A Convenient Wife (25 page)

Win nodded. “Almost. Maybe another couple of weeks.”

“Before Christmas?” Ellie asked. “I figured around the middle of December, if it truly takes nine months, like you said.”

“He oughta know,” James said cheerfully, as he turned the buggy toward the back street where his house sat between Win's office and the home of the lumberyard owner. He pulled the buggy up to the front gate with a flourish. Win jumped to the ground and reached for his wife.

“Here, hang on to my shoulders. You don't want to take a tumble,” he said, waiting until she gripped him firmly. Then, grasping her waist through the heavy outer garment she wore, he lifted her carefully, settling her on her feet.

“You doing all right?” James asked, bending to look down at her.

Ellie nodded, pleased by his concern. “I'm fine as frog hairs,” she said, lifting her skirts as she stepped to the gate and opened it. “Thank you, James. Tell Kate I said hello, will you?”

“I can do that,” he answered agreeably. “It's gonna snow for sure, Doc. Don't get too far from home.”

“I've got a couple of calls to make,” Win told him. “But I'll get Ellie settled first.”

“You go ahead,” she told him. “I'll be fine. I'm going to start supper so it'll be ready when you get home.”

It was more than two hours later when Win came in the front door. Ellie heard him enter his office, and she smiled, imagining him leaving his black leather bag there. He would shrug from his coat and hang it on the hall tree, then make his way into their living quarters.

“Ellie?” His call merged with the opening of the kitchen door, and she turned to greet him. “I met up with some men from town, out looking for one of Kate's students. The rascal ran off after school, and his folks are worried about him.” He
came to stand by the stove and held his hands over the heat that rose from the top.

“You all right?” he asked, leaning to brush a kiss across her cheek. “That's better,” he said, flexing his fingers. “My hands are warm now.” He stepped behind her and his arms encircled her, his fingers spread wide over her belly. “How's the little guy doing?” His breath was warm against the side of her neck and she leaned back against his solid form.

“Fine, I guess,” she said, her thoughts churning as a vision of the child, wandering alone in the falling snow, filled her mind. “Do you think he'll be all right, the little boy they're out looking for?” Ellie asked, turning in Win's embrace to twine her arms around his neck. “All I can think of is how cold I was when I wandered across the open range, trying to get back to you.” She sighed deeply as her forehead rested against his broad chest.

“Ellie? Are you all right? I'm afraid today was hard on you.” he said, and she knew he referred to the hearing earlier.

“Yes,” she said, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “Probably better than I've ever been in my whole life.”

“Well, don't be worrying about the boy, honey. I'm sure he's a healthy youngster, and no doubt warmly dressed.” Win tried to encourage her, but his eyes were dark as though he felt more than a measure of concern.

She turned back to the stove and he leaned over her shoulder. “You got something cooking?”

She laughed. “You know very well I have, Dr. Gray. It's ready for you. Come on, we'll sit down and eat.” She opened the oven and lifted a pan of biscuits from the shelf, their tops golden brown. A kettle of chicken stew sat at the back of the stove, rich with vegetables, its scent rising as she lifted the lid.

“I'm sure glad you're a good cook, sweetheart,” Win told her, rolling his sleeves up and heading for the sink. “You've got me ruined for any other sort of life. My uncle Gregory
told me marrying you was the best decision I've ever made in my life, bar none.”

“Did he?” She slanted him a good-natured look, and ladled stew into his bowl. “I've got milk in the back room, and coffee in the pot.”

“Both, please,” Win said, sighing as he inhaled the rich aroma of his meal. He rose as she approached with a glass of milk in each hand, and waited until she placed them on the table, then pulled her chair out, waiting to seat her.

“You make me feel so genteel,” Ellie told him, lowering herself gingerly into the seat. “I'll bet not another woman in town gets treated the way I do.”

“You're a lady, Ellie.” And as if that were the last word on the subject, Win sat down and reached for her hand. His words of blessing were brief, and they ate with relish.

