Destiny's Bride (6 page)

His mouth trailed across to her other breast, and emitting a throaty moan, she entwined her fingers in his thick hair. Closing her eyes to relish the new sensations, she found herself pulled deeper and deeper into the drowning pool of ecstasy… until she wrenched back to reality the moment his hardened member probed against her most private part.

Walt situated himself above her, paused for a moment, and then plunged into her. Encompassed in burning pain, Cecile whimpered.

“Are you all right?  I’ll stop if you want.”  He ceased moving.

The pain subsided.  “I’m fine now,” she whispered. “Teach me how to please you.”  Drawn by instincts she’d never experienced, she thrust her hips upward, urging him to continue.  She moved her body in rhythm with his until their growing passion turned into an indescribable feeling of pleasure.

She arched to take in every bit of his pulsing organ, begging him to fill her completely, while her fingernails raked across his naked back. The way her inexperienced body reacted to his touch amazed her, and caused her every breath to come faster and faster until she found herself caught in a swift moving current of passion. With bodies interlocked, she rode with him to calm waters.

***

They woke almost simultaneously. The bright morning sun shining in their eyes made sleeping no longer possible. Cecile rolled in the opposite direction to escape the orb’s harsh glare, her movement causing burning and soreness between her legs. The discomfort verified that last night had not been a dream, but very real, and her painful reaction to merely shifting her weight worried her. Was it normal?

She slowly rolled onto her back, but the blankets didn’t move with her. The cool morning air chilled her and made her nakedness apparent.  Her mind spun, trying to figure out how to get to her clothes without an uncomfortable display of nudity in broad daylight.

Walt pulled her close in an embracing cuddle. “I never knew loving someone could be this exciting. Last night was wonderful.” He heaved a contented sigh.

Recalling the events of the evening sent a warming flush up her neck and stirred a mix of emotions. Last night she'd let him command her body, touch every inch of her, and now she feared being seen unclothed. How prudish was that? And making love did hurt like she'd heard, but then, after the pain… how did one describe that wonderful feeling?  She smiled up at him, loving him even more now than yesterday.

“I know last night wasn’t all pleasure for you,” he said, gazing into her eyes, reading her thoughts, “but from now on it won’t hurt as much. It’ll be better, just wait and see.”

Words failed her. How could she explain these newfound feelings to him when she didn’t understand them herself? But, she'd figured out one thing. It was morning and already she looked forward to sunset. She raised a brow. Did that make her a wanton woman?

Cecile closed her eyes and enjoyed the comfort of his embrace, but a full bladder nagged her for relief. Modestly, she pulled the blanket around her and stood, then glanced down. Her mouth gaped. By taking the cover, she bared Walt to the world. There he lay, naked as a jay bird, but it didn’t seem to faze him. His arm shielded his eyes from the sun and he had obviously fallen back to sleep.

She averted her gaze. Why was nudity such a problem? He was her husband, after all. But until last night she'd never even seen anyone else naked, and the experience was quite incredible, she had to admit. She stole another peek, pondering the difference in his… in his... manhood. Despite seeing horses and cows mate, she never guessed that something on a man’s body could grow to such lengths. Her husband was truly amazing.

Wrapped in the blanket, she waddled off to find a secluded place to relieve herself. Sharing her body was one thing, but there were still some tasks one needed to attend to in private.

She returned to Walt’s humming. He seemed even happier than before as he rolled up the bedding, re-packed the wagon, and hitched up the horses. Cecile took her clothes and washed and dressed by the stream, then climbed aboard the wagon for the next leg of the journey.  She tucked her folded blanket under the seat with the others.

As Walt walked around making sure everything was secure, she recalled her wedding night, thankful to have gotten past her first physical encounter. “Mrs. Walt Williams,” she whispered, trying out her new name. “I’m really Mrs. Walt Williams.” 

Walt climbed aboard and sat next to her, patting her knee and giving her a warm smile before urging the horses onward. She gazed at the cloudless blue sky and tried again to picture her new home, but to no avail. As the wheels began to turn, the wagon pitched forward, almost unseating her. She grabbed onto Walt’s arm to steady herself. She prickled with excitement to finally lay the mystery about her husband’s ranch to rest.

“We’ll be home in another two or three days,” he said, as if reading her mind.

With a smile, she breathed a sigh of relief. Home! Her new home, her new life with her new husband. What could be more exciting than that?

The sun climbed higher in the sky and the day grew warmer. She reached behind the seat and grabbed her bonnet. In her mind, she heard her mother‘s voice. “If you don’t cover your head, you’re going to end up with ugly freckles on your face.”

***

Walt was right, the next night of sharing one another’s body felt even better. With only a momentary twinge of pain, Cecile reveled in feelings she never knew possible. Once she reached a certain point, letting him take control of her body seemed as natural as breathing. It just didn’t make sense that when the moment passed, she reverted to her prim and proper ways. Her lack of experience kept her on edge—not knowing for sure what she should do or where she should touch him. She wanted to bring the same pleasure to him that he gave her. She had no doubt that given time she’d learn. Walt was a great teacher.

Despite her nighttime rewards, the days seemed as endless as the prairie they crossed. There was nothing to look at and little to say. Her back and legs ached from balancing on the wagon seat, and her hands had splinters from holding onto the worn wooden sides. Her patience wore thin.

“Well, Cece,” Walt said, breaking the silence, “over that next rise is our new home.” Pride filled his voice.

A surge of excitement shot through her. “Home, we‘re really here? You mean tonight we can sleep in a bed, and even wash up?” It sounded wonderful. She straightened her posture and scanned the horizon, eager to see what her mind had tried so hard to envision.

