Eirica nodded. She held her breath as James undid the buttons one by one, then pulled the bodice away and slid it down her shoulders. Next he untied her shift, the only undergarment she owned. She closed her eyes.

“Eirica, look at me. Trust me. Don’t hide from me.”

The bitter bite of bile rose to the back of Eirica’s throat. She trusted James, loved him, but she longed to be perfect for him. He deserved that. But, she thought to herself, he also deserved someone who loved him, and she did. How she loved this sensitive man. And for the first time, she realized she deserved the love he offered so freely. The tenderness in his voice made her meet his shadowed gaze.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “That’s it. Now breathe.”

Holding her gaze, he slid the shift from her shoulders, baring them, then the generous swell of her heavy breasts. His fingers swept over her collarbone and upper chest. She knew when he felt each scar, for his fingers trembled slightly. He edged beneath the shift, pushing it down inch by inch. And when he felt the raised, rough mark of her burn, he paused and did the unexpected. He leaned down and kissed her blemished skin, starting with the small round scar just below her throat. He lowered her to the ground and kissed each and every scar he encountered.

And as he revealed her breasts, James gave them the same care, the same soft, tender kisses as a mother might use to kiss away the pain of a hurt child. Finally, he returned to her mouth. “Don’t ever be ashamed of your body.”

Before she could accept or protest, his head slid back down to her breast. This time, his mouth closed over the swollen nipple. His tongue circled and laved, his lips suckled, not to ease past pain but to give new pleasure—and the promise of more to come.

One hand held the flesh to his mouth while his other hand kneaded her other straining breast. Eirica bit her lip to keep from crying out with the sheer joy of his touch, but when his thumb and forefinger rolled her nipple, a moan slipped from her lips.

James covered her mouth with his, swallowing her soft cries of pleasure. The air brushing against her wet breast intensified the feelings surging through her. She shifted her legs, trying to ease the growing ache.

“I want you, sweetheart. I want all of you,” he breathed into her mouth.

Eirica slid her palms over his chest, greedy for the feel of him. He slid down beside her, half leaning over her. Soft, springy curls cushioned her palms and hid his male nipples. She found them. Each forefinger rubbed a hard bead so small, but oh so enticing. His low moan made her smile. “I want you, too, James.”

He gasped for air when her fingers slid down his taut belly. “I don’t want to rush you.”

“Maybe I want to be rushed.” She tried to capture his lips but he held back, his look a mixture of amusement and pain and intense desire.

“Not a chance,” he murmured, “I’ve waited a long time for this.” He ran his palm over the rise of her pregnancy. “I’ll stop anytime you tell me to.”

When his hand shifted to her thigh and down to her knee, her insides fluttered with the need to have James make love to her. She lifted one knee. “Don’t stop, James.”

Her plea ended on a gasp when his lips reclaimed hers and his palm slid up her leg then back down: thigh to knee, around the back, finding a sensitive spot that made her sigh. Then down to the curve of her buttock. Over and over he caressed her, gave her time to adjust to his touch. So lost was she, she never gave thought to her state of undress or the fact that they were making love out in the open.

Then his hand changed course, shifting to her inner thigh. Desire shot from his hand to her center with such a jolt she’d have cried out had his mouth not been on hers, leaving her too breathless to do much more than gasp. Of their own accord, her raised knees fell to the side. From one inner thigh to the other, he traced her softness, brushing against her center with just enough of a touch as to make her jerk with need. Her hips moved, circled, seeking his touch, but he stayed just out of her reach.

“James—”

“Shh, slow. I’m going to give you pleasure tonight.”

“If you don’t kill me first,” she groaned.

“Rest assured, I’ll be right behind you, sweetheart,” he said, bending back down to swallow her breathy cries. Finally, he slid his hand beneath her skirts and covered the part of her that ached most for his touch. Instantly, her hips lifted, pressing her mound hard against his palm. Thank God she didn’t have drawers to worry about. She didn’t think she could have waited a moment longer for his intimate touch.

James held his hand still, allowing her to respond to the soft pressure of his touch. Her hips rose, they circled, they jerked until it wasn’t enough. Her hands fluttered to her side, her mouth tore free from his and her head moved restlessly side to side.

“James,” she whimpered, feeling herself climbing toward an unfamiliar peak.

