conversation. Had she missed something important? She smiled and nodded as if she hadn’t.
“Wait till you see all the animals we’ll have. Sure, we have a lot to do…repairs, cleaning, planting…mostly repairs before winter. We don’t want to freeze to death.” He laughed while eating one of Aunt May’s raisin cookies.
“No we don’t.” She couldn’t quite get an image of her new home in her mind. His descriptions were vague, to say the least.
The flames dwindled. Walt got the bedroll from under the seat and began preparing their marriage bed. Before spreading the blankets out underneath the shelter of the wagon, he cleared away pebbles and stones.
Cecile took her valise and ventured back to the stream to wash away the prairie dust. Overcome by modesty, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Walt was occupied and not watching. She quickly undressed and lathered as much of her body as possible with a small bar of lye soap. The cool water invigorated her while the harsh aroma replaced the musty smell of a prairie traveler. Thank goodness she had some lavender-scented toilet water with her.
While she performed her toilette, Walt hummed as he went about the task at hand. She imagined what thoughts caused him to be so happy, and goose bumps formed on her wet skin. Was she cold or scared? Regardless, she found herself revitalized by the feeling of cleanliness, and, although apprehensive, his humming brought her a warm, comfortable feeling. She pulled her hairbrush from her bag and drew the bristles through her tresses the usual one hundred nightly strokes.
Strangely, feeling less nervous she returned to the camp clad in the nightdress that was a last minute purchase from the mercantile. Its combination of ribbons and lace conveyed the very image of femininity she wanted to portray to her new husband. She stepped to the fire, just a few feet from where he sat.
His gaze rose to meet her; his eyes widened. Cecile realized the fire shone enough to reveal her nakedness beneath her gown. A flush crept up her neck.
“You look like an angel.” He rose, took her hand, and led her toward the pallet of blankets. “I wish our first night together could be in a clean, comfortable bed, but I suppose that isn’t as important as being together and in love.”
She crawled beneath the wagon. Her fleeting sense of calmness departed and a nervous knot formed in her stomach.
Walt peeled off his clothing and joined her, tugging the blankets up around them. As her anxiety grew, her heart pounded. What, if anything, was she expected to do? She didn’t have a clue, and hoped he’d tell her. Even so far from the flames, her face grew uncomfortably warm.
He took her in his arms and pulled her close against him, covering her face with kisses. He bussed her eyes and nose, and then covered her lips with his in a deep and probing exploration that stirred the embers of her soul. Reaching under her gown, he moved his hands over her body—stroking and caressing every inch of her. Such familiar touching of private places made her stiffen in resistance, but the trail of warmth left by his fingers and the sweet taste of his mouth coaxed her surrender.
The urgency to respond in some manner replaced the tension in Cecile’s body. Her hand drifted to his upper torso to feel the muscles she'd previously admired only through his clothing. Her fingers played with the soft downy fur on his chest, then drifted down to feel the tautness of his stomach. Touching him in such a bold manner excited her.
Her lips melded with his, and when he sucked her tongue between his teeth, an odd sensation developed in an area far removed from her mouth. She clenched her legs together, trying to capture the tingly feeling and hold onto it.
Walt rolled her onto her back, insinuated one of his legs between hers, and moved them apart. He tugged on her nightdress, pulling it over her head so that no barrier stood between them. The feel of his bare skin
Learning to Kill: Stories