The Marriage Bed (20 page)

Neil cleared his throat. "I don't think she can hear you," he said. "Can she?"

His uncle shrugged and shook his head. "Maybe not, son."

The word qaught him unawares.
Son
. His uncle had never called him that before. He was sure. Something like that he'd remember. It made him want to give his uncle something in return. He couldn't call him
Pa
, and he already called him Uncle Spence. His mind raced for something that might make his uncle happy.

"Could I talk to her?" He knew she'd never hear him, but Uncle Spence would, and the man's eager nod made him think that maybe he'd done the right thing. "Aunt Liv? I don't want you to die. Nobody does. We'd miss your pies, and your bedtime stories, and . . . "

"And your smile," Uncle Spencer continued when he'd run out of things to say. "And your voice . . ."

Uncle Spencer's own voice broke then, and a chicken wing could have knocked either of them over when they heard Louisa's words come through the open door.

"And the way you ask us if we need anything, and never get angry . . ."

She was just lying there, Aunt Livvy, as if there weren't anyone else in the room with her and she were just napping in the middle of a real hard day. But then, Aunt Liv never napped. As far as he could tell, she never slept at all. She was up before he was in the morning, making breakfast, seeing to the animals, humming softly to herself and anyone around her, and she was still awake when he fell asleep at night.

He looked at her more closely. He didn't know why Uncle Spencer kept saying she wasn't as pretty as his ma.

"We're all here, Liv," Uncle Spencer said, putting his hands out and gathering all of the children to him. "You gonna trust me with them?"

He didn't know about Aunt Liv, but the idea sure scared Neil. He knew what happened to a pa after a mama died. He'd seen his dad, and while he'd never been a prize at the county fair before his mama had passed on, he was a pretty poor excuse for a dad afterward. Just the thought that he was coming home soon would get Louisa crying, and Josie's bottom . . . Well, things were just better with Aunt Liv and Uncle Spence, that was all.

"Think I'll let 'em have pie for dinner, Liv, and let 'em stay up as late as they want. And I guess I'll just go out drinkin' and . . ."

"There's stew in the icebox." Aunt Liv's voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of the well. And she looked like she'd just been pulled up from there, too. She was squinting at them all like she'd just come outside on a sunny day and found the world too bright.

"Doc!" Uncle Spence yelled. "She's coming around. Dear God in heaven, she's coming around!"

Aunt Liv was struggling to sit up and she looked at him like he'd lost his mind, but he pushed her back down until she was flat on the bed again, and kissed her smack on the lips, and then on each eyelid, and he didn't seem to want to stop until Dr. LeMense finally pulled him off like they were two kids fighting instead of two grown-ups smooching.

"Spencer," Aunt Liv said in that I-am-shocked-at-you voice. "What in the world?"

"Well, I see you remember Mr. Williamson," the doctor said, as if his aunt were likely to forget her own husband. "You remember what happened to you?"

Josie was studying Neil, and he was studying Uncle Spencer, who was studying Aunt Liv, who was looking at the doctor as if he were the one who'd taken a fall and maybe lost his mind. Neil took Josie's hand and squeezed it as if to tell her not to worry. It was what he would have liked Uncle Spencer to do for him.

"What happened to me?" Aunt Liv said. She looked down at herself, realized she was still in her nightdress, and turned pinker than Josie's favorite ribbons.

"What's the last thing you remember?" the doctor asked, shining a light in her eyes and looking for who knew what.

Aunt Liv looked from face to face as if she were hoping someone would help her answer the doctor's question. Neil had a sinking feeling that Aunt Liv might not even remember them.

"You've had a fall," the doctor explained to her. "And you've been unconscious for a while. There may be, some things you don't remember just yet. You remember how. you fell?"

Aunt Liv shook her head real sadly.

"You remember anything about this morning?" the doctor continued.

She looked like she was going to cry, Neil thought.

"Last night?"

Her eyes searched Uncle Spencer's face, then his, Louisa's, and finally Josie's. There they paused and she bit her lip and raised her eyebrows a little. "We were reading?" she asked. "Josie and I? Is that right?"

"
Black Beauty
," Josie said, squeezing her way through to stand by the edge of the bed. "And you fell asleep." She pointed her finger at Aunt Liv accusingly.

