He bowed his head, rubbing at his hair, as he fought doubts. Mary had never seemed dissatisfied by his lovemaking, but then she’d never had another lover. Perhaps Charlotte compared him to Warren’s cousin and realized all she was missing. All she had given up by marrying Dalton. He let out a deep breath, as doubt took root deep in his soul. A doubt he feared he could never banish.
* * *
Charlotte sat at the counter in the bakery, watching as Annabelle measured flour and sugar for a cake. Fidelia washed dishes, while Jane tended the front. Jessamine had just poked her head in, seemingly delighted to have a large group of women to chat with.
Jessamine stared at Charlotte with her reporter’s assessing look, her hand lazily stroking Aileana’s back. “You don’t look like a blushing bride the morning after. You look like you’re on the verge of attending a funeral.”
“Jessamine!” Annabelle scolded. “Hush.”
“Well, someone needs to say it,” Jessamine said, pushing back a lock of her red hair, as she raised an eyebrow, daring anyone to contradict her assessment. When no one did, she gave a small huff of satisfaction. “See? You all agree. You’re just too polite to say anything. Then she’d leave, and we’d have no idea what the strife was about.”
“There is no strife,” Charlotte protested. “And I have no interest in being in your newspaper.”
Jessamine laughed, settling into a rocking chair in the corner. “I fear you will be disappointed on that score. You will be alluded to, as I discuss Warren’s horrible cousin. It can’t be helped.” She smiled. “But I have no desire to talk about anyone’s wedding night in my paper. That is far too personal.” Her cognac-colored eyes glowed with mischievousness. “However, not so personal you can’t talk with us about it.”
Against her will, Charlotte giggled. “You are as incorrigible as your husband.” When that comment made Jessamine beam, Charlotte shook her head. “I’d thought you’d be chagrined.”
“Why should I be embarrassed by the truth?” Jessamine asked, as she shrugged. “We are who we are, and we accept ourselves.” She smiled broadly, as Sorcha emerged from the back room, tiptoeing as she shut the door.
“The wee beasts are down for their naps,” she said with a smile and a sigh. She collapsed in the other rocking chair. “So, are we finally talking about Charlotte’s disastrous weddin’ night?”
Gaping at everyone present, Charlotte sputtered, “How? How do you know it’s disastrous?”
“Well, ye’re out here with us, rather than sequestered in there with him,” Sorcha said with a wave of her hand to indicate the bed in the other room.
“I’d never stay abed when others were nearby. Or when work was to be done,” Charlotte said, her cheeks reddening.
“Ah, you must overcome your reticence,” Fidelia said. “And I don’t say that as a former Boudoir Beauty. I say that as a woman who loves a man but has two children. If you worry about others being in the house, you’ll never have time for you and your husband.” She saw the other women smile and nod. “As long as you have a closed door, and you know you won’t be interrupted, enjoy the time you have with your husband.”
“I think ’tis more than just this mornin’,” Sorcha said. “Were ye disappointed in the man?”
“No,” Charlotte gasped. “No,” she said again, suddenly fighting tears. “I … I fear he was wishing it were Mary in his arms. Mary, who knew what he liked. Not some woman with little experience, who threw away her innocence on a worthless man.” She sniffled.
Annabelle cast a glance around the room, before setting aside the mixing bowl. “If that’s how you felt last night, it’s no wonder you’re sitting here, looking morose and confused.” She moved around the kitchen island and wrapped an arm around Charlotte’s shoulder. “The first question I have for you is, are you all right?”
Charlotte furrowed her brows, as she gazed into Annabelle’s worried eyes. “All right?” Her eyes rounded, and then she blushed in mortification. “Of course I am! He’s a wonderful man.” She ignored the other women in the room, listening to their conversation, and focused on Annabelle.
“If he’s wonderful, what happened?” Annabelle asked, her voice kind and understanding. Like a doting mother’s voice. A loving sister’s voice.
Charlotte’s eyes filled. “I’ve never had this,” she whispered. “I’ve never known such kinship.”
