Trace led her to the innkeeper. “We just got hitched, sir. I paid for two rooms, but I . . . uh, that is, we need only one now.” He shivered again, and cold weather had nothing to do with it this time.
Mr. Bolling gave them a generous smile. “Not to worry. If I’d turned renters away I might feel different—but probably not. I’m happy to refund your money.” He plucked a key off a row of nails behind him. “It’s just a few minutes until Ma rings the supper bell. I’ll show you to your room, then get the baggage you left and bring them to you. You’ve got a few minutes to take off your coats and wash up.” He pointed to the hallway that ran alongside the stairway. “Dining room is down thataway. We’ve got a good crowd tonight, so Ma made plenty.”
Keeping up a running chatter about where things were and such, he led them up the stairs and down a short hallway to a corner room. He unlocked the door and then handed them the key, saying he’d be back shortly.
Trace peeked into the room as the man walked away, then closed the door behind them. “It’s a nice-sized room,” he said to his new bride. “That fella’s being mighty kind to us.”
Trace shed his gloves, coat, and hat and hung them on a row of pegs near the door. Deb did the same. There was a basin and a pitcher of water in the room, and they took the time to wash away a long day’s travel.
The innkeeper returned with their few bags just as they’d finished cleaning up. “It’s a night for love. Come on down and eat, and if you don’t stay long, Ma and I’ll not be surprised.” He walked out chuckling.
Trace closed the door and turned to pull Deb into his arms. “I just want a few minutes to let it sink in that you’re really my wife.” He sighed, leaned down, and rested his forehead against hers.
He heard the faintest breath of a laugh from her. “It is surprising, isn’t it?” Deb wrapped her arms around his waist. They stood there together, quietly, at peace with the world.
Then Trace lifted his head just far enough to see her eyes. He moved forward and kissed her. His arms tightened while hers rose to encircle his neck.
He pulled her closer. Tilted his head and deepened the kiss. One of her hands slid from around his neck and rested, palm open, on his cheek. Her thumb brushed his lips.
The dinner bell rang.
Groaning quietly, Trace broke off the kiss. “All day long I haven’t given you a minute to do more than chew jerky. I don’t want to share a moment’s time with anyone else, but I suppose we’d better go eat.”
Grinning, Deb nodded. “I’d forgotten about food, but you’re right.”
The bell rang again, almost as if with the one ringing it knew they’d need a good nudge.
Pulling away and taking her hand, Trace led Deb out and down the stairs. Though the food smelled delicious, nothing called to him like holding his new wife.
Trace had a sudden thought about the night to come that had never entered his head when she’d been in the room with him. He missed a stair and had to grab the hand railing to keep from tumbling all the way down to the first floor. It was a relief he hadn’t managed to drag her down the stairs with him, head over heels.
Deb caught hold of him. “Are you all right? What made you trip like that?”
He wasn’t all right, yet he didn’t know how to bring it up—what it was he’d been thinking about when he stumbled just now. But then they were downstairs and in the dining room, other folks around them. Some had already gone in to take their seats at the table.
“I’ll tell you later,” Trace said.
He probably had to confess, but how could he? He had no idea what exactly went on between a husband and wife on their wedding night. Maybe no one knew such things and had to discover them on their own. And Trace feared his being alone so much had stunted a big part of his education.
Of course, he lived on a cattle ranch so he had some idea. But without the hooves and such, he was afraid it was different for men and women.
He didn’t see how she’d know, either.
If they’d just stayed in the room, gone on the way they’d been going, he’d’ve never thought of it and they’d’ve been all right . . . at least he hoped so.
Now, instead of being eager for the night to go on, he was terrified. He decided to eat real slow.
Deb picked at her food. She wanted to ask for seconds, just to slow things down, but her stomach was in knots and her throat bone-dry. She could barely swallow the food she had.
Her ma had died before there’d been time for a talk about . . . married things. And anyway, Ma hadn’t cared much for Pa and probably quietly prayed neither of her girls would ever get saddled with a husband.
That was just a suspicion Deb had. No such words had been spoken.
She practiced ways of telling her husband she’d like more time.
We really don’t know each other well, Trace.
I’d like more privacy before married . . . events pass between us. Privacy like they’d get while sharing Trace’s cabin with Gwen and two small children?
Could we just check to see if the innkeeper still has two rooms available?
Despite her best efforts to separate her meal of chicken and dumplings into bites of one drop per spoonful, Deb’s plate was eventually empty. She’d even lingered over a piece of pie. All the other guests had left the dining room, and the innkeeper’s wife had glanced in on them rather nervously twice now,