"And then what happened?" Aunt Liv asked.

"Then I got home, put Josie to bed, and this morning it seems she finally made her way all the way up that stupid ladder," Uncle Spencer said.

Neil thought Uncle Spencer was leaving out a few important details. He had heard Uncle Spencer come home. He'd heard him yell at Aunt Liv on the porch, say mean things and make her cry, and he knew that Uncle Spencer had remained on the porch all night.

"Oh, Josie!" Aunt Liv said, reaching out for his sister. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Uncle Spencer threw back his head and laughed. He laughed so hard he had to sit down in his chair and pull off his glasses to wipe his eyes. "Livvy, Livvy, Livvy," he said when he could catch his breath and wipe the tears from his eyes. "Isn't it just like you to be worried about someone else?"

Aunt Livvy looked down at her nightgown again and then up at Dr. LeMense. Neil could almost see the wheels going around in her head, taking her from being all muddled up to suddenly understanding. "I fell?"

Uncle Spencer leaned forward and looked at her like there wasn't another soul in the room. Maybe not on the whole planet. And then he said the strangest thing Neil had ever heard.

"Not half so hard as I did, Livvy-love. Not half so hard as me."

Chapter Fourteen

Nobody had wanted to leave, not the doctor, not Remy or Bess, not the children. It was as if none of them trusted Spencer to take good enough care of his own wife. And he couldn't really blame them. He'd done a pretty poor job of it so far, hadn't he? He'd made her miserable enough to want to leave him.

He watched over her while she slept, pushing the hair away from her face as she napped. She had no recollection of the morning's events, even accusing him of hiding her hair-brush to keep her in bed. Doc LeMense told him not to worry, her memory was likely to return, but Spencer prayed it wouldn't, prayed she would never remember the hurtful things he'd shouted at her on the porch the night before.

Miss Lily needed milking. The chickens had no doubt pecked every seed Josie had ever spilled and were searching for more. The sun was probably burning his crops. And all that mattered was that Livvy was sleeping in his bed, turning this way and that, scratching her nose when he brushed it with the end of her braid to assure himself she was just resting and not unconscious again.

It was torture to let her sleep when he had so much to tell her, so much to apologize for, so much to celebrate. She stretched and opened the dark eyes that he had come to know so well. Confusion clouded them.

"Spencer? What time is it?" She sat up and he let her, filled with awe at the magic of her movements and her voice.

"It's midafternoon," he told her, reaching for the pitcher of water he'd kept by her bed and pouring her a glass. "Are you thirsty?"

"Midafternoon!" She gasped, pushing back the covers and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She closed her eyes and grimaced.

"Slow," he warned her. "The doc says you might be dizzy and have a bit of a headache for a while, but it'll all pass if you take it easy."

She rose from the bed and straightened her nightgown, searching with her feet for her slippers as if he hadn't spoken at all.

The sunlight glowed through her nightdress, revealing every curve of her body. Enjoying the view, he grabbed a handful of the soft white Cotton in his fist and held on tight. "Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Spencer, the children. They have to have lunch and . . . where's Josie?" She swatted at his hand trying to break free, but he held the garment firm.

"The children are with Bess. She figured she was in better shape than you were, and I'm sure Louisa's happy for the chance to show off how grown up she is." He twisted his hand in the fabric, pulling her closer to him. "You smell so good, Livvy-love. Just like lilacs."

"I smell like I always smell,',' she said, looking down at him very suspiciously. "Did something happen this morning I ought to know about?"

She bit at the edge of her lip, and he reached up and ran one finger against the fullness of her bottom lip. "You are so soft," he said, unable to keep the huskiness out of his voice.

"You didn't answer me," she said, fidgeting with her hair like a nervous bride. "Is there something I ought to know?"

"Oh, Liv," he said, looking up at her frightened face. There was so much she ought to know, but he'd be damned if he'd tell her all of it. The past was behind them and the future was everything he knew she wished it would be. "Something did happen. Something that's going to change our lives."

"They're leaving?" she asked, tears gathering in her eyes, shoulders shaking, lips drawn and lost between her teeth. "He's come for them, then?"

"No," he said, using her fear to coax her into his arms, down onto his lap, tight against his chest. "The children are just gone for the night, or until I go over there and pick them up. What's changed, Liv, is between you and me."

