Eden Creek

by Lisa Bingham

  A low moan of pleasure bled from his lips as he felt himself responding to her nearness. He’d hold her this way for just a little while, he told himself. Then he’d back away and try to gather his control.

  Seemingly of their own volition his fingers moved from her ribs to her stomach, grazing her ever so lightly before slipping to her thigh. He felt nothing but silk and lace and woman.

  Scrunching the light fabric of her gown, he moved the hem inch by agonizing inch up her body. Once again her hips bumped his own. Growing suddenly impatient for the soft texture of her legs against his thighs, he laid one calf over the top of her bare knee.

  Just one minute.

  Filled with heat and sensation, light and shadow, Orrin felt the last vestiges of his patience rush away.

  But he had to wait. He had to!

  He impatiently tugged the nightgown to her waist and, letting go of her for only a moment, pressed Ginny onto her back.

  She gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. Then her fingers dug into his hips, and she was pulling him closer.

  “Now,” she whispered.

  “No, you’re not ready.”

  “Now.”

  Unable to think clearly, Orrin settled between her thighs and entered her.

  She winced, her hands leaving his hips and digging into the ticking beneath her, and though Orrin knew she hadn’t been prepared for him, he couldn’t stop. He felt the thundering sensations coming to a boil too soon, too fast. Closing his lashes and gritting his teeth, he tried to hold back, tried to delay his own reaction.

  Ginny felt the warmth spewing into her, and she turned her head sideways into the pillow. Long moments later Orrin finally lifted his weight away.

  “I’m sorry. It has been so long.” He brushed the chestnut hair away from her face. When she didn’t speak, didn’t move, he finally rolled away and lay at her side.

  Ginny didn’t know why he was apologizing. She didn’t know anything but the throbbing that ached between her legs.

  Just as it had with Billy.

  Drawing her knees together, she pushed her nightgown over her hips and turned onto her side.

  “Good night, Orrin,” she muttered.

  Orrin felt her move away from him, more in mind than in body, and he cursed himself for not showing more tenderness toward his new bride. She hadn’t been ready for him, yet he hadn’t taken the time…

  “Ginny,” he finally murmured, reaching out to stroke her hair. “Ginny, don’t be frightened of loving. Or of me. It doesn’t have to be painful, or a chore. I hurt you because we went too fast I should have been more careful of you. Especially with it being your first time and all.”

  A chill settled into Ginny’s limbs at Orrin’s words.

  After a few moments Orrin tentatively touched her arm. “Good night, Ginny.” He turned his back to her and pulled the covers about his shoulders.

  Long minutes later, Ginny heard his soft snore.

  He didn’t know.

  She began to tremble. Fearing she would awaken him, Ginny swung her feet over the side of the bed and took her robe from the seat of the rocker. Walking silently into the parlor, she went to stare blindly out the window.

  He didn’t know.

  Ginny’s arms hugged her torso, and she damned Ruby Ghant for lying to her, and to Orrin as well. Though time might allow Ginny to forgive the exaggerations about Eden and Orrin’s occupation, how could she ever forgive the woman for this?

  Ginny’s eyes opened, and she looked about the room in sudden agitation. A weak wash of moonlight fell through the window, coating the room in a silvery haze, but she searched the shadows nonetheless. Finally she noticed that the only mirror in the room was the cracked oval affair over the piano.

  Ginny stared at it in indecision, then lifted the mirror from the wall and propped it against the settee. The angle of the glass mockingly distorted her image, making her head appear small and her hips…

  She gripped the folds of her wrapper and nightgown, pulling the fabric tightly against her abdomen.

  How long? she wondered.

  How long until Orrin Ghant knew she carried another man’s child?

  Chapter 7

  Ginny woke to a weak stream of sunshine peeking through the simple muslin curtains hung in front of the bedroom’s only window. Somewhere, far away, she heard a baby’s cries.

  She stared at the blue-gray wash of light and felt disoriented and confused. Then, bit by bit, she became conscious of the ache of her body and the warmth seeping into her back. The warmth of another person.

