Warning: contains mentions of blood.


Part 7

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The journey to church seemed long and laborious as John rowed them ever closer.

"Wouldn't it be easier to get a horse," Donna suggested.

"What would I do with a horse the rest of the time I'm not travelling? It isn't cost effective to have one," he pointed out.

"I suppose so," she reluctantly agreed. "This church you go to, is it very big?" she wondered.

"Here's your chance to find out," he announced. "We've arrived."

It didn't look like they had arrived anywhere so she quickly took in their surroundings filled with trees and a lawn type area that lead down to the river bank; but just around a bend in the river sat the local church for Little Galliford. Saint Martin's. In today's terms it would be described as the size of a scouts' hut. It was certainly much smaller than any church Donna was used to attending.

The first pang of something hit her as John assisted her climb out of his boat. "Is there any way they will know about me?" she wondered.

"Not to my knowledge," he admitted. "You will be a very pleasant surprise." With that, he planted a kiss on her cheek.

She smiled at his proud daftness. "I will be a huge surprise there for sure but what about the rest of our situation, Mr Smith?"

"Let's find out, Mrs Smith," he brightly offered, holding out his arm in invitation for her to take it. He beamed with delight when she wrapped her arm around his, and gave her had a consoling pat. "They will soon appreciate your society as much as I do."

She merely grimaced briefly in answer because some of the town folk were fast approaching. A rather formal looking middle-aged couple known as the Caldecotts eyed the pair of them cautiously.

"Good morning to you both; sir, madam," John sung out in merry greeting.

The Caldecotts gawped at him; evidently rather surprised to find out who this 'stranger' was.

"Is that you, Doc? May the Lord strike me down you have changed!" Mr Caldecott blurted out before he remembered his manners. "Good morning to you and your fair companion."

It was obviously a hint to make introductions. "May I introduce you to my wife. Mrs Smith, this is Mr and Mrs Caldecott."

"How do you do"s were pleasantly exchanged.

Mrs Caldecott stared at Donna in open interest. "When did you acquire a new wife, Doctor?"

"Last time I travelled to Galliport," John answered. "Fortunately I met her just as she alighted from the ferry."

"Doc, did I hear you say you had acquired a wife?" another man walked up to ask; luckily cutting short any further questions from the Caldecotts.

"Indeed I did," John readily replied. "Mr Ferguson, may I present Mrs Smith."

More pleasantries were exchanged; but Donna could feel lots of inquisitive eyes on her as a large family of simple means arrived at the church doors. Another couple eventually appeared, but the rest of the congregation of about thirty people was made up of single men. All of the people who hadn't been introduced to her stared at the Smiths, obviously wondering who this new couple could be.

Of course, she reasoned to herself, they would not recognise John in his clean clothes and freshly shaven face. They were used to the filthy mess she had first encountered. In light of that, she tried to smile pleasantly in understanding at them.

Even the rector seemed to not recognise John, and spoke about welcoming newcomers into the fold. His sermon changed direction once he had asked John his name; after voicing the genuine shock of the congregation about the visible change in John's appearance. What then appeared in the sermon mortified Donna as Rev McGregor went on and on about issue from a marriage, how it was the duty of a wife to provide offspring in the marital bed; blah blah blah. It was like a knife twisting in her heart. But more was to come.

Apart from the large family, who Donna quickly learned were called the Wilsons, the only other two ladies, Mrs Caldecott and Mrs Brown, quickly came together and descended upon Donna as she stood slightly away from John as he spoke to some of the men outside the church.

"Good day," Donna greeted them.

"Good day. My, you are a sneaky one, Mrs Smith," Mrs Brown commented.

"Sneaky?" Donna queried.

"By marrying our community's most eligible bachelor," Mrs Caldecott informed her. "Mrs Wilson was hoping her eldest daughter would be chosen."

Appalled, Donna said, "But the girl does not appear to be even fourteen years of age yet."

"Old enough to be betrothed," Mrs Brown pointed out. "How did you come to be acquainted with the Doc?"

"Through a friend in London," Donna cautiously replied. "He wrote a letter of introduction, I met Mr Smith and the next thing we knew, we were married. It seemed to take no time at all."

"How unusual," Mrs Caldecott remarked.

"I just knew he was the man for me," Donna continued. Surely they wouldn't push for more information. If they did, she would politely decline to answer and sidestep them by being vague. After all, it was none of their business how the marriage had come about. Marriages of convenience could be found all over the world. Her circumstances were merely a little unusual, she told herself; steeling for a defensive attack.

