A Convenient Wife (11 page)

His nod was agreeable, and he did as she bid, scarcely able to take his eyes from her. Rosy cheeks drew his attention, and he carefully kept his eyes from sliding below her neck, aware of the embarrassment she felt at her scarcity of clothing. “If you blow out the candle, I'll finish up in the dark,” he told her, unwilling to strip from his trousers while she watched. Frightening Ellie was the last thing he wanted to do, and one good look at his blatant arousal would likely be enough to send her flying up the stairs.

“All right.” She walked back to the bedside, then bent over the candle, cupping her palm behind the flame to contain her small puff of breath as she extinguished it. As if she awaited further instructions, she stood quietly.

“I usually sleep on this side, if that's all right with you,” Win said, sliding from his drawers under the cover of darkness, and dropping them beside the bed. Getting beneath the
sheet was his first thought. Luring Ellie to join him, there in the comfort of his bed, should be no problem.

Coaxing her from her vest and drawers might be.

She sat down on the edge of the mattress and turned to face him. “I can sleep in my vest, if that's all right. It's long enough, I think.”

“Whatever you want is fine with me,” he told her, even as he considered lifting the garment over her head.

She lowered her drawers, then rose to step out of them. Her feet slid beneath the sheet and she rolled in his direction. “Maybe I should braid my hair. It'll be all tangled by morning.”

“I like it down, Ellie,” he said. His hand scooped it from her neck and brought it forward, allowing the heavy length to cover the front of her vest. “It's like silk, sliding through my fingers.” The cushion of soft flesh tempted him, and his knuckles brushed across the fullness of her bosom.

“You're a tempting creature, sweet,” he murmured, bending to press a tender caress against her forehead.

“I don't mean to be,” she whispered, as though it were a flaw. “My pa said women get in trouble when they flaunt themselves in front of menfolk.”

“You've never done that, honey,” he assured her. “You only tempt me because you're pretty and feminine and, best of all, you're my wife.”

“I like being married to you,” she admitted quietly, tilting her head a bit as his mouth moved across her temple and down the length of her jaw. “I've enjoyed helping in the office, and fixing meals for you.”

“You're going to enjoy this even more,” he promised, his hands careful as he cupped her breasts, his fingers sliding the soft fabric against the skin beneath. “I'm going to slip this over your head,” he warned her, noting the quick catch in her breathing. Gathering the length of the garment, he slid her out
of its folds. He turned back the sheet, exposing her shoulders, smiling as she would have gripped it against herself.

“I'm all naked.” She crossed her arms across the generous curves and he tugged gently at her fingers, lifting them to his mouth, where they relaxed as he brushed countless kisses across her palms.

“How can I tell?” he whispered, a smile apparent in the soft sound. “You don't need to cover up, Ellie. Your beautiful body is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Indeed, she appeared as a figurehead on a ship, he thought, full-breasted, with flowing locks of hair spread across her pillow and shoulders. “I told you I was too big,” she muttered beneath her breath.

He lifted her hands to his neck. “Why don't you hold on to me like this?” he murmured, pleased as she clutched her fingers together at his nape. And then he turned his attention to the full curves she'd tried in vain to conceal. His hands caressed gently, his thumbs brushing across the dark crests, causing them to pucker and tighten.

She whimpered, shifting against him, and he whispered coaxing phrases against her lips, his voice husky with desire.

“You're beautiful, honey.” And she was, he decided. Soft and womanly, modest and unaware of her appeal. He bent then, his mouth open against her flesh, his tongue tasting the sweet flavor of feminine skin, enchanted by her swiftly indrawn breath as he traced the edges of dark, crumpled morsels, touching the peaks with the tip of his tongue.

He suckled gently, and her hips lifted, her legs restless. Soothing her, gentling her to his touch, his hand traveled the length of her body, over the rounding of her hip, coming to rest against the firm curve of her bottom.

“I didn't know it would feel so…” Her voice was choked and her fingers slid through his hair, as if she would hold his head
in place against her breast. Replete with wonder, her words were a sigh, and she shivered, an involuntary movement.

“You like it?” he asked, blowing against her damp skin, pleased as she laughed softly.

“Uh-huh.” It was a softly breathed response, as though her voice could not form words, and she bent her head a bit to kiss his temple, her breath warm as she brushed her mouth across his forehead, whispering his name.

