“Hang on to me.”
“I will.” For the rest of my life.
The house was cold when they entered and Anne shivered despite the winter jacket she wore. The wedding gown, borrowed from one of Ingrid’s friends, was beautiful, but the delicate satin and lace didn’t lend much warmth. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
Erik lit the coal-oil lantern, then loaded wood against the banked embers in the stove. “The house will warm up soon.” He brought a blanket from the other room and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Maybe this will help.”
“Thank you.” She touched his face, looking deeply into his eyes and trying to convey all she felt in her heart. “You’re so kind. I’m a very lucky bride.”
He blinked, surprise evident in his eyes. Then he smiled. “I have something for you.”
He opened a cupboard and pulled out a small box from between the cups and saucers. He handed it to her, watching her face as if gauging her reaction.
“Open it.”
She lifted the lid of the small jeweler’s box. Inside, lying on a bed of cotton batting, a delicate gold chain glittered in the light of the lantern. Anne took it out of the box and held it up to the light. A small heart-shaped locket hung from the chain.
“It belonged to my grandmother,” Erik said. “She brought it with her from Norway. My grandfather gave it to her on their wedding day. If you open the locket, you’ll see their initials engraved inside.”
Anne tripped the tiny catch and the locket split in two, revealing elaborately scrolled engraving.
“S and H,” Anne read. “There’s something written on the bottom, but I can’t make it out.”
“It’s in Norwegian. It gives the date of their marriage, August 1, 1890, and then below that it says, ‘Forever and always.’ My grandmother was a remarkable woman. She always treated me as if I was special.” He paused, staring at the chain. “If you don’t like it, I can get you something else as a wedding gift.”
“I don’t want anything else. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
That he would give her something of his grandmother’s that meant so much to him humbled her even as it made her heart soar. She loved Erik more with each passing moment.
She handed him the chain. “Can you put it on for me?”
She turned around, lifting her hair out of the way. Erik placed the locket around her neck. She felt his fingers lingering against the tender skin of her nape and trembled when he placed a gentle kiss there. Carefully, he turned her to face him.
“Will you come upstairs with me?”
She knew what he was asking. Would she take that final step in becoming his wife? Would she lie with him, make love with him?
She wanted to be with Erik more than anything in the world. She wanted to sleep with him every night for the rest of their lives.
With trembling fingers, she reached for his hand. It felt warm and solid against hers, and in that moment she knew everything would be all right.
“Yes, I’ll come upstairs with you.”
****
Erik carried the lantern up the stairs as Anne followed him. The lantern cast a surreal glow against the stairwell walls, perfectly reflecting how he felt. He couldn’t believe Anne was here with him, that she was his wife, and that soon they’d be making love on his old cast iron bed. How would she react when she saw the scars on his leg? She was a nurse and had probably seen much worse. But he wasn’t perfect, and Anders had been. Again he wondered if they had slept together.
No, he wouldn’t think about it. Not tonight. He forced the thought of the two of them in bed together from his mind. For tonight, she was his. Only his.
He placed the lantern on his dresser and turned to Anne. “I’m sorry it’s so cold in here. It shouldn’t take long for the woodstove to warm things up. Maybe I should start the heater in the parlor.”
Anne stopped him with a hand on his arm as he took a step toward the door. “No, don’t go. Maybe…maybe if you hold me, I’ll feel warmer.”
He drew her into his arms. “Is that better?”
She rested her head against his chest, the top of her head reaching just below his chin. They fit perfectly together, like the two halves of the locket she wore around her neck.
“Much better. But my feet are frozen.”
Erik looked down at her feet, bare except for her stockings. “We’ll soon fix that.”
He led her to the bed and made her sit on the edge. Kneeling on his good leg, he took both her feet into his hands and gently massaged.
“That’s lovely,” she said, smiling. “It reminds me of when you warmed my feet after I fell into the dugout.”
“Don’t remind me. You could have died that night.”
“But I didn’t. You saved me. My knight in shining armor.”
“I’m no knight, and I’m certainly no hero.”
“You are to me.”
Erik looked up into her face, his heart racing. Did she really feel that way? The lantern light partially lit her soft smile. She reached out her hand and touched his face.
“Would you unbutton my dress? I can’t reach them on my own.”
He sat next to her and she turned her back to him, once more moving her hair out of the way. The tiny fabric-covered buttons ran down her back from her neck to below her waist. He started at the top, his fingers clumsy as they worked the delicate buttons. As the satin of her dress parted, the creamy skin of Anne’s back was gradually revealed. His fingers brushed against her smooth flesh. That tiny touch aroused him more than anything he could ever imagine.
Finally the buttons were all undone. Erik pushed the fabric from her shoulders, letting his hands slide down her arms. Warm butter-soft skin flowed against his calloused fingers.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
She rose then and, turning to face him, pulled her arms from the long sleeves of the dress, allowing it to glide over her slim hips and pool at her feet. Beneath, she wore a white slip trimmed with lace. Erik watched in fascination as she pushed the thin straps of the slip from her shoulders and let it too fall to the floor. She stood in front of him wearing nothing but a brassiere and panties, a garter belt holding up her stockings. Erik stared at her bare upper thighs, at the point where the stockings ended. He’d never seen skin so beautiful.