 

Ellie lay awake late into the night, her mind churning with the day's events. Thoughts of her father saddened her, and yet she sensed that somehow, sometime in the future, they would come to terms. And then she thought of the child who might, even now, be in the cold. Thankful, once again, for her rescue at Win's hands, her own ordeal put aside, she turned her head to see the shadowy bulk of his body beside her.

She turned, rolling against him, her arm resting on his waist, inhaling the scent of him. Fresh air and laundry soap, combined with the natural male aroma teased her nostrils and she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his back.

The baby squirmed, and Ellie bit back a chuckle, aware of the cramped conditions her child was being subjected to. Bad enough that she was all squashed into a little lump inside the confines of her mother's belly, now she was being squeezed between Win's backbone and Ellie's innards. “You poor little tyke,” Ellie whispered. She eased from Win's body, her hands rubbing the taut skin that covered her swollen abdomen. Her
skin itched, yet was sensitive beneath her fingers, and she massaged the reddened marks that marred her flesh.

Win murmured her name, his voice drowsy, and she lifted a hand to his shoulder and then to his hair. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered, but he only sighed and turned his head to kiss her hand.

“Did you wake me on purpose?” he asked, reaching a long arm behind him to pat her bottom.

Her fingers tugged at a lock of his hair and she grumbled, attempting to sound indignant. “Of course not. I was restless and you were handy to lean on.”

“Handy, am I?” he murmured, stretching to his full length and turning in the cocoon of sheets and quilts to face her. He lifted her to rest on the curve of his shoulder and his hand found a spot on her lower back that needed the firm touch of strong fingers. “Having a hard time sleeping?”

“Um. A little. I've been thinking about things.”

Win yawned, and inhaled a deep breath. His head dipped and he nuzzled against her cheek. “You wide-awake?”

She nodded. “The baby's feeling crowded, I think. She keeps trying to stretch out and something pokes my ribs and makes them ache.”

His chuckle was muffled against her temple. “She? You're sure about that?”

“No. But you know I'd like to have a girl. What do you think? You're the doctor.”

“I learned a long time ago not to make predictions I couldn't back up, honey. If you want a girl so much, I'll think good thoughts, but there's no guarantee. We won't know for sure till she makes an appearance.”

Ellie nudged his chin with her fist, then spread her fingers against his cheek. “Ruth doesn't think it'll be much longer. And I think the baby's shifted during the past day or so. It feels lower. I can breathe better, but it's pressing on my innards
and I have to…” She halted, unwilling to discuss her major symptom with him.

“Run to the outhouse?” She felt his chest move, and she knew he'd struggled to keep his laugh silent.

“You're not supposed to be amused at my expense,” she said tartly.

“Sweetheart, your running to the outhouse is natural, just a part of having a baby,” he told her. “And if you've really dropped, it won't be longer than two weeks.” His hand slid around, past her hip to the rise of her belly. “Besides, that's why we have that chamber pot over in the corner. You don't need to be running outside.”

He pushed her to her back and his fingers measured the length and breadth of the burden she carried, his palm massaging the stretch marks she bore. “Might be a bit lower,” he said after a moment. “But I don't think it's too low for me to—” His hand moved beneath the curve to rest against the top of her thigh.

“Ellie? Would you mind if I made love to you? I'll be careful, sweetheart. I won't do anything to hurt the baby.” His fingers inched the fabric of her nightgown up the length of her legs and he drew it higher, until his hand met bare skin and the soft thatch of curls he'd uncovered.

She shivered at his touch, barely suppressing a moan of pleasure. “I've missed you there,” she whispered.

“I've missed being there,” he returned, his words soft and coaxing. “Can I take your gown off?” At her nod, he helped her sit upright, and in moments she was wrapped against him, her skin warmed by the brush of masculine flesh, aware of the urgency of his need as his arousal flexed against her belly. He bent to her breast, his mouth gentle, his teeth and tongue careful as he pressed warm kisses across her swollen flesh.