Annabelle smiled, squeezing her arm. “Well, I’m afraid you’re stuck with us. You’re one of us now.” She waited patiently for Charlotte to speak.
“I … I felt so inept. I didn’t know what to do. And he was so kind and patient, but I didn’t know if I could ask if he enjoyed himself.” She closed her eyes, flushing beet red, as she ducked her head. “What if he said he hadn’t? Or I could tell he lied as he tried to protect my feelings?”
“Oh, Charlotte,” Annabelle murmured, as she tugged her into her embrace. “We all feel inept and inadequate at some point. But nothing ever improves if we don’t talk. You have to speak with him.”
“How?” Charlotte cried out, her hand waving in the air. “I can’t just blurt it out now, asking him if he enjoyed himself.”
Fidelia approached and spoke in a quiet voice. “I think you might need to.” When she saw Charlotte’s instinctual shake of her head in denial, Fidelia said, “I worried Bears would believe I was comparing him to every man who had joined me at the Boudoir.” Her innate vitality dimmed as she spoke of her time at the town’s brothel. “I needed to reassure him that, when I was with him, the only man I thought of was my husband. It was a gift to him but also to myself.”
Charlotte stared at her in confusion. “Why for both of you?”
“By alleviating his fears, it allowed both of us to be free of the restraints of our pasts. It showed my trust in him.” She smiled, her eyes now glowing as she talked about her husband. “I won’t lie and say it was easy. It was very hard. I had nightmares to overcome, but I learned to relish sleeping in Bears’s arms.”
“I pushed him away last night, after we … we …” Charlotte motioned with her arm. “He wanted to hold me close. I’ve never been held like that after … after … and I was afraid. It’s so different when you’re not wearing clothes.” She broke off what more she would have said, afraid the women would laugh at her naive statement. At the deafening silence in the room, she blurted out, “I didn’t want to give him every part of me.”
“Oh, Charlotte,” Sorcha said, as she rose, enfolding her in a fierce hug. “Ye have it all backward, lass. Ye give every part of yerself so that he will do the same. Ye are no’ losin’ yourself. Ye’re gainin’ everythin’. A true partnership. A husband who would walk through fire for ye.”
Charlotte looked around at the women gathered in the room, her gaze shrouded. “I don’t know how to be brave, like all of you. I don’t have your courage.”
“Hogwash,” Jane said. She stepped forward. “I understand what you’re feeling. You’re an outsider, like I was when I first arrived. Before I accepted my place in the family. The difference is, you aren’t tied to the women here by blood of any kind. But that doesn’t mean the offer of kinship is any less sincere.”
Jane looked at her family. At their subtle nods, she said, “All of us have had to face our deepest fears. Annabelle had to face losing Cailean, if she didn’t learn to trust him again after a horrible betrayal. Jessamine had to overcome fears of infertility. Sorcha worried none could truly love her because the woman who raised her was cruel and resented her. Fidelia thought herself unworthy after working at the Boudoir. I’d had a failed relationship with a mean man who tried to destroy my spirit. And my own father nearly broke my heart.” She shook her head, clearing her eyes of tears that threatened to fall from the memory of those days. “But, through it all, we found the strength to believe. To trust. And to love. As you must.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
“If ye dinna, then ye will lose him,” Sorcha whispered, her gaze sorrowful. �
��An’ that would be the greatest misfortune of all.”
“Believe what you know to be true here,” Fidelia murmured, pointing to her chest and alluding to her heart, “not the lies someone has fed you. Too often I believed the falsehoods peddled by someone intent on using and abusing me. Don’t give anyone that power over you.”
Charlotte sighed, resting her head against Annabelle’s shoulder, feeling safe and secure for the moment, although her mind raced at the prospect of being as brave as the women so effortlessly offering her kinship.
* * *
Charlotte stiffened as she approached the wagon. Smiling bravely at Dalton, she saw him speaking with Adella, and Charlotte wished she could run and hide. Instead she firmed her shoulders and approached her husband. “Hello,” she murmured, standing beside him.
