A Convenient Wife (29 page)

Not a trace of envy marred her smile as she spoke the words, and Win was struck by the urge to drag her to her feet
and carry her off to the wide bed they'd only recently risen from. If only she were healed from childbirth, he thought. And then brushed the errant thought from his mind. It would be another couple of weeks before Ellie was fit for what he had in mind, and he'd best skedaddle from the house before he gave in to his masculine urges. Perhaps by Christmas….

His hands were tender as he bent to her, his mouth less than urgent as he kissed her, there amid the tissue and open boxes of ornaments and tinsel. And she responded with the eagerness he'd come to expect from her, her hands clasping his forearms, her mouth returning the caress he offered. “Be careful today,” she urged him, and then looked out the window where snow drifted in a lazy fashion past the frosted panes.

“Are you going to use the new sleigh?” she asked, and he thought she looked expectant as her eyes took in the wintry look of things outdoors.

“I had Lionel uncover it last week,” Win said. “I knew we'd need it for going to church come Sunday.” He drew on his coat and buttoned it, then searched in the pockets for his heavy gloves. “Are you sure you're going to feel up to it?”

Her head swiveled in his direction. “Of course, I'll be up to it. I've been planning this for weeks. Since before your mother left, in fact.”

He fingered the brim of his hat, reluctant to leave her. “You'll be all right?” he asked.

“I'll be fine, once I have a tree to put this stuff on,” she said, lifting a length of tinsel and admiring it in the light from the window.

“Today,” he promised. “I'll stop by Birdie's place and leave a message.”

 

The dining room table was laden with pies and cakes, the kitchen filled with the scent of roasting turkey and the pungent smell of dressing. Ellie took a last glance around and lifted the
precious bundle from the cradle. “I think I'm ready,” she said, her tone absentminded, as if her thoughts were scattered.

“You didn't have to make enough food to feed the whole town,” Win said with a grin. “If I didn't know Ethel and the ladies from church had helped I'd be downright upset with you, Ellie. You've worked too hard at this.” Kettles on the stove were pushed to the back, their contents simmering, and several loaves of bread waited on the buffet, wrapped in clean dish towels.

“It just kinda grew,” she admitted, her cheeks flushed with pleasure as she eyed the preparations for the party. “I'm so excited, Win. And Grace looks so pretty in her dress.”

“So does her mama,” he said quietly, lifting his hand to brush a stray wave from Ellie's forehead. “Now, let's be on our way.”

He loaded her into the sleigh, tucking the lap robe around her legs and over the baby she cradled in her arms. The heavy cashmere cape he'd ordered from Tess had arrived only yesterday, and he admired the velvet trim again, noting the glow of Ellie's skin against the dark-blue fabric. On her feet she wore new boots, their patent leather toes shining almost as nicely as the buttons marching up the side of each boot. She was altogether stunning, he decided, climbing into the sleigh beside her.

Bells jingled in the crisp air as a passing sleigh, pulled by a prancing team of horses, caught his eye. His hand lifted in an automatic salute, as voices called greetings.

“Was that Caleb and Ruth?” Ellie asked, peering after the vehicle.

“Yup. Must be they're going to church, too.” As well he knew, he thought with a sense of satisfaction. Half the town would be dropping by to help in the celebration today, bringing gifts to honor the baby's baptism. Having Ruth there would make Ellie's day complete.

From the enormous Christmas tree at the front of the small
church to the carols that rang from the rafters, it was a Sunday such as Ellie had never known. Grace endured the sprinkling of water on her tiny forehead with only a fluttering of eyelids to denote her surprise. The church was filled to bursting with excited children, who offered verses and poems from beside the tall pulpit, even as their admiring parents watched from the simple pews. And then the congregation listened as the kindly pastor told the familiar story for the benefit of his parishioners.

“There were in the same country, shepherds…” The resonant voice spoke the words with reverence, tinged with joy. Ellie felt Win's hand creep across her lap to grasp her fingers and she looked up at him, aware again of the rare beauty of the man she'd married. He was dressed as a gentleman, yet beneath the formal attire lay the strength and stature of a man fit for the frontier life he'd chosen.

