Page 47 of The Horseman of Sleepy Hollow
"The rain is slackening, Papa. We will be fine." I planted a kiss on his cheek. "Where is Mother?"
"In the parlor, I think."
My mother was sitting alone in a chair, clutching a soggy handkerchief. Her red-lined eyes had gone glassy from crying, and her mouth hung open a little. She stared hopelessly at the streaks and circles of mud on the floor.
"Anika would have hated this day." Her voice shook as she spoke. "She always wanted—you and Brom—"
"I know, Mother."
"I see it now—why Brom is not good for you. He drinks too much. And he is not kind, like your Eamon is."
I drew another chair close to her and sat down. "Will you be all right?"
"Oh, yes. It's these floors—all the mud. Your grandmother would roll over in her grave if she could see the state of this house. She always kept a neat household, you know. Such a fine Dutch lady, your grandmother. In these wild colonies there is only so much I can do, to keep things proper."
I hid a smile because she called our quiet little valley "wild colonies"—but I knew her distress was not really about the floors at all.
"We will return next week," I told her. "You will lose no one else, I promise. In fact, you have gained a son."
"Yes." Her face brightened. "And some little ones will arrive soon, I'll wager. Little grandchildren to run about the halls—such a cheerful prospect!"
"Mother, it is my wedding day. Kindly refrain from planning my pregnancies for another week at least."
"Oh, hush. A woman must have something to look forward to in life."
I rose from the chair, because if I stayed any longer I would tell her that a woman should create her own goals and that they need not solely center on domestic accomplishments and offspring—but then we would begin to argue, and I did not want discord on my wedding day.
Returning to the front room, I laid my hand on Eamon's arm. "We will need to delay our departure a little while."
He nodded. "How can I help?"
"Fetch a bucket of water, and I'll get a mop."
We did not leave the house until the floors were spotless, despite my mother's protests when she realized what we were doing. For all her fuss, I knew she was grateful. By the time we grabbed our bags and mounted Elatha and Nehalennia, the wind had slowed, and the rain had abated to a drizzle. Still, when we arrived at the cabin in the hills, my woolen coat and my dress were soaked through.
The place was cold and dark inside, so I took off my coat and built a fire while Eamon put Elatha and Nehalennia in the two narrow stalls out back. By the time he returned, the flames were crackling merrily, turning the cabin into the cozy sanctuary I remembered. I inhaled deeply—pine and herbs, wood smoke and horse, earth and rain. My favorite blend of scents.
"You should take off those wet things." Eamon stood behind me, a looming bulk of heat and muscle at my back.
"I fear I cannot undo all these slippery little buttons." I twisted to face him, offering my saddest expression, complete with a pouting lower lip.
He stared at the swell of my mouth. "I find myself wanting to very gently bite that lip of yours," he said. "Is that—allowed?"
"Anything is allowed now." I pushed the tantalizing lip out further and rose on my toes to reach his mouth. He took my lip in his teeth, as gently as promised, and teased it a little before kissing me soundly. A whisper of pleasure traveled through me.
"Now will you help me out of these troublesome clothes?" I turned my back to him again.
"I can try." He started at my collar, his thick fingers struggling a little over the tiny buttons of my dress. But he persisted.
"I feel that our wedding vows were lacking in some areas," he said."For one thing, I do not expect the impossible from you."
"What do you mean?"
"In no world would I ever expect you to obey me, especially not against your own conscience."
"Thank you."
"I will tell you when I think you are wrong, of course."