“Love,” he said, reaching for her hand and lacing their fingers together. “We have a farewell committee.” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at her, causing her to relax against him.
“I’ll never believe you truly wanted to marry this imposter,” Adella hissed. “She’s duped you!”
Dalton took a deep breath, his hand tightening its hold on Charlotte’s. “Ma’am, I’d watch how you speak about my wife.” Although outwardly friendly, his blue eyes had turned glacially cold, and he stared at Adella with lethal hatred. “I fear we have a different definition of trickery. I would consider the ultimate deception to be a woman of society inviting an innocent woman for a visit and serving her a tea that would lead to the loss of her child.”
Adella scoffed. “Is that what she told you?” She rolled her eyes. “Why would I deign to hurt her when I wanted to raise the child myself?” She looked over Charlotte in her green calico dress with unconcealed loathing. “Every man wanders, dear. You’ll discover that soon enough.” She focused on Dalton again. “She should have agreed to give me the child, rather than drag you into some elaborate farce, after she suffered from her attempt to rid herself of the brat growing in her belly.”
Charlotte turned, ignoring Adella. “I swear it’s as I said, Dalton. There were two teapots. She didn’t drink what I did.” When he stared at her with an implacable gaze, she whispered, “Please.”
He blinked once and focused again on the woman who had harmed his wife. “Tell me, Mrs. Coldwell. I never did ascertain the reason for your arrival to our small town.” He ignored the fact that two McLeod brothers, plus Warren, Frederick, and Bears all loitered behind Adella, blatantly listening in.
“Why, when I learned my dear Orville’s cousin lived in this godforsaken territory too, I knew I needed to do my Christian duty and visit him. And urge him to consider moving to Butte to live near us. Family must always stick together.”
“Is that so?” Warren said in a low voice. “Is that why I hadn’t seen you once in the two weeks since your arrival until last night? I find that Orville’s side of the family only ever cared to seek me out when he needed help with a legal matter. Otherwise, they never had much use for me. I wasn’t entertaining enough for them.”
Adella gasped, as she spun around to face the men behind her. “You are uncouth men, listening in on a conversation that doesn’t pertain to you.”
“Oh, but it does, ma’am,” Frederick said with a mocking bow of his head. “Dalton’s one of us. You hurt him, or his wife, and you’ve harmed us. It’s as simple as that.” He smiled when she stared at him, as though he had the logic of a fool hen.
“Well, I fear you’ve been taken in by a charlatan. No matter what she’s told you, she desired my husband’s attentions.” She spoke in a loud carrying voice, smiling as a few of the passing townsfolk stumbled when they walked past. “She does not know the meaning of the words loyalty or fidelity. It would be better for all if she were to return to Butte with me.”
Dalton tilted his head. “Because you are so familiar with those sentiments?”
Adella preened at him, delighted that he was more quick witted than she assumed a cowpoke would be.
Charlotte stood beside her husband, quivering, as everyone spoke around her, as though she weren’t here. As though everything she had related had been a figment of her imagination. “No,” she whispered. “I will never return to Butte. If I do, you’ll find a way to hurt me. To …”
Adella stared at her with patent pity. “My dear, why would I do any such thing? You know we want to make amends for what occurred. We were eager to offer you a position in our home as a maid.” She brightened. “Or a cook. I hear you are quite adept at that trade.”
Warren studied her. “Charlotte’s a married woman. Inform Orville she’s beyond your sphere of influence.” His gaze hardened. “And don’t imagine the pastor will take your interference in his proceedings in this town lightly. He’s an upstanding man of the cloth.”
“Oh, I’m certain Pastor Cruikshanks can be persuaded to see the benefit of looking the other way. He’s always been a reasonable man.”
“You know him?” Cailean asked. At her satisfied smile, Cailean grinned. “Then ’tis my pleasure to inform you that he left town. In February. We have a new pastor, and he’s a good man.” His smile broadened when she paled.