  From behind she felt Orrin shift, and she thought he’d discovered she had awakened. Instead he simply laid a callused hand on her shoulder. Then, with a heavy sigh, he twisted away from her and moved to the door.

  Ginny realized that it had been the sound of a soft tapping that had awakened her in the first place. Looking up at the mirror, she was able to see the way Orrin stood behind the shield of the wall, opened the portal, and peered around the edge. After a word to the person on the opposite side, he took a bundle of clothing and closed the door again.

  Ginny waited tensely as he set the bundle on the dresser. The morning sun caressed the broad strength of his shoulders and defined the strong curve of his spine, the slight dip of his back, the firm swell of his buttocks.

  In the weak light of dawn she decided her husband was a handsome man. Some might even say beautiful. He had the hips and legs of a classic statue. Athletic. Strong.

  Masculine.

  “How did you sleep?”

  Ginny’s eyes lifted. He’d obviously been watching her over his shoulder and had caught her scrutiny in the mirror.

  “Fine,” she mumbled.

  Orrin took his freshly laundered union suit from the pile of clothing and stepped into the bottoms.

  Ginny averted her gaze, not daring to glance his way until she felt the shifting of the bed. Orrin bent to press a soft kiss on her temple. “I don’t mind if you look.”

  A garbled moan of embarrassment bubbled from her lips.

  But his touch remained gentle, his thumb tracing a soft circle. “I wish we could stay longer this morning.”

  “No! No, that’s fine. I know you have to get back.”

  He appeared to want to say more. But Ginny knew he would ask something personal, something … intimate about the previous night, so she quickly added, “If you’ll leave, I’ll be dressed as soon as I can.”

  Judging by his soft sigh, he had been about to speak. But he didn’t push. Instead he drew away from her, pulled on the rest of his clothing, and slipped outside.

  As soon as he’d gone Ginny spun onto her back.

  Sweet heaven above. How could she blurt out the truth now? If she’d known about Ruby’s lies before the marriage ceremony, she could have prevented this muddle from the first.

  But how could she tell her husband of two days that she was already pregnant?

  “Mama, you didn’t prepare me for this,” she said, pulling the pillow over her face and blocking out the light.

  But how could her mother have foreseen what would happen? Especially when Ginny herself couldn’t deny that having the perfect reason to escape from Orrin Ghant, she didn’t want to go.

  Resolutely she pushed her predicament aside. She wouldn’t think about it. The solution would come to her soon enough. For now she would take things as they came and bide her time.

  Then, when she had to, she would find a way to tell Orrin Ghant the truth.

  Orrin’s wagon rolled out of the Carrigans’ yard less than an hour later, with Orrin and Ginny seated side by side at its helm.

  For some time nothing disturbed the morning quiet but the rumble and creak of the wagon. Ginny sat stiffly on the wagon bench, her fingers clasping the box in her lap, which held a spice cake and a set of knitted dishcloths that had been a wedding gift from Ida and her family.

  But it wasn’t the cake that had her attention. She could think of little else than the man beside her.
Each move he’d made, each uncharacteristic courtesy he’d extended that morning, had only underscored what had happened between them the night before.

  “How do you feel?”

  Ginny flinched when the deep sound of Orrin’s voice broke the silence. She gathered her thoughts back into line, a scalding heat flooding her cheeks.

  “Fine.”

  She sensed that he wanted to say more, ask more, but Orrin noted her blush and allowed the silence to cloak them again.

  Soon the daylight bathed the area in liquid gold, and for a few brief moments the winter-brown valley was beautiful.

  Several miles later Orrin pulled on the reins, bringing the wagon to a stop. Immediately Ginny glanced around her but saw no home of any kind.

  When she looked at him questioningly he stated, “We’re almost there.” He smiled at her, then dug his fingers into the pocket of his flannel shirt. “This is for you.” The morning sun glinted dully off a slender gold band.

  Her wedding ring.

