by Deeanne Gist
“Thus, any man can trifle with her but me?”
“No man can trifle with her, especially you, and that’s an end to it.
Have I made myself clear?”
Josh held himself erect. “Rest assured, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear.” Spinning around, he stormed down the front steps. Drew hesitated, then pulled the door shut behind him.
He disliked being in a chair at the head of the board when Josh was home, particularly after the exchange they’d had at the big house. Their father had certainly never seen the need to establish himself in such a way. But there’d really been nothing left for Drew to do. So he’d just pulled the chair up and taken his place.
He glanced over at Josh. His brother, never one to stay angry long, was back to his old self, entertaining the ladies and telling them of the news from London. He gave them updates on the political climate and answered Constance’s endless questions about her family and friends.
Drew ate his last bite of rabbit, its tender, juicy texture setting well within his stomach but not improving his disposition. He’d planned for this to be his wedding feast, not Josh’s homecoming.
Mary rose to collect the trenchers and take them to the hearth, Constance following her lead. He and Josh shoved the board against the wall, then moved his chair and one bench to the fire.
Picking up his pipe, Drew leaned back and took great pleasure in observing his wife as she scrubbed a trencher with sand from the sand bucket.
He sighed. He, of course, was pleased to have Josh safely home, but for the first time in his life, he resented Josh’s presence and the lack of privacy the cottage provided. Still, he was loath to send him packing off to Nellie’s on the very day of his return.
The women made short work of the trenchers, then stacked them on the shelves.
“Come join us, ladies,” Drew said. “I’ve a need to look at something other than this ill-mannered brother of mine.” He watched them return, Connie taking a place on the end of the bench farthest from his chair. Stifling his disappointment, he focused on the fire.
“Well, Lady Constance, you’ve asked after everyone in your family, you’ve asked after several of your female companions, but you’ve yet to ask me of your father’s reaction to your nuptials.”
Drew stilled.
Constance laid her hands upon her lap. “Only because I’m quite certain of what his reaction was once he read my letter.”
“Are you?”
She nodded. “Anger. A great deal of it.”
“I didn’t give him the letter right away, but once I did, you’re quite right. His anger was something to behold.”
She bit her lip. “And?”
Josh stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. “We had a bit of a discussion, and then he said he’d come and fetch you back this spring.”
Constance’s back straightened. “Spring!”
“Yes. Is that too long to wait, my lady? I’ll take you back on the next boat if you wish it.”
Drew furrowed his brows as her face filled with color and her jaw tightened. Quickly thinking back to the summer night he’d brought her home from the ship, he remembered with clarity her confidence that once her father received word, he would immediately come for her. That bounder. That she wanted to stay now was not at issue here. Her father’s indolent attitude was a slap in her face. “Enough, Josh. We’ll discuss this later.”
Josh sent him a hard look, full of resentment. “I’ll have it from her own lips that she desires to wait. Otherwise, I’ll take her back. We wouldn’t want her to feel obligated to you simply because you’re her protector.”
Drew lurched to his feet. “Outside.”
Josh immediately stood.
“Sit down, the both of you,” Constance exclaimed as she jumped between them. “Sit down. Of course I want to wait--I mean, stay. I’ve already made that perfectly clear to your brother, Josh, but I appreciate your giving me the opportunity to return home right away if I’d wished. Now sit down.”
Drew slowly sunk back into his chair, his temper barely in check. Josh walked to the shelf, slipping the courting stick out from where it had been wedged. He thrust the stick toward Drew, who straightened himself in the chair. What was the matter with Josh? He was acting like a princox. Drew looked at Connie. She gave him a slight shrug of her shoulders. Clearly, she was baffled as well. He made no move to take the stick.
“Do you not wish to woo your lady? You remember how it’s done.
Just think back. Gerald certainly had no problem wielding it.”
Drew narrowed his eyes. Josh was intentionally trying to provoke him. He knew the subject of Gerald was a sensitive one. He knew Drew felt responsible for Nellie’s indiscretion, being the eldest son in the absence of their father.