And he belonged to her, to Ellie Gray. Her heart could barely hold the pure joy of this moment, and tears slid from her eyes to fall on the soft blanket she'd wrapped around the baby she held in her left arm.

Win's head tilted toward her, his lips brushing her ear. “Happy Christmas, sweetheart.”

 

The house was filled with friends and neighbors, most of them holding plates of food from the bountiful supply in the dining room, all of them bearing gifts for the new baby. Ellie was given a seat of honor in the parlor, Grace ensconced in the cradle beside her, Ethel having taken over the kitchen. It was no use protesting, she'd found, for several others volunteered to help, and she was only to open packages and admire the assortment of tiny dresses and shawls, sweaters and small booties that filled the tissue-wrapped presents.

The sun had set before the last person departed, and she watched from the front parlor windows as they made their way down the snowy path to the gate. Heading in different
directions, they waved, calling back greetings into the steadily falling snow. Win closed the front door for the last time and entered the wide parlor doors, pausing in the entrance as Ellie turned to him.

“I'll never forget this day,” she said quietly. “It was perfect, wasn't it?”

“Almost,” he said, and walked slowly to where she stood, his gaze admiring the newly slender form of his wife.

“What would make it better?” she asked, her gaze lifting to meet his.

“Holding you in my arms.” Simply spoken, the words touched her heart as had no other gift on this day of bountiful giving. He drew her close and his breath was warm against her face. “Do you know that I have all I've ever wanted in life?”

“Have you?” she asked, tilting her head to one side, the better to see him. “I'm thinking one day we'll have another baby, Win,” she promised. “A son for you.”

His words were steady. “It won't be any more precious than the daughter I already have, Ellie.”

“It will truly be your own child, next time,” she said softly.

“Grace is truly mine.” His words were a tender reproof, and his smile muted their impact. “I could not love her more if I'd been there when she was conceived, Ellie. Mine was the joy of watching her born. It will be the pleasure of seeing her grow, the satisfaction of being called her father. No other child could remove her from the place she's claimed in my heart.”

She felt her throat close with emotion, yet the words begged to be spoken once again and she could not deny them utterance. “I love you, Winston Gray.”

“And I love you, Eleanor Gray.”

“I'm just Ellie,” she said simply. “Just the woman who loves you.”

“You're my whole world,” he said, denying her words. His voice hitched as if his breathing were restricted and she sensed the tears he would not shed. When he spoke again, his words were softer, coaxing and seductive. “And now, if I'm very careful, I think we can celebrate in a special way.”

Releasing her from his touch, he walked to the front window and pulled the draperies together, closing out the twilight. Making his way around the room, he brought the parlor doors together with a soft thud, then blew out the lamp, casting the room into shadows. Only the candles on the Christmas tree lit his way as he returned to her. Ellie watched, her heart quickening as his strong hands lifted her against himself, then lowered her to the carpet beneath the shelter of evergreen branches.

“Are we going to make love?” she asked in a hushed whisper, her hands already busy with the buttons of his waistcoat, and the shirt beneath it. “Will it be all right?”

His nod was her only reply, and then he was tugging at an afghan from the sofa, lifting her to place it beneath her. She did as he asked, turning away as his hands worked at the buttons on her dress, his fingers touching the column of her spine and leaving soft shivers of awareness in their wake. So easily he slid the clothing from her, so gently he arranged her before himself, she was lulled into his spell, could only gaze into the warmth of his eyes and inhale the scent of shaving soap and the male aroma his body exuded.

He slid from his trousers, casting them aside impatiently, then returned to her, his hands refuting the hasty gestures he'd employed while stripping from his clothing. Now they were gentle, tender and unhurried as he prepared her for his taking. His mouth was warm and damp against her skin, his fingers careful as he handled delicate flesh, his words soft and persuasive as he coaxed her along the path he'd set for her to travel.

She followed where he led, more than willing to do as he
bid, her legs enclosing him in their grasp, her hands searching out the places of pleasure she knew would bring groans and murmurs from his lips. It had been long weeks since their last coming together, and Win's heartbeat was heavy against her, his hands trembling as he formed her breasts with his fingers and palms.

