The Preacher's Daughter (13 page)

Lorabeth tried to peer around his shoulder to see Benjamin.

“Are you and the doc exclusive?” he asked.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Has he voiced any intentions? Asked you not to accept offers from other men?”

She shook her head with regret. “No.”

“So I still have a chance, huh?”

She glanced up at him. “A chance to what?”

“Win you. Be in your favor. You know.”

She didn’t know. She’d never been in a position to accept dance offers or invitations of any sort. If there was some kind of unspoken protocol, she wasn’t aware of it. “Exactly what does being in my favor involve?” she asked.

Carter’s complexion reddened. “Why, courting, Lorabeth.”

She blinked. “Courting?”

She knew what it meant. A gentleman sought out a lady’s favor by spending time with her. A few of the books Benjamin brought for her had been fictional novels with story lines where the gentlemen romanced their intended wives.

“What does courting involve, exactly?” she asked.

“Invitations to dances and socials. Gifts. Kissing, of course.”

“Everyone is kissing at the home socials,” she thought aloud. “It hardly seems special in that setting.”

“I would have to agree,” he answered. “But kissing is different in private.”

Indeed it was. “If a gentleman kisses a lady in private, is he courting her?”

“Quite likely,” he replied.

Lorabeth fell into the steps of the dance, turning at every opportunity to seek out Benjamin. Occasionally they moved his direction, and the crowd parted enough so she could spot him where she’d left him, the baby nestled on his arm.

He’d kissed her more than once. Was that courting?

The music ended, and she moved away from Carter and headed back to the table. She reached for Madeline, but Benjamin said, “She’s fine.”

Hobie came by and handed Benjamin a jar filled with dark liquid and foam on the surface.

Lorabeth glanced at his retreating back, then at the jar. “What is it?”

“Beer.” He turned and set it untouched on the table behind him. Then he met her gaze, apparently reading her curiosity. “Wanna try it?”

“May I?”

He picked up the jar and handed it to her.

She raised it to her lips and the pungent yeasty aroma met her nostrils. She drew her head away and blinked. Determined to taste it, she held her breath and took a sip. The unpleasant taste made her shudder.

Benjamin grinned and pointed to her mouth.

“Oh.” She flicked her tongue across her upper lip.

“Like it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not especially.”

She glanced from his face toward the crowd and back. He was studying her. Their gazes locked. His fell to her mouth. Embarrassed, she looked away.

Zeta came by with a tray and handed Lorabeth a jar of lemonade.

“Thank you. This is more like it.” She’d worked up a thirst, and the beer was awful. She took a long drink. “Oh!”

“Spiked?” Benjamin asked with a raised brow.

“Uh-huh.” She set it on the table. “These people enjoy their strong spirits, don’t they?”

Caleb and Ellie returned, and Caleb took Madeline from Benjamin.

“Oh, that looks good,” Ellie said, spotting the full glass of lemonade. “May I?” She reached for it and took a deep swallow before Lorabeth could say anything. Her eyes watered, and she fanned herself with a hand. “Oh, my.”

Benjamin laughed. “That’s what Lorabeth said.”

She quickly set the glass back down. “Go on, you two,” Ellie said, waving. “Have fun.”

Benjamin took Lorabeth’s hand, and they made their way back out. After dancing to a few brisk tunes, the music slowed again. She loved the way Benjamin’s hand rested at her waist, the way she could smell his hair and clothing and feel the warmth of his body. “I don’t want to dance with anyone but you,” she said.

“Good.” He studied her, his gaze touching her hair, her eyes. “I don’t want you to dance with anyone but me.”

Was this what Carter had asked about? “Benjamin?”

“Yes.”

She wanted to know about exclusiveness and courting, but she couldn’t form words to ask.

In the split second while the strains of a song dwindled away and dancers parted and headed toward the sides of the room, Benjamin’s demeanor changed. His body stiffened and his face looked pinched.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

He took her hand and led her toward the chairs. “Nothing.”

She studied him, but he avoided her eyes. She turned her attention to the others in the room, but couldn’t figure out why he’d suddenly become tense and withdrawn.

Ellie came to stand beside Benjamin then, and the two of them looked at each other, then at the crowd of dancers.

“Is something wrong?” Lorabeth asked again.

“No.” Ellie turned away and joined a gathering of women that included Miss Kirkpatrick.

Benjamin seemed to be studying someone, but Lorabeth couldn’t figure out who or what had changed his mood.