Drew had had no previous experience with courting rituals, but the use of the courting stick had seemed innocent enough. However, Nellie had not been content to stop there. As all the other courting couples in the area evidently did, she wanted to be bundled up next to her beau, who was bundled separately, and then lie abed and whisper love words to each other. It didn’t take much intelligence to figure that was anything other than a recipe for disaster.
Leah had refused to bundle with Drew, and Josh had never taken advantage of the custom, so Nellie had been the family’s first.
Drew had held serious doubts about the wisdom of it, but Josh had made little of those concerns. Nellie had badgered him about everyone else in the colony doing it. Even Grandma hadn’t objected to the practice. So he’d given in.
When Nellie finally admitted to her condition, he’d been furious-with Gerald, Nellie, Josh, Grandma. Everyone. But most especially with himself. And it had all started with that blasted courting stick.
His lips thinned with irritation. It was pure folly Josh was up to.
Drew watched Josh present one end of the stick to Mary. “Sweet maid, be so kind as to hold this against your ear.”
Her gaze flitted to Constance, pausing there before moving to Drew. She took the stick’s end to her ear. Josh placed his lips at the other end of the hollowed out log, whispering something into it.
Color flooded Mary’s face and she quickly lowered the stick to her lap.
Drew surged forward, wrenching it from him.
Josh bowed to Drew. “No need to grab it from me. I had planned on letting you use it.” He sat on the bench. “Go ahead. Mary and I will chaperone.”
Drew clasped the stick with both hands and slammed it against his thigh. “You’ve overstepped yourself,” he charged, slinging the broken halves into the fire. “Be gone from my sight.”
Josh rose, the muscle in his jaw pulsing. “Certainly.”
He watched Josh climb up the ladder to the loft and descend with two cumbersome ticks slung over his shoulder. “Come, Mary. It is time.”
Mary scrambled to her feet, heading to the door.
Drew curled his fists. It was nothing short of an open challenge. He’d made it clear where he stood on the matter of Mary, yet Josh was flaunting that directive. Not only flaunting, but from the way Mary had responded to his call, Josh had obviously made some kind of arrangement with her.
Josh opened the door.
“A moment, you two!”
Mary froze, and Josh impaled him with his glare.
“Where go you?”
“From your sight, I believe the instructions were.”
“Those instructions were for you, not Mary.”
“She’s going with me. We will spend the whole of this night in the big house. But do not worry. I will see to her protection.”
“She goes nowhere.”
“On the contrary, Drew. It is your wedding night, if you will, and I, for one, fear that if you don’t have total privacy you might never manage it.”
He pierced Josh with his eyes. “Mary, get yourself up to the loft.”
Mary quickly tried to acquiesce, but Josh encircled her arm. “Nay. She goes with me.”
Keeping a loose hold on Mary, Josh dropped the ticks and squared his shoulders. “She will.”
Lord help me! It would serve no purpose whatsoever to come to blows with him, other than possibly to relieve him of whatever devil was in his craw. With supreme effort, Drew reined in his temper and calmed his voice. “I’ll have your word about the concerns I shared with you earlier.”
They stood in silence for several moments before Josh lifted his chin a notch. “I give you my word, none of the concerns you have will come to pass this night. Get your shawl, Mary.”
Mary looked up at Drew. He nodded once. She grabbed her shawl and flew out the door, Josh right behind her with their ticks once again slung over his shoulder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The door swung back open, unable to latch itself after Josh had slammed it. Constance moved nary a muscle. Drew, with a heavy tread, pushed the door shut. “This isn’t exactly the way I had the evening planned.”
She clasped her hands together.
He turned around and leaned against the door, resting his head back as well. His gaze roamed over the beam work supporting the thatched roof. “He’s changed. I haven’t seen him act this way since he was ten and three. He said not a word to me about his broken betrothal, but whatever happened has obviously affected him greatly.”
“Hannah Eastlick is a vicious woman.”
He turned to her. “You know the lady Hannah Eastlick of Bowden?”
