“Is there anything you don’t want for breakfast?” she asked.
“I never want to eat a scrambled egg again in my life. It’s the only breakfast food I know how to make, and I’ve eaten more than my share of them in the past six years.”
“No scrambled eggs. I think I can handle that.”
She waited until he’d left the room before scrambling out of bed and putting on a simple work dress with an apron over it. She would make him the best breakfast she could this morning. How could she not? He’d shown her a great deal of compassion by deciding to wait.
She lit the stove before digging through the crates and barrels he’d brought in the day before. The simple answer would be to fix pancakes again, but she wanted him to see she knew how to cook more than one thing. She came up with a loaf of bread wrapped in a towel. He must have purchased it in town the previous day. That was perfect. She’d make French toast. It was the best way to use up day old bread.
She made her mixture of milk and eggs before heating up the skillet. She quickly fried up some bacon and had it cooling a bit while she dipped the bread and fried it as well. She wondered how many pieces he would eat, but had no way of knowing. He’d had an even dozen pancakes the night before, which had surprised her. He wasn’t fat, but he was solid.
She had just taken the last piece of toast off the skillet and put it onto a plate when he came back into the house, hanging his hat on the hook by the door. He carried in a bucket of milk and a basket full of fresh eggs. She was pleased to see how many eggs there were. “Do the hens give that many every day?”
He nodded. “Usually I mix some in with the pig slop, so none go to waste.”
She smiled. “Assuming you like sweets, I’ll make good use of all those eggs.”
He grinned slightly and nodded. “I love sweets.” He advanced toward her and washed his hands before catching her about the waist. She didn’t like him touching her there, because she felt like she was too big, but she didn’t say anything. He lowered his head and kissed her softly, his tongue going into her mouth to stroke against hers. “I love sweets almost as much as I love kissing my wife.”
He let her go abruptly and took his spot at the table while she blushed and smoothed her dress. Was that what he meant by kissing her whenever he wanted? She put the bacon and French toast on the table before pouring them each a cup of coffee. “Do you take milk or sugar in your coffee?” she asked, startled by the weak sound of her voice.
“I like it black.” She set the cup in front of him, and watched as he took a sip.
She added butter and maple syrup to the table before taking the spot across from him. He prayed for them, and he watched as she fixed her toast. “I haven’t had French toast since I was a little boy.”
“It’s one of my favorite ways to use up day old bread. My mother hated waste, so I had to be certain not to throw anything away.”
“I like bread stuffing too. If I can bring in a turkey, would you make me some bread stuffing?”
She smiled and nodded. “I’d be happy to.”
He ate his first bite of French toast, and his eyes closed as he savored the taste. He’d obviously been eating his own cooking for way too long if he was that excited over such a simple meal. She knew then that she would spend some time spoiling him with different foods. She liked the idea of fixing him things that he could enjoy.
“What are your plans for the day?” he asked after he’d swallowed the first bite.
“I have a whole list of things I’d like to get done, but the top priorities are doing the wash, putting away all the food you brought in yesterday, and getting some baking done. We need to have fresh bread. Will you come to the house for lunch?”
“Lunch.” He smiled. “I haven’t eaten lunch in a long time. There was never any point in cooking three times a day.”
She smiled. “Lunch. You must have been starving by the time you came in for supper.”
“I was, but I only knew how to cook two things, so I just got tired of eating them.”
She frowned. “Well, I’ll make sure I don’t make beans any time soon. Would that help?” She didn’t like saying it, because beans were an inexpensive, filling meal, but she could understand his boredom with his simple meals.
“For a while at least. I’d appreciate that.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll come to the house around noon for lunch if that suits you.”
“That sounds fine. I’ll have something ready.” What she didn’t know at that moment, but she’d figure it out. She’d always been a creative cook for herself. Her mother had insisted everything be done a certain way, so she had started cooking one thing for her mother and another for herself. She was happy she had the years of experience cooking now.
When he had finished his plate of food, he leaned over and kissed her. “I’ll see you in about six hours for lunch.” He disappeared out the door before she could say anything else.
She stared after him in surprise. It was so odd to her that he kissed her so casually. She was actually starting to enjoy it, and she wasn’t certain how she felt about that.
She jumped up and started on the dishes, scrubbing what they’d used that morning, before finding what she wanted in the food scattered everywhere that she wanted to fix for both lunch and dinner. She took out some salt pork and decided to make a stew for lunch. She could have some hot bread ready to go with it, and she knew that would thrill Edward. She’d seen by the look on his face that morning that he’d be thrilled to eat anything he didn’t have to cook himself.
She started the stew on the stove top, before quickly mixing up the dough for the bread and leaving it on the table to rise. She sorted through the barrels and carefully rolled them off to the side so she could use the room to the best of her ability. She noticed the pull for the cellar door, and grabbing a lantern, went down into the cellar to see what could be used there. She wouldn’t be able to get the large barrels down there on her own, but with Edward’s help maybe she could get them out of the way.
