never been more aware of him as a man, of his man's great size and his man's hard strength. She thought of the jack bed waiting in the corner, her marriage bed. She tried to swallow and couldn't; her mouth was as dry as the dusty road outside the window.
"Would you do something for me, girl?"
She nodded dumbly, unable even to breathe. A man hawked and spat in the room next door, and the other man cursed foully, and then there was a thump, like a boot hitting a far wall, and another curse.
"Would you let down your hair for me?"
Her hands trembled once as she lifted them to take off her felt bonnet, plain and black and without any plumes. He took the hat from her and tossed it onto the bed, his gaze not leaving her face. One by one, she pulled the pins out of her hair, and it began to fall in thick hanks over her shoulders. She shook her head, and it settled heavily on her back, falling to her waist.
He ran his hands through it, lifting it and letting it fall, watching it slide through his fingers. "You got hair like molded butter, Clem, and just as soft. All of you is so soft. So soft and fine."
He lowered his head and she thought: He is going to kiss me. He had kissed her before, but she knew this kiss would be different; it would lead to a thing that would change her forever, mark her, like a brand.
"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine." Oh, how she wanted this. She wanted him.
"Clementine."
She tried to make her mouth smile, to stop the shaking in her legs. "Please..." But there were no words within her experience to tell him what she wanted.
He tightened his grip on her hair, as he mistook her trembling and her pleas for resistance. "You're my legal wife, girl. I'm entitled."
"I know, I know." Her eyes fluttered closed. "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth... Let him kiss me..."
One of the men next door began to relieve himself into a tin chamber pot, clattering, splattering, and then he let out a rude noise suitable only for the privy house. Clementine jerked back, and hot color flooded her face as the appalling noises went on and on, echoing like a Boston Bay foghorn.
"Well, hell," Gus said when the room next door at last fell silent. He smiled, a shining, laughing Gus McQueen smile. He lowered his head again, but he only rubbed the tip of her nose with his.
"A man can't marry himself a lady and then make love to her for the first time in a place like this, where you can practically spit through the walls. I want it to be good for you, good and decently done, as it should be between man and wife."
He slid his hands through her hair and lifted it to his mouth as if he would drink of it. Her breath caught, and she trembled.
"I know you're scared, girl, but then, a man doesn't expect a wife who's been gently reared the way you have to be easy about the goings-on that take place in the bedroom. I reckon if I've waited my whole life for you, I can wait awhile longer. I don't suppose it would kill me to court you a little more first."
He was breathing heavily, as she was. Trembling deep inside himself, as she was. It was Clementine's thought that he could court her just as easily in bed as out of it, but she held it back. She was a lady, gently reared and innocent of the goings-on that took place in a bedroom.
"Christ, Jeb," a gruff voice bellowed next door. "You got it smellin' like the back end of a cow in here."
Gus's head fell forward, nearly bumping with hers. He was laughing. She did so love his laugh. "I reckon this here is more parts of the elephant you ever thought or hoped to make the acquaintance of," he said, and his laughter caused his breath to flutter soft and warm against her neck.
"I don't mind," she said. His breath on her neck was making her shiver and tighten up inside, tighter and tighter, so that she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
"Of course you mind. But things'll get better, you'll see. More what you're used to." His
"Would you do something for me, girl?"
She nodded dumbly, unable even to breathe. A man hawked and spat in the room next door, and the other man cursed foully, and then there was a thump, like a boot hitting a far wall, and another curse.
"Would you let down your hair for me?"
Her hands trembled once as she lifted them to take off her felt bonnet, plain and black and without any plumes. He took the hat from her and tossed it onto the bed, his gaze not leaving her face. One by one, she pulled the pins out of her hair, and it began to fall in thick hanks over her shoulders. She shook her head, and it settled heavily on her back, falling to her waist.
He ran his hands through it, lifting it and letting it fall, watching it slide through his fingers. "You got hair like molded butter, Clem, and just as soft. All of you is so soft. So soft and fine."
He lowered his head and she thought: He is going to kiss me. He had kissed her before, but she knew this kiss would be different; it would lead to a thing that would change her forever, mark her, like a brand.
"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine." Oh, how she wanted this. She wanted him.
"Clementine."
She tried to make her mouth smile, to stop the shaking in her legs. "Please..." But there were no words within her experience to tell him what she wanted.
He tightened his grip on her hair, as he mistook her trembling and her pleas for resistance. "You're my legal wife, girl. I'm entitled."
"I know, I know." Her eyes fluttered closed. "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth... Let him kiss me..."
One of the men next door began to relieve himself into a tin chamber pot, clattering, splattering, and then he let out a rude noise suitable only for the privy house. Clementine jerked back, and hot color flooded her face as the appalling noises went on and on, echoing like a Boston Bay foghorn.
"Well, hell," Gus said when the room next door at last fell silent. He smiled, a shining, laughing Gus McQueen smile. He lowered his head again, but he only rubbed the tip of her nose with his.
"A man can't marry himself a lady and then make love to her for the first time in a place like this, where you can practically spit through the walls. I want it to be good for you, good and decently done, as it should be between man and wife."
He slid his hands through her hair and lifted it to his mouth as if he would drink of it. Her breath caught, and she trembled.
"I know you're scared, girl, but then, a man doesn't expect a wife who's been gently reared the way you have to be easy about the goings-on that take place in the bedroom. I reckon if I've waited my whole life for you, I can wait awhile longer. I don't suppose it would kill me to court you a little more first."
He was breathing heavily, as she was. Trembling deep inside himself, as she was. It was Clementine's thought that he could court her just as easily in bed as out of it, but she held it back. She was a lady, gently reared and innocent of the goings-on that took place in a bedroom.
"Christ, Jeb," a gruff voice bellowed next door. "You got it smellin' like the back end of a cow in here."
Gus's head fell forward, nearly bumping with hers. He was laughing. She did so love his laugh. "I reckon this here is more parts of the elephant you ever thought or hoped to make the acquaintance of," he said, and his laughter caused his breath to flutter soft and warm against her neck.
"I don't mind," she said. His breath on her neck was making her shiver and tighten up inside, tighter and tighter, so that she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
"Of course you mind. But things'll get better, you'll see. More what you're used to." His
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