And then he sought the source of her pleasure, the delicate tissues of her womanhood, and she lifted to his touch, her body eager for the fulfillment he brought to her needy flesh.

So gently he caressed her, so tenderly he led her, she was aware only of the witchery of clever fingers against delicate flesh. Her eyes opened as the captivating lure of ecstasy to come held her in its thrall, her body quivering with the delight he offered. The candles blurred in her sight, casting a nimbus of light around the head and shoulders of the man hovering over her, and she cried out, a high keening sound that shivered in the silence.

“Ah, Ellie,” he whispered, his breathing harsh as he took her with slow, measured strokes, barely penetrating, yet filling her with the joy of his possession. He shuddered in her arms, bending to press kisses against her face and throat. And she clasped him against herself, unwilling to allow him escape from her embrace.

From the cradle, a soft whimper announced the awakening of her child, and Ellie felt the rush of warmth in her breasts as milk filled her to overflowing. Win chuckled against her throat.

“We woke her.” His words were filled with satisfaction as he lifted himself on his forearms and looked down at the dampness seeping from Ellie's breasts. “You're ready to nurse, aren't you?”

She nodded. “All I have to hear is one peep, and I overflow.”

Reluctantly, he rose, stepped into his trousers and drew
them on, then reached for the cradle. The bundle was small, and he lifted her easily, holding her against his cheek. Grace nuzzled eagerly, and Win's chuckle warmed Ellie's heart. “Your mama has more to offer than I,” he said, his lips brushing myriad kisses across the tiny face.

Ellie sat up, and Win shook his head, snatching a pillow from the sofa and placing it on the afghan. “Stay there and nurse her, why don't you?” He offered the babe into Ellie's arms, then reached for a clean diaper from the cradle. With gentle movements, he placed it where so recently his seed had been spent. Then his hands were deft, wrapping both woman and child within the colorful warmth of the knitted covering. “I'll sort things out,” he murmured, “and then we'll go to bed.”

Too content to protest, feeling pampered and well loved, Ellie could only nod her agreement. She turned to her side and looked down at the babe who had found the nourishment she craved. Her arms cradled the small bundle, and she allowed her gaze to rest on the packages Win had piled beneath the tree. She'd added her own assortment only this morning, and she thought of the precious moments they would share as they opened the gifts together on Christmas morning.

“Thank you, God,” she whispered, her eyes closing in slumber. And never knew when she was lifted and carried from the parlor to the bedroom down the hall, only wakening for a moment as she watched Win pin a fresh diaper in place, then hold baby Grace over his shoulder for a moment before he placed her in the crib beside the bed.

She felt his arms surround her as he gathered her to himself, and she snuggled against his warmth, sighing quietly, repeating the words of thanksgiving again. His voice was a deep rumble in his chest, vibrating against her ear, and she smiled as he whispered his love in her ear.

S
pring came early to Whitehorn. Not so every year, but in all of Ellie's memory, this was the soonest the flowers had made an appearance. With the threat of snow still a possibility, the tiny violets and patches of trillium beneath the trees at the back of Win's yard were bravely facing the elements. She pulled the pine needles from around them and admired the delicate blossoms, enthralled at the sight of such beauty.

“It's too early to be planting a garden,” a voice said from behind her. “Must be you're on the lookout for the gold that's supposed to be buried hereabouts.”

She turned and smiled, clasping the shovel she'd carried around the yard for the past hour. “I think that's nothing but hogwash, Sheriff,” she said with a chuckle. “Anyway, nobody in his right mind would bury gold in my backyard. Ethel told me there's talk that it's somewhere around the saloon, although how she'd know that is beyond me.

“I just couldn't resist turning over a patch of dirt out here, but I'll admit finding gold never entered my mind. A few earthworms seem more likely. Win warned me I was ahead of myself with the gardening.”

“Talk of that gold seems to rear its head every so often,”
James said nonchalantly. “One of these days it may surface. But I'm not gonna hold my breath.”

Ellie looked beyond him to the house next door. “Kate's not home, is she?”

He shook his head. “No. I'm on my way over to the schoolhouse to take her some dinner. Thought I'd bring Tyler back for the afternoon. Things are pretty quiet in town, and I'm taking a couple of hours off.”

