Chase the Wind (11 page)

Faith pushed the locks back, and he flashed his grin.

The minister directed them to a place in front of him and opened
his prayer book. “Dearly beloved,” he began. Faith and Ian followed
the ceremony, responding when directed. When the minister called
for the ring, Ian produced a carved silver band from his pocket
and slipped it on Faith’s finger.

“It was my mother’s,” he explained. Faith looked at it in wonder,
then lost herself in his deep blue eyes. The next thing she knew,
Ian was kissing her and the minister was calling them man and
wife. Ian shook the minister’s hand and gave the man a coin. The
woman gave Faith a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They waited
while the minister filled out a marriage certificate.

Before they mounted, Ian discreetly placed Storm between them
and the church and gave Faith a kiss that would not have been
appropriate inside the sanctuary, a kiss full of promise for the night to come. When he finally stopped, Faith dreamily leaned into him
for more.

“If I start again, I won’t be able to stop,” he whispered into her
ear.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she replied, turning her face up to his. She was surprised when instead of kissing her again, he mounted Storm and soon had her up behind him. “This is not
what I had in mind,” she said mournfully.

“You’ll get your way soon enough,” he said suggestively. They
waved to the minister and his wife, who had been watching the
exchange from the steps of the church.

“I think they found us just in time,” the wife said to her husband.
The minister looked at her with a pained expression for her facetious reference to sin, and then took her hand. They watched the
Duncans as they rode out of sight.

When they were back on the trail, Faith decided to try out the role of wife. With her arms wrapped securely around Ian’s waist, she
took advantage of the proximity to do some exploring. Each small foray below his waist made him jerk just a little, which sent Storm
dancing around on the road. And each time, he took his wife’s
hand and put it firmly back in place, where it stayed for a minute or two before it was back testing the waters again, going further and further each time. He finally stopped the horse in the middle
of the road.

“Faith,” he said slowly, as he would to a child. “Do you wish to spend your wedding night under yon bush?”

Faith examined the bush he was indicating. “I don’t think so,” she finally answered. “Why?”

“If you don’t stop what you’re doing, I will have to drag you into the woods and have my way with you. I had something else in mind for our first night together,” he patiently explained.

Faith let out a disappointed sigh. “I’ll be good.”

Ian checked to make sure her hands were in their proper place and moved on, leaving one hand over Faith’s as they rode. They soon came into Chillicothe without further incident. Ian stopped to ask a local for some information, and he directed them to a little inn off the main trail. They checked into a small room at the back of the building. Ian took quick inventory of the windows and closest exit.

“You’re afraid they might still be after us, aren’t you?” Faith asked when he was done with his examination. He came to her and took her in his arms.

“I don’t want to take any chances where you are concerned.” He kissed the top of her head. “Yes, he could still be after us. We’re not making good time doubling up on Storm.”

“When do you think we’ll be safe?”

“I don’t know. Maybe when we cross the Mississippi, maybe we’re safe now, I just don’t know.”

“I feel safe now, here in your arms.”

Ian squeezed her tighter. “Can you wait a while longer?” he asked. “I need to take care of some business and find us some supper.”

Faith looked at him incredulously. “I’m beginning to wonder why you married me,” she said, pushing him away and placing her hands on her hips. She looked him up and down and could find nothing lacking in his manly form. “The problem must be in your head,” she finally declared.

Ian grabbed her arms and pulled her to him, hard. She let out a little gasp, and his mouth came down on hers before she could draw in a breath. His tongue pushed its way into her mouth, taking possession of her. His hands moved down her back and caressed her behind, pulling her against his thighs. She felt him pressing against her stomach, felt the heat of him. One hand moved up and ravaged her hair, pulling locks of it out of the neat braid she was wearing. Her knees buckled under her, and he pulled her up with one hand cupped under her buttocks. He turned, and she felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. He pushed her down on it and broke off the kiss. He leaned over her; his arms braced on either side of her, his hair flopped into his eyes. Faith lay on the bed, panting to regain her breath.

“When I come back, you will have my undivided attention. You will have it for so long that you will beg me to stop.” His dark blue eyes were shooting sparks into her pale blue ones. “You will never again doubt why I married you, do you understand?”

Faith nodded her understanding. He flashed his grin at her and kissed her forehead.

“Lock the door behind me,” he cautioned, and he was gone.

Faith made good use of her time while Ian was away. She carefully examined the few articles of clothing he had packed in his saddlebags and made use of the needle she’d brought with her toiletries to do some mending. She changed into the one nightgown she had brought with her. It wasn’t the creation that Miriam had picked out for her wedding night with Randolph; instead it was plain and practical, the first one out of the drawer when she had hastily packed. She was sitting on the bed brushing her hair when she heard his knock on the door.

“Where have you been?” she cried when he entered with a basket of food in one hand and a package wrapped in brown paper in the other.

“I went to buy you a wedding gift.” He pulled her into his lap and handed her the package. Faith carefully held the gift, the weight of it heavy in her hands. “Open it,” he urged. She pulled the paper off and saw a wooden box. The top was carved with an angel reaching out her hands as if waiting to pull someone into her arms. “Remember the story of the angel?” he asked. “I saw this box and knew we had to have it. It’s to put the story of our lives in.” He pulled their marriage certificate out of his coat pocket. “We can start with this.”

“Ian, it’s beautiful. I—” Tears welled up in her eyes. She took the certificate from Ian and placed it in the box. She gently closed the lid and held the gift in her lap, her hands on either side. Ian placed his hands over hers. She leaned her head back to kiss him. As they were kissing, he took the box and set it on the bedside
stand, then pulled her down on the bed beside him. The basket of
food got in their way and it was soon on the floor, followed closely
by his boots.

