Amish Heart (Erotic Romance) (Amish Heart Trilogy)

by Miranda Rush

  Around and around these thoughts and emotions went until three days later when the store was at its busiest, he appeared. He was even more appealing than ever. His dark curls were lustrous and his eyes had what was fast becoming to Rebekah an endearing intensity. He was clean-shaven and was wearing spotless blue jeans and the whitest button down shirt Rebekah had ever seen. In his hand he carried a single red rosebud, the kind sold in English stores.

  Nearly blind to all but Nick, she hurriedly assisted customers with their purchases, her eyes drawing up to his at every opportunity. He stood, unmoving, self-possessed. Two Amish women in front of the counter were, in true Amish fashion, examining their purchases carefully, deliberating if they should buy that extra box of cereal or not. Or should thy just settle for more of the bent cans, now that they were on special? Or maybe they should—Get out! Rebekah wanted to scream at them. But instead she ignored their conversation, not out of patience, but because it gave her the moment to meet Nick’s eyes again. We touch without touching, she reflected. And when we do touch . . . she had very little to go on but, to her innocent mind, it seemed immense.

  Finally the women decided on the extra cans of tuna and paid. After the screen door slammed behind them, Rebekah took a few tentative steps and stood in front of the counter, doe-eyed and unable to speak. Presently, Nick took two strides with his long legs and was before her. Not touching, not yet. Just letting his gaze wash over her. She took in every detail of him, his contrasting silkiness, hardness, and smoothness. His breath was warm and she detected the hint of soap and aftershave. English soap. She recognized the smell. Once, on a stocking trip with Leah, she had picked up a box of English soap, held it to her nose and inhaled deeply. The smell of the English. Then she hastily put it back before Leah could notice. Scented soaps were not for the Amish. She recognized that faint scent on Nick now. It was such a contrast to the Amish who only bathed once a week. By Saturday night, Amish men in particular reeked ripely, especially in the summer months.

  He handed her the flower. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

  It was all she could do to breathe, being mesmerized by his eyes. It seemed that everything poured out like honey: thick, slow, and sweet. She reached up to skim his jaw with her fingertips. His skin was warm and moist. He swallowed, timid for a moment, then moistened his lips which parted in a half smile. Placing a hand on each side of her head, he bent his face to meet hers.

  The kiss came, at first a brush on the side of her mouth, then centering and sweeping fully, tenderly, opening his lips to take in hers. First the upper lip, then the lower, then both at once. Rebekah’s eyes closed so as to take in only the unbearable exquisiteness that was his mouth. A sigh escaped her. Her lips moved with his softly, then more ardently as his arms came around and, pulling at the small of her back, drew her closer to him. Then, his tongue tasted her lips, briefly. She returned the action, and he opened his mouth, delicately grazing her tongue with his.

  It was kerosene to flame. A surge of fire sparked through Rebekah, causing a roar in her head. Unconsciously dropping the rose, Rebekah threw her arms around him, catching him tightly. Locked in their embrace, Nick moved forward, pushing Rebekah back into the counter, pressing into her, hugging her with his whole body. At once feeling his hardness digging into her abdomen, an unexpected, tremendous surge of heat welled up in her and settled in her thighs, her pelvis and her breasts. She became aware of her nipples erect and rubbing against the fabric of her dress. An alien need now was deliciously welling up inside of her. Nick continued to kiss her. The heat in her pelvis intensified, collecting now in the area between her legs. Moisture—sweat?— trickled down her inner thigh. Unconsciously, her hips tilted forward as she rose up to meet his kisses. He pressed, rubbed into her hips and then quietly withdrew.

  Rebekah, panting, reached out for him. He stepped forward again, this time bussing her softly, short sweet pecks on her lips. Then he stepped away again and drew a breath. He stooped to pick up her rose, and placed it in in her hand, kissing her hand at the same time. Then he flashed her a grin and said, “I’ve been thinking about you.” And then he was gone.

  Rebekah stood as if paralyzed for several moments. Did that just happen?

