Amish Heart (Erotic Romance) (Amish Heart Trilogy) (6 page)

Rebekah sat on the wooden floor of the room she shared with her sisters, alone, tears streaking down her face.  In front of her was her dowry chest nearly full of linens with lace crocheted around them, Depression era glassware, silverware
, and quilts, all placed there in anticipation of married life, in anticipation of happiness.  Now none of it meant anything. 
Nothing
.  Rebekah hugged herself tightly, her body wracked with silent sobs. 
Oh dear God, I wish Ezekiel were Nick.  Why couldn’t he be Nick?
  The injustice grated sharply upon her. 
Is it fair to be kissed like Nick kissed me and then be subject to marry anyone else, but especially Ezekiel?
  Then she thought of the martyrs of her people.  They each suffered greatly.  Her dilemma might be fair in comparison, but it certainly wasn’t mercy
.  It isn’t right!
  She screamed inwardly. 

Ezekiel had showed up again, merely days after that kiss, violently shaking Rebekah out of her dream. 
I can’t have Nick.  I’ll never have Nick
.  He had met her with his icy stare and simply asked for her father.  Not a “How are you,” or “How are the wedding plans coming.”  Nothing.  He just eyed her in stony silence and, upon his meeting with her father, Rebekah overheard something about them sharing the van to Wisconsin. 
Holy shit, as Nick would say
.  Now she would not be able to talk to Nick at all, she would always be under the observation of her husband-to-be. 
Can’t Father see how much I hate that man!
  She silently raged, holding Ezekiel’s repugnant image in her mind.

Then she tried to calm herself, telling herself the words she had conveyed to Nick. 
“Liking someone is not necessary for an Amish marriage.”
  Oh, how damnable those words were now!  Her tears slowing to a trickle, she reached out and fingered the delicate lace of a napkin, of which she had so painstakingly worked on what seemed ages ago, before she knew what agony could be like.  She tried to imagine the occasion she would use the napkin.  Whatever it would be, there would be Ezekiel with his surly face and corpulent Mother Yoder, sneering down upon her. 
Whatever occasion, it won’t be one of my choosing.  It won’t be a happy one. 

Maybe it was that she no longer revered her wedding day as something to be joyful about
or maybe it was that she needed to be able to exert a tiny bit of control in her life.  Whatever the reason was, Rebekah pulled the napkin out of the chest, shook out its neat folds and resoundingly blew her nose in it.

1:04 a.m.

With a sinking heart, Rebekah assisted with getting packages of food ready for the trip to Wisconsin.  She would be with Nick two whole days but be unable to talk to him, to kiss him, to touch him.  All the while she was there with him in Wisconsin she would be under the keen gaze of Ezekiel, who watched her incessantly when they were together.  Furthermore, Leah would be alert to anything that passed between Nick and her. 
Rebekah wanted nothing more than to flee her circumstances and find someplace safe where they could be alone.  But such was not to be the case, she knew.  One thing about an Amish wedding:  there were always people everywhere, talking, laughing, celebrating
.  Watching,
Rebekah though disconsolately.  She could already feel eyes upon her as her own marriage to Ezekiel was bantered about and it filled her with pure loathing.

2:00 a.m. 

Nick’s van pulled up outside and Rebekah picked up a box and walked hurriedly out to meet him.  There sat Ezekiel and his family. 
Shit!  Damnable shit!
   She had wanted so much to hide behind the van for a quick kiss. 
Damn Ezekiel!
  But Nick just beamed at her and led her to the rear of the van where he opened the door.  Rebekah placed her package inside and moving close, Nick caught her hand and gave it a squeeze.  “It will be ok,” he whispered.  She smiled at that and then got in through the side of the van, sitting behind Ezekiel’s Mother and Polly, whose sloppy selves took up the entire second row. 

Nick adjusted his rear view mirror so as to see her better.  He caught her eye and winked and she almost laughed. 
We’ll touch without touching.  Is it possible to kiss without kissing?
 

The rest of the family came out to the van soon enough and they were off on their six hour drive.  For the first hour and a half, the two families spoke animatedly about the wedding that day, about Rebekah’s and Ezekiel’s upcoming wedding in a month, and about the recent horse auction in Jamesport.  As the sun started to rise, the noise subsided and several began nodding off to sleep. 

Occasionally, Ezekiel would turn around and she could feel his glare, but she only cared for Nick’s glances.  She waited for the moments he would look in the rearview mirror and catch her eye.  She bluntly ignored Ezekiel.

