When the dance was over, Carl led Anne over to the table where his pregnant wife Julia sat with his parents. Anne shook their hands, making small talk. He imagined her asking Julia when her baby was due and how she was feeling. His wife was a caring and compassionate person.
His mother took the seat beside him. “I think she’s going to fit into the community just fine. People already like her.”
“Of course they do. She’s wonderful.”
Astrid chuckled. “Be careful, dear. People will start thinking you’re in love with your wife.”
“Let them think what they want.”
“For what it’s worth, I believe the two of you will have a good marriage.”
“I just want to make her happy.” Maybe if she was happy, she’d want to stay.
She patted his hand. “You will.”
A woman’s scream sounded over the noise of the band. The accordion player faltered, and then stopped playing. Again the woman screamed.
“Help! My son is choking! He can’t breathe!”
General confusion enveloped the community hall. A call went out to find the doctor, but everyone knew that by the time the doctor arrived from the next town the child could be dead. Erik watched Anne push her way through the crowd. He followed her as best he could. By the time he reached her, she was standing behind a small boy with her hands locked around his midsection.
She spoke to the child in a calm voice. “Don’t worry, love. Everything’s going to be fine.”
She pushed her hands upward, thrusting into his upper abdomen with enough force to lift the boy off his feet. Still he clutched at his throat, unable to breath. Anne pushed again. Something flew out of his mouth, landing several feet away. He began crying for his mother, who scooped him into her arms, tears streaming down her face.
“Thank you, thank you! I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“I’m just glad he’s all right now.”
The boy’s father shook Anne’s hand. “He coughed up a small piece of hard candy. It’s hard to believe something as simple as that almost killed him. I can’t thank you enough.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
He put his hand on his wife’s shoulder as their son continued to cry in his mother’s arms. “I think we’ll head home. Congratulations on your wedding, and again, thank you.”
“Good night.”
Erik put his arm around Anne’s waist. “Well done, Mrs. Gustafson.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gustafson. I was lucky. Those abdominal thrusts sometimes injure people, especially a child as tiny as this one.”
Erik’s heart swelled with pride. She was an amazing woman. If she hadn’t known what to do, if she hadn’t remained calm, the boy would have died.
He kissed her, not caring that the whole town watched. He loved her and probably had since the moment he met her at the train station. He knew he’d never love anyone as deeply as he loved Anne.
For one moment he let himself hope that their marriage would last, that Anne would love him. But he knew too well the hardships of living on the farm. And he knew he wasn’t the man she wanted. But when she kissed him, he could almost believe he was.
Erik locked away his feelings, afraid to hope.
Chapter Nine
Anne and Erik drove the old truck back to the farm in the wee hours of the morning. The reception had been wonderful, so different from weddings she’d attended in England. She hadn’t expected the entire town to show up to wish them well. Anne snuggled deeper into the quilt Erik had bundled her in, feeling warm and happy sitting next to her husband.
“It was good of Astrid’s friend to invite her and Ingrid to stay the night. She said she’d bring them home in time for milking tomorrow morning.”
“They wanted to give us a little privacy on our wedding night.”
Their wedding night.
The thought of spending the night in Erik’s bed, wrapped in his arms, caused a thrill of anticipation to skitter up her spine. At the same time, her nerves flared. Would she make him happy? After tonight would he be sorry he’d jumped into marriage with her?
Erik pulled the truck into the garage, and they walked across the snow-covered farmyard to the house in the moonlight. When Anne slipped in the snow in the high heels she’d brought from England, Erik snaked a hand around her waist to steady her, bringing her tightly against his side. He smiled down at her.
“Hang on to me.”
“I will.”
For the rest of my life.
The house was cold when they entered and Anne shivered despite the winter jacket she wore. The wedding gown, borrowed from one of Ingrid’s friends, was beautiful, but the delicate satin and lace didn’t lend much warmth. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
Erik lit the coal-oil lantern, then loaded wood against the banked embers in the stove. “The house will warm up soon.” He brought a blanket from the other room and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Maybe this will help.”