“Soon. Soon, just feel.” He lifted his hand, but before she could voice her protest, his fingers returned to caress the swollen heat of her. He stroked, rubbed and played his fingers over her, stroking from her a response as sure as he coaxed a melody from the strings of his guitar. He matched the frenzy of her rotating hips, then he deepened the pressure, sped up those hip-lifting circles until she felt as though she’d scream. Each breath became a low gasp as she panted and climbed, higher than she’d ever imagined. Pleasure turned to pain, but not the kind that hurt or frightened. This was different. She sensed it led somewhere and she desperately wanted to go there, had to go there. She wanted whatever was just beyond her reach. She wanted it all.

Then, without warning, her hips lifted high, her legs stiffened, then her body flew apart in a burst of color and incredible sensation. She soared high, sure that time had come to a standstill in a place where there was only beauty and wondrous music. How long she hovered in that marvelous state, she couldn’t have said. Then it faded, and she floated back to reality slowly, becoming aware of her surroundings, of James, his lips pressed to hers as he’d muffled her cries. “That was—incredible.”

She felt his smile against her cheek. “There’s more. But we won’t go all the way. I don’t want to hurt your babe.”

She reached up to stroke his cheek, then turned onto her side to face him. Her knee slid between his legs, resting against the hard bulge of his erection. She felt the same pressure there, his squeezing, his need. She didn’t want to bring Birk into this, it was just too wonderful, too beautiful; she had to relieve James of his worry.

“You won’t hurt the babe.” She hesitated. “B—he never paid my condition any mind.” She sensed his fear, his struggle with his own desire. “Trust me, James. You won’t hurt me or the babe.” She moved her knee against him. He jerked in response. The idea that she could cause him the same pleasure, the same all-consuming need, thrilled her. Reaching downward, she stroked the hard ridge beneath his woolen trousers.

He shuddered and lowered his forehead to hers. “Are you sure?” His voice was hoarse with need.

“I’m sure.” To her delight, his hands moved to stroke her anew, this time sliding inside her and out and around her sensitive, swollen bud. As he touched and roused her, she did the same, touching him through the fabric of his trousers. Her tentative touch grew firm when she felt him respond. It pleased her beyond measure to hear his own breathless gasps and moans when she stroked the hard ridge from root to the soft tip. Soon, they were both gasping. Freeing himself, James turned her gently onto her other side and curved his body up against hers.

Eirica couldn’t help holding her breath against the expected pain. No matter how much it hurt, she’d give this to James. But to her surprise and delight, when he entered her moist sheath from behind, there was no pain, only a smooth entry that left her trembling with need.

“God, you feel so good around me.”

Eirica tipped her head back, rubbing her cheek against his. “You feel so good inside me.” She should be embarrassed to be talking during this most intimate act between a man and woman, but she wasn’t. His whispered words excited her, drove her closer again to the brink.

With each careful thrust, he stoked her desire to the breaking point. Hovering on the edge, she whimpered. James’s ragged breath fanned her ear. “Now, sweetheart, now. With me.”

He gave one final thrust that touched off her own release. “James,” she sobbed. And with that, she let go to soar with him to that special place he’d shown her.

A short while later, James sat and adjusted his clothes, leaving his shirt open. Then he helped Eirica rise and buttoned her bodice. Gathering her close, he drew a blanket around his shoulders to ward off the night chill and pulled it tighter around him to engulf the woman he loved. He crossed his arms below her breasts, holding the woolen blanket in place.

She leaned back, her knees drawn up. Neither spoke, each content to watch the silvery sheet of river as it flowed past. The clouds above alternated between thick and thin, releasing narrow beams of light to tease the land before enclosing it once more in darkness.

He shut his eyes, feeling incredibly happy, so full of joy he didn’t know if he wanted to shout it to the sleeping world or just weep with wonder. The thought of a man weeping tears made him grimace. Unlike his brothers who vented with outrage and fine shows of tempers, he’d always held his emotions deep within himself. He had a sensitive soul, his mother had often said, before he’d learned to hide that weakness from the outside world. But right now, he didn’t care who saw or who knew. Eirica trusted him.

She loved him.

I love you. Could any three words be finer? Not to him. Could he be happier? Nope. He sighed with contentment.