  Ginny couldn’t take it. There was something so binding about being given a proper ring. More binding than the intimacies that had occurred between them the night before. She couldn’t help thinking that by taking the band she would deepen the extent of her lies.

  “Take it,” he urged gently.

  She drew the foil macassar strip free, then reached to take the gold band.

  But it was too big.

  “Damn.” Orrin frowned at the slender girth of her fingers.

  “I can tie a piece of string around it.”

  “No.” He took the ring from her and put it back into his pocket. “It has to fit right. I don’t want it falling off.”

  The quiet of the morning nestled between them before Orrin spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. How could you have possibly guessed the size of my hand?” She looked pointedly at the band still circling Orrin’s finger.

  He huffed in indignation, pulling at his wedding ring until it became apparent that it wouldn’t pass over his knuckle. “I was married young, and my joints grew. Believe me, if I could have taken it off, I would have done so years ago.”

  His words brought a glow into her bosom. For the first time she didn’t feel as if the ghost of his first wife stood between them.

  “I see.” Though her words were neutral, there was no disguising her latent pleasure.

  “I’ll see if they can’t fix it when I head through Salt Lake in a few months.” He took her hand and grinned. “After all, we don’t want anyone mistaking you for a free woman.”

  “No,” she replied, her voice a little breathless from his casual grip. How was it possible that each time he touched her, her reaction to him increased? Even after months of wooing, Billy had never managed to make her heart thump so easily.

  Orrin leaned back against the wagon seat, obviously content to sit for a minute and talk. “Ruby told me you were a good housekeeper and a fine cook. That you’d had quite a bit of experience in Missouri.”

  Ginny regarded him in surprise. Evidently Ruby had lied a good deal more than Ginny had ever imagined.

  “She also said you were good with children. That you’d helped with neighbors off and on—even taught school a bit.”

  “She did?” Ginny asked, her voice emerging weakly. What else had Ruby told him? The closest Ginny had been to caring for a child was feeding her mother’s twelve-year-old basset hound.

  “I have to be honest and admit it will be nice having a woman around the house again. I missed coming in from the fields to a hot meal, and the sound of singing from the garden. And the chickens just don’t lay as well for a man.”

  Ginny swallowed a flash of panic. She’d never expected servants or a life of ease, but she hadn’t thought much beyond making curtains, beating rugs, and washing dishes. She certainly hadn’t counted on gardening. Or chickens.

  “I’m beholden to you for coming all this way to marry a man like me.”

  A man like him?

  Had Ruby lied to her as well? Was there something about Orrin that she hadn’t been told? Some deep dark secret?

  He must have seen a trace of her panic, because he released her, and his callused fingers slipped into the dark waves of her hair. Gently he tipped her head up and bent toward her.

  She knew he was going to kiss her, and she knew she wouldn’t stop him. They were married. He had a right to touch her.

  And, heaven help her, she wanted his kiss.

  Orrin’s lips rubbed against her own, their texture slightly rough and moist, and Ginny felt an immediate response deep within her. The emotion scared her even as it filled her with an unconscious longing.

  As if sensing a portion of her fear, Orrin lifted his head. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  “You look like I’m about to poleax you.”

  “No.”

  He cupped her cheek, his eyes closing so that the wheat-brown thickness of his lashes pooled against his skin. But he didn’t kiss her lips, not right away. Instead he trailed his mouth across her chin, her cheek, then followed the curve of her jaw to the hollow beneath her ear.

  A sound of pleasure escaped her lips. Was this what a kiss was meant to do to a woman? Or were her reactions merely the residue of last night’s closeness?

  “I want to teach you how nice this can be. I don’t want you to be afraid that I’ll hurt you again like I did last night.”

  His mouth moved over hers, a little more insistently this time. When she touched his chest he smiled, then increased the pressure of the kiss. Their movements were tentative and unsure. Then a slow-burning fire began to build. Orrin’s broad hand curled around the back of her neck, drawing her closer still.