With a sick feeling growing in his belly, Ben watched Wes Evans escort his wife from the dance floor toward the side, where several youngsters greeted them. Two were blond-haired girls around ten or twelve with braids and calico dresses, another a dark-haired boy of maybe fourteen or fifteen who resembled Suzanne.

A startling realization flooded over him. Uneasiness riled his nerve endings and set his heart racing. A few of those children in that gathering obviously belonged to Wes and Suzanne.

Ben had siblings he hadn’t known about.

One of the girls elbowed the other, and they laughed. Wes leaned forward and said something to the young man, resting his hand on his shoulder as he did so.

At the sight of the Evans family’s interaction, Ben turned away. Those children led normal, happy lives, were well fed and had nice clothing. Their parents treated them lovingly. No doubt they had a decent house and attended school.

Ben couldn’t bear the overwhelming envy and sadness that enveloped him. He drew a breath and gathered his composure.

“Do you want to leave?” Lorabeth asked from beside him.

He glanced at her concerned expression and nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

Ben found Lorabeth’s wrap draped over the back of a chair and nestled it around her shoulders. “We’re headin’ out,” he said to Caleb.

His brother-in-law nodded.

The crisp night air held the scent of fall.

“That was fun,” Lorabeth said.

Ben helped her up to the buggy seat. “Glad you had a good time.”

“Where are you spending the night? I mean, at which house?”

“I like to spend Saturday night in town. I’m closer for church in the mornin’ that way, but I really need to go check on the animals tonight, so I might as well stay out there.”

“I’d enjoy riding along if you want to go tend to them now, then come back to town.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“All right, then.” He headed the horse toward the outskirts of Newton. “There’s a lap blanket back here,” he said, reaching under the seat and pulling out a Hudson Bay blanket. “Air’s nippy tonight.” He wondered what Evans did for a living.

She covered herself. “Look at all the stars.”

He scanned the expanse of dark heavens with its winking lights. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Ben couldn’t think much past Wes Evans’s appearance at the harvest dance. Had the man attended local dances before? Had he recently moved to Newton from Florence? Ben had been born in Florence, and he didn’t remember seeing the man before now. Suzanne would have spotted Ben sooner had they been at the same activities. Ellie would have recognized Wes. Or would she?

His head spun with questions, and for once Lorabeth was silent and contemplative.

The picture of those youngsters was burned into his mind. Half brothers and sisters? As close in blood relation to him as Ellie and Flynn. Did they know about him? Of course not. Wes hadn’t known about him, and Ben was sure the man hadn’t hurried home to tell them he had an illegitimate son.

How could Ben go on living in this community if that man and his entire brood were going to show up unannounced every time he turned around?

They reached Ben’s property, and he pulled the buggy up in front of the barn. He must have been sitting with the reins in his hands and the night closing around them for a few minutes before Lorabeth spoke, startling him out of his reverie.

“Are you all right, Benjamin?”

He glanced at the reins and tied them. “Yeah. Just tired, I reckon. Come inside the barn with me. I’ll light the stove there and you can keep warm while I check the animals.”

“Don’t go to any trouble,” she told him. “You don’t need to light a fire just for me.”

He helped her down and escorted her through the side door where the familiar scents of hay and animals enveloped them.

Delilah bleated from her pen.

“What’s that?” Lorabeth asked.

“That’s Delilah.” He let out the goat, and it sniffed Lorabeth’s skirt and shoes, then tried to nibble the hem of her skirt.

Lorabeth squealed and tugged the fabric away. “What’s she doing?”

“Bein’ nosy. Delilah, leave Lorabeth’s dress alone.”

Ben checked the occupied cages along the inside wall, made sure each of the animals had food and water, and examined a few healing wounds. A pigeon ruffled its feathers and pecked at the grain in its dish.

“What’s wrong with the dog?” Lorabeth asked.

“That’s Hoover, Marshal Vidlak’s huntin’ hound. Got his hind leg caught in a trap. It’s nearly healed now.”

Hoover stood with his black nose against the wire door, his tail wagging.

“What about her?” She pointed to a calico cat with a gold and black face.

“Him. Almira Wheeler found him in the alley behind her shop. He was skin and bones, pretty scraped up.”

Lorabeth placed her hand on the front wire of the cage, and the cat backed into the rear corner. “Are you afraid, kitty?”

“He doesn’t even let me pet him, and I’ve been feedin’ him for a couple of weeks.”

“What’s his name?”

“Doesn’t have one. He’s a stray.”

She bent to peer into the cage. “You look like a Mittens to me. Your paws are all a different color fur than the rest of you.”

“Not a very manly name for a tom,” he commented.

“He likes it.”