She felt at once tender, yet aching for the firmer touch he was wont to give, and she wriggled against him. “Please, Win?” His murmur of understanding was immediate, and his
mouth opened fully against the crest that firmed and pebbled at the urging of his tongue.

“We'll be very, very careful,” he murmured, teasing her puckered flesh, kissing the curve of her breast and across the firm swollen skin of her abdomen. “I don't want you to move, Ellie. Just be still and let me pleasure you.”

“I want you, Win.”

“Not nearly as much as I need you right now,” he said fervently. Rolling her again to her back, he knelt between her legs, drawing her knees up so that her thighs lay across his. “Let me know if you feel too much pressure,” he said, his hands trembling as he fit himself to her body.

She was totally exposed to him and in the dim light of the moon, she watched as his hands traced the contours of her body. He lavished caresses on each needy part, and she was hard put to lie quietly as he'd instructed, her flesh coming alive at his touch. He was within her, yet not fully a part of her, and she lifted to capture his length.

“Shh. Don't move, honey. I don't want to come near the baby's head.” And it seemed he could find a measure of satisfaction even in the slow, gentle movements that enticed her. His fingers touched her with tender care and she moaned aloud, her enforced stillness seeming to add substance to the intense pleasure he brought her. Her breathing was shattered by the force of her release and she cried his name aloud.

His hands found the pillow on either side of her head and he leaned over to suckle at her lips, swallowing the words she spoke between shuddering gasps. Barely increasing his rhythm, he groaned against her face, shivering in the grasp of delight as his seed was spent within her body. Rolling carefully from her, he gathered her in his arms and his mouth sought hers again.

“Ellie, Ellie.” He whispered her name between deep, gasping breaths, and his hands held her against himself as though
he could not bear to be separate from her warmth. “You bring me joy,” he said quietly.

“I love you, Win.” It was all she could offer, and as she lifted her face to receive his kiss, he smiled, and it was enough.

 

“I'd be glad to keep the baby,” Ellie told Kate, cutting short Kate's efforts to sound her out.

“He's got a runny nose,” Kate repeated. “And I don't want you to get sick again.” She rocked the small bundle in her arms and bit at her lip. “Maybe I'd better ask Win if it's all right for you to watch him.”

Ellie grinned, throwing up her hands in surrender. “Go on down the hall to his office if you think there's going to be a problem. He's in with a couple of patients this afternoon.”

Kate headed for the kitchen doorway. “It's only going to be for three hours or so. I'll let school out a little early. It looks like more snow, and the children will need to get a head start on it.”

Ellie smiled as Kate strode down the hall to Win's office door. Keeping an eye on Tyler would be a pleasure, she'd already decided. She'd have a chance to rock him and practice changing diapers. And since Kate had just nursed him until he spit back the last mouthful, he was pretty certain to be content until her return.

The meat in the oven was beginning to brown nicely, and Ellie added water from the iron teakettle, then put the cover back in place. Once it was done, she could hold it on the back of the stove until Win was ready to eat his supper. A kettle of green beans simmered, and fresh bread was covered with a clean dish towel on the buffet.

Outside the weather was cold, with a strong wind blowing up from the mountains, but her kitchen was cozy and warm, and satisfaction with her lot in life filled her with contentment. Beside the rocking chair Win had brought home only yesterday, she'd tucked her bag of knitting. And deep within
its assortment of yarn and needles and the unfinished scarf she was working on for James's Christmas gift, was a small tablet she'd found in Win's desk drawer.

She'd filled several pages with sketches of Win, trying from memory to reproduce his face, and somehow not achieving success. Perhaps later on tonight, if he brought his books into the kitchen to work, she might be able to watch him and draw without his notice. The need to capture his image on paper was causing her to waste more sheets in the tablet than she could spare. Tonight, she'd coax him from his office, and then, in the lamplight, she'd be able to watch him as she drew.

The scarf would only take another hour or so to complete, and she could place it in her drawer beside the pale-blue shawl she'd made for Kate. To finally have friends in her life was one of the multiple blessings of being Mrs. Winston Gray. And her heart sang as she stood before the stove, deep in thought.