laughed again.
Sara knew she should be changing into the black apron and kapp of a married woman, but Adam pulled her attention back to him. He looked straight at her and she at him. It was important, what had just passed between them. They both knew it, yet neither spoke.
Adam took her hand and slipped it into the broadfall flap of his trousers. Only his union suit stood between her and her husband’s flesh. Shocked, almost as much by her daring touch as by his size and strength, Sara applied pressure to her grasp.
Adam did the same to her, and their moans merged in the long, slow way her body instinctively craved his.
“It’s time to go down,” Sara whispered. For the life of her, she could think of nothing else to say. No wonder married women blushed when the upper room was mentioned. She hoped the flames consuming her would cool before she reached the bottom of the stairs and had to face their wedding guests.
“Tonight,” Adam said as he released her.
Sara nodded but dared to stroke him once more, and he cursed as he snatched her hand away.
“Ready?” Roman called through the door, not bothering to hide his amusement.
Adam stood and smacked the door a good one from the inside, making Roman roar with laughter. “This is the most fun I’ve ever had,” Roman called. “Thanks for asking me to attend you.” They heard his laughter fade as he moved away. “It’s now or never,” he yelled, likely from the top of the enclosed stairs. “You’d better come now.”
Sara’s giggle at his frustration turned Adam’s mind, and he damn near smiled as he untied her white apron while she removed her kapp. Her neatly coifed hair made him itch to muss it, but he shook his head, denying himself, for now. He took her black apron out of her hands and dressed her, her smile at his attention touching him so deep inside, he ached.
Scrapper Sara, filled with enough passion to fight her community, bring a squalling infant into the world, or do battle with a madman. Smiling Sara, with the kind of passion that could make a man her slave, the kind that would get him hard every time he looked at her, that would have her on her back and ... ripe with chil—
Like a blow, the realization struck.
“Tonight,” Sara whispered, taking his hand. “Ready?”
Warmth deserted Adam, the blood left his limbs, chilling him to his marrow, as together, they stepped from the upper room.
Their wedding celebration went by in a haze as he and Sara sat at the Eck , the wedding table. There, in the corner of the main room, the bride and groom and their attendants always sat before those who’d come to celebrate with them.
As usual, smiling made Adam uncomfortable, but he did as well as he could, because it was expected. Besides, it involved only his lips; not his heart. That, in fact, sat encased in ice. Adam shook his head at fate. A rare man had a wife who seemed to want her husband’s touch, rather than bear it as a chore. Sara was a wife who might make her husband smile, without feeling sick about it. But such was not to be.
He’d best face facts. He had a new wife he ... cared about ... in a different way than he’d cared for his first. With Sara, his ... fondness was almost of the spirit, if that were possible, and different from his need to protect his girls, though that was deep and fierce too.
He did not think he had ever cared for anyone in quite the same way he cared for Sara. Oh he had cared for Abby as a husband should. And he cared for his girls in a life-giving way—his sister Emma, too, when she was small. It was fitting, he supposed, that he should deny his body for Sara’s sake, in the way he turned from his girls for their sake, and in the way he had taken his father’s ‘punishment’ in Emma’s place. But Sara….
He would not put her through the danger of childbirth. He would never cause her harm. What had happened in the upper room had happened for the best. A warning. If they had come together for
Sara knew she should be changing into the black apron and kapp of a married woman, but Adam pulled her attention back to him. He looked straight at her and she at him. It was important, what had just passed between them. They both knew it, yet neither spoke.
Adam took her hand and slipped it into the broadfall flap of his trousers. Only his union suit stood between her and her husband’s flesh. Shocked, almost as much by her daring touch as by his size and strength, Sara applied pressure to her grasp.
Adam did the same to her, and their moans merged in the long, slow way her body instinctively craved his.
“It’s time to go down,” Sara whispered. For the life of her, she could think of nothing else to say. No wonder married women blushed when the upper room was mentioned. She hoped the flames consuming her would cool before she reached the bottom of the stairs and had to face their wedding guests.
“Tonight,” Adam said as he released her.
Sara nodded but dared to stroke him once more, and he cursed as he snatched her hand away.
“Ready?” Roman called through the door, not bothering to hide his amusement.
Adam stood and smacked the door a good one from the inside, making Roman roar with laughter. “This is the most fun I’ve ever had,” Roman called. “Thanks for asking me to attend you.” They heard his laughter fade as he moved away. “It’s now or never,” he yelled, likely from the top of the enclosed stairs. “You’d better come now.”
Sara’s giggle at his frustration turned Adam’s mind, and he damn near smiled as he untied her white apron while she removed her kapp. Her neatly coifed hair made him itch to muss it, but he shook his head, denying himself, for now. He took her black apron out of her hands and dressed her, her smile at his attention touching him so deep inside, he ached.
Scrapper Sara, filled with enough passion to fight her community, bring a squalling infant into the world, or do battle with a madman. Smiling Sara, with the kind of passion that could make a man her slave, the kind that would get him hard every time he looked at her, that would have her on her back and ... ripe with chil—
Like a blow, the realization struck.
“Tonight,” Sara whispered, taking his hand. “Ready?”
Warmth deserted Adam, the blood left his limbs, chilling him to his marrow, as together, they stepped from the upper room.
Their wedding celebration went by in a haze as he and Sara sat at the Eck , the wedding table. There, in the corner of the main room, the bride and groom and their attendants always sat before those who’d come to celebrate with them.
As usual, smiling made Adam uncomfortable, but he did as well as he could, because it was expected. Besides, it involved only his lips; not his heart. That, in fact, sat encased in ice. Adam shook his head at fate. A rare man had a wife who seemed to want her husband’s touch, rather than bear it as a chore. Sara was a wife who might make her husband smile, without feeling sick about it. But such was not to be.
He’d best face facts. He had a new wife he ... cared about ... in a different way than he’d cared for his first. With Sara, his ... fondness was almost of the spirit, if that were possible, and different from his need to protect his girls, though that was deep and fierce too.
He did not think he had ever cared for anyone in quite the same way he cared for Sara. Oh he had cared for Abby as a husband should. And he cared for his girls in a life-giving way—his sister Emma, too, when she was small. It was fitting, he supposed, that he should deny his body for Sara’s sake, in the way he turned from his girls for their sake, and in the way he had taken his father’s ‘punishment’ in Emma’s place. But Sara….
He would not put her through the danger of childbirth. He would never cause her harm. What had happened in the upper room had happened for the best. A warning. If they had come together for
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