Ben came to stand beside her and studied the animal. “How can you tell?”

“His ears stood up when I said it. Watch. Mittens?”

Sure enough the feline twitched his notched ears and gave her a superior green-eyed stare.

“What will you do with him?”

“Let him go, I guess. There are already half a dozen barn cats around here. Another won’t hurt. Takes care of the mice.”

He was standing close enough behind her to detect the soft floral scent of her hair. Instead of the braid she wore during the week, she had fashioned her hair so that it hung in rippling waves down her back. Every time his hand had brushed it that evening he’d experienced a twinge of longing.

“Your hair is so soft and shiny,” he told her.

She straightened and turned so that she was looking at him over her shoulder. “I had it trimmed this week. And Ellie helped me do an egg treatment.”

“Eggs? Really? What do eggs do?”

She smiled. “Make it shiny, I guess.”

They stood that way for a moment.

“You can touch it if you like.”

He didn’t need an engraved invitation. Ben reached tentatively and took a tress between his fingers and thumb, noticing the cool, silky texture. Then he threaded all five fingers into the mass and brought it to his nose. He touched the satin smoothness to his lips.

Lorabeth turned so that she was facing him and watched his expression, obviously not caring if her hair was mussed.

“Nice,” was all he could say. He released her hair and grazed his fingertips along her jaw.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and trembled before sweeping open and fixing him with a yearning gaze. He could get lost in the depths of her tawny eyes and never want to find his way out.

Without hesitation he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

S
he inhaled and sighed as though taking in the essence of him. He loved kissing her. He’d never realized this simple expression would be so tender and feel so wholesome and right. Her lips felt good against his.

The rightness was because she was pure and innocent and her reactions were chaste. A man like Carter might take advantage of that. Ben cared too much about protecting her.

He backed away. “Ready to go?”

“Aren’t you going to show me your house?”

“Not much to see,” he said with a shrug. “But sure.”

He turned down the wicks to extinguish the lanterns and made sure she pulled her shawl around her shoulders before leading her out and across the yard to the house.

“I use the back door.” He opened the screen door with a creak of hinges.

He found matches and lit the lamps as well as a lantern he could carry to show her the rest of the house. “This is pretty much how it looked when I bought the place,” he told her. “Haven’t done much except clean it up and stock the pantry.”

Lorabeth followed him as he led her into a hallway and showed her the dining room, the tiny parlor and his bedroom. The rooms were clean, the furnishings practical and serviceable, but there wasn’t really much of himself here.

“It’s nice,” she said, as though feeling obligated to comment.

“It’s just a place to work.” With a shrug, he led her back to the rear door. “The house in town is more like a home.”

“Will you show me?”

“If you like.”

He took her hand to lead her across the darkened yard to the buggy and helped her up. Lorabeth pulled the blanket around her shoulders for the ride.

“Time to get winter coats out,” he commented.

“I’ve ordered a new one from Miss Eva’s catalog,” she told him. “It has a matching hat and a fur-lined muff. Quite fashionable.”

“Sounds warm. And pretty.”

The horse pulled them toward town.

“I have several paintings for you to choose from,” Ben said. “Never got around to bringin’ ’em to you.”

“Paintings?”

He nodded. “Remember when you moved your things into your room? I told you I had pictures for the walls that Ellie had left behind. You’re welcome to ’em.”

“I might like one or two,” she replied.

The house was dark, of course, though next door Mrs. McKinley’s lights were burning in her downstairs windows. Ben pulled the buggy back to the carriage house and took Lorabeth’s hand again.

Enormous spirea bushes flanked the back porch stairs, their blooms long gone. Ben unlocked the door and lit lamps.

He observed Lorabeth’s reaction to the enormous kitchen with its long trestle table and scarred chairs. The floor was smooth and shiny from the recent refinishing. Ben gestured to the brick chimney. “There’s even a fireplace. The pictures are in the dining room. I leaned them up against the wall.”

She followed him as he carried the lantern and lit more lamps.

Lorabeth knelt to the framed paintings along the wall and looked from one to the next. “They’re all lovely,” she said. “Why didn’t Ellie take them?”

“I think Caleb’s first wife might’ve picked ’em out. Ellie bought more for the new house when they moved.”

“Oh. I see.” The paintings Benjamin offered her were done in beautiful colors and of various subjects. She passed over the country scenes, drawn to a depiction of two young girls sitting in a meadow. Their skirts made circles around them in the grass as they created dainty flower chains. “I like this one.”

“Good. It’s too girly for me.”

She glanced up at his smile. “How about this one?”

