His Brother's Wife Page 10

  His hands were shaking so much he struggled to get out of his clothes. When he removed his drawers and his aroused manhood shot out, her eyes widened.

  “Don’t be afraid, darlin’, it will be good between us.” He joined her on the bed. Starting with her toes, he licked and kissed every inch of her smooth, trembling body.

  “You’re beautiful, Mattie, so beautiful.”

  Her breathing was rapid. Passion had darkened her normally hazel eyes to green.

  He kissed her on the mouth, a long delving kiss, and at the same time moved between her thighs. Easing himself inside her, he fought to control his rampaging need. A fiery desperation for a beautiful women after months of self-imposed celibacy, pain and heartache.

  Mattie couldn’t believe how Will was making her feel, beautiful and wanted. His passion was gentle, she sensed he was fighting to restrain himself. The heat of her desire clashed with his. A band of musicians played inside her head, while her deepest recess convulsed with a primitive, all-consuming need, sending spirals of flame to her womb.

  Suddenly something snapped between them, he started thrusting, her hips instantly levitated to allow him deeper penetration. As they toppled over the edge, she cried out his name. He threw back his head and roared.

  Later, as they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, sated and content, she whispered sleepily. “Thank you, Will. That was beautiful.”

  She was truly his wife, even if another man’s name appeared on her wedding certificate.

  ***

  Over the next ten months, Mattie fell more deeply in love with Will. He was passionate in their bed at night, always thoughtful, kind and hardworking. But, he had never uttered the words she now longed to hear – I love you.

  The kitchen door banged open, a gust of cold air raced in followed by Will. His arms were full of neatly cut logs. He dumped them in a box on the hearth.

  “How are you feeling, darlin’?” He came over to where she sat at the table chopping vegetables, and kissed her.

  “Weary and fat.”

  He grinned. “Not long now.” He reached down and patted her swollen belly. “How’s my son doing?”

  “He’s restless, kicking like an angry mule.”

  Will sat down, took the knife from her and started chopping the vegetables. “I told you to rest. I came back early to get supper ready for us. You know, I reckon it’s cold enough to snow. The wind blowing down from the mountain is arctic.”

  “I feel so tired and weepy. I don’t know why.”

  “You’re nearly ready to give birth, that’s why. I still think we should get a midwife for the delivery.”

  “No.”

  “There’s a widow woman who lives on Sawmill Road. Ludwig, the butcher in Maldon, said she delivered all six of his children.”

  “I only want you. You said you helped Anna, and we’ve got an instruction book.”

  “I know, but what if something goes wrong. You know how much this baby means to both of us.”

  “I can’t have anyone else. If I’m in agony I might blurt out something I shouldn’t.” Their deadly secret still played havoc with her nerves sometimes. As time passed, she prayed it would lessen. Sometimes, guilt at the dastardly deed she had committed, almost overwhelmed her.

  Don’t be foolish. You now have a man who is kind and considerate. A man who was fond of her, but could never love her.

  He had been coming home for the midday meal most days now, and he tried to be home by late afternoon, so she wouldn’t be alone for too long. He was starting to look tired and drawn from trying to do too much too quickly. She loved him all the more for it, though.

  She had discarded old Mrs. McIntyre’s clothes because Will had insisted she buy one ready-made gown, and several lengths of material to make clothes for herself. They did most of their shopping in Maldon now, as it was where Will sold their sheep and cattle to the butcher.

  “Go and sit in the armchair, you’ll be more comfortable. Why do you think I brought it into the kitchen?”

  “It was my idea originally, so you wouldn’t have to light the parlor fire,” she said.

  “I probably would have thought of it as I’m the one doing all the wood chopping.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t do more.” With his help, she levered herself up from the kitchen table and waddled over to the armchair he had positioned to the right of the fireplace near the window so she could look out. It was here she did most of her sewing.

  The baby’s layette was finished. She had washed and prepared what Will said they might need for the birth and placed them in a dish covered with a piece of clean cloth. All they had to do was wait for when the baby decided it was time to come.

  She watched Will dice the vegetables and toss them into the pan where the meat had been simmering. For a man he was quite handy in the kitchen.

  “Now, your cup of tea,” he said. They had started buying coffee for him, but she didn’t particularly like the taste. Too bitter for her liking.

  He handed her the cup.

  “Thank you, aren’t you having one?”

  “No, I’ll do the milking then I’ll clean out the hen house. Won’t take me long. Put your feet up.” He pulled over a foot stool he had made for her.

  “You should keep your legs elevated, it will help with the swelling.”

  “I know my ankles are fat and ugly.” Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t understand her fluctuating mood swings. One minute happy, the next depressed and teary eyed.

  “They are not fat and ugly. Come on. I know you’re uncomfortable, but there isn’t much longer to go.” He sighed. “You’re only eighteen, too young to be having a baby. I shouldn’t have got you…”

  “I’m glad you did. I don’t think I would have survived living the way we were. You certainly wouldn’t have.”