The next few seconds were spent hastily removing his clothes
and her gown. When they were both undressed, Faith felt suddenly
shy. He was beautiful, she realized, like a warrior angel, or one of the gods of mythology she had read about in school. He was lean
and well muscled, his chest and back smooth, his legs long and
straight, with a reddish tinge of hair starting at his navel and traveling down to his groin. She tentatively reached out her hand and let it trail across his chest. He closed his eyes, and she continued
following the path of hair. He took her hand in his and guided it
to his shaft.

“Ian, show me. I want to
...
I love you . . .” she began. Ian pulled her to him and they lay side by side, his hands exploring her, his lips following his hands until she was quivering beneath
him, breathless, begging, urging him, her hands imitating his, driv
ing him to the same place she was going. He raised himself over
her, preparing her for the initial pain. “Please,” she whispered, tears overflowing the comers of her eyes. He entered her, slowly, letting
her adjust herself to him, and when he felt her ease, he began to
move. Faith clung to him as if she were drowning. She felt herself
whirling in space, a thousand stars spinning around her. Ian was
her lifeline, without him she would go on into the beyond, never
coming to earth again.

“Faith, look at me,” he gasped. She opened her eyes and saw the
deep blue of his above her, his hair hanging down over them. She
held his gaze until her world exploded and she heard his cry above
her.

When her world stopped spinning, she was lying in his arms. “I
love you,” he said softly, his mouth against her forehead.

“Don’t ever stop,” she whispered, her mouth against his neck. She marveled at the essence of him, the taste of his skin on her lips, the smell of sunshine, hay and the faint hint of soap. He rubbed her back and buttocks, making her body arch against his
in pleasure. He chuckled at her antics, and she rubbed against him
again, making use of her hands. She was trailing her fingers across
the hard plane of his stomach when it issued a growl. He placed
his hand over the rumbles.

“If we’re going to keep this up, I will have to have some nourishment,” he said, feigning a weakened condition.

Faith gathered her quilt around her and went searching for the
basket of food. It was hidden beneath their clothes, which had been hurriedly tossed aside. Ian piled the pillows against the headboard
and discreetly pulled the sheet up over his waist. Faith placed the
basket between them on the bed.

“I told the cook downstairs that it was our wedding night, and
she took pity on me,” he explained as they unpacked roasted
chicken, cheese and bread. There was also a jar of lemonade and
some apple tarts wrapped in a cloth to keep them warm.

“You seem to have a way with cooks,” Faith remarked as she
tore off a piece of chicken. “I recall the Masons’ cook was quite
taken with you.” Ian flashed his grin at her.

“I never asked if you could cook, did I?”

“If I can’t, are you going to send me back?” She held up a piece
of chicken and fed it to him.

“If you can’t, you’ll just have to make up for it in other ways,”
he said with a leer.

“Just try to keep on the cook’s good side,” she answered with a
leer of her own.

They soon ate their fill and Faith began to clean up the leftovers, trying to save them for their lunch on the trail. Ian had other ideas, however, and she barely had their supper cleaned up before he had
her in his arms.

He had been right earlier. Sometime before dawn, she begged
him to stop; her body was so sensitive she couldn’t stand any more.
He wrapped her in her quilt and pulled her to him. She was soon asleep and so was he, with a very satisfied smile on his face.

When Faith woke up the next morning, she was totally disori
ented. She was in a strange bed in a strange place, and her body
felt as if it had tumbled along in the flood waters of the Ohio. She was still wrapped in her quilt, but she felt as if something was missing. Her eyes focused on the wooden box sitting on the table next to the bed. “Ian,” she whispered to herself and searched the room for him. He was gone, along with the clothes that had been scattered about. She stretched in the bed, taking careful inventory of all her muscles and marveling that she could move at all, after the passionate attention he had given her. She sat up and pushed
her
hair back from her face.

“Oh, so you’re alive,” Ian said as he came into the room. “You
were sleeping so soundly, I thought you were dead.”

“It’s a miracle I am alive after the abuse I suffered last night,”
Faith retorted dryly.

“Oh, abuse is it? A man shows a wife how much he loves her
and she screams abuse?” Ian’s grin flashed dangerously, causing
Faith to pull the quilt up under her chin. He sat down on the bed and pulled the quilt off her in one quick motion, leaving her ex
posed to his reaching hands. He had her pinned under him before
she knew what had happened and was trailing kisses down her
neck while his hands roamed her body. Faith made use of her own
hands to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants.

“We’re never going to make it to Iowa territory at this pace,” he
said later when they were both lying spent and sated on the bed.

“Ian, please don’t make me ride on the back of your saddle again
today,” Faith groaned. He raised himself up and kissed the tip of
her nose.

“Get dressed. I won’t make you ride on the back of my saddle
again unless you want to.” He pulled her up from the bed and
handed her hairbrush to her. “You’re going to need this too.” He
grinned and tugged on a strand of her hair. Faith used the brush to smack his behind as he turned away, and then began to work on her hair. She soon had it tamed into a braid, and Ian busied himself packing up the leftover cheese, bread and the forgotten apple tarts. Faith dressed and gathered her things into her bag. When she came to the box, she stopped. She searched in her bag
for her mother’s Bible and carefully placed it inside the box, along with their marriage certificate. She closed the lid and ran her fingers over the surface, feeling the carving of the angel. When she looked
up, she saw Ian watching her, a gentle smile on his face. She stood
and went into his arms.