She sat a moment longer, wondering what to do. She had yearned to retire each night in the cozy double bed in Brand’s room, the quiet cadence of his breathing lulling her into a dreamless sleep. This was not quite what she had envisioned, but deciding she was being foolish, Amelia settled herself on the far side of the bed. Getting comfortable proved difficult however, and Amelia found herself fidgeting and shifting until she heard him release a sigh. She froze, determined to not move a muscle, a quiet “sorry” escaping her lips.
“Just sleep, darlin’. You’re all wrung out. Just sleep.” Brand’s voice was soft and only a little exasperated. For some reason, Amelia was reassured and allowed her body to relax on the hay-filled mattress. Laying in the semi-darkness of the moonlit night, she studied the broad, bare back of her husband. Brand’s body was thick with muscle from the hours spent at the smithy. A smile tugged her lips as she took in the blanket which even for the cool night, was tucked under his arm, exposing most of his torso. Her gaze slid down the length of his body, admiring the clean “V” of his back as it tapered into slim hips. Her smile broadened as she saw two bare feet kicked out from beneath the blanket.
Amelia sighed. Her husband was a very handsome man. Her eyes traveled to his back and shoulder again, her fingers itching to weave themselves in the deep brown hair curling at his neck. In truth, as unexpected as it was to find herself laying in Brand’s bed with him beside her, there was nowhere else she would rather be.
As her eyes started to drift closed, Amelia wondered what it would feel like-to reach out and touch the smooth skin of Brand’s back.
Brand’s eyes flew open for the second time that night, his heart racing as he felt the soft, cool hand of his wife touching the bare skin of his back. Only this time he did not fly out of his bed as if the devil himself was after him. No, this time he didn’t move at all, not a single twitch of his muscles. He waited. A few moments later her hand fell slack, still touching him, but without intent. He could hear it then, the quiet measure of her breathing as she slept.
Brand sighed, willing his body to relax so he could join her in sleep. Maybe he should start going to the smithy again. He hadn’t been back, not since the night he had found Amelia in the alley. If he was going to keep his hands off his wife until he was sure she was ready for all that a married relationship entailed, he would need to drain his body to the point of fatigue. Yes, tomorrow he would go back to the smithy. As for tonight, he would savor the heaven that was Amelia’s soft touch on his back.
Chapter 12
The next morning Brand awoke with his left arm tingling, his senses bombarded with the scent of lavender. Awaking completely, he realized sometime during the night, he had ended up curled around his wife. His left arm was tucked up under her lavender-scented head, which was directly under his nose. His right arm wrapped snuggly around her waist, holding her against his chest.
Brand closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, memorizing the feel of her body against his own, her sweet scent. Once again, he berated himself for not making her his on their wedding night as the desire to wake her with soft kisses consumed him. With a sigh, Brand slid his arm out from under her head, careful not to wake her, and rolled off his own side of the bed. With one last look at the beauty sleeping peacefully in his bed, Brand quietly yanked on some trousers and made his way down the stairs.
The kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of coffee, regrettably overcoming the remnants of Amelia’s lavender from his senses. Ethan sat at the table, a steaming mug of coffee clutched between his hands, eyes red from lack of sleep.
“Brand, I’ve tried real hard not to meddle in this marriage of yours, but I gotta tell you, I sure hope the new sleeping arrangement is for good. Maybe we’ll all start gettin’ some sleep.”
Brand only grunted as he took down a mug and filled it with the rich brew from the pot on the stove. Familiar with Ethan’s coffee making skills, Brand also added a spoonful of sugar and a fair amount of cream to his cup before sitting down across the table from his brother.
Ethan sat looking at him expectantly.
“What,” Brand asked, inhaling deeply of the coffee’s aroma.
“What happened? Why the hell was she screamin’ like the reaper himself was standin’ over her?” Ethan plunked his mug down as he eyed his older brother.
“Thought she saw something at the window… someone.” Brand kept his eyes trained on his coffee, wondering what Ethan would think.