His palm slid the length of her thigh, across her knee, and then back up her leg, to follow the crease where her hip joined her body. She stiffened, trembling as he cupped the soft curls, brushing gently between her thighs. “Let me, Ellie,” he whispered, exerting the smallest bit of pressure.

Her hesitation was minute, and then he felt the relaxing of muscles as she allowed the intrusion of his hand into her most private place. He was gentle, careful with the tender, feminine folds, seeking out that small bit of pleasure-giving flesh. Ellie jolted as his fingertip touched there, and then she was still, her breathing shallow, as if she waited for some great discovery to take place.

He lifted over her, his mouth seeking hers, teeth and lips taking possession as she opened to him. Her tongue met his, darted back, then forward again, to be welcomed as a worthy opponent in the play of flesh against flesh. Whimpering, she inhaled sharply as his touch became firm, bringing her hips into motion.

Win's lips curved. His Ellie was a passionate woman, and he yearned to bring her to fulfillment. He listened carefully, gauging her pleasure as he felt the movement, pacing his caress to the agile thrusting of her hips. And then he felt the hot wash of her release as she whimpered into his mouth, her body arching, seeking the firm pressure of his hand.

She curled against him, capturing his fingers and he en folded her, there where her woman's flesh throbbed in a final pulsing of pleasure.

“Win?” It was a whisper of inquiry, a sigh of unloosed passion, and he was exalted by the knowledge that he had brought her so easily to this place.

His mouth pressed a multitude of kisses against her face, and his words were murmured phrases of admiration for her feminine charms. Smothering himself in the plush beauty of her breasts, he nuzzled them, inhaling the scent of arousal and tasting the salty flavor of her skin. Her hands touched him, fluttering against his shoulders, clutching at his back, and he whispered encouragement as he shifted to lie between her thighs, pleased with her acquiescence to his every coaxing whisper.

Firmly, he lifted one of her knees, and she obliged, sliding it up the length of his leg, then matched it, without prompting, with the other, caging him effectively as he pleasured himself. His breathing harsh, he lifted a bit, allowing his manhood to nudge the soft folds, seeking entrance in the damp sheath.

So carefully she seemed almost unaware of his intent, he pressed into that narrow channel, inhaling sharply as it gloved him, squeezing him as she tightened the muscles that surrounded the firm length of his arousal.

“It doesn't hurt,” she whispered in surprise, and he groaned against her throat, awed by the simple phrase that told him she had expected pain.

“I'll never hurt you, Ellie,” he promised, lifting over her on his forearms, looking down at the vulnerable beauty of the woman who welcomed him into her body. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, and a smile brought beauty to the features she had claimed were but ordinary. Now they shone with pleasure, and he bent to kiss the salty drops from existence, his tongue taking them from her temples.

“I'm not really crying,” she murmured. “I'm happy, Win.”

He could only nod in reply, acknowledging her words, since speech was suddenly beyond his capabilities. The beating of
his heart was a vibration against the walls of his chest, his whole being consumed by the pure ecstacy of claiming the woman he held. Her hips rose to meet him, and he groaned, bending his head, his body bowed as he plunged within her now, without the tenderness he had promised himself to bestow upon her body.

And yet, she did not flinch from him, only flexed her legs around him, whimpering as she rose to his need, offering herself up to him with a cry of exultation that vibrated from her slender body to the firm, demanding thrusting of his loins. He emptied himself, spasms of pleasure flexing him against her, and his groan was deep, dark with the fervent passion he could not contain.

He held her then, trembling in the aftermath of bliss such as he had never known. Rolling with her to his side, he cradled her against his damp flesh, as if she might escape, should he loosen his hold.

“Ellie…Ellie.” His whisper was an incantation in her ear, and she slipped her arm around his waist, holding him with a yearning strength that refused to allow him escape from her grasp. And indeed, he was not willing to release her, craving the blending of soft curves with his male strength, and the warmth of her arms and legs that tangled with his in an embrace that melded their bodies into a single form.

And then he felt the small movement against his stomach, the nudging of a tiny fist or foot, the reminder that Ellie carried a babe within her. Easing her upward, he peered into her face. “You're all right? I wasn't too heavy for you?”