There were shelves lining every wall, but nothing was on them. She sighed. She would at least have a place to put all the canned goods he’d purchased in town. For now she’d move them to the side, and hopefully she’d find the time to deal with them later.
She started on the washing next. It was going to be a big job; there was no doubt about that. She pulled down the curtains from the main room and then the ones from the bedroom, picking up the quilt and sheets from where it had been wadded up before bed the night before. She found the scrub board and washing pan and wondered how often he’d washed things on his own, but she was afraid to ask. The clothes he’d worn yesterday had been so dirty, she was afraid to find out he’d only washed once a month or so.
She had everything on the line and the bread baking by ten, so she sat down for a moment, looking around her. She’d already accomplished a great deal, but there was so much left to do. She took a few deep breaths and stood up, resuming her cleaning with the kitchen table. It was so clean she didn’t feel the need to use plates when she was done. Her mental image made her laugh. She could just see the stew falling off the sides as they tried to eat it straight off the table.
She went into the bedroom next and washed the inside of the window. She’d do all of them on the outside as soon as she finished with everything else. She wanted the outside of her house pretty as well, but the inside being clean had to take priority.
She hurried to take the bread out of the oven and smiled as she saw how perfectly the loaves had come out. She set the four loaves on the table and used a tiny bit of the butter he’d purchased in town to brush over the top of each loaf, to make them just a bit tastier. Then she covered them all with a cloth, stirred the stew which was still simmering on the stove, and went back into the bedroom to scrub the floor.
By the time Edward came home for lunch, the bedroom was sparkling clean. There wasn’t a big difference in the main room yet, so she shut the door behind her, hoping he’d be surprised
. She hurried to the kitchen and served him his stew, before cutting two pieces of the fresh bread for each of them and buttering both. “Milk, water or coffee?”
“Milk would be good,” he replied, watching her work and admiring how much she’d already accomplished. He’d loved his first wife, but she hadn’t been much of a cook. Truthfully, he hadn’t eaten this well since he’d lived with his parents growing up.
She poured a big glass of milk for each of them and took the spot across from him. “What time would you like dinner?” she asked as soon as he’d prayed for them both.
“Oh, about five or five-thirty is good.” He looked at the barrels pushed up against the walls. “I don’t want you moving those heavy barrels by yourself.”
She shrugged. “I was careful, but I needed them out of my way while I worked this morning.” She bit her lip. “Would you be able to get them down to the cellar later? Or are they too heavy?”
“Wouldn’t be a problem.” He grinned at her. “You really do like being a wife.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have decided to be a mail order bride if I didn’t.” She looked around the house. “I’ll have the curtains back up and everything done by dinner time.”
“No big hurry. There aren’t any neighbors to see in the windows.”
“Still, it makes me feel like I’m being watched at night with no curtains. Even if it’s only the cows watching me.”
He chuckled softly, realizing then that he genuinely liked his new wife. Not just her body, and not just her ability to cook, but her. He was pleased to know that, but it made him feel guilty at the same time. “I’ll blindfold the cows at night if I have to.”
She giggled softly. “That would work!”
“Can I put the provisions in the cellar after lunch? Or should I wait til this evening?”
“After lunch would be wonderful,” she said. He’d be underfoot a little longer, but at least she wouldn’t have to keep working around everything.
After he finished lunch he went to her, where she’d already started washing dishes at the sink, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. “Lunch was wonderful. I’m going to put the barrels up against one wall. If you want them moved, let me know. Don’t do it yourself.”
She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. In just twenty-four hours he’d gotten her used to his touch. She pulled back. “Thank you for helping me with them.”
“Thank you for making me tasty food!” He hurried to get the work done, while she finished the lunch dishes.
Once he was finished and had left for the afternoon, she put the pot of stew on the back burner. For today, she was going to use it for both lunch and supper, but she was going to try not to do that often. She knew he was sick of eating the same things over and over.
She swept the main room and set about scrubbing the floors. How could so much dirt have settled into a small space? Had the floors even been scrubbed once in the six years since his wife had died?
Finally, she finished the floors and moved onto the walls. She decided she’d wait to take everything out of the cabinets and scrub them out tomorrow. Her back was starting to hurt from the work she’d already done.
She brought in the clothes from the line, carefully folding all of his things and hanging the curtains. Once the laundry was put away, she reheated the stew from lunch. She’d spent all day, and she hadn’t finished everything yet. Another day or two and she’d have the house how she wanted it, and she could move on to more interesting things.
She quickly whipped up the batter for a cake, knowing that having the sweet would thrill her new husband.
When he came in for supper, he brought in another pail of milk and hung his hat on the hook by the door. He moved across the room to put the milk on the table beside her before pulling her close. She’d covered the cake with a towel, and carefully aired out the house, hoping he wouldn’t realize she’d made the cake, because she wanted to surprise him.
The kiss they shared was a bit more intimate than before; his tongue swept into her mouth, and she clung to his shoulders. When he pulled back, he grinned at her. “I think I’m going to like being married to you.” He sounded surprised to say the words.