“Someone at the window? Brand, that’s two stories up! A body’d have to have a ladder to get up there!” Ethan paused, shaking his head. “Harmon. She thought it was Harmon.” It wasn’t a question, but Brand could see the wrinkle in Ethan’s forehead as he thought on it. “Where is he anyway?”
“At the Doc’s. I talked to Dylan yesterday. Harmon will move to the jailhouse today. Dylan’s had someone there 'round the clock, Ethan, keeping an eye on him. I don’t think there is any way he coulda come out this way, even if he was well enough to do it.”
Ethan sighed, his head hanging low as he rolled his shoulders. “Well, either way, it’s obvious she’s scared to death. She leaves the light on every night. We’ve both heard her crying...and this ain’t the first time she’s screamed. Not that I blame her one bit. But, Brand, how much more can she take?”
Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, Brand wished he could wipe his problems away as easily as the sleep in his eyes. But he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Amelia had lived a traumatized life for who knew how long- in utter secrecy. Brand was worried for her mind and worried for her heart. He longed to help her, to offer her comfort and love.
“Well, maybe it will help her- bein’ in with me. Maybe she will rest easier.”
“She might rest easier, but what about you, big brother,” Ethan teased, a knowing grin on his face.
“Oh, I imagine I’ll be makin’ a lot of trips down to the crick,” Brand laughed good-naturedly. It was his own fault after all.
“Makin’ lots of trips to the crick for what?”
Amelia grinned as she took in the two men sitting at the table, both looking as though their mama caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Her smile broadened as Brand’s cheeks actually turned red.
“Well, for bathin’, of course,” Brand said amid Ethan’s chuckles. “Nothin’ like a good wash in the crick.”
Amelia eyed them skeptically. She was missing something, she just knew it. She made her way to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup of the strong brew. Knowing one of the men had made it, she added a generous helping of both sugar and cream. She usually tried to beat them to making the coffee, but it had been a difficult night and she had slept later than usual.
Last night. Amelia shivered, the terror of the night before lingering. She knew there was no logical explanation for what she had seen in the window. She knew Harmon was being guarded at Doc Childers’ and would be moved to the jail that very day.
What would happen then? Dylan had explained to her he couldn’t keep Harmon indefinitely, but that he was making arrangements for her brother to leave town. She supposed she should feel relieved, but mostly she felt...unsettled.
“How’d you sleep, honey,” Brand asked, slipping his arm across the back of her chair once she was seated at the table.
“All right, I think,” Amelia replied, heat rising in her cheeks as she gazed at him through lowered lashes. In truth, it had been the best night’s sleep she could remember for a very long time, dreamless and safe. It had taken some time to finally relax and drift off, but once she had-she didn’t think she’d even moved all night. “I’m sorry I woke you both.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” Ethan said firmly, rising from the table.
“Nope, nothin’ to be sorry about at all.” Brand agreed.
“I went out this mornin’. I didn’t see tracks- or footprints. Didn’t look like anybody had been out there,” Ethan offered as he stretched, arching his back until it looked as though he would toppl
e over. “I’ll head on out, Brand, and get started with that colt.” And with a nod in Amelia’s direction, Ethan went outside.
Amelia toyed nervously with her coffee mug, disconcerted after being alone with her husband last night. She felt his eyes on her and looked up to meet them, immediately arrested by his handsome features. She drank in his deep blue eyes, their color reminding her of the faded denims he wore every day. They were framed by thick, long lashes above chiseled cheekbones. His chestnut hair, exactly the color of Amy’s, lay in waves over his forehead and ears. He hadn’t shaved that morning and bristly whiskers shadowed his lower cheeks and jawline.
“I’d like you to move your stuff into my room today.” Brand met her gaze frankly as he spoke and Amelia forced her thoughts back to focus on what he was saying.
“You-what?” Amelia stuttered. Had she heard him correctly?
