Page 31

E lizabeth straightened up, arching her back and stretching to relieve the ache she’d acquired from the morning’s weeding.

A truck spluttered and backfired, and she turned, watching it make its way up the road toward the big house.

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she squinted to try and see who was approaching.

When the driver got out and looked around, she recognized Sheriff Fitzwilliam and called to him.

He held up his hand in greeting and began walking toward her.

She met him half-way and wiped her hands on her apron.

He touched his hat.“Good morning, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Hello, Sheriff. What brings you out here so early in the day?”

Fitzwilliam gave her a quick, distracted smile. “Need to see your man, if he’s around.”

It was odd for him to be so direct. He was usually full of pleasantries and little anecdotes.

“I’m sorry. He’s out in the back field today. They were a few hands short, so he went out to help. I don’t expect him before lunch, I mean, dinner.” She still had trouble thinking of the midday meal as dinner.

“Ah, well… Hmm… I need to get back to town.”

“If it’s important, I can go find him.”

“No, no. It’s fine, but I do need to talk to him today. When he comes in, could you have him get a hold of me?”

“Sure. I’ll tell him.”

“I thank ye.” He turned to leave.

“If you stop at the house, Mrs. Reynolds will fix you something cool to drink.”

“I appreciate that, but I do need to get back. Maybe next time.”

“Of course.”Elizabeth watched him walk away and get in the truck while she sipped water from her canteen and considered.

The sun was getting high in the sky, but still, a couple of hours were left until lunch.

Should she go find William?The sheriff had made a special trip, after all.

No, he said it could wait till lunch. I’ll just tell him then.

She corked her canteen and returned to her plants.

When dinner rolled around, though, her husband was nowhere to be seen. The farm hands stopped at the water pump outside, talking and laughing while they washed up.As they crowded into the big eat-in kitchen and seated themselves around the table, Elizabeth inquired after her husband.

“He said he was gonna stop at the barn loft and pitch some hay down for the horses’fore he come in to eat, ma’am.”

Mrs. Reynolds pursed her lips and looked at Elizabeth, who smiled at the older woman’s expression.

“How about I go fetch him or at least take him something?”

Mrs. Reynolds’ eyes lit up in approval, and before Elizabeth could turn around three times, she was out the door with a picnic lunch for two in a basket.

She entered the barn, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkened stalls.

Both sets of doors were open, allowing a brisk breeze to flow through and carry off the worst of the smells and the dank heat.

She set the basket on a milking pail and listened for sounds of her husband working.

The animals were all out in the sunshine, but she could hear footsteps above her and see hay tumbling out of the loft.

She climbed up the ladder and halted at the sight that awaited her.

He was dressed as usual in khaki work trousers and boots, but he was bare to the waist. His back was to her, so he hadn’t seen her yet, giving her time to admire him.

She steadied herself and stood, transfixed at the tanned back and arms, his lean form showing off powerful muscles gliding under the skin as he worked.

Something in her belly clenched as she watched him, moving in rhythm to the whoosh, whoosh of the hay being pushed out of the loft and into the stalls below.

She swallowed audibly. She had seen him without a shirt before, of course, but that was in their bedroom, and even that was somewhat rare.

Now that she could see him in action, she was mesmerized with the beauty of his form.

Her mind was agreeably engaged in remembering the nights in their bed when those arms and hands worked on her instead of some farm implement.

His back glowed with sweat from his labor, and he turned around to push hay from the other side of the opening in the stall’s ceiling.

He saw her then, standing and staring at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes round. His face broke into a broad smile, dimples flashing, his hair in compelling disarray. She swallowed again, trying to look away but unable to tear her eyes from the well-defined chest and shoulders.

“Elizabeth!” he called.“What are you doing up here? I was just thinking of you, and here you are.”

She climbed the rest of the way into the loft and picked her way over to him through the straw.

She couldn’t answer or look at him.

“Oh, sorry”—he seemed to remember his attire or lack of it. He reached for his shirt and put his arms through the sleeves, but before he could button it, she stayed his hand.

“Elizabeth?”

Her hand touched the damp hair on his chest and ran down his rib cage in a meandering path that ended at his abdomen, right above the buckle of his belt.

Her other hand reached up around his neck and she brought him down to her for a kiss.

When they stopped for air, she leaned her forehead against him and tugged on his belt buckle, breathing in the clean sweet smell of alfalfa mingled with his sweat.

“Here?” he said hoarsely. “Now?”