She grinned at him. She was finding that now that he was opening up to her more, she liked him too. “I hope so.” He sat at the table, and she brought stew again. “I’m sorry to serve the same thing twice in one day, but I had a lot of other things to do today.” She bit her lip, worried that he’d be upset with her.
He laughed. “Just don’t serve it for five years straight, and we’ll be fine.” He looked down at the stew. “On second thought, if it’s always this good, and I’m not eating my own cooking? You probably could serve it for five years straight.”
She laughed. “I’m glad you don’t mind, but I won’t serve it for every meal.” She took her seat across from him, a pile of bread in the center of the table.
They chatted happily throughout the meal, both of them starting to feel comfortable with the other. “The house looks great. I can’t believe you were able to do that much in just a day.”
“It wasn’t easy,” she said with a grin. “I barely took any time off.”
At the end of the meal, she stood to put her dishes in the sink and filled the sink with hot soapy water that she had heating on the stove. When he brought her his bowl, she washed it quickly. Turning to the cabinet she pulled down a small plate and took the towel off the cake, serving him a piece.
He stared at it with a big smile. She hadn’t had the ingredients to make icing for the cake, so instead, she’d whipped some cream to top it. She handed him the cake with a fork, and he hurried back to the table, taking a big bite. “You made me a cake on a day you were cleaning the house from top to bottom?”
She smiled and shrugged self-consciously. “You told me you like sweets. I guess it’s my way of thanking you for being so understanding.” Julia carried her own piece of cake to the table and sat down with it, taking a bite and smiling. She was very happy with how it had turned out. She hadn’t been sure with the different ingredients she had to work with than back home, but she’d done her best.
“You’re going to spoil me with good food and sweets.”
She smiled at him. “You deserve to be spoiled.”
When they finished eating, he watched as she washed and dried the dishes. When she turned around, he gestured for her to come to him. Once she stood in front of him, he pulled her down onto his lap and nuzzled her neck.
She squealed with surprise. “I’ll squash you!”
He laughed, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Squash me? I’m made of stronger stuff than that.” He nipped at her neck, surprising her, but causing a tingling sensation to travel all down her spine.
She shivered in his arms. “What are you doing?”
“I’m wooing my wife.” He pulled her face down to his for a kiss, his tongue moving into her mouth to twine with hers. His hands traveled up and down her plump body, enjoying the feel of her softness against his fingers. He couldn’t believe she felt so unsure of herself. She was perfect in his eyes.
He moved one hand around to cup her breast, and she stiffened with surprise. Hadn’t he said he would give her two weeks? She started to protest, but decided she liked the feel of his hand there and instead arched against him, turning toward him more fully.
He cupped her bottom and adjusted her so she was facing him fully with one leg on either side of his. Her arms went around his shoulders and she gave herself over to the sensations he was causing her. After a minute, he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “We’re going to have to stop now if you want to stop.”
She was out of breath as she pulled back, looking into his dark brown eyes. How could she have ever thought she favored blue? She saw the spark in them as she sighed. “I think we should. I don’t feel right about it yet, although, your methods are very convincing.”
She realized then that her skirt was up to her thighs
, and she blushed furiously, climbing off his lap to cover herself. What was she thinking sitting on him like that?
He chuckled softly. “Soon, my dear wife, soon.”
She turned away from him and walked toward the bedroom. “I’m going to change into my nightgown. Give me five minutes, please?”
Chapter Five
Julia changed quickly and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to her neck. She didn’t want to risk Edward seeing her. When he realized how she looked without her corset, he wouldn’t want to touch her at all any longer.
She’d just finished covering when he opened the door and shucked off his clothes, slipping into bed beside her. Instead of turning away from her, he pulled her into his arms. “You’re not going to kiss me good night?”
She sighed and lifted her lips to his, brushing them across his. She pulled away and rested her head on his shoulder. “I guess I was ready for the housework part of marriage, but this is still strange to me.”
He smiled in the dark, kissing her forehead. “It’ll take a little time, but you’ll get used to me touching you. Soon, I hope. Because I plan on touching you everywhere.” His lips dropped to her ear. “Has anyone ever touched you between your legs?”
She shook her head with wide eyes. “Never!”
“I will. Soon. What do you think it will feel like?”
He shouldn’t be talking to her this way. Should he? “I don’t know…”
“Do you want me to show you now?” he asked softly. “I promise, you’ll like it a lot.”
She blushed, shaking her head. “I can’t let you do that.”
He laughed. “Nothing is wrong between husband and wife. You’ll like what I do to you.”
“I don’t think this conversation is proper.”
“It’s not at all. It’s naughty,” he whispered against her ear as he nipped it softly. “You like it though, don’t you?”
“No, of course I don’t.” She denied it quickly, but she did like it. She liked knowing that he desired her.
Mail Order Matron (Brides of Beckham Book 9) Page 4