“You heard me, darlin’. Move all your stuff into my room-our room. I don’t know what exactly happened last night, but I think I like keeping you close anyway, alright?”
Amelia nodded, numbly. In truth, there was nowhere she would rather be than with Brand.
“Good. Maybe we’ll all sleep better.” Brand smiled wryly, dimples showing in his cheek. Amelia knew he was referring to her nightmares and felt ashamed-humiliated. Humiliated that she brought emotional trauma to their marriage and Brand was saddled with dealing with her.
“I’ll be workin’ that colt with Ethan today after chores,” Brand said as he rose from the table, stretching in the exact manner Ethan had, bringing a small smile to her face. “We’ll be back in for some breakfast here shortly.”
Again, Amelia just nodded. She watched her husband as he walked out, heard his heavy footsteps on the rough boards of the porch and wished things were different. She wished Brand had married her because he loved her, not because he was trying to save her. She still didn’t understand how she had come to be here, sitting in the Callahan’s kitchen- now her kitchen- with plans to move all her clothing and personal effects into Brand’s bedroom. She had never imagined it could happen, not in her wildest dreams.
Amelia took another sip of her steaming coffee before rising to make a breakfast of fried eggs and flapjacks. It didn’t really matter how she'd gotten here, she would just be thankful-and try to be the best wife to Brand she knew how to be. Everything else? Well, she’d just wait and see.
Brand smiled later that day as he walked into his newly transformed bedroom. Not only had Amelia moved in her clothing, but had changed his bedspread from the beat-up old quilt he’d been using since he could remember, to one he had never seen before. The star pattern of red and blue was appealing, neither overly feminine or masculine. She had replaced the pillow slips as well to match the coverlet. Glancing around he noticed a small wooden box from out in the barn had been cleaned up and was now home to all the things he was forever dumping on top of the bureau. Laid next to it was a brush and mirror set. The rugs from Amy’s room were resting on either side of the bed.
She had cleaned up, too. Gone were the piles of clothes and in their place a basket he supposed was for holding laundry. Her dresses hung on the previously empty hooks on the wall and Brand decided to ask Ethan to help him scoot the wardrobe from Amy’s room into this one. Curious, he peeked into the drawers of the bureau. Along the right side were his own clothes- flannels, shirts, and pants. All neatly folded. Along the left side- Brand immediately closed the first drawer he came to on the other side. It was filled with everything lacy, silky, and frilly. He had a feeling the brief vision of the contents of that drawer were going to haunt him for a long time to come. He supposed that was what came of snooping around.
“I moved some things around.”
Brand whirled to see her standing in the doorway, nervously fiddling with her apron strings.
“Oh, it’s fine, fine. I guess I didn’t think things through very well.” He motioned to her clothes hanging on the hooks. “I’ll move that wardrobe in here for your dresses and such.”
“No, no. It’s no bother to keep them on the hooks,” she rushed to reassure him.
“It’s no bother to move it, either. Ethan and I will do it this evening.” Brand shoved his hands in the front pockets of his denim’s. He figured now was as good a time as any to talk to her about going to the smithy. “I was also thinkin’ about going into Alan’s this evening. It’s been awhile since I’ve been and the work is pilin’ up on me out in the barn.”
Brand watched closely for her reaction and was unprepared for what he saw. Fear. He sought to reassure her. “Ethan’ll be home.”
She stood there quietly watching him as she leaned against the door frame, until Brand had to wonder what she was thinking. Finally, as Brand was beginning to think he might explode, she spoke.
“Can I go with you?” Her voice was soft and unsure, her hands now twisted firmly in the apron strings.
Brand stepped forward until he was directly in front of her. Reaching out he captured her hands within his own and worked the fabric from her fingers before raising them to his lips. She smelled of dough and cinnamon. He was coming to realize that his wife loved to bake sweets and now associated the scent of fresh baked bread with her. Bread and lavender.
“Darlin’, you can go with me anywhere.” Brand kissed the back of each hand, and her shoulders visibly drooped in relief. It troubled him that she doubted her place with him about as much as it pleased him that she wanted to be with him. “We’ll leave after supper.”
