by Kelly Long
* * *
Ella knew he was watching her, and she shivered in the warmth of his blue-green gaze. He was lying on the floor, his shirt off, as he leaned his head up on one elbow. A bunch of quilts were tangled around his waist, and as Ella turned to comb through a difficult tendril, he suddenly got to his feet.
“Let me help you,” he said hoarsely.
She nodded, not knowing what to expect. But then he climbed on the bed behind her and pulled her back between his bent knees. She shivered again in her thin white nightgown as the warmth of his wool-clad thighs penetrated through to her hips.
He took the comb from her with gentle fingers, then deftly began to work it through her hair.
Ella looked into the mirror above the dresser and saw them illuminated by kerosene lamplight. Stephen looked beautiful, his tan skin making hers appear all the more pale. Ella savored the lean line of his rib cage and the curve of his hip. His suspenders were down, and she watched the fascinating line of white skin near his waist as he arched to better get at the front of her hair. She longed to touch him there, along that stretch of white, where his tan didn’t extend; her fingers curled in her lap and she dropped her gaze from the mirror.
She’d never really seen Jeremy’s body—it had all been a rush, a rustling removal of clothes, more groping and far less intimate than the act Stephen was performing now for her. She cleared her throat.
“I didn’t know men could do this,” she murmured.
He put his hands gently on her shoulders and peered around to face her so that she was eye level with his mouth. “Do what?” he asked.
She wet her lips and thought about kissing him. “Hair . . . you know.”
He smiled, and she smiled back in easy reaction.
“Ach, I can do a lot of things that might surprise you, Ella Nichols.”
She felt herself flush and then he kissed her on the nose, leaving her feeling both flustered and confused.
He moved behind her again and returned to his combing, and Ella relaxed slowly under his careful hands, dreamily wondering if this was how he would make love . . .
* * *
He was making love to her, assuaging his frantic hunger with deep movements that cost him his breath and made his blood throb. Her breathy cries raked the periphery of his senses and he rolled to his back so that he might prolong their pleasure. But she moved atop him; subtle, confident—tightening so that he arched his back and barely swallowed the scream that came from low in his throat.
Stephen jerked upright, gasping, and felt the nacht breeze from the screened window cross his sweat-soaked skin. He looked over to see Ella sleeping peacefully on the bed and he lay back down in slow degrees, feeling that his fantasies and dreams about her were getting out of hand . . .
Chapter Fifteen
Ella lay in the bed and listened to the rain on the cabin roof. Stephen had obviously left the room before she awoke, as his quilts were folded neatly on a ladder-back chair. She wondered what exactly to do, feeling her stomach rumble when the bedroom door was eased open. Stephen entered, carrying a tray, and she sat up in bed, feeling suddenly hungry.
“Oh, thank you,” she murmured, smiling at him. “I was about to come looking for food.”
“Gut. It means the baby is healthy, I would imagine.” He gently settled the tray on her lap, then sat down on the edge of the bed.
She studied his handsome profile for a moment. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his dark head. “Nothing. Eat your toast.”
She reached out and touched his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Stephen, I know you—I think . . . I trust you. Please, what’s wrong?”
He looked up at her, his beautiful eyes blue-green and earnest. “I hate to ask you, but it would make sense . . . Would you mind dressing as an Amish woman does? It would allow you to blend in with the community—the better to hide your existence here. Joel stopped by with a few of Martha’s things that you might use.”
“Of course I will, Stephen.” She sat back and took a bite of buttered toast, feeling glad that she could ease his mind. Then she gave him a saucy smile. “You’ll have to show me how to put them on correctly, you know.”
His answering grin was wolfish, and her toes curled in pleasure beneath the mound of quilts.
“I’d be glad to be of service—and I think, Ella Nichols, that you’re flirting with me.”
She wanted to look away from his warm smile but couldn’t as she finished off the toast.