He'd been rubbing her back, but in gathering her closer, his arm had found its way to her breast. She stiffened and he stilled his movements, but left his hand exactly where it was.

"When I saw you on that floor . . ." He swallowed hard, the memory closing his throat and making it hard to continue. He took a deep breath. "When I saw you on that floor, I thought I'd lost you. And the thought nearly killed me. I love you, Livvy. You can't even guess at how much."

His fingers traced the outline of her breast, skimming the fullness over and over until he had to shift her slightly on his lap to accommodate what was happening to him.

"You
what
?" she asked, looking at him with eyes that were wide with disbelief.

"I love you. I do. We'll talk more about it when you're feeling better. In the meantime, just know I love you. And I swear that I will make up these years to you, Liv," he said, kissing the top of her head and inhaling deeply. "And I'll enjoy every minute of it, too."

"Am I dreaming?" she asked quietly, searching his eyes for the truth.

"No, Livvy-love. All your dreams have finally come true. And I'm so lucky they have."

He made her rest the remainder of the day, which wasn't easy for either of them. She wanted to get up and see to the farm, see to the children, see where it was she stood in a life that was missing an important chunk that connected today to the day before. He, on the other hand, wanted to forget the farm, forget the children, and fill her void by taking her, again and again, until what she'd forgotten didn't matter half as much as what she'd have to remember.

Bess sent over supper with the boys, who were instructed to ask Livvy how she was, if she needed anything, and what seemed to Spencer like a hundred other inane questions that kept the children in the house far longer than they were welcome as far as he was concerned.

He saw her to the privy twice, amused by her embarrassment each time.

"I really feel quite fine," she insisted the second time.

"Good," he said, but he refused to remove his hand from around her waist until they stood at the door, Livvy so shy she couldn't lift her gaze to him.

When she was done he offered her help with a bath, as much because the idea appealed to him as because he wanted to watch her blush yet another time.

"You could get dizzy and wind up drowning," he warned her. "I really think—"

"I'm not about to drown in a basin of water. A birdbath will do me for tonight."

He thought about touching every wet, soapy inch of her and knew that tonight was not the night. She wasn't up to giving in, and he wasn't up to holding back. And so he brought a wash basin of warm water to their bedroom and sat in the parlor insisting that she sing or talk to him so that he would know she was all right.

"I remember something else," she said, interrupting herself just before the line about hopes vanishing in
After the Ball.

He held his breath.

"Didn't you go to Remy's to return that book?"

"The water still warm enough?" he asked.

"And then . . ." Her voice got kind of dreamy. "You dropped off Neil, right?"

"You about done? I think you must be clean enough by now and you ought to get some rest." He rose to his feet but hesitated to walk in on her.

"I must have fallen asleep before you got home."

"Better be done now," he warned. "I'm coming in."

He caught her with the towel only half wrapped around her, and though she turned away too rapidly to give him a good look, it was enough to raise the temperature in the room by ten degrees.

"I'll get your gown," he said, measuring her legs with his eyes and noting they were longer than he'd thought, and well turned.

As he went around her she twisted so that he could still only see her back. It would have been a better plan if the towel had been large enough to cover the whole of her full round bottom. He'd have thought that three years of restraint would have prepared him well for just one more night.

Lord, they didn't come any dumber than him.

"You dry?" he asked, looking out the window at the rising moon. He held the gown at arm's length and felt her take it from him.

When he turned around, she was under the sheet, damp curls corkscrewing around her face.

"Guess you're tired, huh?" he asked.

"How could I be tired?" she said with a nervous laugh. "All I've done all day is rest."

"You dizzy, then?" He undid the buttons on his shirt and slipped out of it without looking directly at her.

"No, Spence. I'm fine."

Well, good, one of them was. He, on the other hand, was as unsure of himself as a fledgling robin taking his first solo flight. When was the last time he'd satisfied a woman? This was worse than a wedding night, since neither of them were innocents.

The thought of his wedding night sent him crashing all the faster toward the hard dry earth. What if he couldn't make himself wait until tomorrow and somehow, after tonight, she figured out what he had done, what he'd let her believe, let the whole of Maple Stand believe?

He undid the waist of his pants and eased them over his hips with difficulty. "You're a good cook, Liv," he said. "Guess I've put on a pound or two."

