Romance: Luther's Property (61 page)

What can I tell you about William’s farm? Coming onto the
land was like riding into paradise. Everything was green and healthy, vibrantly
growing. The gardens were not like any I’d ever seen before: instead of long
rows, William had many small plots divided into squares. The wheat and corn grew
in curving, arced lines that traced around the field in a lacelike pattern.

“This is called contour planting,” William explained. “I am
trying to see if it helps reduce the amount of soil the wind steals away from
me.”
 
He pulled the team to a stop in front
of a small, tidy
 
home.
 
When he looked at me, it was clear he was
still nervous. “And here we are.”

Shotsi leaped out of the wagon and ran up onto the porch.

“It’s lovely,” I said to William.

“Let me show you the inside.”
 
He helped me out of the wagon, and we
followed the dog. The house was surprisingly similar to the one I’d left
behind; it had two stories, white clapboard siding, and a front room lined with
bookcases.

“You know what made me answer your ad?” I asked William.

“No,” he said, quite seriously. “What?”

“The must love to read part.” The cases were full of titles;
some I recognized, but others, particularly those of a scientific nature, were
new to me. One name was familiar. “You have Origin of Species!”

William went very still. “I do.”

I clapped my hands. “That’s wonderful! I’ve heard about it,
of course, but have only been able to read what the papers say about it.”

“Does it bother you,” William asked slowly, “that the papers
say that Darwin’s work is counter to how God works?”

“God works in mysterious ways,” I replied. “And I’m not at
all certain we should be sure we know what those ways are. So who are we to say
what’s counter to them, and what’s merely a revelation of his hand at work?”

I was shocked by William’s sudden embrace, and doubly
shocked by how good it felt to be in his arms. “You may be the first miracle I
have ever encountered,” he said, before pressing his lips to mine. “A beautiful
woman who thinks for herself.”

William was the first man I had ever kissed besides my
Father, and of course, that was entirely different. But it turns out that I
must kiss passably well, because he kissed me again and again. I could feel my
heart leaping in my throat, a jumping in the veins that he quickly covered with
his lips; this sent an electric shiver through my body. William noticed and
clutched at me tightly. His body was so foreign to mine and yet felt so
familiar; I leaned into his strength with ease.

“Ach,” he said, stepping back after a moment. “If we’re
going to do this properly – and I am a man who likes to do things properly – we
will have to wed.” He cocked his head. “That is if you’re willing?”

“I am,” I said confidently. I’d never felt surer of anything
in my life. Compared with all my other options – Robert Benson back home, or trying
to forge a life entirely on my own – marrying William was an absolute
no-brainer. “And sooner, rather than later.”

“I am happy for you, William, that you have found such a
beautiful bride,” Pastor Hofmann said. “But why is there such a hurry to the
altar?” His gaze fell to my stomach briefly before searching William’s eyes.

William blushed scarlet, while I rushed in to explain.

“Oh, no, Father. Reverend. Pastor.” We didn’t have Lutherans
back home in the Valley, so I was not sure of the proper term of address. “It’s
not what you may be thinking.”

Pastor Hofmann smiled kindly. “Then tell us what it is. For
William is dear to our church and our family. If you are going to be part of
his life, there should be no secrets between us.”

“Otto! You are scaring the girl.” This came from the
Pastor’s wife, a short, stout woman who introduced herself as Patience. “You
mustn’t mind my husband. It’s just that we’ve known William since he was a
young man.” She laid her hand on the Pastor’s shoulder affectionately. “It
makes him too protective. He needs to remember what it is like to be young and
in love.” She smiled at me in a way that made me feel as if I’d known her for
always. “We cannot wait to be with our sweethearts.”

“That is true,” I said, “but it’s not the only thing.” I had
determined that I was not going to come to William with any secrets between us;
if my history was such that he didn’t want me in his life, I had to respect
that. He was too good of a man to have my problems with Richard Benson suddenly
sprung upon him unawares. “It all started when my Father needed a new printing
press for his shop.”

The trio – William, Pastor Hofmann and his wife – all
listened attentively as I told the tale of the print shop fire, the devilish
bargain Benson had forced my father into, and how quickly he’d returned from
Boston to claim my hand in marriage. Their expressions grew more and more
serious with every word, and by the time I’d finished relaying my concerns
about what had truly happened to Kitty Benson, it was clear that William was
incensed.

“Money is the root of all evil,” he said. “These wealthy men
think they can do anything, and never face the consequences of their actions!”

“Be at peace, William,” Pastor Hofmann said. “Benson will
face his judgement day when the time comes, the same as the rest of us.” He
turned toward me. “Marriage is a sacred vow, young lady. You shouldn’t feel
forced into it. If you’re not ready to marry William of your own free will, you
should know that we are willing to shelter and protect you.”