  She was still trying to gather herself when the screen door slammed and Leah came into the shop. Leah took one look at the rose and her sister’s flushed complexion and said, “The English.” It really wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  A cloud veiled Leah’s eyes. “Rebekah—”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t—”

  “I know.”

  “Rebekah. Do you like him?”

  Yes, I’m in love with him, Leah. Her eyes glazed as she stood wordless.

  “Ezekiel would not like this.”

  “I know.”

  “Rebekah! You are getting married.” Leah searched her sister’s face for understanding, agreement, docility—anything—and finding none, shook her head with disbelief. “You are marrying Ezekiel next month!”

  If only I could forget! “I know.”

  “Please,” Leah beseeched her sister.

  “Don’t tell Father.” Leah regarded her gravely. Now it was Rebekah‘s turn to plead. “Please.”

  Leah paused, taking in the rose once more. “I won’t,” she said slowly, “but I am worried about you.”

  Rebekah gave a small smile, meant to reassure her sister and friend. Leah was not to be convinced. “I am fine. Truly I am.”

  Leah hugged her and left, whatever she had come in for completely forgotten.

  I’m fine. Words she had told Leah seconds ago resounded in her head.

  Taking the rose in her hands, she broke off the stem and tossed it into the trash. Then she put the bud into her apron pocket and, stroking it, thought of the man she loved.

  Chapter 9

  Rebekah sat on the wooden floor of the room she shared with her sisters, alone, tears streaking down her face. In front of her was her dowry chest nearly full of linens with lace crocheted around them, Depression era glassware, silverware, and quilts, all placed there in anticipation of married life, in anticipation of happiness. Now none of it meant anything. Nothing. Rebekah hugged herself tightly, her body wracked with silent sobs. Oh dear God, I wish Ezekiel were Nick. Why couldn’t he be Nick? The injustice grated sharply upon her. Is it fair to be kissed like Nick kissed me and then be subject to marry anyone else, but especially Ezekiel? Then she thought of the martyrs of her people. They each suffered greatly. Her dilemma might be fair in comparison, but it certainly wasn’t mercy. It isn’t right! She screamed inwardly.

  Ezekiel had showed up again, merely days after that kiss, violently shaking Rebekah out of her dream. I can’t have Nick. I’ll never have Nick. He had met her with his icy stare and simply asked for her father. Not a “How are you,” or “How are the wedding plans coming.” Nothing. He just eyed her in stony silence and, upon his meeting with her father, Rebekah overheard something about them sharing the van to Wisconsin. Holy shit, as Nick would say. Now she would not be able to talk to Nick at all, she would always be under the observation of her husband-to-be. Can’t Father see how much I hate that man! She silently raged, holding Ezekiel’s repugnant image in her mind.

  Then she tried to calm herself, telling herself the words she had conveyed to Nick. “Liking someone is not necessary for an Amish marriage.” Oh, how damnable those words were now! Her tears slowing to a trickle, she reached out and fingered the delicate lace of a napkin, of which she had so painstakingly worked on what seemed ages ago, before she knew what agony could be like. She tried to imagine the occasion she would use the napkin. Whatever it would be, there would be Ezekiel with his surly face and corpulent Mother Yoder, sneering down upon her. Whatever occasion, it won’t be one of my choosing. It won’t be a happy one.

  Maybe it was that she no longer revered her wedding day as something to be joyful about or maybe it was that she needed to be able to exert a tiny bit of contro
l in her life. Whatever the reason was, Rebekah pulled the napkin out of the chest, shook out its neat folds and resoundingly blew her nose in it.

  Chapter 10

  1:04 a.m.

  With a sinking heart, Rebekah assisted with getting packages of food ready for the trip to Wisconsin. She would be with Nick two whole days but be unable to talk to him, to kiss him, to touch him. All the while she was there with him in Wisconsin she would be under the keen gaze of Ezekiel, who watched her incessantly when they were together. Furthermore, Leah would be alert to anything that passed between Nick and her. Rebekah wanted nothing more than to flee her circumstances and find someplace safe where they could be alone. But such was not to be the case, she knew. One thing about an Amish wedding: there were always people everywhere, talking, laughing, celebrating. Watching, Rebekah though disconsolately. She could already feel eyes upon her as her own marriage to Ezekiel was bantered about and it filled her with pure loathing.