A brusque knock on the door interrupted their wordplay, and Ella nearly jostled the tray. Stephen rose and opened the latch; then Ella saw his long back straighten. She had thought it was his mother, but she didn’t recognize the voice spouting a torrent of angry Penn Dutch from outside the room. Then Stephen closed the door abruptly and turned back to the bed.
“My aenti Esther at her most pleasant,” he muttered, and Ella saw the tenseness around his mouth.
“Is that your mother’s sister?”
“Jah,” he sighed, reaching a hand to rub the back of his neck.
Ella thought for a quick moment. “Stephen—your mother was quite kind to me last night; perhaps your aunt needs some kindness herself—I mean—not from you, but I can—”
“You don’t have to do anything, Ella. I won’t have you stressed by trying to deal with her bitterness—it might hurt the baby. We’re leaving this morning.”
“Leaving? But I thought you said it was safe here.” Against her will, her voice quavered, and he came to kneel beside the bed.
“It is safe on Ice Mountain, but I know a better place where we can stay that is even farther back in the woods.”
“A cave?” she questioned dubiously, and he laughed, his good humor visibly renewed.
“Nee, sweetheart. A cabin. It belonged—to a friend of mine. He’s gone now, but he would have wished us to stay there. I’ll get Joel and geh and fix anything that’s in disrepair, and you can visit a friend of ours, May Miller—she’s the healer on the mountain.”
“All right,” Ella agreed, still doubtful.
Then he lifted the tray from her lap and leaned forward to kiss her, and her world calmed into perspective. She trusted him to keep her safe . . .
* * *
Viola Lambert tried to let her sister’s spiteful words fall away like the rain did from the slanted roof of the cabin. But the rain brings new growth and nourishment, while my sister’s words only make my bones feel brittle . . . She swallowed a sigh and looked once more to the bedroom door where her sohn and Ella Nichols were staying. Esther must have tracked Viola’s gaze, because she put the teakettle down with a loud thump.
“And what are they doing in there? Fornicating, no doubt, while we wait outside and give them privacy for their lusts.”
“They had a long hike up the mountain yesterday—perhaps they—she still needs rest.” Viola’s voice shook a bit in this rare contradiction of Esther and she sought to steady it. “I hope es bobbel is well.”
“Bah—pregnant and unwed—what wellness could there be for a baby in this? Viola, you are growing soft just because your addlepated sohn chose to kumme back to your home . . . The buwe is as worthless as his fater was, and you know—”
Suddenly, Esther’s words faded as Viola was struck by a distinct memory of Stephen’s fater, Ben. My husband. My lover—who would freely kiss me no matter who was about . . . She put a hand up to touch her cold lips with tentative fingers, then nearly jumped as Stephen opened the bedroom door and came into the kitchen with a beautiful woman dressed in Amish clothing behind him . . .
* * *
“Mamm . . . Aenti Esther . . . doesn’t Ella look well in Amish dress?” Stephen asked, keeping his voice low. “Ella, meet my aenti Esther, by the way.” He automatically stepped in front of Ella, wanting no malevolence from his aenti to touch her or the babe.
Before Ella or Esther could speak, Stephen addressed his mother. “Mamm, after consideration, we thank you for the room, but I fear E
lla must have an even more remote place to rest in safety. I’m going up the mountain to—Dan’s—to my auld cabin.”
He ignored the strangely stricken look on his mamm’s face and took Ella by the hand. “The rain has slowed. We’ll head out now.”
“Thank you for breakfast, and it was—nice—to meet you, Aenti Esther.” Ella spoke quietly, but his aenti remained cold and silent, as did his mamm.
Stephen exhaled once they were free of the heavy atmosphere of the cabin.
He took a few steps, his arm around Ella, and stopped to listen to the soft raindrops pattering on the canopy of leaves overhead. Even if he hadn’t asked for Gott’s blessing, he felt renewed in his spirit by the touch of Gott’s Hand on the place, and he began to walk with Ella, pausing now and then to consider why he felt so satisfied seeing her in Amish dress.