  He laughed. “You can be a saucy little minx sometimes, but you’re right. Thinking back, I was close to being at the end of my tether. I just wish we could have been properly wedded.”

  “For all intents and purposes we are married.”

  “Yeah, but we both know that we aren’t.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I am, at the very least, your common law wife.”

  He kissed her on the mouth, not much more than a brushing of lips against each other, but every nerve ending felt it. She couldn’t believe how much she still desired what they had shared before her pregnancy became too advanced for him to do anything, but cuddle and caress her.

  Twenty minutes later, Will brought in a bucket of milk and placed it on the table. He had the collar of his fur lined jacket turned up, but still looked cold. “I’ll attend to the chickens now.” He strode off.

  A few minutes later he stormed into the kitchen. “Sonofabitch,” he snarled. “Damn feral dogs have gotten in and killed most of the chickens.”

  “Oh, no.”

  He took a couple of shuddering breaths. “Sorry for snarling at you. I’m going to set a couple of traps, have your supper, I’ll eat mine when I’ve finished.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  “I recall seeing rabbit traps in the shed, I’ll use them. Would you mind if I grabbed a few chunks of meat from the stew to bait them with?”

  “Take as much as you need.”

  “It’s not strictly normal practice, but it might coax them in close enough to get caught. I’d lay a few baits, but I don’t like the idea of wildlife getting hold of them,” he surprised her by saying.

  After he left, she didn’t feel like eating on her own. Her back ached, a gnawing toothache type of pain. She stood up and water gushed out onto the floor. The next thing pain shot through her stomach, so strong and fierce she doubled over with the force. She had gone into labor.

  “Will, please hurry up and come back,” she cried out.

  Using the wall to support herself, she made it to the bedroom. In between contractions, which were coming hard and fast, she wrestled her way out of her clothes and slipped into
a nightgown. After several attempts she was able to climb into bed.

  Hurry, Will, please hurry. She tried not to scream, but the pain became so excruciating she couldn’t stop it exploding from her mouth.

  How long she lay writhing and sobbing in pain and fear, she had no idea. She was going to die. This was God’s punishment for her sins. She heard the kitchen door open and screamed out.

  Will charged up the hallway, she could hear the sound of his boots beating a loud, rapid tattoo on the floorboards. He skidded to a halt at the foot of the bed. “Are you all right?”

  “No. No, it’s coming.”

  “I’ll be back.” He dashed out of the room.

  The wind howled outside now, rain lashed the windows. What a wild night for a baby to enter the world.

  When Will returned he had changed into clean clothes, and brought with him towels, old sheeting and a steaming dish of water, containing scissors, twine and a knife.

  Between contractions Mattie watched him alternately pacing the floor and checking on her. He had bought a wicker-work crib in Maldon, and she had sewn all the baby’s clothes and linen herself.

  As the wind increased in ferocity outside, so did her pain. Finally, she felt an overwhelming desire to push. Will had positioned the bed against the wall and she lay sideway across it, to give him easier access to her parted thighs.

  “Come on darlin’, push. You’ve started to open, it can’t be long now.” He wiped the sweat from his brow on his rolled up sleeve.

  A loud clap of thunder shook the house, followed immediately by her screams. Lightning flashed across the sky, momentarily lighting up the room. A minute later, Mattie felt a whooshing sensation.

  “It’s a boy.” She heard Will’s triumphant cry, this was followed by the baby’s loud wails.

  “Is he all right?”

  “Yes, looks to be. Let me finish up here, then you can hold him.”

  “You’re a good midwife.”

  “Yeah well, I just thank God you’re both all right.”

  When he finally placed the towel wrapped baby in her arms, tears of joy filled her eyes. “He’s so beautiful.” She gazed adoringly at the little red, screwed up face. His head was crowned with a thick crop of black hair.

  “He looks like me,” Will said, and the pride and wonderment in his voice made her want to weep.

  “Of course he does.” She cuddled the baby while he tidied up. “Bring me his clothes and I’ll dress him, then you better take him”

  She had laid out the baby clothes when she had prepared everything else. Her strength was sapped by the time he was dressed, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

  “Thank you, Will,” she whispered as she handed the baby over to him. “Thank you for everything.” Her eyes closed.

  Will stood staring down at Mattie. How beautiful she looked, but so frail and fragile. He glanced down at his son, marveling at what a splendid boy they had made together.

  Walking out into the parlor he lay on the couch; holding the baby against his chest, he closed his eyes.

  His thoughts were jumbled. Why hadn’t he told Mattie he loved her? Because he did love her. He had known for weeks that he did. Subconsciously he had thought voicing his love out loud for Mattie, would be disloyal to Anna’s memory. There was a corner of his heart that would always belong to his girls and Anna.