“Why don't you plan on having supper with us?” Ellie asked eagerly. “I'm cooking Win's favorite, roast beef.”

“You sure know all the right moves, young lady,” James said with a grin. “We'll be here with bells on. Kate's always ready for a meal at your table.” He shoved his hands deeply into the pockets of his trousers. “Couple of things I need to talk to you about, Ellie. First off, Cilla over at the saloon has disappeared. Some say she ran off with Billy Barnes, but nobody seems to know. I need to hear, should Win catch wind of anything.”

“I thought she was afraid of him,” Ellie said, remembering the pain Cilla had suffered at the hands of the young man. “Do you suppose—”

James cut in quickly. “Not much sense in trying to sort it out, honey. Folks are wondering if the gold you're set on digging up here might not have entered into it.” His grin belied the seriousness of his concern as he gestured at the beginnings of Ellie's garden plot.

And then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I saw your pa in front of the mercantile a while ago, Ellie.”

She moved the shovel restlessly, punching a slice of dried grass into the earth. “Did you now?”

“He asked me if I thought you'd be willing to see him, maybe talk to him.”

An uneasy spasm touched her midriff and her hand flew there, fingers clenching as if she could halt the hope that
blossomed like the flowers at her feet. “What do you suppose he wants?”

James shrugged, yet his posture told her he was not totally relaxed. “Who knows? You won't, unless you speak with him.”

She tried for nonchalance, but her mouth quivered as the words left her throat, and she knew she'd failed, miserably. “I guess I wouldn't mind if he stopped by.”

“I think he wants to see the baby.”

“He told me there wasn't squattin' room for me in his life.” Her tone was bitter as she recalled the man who'd scathingly mocked her.

“Sometimes folks change,” James said quietly. “Maybe you ought to give him a chance, Ellie. See what he has to say.”

 

Hat in hand, George Mitchum stood at the back door, and Ellie thought swiftly of the last time he'd entered her kitchen. Her heart pounded as he stepped past the threshold, and she stood aside, watching as he made his way toward the table, then turned to face her.

“Sheriff Kincaid said you agreed to talk to me, daughter.” His eyes held a wary question in their depths.

“What do you want, Pa?” She thrust her hands deeply into her apron pockets and stood her ground.

“I have a hard time with sayin' certain words, Ellie,” he began. “But I reckon sometimes it's easier to eat crow than live with it stickin' in your craw forever.”

From the corner of the kitchen, a sound caught his attention and his head moved, his eyes scanning the area like a chicken hawk sighting prey. “That the baby?” he asked, his words gruff, his hands clenching into fists as he waited for Ellie's reply.

“Yes, that's Grace,” she said simply. And then her tender heart relented. “Would you like to see her, Pa?”

He nodded, inhaling sharply, and pulled a chair from the
table, sitting down with a thump. “I guess I'd like to. Maybe you'd let me hold her for a minute.”

“Maybe.” Ellie lifted the blanket-wrapped child and gazed deeply into dark eyes. So wise and wonderful she looked, this tiny piece of humanity. So precious and perfect, in her pink wrappings, with delicate features and a mop of dark hair that hung in ringlets across her forehead.

She crossed the floor to her father and placed the bundle in his arms, watching closely as he shifted the babe uneasily for a moment until Grace was settled in the bend of his elbow. And then his head bent and he inspected her small face, touched her arm and then watched with absorbed interest as one infant hand curled around his callused index finger.

“She's kinda little, ain't she?” he asked gruffly. “Grace, did you say her name was?”

“Yes.” Ellie relaxed, leaning against the buffet, watching carefully.

“Your grandma on your mother's side was called Grace.”

“I know. I named her after my grandmother.”

“Your ma would have liked that,” he said, nodding his head a bit as he scrutinized the rosebud mouth that opened, the delicate tongue that touched with dainty skill against a lower lip, then retreated. The small nose wrinkled, and a quiver touched the rounded chin as if Grace recognized that a stranger held her. Her mouth opened again and a muted sound that could have been a prelude to a cry came forth.