"We thought the Doctor was still in mourning for his dear departed late wife," Mrs Brown declared; concern of some sort or another dripping from her words. "It was a huge burden for the poor man losing a beautiful wife such as she."

"So I hear," Donna acknowledged. "But it did not take long for him to sweep me off my feet. Is that not so, Mr Smith?" she asked him as he suddenly appeared by her side.

Thankfully he backed up her declaration, and brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss in a most gentlemanly fashion.

"It did not take me any time at all before I knew you had to become my wife," he agreed in silky tones aimed towards the two ladies. "One of my better decisions. Come and meet some friends of mine, Mrs Smith." He looked squarely at the two women. "Ladies," he acknowledged them with a bob of his head, and a tip of his hat, before he then led Donna away.

As they turned, Mrs Brown could quite clearly be heard to whisper to Mrs Caldecott, "He should have chosen a much younger woman for a wife. One that could cater more for his needs. The likelihood of him replacing his lost children is extremely small. I doubt she could conceive even one child, considering her advanced age, let alone be able to work sufficiently well on his smallholding."

Donna stiffened and went to move in order to berate them; but John hastily shook his head and whispered into her ear, "They are jealous so let them stew."

Stew?! They needed hanging then boiled slowly in their own juices, Donna decided. How dare they upset him with their cruel words. He'd been in such a good mood up until then. She wanted to rip their smug grins right off their lilywhite faces.

Seeing her nostrils flare, he quietly begged, "Please leave it be. They are not worth our attention."

"But they have dismissed your feelings, Mr Smith, in an abominable way," she hissed.

"Next time we meet them I promise you can speak your mind, but not today. You are above them in every way possible."

"Very well," she reluctantly agreed. "Next time they try this they will feel more than the force of my tongue."

Her threatening possessiveness gladdened his heart and he couldn't resist pressing a kiss briefly to her temple.

~o0o~

Coming home from church in their small vessel almost half an hour or so later, Donna suddenly cringed. John immediately stopped rowing to ask, "What is the matter? Are you in pain?"

"Just a twinge," she replied, trying to dismiss the sensation that was ripping through her insides. "I'll be fine in a moment."

Unfortunately, her words coincided with another grimace as the pain briefly soared.

"You are not fine," he insisted, "so do not try to trick me."

She gave him a watery smile. "Honestly, it is nothing."

Evidently he did not believe her for a second, and kept a careful eye on her for the last part of their journey. It was not far from home, otherwise he would not have let the matter drop so readily. Once there, he would insist on examining her, wishes or no wishes. Her health and wellbeing were paramount to him, after all.

Under her steadfast glare, he changed the topic of conversation to their morning in church. Within seconds they were giggling together at the pomposity of the leading ladies of the community.

~o0o~

"John, wake up," she hissed at him.

"What?" He half rolled away, and then came back immediately again.

So she prodded him in the shoulder. "I said wake up," she repeated "You have to get up now."

"What! Why?" he mumbled. "I'm comfy."

"You soon won't be," she quietly voiced.

There was something in her tone that caught his attention, so he forced his eyes to widen and regard her. "What has happened?"

"Oh, nothing much," she reluctantly answered, "but I need to change the bedding."

"It is a little late to worry about… OH!" he murmured as realisation hit.

The reason for her mortification was clearly evident on the bottom sheet. A large stain was developing.

"I need to get it in soak before it is completely ruined."

"I'll help you," he offered. "There's no need to be so embarrassed. Not with me, "he insisted when she continued to look mortified. "And I've seen a lot more blood than this in a bed."

"Not from me you haven't," she blustered. Then much more quietly she commented, "You're not supposed to see this."

"This sign of life is much more welcome than the sight of a man mortally wounded," he reasoned. "I helped my wife give birth to two lovely daughters. This does not compare."

"You had daughters," she echoed in awe; saddened by the thought of his loss. "That's the first time you've done more than vaguely refer to them. I don't even know their names." Seeing his face fall, she quickly assured him, "You don't have to say anything further. It is your loss to keep close to your heart."

"Hannah and Charlotte," he spat out before grief could stop him from doing so.

It was the same expression that had appeared on his face when Mrs Brown at the church had stated, "Now that you have gained a new wife you can have some more children to replace the ones you lost."

At the time, Donna had been dumbfounded that someone could think they would be comforting words. It also meant that there were some graves nearby that she ought to visit and pay her respects to at the first opportunity.

"Where are they buried?" she heard herself ask.