  She wouldn’t begrudge him happiness, such a kind and generous person would be glad he had found love with Mattie. Exhausted, he drifted off to sleep.

  The baby’s crying woke him. His arms were empty. Where was he? Frantically he leapt off the couch and with fear clawing his guts to shreds, glanced around the floor.

  Suddenly, the crying stopped. Once he gathered his wits he realized the sound had come from the bedroom. He charged toward it, skidding to a halt at the foot of the bed.

  Mattie sat up in bed with the baby at her breast, looking so serene and lovely he blurted out the words he hadn’t been able to utter before. “I love you, Mattie.”

  She gave him a sweet smile and her eyes lit up. “I love you, too, Will, but you knew that.”

  “Yes. I was too stubborn and mule-headed to admit I loved you, too. There’s a tiny corner of my heart reserved for Anna and the girls, but the rest of it belongs to you and our son. What are we going to call him?”

  “Your choice.”

  “What was your grandfather’s name?”

  “Horace.”

  Will grimaced. “For a second name, all right?”

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “How about we name him after King Richard the Lion Heart of England,” Will suggested.

  “Yes, Richard is very manly.”

  “Our little man has the heart of a lion.”

  “He did enter the world with a roar,” she said. “Oh, Will, I’m so happy.”

  “So am I. This is the start of our dynasty, Mattie, and hopefully it will continue for a hundred years, and even longer.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three years later.

  In the cabin, which Will had expanded and improved, Mattie sat by the fire feeding their three-month-old daughter, Anna. Richard, a mischievous, dark haired toddler, played with the wooden blocks Will had made for him. He was so like his father, she continually marveled at the fact he had inherited none of her features. Anna, as far as she could tell, was a mixture of both parents.

  “Sonofabitch.” Will waved the paper he had been reading in the air.

  “The children, please. No swearing.”

  “Sorry, Mattie, it slipped out, but read this.”

  Bogus Minister of Religion exposed, the headlines screamed. As she read the article her stomach churned and bile rose up in her throat. “That fiend, Reverend Johnson was an imposter,” she shrieked and the startled baby let out a wail.

  “Sorry, my darling.” Mattie positioned the baby’s rosebud mouth back on the nipple.

  It had always shocked her for a man of God to act with such hatred toward women, now the reason was clear. The article went on to say all marriages celebrated by the preacher were unlawful, and that the couples involved would need to be married again.

  “I wasn’t legally married to McIntyre?”

  No, well not according to this article.” Will grinned. “You know what this means, darlin’?”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe such a thing was possible. How could he get away with it for so long? Where did this leave her and the children? Fear wrapped its ugly tentacles around her heart and squeezed it tightly.

  “This means I can marry you, something I‘ve always wanted to do. Mrs. Will McIntyre, how does that sound?”

  “No, we can’t, Will. If you use your own name and not Wilbur’s, the Americans might find you.” She couldn’t let him risk being hanged even for the sake of their children.

  “They would be looking for William McIntyre. I’ll sign the marriage papers as Will McIntyre, even though I will be Wilbur as far as anyone else is concerned. We’ll be the only ones to know the truth and we won’t be telling anyone.”

  “Do you think it will work?”

  “Why shouldn’t it. If we get married in Castlemaine the authorities won’t ask too many questions, they’ll want to get it all over and done with as quickly and quietly as possible. The preacher made fools out of all of them.”

  “Oh, Will, if only I could be sure you’d be safe, this would be one of the happiest days of my life.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll go into town tomorrow, darlin’, and do it. I’ve always felt guilty about not marrying you. For your sake and that of our children, I want to do it.”

  Mattie gave him a beautiful smile which lit up her face. Even if the authorities did find out who he really was, which was highly improbable, it was worth the risk.

  He was the luckiest man alive. Anna still had a corner of his heart, but she would be glad he had found happiness with his new family.

  He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for what he now had.

&
nbsp; The End

  Books by Margaret Tanner

  Pearl Harbor And More Anthology

  A Rose In No Man’s Land

  Baby Maker

  Reluctant Father

  We Never Said I Love You

  Five Roads From Beltane

  Edwina, Bride of Connecticut

  Cowboy Christmas

  The Sheriff’s Outcast Bride

  The Cowboy And The Quaker

  Savage Possession

  About the Author

  Margaret Tanner is an award winning, bestselling Australian author, who writes Historical Romance and Western Romance. She loves delving into the pages of history as she carries out research for her historical romance novels. No internet site is too boring, no book is too old or tattered for her to trawl through, no museum too dusty. Many of her novels have been inspired by true events, with one being written around the hardships and triumphs of her pioneering ancestors in frontier Australia. She once spent a couple of hours in an old prison cell so she could feel the chilling cold and fear.

  Margaret is married with three grown up sons and two gorgeous little granddaughters.

  Margaret’s Amazon Author Page:

  http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003T5216E

  Margaret’s website:

  http://mjljtanner.wixsite.com/fictionalromance