At every fuel stop, while everyone else piled into the bathroom, Rebekah held
her urine in hopes of a chance moment to simply touch hands.  She didn’t dare hope for a kiss.  But someone always remained in the van, obstructing her plan.  To deal with her growing frustration, she kept her eyes on Nick and played their kiss over and again in her mind.  It was delicious, bringing to her groin a touch of the heat she had felt with his body pushing her against the counter in the shop.

8:15 a.m.

Bumping down the dusty gravel roads, Elder Bontrager was yelling out directions to Nick from the back seat.  They were here.  It was her cousin’s wedding day and the festive spirit had already begun.  Rebekah carried in bags and boxes with Nick and Hannah into the kitchen and lugged the suitcase up to the bedroom she was to share with her sisters.  Going back into the hallway, she saw Nick discussing sleeping arrangements with the bride’s mother.

“Will this room be good enough for you?”
She indicated the room across the hallway from Rebekah’s.  “You can have it to yourself.”

Nick thanked her and stood waiting for her to leave
. Could we be alone for a moment now?
  Rebekah thought.  A master at delegating work, the bride’s mother turned to Rebekah and said, “Would you gather the eggs from the coop?”

Giving Nick a longing look, she followed the woman downstairs.

***

Walking in onto the hay strewn floor of the chicken house, Rebekah felt momentarily blinded as her eyes adjusted to the dark.  She was picking up the eggs, some still warm and damp, and placing them into the basket she carried when she felt strong arms around her and hot
breath upon her nape.  Turning, she was met with Nick’s soulful face.  Dropping the basket beside her, she reached for his head to pull him in to be kissed, at first yielding and soft, then more amorously.  Nick sank to his knees, gently bringing her down with him.  He pushed her to the floor of the coop, one hand behind her head and the other on her diminutive ribcage, just grazing the bottom of her breast with his caress.  His mouth possessed hers, and she fully gave in, her hands still holding his head.  The rigid mass she had felt in his pants was still there, amassing greater fire.  His caress of her ribcage traveled up to her breast, feeling her stiff nipple under thin cotton, stoking and squeezing as his hips began to rock slightly, rubbing his—what WAS that!—against her. 

Rebekah burst into flames.  Her pubic area was amassing hot gravity
; the want she had felt in the store was becoming a blistering need.  Dewiness appeared from the meeting point of her thighs and dripped down the crack of her round cheeks.  With a will of their own, her hips began to move in rhythm to Nick’s.  She pushed herself into his hardness, feeling wetness collect under her bottom, soaking her bloomers.  His hand reached down to play upon her hip, stoking, and then holding fast to her hipbone. 

“What are you doing?” 
A child’s voice.  Terror seized Rebekah.  They scrambled to their feet.

It was Lucy
Scwartzentrooper, the five year old daughter of one of Rebekah’s cousins. 
Holy shit!
  She stared wide eyed, as Rebekah picked grass from her skirt.  “We were just playing.”

“Can I play?  Can I?  Can I?”  The child bounced up and down in front of Rebekah, who was at a loss for words.

Nick came to her rescue.  “It’s a game just for grown-ups.”

“Oh.” 
She deflated.

Rebekah found her voice, “Go find the cousins and play a children’s game.  Go swing on the swing.”

“We were playing hide and seek.”

“Good idea.  Go hide.”

“I was hiding in here,” said Lucy petulantly.

“You can’t hide in here.”

“Why not?”  The child wrinkled her nose in puzzlement.

“You’ll scare the chickens.”

“Okay.”  Giving up with much chagrin, Lucy plodded outside the coop, then screamed in delight, scrambling to the “safe tree” when spotted by her playmates, completely forgetting grown up games.

Nick helped Rebekah dust herself off and gather the rest of the eggs.  “You better get back before you are missed.”

She savored him.  His pants.  His bulge.  She wanted to touch it, to explore it. 

She signed.  “I guess.”  He bent down to give her one last kiss and she returned to the house, egg basket in hand, bloomers sticking to her between her legs.

11:30 a.m.

Rebekah had worked with the other women preparing the food for the wedding while the men sat in rockers and
talked.  Now it was time to load everyone into the van and take off to the wedding, which was two miles away.  Mother Yoder heaved into the vehicle, complaining about the heat, sweat gushing down her fleshy cheeks.  Rebekah’s father sat in front, giving Nick directions, while Rebekah stared out the window. 
What would have happened if Lucy hadn’t walked in on us
?  She thought of the prominence in his pants and wondered if she could have worked up the nerve to probe it. 
What does it look like?  Feel like?  Because it feels huge
.  And while yet innocent and not understanding why, thinking about the greatness of his swelling made her burn. 

They arrived at the groom’s house where the wedding was to be
and hauled everything out of the van and onto tables.  Rebekah returned to where Nick was standing by his van.  “Do you want a plate?” 

