by Lisa Bingham
Daniel pulled her close, burying his face in the fullness of her hair. “You could have a new life with me, Susan. You can start fresh—be whatever you want to be.”
“And you? Why would you want to saddle yourself with someone like me?”
“I’m not being saddled—”
“Why?”
“I’ve got my reasons.”
“And if I’m free to be whatever I want, what will you become?”
He drew back, instinctively divining what she needed to know. If he became her husband, how much of one did he intend to be? He looked at her openly and honestly, allowing her to see only a hint of the incredible desire he felt. “Your husband. In every way.”
“Daniel, I’m not like other women.”
Evidently she knew there were still several emotional bridges for her to cross.
“No. You’re not like other women.” A pang of hurt was reflected in her eyes, and he hurried to add, “You’re wonderful. I’ve never met anyone as good and honest as you, Susan. I’m not trying to say I’m worth your—”
“Daniel!”
“No, let me finish. I know I’m not the kind of man most women would allow at their tables, but I’ll never hurt you, Susan. And as long as I’m alive, no one else will hurt you, either.”
“So you’re marrying me simply to protect me,” she concluded. “I can take care of myself, Daniel. If that’s your only reason, then—”
“No, Susan. That’s not my only reason.” He stroked her hair. Her beautiful silken hair.
“Why, Daniel?”
She was going to make him say it. She was going to make him humble himself and give her the whole truth. His throat worked and his mouth opened. “Because you need me and …”
He lifted his gaze, and Susan was stunned by what she found there. His eyes were those of a forgotten boy and a wary man.
Daniel’s next words were all that Susan needed to plunge her into an unknown world and give her the courage to face her uncertainty and her fear.
“I think … I know I need you, too.”
Chapter 21
Susan’s fingers closed over the locket that hung around her neck. She traced the worn engraving as she tiptoed down the back stairs, avoiding the treads that squeaked. In only a few minutes she would be a married woman.
To say that Donovan and the others at the orphanage had been surprised by their announcement was an understatement. Only Esther had seemed to regard them with a secret knowledge.
Immediately the older woman had begun to talk of a spring wedding. But Daniel adamantly refused to wait. He hadn’t even been willing to delay the ceremony until the first of the reunion guests could arrive. With Susan’s hand held tightly in his own, he’d insisted that they marry within three days. If no one approved, then they would elope.
Though Susan had regretted the fact that she couldn’t be married in the chapel at Saint Francis, she hadn’t protested. Her marriage to Daniel seemed like a fairy wish, an intangible bubble. She wasn’t sure it could actually exist, and to speak about it too much might cause it to vanish. So she had begged Essie to agree and then had arranged for the local priest to marry them and invited Sister Mary Margaret and Max to join the family as witnesses. Though Max had been distraught to hear she would be marrying Daniel Crocker, Sister Mary Margaret had assured Susan that she would make sure he attended.
After twisting the knob on the guest room door, she slipped inside. “Daniel?”
Hearing the soft voice, Daniel turned from where he’d been glaring into the mirror and straightening his string tie. His obvious surprise quickly melted beneath a wave of pleasure. “You look beautiful.” His comment was a bare wisp of sound.
Her hair was arranged in tumbling ringlets down her back. She had worn it loose especially for him. And she hadn’t a shred of black on anywhere. The gown Esther had worked night and day to complete was a delicate cream color, as were her stockings, slippers, and petticoats.
She walked toward him, clutching the smooth fabric of her dress. “Esther came to my room a few minutes ago. We’ve been having a little talk.” She looked away, embarrassed by what she intended to do and say, but she needed to reassure herself that she could be the kind of wife Daniel deserved. She needed to know that she could feel passion without fear.
“Is anything wrong?” he prompted.
“Daniel, I …”
“You’re having second thoughts.” His eyes became shuttered, taking on the ice blue sheen she hadn’t seen in so long.
“No. I just need you to … Daniel, kiss me.”
“What?”
“Do it. Please.”
He grinned at her indulgently. “You can’t wait for the ceremony?”
“Please, Daniel,” she begged.
“And how would you like to be kissed? Like a friend? An acquaintance? A sister?”
“Don’t tease.”
He tried to appear serious, but the twitch at the corners of his lips gave him away. “I suppose you’ve decided to test the goods first? If that’s the case, wouldn’t you like more of an inspection? But then, you’ve seen almost all there is to see, haven’t you?”
She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his, cutting off anything else he might have said.
No, she hadn’t imagined how good it felt to have Daniel’s lips on her own. How strong and safe he felt. How he made her believe she could conquer the world.
When he drew away, she smiled with satisfaction.
“Care to tell me what that was all about?”
“I needed to know I could … feel the things Essie told me about.”
He pressed her palm to his chest, then eased it down, down. “You’re free to feel anything you’d like.”
“Daniel!”
Her face flamed and he chuckled, touching her chin and closing her mouth. “We’ll continue this later. When we’re alone and properly wed.” Releasing her, he withdrew his watch and snapped open the lid. “We’re late. I’ll see if I can’t put them off for a minute or two while you comb your hair.”