“Oh, no.” She breathed the words, a quick denial of his fear. “You made me feel so good, Win. So warm. I didn't know I could feel such things.” And her hips moved against his as she spoke, as if the mention of her response somehow ignited a small spark of desire within her.

“You made me forget to be careful,” he admitted. “I should have known better than to be that rough with you.” He clasped
her close again, and rocked her in his embrace. “I'm so pleased that you came to me that day.” His lips brushed hers, clinging to the damp surface. “I shouldn't have let you go back home, Ellie. I should have known better than to let your father take out his temper on you.”

“You couldn't have known,” she said quietly. “And it's all right now. He can't touch me anymore.” She lay quietly, and he felt the movements of the child she carried, softly shifting against her flesh, the minute ripples of her skin telling of each twist and turn of the life within.

“This will be my child,” he told her. “As if I had put it there, Ellie. No one will ever dispute that. No one.”

“Y
ou had no right to marry the girl. She's going to have my child.”

The young man's handsome features were marred by a sullen look that drew his mouth up in a sneer, and the older woman by his side was obviously nudging him along as he laid claim to Ellie.

“I had every right,” Win said mildly, leaning back in his desk chair. Keeping an ear tuned to the soft, subtle noises in the house, he prayed fervently that Ellie would remain in the yard, tending her drying laundry, until he was able to settle this mess. With heavy frost the night before, she might not last long in the cold and this was something he hoped to keep her from hearing.

Tommy Jamison paced to the window and turned to face Win, his hands clasped behind his back. Darting a quick glance at his mother, he began another diatribe. “Ellie doesn't love you. She's always loved me. It was a mistake, our moving away when we did. If you weren't afraid of losing a housekeeper, you'd give me five minutes alone with her. That's all it would take to convince her to leave here and go back to Philadelphia with me.”

His jaw jutted forward and his eyes narrowed, as if he had been coached in presenting a threatening posture. And then his eyes shifted uneasily. “I had no idea she was carrying my baby.”

Win watched as crimson streaks stained Tommy's cheeks, proclaiming his words a downright lie. The boy, and he was a boy, Win had already decided, was under his mother's thumb. He needed to stand on his own two feet and grow up before he went looking for a wife.

It made no matter. Whatever reason the woman had for this jaunt, it was doomed to failure. With a resigned sigh, Win aimed a direct look in Marie Jamison's direction. “I don't know what makes you think you have any claim to Ellie or her child, ma'am. But you're sadly mistaken in your pursuit.”

Mrs. Jamison inhaled, increasing her ample bosom in generous increments. “There's no mistake, sir. We've come to take the Mitchum girl home with us. She and Tommy can be married after we reach Philadelphia.” She sniffed, holding a handkerchief to her nose, as if the odor of medicine and disinfectant lingering in the office was abhorrent to her. “We have
family
back East.” She waved a hand in a grand gesture. “Eleanor will be exposed to society.”

Absolutely the epitome of success, Win thought dourly, thinking of his own beginnings. But he smiled, his mouth forming a polite grimace. “I'm sure that's important to you. However, I'm not certain that Ellie is much interested in such things.” He'd almost…almost lay odds on it, he thought, especially after the past several weeks, during which she'd found her place in his bed on a nightly basis.

And then his attention snapped back to the woman who presented a threat to the young woman he'd taken as his bride.

“I'd rather not get the law involved,” Mrs. Jamison said, leaning forward, her tone denying the claim. “But I will if it becomes necessary.”

Win cast a puzzled look at the woman. “Now, just how do
you propose to find any legalities to pursue in this matter? Ellie is my wife, all neat and tidy. We were married almost two months ago, by a minister, and with witnesses. And I have a marriage certificate that will validate my claim.”

He rose from his desk, his gaze level as he turned to Tommy. “You kept company with my wife over a short period of time, didn't you?”

“You know damn well I did,” the young man huffed. “Ellie won't deny that.”

“No,” Win answered mildly. “I don't think she will, although I'm sure she regrets the fact.”

“If she'd told me she was having my child, I'd have married her right off the bat,” Tommy blustered.

“Really?” Win drew out the single word in a disbelieving tone, and then his glance sharpened and touched on Marie Jamison. “Why did you move from here so quickly, Mrs. Jamison?”

“There was an opportunity for my husband in Philadelphia,” she announced, as if the words had been part of a script. “An opening in the family business was offered and he accepted the position.” Her eyes darted from Win to Tommy, her eyes flashing a warning to the younger man.