Chapter Four

The passed the lake at the foot of the rise, with water so inviting Cecile wished for a swim, and just beyond, the thick stand of trees Walt had talked of so many times. Her heart fluttered with excitement. They were finally home.

The team’s shoulder muscles bulged with effort to get the loaded wagon to the crest of the hill. Once there, Walt reined the horses. “Well, here we are.” His gaze trained on the buildings below.

Cecile blinked her eyes in disbelief. This couldn’t be it. There was no house, just a deserted shack with a terribly rundown barn. There had to be a mistake. She waited for Walt to put an end to his joke. He didn’t, just snapped the reins and set the wagon in motion, stopping in front of the ugliest structure Cecile had ever seen.

She sat frozen to the wagon seat and looked around. Prairie grass had grown up to the doorway, and in place of glass windows, weather-beaten shutters barely hung on to the aging wood of what Walt called a house. The previous owner had added on a makeshift porch that tilted away from the house and looked unsafe. Her mind spun, remembering his description of his purchase. There were rolling hills in the distance, trees, and they did pass a small lake on the way in, but this couldn’t possibly be what he’d been so excited about. Tears burned the back of her eyes.

Walt jumped off the wagon and reached to help her down. He looked so happy, she prayed her disappointment didn‘t show. She fixed a smile on her face and leaned over into his waiting arms.

Despite her attempt at feigned pleasure, he must have detected something amiss.

“What’s the matter, Cece? We’re home. Isn’t it a beautiful place?”

He turned in a complete circle to marvel at his new land. Cecile forced herself to nod, trying to remain strong. She swallowed and fought the frown tugging at her lips. Yes, the surrounding land was beautiful, but where was the house he promised? This couldn’t be where he expected her to live.

Walt chattered away, but she only heard the part where he insisted on waiting to unload the wagon until they tidied up a bit. He put his arm around her and stood silently admiring his new empire.

“We’ll sleep in the barn until the house is ready. It isn’t quite liveable yet,” he announced.

The barn? A strong wind would be its demise. She stifled a hysterical chuckle at his suggestion that the barn was more suitable than the shack he called a house, but sobered quickly when it occurred to her that getting their new residence into shape would be her responsibility. She hadn’t thought about that until this very minute.

She glanced around again, trying to find something positive. More tears stung her eyes but she fought hard to hold them back. Walt was too busy gabbing about being home and gushing about the grandness of the place to notice her brushing away the wetness that trickled down her cheek.

Her mother’s familiar voice rang in Cecile’s ears. “Be the best wife you can be.” She took a deep breath and sighed, then, forcing one foot in front of the other, she walked toward the ramshackle cabin. She whispered a little prayer. “Please God, keep me from anymore surprises.”

***

When Cecile first ventured into the house, she wanted to die right on the spot. Her first shock was finding what looked to be a dirt floor, but upon further examination she found wood beneath the filth. Dust and debris sifted in through the crooked shutters and layered the plank flooring. Enjoying a teeny surge of relief, she surveyed the rest of her new home.

The entire structure consisted of one big room, complete with a rustic-looking bed frame and a mattress that sagged almost to the floor. The main living area had a large stone fireplace and hearth in the corner, and the kitchen area hosted a rustic table holding a chipped water pitcher and bowl. One rickety bench provided seating for two, and nearby, a cracked mirror hung from a rusted nail.

In contrast to the large windows in her
Silver City home, directly over the table was one the size of a medium picture-frame. The grass outside had gotten so tall it crept through the crookedly cut, ill fitting shutter. She had no desire to open it for fear of the critters that might scurry inside.

It was apparent why the previous occupants had left behind the odds and ends of furniture. The table and bench were made out of wood so rough Cecile imagined picking splinters from her behind if she sat. A chair with a broken rocker rested in the corner next to the fireplace, and beside it was an old crate where a rusty lantern perched precariously, most likely to provide light for anyone brave enough to risk staying beyond daylight.

What had she done to herself? She pictured her mother’s living room with its matching furniture and crisp pleated draperies and fought hard to hold back tears.

By requiring her daughter to do only minimal chores around the house, Mother had never really prepared Cecile for being a wife or housekeeper. She surveyed the challenge set before her. This was going to be a learning experience she’d have to endure on her own. Her days of being spoiled and pampered were over.

She took a deep breath and dug in, trying to wash away the accumulated dust and grime. What she hated most was dealing with the various prairie creatures that considered this their home. “Oh dear…I hate spiders.” She yelped as one skittered across the floor.

Wiping a trickle of sweat from her forehead, she glanced around the room for something to shuttle the insects outside, and spied an ancient broom in the corner by the fireplace. Although a great deal of straw was missing from it, there was still enough left to use. Looking at the dirt and grime around her, she pondered why the broom looked so worn. Obviously, it hadn’t been used in ages.

The floor had dried and warped with age, and the cracks between the planks had widened to reveal the ground below. Cecile swept several times in an attempt to get some of the dirt and dust to fall through. When she finished, she wore most of it.

Her frustration at its limit, she tossed the broom across the room. Peering through the broken shards of mirror, she barely recognized the reflection staring back. Her hair had come loose from its bun and hung in unruly strands around her face. A coat of dust turned her complexion look gray. She emitted a loud sigh as the looking glass revealed the sagging and dirty mattress behind her. Who or what had slept there before? Clearly, the bedding needed a thorough beating and airing out, and it was her glorious job to do it.

Tears welled again. She prodded herself to stay busy, believing work would keep her from dwelling on her disappointment. With more than a little effort, she dragged the mattress outside and draped it over the porch railing. For some reason, every whack of the broom against the old tattered thing made her feel better though the house shuddered with every stroke.