And he’d never been more aroused.
She opened each snap of the garter belt, then sat next to him on the bed once more. Raising her leg, she slowly rolled the stocking down to her ankle. She repeated the movement on the other leg. Despite the chill in the room, sweat rolled down Erik’s back. When she reached behind her to undo her brassiere, he could stand it no longer.
“Let me.”
She lowered her arms, her gaze level with his. He reached behind her and with one quick movement unhooked the brassiere. He pulled it from her, releasing her beautiful breasts. They were full and round, the dusky nipples puckered to hard points, whether from the cold or from desire, he wasn’t sure. He ached to touch them. Anne read his mind. She took his hand and placed it over her left breast.
Her breath hitched at his touch. He tested the weight of her breast in his hand. It fit perfectly, the skin so delicate beneath his work-roughened hands he was afraid of hurting her. Then she shivered, and Erik jolted back to earth, realizing she was all but naked in a frigid room. He pulled back the blankets and gently pushed her onto her back, covering her with the quilt.
“I wouldn’t want my wife to get pneumonia on our wedding night.”
She chuckled. “No, that wouldn’t do at all. Aren’t you going to undress?”
He hesitated, then made a move to turn off the lantern. She didn’t need to see the ugliness of his scars. Not tonight.
“No, please, leave it on. I want to see you,” she said.
“Anne—”
“I know you have scars. It doesn’t matter. I just want to see my husband. Please.”
He could deny her nothing. Slowly he removed his suit jacket and unbutton
ed his shirt, his eyes fixed on hers. She watched his every movement, not speaking until he’d removed all his clothing and stood naked in front of her, his erection hard and impatient.
“You’re beautiful,” she said simply.
She reached out her hand to him, and he grasped it. Sliding into the bed next to her, he let her put her arms around him, her warmth enveloping him. He kissed her, wanting to take it slowly, wanting to make her pleasure last. But from the moment her lips touched his, he knew slow was not an option. She moaned and arched her back as he pushed her panties down her hips, exposing every inch of her skin to his touch. Reverently, Erik glided his hands over her back, her thighs, her buttocks, finally coming to a stop at the thatch of hair between her legs.
“I want to touch you,” he said, holding her gaze in the dim light. “Will you let me?”
“Yes,” she breathed on an urgent whisper. “Yes, please.”
He parted her thighs and gently began to stroke the soft folds. Anne closed her eyes and made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat. When he inserted his finger deep inside her, her eyes flew open.
“Erik! Oh, God!”
She convulsed around his finger, tremors racing through her body. He captured her lips for a deep kiss, glad he was able to bring her this pleasure. But now his body ached for its own release.
He covered her body with his, his erection poised at the opening to her womb. With great care, he pushed gradually inside her, watching her eyes for any sign of discomfort. At last he felt her moist heat surrounding him. Erik paused for a moment, willing his release to wait, and savoring this magical joining of his body to Anne’s.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“No, oh, God, no.” She arched her back and lifted her hips. “Please, don’t stop.”
He needed no further encouragement. Though pain shot through his leg, he pushed deep inside her. He held back, trying to take it slowly and gently for her. But Anne would have none of it.
“Hurry, darling. Please!”
All thought of restraint fled, and he pushed into her hard and fast. Anne met his every thrust. Erik felt his climax building, and with one final thrust he spilled his seed inside her. For long moments they clung to each other, until the pain in his leg forced him to withdraw from her and change positions.
“Are you all right? Your leg—”
“My leg is fine.” He didn’t want his injury to be all she thought of in their bedroom.
“That’s good,” she said with a sleepy smile. “Erik, that was so incredible. I never imagined it could be like that between us.”
“Neither did I.”
He’d never experienced such joy, such connection with a woman. But then he’d never been in love like this before.
She touched his face and smiled, her eyes half closed. “Good night, Erik. Sleep well.”
“Good night.”
She rolled onto her side. He pulled her against him, her soft bottom resting against his flaccid penis. When he kissed her cheek, she didn’t awaken, even when he cupped her breast and idly massaged the underside with his thumb.
For several moments he listened to her breathe, felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest as he held her.
He loved her. Nothing in his life had prepared him for what he felt for Anne. With her beside him he felt powerful, as if there was nothing he couldn’t do. She made him feel like a whole man once more, instead of a damaged one.
He thought he’d been in love with Daphne, so long ago in England, but he knew now it was only an infatuation. Yet her rejection had hit hard. If he lost Anne—
He didn’t want to think about it. She was his breath and the blood pumping through his veins. He would cease to exist without her. He held her a little closer.
He wanted to tell her how he felt. But she’d never told him she loved him. He’d once professed his love to Daphne and had it thrown back in his face.
He cursed himself for being a coward. When the time was right, he’d tell her.
Would Anne reciprocate with words of love, or look at him with pity? Was she still pining for Anders? Had she married him because she’d been so desperate for a family?