“And, now,” Win began slowly, “why did you come back here?”

Mrs. Jamison lifted her chin in an imperious manner. “Tommy realized he'd made a mistake in not marrying the girl. He persuaded me to come with him, to make the trip as a chaperon for Miss Mitchum on the return trip.”

Something was not on the up-and-up, and beyond the fact that both his visitors were telling tall tales, Win was certain some ulterior motive drove them to their actions. The slamming of the back screen door reached his ears, and he ignored the sound.

Not so the woman before him.

“Is that the girl?” she asked, shooting a silent command in Tommy's direction.

“Don't move,” Win commanded, his steps long as he blocked the doorway. Tommy stood hesitantly in the center of the office, peering back at his mother as if awaiting instructions. “That
girl,
” Win said, “is my wife. She has a name. I believe you've labeled her as
that girl
half a dozen times in the past fifteen minutes. And that,” he said firmly, “is an insult to the woman I married.”

“I want to see her,” Tommy said, stalking across the room to stand before Win. He had to look up a considerable distance, and his brow furrowed. “You can't stop me from talking to Ellie.”

“How old are you, son?” Win asked, a sense of pity overcoming his growing anger. The boy didn't stand a chance, but it was obvious he was wriggling on the end of strings, and his mother held the controls.

“Thomas's age has nothing to do with this,” Mrs. Jamison said coldly. “He has the right to speak to the…” Her pause was significant. “To Eleanor,” she said, obviously recalling Win's accusation.

Win shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice deepening as he surveyed the woman. “He has no rights at all. This is my office and my home. You are both trespassing on private property.”

“Win?” From the back of the house, Ellie's spoke his name, and he clenched his jaw.

“That's her now,” Tommy said, his cheeks again flushing with emotion as he pressed closer to Win. “Ellie?” He called her name loudly, and from the back of the house there was only the echo of his voice to be heard.

Win clamped one hand in Tommy's shirt and lifted the youth to his toes. His words snarled past bared teeth, and he knew an anger such as had never possessed him in his life.
“Listen to me, boy, and listen well. You walk out that front door and you keep your…” He hesitated, unwilling to speak the words that begged utterance.

With exaggerated civility, he lowered Tommy to the floor, and brushed one hand over the front of his shirt. “Take your mother and leave. I won't tell you again.”

His jaw clenched tightly as Win backed from the office and pointed toward the paneled entrance door. Through its glass panes, the sun shone and the last leaves of autumn fluttered past, blowing on the wind that promised a wintery blast before morning. A facsimile of that chill breeze touched Win's spine, and he was frozen by the fear that clutched at his heart.

Tommy and his mother walked from the office, across the hallway and out the door, and still Win stood poised in the center of the wide corridor. What if…? He could not bear to consider the thought of Ellie turning from him to the man who had fathered her babe. And yet—

“Win?”

He turned to face her, and his heart melted. Fear etched her features, leaching the joy from her eyes, turning her cheeks pale, and she fought tears, rubbing one fist against her mouth. He held open his arms, and then was struck by the fear of rejection. It wasn't fair to her, he realized, not to allow her the choice. And so, his hands dropped, sliding into his trouser pockets, and he watched as she stepped toward him, then halted.

“That was Mrs. Jamison, wasn't it?”

His answer was stark. “Yes.”

“What did she want after all this time?”

“You.” He watched, noting the pinched expression she wore. “Tommy was with her,” he said. “Didn't you see him?”

She shook her head. “No, I came out of the kitchen as she stepped through the door, onto the porch. I thought I heard voices, heard someone call for me…” Her words trailed off and her eyes were wary.

“They came to bring you an offer, Ellie.”

“An offer?” She looked puzzled. “What sort of offer?”

“Tommy came here to see you. He wants to marry you and take you back East to Philadelphia with him. Introduce you to
society.
” The final word was spoken as if it were distasteful in his mouth.

“Society?” She repeated the word. “I can't seem to think straight, Win. What are you talking about? I'm married to you.”

Her hand curved against the rounding of her pregnancy as she took one step toward him, and then she faltered, her eyes enormous. “I don't—” She swayed and he realized with a jolt that she was on the verge of collapse.