  She folded her arms around his shoulders, clinging to the strength she found in his embrace—and the pleasure! Never, in all her born days, had she dreamed a man could bring her such a feeling.

  When he drew back, they were both flushed and a little breathless.

  “Don’t ever leave me, Ginny,” he warned. A brief flicker of remembered pain flared in his eyes.

  “No. I won’t go away. I won’t ever go away.” The words seemed to allay his suspicions, but they brought a heaviness to Ginny’s breast. She would stay. She would make a real marriage with this man, and a happy home.

  But she knew that someday she would have to pay the price for Ruby’s silence.

  The ride to Orrin’s farm from that point took little less than an hour. As they traveled, Ginny looked around her in awe, noting the mountain range that surrounded the narrow valley on all sides. Used to the gentle beauty of Missouri and the crowded cities of Europe, she found that something about this fearsome country made her feel small by comparison. Huge pine trees stretched high above her, their trunks old and weathered, their shapes so tall and majestic that Ginny secretly wondered if they’d been planted by God himself at the beginning of time.

  Eden.

  Perhaps Ruby’s lies had not extended this far. This part of the world basked in its own rugged indifference, apparently unimpressed by man’s puny efforts at civilization. And there was a stark beauty to her surroundings, one that she imagined would soon be gilded by the gentle touch of spring.

  Eagerly Ginny waited for her first glimpse of Orrin’s home. According to Ruby, it was a magical place with green pastures dotted with fat cows and woolly lambs. The house itself stood at the base of a gentle valley. Ruby had described it so many times that Ginny could almost see its wraparound porch, flower boxes, and multipaned casements. Inside there was a front parlor, four bedrooms, a kitchen, a pantry, and a day room. The older woman had warned Ginny that the house needed a woman’s touch, that her nephew hadn’t had the time for such niceties as curtains and bed covers and such—and after two days in his company Ginny could very well imagine why. But she could tackle those tasks. Especially since she would have Orrin’s daughters to help her. The girls were bordering on adolescence, and no doubt they were already ad
ept at sewing, but Ginny could teach them the finer arts of needlework and lacemaking if they hadn’t already learned.

  The team pricked up their ears and tossed their heads, sensing that home was not too far away, and Ginny knew that they had to be near. Her lips moved in silent prayer: Please, please, let it be just as Ruby described. Let it have a parlor and a sitting room and a huge kitchen. And let Orrin’s teenage daughters be well-mannered and understanding of my shortcomings.

  The horses tugged against the traces, pulling the heavy wagon to the top of a sharp rise. The valley fell away, revealing a scooped bowl of land crisscrossed with once-plowed patches now scattered with dirty snowdrifts and winter-dead stubble. Outbuildings dotted the center of the bowl, and by squinting Ginny could pick out the barn with its rough-hewn corral, the squat privy…

  And the house.

  Ginny tried to keep the disappointment from flooding through her. No palace awaited her, just a simple clap-board affair.

  She looked up to find Orrin watching her, obviously trying to gauge her reaction. Ginny kept her face carefully blank.

  “This is your home now, Ginny Ghant.”

  Though the prospect was a little daunting, she saw his obvious pride and stared back down the valley, trying to muster a little more enthusiasm. Indeed, upon closer inspection she could see that although the structures were small, they were well cared for. Perhaps with a bit of whitewash…

  “Those are my fields,” Orrin said, showing her with a sweeping motion the extent of his farm. “Like I told you before, I plant alfalfa, oats, some wheat.” He pointed upward. “The growing season is short here due to the mountains, but we’ve plenty of water, even in the heat of the summer.”

  He propped his feet on the edge of the wagon box and let the reins dangle between his knees, obviously content to wait before finishing the last leg of their journey.

  “Those cattle are mine.” Ginny could see a few indistinct specks in the distance. “And I’ve got a spare team of horses I use for plowing and freighting.”

  He continued to show her fields, boundaries, and landmarks. Nodding toward the house, he gave her permission to fix it up any way she pleased, smiling in such a way that she knew he had just extended a special favor.