  2:00 a.m.

  Nick’s van pulled up outside and Rebekah picked up a box and walked hurriedly out to meet him. There sat Ezekiel and his family. Shit! Damnable shit! She had wanted so much to hide behind the van for a quick kiss. Damn Ezekiel! But Nick just beamed at her and led her to the rear of the van where he opened the door. Rebekah placed her package inside and moving close, Nick caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It will be ok,” he whispered. She smiled at that and then got in through the side of the van, sitting behind Ezekiel’s Mother and Polly, whose sloppy selves took up the entire second row.

  Nick adjusted his rear view mirror so as to see her better. He caught her eye and winked and she almost laughed. We’ll touch without touching. Is it possible to kiss without kissing?

  The rest of the family came out to the van soon enough and they were off on their six hour drive. For the first hour and a half, the two families spoke animatedly about the wedding that day, about Rebekah’s and Ezekiel’s upcoming wedding in a month, and about the recent horse auction in Jamesport. As the sun started to rise, the noise subsided and several began nodding off to sleep.

  Occasionally, Ezekiel would turn around and she could feel his glare, but she only cared for Nick’s glances. She waited for the moments he would look in the rearview mirror and catch her eye. She bluntly ignored Ezekiel.

  At every fuel stop, while everyone else piled into the bathroom, Rebekah held her urine in hopes of a chance moment to simply touch hands. She didn’t dare hope for a kiss. But someone always remained in the van, obstructing her plan. To deal with her growing frustration, she kept her eyes on Nick and played their kiss over and again in her mind. It was delicious, bringing to her groin a touch of the heat she had felt with his body pushing her against the counter in the shop.

  8:15 a.m.

  Bumping down the dusty gravel roads, Elder Bontrager was yelling out directions to Nick from the back seat. They were here. It was her cousin’s wedding day and the festive spirit had already begun. Rebekah carried in bags and boxes with Nick and Hannah into the kitchen and lugged the suitcase up to the bedroom she was to share with her sisters. Going back into the hallway, she saw Nick discussing sleeping arrangements with the bride’s mother.

  “Will this room be good enough for you?” She indicated the room across the hallway from Rebekah’s. “You can have it to yourself.”

  Nick thanked her and stood waiting for her to leave. Could we be alone for a moment now? Rebekah thought. A master at delegating work, the bride’s mother turned to Rebekah and said, “Would you gather the eggs from the coop?”

  Giving Nick a longing look, she followed the woman downstairs.

  ***

  Walking in onto the hay strewn floor of the chicken house, Rebekah felt momentarily blinded as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She was picking up the eggs, some still warm and damp, and placing them into the basket she carried when she felt strong arms around her and hot breath upon her nape. Turning, she was met with Nick’s soulful face. Dropping the basket beside her, she reached for his head to pull him in to be kissed, at first yielding and soft, then more amorously. Nick sank to his knees, gently bringing her down with him. He pushed her to the floor of the coop, one hand behind her head and the other on her diminutive ribcage, just grazing the bottom of her breast with his caress. His mouth possessed hers, and she fully gave in, her hands still holding his head. The rigid mass she had felt in his pants was still there, amassing greater fire. His caress of her ribcage traveled up to her breast, feeling her stiff nipple under thin cotton, stoking and squeezing as his hips began to rock slightly, rubbing his—what WAS that!—against her.

  Rebekah burst into flames. Her pubic area was amassing hot gravity; the want she had felt in the store was becoming a blistering need. Dewiness appeared from the meeting point of her thighs and dripped down the crack of her round cheeks. With a will of their own, her hips began to move in rhythm to Nick’s. She pushed herself into his hardness, feeling wetness collect under her bottom, soaking her bloomers. His hand reached down to play upon her hip, stoking, and then holding fast to her hipbone.

  “What are you doing?” A child’s voice. Terror seized Rebekah. They scrambled to their feet.

  It was Lucy Scwartzentrooper, the five year old daughter of one of Rebekah’s cousins. Holy shit! She stared wide eyed, as Rebekah picked grass from her skirt. “We were just playing.”