Two long steps took him within touching distance, and he caught her as she fell, watched as her eyes rolled back, and her breath left her lungs in a soft sigh. She was slim, but solid, and he lifted her carefully, shifting her in his arms, angling her through the doorway into the kitchen.

Easing onto a chair, he held her limp form against himself, whispering her name. “Ellie.” He bent his head, brushing his mouth across her forehead, his lips touching the dewy perspiration dampening her cold brow.

At the back door a knock sounded, James called Win's name, as he opened the door. “What's going on?” he asked. “I thought I—” And then, as he caught sight of the scene before him, he pulled the door open and stepped inside. “Is she all right?” He moved closer and bent low over Ellie's still form. “What's wrong with her, Win?”

“She's had a shock. Can you dampen a towel for me?”

“Yeah, sure,” James said, moving quickly to do as he was bid. “Why don't you take her on into your bedroom or the parlor? I'll be right behind you.”

Win stood, lifting Ellie carefully, and walked through the dining room, turning to his bedroom. He placed her atop the quilt, tugging a pillow beneath her head.

“Here you go,” James said, offering the towel. “Is there trouble?” he asked, his attention on Ellie's face.

“I'd say so,” Win told him. “Mrs. Jamison showed up here, with young Tommy in tow. It seems the boy had a change of mind, and decided he wants to be a father after all.”

“What did Ellie say to that?” James asked carefully, his tone level, as if he withheld judgment.

“I didn't give them a chance to talk to her.” Win sat by her side, wiping her forehead, brushing her hair back from the clean line of her brow. “Maybe it wasn't fair of me not to let her listen to what they had to say.”

“Don't be a damn fool,” James said bluntly. “That boy walked out and left her holding the bag. She'd have been up the creek without a paddle if you hadn't stepped in.”

“Yeah. But he's back.” He turned to look up at James. “She must have cared for him once. And now I've settled it without her making a choice. Do I have the right to make that decision for her?”

“I can't answer that,” James said. “I think the bigger question is, how do you feel about the whole thing?”

 

Ellie's head swam with voices, and she struggled to call out, her words captured in her throat. Her fingers refused to obey her will, as did her eyes as she tried to open them. Stirring, she shifted her head, wincing against the sunlight streaming through the window.

James was there. She knew his voice, heard a harsh note in the words he spoke, and held her breath as his query vibrated through her mind.
“How do you feel about the whole thing?”

Beside her, the mattress sagged and she sensed the nearness of a warm body, the touch of a hand against her face. And then Win spoke.

“I won't stand in her way. It has to be what Ellie wants.”

She sucked in a breath. If those were the words of a man
smitten to the core with his bride, she'd eat her hat. Her eyes fluttered, then opened, and she met Win's gaze.

“I think I'd like a drink of water, please,” she whispered.

He nodded, rising at once. “I'll be right back, Ellie.” With a look in James's direction, Win walked from the room.

“I'd send Kate over,” James said, “but I've just taken the baby in for her to nurse.”

“She doesn't need to be coming here, James,” Ellie told him. “She's due at the school before long.”

“I'll leave you in Doc's hands then,” he said. Offering a grin and a two-fingered salute as he backed from the room. “Take care, you hear?”

She nodded, and frowned, trying to organize her thoughts. The voices had been strident, catching her attention as she left the clothes basket inside the back door. Like a bad dream, she'd caught the sound of Tommy's voice, that petulant sound he'd affected more than once when things weren't going as he pleased.

The dim light in the kitchen had caught her off guard after the bright sunshine in the yard, and she'd felt a wave of dizziness sweep through her. Opening the kitchen door into the long hallway, she'd called for Win, needing his presence, her heart racing as if some great calamity were hovering overhead.

And then she'd faltered, ears buzzing, eyes blurring as again her name was spoken. The sight of billowing skirts and a woman flouncing out the door had confused her, as had Win's face as he turned to her.

What had he said? Mrs. Jamison came to make her an offer? Was that it? And Tommy? He'd been there, too?

She closed her eyes, recalling Win's words, his answer to James.
“I won't stand in her way.”

Perhaps Win would be relieved if she left, taking the burden of another man's child with her. And yet, he'd been so— What was the right word? she wondered, remembering the nights since he'd taken her to his bed, claiming her body
with tenderness, his arms holding her throughout the night hours.