“James?”

Eirica’s hands rested on top of his. Feeling the coolness, he covered them with his own. “Yes, sweetheart.”

The endearment made her sigh. “I do love it when you call me that.”

He smiled, his lips against her hair. “Then I’ll have to do so often.”

“I’d like that.”

She hesitated. He felt it in her body, in the subtle dipping of her head. “What is it, sweetheart? You don’t have any regrets, do you?”

Her head snapped up, nearly catching his chin. “Oh no.” She shifted around to look at him. Then, feeling brave, she turned and encircled his neck with her arms. “No regrets. It was beautiful. I wish—”

“What do you wish?”

Her breasts rose with the deep breath she took. “I wish I’d met you a long time ago. Except you’d have been too busy raising your brothers and sister.”

“And you wouldn’t have the three wonderful children you have right now.”

“True. I love my children. They were the one good thing in my life, my reason for living. Now I have you, too.”

“Me and junior here, who should be asleep.” James ran his hand over the bulge of her pregnancy, marveling at the feel of her unborn babe. When Eirica struggled to sit straight, he helped her. To his surprise, she didn’t stand or move away but straddled his legs so she could face him.

“James, you said—” another deep breath. “You said to let you know later but I want to tell you now—I’ll marry you.” The words rushed out.

His lungs collapsed. They must have since he couldn’t breathe. Once again, the clouds parted and all James could do was stare at Eirica. Had he ever seen a woman more beautiful? The shape of her eyes, so wide and trusting, framed by golden lashes and finely arched brows. His gaze drifted down to her nose: small, straight, with a sprinkling of freckles across the narrow bridge and scattered over her cheeks. He ran a finger along her jaw, lingered at her firm and stubborn chin, then reached up to caress skin that felt soft as the wool of a newborn lamb. He could sit there and gaze at her beauty forever.

And he had forever. The thought that she was his, that she’d given herself to him, loved him and now agreed to marry him seemed too much to take in. He feared he’d wake up, find out it had all been a dream.

“James? Do you still want to marry me?”

James laughed with sheer joy. She’d said yes! He wrapped his arms around her, needing to be sure. “Absolutely, sweetheart, but are you sure you don’t need more time?” He squeezed his eyes shut in case she agreed.

Eirica pulled back to look at him. Her fingers feathered over his closed lids, then down his jaw. “No. I know what I feel. You told me to trust myself. Well, I do. But more importantly, I trust you.”

He opened his eyes, feeling moisture gather. Her trust was a precious gift, one he’d treasure for life. “I love you, Eirica. I love you so much.”

She sighed. “Don’t make any mistake, I still have worries and concerns. Part of me is fighting this, the part that fears being helpless again. I wanted my own land so I’d always have a place to call home. When Birk drowned, I vowed to never fall under a man’s dominance again.

“But with you, I know I can find a middle ground. I want to share my life and my children with you. I want what Anne and Lars have, what Sofia had with her husband. Coralie and Jordan worked out their differences, and Jessie and Wolf’s love for each other is so strong, anyone can feel it. I want what they have and with you, I’m willing to take a risk to get it.”

James played with a long strand of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder. Using his fingers, he combed her hair, staring at the silky softness he’d pulled over each shoulder. Bringing a handful of her hair to his face, he kissed the satiny strands, then leaned forward to kiss her. “I won’t let you down. Be my partner, be my friend, be my wife.”

“Yes. Oh, yes.” Eirica bent down to kiss him soundly on the lips.

She ended the kiss way too soon in his opinion. He was hard, throbbing with renewed need, but feared making love to her a second time would be too much for her. He tried to steady his breathing.

“James?” Eirica wore an impish grin.

“Yeah?”

“Just remember if you get too bossy, I’m going to poke you and shout at you.”

He chuckled, then winced when he thought about poking. Damn, he ached. He thought he’d hid his growing desire, but then she reached down and stroked him through his trousers.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’d better not do that.”

“I want to. I want you to love me again.”

His eyes widened with surprise and then hooded beneath the need coursing through him. “Are you sure? It won’t be too much?”

“Never. I don’t think I can ever have too much of loving you.”

James freed himself, then lifted her skirts and urged her over him. “Then you take charge this time. Take me as deep as what’s comfortable so I don’t hurt you.”