“Thank you.” She touched his face, looking deeply into his eyes and trying to convey all she felt in her heart. “You’re so kind. I’m a very lucky bride.”
He blinked, surprise evident in his eyes. Then he smiled. “I have something for you.”
He opened a cupboard and pulled out a small box from between the cups and saucers. He handed it to her, watching her face as if gauging her reaction.
“Open it.”
She lifted the lid of the small jeweler’s box. Inside, lying on a bed of cotton batting, a delicate gold chain glittered in the light of the lantern. Anne took it out of the box and held it up to the light. A small heart-shaped locket hung from the chain.
“It belonged to my grandmother,” Erik said. “She brought it with her from Norway. My grandfather gave it to her on their wedding day. If you open the locket, you’ll see their initials engraved inside.”
Anne tripped the tiny catch and the locket split in two, revealing elaborately scrolled engraving.
“S and H,” Anne read. “There’s something written on the bottom, but I can’t make it out.”
“It’s in Norwegian. It gives the date of their marriage, August 1, 1890, and then below that it says, ‘Forever and always.’ My grandmother was a remarkable woman. She always treated me as if I was special.” He paused, staring at the chain. “If you don’t like it, I can get you something else as a wedding gift.”
“I don’t want anything else. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
That he would give her something of his grandmother’s that meant so much to him humbled her even as it made her heart soar. She loved Erik more with each passing moment.
She handed him the chain. “Can you put it on for me?”
She turned around, lifting her hair out of the way. Erik placed the locket around her neck. She felt his fingers lingering against the tender skin of her nape and trembled when he placed a gentle kiss there. Carefully, he turned her to face him.
“Will you come upstairs with me?”
She knew what he was asking. Would she take that final step in becoming his wife? Would she lie with him, make love with him?
She wanted to be with Erik more than anything in the world. She wanted to sleep with him every night for the rest of their lives.
With trembling fingers, she reached for his hand. It felt warm and solid against hers, and in that moment she knew everything would be all right.
“Yes, I’ll come upstairs with you.”
****
Erik carried the lantern up the stairs as Anne followed him. The lantern cast a surreal glow against the stairwell walls, perfectly reflecting how he felt. He couldn’t believe Anne was here with him, that she was his wife, and that soon they’d be making love on his old cast iron bed. How would she react when she saw the scars on his leg? She was a nurse and had probably seen much worse. But he wasn’t perfect, and Anders had been. Again he wondered if they had slept together.
No, he wouldn’t think about it. Not tonight.
He forced the thought of the two of them in bed together from his mind. For tonight, she was his. Only his.
He placed the lantern on his dresser and turned to Anne. “I’m sorry it’s so cold in here. It shouldn’t take long for the woodstove to warm things up. Maybe I should start the heater in the parlor.”
Anne stopped him with a hand on his arm as he took a step toward the door. “No, don’t go. Maybe…maybe if you hold me, I’ll feel warmer.”
He drew her into his arms. “Is that better?”
She rested her head against his chest, the top of her head reaching just below his chin. They fit perfectly together, like the two halves of the locket she wore around her neck.
“Much better. But my feet are frozen.”
Erik looked down at her feet, bare except for her stockings. “We’ll soon fix that.”
He led her to the bed and made her sit on the edge. Kneeling on his good leg, he took both her feet into his hands and gently massaged.
“That’s lovely,” she said, smiling. “It reminds me of when you warmed my feet after I fell into the dugout.”
“Don’t remind me. You could have died that night.”
“But I didn’t. You saved me. My knight in shining armor.”
“I’m no knight, and I’m certainly no hero.”
“You are to me.”
Erik looked up into her face, his heart racing. Did she really feel that way? The lantern light partially lit her soft smile. She reached out her hand and touched his face.
“Would you unbutton my dress? I can’t reach them on my own.”