“Did I do something wrong?” George asked hastily, glancing up at Ellie and then back down at his granddaughter.

The brown eyes squinted suddenly and then opened wide as the pink lips opened again, this time in an unmistakable smile. Soft cooing noises accompanied the curving lines, and George looked up at Ellie in surprise. “I think she smiled at me.”

“I think she likes you,” Ellie said agreeably. “Listen to her, Pa. She's just learning to make noises.”

It was a scene he would never forget, Win decided, standing in the hallway and watching through the kitchen door, aware that James had been right in his judgment. The thought of Ellie facing her father again was difficult to swallow, but if George Mitchum was truly wanting to mend fences, Winston Gray would not stand in his way. And so he'd come in the front way, to be there should Ellie need him, but willing to stand clear if things went well.

And it seemed they had.

Ellie looked up, as if her inner senses spoke his name, and her eyes lit with a familiar gleam as she caught sight of him. “Come in,” she said, waving him forward. “My father came to meet his granddaughter.”

“So I see,” Win said amiably, pushing his coat aside and tucking his hand into his pocket. “And does he approve?” The words were aimed at George and held a challenge that was unmistakable in its strength.

The older man looked up, acknowledging Win's presence. “How could I help but approve. She looks like her mama, don't she?”

“And how do you feel about her mama?” Win asked quietly, aware of Ellie's stricken features as he spoke the words.

“I hope her mama's able to forget all the harm I did to her,” George said bluntly. “It's lonesome out there on the ranch, and it was a long winter. I did a heap of thinking, sittin' every night by myself.”

“And?” Win's voice did not waver, even as he cast Ellie a warning look.

“I come to make peace with my girl, Dr. Gray.”

“And is she willing to accept your apology?” He looked at Ellie again, and his arms ached to hold her, even as he knew she must make her own choices. And so he waited.

“We need all the family available, Pa,” she said finally. “I guess I'm willing to put the past where it belongs.”

“I'll settle for that,” George said, inhaling deeply, as if a load had been lifted from his soul.

“Maybe you'd like to stay for supper?” Ellie asked. “James and Kate are coming over, too.”

He shook his head. “Not this time, daughter. Ask me again, if you want to. I need to be heading home. We've got a whole herd of cows dropping calves right and left, and I need to be there.”

“All right. I'll ask you again,” Ellie said, looking to Win as if for reassurance that she'd done the right thing.

He nodded his agreement, and she smiled, a tremulous movement of her lips that touched him to the depths. “You're welcome here, Mr. Mitchum,” he said, adding his own words of acceptance.

George cleared his throat. “Well, I'd better be on my way, I reckon. I'll stop by again, Ellie.” His hands tightened a bit on the bundle he held, and then he looked up at his daughter. “Thank you.”

Ellie took the baby and eased her upright, patting the small back and waiting as her father rose and headed for the back door. There were a few awkward moments as George pulled the door open and stepped onto the porch, then looked back at the couple who watched him. His nod was brief, his teeth biting into his bottom lip as he turned away, and Win stepped forward to close the door behind him.

“What do you think?” he asked Ellie, careful to keep his voice neutral, not wanting to influence her mind.

“I think my daughter has just met her grandpa,” she told him, a hint of happiness lighting her features. “I don't have it in me to bear him a grudge, Win. I just can't.”

“I know,” he said, crossing to where she stood, baby held between them as he circled her with his arms and drew the two females he loved against himself. “I know, sweetheart. And I'm pleased for you.”

“Spring is coming, Win,” she said after a moment. “The
wildflowers are blooming at the back of the yard. I think this is going to be a good year, don't you?”

His nod was brief, and he bent his head to press kisses against her temple. “The best yet, honey. The very best.” As always, his body responded to her, to the scent and feel of the child-woman he'd taken to wife, and he groaned as he thought of the hours before he would take her to himself once more.

“Win?” she asked, her eyes twinkling as she peered up at him. “Do you have a problem? Can I help?”

He shook his head. “Nothing I can't handle, love.” He glanced up as James knocked on the back door, Kate behind him, and his grin was wide as he bent to deposit a long kiss on her mouth.

“Just hold that thought till our dinner guests go home.”