Delight shone on her face as she lowered herself over him and rode, taking him to heights he’d never imagined.

When Gunner arrived the next morning to take charge of her wagon, Eirica couldn’t help feeling disappointed that James hadn’t come. But she knew he had to oversee the cattle. He’d stayed with her until nearly dawn, talking, kissing and just holding her while she dozed in his arms. She fought back a yawn.

Today was going to be a long day, but last night was worth some weariness. She smiled to herself. James had been incredible. The loving they’d shared, the heights they’d traveled, had been beyond her wildest imagination and she couldn’t wait to make love to him again.

Eirica fell into step with the other chatting women but couldn’t keep focused on their conversation. Dreams of James, of their love and the promise of a future filled with love and laughter, played over and over in her mind. When she heard a horse approaching from behind, she turned, her look hopeful, but it wasn’t James, only Wolf riding his monstrous black beast. Her shoulders sagged.

Yep, it was going to be a long day.

Alison called out to the wagon master and asked if she could ride with him. He stopped and looked to Eirica for permission, which she gave. Alison was becoming as horse-crazy as Kerstin, Anne’s daughter.

Wolf settled Alison in front of them, then glanced down at the women. He winked at Eirica. “By the way, congratulations, Eirica. Welcome to the family.”

With a look of pure devilment directed at his wife who had stopped and was looking from Wolf to Eirica, he rode away, Alison clutched firmly in front of him.

Jessie watched him ride off with a frown, then rounded on Eirica who resumed walking, trying to control her laughter at the very pregnant silence behind her. It didn’t take long before Jessie, Coralie, Anne and Sofia caught up and crowded around her. Their questions came fast and furious.

“James did it, didn’t he? He finally proposed?” Jessie walked backward in front of Eirica, her green eyes alight with excitement.

Deciding to play it out, Eirica said, “Actually, he stated his intentions a long time ago—right after we left Independence Rock.”

“And you two didn’t say anything?” This from Coralie.

“I told him no.” Rounded eyes and open mouths greeted that news.

Having fun, Eirica brushed her palms down her apron. She waited a heartbeat. “Last night, I told him yes.” Happy shouts mingled with congratulations and set the tone for the rest of the day.

That night, three women huddled in a small circle in Coralie’s tent, sewing frantically by the light of a lard-burning lantern. Sofia, Catarina and Rook entered, with Catarina holding high another lantern to brighten the cramped area.

Rook set a small trunk down on the floor, then eased himself down, perfectly at ease among the women. Sofia opened the trunk and pulled out a pile of tiny new baby things, each made by the assembled women. Some were sewn, some knitted. The bounty included a couple of small blankets and quilts.

Coralie tied a knot and held up a small gown. “There, finished.” She opened a leather pouch she’d acquired in trade with a group of Indians they’d encountered along the Platte River. From inside, she pulled out two more simple gowns, each a little bigger. “Here’s three more to put in the trunk.” She set them on top of the growing pile.

“What about you, Jessie?” Anne asked.

Jessie grinned broadly and placed her contribution into the middle. No one made mention of the lopsided hems or that one sleeve was obviously shorter than the other on one gown.

Anne, Catarina and Sofia each drew their contributions from their sewing baskets and added them to the growing pile.

“Oh, my,” Coralie breathed, fingering the exquisite lace Anne had fashioned and stitched along the yoke of one small sacque. Sofia’s and Catarina’s also had lace and ribbons. “I’ll never be able to do this.”

Sofia laughed. “You will learn, both of you. All it takes is practice.”

Both Jessie and Coralie groaned, but Coralie was determined to be able to sew such fine garments. But there was one skill she had—one her grandmother in Boston had insisted she learn—embroidery, and she was very accomplished in her stitches.

Biting her lower lip, she glanced toward a corner where one more package lay hidden. She wanted to surprise everyone and planned to give it to Eirica when they presented the rest of the infant clothes and blankets. It never crossed her mind that Eirica’s baby would be anything other than a girl.

After carefully packing the bounty back into the trunk, the women got out their quilt squares. Now there was a wedding quilt to sew, along with finishing the baby quilts each had started.