She nodded and Brand let go of her hands. He glanced around the room again. “It looks nice in here...real nice.” With a firm kiss to her cheek and a wink, Brand made his way down the stairs and outside to finish his work loading the tools and things that needed repairing into the bed of the wagon.
Chapter 13
As the weeks of early summer passed, Brand and Amelia established a routine of sorts. Two or three times a week they would travel into town after dinner. Brand worked on various projects at the forge while Amelia kept busy with her knitting or mending. He thought she would tire of sitting in the hot little building, but she continued to surprise him, waiting anxiously on the front porch as he saddled Dancy or hitched the team to the wagon, sewing basket hooked on her arm. After the first week or so, Brand conceded defeat and brought a comfortable chair from home for her to use as she kept him company.
Brand fixed tools and such from the ranch or sometimes Alan would leave an unfinished project for him. Brand was itching to work on an idea he had for Amelia’s birthday, but wasn’t sure how to get it done with her sitting five feet away.
Most evenings passed quietly, with only a few words exchanged between them and others they would engage in deep conversations that served to help them get to know each other. Brand learned that Amelia had a deep love of reading and so he had taken to picking up books for her at Rawlin’s Mercantile, as it had been renamed. He enjoyed seeing her put away her mending and become engrossed in a new book. Sometimes she would read a passage to him, something funny or profound. It was always entertaining to see what she found worth sharing.
In fact, the only plague on an otherwise peaceful existence was her brother Harmon. After spending a week at Doc Childers’ recuperating from the injuries received from Brand’s fists, Harmon went to the jail where Dylan held him for two weeks for assaulting Amelia. As they had discussed, Dylan could not legally keep Harmon in jail. No laws existed to protect women from men who were the head of the household. And so, Harmon was released with the stipulation that he would leave Carson’s Gulch and never come back. Dylan, himself, had escorted an angry Harmon from town with a horse and his cut from the sale of the mercantile.
Dylan hadn’t wanted to say anything in front of Amelia, but confided to Brand he didn’t think they had seen the last of Harm. And so, it was that Brand didn’t hardly go anywhere without Amelia. He carted her to Miss Ellie’s for a weekly visit. They had dinner out at Amy and Beau’s place. They were always together, and for all the world
to see they appeared to be a happily married couple, and for the most part they were.
Since the night Amelia moved into the room she now shared with Brand, her nightmares had become less and less frequent- and Brand was thankful for it. He was still disturbed by the presence of a wife in his bed when he was unable to love her the way he wanted to. He was consoled, however, when he woke most mornings with her in his arms, knowing for certain they had both fallen asleep on opposite sides of the bed. Neither mentioned it, but it was reassuring nonetheless.
“She sure is a beauty.” Sawyer startled Brand from his musings.
Brand shot him a quick glance, before returning his gaze to his wife where she stood chatting near the food table at the Fourth of July picnic. He had to agree, Amelia was a beauty.
“All that glorious hair.” A twinge of unease rippled through Brand at Sawyer’s almost worshipful observation, not at all appreciating the man’s blatant and inappropriate admiration of his wife. “Puts me in mind of rich, dark whiskey.”
Whiskey? What was Sawyer talking about? If they were going to make comparisons to strong drinks, Amelia’s hair was more the color of champagne. As Brand turned to question the man, he caught a glimpse of another woman standing just behind Amelia. A woman whose hair was the color of whiskey.
“Danielle?” Brand eyed his friend speculatively as Sawyer devoured Beau’s little sister with his eyes from across the crowded square.
“Of course, Danielle,” Sawyer responded, his gaze never straying from the dark-haired beauty. Brand watched in facination as Sawyer’s eyes darkened, his tone turning bitter. “Excuse me, I mean to say Miss Weston. I shouldn’t want to earn myself another slap for presuming to utter her Christian name.”
Loved from Afar Page 7