The heat in his gaze chased away her last-minute fears. “We’re going to be married, Susan,” he stated decisively. “I’ll see you in the parlor. Don’t dally.”
Less than fifteen minutes later Susan stood by Daniel’s side. Around her stood the orphans in their Sunday best. One girl played the upright piano in the corner while another sang. Essie sniffled with delight. Sister Mary Margaret beamed and served as maid of honor while Donovan stood as best man. Max reluctantly held the rings, staring at Susan with huge betrayed eyes.
“Shall we begin?” Father Parker asked, looping his spectacles over his ears. “We are gathered here today …”
Susan memorized Daniel’s tall, muscular form in his black dress suit and crisp white shirt. Without question, she’d made a wise decision. Strong, tall, and rugged, Daniel personified everything the West was supposed to breed into a man—courage, honor, and pride.
“More second thoughts?” Daniel murmured beneath the priest’s counsel.
She squeezed his hand. “No.”
The exchange of vows was brief. Through it all, Susan stood relaxed and calm, knowing she was doing the right thing. The cool weight of the gold band Daniel slid over her finger became a tangible symbol of their promises.
Father Parker finished the ceremony. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Daniel bent to pull her into his powerful embrace, leaving Susan, the good father, and everyone else with no doubt that this would be a true marriage.
When he released her, Susan’s heels sank to the floor. She touched her lips. He’d kissed her thoroughly, passionately. But instead of frightening her, he made her long for more.
The hall clock wheezed and ticked, filling the parlor with its rhythm and underlying the heavy silence that cloaked the two people who sat on the horsehair settee. Nearly a foot separated them, Susan guessed, but they were so aware of
each other that they might as well have been sitting in each other’s laps.
She peeked from beneath her lashes at the man who sat on her right. Although she had never seen Daniel at a loss, he was looking vaguely uncomfortable now. The last of their guests had left, and except for Father Parker who was snoring peacefully in the corner chair, they were alone. From the inner recesses of the house, they could hear Donovan settling the boys into bed and Essie returning the last few dishes to the hutch.
Susan wondered how long Daniel would wait before suggesting that they retire for the night. The tension in the room had become tangible and was beginning to crackle and pull taut. It was almost ten, and Daniel had yet to remove his jacket or loosen his tie, which only added to his stiffness. Susan wondered when he planned to release the buttons, shed his vest, his suspenders. And then …
A chill raced through her body, but she banished it by concentrating on the memory of the night she’d removed his shirt and tended to his wound. His skin had been warm then, and taut. And firm.
“Tired?”
Susan jumped when Daniel spoke to her for the first time in an hour. His expression was grim, but not with anger or frustration. It was something more. Something far more.
The moment had come.
“Yes. I am tired.”
The clock wheezed a halfhearted chime. Ten o’clock.
“Daniel?”
“Yes?” His voice grew thick and rough.
She licked her lips to ease their dryness. “Daniel, Essie says that it doesn’t have to be bad.”
He cleared his throat. “What else did Essie tell you?”
“She told me … she told me that…” She could see a faint blush of color stain his cheeks and wondered if her own skin had turned fiery. “She told me that men almost always feel a pleasurable sensation.” Images of a night so long ago rose to swim in front of her. Men laughing in drunken delight, calling out in raucous enjoyment.
As if he sensed her distress, Daniel touched her cheek. Closing her eyes, Susan concentrated on his finger as it slipped down her throat. Ruthlessly she clung to that point of contact. She would conquer her fears. She would.
Afraid that he might sense her nervousness and pull away, Susan continued. “Essie told me that a woman can feel good, too, Daniel. If she loves the man. And if he cares for her.”
Daniel’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He tangled his hands in the ringlets that cascaded down her back. The fine hair at the back of her neck stood on end in response to his touch.
“Is that all you and Essie talked about?” he asked, his smooth voice not betraying his own quaking nerves.
“No. She said you were a big man and—”
“Sweet bloody hell!” he interjected swiftly, his voice still no louder than a whisper as he glanced at the supine Father Parker to see if he’d awakened and overheard. When he turned back, the lamplight stroked the blunt lines of his features, but Susan found only gentleness in his expression. “I take it there will be no secrets or surprises when I take you to bed.”
Her heart bounded against her chest. He meant to make love to her. After an entire night of uncertainty, Susan had her answer.
“When?”
Her question startled him. He stood and walked to the window.
“When, Daniel?”
“Soon.”
“Tonight?”
“I don’t know. Go up to bed, Susan. I need to check on my horse and bed him down for the night.”
Susan acquiesced, but then stopped and returned to his side. Clasping his arm for support, she rose on tiptoe to press her lips to his cheek. His eyes burned with some deep emotion she could not identify. Desire? Wonder?
“Good night.” She took two steps, then rushed from the room.
Daniel watched her go, a knot of passion tightening his loins. He tried to still the urgency of his body. How was it that Susan’s innocent gestures and words could inflame him more than the practiced seduction of an experienced woman?