Three days later, Wolf’s group reached Fort Bridger, originally built by Jim Bridger. The fort was a heavenly sight to the weary travelers. The surroundings held abundant clear sweet water and good grass for the livestock. There was also a beautiful view of the mountains to the south and the high, wide blue skies.

Two days of rest were declared. Wagons needed repair and oxen with lost or worn shoes could be taken to the blacksmith for shoeing. The beasts were unable to stand on three legs, which made shoeing them on the trail nearly impossible. Letters hastily written were mailed and those with money restocked low provisions. The two days also afforded a much-needed break from the monotony of travel.

Here, Mormon emigrants, many with handcarts instead of wagons, split off to head toward the Great Salt Lake or California. Those bound for Oregon headed northwest and rejoined those who’d taken the sublet cut-off. Talk among men concentrated on trail conditions and choices in cut-offs. Women gathered to talk, exchange trail recipes and trade excesses of one food for something of which they’d run out.

Six days after leaving the fort, the emigrants arrived at the abandoned Smith’s Trading Post. The structure had originally been established by Peg Leg Smith in 1848, on the east bank of the Bear River.

The very idea of amputating one’s own leg left Eirica shivering. She’d heard the tale of how the man had done just that, then dressed it and fitted a wooden leg and socket in the stirrup of his saddle so he could ride.

“How could someone do that, cut off his own leg?” Eirica handed James an armload of bedding to put into the tent.

“Survival. People do what they must.” Taking the blankets and quilts from her, James ducked inside and laid them down, then came back out.

Above them, the blue of the sky faded. Eirica scanned the area. Her children sat nearby petting the pregnant Sadie, who lay on her side, panting. Eirica felt for her. The dog was huge. Lara reached out to touch the dog’s side, then giggled when she felt one of the unborn pups move. The white wolf lay next to his mate, good-naturedly tolerating Eirica’s children, even Ian, who tended to be a bit rough.

An odd shiver ran up her spine and her gaze shifted to her surroundings. Several times over the last few days she’d felt as though she were being watched, but had never found anyone looking her way.

Mistaking her shiver for cold, James drew her against him. “How about if I cook dinner and watch the children while you rest.”

Eirica sighed with longing, tempted to take him up on his suggestion. “What about the cattle?”

“I’m off tonight.” He glanced down at her, his expression filled with love and concern.

“You’re worrying.”

“Yeah, I don’t want you to be alone in case the babe comes.”

“James, look around.” She indicated the people and wagons crowded on each side of them. “I’m hardly alone.”

He looked at her sheepishly. “Yeah, but I won’t be here.”

A warm glow settled in her heart. It felt heavenly to know he cared. “I am tired.” An image of him joining her made her sigh. “Too bad you can’t join me.”

James put his hand to his heart in mock dismay. “Woman, you’ll be the death of me. Give a guy a rest.”

Eirica swatted him, knowing he’d purposely restrained himself the last two nights because he was worried about sending her into labor. And in truth, she didn’t have much energy. Still, it was nice to just sit or lie together. If he weren’t on guard duty, he rolled his bedding beneath her wagon, giving her a sense of security in knowing she only had to call out if she needed him. And usually, he lulled her to sleep with either his mouth organ or guitar.

James led her to the tent. Before she entered, he kissed her, long, deep and slow. “Dream of me.” With a wink, he returned to the fire to check on the bread baking in the Dutch oven. He faced the children so he could keep an eye on them.

Again, that feeling of being watched overcame her. She made another sweep of the area but as before, nothing struck her as worrisome. I must be tired. Lying down, she closed her eyes. In minutes, she was asleep.

From his vantage point between the two large wagon parties, Birk watched James cook supper, then play with his children. He ran his hand up and down the smooth barrel of the shotgun. Hatred and rage filled him, urging him to get rid of the man who dared to touch his wife. But there were just too many people around. Soon. Soon, he’d have his revenge.

His glare fell to his three brats. He hated kids: hated the mess, the noise and most of all, he resented their intrusion in his life and the fact that with them around, he wasn’t the focus of his wife’s attention. No, he had no use for them brats.

He absently fingered the chain around his neck and narrowed his gaze, a plan forming. Well, now, maybe he shouldn’t be so hasty. He might have a use for them after all. Thinking and planning, he headed back to his camp where Zeb waited.