That was the last thing I expected to hear, and tears sprang
to my eyes. “Thank you,” I managed to whisper. “That means a lot to me.” I
reached out and took William’s hand. “But I am quite certain that it is in my
heart to marry William. If we are rushing, so be it, but this is the same
choice I would make a week from
 
now, or
even a month from now.”

“So long as all that?” Patience said with a smile. She
clapped her husband on the shoulder. “These two need to be married. Go put on
your good suit. I’ll get the church opened up.”

It was a small wedding: Pastor Hofmann, his wife, their
seven children, William and me.

“I don’t even have a proper dress,” I confessed to Inge, the
Hofmann’s oldest daughter. She had just turned sixteen, and clearly found the
story of William’s impending marriage to be extremely romantic.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You look absolutely
beautiful in that green dress.” She produced a length of wide lace from a
basket. “And we can pin this up in your hair to make a veil.”

“I’ve got the bouquet,” one of the younger children chimed
in. “I picked it myself!” Clutched in her chubby fist was a bountiful spray of
Queen Anne’s Lace and Brown Eyed Susies.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, taking it from her and bending to
give her a kiss. “Thank you so much.”

“Come on,” she said. “Mama’s going to play Here Comes the
Bride for you!”

The church was small and plain, which meant the piano music
easily filled it to overflowing. I heard the familiar notes echoing off the
walls as I walked down the aisle between the pews. William was waiting for me,
hands clasped before him, a big smile on his face.

Papa’s words echoed in my head. “Do what you have to do to
survive.” Somehow, through the sheerest chance, I’d found a way to escape
Richard Benson. In just a few minutes, I’d be married, and no matter how
wealthy or powerful my would-be suitor was, there’d be nothing he could do
about it.

Our ride home from the church was much quieter than our ride
home from the train station. Suddenly, William and I were shy with each other.
The road was wide and empty; above us, a million stars sparkled in a twilight
gray sky.

“It’s been quite a day,” I said.

“It has,” he agreed. “I many times have imagined this day,
but I never really thought it would happen for real. I thought I would spend
all of my days a bachelor.”

“Really?” I looked at him. “Why would you possibly think
that?”

“Why wouldn’t I think it?” his shock was equal to
 
my own.

“You’re very smart and hardworking,” I said. “It’s clear
that Pastor Hofmann and his family respect you greatly. Any girl would be lucky
to have you, Patience said, and she’s right about that.” I could feel myself
blushing, but forced myself to continue. “And of course, you’re quite
handsome.”

William blushed. “Do you think so?”

“I do.” I scooted over on the wagon seat until the sides of
our legs were pressed against each other. Even through the thick folds of my
green dress and his dungarees, I could feel the heat of him, and it made me
want him.

“And you are quite beautiful too,” he said. He put his arm
around me, letting his fingers play with my hair. “In all my imagining, never
once did my girl have curls the color of fire.” He paused for a second. “Of
course, that makes statistical sense. Maybe three in one hundred people are red
heads, if I remember my reading.”

His digression made me smile. “It runs in families,” I said.
“My mother was a red head, and the odds are good that our children will be as
well.”

The mention of children put us both in mind of how progeny
are produced. A new energy entered the air around us; I was very aware of how
William felt against me. How he sounded. How he smelt. Every bit of it was
wonderful.

“You know,” he said slowly. “What is to come…”

“Yes?” I said, leaning against him.

“It is not something I have done before.” I was silent for a
moment, and he must have found the pause awkward, because his words tumbled out
like puppies through a gate. “I mean, I’m familiar with the concepts…from the
literature….”

“It’s all right,” I said. “We’re bright people. I’m sure
we’ll figure it out.”

When we arrived back at William’s house, he was determined
to carry me over the threshold. “We may not have had much in the way of
tradition,” he said, “but we will have this
 
much.” He swept me up easily; clearly he was every bit as strong as I’d
imagined. I rolled against his chest and leaned up into his kiss, my arms
around his neck.

We went through the house, kissing. He laid me gently on the
bed and stared at me for a long moment. “You are very beautiful, Abigail.” He
leaned forward and started unbuttoning the bodice of my green dress. “And I
think without this, you will be even more beautiful.”

I laughed. “Let me do that,” I said. “My fingers are faster
than yours.”

He grinned at my eagerness. “I am willing to believe
this.”
 
His expression grew more serious
as the fabric parted, revealing the corset I wore below. “Like two fawns, the
twins of a gazelle,” he said, gazing at my bosom. “May I kiss you there?”

“Of course,” I said, opening my arms wide. “You are my
husband.”