He almost said yes, but then glanced up to take in Ezekiel’s baleful scrutiny.  Rebekah saw him, too. 
You can almost
see
him listening to us.
  “Better not.  I think I’ll go back to the house and try to catch a nap.”

“See you tonight then.”  Rebekah stood watching the dust and gravel spit out from his tires as he drove back to the house. 

12:36 p.m.

Going to the outhouse.
 
Ezekiel won’t follow me there
.  Walking to the back of the groom’s house and cautiously peeping out
.  Nobody watching
.  Heart hammering in her chest, Rebekah snuck to the road and upon hitting it, bolted headlong in the direction of her cousin’s home.  She didn’t stop running until she was long out of sight of the wedding party.

1:45 p.m.

Approaching the house, Rebekah’s qualms began to catch up with her. 
What am I doing?  Where can this possibly lead?  Nick is not Amish.  I am not English. It’s impossible
.  She thought of Ezekiel, noxious Ezekiel. 
That toad.
   Then she considered Nick.
What was this if not love?
  She walked determinedly through the front door.

The silence hung heavy, only marred by the sound of her boots on the wooden floor and her recklessly hammering heart.  She climbed the stairs to the second floor and came upon Nick’s room.  His door was wide open.

He sat on the edge of the white bed, barefoot and shirtless, the sleek, sculpted lines of his arms and torso visible.  Fine, curly hairs dusted his chest, down the center line of his belly and disappeared under his blue jeans.  Rebekah started, almost withdrawing.  She had not expected to find him naked.

“I was hoping you would come.”  Nick came over to take her hand in his
and drew her into his room, closing the door behind them.  “I was afraid you wouldn’t.”  She looked around the room for a chair.  There were none.  He led her to the bed to sit beside him.

She
sat, her hands in her lap, not able to look at him, suddenly shy. 
Am I afraid?  Why am I here then?
  Nick traced his finger along her cheek.  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, in comforting tones.  “Hey, look at me,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”  She took a long look at him.  Sweet brown eyes, mouth that curved into a faint smile, long hands.  It was still Nick; just Nick but with more of his beauty showing.  Biting her lip, she at last smiled some.

“Yes, I’m alright.”

Nick clasped her hands.  “How was the wedding?”

“Family.  People talking.” 
Ezekiel gawking
. . .
and no Nick there at all
.  In that moment Rebekah realized that she wanted Nick; she wanted to be his, impossible or not.  She had to tell him how she felt.  
I love you
.  These were words, in the weeks of her engagement, which she never expected to say.

“Nick, I . .
.I—” He cut her off with a kiss, slowly working his mouth around, on, into hers.  Her lips melted under his slight pressure.  He used his tongue to open her lips and allowed it to slide over hers.  His hand moved once more to her breast, rubbing his palm back and forth on her nipple, to cause it to pucker and stand up.  She closed her eyes, allowing the pleasure of his mouth and his hand to flow through her, awakening the desire between her legs.  He lightly pinched her erect nipple through the cloth, causing the want to multiply and become heavier. 

He reached over with both hands, removed her white
bonnet and slowly took the pins out of her hair.  She watched him as he unbraided her copper tresses, running his fingers through the wavy mass. Leaning over, he kissed it. 

H
is kisses spread to her neck.  He fumbled around with the folds of her dress for a moment before saying, “How do you open this?”  A shock of apprehension blasted through her. 
He wants me to take my clothes off!
  She froze momentarily with shock, but only momentarily, for she then pictured Ezekiel’s hands pawing at her dress in the not too distant future. 
I want only you to touch me, not anyone else.
It had to be wrong, to be alone like this with an English, a man not her husband
.  But it doesn’t feel wrong.
 
It feels right
.  In fact, it felt the most right of anything Rebekah had ever felt.

Rebekah reached up and undid the safety pins from her shoulders, then her bodice, letting the dress fall around her waist, showing her full breasts under the thin white fabric of her camisole.  Nick carefully removed her shoes and stockings and then
, putting his arms around and under her, half lifted her and placed her lying on the bed.  He lay on top of her, kissing her deeply, while his hand found its way up under her camisole.  The contact of his hand on her bare breast started her heart to pound.  He kissed her neck and shoulders and, pushing the camisole up above her breasts, enveloped her nipple with his mouth, sucking soft then harder, almost to the point of her crying out but not in pain.  There seemed to be a direct line from her nipples to that place of heat, wetness, and growing, hungry want between her legs.  As a child she had been at her uncle’s home in Nebraska where he had a metal works.  She spent days watching him pour the white hot metal into molds and then pound it into shape.  She felt that her body now was like that molten metal, the fire of it growing and spreading out from inside her.