His questions, and fears, kept him awake most of the night.
Chapter Ten
Anne stoked the fire in the woodstove and prayed she’d given it the correct amount of fuel this time. If it was the last thing she did, she’d tame the iron beast. In the month since her wedding she’d subjected the family to both burnt offerings and undercooked meals.
Sometimes she felt overwhelmed by all she needed to learn to be a farm wife. Thank goodness the family was patient with her. More than anything, she wanted to make Erik proud of her.
Ingrid stepped into the kitchen carrying two pails of milk. Anne took them from her and poured them into the separator. Most days she helped with the milking and was pleased she was getting faster. By summer she’d be able to take over the job from Ingrid when she married John and moved to her own farm with him. Perhaps that would help ease some of Erik’s worry about his sister’s impending move. She knew he was concerned, not because he’d told her but because Ingrid had. She wished he’d share his thoughts and his worries with her. She remembered heated discussions in her parents’ home as they hashed out decisions about money, about which schools to send her and her sister to, about what to have for dinner. They’d talked about everything together, shared worries and fears. That was the kind of marriage she wanted.
But Erik was determined to keep his troubles to himself. Was he trying to spare her, or did he not trust her enough to tell her? Either way, she didn’t like it.
Astrid and Erik entered the house a few moments later, Astrid carrying two more pails of milk. She set them on the floor next to the separator.
“The bread smells good,” she said. “When is it ready to come out of the oven?”
“In about ten minutes.”
“Wonderful! I can hardly wait to taste it.”
Anne finished separating the milk, then put the milk and cream cans into the porch, where they would stay cool. She took apart the pieces of the separator so she could wash them.
Astrid checked the clock. “It looks like it’s time to take the bread out, Anne.”
She used her oven mitts to pull the loaves from the oven and set them on the door. They had risen majestically in the pans and were a lovely shade of brown, their tops shiny from the egg white she’d brushed over them.
Astrid rapped the top of each loaf with her knuckles. A hollow echo sounded.
“Perfect,” she said. “The first batch that you mixed, kneaded, and baked yourself. Well done.”
“With a lot of help from you. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”
Ingrid squeezed her arm. “It will, I’m sure of it. I’m so proud of you, Anne. I knew we could make a farm girl out of you.”
Anne laughed and thanked her. She looked to Erik, who was seated at the table, watching her. He smiled, but said nothing. She turned away, disappointed. Why couldn’t he acknowledge she’d done something right for a change? Why couldn’t he tell her he loved her?
It was only in their bedroom at night that, with passionate kisses and tender touches, Erik showed her he cared for her. The rest of the time she felt he was holding a part of himself back from her.
She wanted all of him, not just bits and pieces.
Perhaps it was up to her to make the first move. Maybe she’d have to take a leap of faith and be the first one to whisper “I love you” in the night.
****
The windows rattled as the north wind vented its fury on the small farmhouse. It howled through the trees protecting the yard, whipping snowbanks into frothy peaks. For the past three days the wind had pummeled the farm, making the short walk to the barn cold and perilous. It was easy to get disoriented in the white-out conditions. Erik had heard stories of farmers becoming lost between their house and their barn, walking out into a field where they froze to death. Some farmers tied cl
othesline between the two buildings so they had something to use as a guide during a blizzard. Even during inclement weather the cows needed to be fed and milked.
Just as they were sitting down to dinner, they heard a banging on the outside door. Ingrid ran through the porch to see who was there. A moment later she returned with Carl Bjornson. He didn’t waste time on preliminaries.
“Julia’s gone into labor. It’s been ten, maybe twelve hours. There’s no way I can get Doc Brown in this weather.” He looked directly at Anne. “I know you’re a nurse, and a good one. I saw what you did for that boy at your wedding. You have to come with me. Julia needs you.”
“Carl, I’ve no experience delivering babies. The only time I’ve helped deliver a baby was in my training. And I’ve never done it on my own.”
“You’re my only hope, my wife’s only hope. She’s been in labor so long. I’m afraid something is wrong.”
“Sometimes labor is very long with the first child,” Astrid said. “It doesn’t mean anything is wrong.”
“Maybe, but I can’t take that chance. Anne, please, you’ve got to help me. My horses are waiting outside. There’s not much time.”
“Of course. Give me a couple of minutes.”
She turned to look at Erik before heading upstairs with Ingrid to find warmer clothes. He saw apprehension in her eyes, but also determination. She had no idea what she was going to walk into, but she wouldn’t back down without a fight.
Carl anxiously paced the short distance between the door and the table, the snow on his boots making a wet path. A moment later Anne returned. She’d pulled on an extra pair of pants, as well as an additional sweater. She grabbed her jacket from the hook near the door and slipped it on. Erik did the same.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m coming with you,” he said, his heart in his throat. How could he let her face the blizzard alone?
“You need to stay here to look after the animals. And if the blizzard stops tomorrow, we’ll need you to go to town and fetch Dr. Brown.” She touched his face with her gloved hand.
“I’ll take care of her, Erik,” Carl said. “I know the way like the back of my hand. I got here. I can get us back.”
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