His Defiant Wife, the Adventures of Linnett Wainwright, Book 2 (10 page)

Linnett nodded
and tipped up the bottle, taking a large swig. Coughing, she wiped
her hand over the back of her mouth and passed the bottle over to
John.

“I wonder how
many married couples have their first year spent in the company of
pirates, are shipwrecked, meet natives and are attacked by wild
bears?” she mused solemnly.

“Not that many,
I should think,” John chuckled bravely before falling back onto the
pillows and losing consciousness.

Linnett removed
the whiskey bottle and smoothed the thick dark hair away from her
husband’s chiselled face, saying, “Well, who wants a conventional
marriage? Certainly not I at any rate!”

“What is the
date today?” Linnett asked John some weeks later.

“The
twenty-third. Good grief, do you realise that in two days’ time, it
will be Christmas!” John exclaimed in surprise.

Over the past
few weeks, John’s leg had healed well, and although it was still
very painful, the wound had scabbed over nicely and he had no fever
or infection even though the scratches were deep. John assured
Linnett that this was solely due to her meticulous care and
cleansing of the wounds. Bears, he informed her, had very dirty
claws and most who survived their initial attack died later from
the infection that followed.

John sat in a
chair, whittling himself a pipe. He marvelled as he watched Linnett
competently kneading the dough for bread. John still found it
astonishing that his butterfly girl had become such a domestic and
efficient wife.

“Christmas --
it will seem strange with only the two of us. I loved Christmas at
home with all the spicy smells, the dancing and the giving of
gifts. The boxing day hunts...” Linnet’s voice trailed off
sadly.

John rose
awkwardly and hobbled over to her, slipping an arm around her
waist, hugging her. “Our first Christmas together, we must make the
most of it because it may be the last we ever spend alone
together.”

John pressed
his lips to her brow and Linnett blushed.

She sighed. She
would love a baby, but it wouldn’t be born at Lavenstock Hall. She
turned excitedly to face him. “John, we could visit Hans and Sarah!
Oh please do let us try!”

John hated to
disappoint her. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but quite apart from the snow,
there’s my darned leg.”

Linnett nodded,
crestfallen. “Oh yes, your leg. I’d quite forgotten but never mind.
You are right; it may be the last Christmas we spend alone together
so we shall make it special! This afternoon I will start baking
some really tasty cakes and tarts.”

John laughed.
“I’ll fetch some greenery and decorate the cabin. I want it to feel
like a real Christmas for you.”

Linnett hugged
him. “Are you sure you want to risk your leg walking outside?”
Linnett asked worriedly.

“Yes,” John
answered firmly. He was tired of being an invalid, cooped up
inside.

Linnett kissed
him chastely on the cheek and danced away from him. “Now I must go
and tend to our animal friends. I have named the pony Pickle
because she’s so naughty, at home the cook always called me a
pickle.”

“I wonder why?”
asked John facetiously.

Linnett ignored
his comment. “She crept up behind me yesterday and pushed me flat
on my face with her nose!”

John chuckled.
“That’s because you spoil those damn horses.”

“I treat Amber
and Daisy the cow in exactly the same way as I treat Pickle, and
they are perfect ladies! I’m sorry, but Pickle is simply a
monster!”

Linnett made
her way over to the barn and began her daily chores of mucking out
and milking. John went to a chest and fetched a small wooden cask
that he had made for Linnett’s Christmas present, something to hold
her jewellery. She had lost most of her finery aboard the ship, but
the best and most valuable pieces they had saved. John was carving
the top of the casket with fruit and entwined leaves. He was quite
pleased with the way it was coming along and hoped he would be able
to finish it in time for Christmas Day.

Linnett had
finished milking Daisy, covered the pail of milk and went to a pile
of hay in which was hidden her Christmas present to John. She had
taken some of the green velvet that John had given her for
dressmaking and was in the last stages of making John a fine
waistcoat. Linnett had almost finished the embroidery work on the
front panels of the garment. When that was complete, all that was
needed to finish it off was the addition of five buttons. It was
the buttons that were causing her the most worry. She had no spare
ones available, and she couldn’t take any off John’s clothing
without his noticing. What to do? She would just have to give him
the gift minus the buttons and then he could decide which garment
to take the buttons from.