Dalton finally spoke, in a low ire-filled voice. “I’ve had enough, Mrs. Coldwell. You disparage me and the sanctity of the vows I took yesterday when I married my wife. I was not coerced. I was not bamboozled. I was not so out of my mind with lust that I didn’t know what I was doing.” He glared the woman into silence, as he released Charlotte’s hand and wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, hauling her against his side. “I married her knowing everything she suffered at the hands of your husband. Fully understanding your part in her pain. I will never allow you to harm her again.”
“Surely you can see the benefit to looking the other way?” Adella said. “Financial compensations—”
“I don’t want money!” Dalton roared. “I don’t want anything but her,” he said next, in a near whisper, all the more powerful for the fierce emotion lacing his voice. “Leave our town and never return. You are not welcome here.”
“Aye,” Ewan said, as he sauntered up to them. “An’ I ken Jessie is writin’ a tremendous article about the interloper from Butte. Should be somethin’ to read. Perhaps she’ll send it along to one of the papers in Butte?”
Adella paled. “She wouldn’t! You wouldn’t!” She spun to gaze imploringly at Warren.
“Jessie’s her own woman. She’ll do what she sees fit. And I’d never interrupt her in this endeavor, for it seems just to me.”
“Vile heathens,” she rasped, as she glared at them. “I warned Orville that we should never leave Philadelphia.” With that, she spun on her heel to march away.
Charlotte let out a sputtering breath, as she watched Adella walk in the direction of the hotel. Dalton eased his hold on her, and she whimpered, “No, please hold me.”
He stilled, his muscles tight with tension. “You can’t have it both ways, Lottie.” After an agonizingly long moment, he pulled her close. “Shh, love, you’re all right. You’re fine.” When tears soaked his shirt, he groaned. “Don’t cry so, love. She’s not worth your emotions.”
Frederick approached the couple and sighed. “So much for having a wedding and starting a marriage without scandal. I’m certain this encounter is now the most-talked-about episode in town in recent months.” He patted Dalton on his shoulder, as he soothed Charlotte, and Frederick moved away.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered against his chest. “I knew better than to accept your proposal. I knew I’d bring you nothing but problems.”
He shook his head. “No, Lottie. This is nothing. Defending you from that viper was a pleasure.” He released her and backed away a step. “Living without your regard? Without your desire for true intimacy? That is what I mourn.” He gave a brisk nod and left her to join the men in readying the wagons.
“Dalton,” she whispered, watching him leave her behind, when she still yearned for his arms around her. Was this how he’d felt la
st night, when she’d spurned his touch? When she insisted on sleeping alone on the edge of the bed, wrapped up in a blanket, so he wouldn’t touch her? She rubbed at her head, overcome with the sense she had just lost something precious.
Chapter 12
Charlotte sat beside Dalton, the ranch behind them. With the long June nights, he had said they would arrive at the Henderson homestead in an hour or so, just in time for a cold supper. She gazed at the mountains, subtly glowing in the early evening light. Little snow remained on the peaks, and the lush green of previous weeks had already faded to a dull dun color.
After an hour of silence, Dalton said, “Tell me the true reason that woman came to town.”
Charlotte jerked at the harsh tone in his voice. “I’m confused by all she said to me. She claims she wanted to convince me to give her my baby.”
Dalton frowned, his gaze on the horses and the faint wagon ruts in front of him. “Which means, she didn’t give you tea to cause you to lose your baby, if she came to town believin’ you were still with child.” His fingers tightened on the horse’s reins, causing the horses to toss their heads as though they sensed his tension. “Why make up such a story?”
“I didn’t! I swear,” she gasped. Her hands covered her belly in a protective manner. When they hit a jarring rut, one hand flew out to grab the seat, so she wouldn’t bounce off. She gazed at the rangeland, but she saw those disjointed moments in Butte, when all she knew was fear and betrayal and heartbreak. “I was told. By Orville. As I left the house. That she had tricked me. That I was a naive fool for accepting tea with her because she was vindictive and cruel and always treated his … lovers in such a way.”
Healing Montana Love: Bear Grass Springs, Book Eleven Page 14