I’d expected William’s kisses to feel wonderful; those he
had already placed on my lips and neck had been sheer delight. But it turns out
that I was wholly unaware of what wonderful truly meant. Every touch of
William’s lips upon my bosom brought forth wave after wave of sensation. I came
fully alive, shivering from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Am I scaring you?”

“No,” I said, pulling him close against me. “You’re bringing
a new part of me into being.” He smiled and I sighed. “And it is wonderful.”

As we kissed my underclothes somehow came right off;
William’s shirt fluttered to the floor with amazing speed. Seeing him unclothed
was a revelation; my eyes drank in the sparse gold fur covering the muscles of
his chest. His stomach had lines that spoke to the long hours he’d spent
working in the fields and orchard, and below that I found new delights to discover.

William would ask, before each touch, “May I?” To say yes
was such a pleasure; I wanted to give the same to my new husband. So I
stretched forth my hand and let my finger tips brush against the side of his
swollen member.
 
His eyes flew to meet
mine, wide and startled. “May I?” I whispered.

He didn’t speak, just nodded. As my grip grew more certain
William bit his lower lip. It was his turn to shake; his arms trembled like
birch trees in a gale. The first stroke of his shaft brought forth a gasp from
his lips. This deepened into a moan as I tried the action again and again.

Watching him in pleasure increased my own need. It felt so
natural to let my legs fall open and guide the tip of William’s cock to the
edge of my desire. For a moment we were frozen in that position, barely
touching and intensely aware of every point of contact. I looked at him, and he
looked at me, and at the same time, we said “May I?”

After that, we stopped talking. Having him inside of me took
all of my breath; each thrust forced all the air from my lungs, each retreat
forced inhalation. Every bit of my being was centered on William. I could feel
his heartbeat echoing inside my own chest. His tempo became my own. We moved
faster and faster until at last, my husband cried aloud, “May I?”

I answered the only answer possible, “Yes!”

Father’s letter arrived 23 days into my marriage with
William. It arrived in the post with the journals he subscribed to, addressed
to me by my maiden name in a most familiar script. I brought it to William
unopened.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding the envelope aloft.

“It’s from my Father,” I said. “Or so I believe.”

“It’s addressed to you,” William replied. “Or so I believe.”
He tossed the envelope on the table in front of me.

“You don’t want to open it?”

“Of course not.” William opened up one of the journals that
had arrived in the post and started to scan the page. “It’s your mail.”

Surprised, I picked up the envelope. I noticed that William
was watching me as I opened it, but he acted as if he was still reading.

“You can be curious, you know,” I said.

“I am and I’m not,” he said. “For the first time in my life,
I think there’s something I might not want to know.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“A man wants his in-laws to think well enough of him,”
William said. “And your Father may not be in a position to think charitably of
me.”

I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

“When you left, your erstwhile fiancée didn’t get the
payment he expected.” I’d told William how Kitty had come to be Richard
Benson’s wife, and what had happened to her family when she’d disappeared. “And
we know he is not a man who forgives debts.”

“Great,” I said. “Now I don’t want to read this either.”

“And then there’s the question of how he knew where to send
the letter,” William added. “You’ve not contacted him, so how did he get our
address?”

That question sent shivers running down my spine. William
was looking at the envelope again. “He doesn’t know we’re married, I suspect,
or he wouldn’t have used your maiden name to post this.”

“Still,” I said. “Somehow, he has tracked me down.”

“I imagine Mr. Robert Benson has a hand in this,”
 
William said. “Both the discovery of your
location and the genesis of this letter.”

“Why would you say that?” I asked.

“Because your Father would probably much prefer that you
never be found,” William said. “He loves you. He didn’t want you married off to
this murderous bastard.”

“You’re awfully certain of that, for someone who’s never met
my Father.” My hands were shaking. I didn’t want to read the letter. I was
afraid of what I would read there – the recriminations, the hardships Benson
was imposing on him, the fact he was forced to sleep in an open field somewhere
because he’d been forced out of the house. All of those things would be my
fault. “If it’s in his best interests that I go back to Virginia, then that’s
what this will say.”

“Even if that is what it says, you’re not going to go back,”
William said. “Your home is here now.” He reddened a little and said, “That is,
as long as you’re happy.”

“I’m happier than I’ve ever been, William,” I said. “That is
God’s own truth.”

“So you might as well read it,” he replied. “It’s always
better to know than to not know.”

“I hope you’re right.” Father was always wordy; I wasn’t surprised
to see the envelope was thick with a pair of folded pages. I was surprised to
discover one page entirely blank and the other filled by just two sentences, a
scant ten words long:

Get away as fast as you can! Benson is coming!