She nodded.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded again.

In a flash, his mouth was on hers, not the gentle delicate kisses, or the confident, smooth ones, but raw hungry ones that mashed her lips and nose, his stubbly face scraping her skin as he devoured her.

He lifted her off her feet and carried her over to a mound of hay in the corner.

She started to pull him down on her, but he stopped and pulled away in a haze and shook his head.

“No…scratchy hay.” He pulled her down on top of him and resumed kissing her while he ran his hands all over her.

Elizabeth was in a frenzy.She had no idea what had taken over her body, what made her straddle him in a most un-ladylike manner, or what made her grind her hips against the burgeoning erection she could feel through his trousers.

She sat up and unbuckled his pants and opened his boxers to free him, while he pushed her dress up around her hips and ripped her panties in an effort to get them off. They hung in two pieces around her waist, but his objective had been achieved. She was open to him now.

He aimed and pulled her down onto him.One, two, three pushes, and he was fully immersed in her.

No knowledge other than instinct guided her movement, and he watched her in fascination, her lips parted and full, completely absorbed in her own gratification.

It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

He had learned quickly the grasping and clenching that signaled the advent of her pleasure, and it drove him toward his own release.

He grasped her hips, trying to slow her down before he lost all control of himself, but she whimpered and still moved in an intoxicating rhythm, and he succumbed.

It was as if he had struck his head on a rock and slid under water.

He could see, but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and then he gasped, and her name burst from his lips.

“Lizzy!”

She fell over on him, her hair landing in his mouth and eyes, and he brushed it away, panting as if he’d run ten miles. He heard mumbling against his neck.

“What?” he asked, breathless.

She lifted her head, her hair hiding her face.“I said, I’m mortified.”

He began to laugh then, a deep well of joy springing up from some place carefully hidden from the rest of the world.“Oh, Lizzy.” That was all he managed to say at first, but he stroked her face and her hair and gathered the damp curls in his hand, holding them off her neck.

“Don’t be embarrassed.I’m glad to see you too.” His voice rumbled, warm and deep.

She got up and averted her eyes as he did up his trousers, barely looking at him as he brushed the hay off his clothes.

“I came to get you for lunch, I mean, dinner—or at least bring you something.It’s—it’s downstairs if you want it.”

He lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly on the mouth, hoping his smiles and caresses would take away her embarrassment.He himself had no regrets whatsoever.

“Thank you.”He kissed her again as he buttoned up his shirt. “I was starving,” he said, grinning at her, a trace of mischief in his eyes.

She gave him another shy smile and turned to descend the ladder.

They walked hand in hand to the maple tree beside the house, stopping at the outside water pump to wash up.

“Oh, I almost forgot. The sheriff came by to see you this morning.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, he didn’t. He just wanted you to come by and see him today, and that he needed to talk to you.”

“Hmm.” He lifted her hand to his lips.

When they reached the tree, he sat down heavily, hands on his knees, then he leaned over and opened the basket. “Let’s see what we have here.”

Elizabeth knelt down beside him and leaned over to pick some straw out of his dark hair.Then she too sat down, peering into the basket.

“Mrs. Reynolds is a gem,” he said, drawing out a chicken leg. “And there she is.”

From the window, the housekeeper waved at him. He held the chicken aloft in salute with a smile as bright as the sun. She laughed and turned away to give the newlyweds their privacy.

“Mrs. Reynolds? Could I see you in my study for a moment?”

“Of course.”

“Shut the door please.”

“Yes? What can I do for you?”

“Has Mrs. Darcy had anything shipped to the house recently?”

“No, I don’t believe so, sir.”

“No clothing?Books? Drugstore items?Toys for the little girls?”

“No, nothing that I’ve seen. Something may have come in, and I didn’t notice.”

“I doubt if anything enters this house without you noticing, ma’am.”

“I suppose not. No, sir, Mrs. Darcy is very frugal about her expenses.” Her voice was warm with approval.

“Quite.”

“Is something the matter, sir?”

“No. That will be all. Thank you.”

She looked at him curiously but then she exited the study, closing the door behind her.

I notice every stitch of clothing you wear, Elizabeth. Observe every book you read. You’ve hardly bought a thing for yourself with the money in your household account, except for seeds and fertilizer.

He looked down at the bank ledger, a feeling of suspicion and dread creeping over him.

So, if you aren’t spending the money on yourself, my wife, what are these withdrawals for?