He sat next to her and she turned her back to him, once more moving her hair out of the way. The tiny fabric-covered buttons ran down her back from her neck to below her waist. He started at the top, his fingers clumsy as they worked the delicate buttons. As the satin of her dress parted, the creamy skin of Anne’s back was gradually revealed. His fingers brushed against her smooth flesh. That tiny touch aroused him more than anything he could ever imagine.
Finally the buttons were all undone. Erik pushed the fabric from her shoulders, letting his hands slide down her arms. Warm butter-soft skin flowed against his calloused fingers.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
She rose then and, turning to face him, pulled her arms from the long sleeves of the dress, allowing it to glide over her slim hips and pool at her feet. Beneath, she wore a white slip trimmed with lace. Erik watched in fascination as she pushed the thin straps of the slip from her shoulders and let it too fall to the floor. She stood in front of him wearing nothing but a brassiere and panties, a garter belt holding up her stockings. Erik stared at her bare upper thighs, at the point where the stockings ended. He’d never seen skin so beautiful.
And he’d never been more aroused.
She opened each snap of the garter belt, then sat next to him on the bed once more. Raising her leg, she slowly rolled the stocking down to her ankle. She repeated the movement on the other leg. Despite the chill in the room, sweat rolled down Erik’s back. When she reached behind her to undo her brassiere, he could stand it no longer.
“Let me.”
She lowered her arms, her gaze level with his. He reached behind her and with one quick movement unhooked the brassiere. He pulled it from her, releasing her beautiful breasts. They were full and round, the dusky nipples puckered to hard points, whether from the cold or from desire, he wasn’t sure. He ached to touch them. Anne read his mind. She took his hand and placed it over her left breast.
Her breath hitched at his touch. He tested the weight of her breast in his hand. It fit perfectly, the skin so delicate beneath his work-roughened hands he was afraid of hurting her. Then she shivered, and Erik jolted back to earth, realizing she was all but naked in a frigid room. He pulled back the blankets and gently pushed her onto her back, covering her with the quilt.
“I wouldn’t want my wife to get pneumonia on our wedding night.”
She chuckled. “No, that wouldn’t do at all. Aren’t you going to undress?”
He hesitated, then made a move to turn off the lantern. She didn’t need to see the ugliness of his scars. Not tonight.
“No, please, leave it on. I want to see you,” she said.
“Anne—”
“I know you have scars. It doesn’t matter. I just want to see my husband. Please.”
He could deny her nothing. Slowly he removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes fixed on hers. She watched his every movement, not speaking until he’d removed all his clothing and stood naked in front of her, his erection hard and impatient.
“You’re beautiful,” she said simply.
She reached out her hand to him, and he grasped it. Sliding into the bed next to her, he let her put her arms around him, her warmth enveloping him. He kissed her, wanting to take it slowly, wanting to make her pleasure last. But from the moment her lips touched his, he knew slow was not an option. She moaned and arched her back as he pushed her panties down her hips, exposing every inch of her skin to his touch. Reverently, Erik glided his hands over her back, her thighs, her buttocks, finally coming to a stop at the thatch of hair between her legs.
“I want to touch you,” he said, holding her gaze in the dim light. “Will you let me?”
“Yes,” she breathed on an urgent whisper. “Yes, please.”
He parted her thighs and gently began to stroke the soft folds. Anne closed her eyes and made a sound of pleasure deep in her throat. When he inserted his finger deep inside her, her eyes flew open.
“Erik! Oh, God!”
She convulsed around his finger, tremors racing through her body. He captured her lips for a deep kiss, glad he was able to bring her this pleasure. But now his body ached for its own release.
He covered her body with his, his erection poised at the opening to her womb. With great care, he pushed gradually inside her, watching her eyes for any sign of discomfort. At last he felt her moist heat surrounding him. Erik paused for a moment, willing his release to wait, and savoring this magical joining of his body to Anne’s.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“No, oh, God, no.” She arched her back and lifted her hips. “Please, don’t stop.”
He needed no further encouragement. Though pain shot through his leg, he pushed deep inside her. He held back, trying to take it slowly and gently for her. But Anne would have none of it.