After an hour
of sewing, Linnett’s hands were frozen and she had had enough of
sitting outside in the barn, so she petted the horses, then left
them to their hay and closed up the barn. As she stepped into the
warm cabin, the wonderful astringent scent of wet woodland wafted
over her. Tangy and fresh, the smell of spruce and ivy mixed with
the heavier lingering smells of wintergreen and fir. John was
standing over a pile of freshly cut greenery trying to decide where
to place it.

“It smell’s
just heavenly in here!” Linnett exclaimed.

John looked up
from his labours. “Thank goodness you are back. I have absolutely
no idea where to put it all!” said John as he wiped his brow.

It had been a
little more tiring than he would care to admit, cutting and
dragging back branches, and his leg throbbed. He was quite relieved
to have Linnett’s help. Linnett hung up her cape and examined the
fragrant heap of greenery. “Let’s keep some outside to replace the
dead as it dries out,” she said. She gathered up an armful and
placed it to the side of the door ready to store outside.

Linnett stood
on a chair, and John handed up the greenery to her. When they had
finished, the cabin looked very festive. Linnett had found some red
ribbon in amongst her hair trinkets. She had tied bunches of
greenery together with the ribbon, and the splash of red enhanced
the green. It gave a real feel that Christmas was here. Linnett and
John spent a busy couple of afternoons preparing for their special
Christmas Day. Linnett baked and cooked while John stocked up fire
wood and melted snow over the fire for their water supply.

Christmas
morning dawned, and after kissing and wishing each other a Happy
Christmas, John said a prayer for their family and friends. He
asked the Lord to keep them safe and in good health. They even sang
a carol, but then John decided they must complete all the morning
chores. The routine was as any other day. They knew that certain
tasks, such as tending to the livestock, still needed to be done,
even though it was Christmas Day. They would wait until the work
was out of the way before settling down to a proper Christmas
celebration.

Linnett changed
into her green velvet dress made from the gift of cloth John bought
from the store for her birthday. She had set the meat to roast --
they were to eat a hunk of venison cut from the kill that John had
made before the natives had appeared. The cold weather had kept the
meat fresh. Linnett had made a herb suet crust to accompany the
meat and had soaked some dried peas overnight to prepare them to
cook with the meal. John looked resplendent in dark breeches and a
fine lawn white shirt.

Linnett fetched
him her gift, wrapped in a piece of plain calico and tied with a
red bow made from hair ribbon; she placed the package before him.
“Merry Christmas, my love!”

John unfolded
the cloth and lifted the waistcoat. Holding it up, he admired the
delicate embroidery on the front panels. Dark yellow ivy, entwined
with flowers in rich shades of gold, brown and russet red. It was a
beautifully made garment, and he knew that Linnett must have spent
many hours working on it to have produced such fine work.

John was deeply
touched, and he gathered her in his arms and held her close. “Thank
you, my darling, it is the most beautiful waistcoat I have ever
seen and I shall treasure it always. Now my gift to you, I hope you
will not be too disappointed when you see it. I am afraid it lacks
the skill and beauty of your waistcoat. Sit down and close your
eyes.”

Linnett did as
she was bid and John placed a heavy hard object in her lap. She
opened her eyes and exclaimed with delight, “Why, John, it is
lovely, a jewellery cask and so beautifully carved! Thank you my
darling.”

John laughed.
“I have been frantically carving the lid each time you went and saw
to the stock. I was so sure that you would come back and catch me
at it!”

Linnett
giggled, “And I have sat freezing cold in the barn each day sewing
until my fingers were too numb to sew!”

John looked
startled. “So you haven’t been feeding the stock? Poor creatures
will be dead from hunger!”

Linnett tapped
his arm playfully. “You! They are a pampered and spoilt lot of
beasts that seem to demand more of my time each day that I visit
them!”

John bent his
head and kissed her. “I know that you spoil the wretched creatures,
and that they will be totally unmanageable come spring! How is that
meat coming along? It smells absolutely delicious!”

Linnett checked
on the progress of their meal. “All’s well,” Linnett reported.
“Shall we play a game of chess and nibble some sweet tarts while we
play? The meal will not be ready for us to eat for at least a
couple of hours yet.”