“What is it?” she asked. “Do I look strange?” She put a hesitant hand to the kapp on her neatly coiled red hair.
“Nee, you look—nice.”
“Nice?” She frowned. “I guess that’s good.”
He smiled and shook his head. How can I tell her that she’s the most enticing thing I’ve ever seen? He let his gaze roam over her in the Amish dress of blue that she wore with its white apron. He had intimate knowledge of where each straight pin was placed against her fair skin, even though he’d only given verbal directions as to the dressing, not trusting himself to touch her. Now, as the rain picked up a bit, he stopped and nestled her close, wanting to feel the baby kick again and to drink Ella in like fine blackberry wine during a summer’s moist heat.
But then she shivered. He realized he was risking her health by keeping her out in the wet weather, and he caught her right hand in a firm grip. They ran, laughing and breathless, through the wooded paths to May Miller’s cabin, but no one answered his knock.
“Kumme,” he shouted over what had become a downpour. “The healer’s cabin is always unlatched.”
He tugged the handle and they both practically fell inside as the storm became a subdued roar. Stephen listened to Ella working for breath, and without preamble, he began to pull pins from her wet clothes.
“Stephen!” She gasped as her apron fell away. “What are you doing?”
“Undressing you.” He slid another pin from its place. “I’m not looking. I just want you dry.”
Ella giggled, her teeth chattering, then stepped lightly away from him when he tried to slip her dress over her head. “I can manage. Suppose the healer lady comes back?”
“She’ll agree with me that you should be dry and warm.”
She curtsied in front of him. “Very well. But what about you? You’re wet too.” She stepped toward him quickly and tugged one suspender down.
He was amazed at how fast the mood changed for him; desire flared through him at her playfulness, and he took a step closer to her. “Yes, I am wet outside, but inside, I’m suddenly very hot.”
She met his gaze and he saw an answering heat in her dark eyes that turned him upside down. He caught her next to him and shivered as her slender fingers teased his other suspender off his shoulder . . .
Chapter Sixteen
Ella loved the moment when his thick lashes lowered, shielding his sea-colored eyes. She knew then that he was deep in the act of kissing her, not concentrating on anything else. She returned his kisses with innocent fervor, even running the tip of her tongue across his lips. But she was unprepared for the reaction her subtle gesture produced in him.
“Ach, Ella,” he groaned. “Sei se gut—I want—” He broke off his words to snatch ruthlessly at his shirt, and she heard the faint sound of pins hitting the hardwood floor. She wanted to help him, but he’d already thrust the fabric off his body, and she reveled in the sight of his bare chest. It was then that she noticed he was bleeding from a thin scratch near his lean ribs.
“Stephen, one of the pins scratched you.”
“I don’t care,” he muttered, and she had to smile as he bent to claim her lips once more. Then some instinctive response came to her and she pulled from him slightly to bend and lick at the brief scratch on his tan skin. She felt him shudder and delighted in the power she knew at that moment to arouse him.
His movements grew frantic, and she yielded gladly as he nudged her up to the kitchen table. She thought she might soon feel the hard oak beneath her back and was breathless at the notion, but he turned suddenly, gracefully, and then she was atop him on the table. She placed her hands on his shoulders for balance and bent to begin kissing him once more.
She soon lifted her head though when she realized that the cabin door latch had clicked and was quickly opened. Ella stared into the eyes of the other woman with fascinated embarrassment.
“Well, Stephen Lambert.” The woman smiled briefly. “You make an interesting centerpiece, but I must ask you politely to dress.”
Ella was surprised to feel Stephen’s broad shoulders shake with laughter as he sat up and caught her close. “My apologies, May. Please meet Ella Nichols.”
There was no way Ella could imagine scrambling off the table, so she smiled lamely and gave her greetings instead.
* * *
“One nacht?” Joel asked in faint exasperation, and Stephen shrugged. The two friends were up in the high timber, at old Dan’s abandoned cabin, making minor repairs to the relatively snug little place. The sound of the rain pattering on the carpet of leaves beneath his feet was soothing to Stephen, and he enjoyed the occasional breaks of companionable silence between himself and Joel as they checked the foundation.