She pointed to a portrait of a young girl wearing a bonnet. A bluebird had perched on a nearby limb. The colors were red and blue with soft white accents.

“Good choices for your room.” He picked them up. “I’ll put them near the back door.”

He took her farther into the house, then, showed her a large parlor with an expanse of windows, and a study with bookshelves built along the walls and a heavy dark wood desk. A framed oil painting of hunting dogs hung over the fireplace.

“Bought that one myself,” he told her. “Brought it back from Chicago.”

“I would love to see Chicago.”

“Newton’s a big city itself, you know,” he told her. “Some of the towns along the railroad are made up of a train depot, a livery and a couple of saloons.”

“Truly?”

He nodded.

“I guess it’s not necessarily the big city I want to see as much as the world outside of my small existence.”

“Your dream of takin’ a train trip,” he remembered aloud. “Did you ever think about workin’ at the Arcade? Those girls get free tickets to wherever they want to go.”

“My father wouldn’t even consider allowing me to work there. Or to go to a university. It took months of assurance for him to let me work for your sister.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully. “He was protectin’ you.”

“He was smothering me,” she said, and then immediately regretted her words. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken so unkindly. You’re right, he always had my best interests in mind.” She shivered and rubbed her palms together.

“Want somethin’ warm to drink?” Benjamin asked. “I can make coffee.”

“Do you have milk and cocoa? We could have hot chocolate by the fireplace. I can do it.”

He nodded. “I’ll help you start the stove and then set a fire in this grate.”

It was obvious that Benjamin had spent more time and energy making this place a home than he had the other house. Even for a bachelor’s home, the kitchen was well stocked and the cupboards held matching dishes and adequate cooking utensils.

She found mugs and a tray and carried their hot drinks to the study where Benjamin had a fire blazing. She set the tray on the braided rug and they seated themselves on the floor.

“I would spend all my time in here if this was my house,” she told him.

He took the mug she held toward him. “It’s my favorite room. It was Caleb’s study when they lived here.”

Lorabeth imagined the house filled with voices and laughter, the smell of Sunday dinner in the air. “You’re blessed to be part of the Chaney family.”

His gaze traveled to hers.

“Dr. and Mrs. Chaney have something rare and special,” she said. “You mentioned Dr. Chaney’s first wife. I don’t remember her.”

He looked at the fire for a moment. “Matthew told me she was never happy here. She wanted to live in a big city.”

“I don’t want to live in a big city,” Lorabeth told him. She didn’t want him to think she’d be a discontented wife. “I’d just like to see one.”

“She died after Nate was born. He needed someone to take care of Nate and that’s how he and Ellie met.”

“Was your mother alive then?” she asked.

“No.”

“You must’ve been pretty young then. Where did you and Ellie and Flynn live?”

Ben took a sip of his drink before forming a reply. “Ellie was workin’ at the Arcade.”

“That’s right. She was a Harvey Girl.”

He nodded. “Flynn and I were working on a farm near Florence.”

“Working? You were just children.”

“The state gave us to a foster family.”

She hadn’t known anything about that. “So this other family took care of you?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” His tone revealed pain she was sorry to dredge up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You weren’t pryin’.” But he didn’t say any more on the subject.

Would talk of his growing-up years always be off-limits?

“I enjoyed takin’ you to the harvest dance. I was real proud to dance with you.”

“I wasn’t very good at it.”

“I didn’t mean because of your dancin’ ability, I mean because of what a fine woman you are.”

His high opinion, along with the radiating heat from the fire, warmed her through and through. She draped her shawl over the arm of the chair behind her. “Just a simple Kansas girl,” she said with a shrug. “Never been farther than Topeka, and I don’t know beans about much other than gardening or keeping house.”

“Now, that’s not so.”

“No? What else do I know about?”

“Croquet and paper dolls and playin’ the piano. Flynn said you help him with his mathematic assignments. You kiss bumps and bruises. You’re wise and honest. And I’ve personally seen you talkin’ with a cat.”

She laughed. “Yes, of course. Cat language is one of my gifts.”

“Just one of many,” he added. “This is probably the best hot cocoa I’ve ever tasted.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is.” He paused, ducking his chin as though he was embarrassed. “I bought somethin’ for you….”

Her heart lifted in expectancy. Gifts were unheard of in her upbringing. “What is it?”

“You might think it’s silly.”

“I won’t. What is it?”

“It’s not much really. I was just thinkin’ of you when I was in the mercantile.” He got up and went to the desk, where he opened the top drawer and took out something flat and rectangular. He carried it back and sat across from her, extending the object.