John nodded his
agreement and set up the chess pieces at the table. They spent a
happy day enjoying one another’s company. After the game, which
John won yet again as he had all their previous games, they played
parlour games that Linnett had learned as a child, giggling and
teasing one another, each acutely aware of the other.

It had been a
few weeks since they had last enjoyed conjugal relations, and John
was determined that bad leg or no, he would pleasure his wife this
Christmas Night. The roast venison, glazed with honey, was
mouth-watering, and the accompanying suet crust and peas
complemented the venison perfectly. The two of them made complete
pigs of themselves, so that they had no room for the plum pudding
that Linnett had made for their dessert using a mixture of dried
fruits that Sarah had packed from her own stores.

“Never mind the
pudding, it will keep for tomorrow.” Linnett put all the dirty
dishes in boiling water and left them to soak overnight, having no
intention of washing them on Christmas Day. They played cards until
it grew dark and then John suggested they fetch quilts from the bed
and lie in front of the fire and he would read aloud to her.

Linnett wrapped
a blanket around them and John read to her from his favourite book,
The Iliad, by the Greek writer Homer, whose writings John much
admired. The book belonged to Sarah and was one of the books given
her by her studious parents on her marriage to Hans.

During one of
their conversations, John had mentioned his love of Homer’s writing
and Sarah had risen and fetched the book, insisting that John
borrow it to read through the long winter months. The Iliad was
about the Greek Trojan war and John chose to read the tale of the
Trojan Horse, a tale that Linnett had not heard before. She
listened, entranced by the tale of stealth, intrigue and
deception.

When finally
John stopped reading, she pleaded with him to continue the exciting
tale, but he shook his head, “No more! Enough is as good as a
feast!” John declared, snapping the book shut.

Linnett pouted.
“You do not even love me enough to continue reading to me,” she
sulked.

John was
amused. It had been a long time since he had seen Linnett in one of
her “little-girl moods.”

He pushed her
flat on her back and bent his head, firmly kissing her pouting lips
apart. His tongue thrust between her lips and he moved his mouth
against hers, demanding a response, but Linnett resisted. Worried
about John’s leg, she turned her head away. “John, stop, we cannot
do this, your leg...we might re-open the wound!”

John grasped
her chin and turned her head so that she faced him. He looked down
at her, his gaze unblinking. “I want you now. I will be careful of
my leg, but I can wait no longer.”

He bent his
head again to her lips, and this time Linnett wound her arms around
his neck and clung to her husband, her need for him as great as his
own need for her. John pulled away and started to remove Linnett’s
clothes. He stripped her slowly and kissed each unclothed area of
tender flesh as he uncovered her. Finally naked, her skin turned a
burnished rosy gold by the flickering flames of the fire. As John
removed his shirt, he savoured the sight of her voluptuous body as
she lay on her back watching him, impatient for him to join
her.

Her honey-gold
hair spilled around her, the colour intensified by the fiery red
light thrown out from the fire. Her eyes flashed from turquoise to
green as she moved and stretched seductively in the warmth of the
glowing firelight. John flung his shirt aside and unbuttoned his
breeches, easing them down so that his engorged manhood sprung
free. Linnett stretched out a languorous hand and ran her fingers
lightly up the length of the firm shaft. He pulsed at her touch and
she slid her hand downwards, cupping all of him in the palm of her
hand.

“Why do you not
remove your breeks?” she asked.

“I thought they
may lend protection to my leg,” he replied.

Linnett nodded
while raising herself up to kneel before him. She tossed her head,
throwing back her hair, which cascaded and rippled down her back
like molten gold. Leaning forward, she drew John’s shaft into her
mouth. Her breasts were thrust forward, her nipples taut with
excited anticipation. John lifted her breasts and rubbed his thumbs
across her aching nipples, the peaks growing swollen and hard at
his touch. He looked down at her sweet mouth working on him,
teasing his swollen member with her darting pink tongue, a
sensation of exquisite delight flooding up through his manhood. He
freed himself from her tender mouth and pushed her down onto her
back. He lay with his head at the cleft between Linnett’s legs and
placed his manhood close to her mouth.