"I will show you next time we go to church," he promised. "But we will worry about that another day. You need to get some rest."

With his help, a fresh new bedsheet was soon in place and they could clamber back beneath the blankets to gain some sleep.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated as they laid down. "I did not want to wake you."

"Hush. Think nothing of it," he assured her with a tender caress. "It was not deliberate on your part. Now, I'm going to turn onto my side and you are to cuddle into my bottom. The heat from my body will help ease your pain."

Snuggling into his back, it was soon evident that he was correct. "Thank you," she murmured, and gave his nape a loving kiss in gratitude.

For once he revelled in her wrapped around his body; and they soon fell into an easy slumber.

~o0o~

Being on her period somehow made things a lot easier between them for more than a few days. It gave her a first class excuse to avoid any intimacy and he had acknowledged the unspoken request without argument. But the respite couldn't last forever, and she was well aware of that fact.

It was as she began to prepare for bed that her previous struggles resurfaced. Donna lifted her head from her task, aware of eyes upon her as she worked. He was watching her again; he was always watching her from afar. Not like some predator though. No, she'd had them in the past, lying in wait around corners, doors, or any other handy feature. John was more patient than that; infinitely patient, like a cross between God and Death. He was waiting for her to make her decision. And he knew she eventually would.

Did he know that she was aware of him whispering sweet nothings into her ear as they lay spooned together in the bed? He spoke of love, of wanting her, of needing her in his life. Sometimes he promised to show his love in any way she desired, using his mouth, his body, his fingers and tongue. That had slightly bothered her. Okay, it had bothered her quite a lot. Because she had no idea what he was offering; and was too afraid to ask him how someone would do that during their waking moments. So she had feigned sleep and ignorance of his murmurings. It was safer that way.

His tiny attentions had grown since they had attended church together for the first time since being married, and not waned as she had expected. He was forever finding small ways to add in a tender touch or caress now upon her exposed flesh. Her skin yearned for those touches; anticipated them when he was near. On the day of church, he had insisted on holding onto her arm possessively whilst introducing her to the smattering of townsfolk who attended, and her senses had wanted to sing with delight. Here with him she felt a belonging that had long eluded her. If she didn't know any better, she would had have thought she was falling in love with him; but that sort of thing didn't happen. Not to her it didn't. But this friendship they had developed between them was nice. It was warm and comfy. In many ways it was the perfect relationship she yearned for. Except for one small thing…

With great care, she lifted up the water jug and poured some warmed water into a bowl. As Donna began to wash her face and body she could feel those soft brown eyes of his paying her careful attention. "What are you doing, cabin boy? Are you watching me?" she queried.

What was the point of even trying to hide the fact? He had been caught gazing at her gradually exposed skin as she moved aside her garments to wash her bare body. He readily confessed, "Yes."

A faint blush spread up her skin. "Why?" she asked and then flinched when he took in a gasp of breath.

"Why, you ask," he began his reply, taking care to keep his tone soft, "when I wonder if you could truly understand how beautiful you look in the glow of the candlelight." When she went to protest, he shushed her by saying, "You are breath-taking, and that makes me want to worship every inch of skin you reveal."

"You're just saying that because you're feeling horny again," she blustered.

"And whose fault is that?" he pretended to gripe, moving closer until he could look her directly in the eye. Reaching out to sweep a strand of her hair out of the way and over her shoulder, he sincerely told her, "You could not be lovelier. The only way this could be improved upon is if you let me kiss you."

"You daft prawn," she chastised him, loving his tender words. But she still tipped forward and brushed her lips against his. "I'll soon be finished here, and then you can carry out your evening ablutions."

"That's a good idea," he hoarsely replied. "But not as good as this…"

With slow but steady movements, he encased her within his arms, brought his head down and lovingly kissed her with growing passion. Oooh, it was a thrilling kiss. It moved her to lift her arms and embrace him in return, her arms around his shoulders and her mouth meshed with his in loving sweeps. The taste of him made her head spin and her breath to flutter in her throat.

When his tongue touched hers, she clung to him in need, letting their tongues glide together in an erotic dance that stunned her senses. More. She wanted more. More of him.

But she also wanted air; so they broke apart, and lightly panted.

"That was some kiss, Mr Smith," she gasped. "I'd better finish with the bowl and let you use it."

His dark intense eyes blinked as though in a trance. "In a moment. While you finish, I will be getting some fresh air," he mumbled. "Out on the erm…"

He didn't complete his sentence but guiltily headed for the door; giving her one last glance before stepping outside.