  “Can I play? Can I? Can I?” The child bounced up and down in front of Rebekah, who was at a loss for words.

  Nick came to her rescue. “It’s a game just for grown-ups.”

  “Oh.” She deflated.

  Rebekah found her voice, “Go find the cousins and play a children’s game. Go swing on the swing.”

  “We were playing hide and seek.”

  “Good idea. Go hide.”

  “I was hiding in here,” said Lucy petulantly.

  “You can’t hide in here.”

  “Why not?” The child wrinkled her nose in puzzlement.

  “You’ll scare the chickens.”

  “Okay.” Giving up with much chagrin, Lucy plodded outside the coop, then screamed in delight, scrambling to the “safe tree” when spotted by her playmates, completely forgetting grown up games.

  Nick helped Rebekah dust herself off and gather the rest of the eggs. “You better get back before you are missed.”

  She savored him. His pants. His bulge. She wanted to touch it, to explore it.

  She signed. “I guess.” He bent down to give her one last kiss and she returned to the house, egg basket in hand, bloomers sticking to her between her legs.

  11:30 a.m.

  Rebekah had worked with the other women preparing the food for the wedding while the men sat in rockers and talked. Now it was time to load everyone into the van and take off to the wedding, which was two miles away. Mother Yoder heaved into the vehicle, complaining about the heat, sweat gushing down her fleshy cheeks. Rebekah’s father sat in front, giving Nick directions, while Rebekah stared out the window. What would have happened if Lucy hadn’t walked in on us? She thought of the prominence in his pants and wondered if she could have worked up the nerve to probe it. What does it look like? Feel like? Because it feels huge. And while yet innocent and not understanding why, thinking about the greatness of his swelling made her burn.

  They arrived at the groom’s house where the wedding was to be and hauled everything out of the van and onto tables. Rebekah returned to where Nick was standing by his van. “Do you want a plate?”

  He almost said yes, but then glanced up to take in Ezekiel’s baleful scrutiny. Rebekah saw him, too. You can almost see him listening to us. “Better not. I think I’ll go back to the house and try to catch a nap.”

  “See you tonight then.” Rebekah stood watching the dust and gravel spit out from his tires as he drove back to the house.

  12:36 p.m.

  Going to the outhouse. Ezekiel won’t follow me there. Walking to the back of the groom’s house and cautiously peeping out. Nobody watching. Heart hammeri
ng in her chest, Rebekah snuck to the road and upon hitting it, bolted headlong in the direction of her cousin’s home. She didn’t stop running until she was long out of sight of the wedding party.

  1:45 p.m.

  Approaching the house, Rebekah’s qualms began to catch up with her. What am I doing? Where can this possibly lead? Nick is not Amish. I am not English. It’s impossible. She thought of Ezekiel, noxious Ezekiel. That toad. Then she considered Nick. What was this if not love? She walked determinedly through the front door.

  The silence hung heavy, only marred by the sound of her boots on the wooden floor and her recklessly hammering heart. She climbed the stairs to the second floor and came upon Nick’s room. His door was wide open.

  He sat on the edge of the white bed, barefoot and shirtless, the sleek, sculpted lines of his arms and torso visible. Fine, curly hairs dusted his chest, down the center line of his belly and disappeared under his blue jeans. Rebekah started, almost withdrawing. She had not expected to find him naked.

  “I was hoping you would come.” Nick came over to take her hand in his and drew her into his room, closing the door behind them. “I was afraid you wouldn’t.” She looked around the room for a chair. There were none. He led her to the bed to sit beside him.

  She sat, her hands in her lap, not able to look at him, suddenly shy. Am I afraid? Why am I here then? Nick traced his finger along her cheek. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, in comforting tones. “Hey, look at me,” he said softly. “Are you okay?” She took a long look at him. Sweet brown eyes, mouth that curved into a faint smile, long hands. It was still Nick; just Nick but with more of his beauty showing. Biting her lip, she at last smiled some.

  “Yes, I’m alright.”

  Nick clasped her hands. “How was the wedding?”