“What is it?”

“Look.”

She accepted it and read the blue wrapper. “Chocolate. Made in Switzerland.”

“Do you like chocolate?”

“I think so. I’ve never had one of these. I use cocoa powder to bake.”

“Well, unwrap it and try it.”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

She carefully peeled away the wrapper and tin foil, exposing a solid bar of chocolate.

“Go ahead. Break off a piece,” Benjamin said.

She did, then placed the bite in her mouth and let it melt on her tongue. Lorabeth closed her eyes. Chocolate was a hundred times better than jelly beans! It melted into a creamy-textured delight.

After swallowing, she ran her tongue over her teeth and the roof of her mouth. “Imagine,” she said. “The people in Switzerland must try this every day while they’re making it.”

“Gonna share?”

She extended the wrapper for him to break off his own piece. He chewed slowly.

“Could be they do,” he replied. “In between bites of cheese, o’ course.”

They laughed together over that.

Lorabeth put another bite of chocolate in her mouth.

This time she chewed.

Benjamin reached between them to touch his thumb to the corner of her lips. A twig in the fire snapped and a log hissed. She met his eyes with a yearning desire to have more and know more…to have it all. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Seems I can’t
stop
thinkin’ about you, Lorabeth.”

“What is it you think of?”

“Your smile. Your shiny hair.” His gaze caressed her lips and hair. “About kissin’ you.”

“I think about that, too,” she admitted.

He leaned toward her and she met him halfway. They both moved in closer, and Lorabeth rested her fingertips on the front of his shirt.

With their lips nearly touching, she said, “Sometimes I think about you so much, nothing else seems real.”

Their lips met, and Lorabeth noticed the warmth, tasted the chocolate. His kiss was too gentle and unsettling for the hunger that quivered inside. She hooked her arm around his neck, and he responded by folding her into a hard embrace.

She loved the feel of her breasts crushed to his hard chest, his strong arms banding her. She’d never been this close to another person, never felt lovable or desirable or wanted. Benjamin’s embrace awakened her body to the hard planes of his chest and the wild beat of his pulse under her palm. She wanted to hold on to his solid presence, press herself into his heart and make herself indispensable.

He tore his mouth from hers to trail fiery kisses across her chin and down her neck. Lorabeth let her head fall back while shivers of pleasure washed across her shoulders and encompassed her whole being. If she’d been standing she would have collapsed in a heap.

Benjamin brought his lips back to hers, and she eagerly framed his face in both hands. He leaned over her, and this time their bodies lowered from where they sat until they lay side by side, Benjamin’s welcome weight pressing against her.

Giving herself over to yearning, she threaded her fingers into his hair, along his scalp, and pressed one hand to the back of his head. He trailed his fingertips down her neck and brought his hand to the front of her dress. At the feel of his touch against her breast, Lorabeth’s heart raced.

His touch was as lyrical as a poem and his mouth as sweet as the ripest fruit.
Set me as a seal upon thine heart,
she prayed.
Make me his.
He’d become her heart’s desire.
I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me.
The fact that he desired her was amazing. Almost too good to be true.

Lorabeth cherished the perfection of being in his arms, the tender way he held her. Her senses were more acute than they’d ever been. She smelled the soap he’d used that day, felt the heat of the fire along her side, saw the golden glint on his hair and lashes.

All her yearning, magical dreams were coming true. Her secret yearnings were being fulfilled one by one, and it was even better than she’d hoped. Benjamin was the man she’d prayed for.

His thick silken hair in her hands was a sensual thrill. Lorabeth trailed her fingers through it, along his neck to his jaw.

She wanted to touch more of him. She caressed his broad shoulders through the crisp fabric of his shirt, loving the solid feel of muscle beneath smooth warm flesh. He was so much broader and stronger than she, creating a perfect foil to her softness.

Benjamin cupped his palm around her breast and kneaded in a gentle yet breathtaking fashion. She’d never imagined that intimacy could feel so good and so right.

She loved the feel of his lips on hers, the weight of his body along her side.

Benjamin drew his mouth away and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. His breath fanned her skin there, sending shudders through her body.

“I prayed for you,” she whispered.

Ben raised his head. “What did I need prayer for?”

“No, I mean I
prayed
for you,” she said again. “For God to send you to me.”

He wasn’t so sure he was God’s answer to anyone’s prayers. The way he felt toward her right now wasn’t exactly holy. He’d wanted to kiss her again, had craved a taste of her, but it wasn’t enough. The feelings he had were taking on new proportions.