“Speaking of Kristin, I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said. “What do your parents think of Alvar spending time with her?”
“Alvar’s a fine young man, and Kristen is old enough to have a beau. But she has her heart set on becoming a doctor, and she’ll be leaving for school, probably this coming spring. She says that Alvar supports her ambition, even knowing that when she goes it may be for good. So with that understanding in place, my parents are fine with her seeing Alvar.”
Of course, things would be different if they wanted to marry, Hanna thought. A man could marry beneath his station. A woman, never.
“And what about me?” she dared to ask. “How can I expect your family to treat me?”
“Kristin is delighted to have you, especially since you’re Alvar’s sister. She’ll be your friend from the first day. My dad started his life as a farm boy, so he’ll understand where you came from. And he’s happy about his coming grandchild. You’ll have no trouble winning him over.”
“And your mother?”
“My mother may take some time. But she’s kind and fair, and she’s had her own struggles. Just be patient yourself. She’ll come around.”
Blake put down his wineglass and leaned toward her. His gaze held hers. “I’ll be on your side, too, Hanna. I want my family to love you. And I want us to be friends. You can come to me for anything you want to talk about or to ask for whatever you need.”
She lowered her gaze. “Thank you. You’re a good man, Blake. I knew that the first time I met you, when you rescued me at the dance.” She’d almost mentioned Mason’s name but checked herself. Mason was out of their lives now.
“We’ve both come a long way since then,” he said.
Yes, she thought, and we have a very long way to go.
* * *
They took their time finishing the meal, eating more than talking, perhaps each of them putting off the moment when it would be time to go up to their room.
Blake had already planned what he would do—find an excuse to leave and give her privacy until she’d had time to go to sleep.
“Hanna, I know you’ll want to take advantage of the bathtub before bedtime,” he said as they stepped into the room. “The saloon up the street usually has a good late-night poker game going. I brought some spare cash, and I’ve got a hankering to try my luck. That should give you plenty of private time before I come back. Does that plan suit you?”
“My mother always said gambling was evil, but who am I to judge? Go and have yourself a good, wicked time.”
She had made him smile. A real smile, not the one he’d pasted on his face most of the day. “Don’t wait up for me,” he said. “The game tends to run late. Enjoy the tub.”
He was about to leave when she called him back. He turned. She was standing in the middle of the floor, a helpless expression on her face.
“Oh, no—Blake, please don’t go yet. I need help. Mildred got me into this dress, and the buttons go all the way up the back. I can’t reach to unfasten them.”
“What’s a husband for?” His joke had an edge to it. “Turn around and hold still.”
The fragile silk gown must’ve had at least twenty miniscule, fabric-covered buttons, each one passing through a matching loop. The seamstress who’d made the gown must’ve gone half-blind by the time she finished. Hanna was right. There was no way she could get out of this dress by herself.
He started at the top, his big hands fumbling with the devilish little fastenings. He could hear Hanna breathing as he struggled to ignore the nape of her lovely neck, laid bare by her upswept hairstyle. Her skin was the color of rich cream, lightly golden and as soft as satin. If this had been an ordinary wedding night, he would have kissed his way down her back as he undressed her, then swept her into the bed. As it was, all he could do was fight the temptation to press his lips to her bare skin and lose himself in the taste, feel, and scent of her.
He reached the top of her corset and kept working his way downward. Still slim as a willow, she was warm and desirable—and she was his wife. Blake could feel the pressure of his body responding to her nearness.
He forced himself to think of Mason—having her, loving her, planting his seed in her eager young body. It was something he’d sworn in his mind not to do when he’d made Hanna his bride. But the mental image was helping. By the time he reached the last button, his lust had ebbed—but at a price.
“Can you manage the rest?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.” She turned around, holding the top of the gown against her chest. “If you hadn’t been here, I’d have been trapped in this dress. Now go out and have fun.”
“Enjoy your bath.” He left, taking his key and his warm coat with him.
Two doors past the bank was a saloon known for attracting high-stakes players to its poker tables. It was also known for discreet goings-on with the pretty girls in the upstairs rooms. Blake had been an occasional client in the past but that wasn’t part of his plan now. He wanted to present an honest face to his bride—and to himself—in the morning. Tonight, he was here to play poker.
Standing in the doorway, Blake could see a couple of men he’d played with before, along with a gambler from out of town. The game was just starting. He ordered a beer, asked to join, took a seat, and laid a few bills on the table.
Blake enjoyed gambling for the challenge, the suspense, and the drama. The money mattered less because he never wagered more than he could afford to lose. For him, it was only a game, to be played for fun.
He had played a few hands and was breaking about even when he realized that he’d left his spare cash in his valise at the hotel. Distracted by the task of unbuttoning Hanna’s gown, he’d walked out and forgotten it. If he wanted to stay in the game, he was going to need it.
Excusing himself, he put on his coat, strode back to the hotel, and climbed the stairs. When his knock went unanswered, he opened the door.
The room was empty, the lights turned off except for the bedside lamp. A thin ribbon of light glowed from under the closed bathroom door.
Blake’s valise was in the wardrobe, around the corner from the bathroom door. As he walked toward it, he could hear the sound of happy splashing, then what sounded like a lively children’s song, in a soft, musical voice. It took a moment for him to realize that the words were in Swedish, sung with such simple joy that Blake had to smile. The fragrance of lavender wafted under the door and into the room. He could imagine Hanna’s delight when the bath salts turned into foaming bubbles under the water taps.
If this had been a real wedding night, he might have opened the door, soaped her back, and moved on from there, slicking all the sweet, intimate parts of her, then scooping her up in a towel and carrying her, damp and fragrant, to the waiting bed, where . . .
Damn!
He had married Hanna for the sake of her baby and his family. When he’d promised not to touch her, he’d believed that her youth and her circumstances would make that promise easy to keep. Now, mere hours after the wedding, he was panting after her like a blasted bull elk in rut. If he didn’t get out of here now, he could lose control, bust into that bathroom, and probably scare her half to death.
This time, even thinking about Mason didn’t help. Steeling his resolve, he found his valise in the wardrobe, took out the envelope of bills, stuffed it into his waistcoat, and left the room. With luck, the poker game would last until the wee hours, and he would return too tired to do anything but collapse on the sofa and sleep.