“I’ll not have Ella and the baby subjected to those women’s negativity. I know you told me to stay there, Joel, with my mamm and aenti, but one nacht was about all I could handle.”
“So how did you and Ella meet?” Joel’s tone was casual as he changed the subject, and Stephen shrugged.
“She was in a fire. I helped her out.”
“Why do I think there is a little bit more to the story?”
Stephen half smiled. “I’m a fireman. It’s what I do.”
“You’re also part of this Amish community. Do you plan on staying for any length of time? We could always use someone familiar with fire on Ice Mountain.”
“I don’t know, Joel. I’ll stay as long as it keeps Ella safe.” He knelt to inspect a small hole in the foundation and pulled together the materials to fix it.
Stephen got down on his knees, and Joel leaned against the side of the cabin.
“What do you say we take a break after this before we clean the inside of the cabin?”
“So you can preach to me?” Stephen smiled ruefully up at his friend.
“I am the bishop hereabouts.”
“How could I forget? All right, I’ll take the preaching, but we’ll sweeten the deal with me getting the lion’s share of your wife’s strawberry pie from that lunch you brought.”
“Done!” Joel pledged and Stephen sighed aloud.
* * *
Ella had resumed most of her composure as she sat down to tea with the healer of Ice Mountain, May Miller. Ella averted her gaze from the kitchen table and concentrated instead on the naturally sweet rose tea her hostess had served her.
“The tea is lovely, thank you. And I—I’m sorry for my—our—behavior earlier.” Ella once more looked away from the hickory plank table.
“You’re impulsive, but I’m sure Stephen can be—compelling,” May said quietly, and Ella nodded. It was difficult to disagree with this other woman, who appeared young but had wise old dark eyes. And I am impulsive, which is why I’m pregnant . . .
“There is no room for shame when you are going to bring a new life into the world.” May smiled as she sipped her tea.
Ella blinked back sudden tears as she once more felt that she was understood on some deep level by a person she barely knew. She shrugged uncomfortably. “I know—I guess. Sometimes I wonder what my father would say . . .”
“Your Fater in heaven created this life in your womb.”
&
nbsp; “I haven’t thought about that much.” Ella felt her spirits lift. “It is amazing to think that God would be so gracious to me—I’m the least likely person to know Him very well.”
“Grace is a gift from Derr Herr—free to all.”
“Yes. I’ll have to remember that.” Ella felt a sense of peace come over her, and she became suddenly quite drowsy.
May rose from the table and took her hand. “Kumme. Carrying the babe makes you tired. You can nap in my bed.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Ella said with a yawn, but then conceded. “Well, maybe for few minutes.”
The healer led her into the next room, and soon Ella was slipping into a pleasant lassitude in the folds of a soft featherbed, barely noticing when May drew the quilts over her.
* * *
The bark and moss were damp on the surface of the large fallen tree that made a perfect seat to eat lunch and talk. Stephen, as promised, was offered a larger piece of Martha’s sweet strawberry pie, but he shared evenly just the same. He enjoyed the hearty ham sandwiches on homemade bread with their sharp bite of ground horseradish and the sweet macaroni and potato salad portions. He wondered what Ella was doing back in the healer’s cabin, then suppressed the thought when he caught Joel’s eye.
“I miss Martha during the day too,” the bishop pointed out.
Stephen rolled his eyes. “You were going to preach to me, remember? Not talk about women.”
“Right . . . So, this coming Sunday is church meeting. I’d like both you and Ella to be there—if she’s feeling up to it. I’ve decided that the best thing we can do to protect her is to tell the whole story to the community after the service.”
“You’re probably right, but uh, you forget, my friend, that there are probably those who would prefer to see me shunned for leaving the mountain to firefight. It—will be hard to get up in front of everybody.”
Joel nodded slowly. “Jah, but just say the truth that’s on your heart, and all will be well.”