Not bothering to put on his coat, Daniel escaped outside. He knew what Susan wanted of him tonight. And, heaven help him, he knew that the rest of the household expected the same thing. But Daniel admitted he was more nervous than he had ever been. His first attempt at lovemaking had been nothing compared to the indecision that flowed through him now.
The next few hours would set the tone not only for the rest of their marriage but also for the way Susan would feel about intimacy for the rest of her life. If he frightened her, she would learn to expect such a reaction. If he refused to touch her, she would think he found her lacking. Whatever he did, she could be affected for years to come. The thought was not only daunting, it was downright chilling.
Stepping into the mustiness of the barn, he settled Chief for the night, giving him an extra measure of oats. As he turned from the stall, he paused to slap the gelding on the rump.
“Well, boy,” he murmured, “at least one of us will have an easy night of it.” Daniel snorted ruefully before adding, “And it won’t be me.”
Chapter 22
By the time Daniel finished in the barn and returned to the house, the clock was preparing to strike ten-thirty. The halls were dark. Father Parker had apparently awakened and gone home.
Daniel lit one of the lamps left on the hall table and fought the nervous churning of his stomach. Maybe Susan was already asleep. The day had been hectic, the evening long. Surely she felt the effects as much as he did.
He grasped the oak railing, paused, then with a burst of self-deprecation, strode down the hall to the guest room. He’d just wash up and gather a few clothes. Then he’d worry about how and when he’d go to Susan’s room.
As he walked down the corridor, Daniel nearly swore aloud. Each plank of the floor heralded his progress. Every person in the house would know good and well where he was going and how long he stayed. And if the floors were this noisy, what kind of sounds would come from Susan’s bed?
Daniel clamped his hand around the doorknob and twisted the brass ball as if to tear it from its escutcheon. He flung the door open and lifted the lamp.
Everything was gone from the room. His clothes. His saddlebags. Even the pitcher and basin that had stood on his dresser. With a sinking feeling, Daniel saw that the bed had been stripped and the mattress was rolled against the headboard.
“Daniel! What the hell are you doing here?”
Daniel jumped as if he’d been shot.
Donovan pushed away from the door to the boys’ bedroom and padded barefoot down the hall. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a still-taut stomach. “Why aren’t you upstairs?”
Daniel’s mouth opened. Then closed. What could he say? He certainly couldn’t tell Donovan that he’d been too yellow-livered to go to Susan’s room. His wife’s room. And he certainly wouldn’t admit that he’d been considering spending another hour downstairs praying Susan would fall asleep before he joined her.
“I came to get my clothes,” Daniel muttered, avoiding Donovan’s twinkling eyes.
“I moved them. I knew you wouldn’t have time. I thought the two of you would be more comfortable in Susan’s room and away from the peephole. But I could move you back tomorrow if you’d like.”
Suddenly Daniel felt like a prize stallion being sent out to breed with an audience waiting to watch.
“No. You’re right.” His voice sounded like the croak of a strangling frog. “After all, we’ll only be staying a night or two anyway.”
“Where will you be taking her?”
“My place.” The floorboards squeaked beneath Daniel’s feet as he retreated toward the back staircase. “Where it’s quiet.”
Susan walked to the far side of the bedroom. Stopping, she curled her toes against the cold floor, pressing one foot on top of the other and wrapping her arms around her body in an effort to get warm. She stared sightlessly out the window. Waiting. Worrying.
Minutes ago she’d stood at thi
s same window and watched Daniel return from the barn, but then, instead of coming to her, he’d stayed downstairs. Her fingers pleated the fabric belt of her robe. He would come upstairs soon. He had to.
Didn’t he?
Gnawing her lower lip, Susan frowned at her reflection in the window. She’d dressed in one of Essie’s old wrappers and the voluminous linen nightgown Daniel had seen her in once before—the Dooleys had ruined her only other sleeping shift—and she was afraid that her attire was far from arousing. But her hair was neatly plaited and tied with a ribbon. Her skin glowed from a recent scrubbing, and her hands … Well, her hands were freezing and trembling, and if he didn’t come soon, she was going to—
The door burst open behind her.
She turned, coming face to face with Daniel. The door swung closed on its hinges, the lock snapping shut.
“I went to get my clothes.”
“I see.”
“They weren’t there,” he added.
“No?”
“No.”
Nothing. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Donovan said he moved them in here.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, he didn’t move them in here. I thought they were downstairs.”
Daniel frowned. “What in the hell did he do with my things?”
Silence.
“What do you need?” Susan asked, nervously wrapping the tie of her robe around her wrist.
“I don’t need anything.” At her startled look he hurried on, “I mean, I thought I’d wash first.”
“Would you like a nightshirt?”
“What?”
“Donovan doesn’t wear one, I don’t think. But the boys might have something that would work.”
“No. I don’t want a nightshirt.” When she blanched, he hurried on. “I mean …” He sighed. “Oh, hell.”
He didn’t speak for a long time. Susan gestured to the basin and pitcher on the nightstand. “I left you some water. It’s still fairly warm.”