"I'll let your seams out," she said. "With cherry pie season coming, you'll need some extra room."

He slid under the covers next to her and wondered why he felt so damn awkward. This was his wife. He loved her. He moved over until their hips touched. She didn't jump away, and he took that as a good sign.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Mostly just grateful," she said. "You made me feel real special today, Spencer. Thank you."

Oh, but she was special. "It was nothing. That's what husbands do for wives whenever they fall out of lofts."

He turned on his side and trailed his hand up and down her arm.

"If I'd known that, I think I'd have fallen out of that loft years ago." She seemed to hold her breath, waiting for his response.

"There's other things, Liv, that husbands can do to make wives feel special . . ."

He wasn't sure she was still breathing. "Liv?"

"Mm?" He didn't know that such a short sound could crack in two.

"Liv, I could show you one of those things, if you like."

He figured she'd say no if she didn't want him to, so he took her silence as agreement and bent his head over hers and kissed her.

And while he was kissing her, he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, nudging her to open them until she did, and he slipped his tongue inside the warm cavern of her mouth and groaned.

Slowly, almost torturously, her hands climbed his arms and wound their way about his neck. He wanted to bind them there somehow and never be free of her grasp.

Easy, he warned himself, knowing he should wait, knowing he wouldn't. Still, this was a night for leisure. A night for patience. A night for both of them to know the rewards of love.

He brushed her breast lightly through her gown, finding the nipple and then'barely grazing it until it hardened and seemed to reach out toward him. With just his pointer he made lazy circles around the tip until he realized that she was no longer kissing him back but breathing heavily against his lips.

He fumbled with her buttons like a schoolboy who had never undressed a woman even with his eyes, and finally he had to ask for help. Even she seemed to have trouble with the tiny buttons, and it took mountains of self-restraint not to simply rip the gown from her body.

But he didn't have mountains of self-restraint left, and when, after what felt like hours, she still hadn't managed to free herself, he followed his instincts and pulled the nightgown apart, breaking tiny little bits of button and freeing her glorious breasts to glisten in the moonlight. He bent his head to them and teased a nipple with his tongue. She arched against him and he teased her some more while his hand followed the hourglass curve of her waist to the spread of her hips. His thumb made tiny circles against her hipbone, imitating his tongue against her breast.

His hand inched its way to her womanhood and his fingers became lost in the curls. Wedging his knee between her legs, he spread them gently so that he could reach the very spot that would bring her the happiness he had promised.

She was moist. He took that to mean that so far she had enjoyed what he was doing. Lord, he felt like an idiot, married to the woman for three years and he didn't even know what she liked. He felt worse than stupid, for he hadn't even cared.

"I'll make it all up to you," he said, his breath raising goose flesh on her wet breast. "Whatever it takes, I will."

He worked his magic, gauging his speed by her sighs, measuring his success by her gasps, and when he thought she was ready, he positioned himself above her and eased himself into the velvet glove that was meant for his hardness alone, and let it envelop him.

No dreams haunted him, no memories assailed him. There was no one in the carved oak bed but this man and this woman, husband and wife, and he reveled in it.

He rolled them to their sides, still locked together, and took her face in his hands. "Tell me it's all right, Livvy," he begged. Her leg was caught beneath his body and she tried to free it before she spoke. He lifted his weight and slipped from her body's hold on him.

"Oh," she cried, her disappointment as obvious as her surprise.

"Is it too late, Livvy-love?" he asked her, his hands everywhere as he searched for a way to fill her once again with his love. He rolled to his back and pulled her against him, encouraging her with his hands to bend her knees and straddle him.

As wonderful as it felt to slide within her silken nest, it was not nearly so magical as watching the joy that lit her face . as she took him inside her and arched against him.

She was naked above him, her breasts full and erect, her treasures there for him to gape at, and all he could see were those eyes, those dark brown, surprised eyes, filled with the wonder of what he was making happen inside her.

He watched the slackening of her jaw, felt the clutching of her fists, heard the sudden intake of breath, and knew that he had finally begun paying the debt he would owe forever. It was a debt he would look forward eagerly to making nightly payments on. And should there be a bonus . . .

And then it happened inside of him, an explosion that rocked him heart and soul and body, for that was how she had him, for now and forever.