back.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, I heard.”
“Do you want me to go out to the barn and sleep?”
If he stayed, he would touch her. As a husband touched a wife.
She owed him that much at least.
Ginny finally shook her head. Then, realizing he couldn’t see her, she forced the word no from her parched throat. “Stay.”
At her soft-spoken answer Orrin felt a slow heat begin to run through his veins. He hadn’t expected her to agree. He thought she would send him out to sleep with the animals. Jesse had never asked for his touch.
But Ginny Parker—Ginny Parker Ghant—had agreed. She’d agreed.
A hush once again settled in the room, disturbed by nothing more than the skeletal branches of the trees outside tapping against the windowpane. Yet, inside that tiny bedroom the quiet of the night lay fraught with the undercurrents of an approaching lightning storm.
Finally Orrin turned on his side. He reached out to touch Ginny’s shoulder. She started at first, then grew still. His grip tightened reassuringly, then he slid his palm down her arm until his fingers touched her own.
Although Ginny had agreed to their lovemaking, Orrin sensed her fear and nervousness. Bending toward her, he placed a soft kiss in the hollow of her neck.
The skin beneath his lips was velvety soft, velvety smooth. She smelled of soap and some elusive summer-time fragrance.
Roses and cloves.
Orrin could feel his restraint beginning to splinter. It had been so long since he’d felt a woman this close to him. It had been so long since he’d touched soft feminine curves or felt the caress of silky hair against his skin.
Trying to regain some hold on his own reactions, Orrin wrapped his arm around her waist.
He’d meant to stop for a moment; he’d meant to slow things down before they got out of control. But Ginny misinterpreted his actions and shifted ever so slightly. Her buttocks bumped him.
Unable to stop himself, he dragged her close, pressing her into the part of him that had been hungry for a woman for so long.