She nodded. “Quite well. Her father and mine dealt together often, and I must confess those business dealings were not as forthright as they should have been. Regardless, Hannah often accompanied her father to our home and I was responsible for her entertainment.”
“How did you know she was betrothed to Josh?”
“The day of our marriage, he spoke of it to Governor Hopkin.”
“Why say you she’s vicious?”
She took a deep breath. “I’ve both witnessed it and been the recipient of it. She’s deceitful, manipulative, self-centered, and cruel.”
His eyebrows shot up. “All that?”
“Well, according to my brother Foley, she also plays the part of the maiden quite well but is, in fact, without discretion.”
“He told you that?”
“Certainly not. He told my other brother and I was...I uh...overheard it.”
He shook his head. “Josh is usually very good at discerning a person’s character.”
“She’s a master at deception. It was quite some time before I realized her true nature as well.”
“Then it’s glad I am he’s rid of her.” After a moment, he rubbed his hand across his mouth. “About your father, Connie. Josh didn’t tell you everything. The earl not only wants you home, but he has--”
She held up her palm, stopping his flow of words. “I want to stay, Drew. It will be wonderful to see him this spring, but he’ll return home without me.”
“But, he--”
“Not another word. My mind’s made up.”
He appeared to think that over, then pulled away from the door. “Are you cold?”
She rubbed her arms. “Um. A little.”
He moved to stoke the fire, then indicated the bench with his hand.
“It will be a cold walk for them this night,” she said, settling her skirt about her.
Drew nodded but clearly his mind was elsewhere.
She tried again. “I wish I could see the new house. Now everyone but me will have seen it.”
He sat down beside her, took her hand in his, and rested them atop his thigh. “Not just yet. Though you’re well, I want you to stay that way so you can attend the Christmas service with me next week. The meetinghouse is quite a trek from here. I would that you were rested for it.”
“How far away is the meetinghouse?”
He pursed his lips. “If we walk at the rate of 4 miles an hour, we shall be 10 minutes late, but if we walk 5 miles an hour, we shall be 20 minutes too soon. Know you now how far it is from here?”
She arched a brow. “You thought that up ahead of time.”
“Maybe.”
Suppressing a smile, she cleared her throat. “I’ve a question for you too.”
He nodded once.
“I ask you, sir, to plant a grove, to show that I’m your lady love. This grove though small must be composed, of 25 trees in 12 straight rows. In each row 5 trees you must place, or you shall never see my face.”
His eyes flickered. “How long will it take you to solve my puzzle?”
“How long will it take you to solve mine?”
“I already have.”
She choked back a laugh. “You lie.”
“How long will it take you?” he asked.
“Fifteen minutes.”
His gaze caught and held hers. “Care to place a wager on it?” He skimmed a callused thumb across her knuckles. “And this time, there will be no bargaining over dishwashing.”
Her heart fluttered. “Then what will we wager upon?”
“A kiss. A kiss freely given.”
“And if I win?” she said, swallowing tightly.
“I’ll forfeit much, much more than just a kiss.”
She fingered the locket about her neck. “I’ll need my slate.”
He bent toward the fire, scooping up a handful of cold soot and spreading it out on the hearth. “Sketch away.”
For a space of several beats, she considered him, then found herself on her knees beside the pile of soot. She quickly scratched several numbers into it before glancing back over her shoulder. “Clock’s ticking. You’d better get over there with your own soot.”
Chuckling, he moved to the opposite end of the hearth. Twenty-five minutes later, she sat back. He was leaning against the hearth, one leg extended, one bent, his face propped atop his palm. He removed the pipe from his mouth. “About time.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
A slow smile stretched across his face.
“What’s your solution?” she asked.
“Come see.”
She rose to her knees, shuffling over to his drawing. He had indeed laid out a grove in which 25 finger indentions were placed in such a way that each row held 5 indentions for a total of 12 rows.
“What’s the answer to my puzzle?” he asked.
She sat back on her heels. “Church is a six-mile walk from here.”
He smiled. It was a two-dimple smile. “Wrong. You lose.”
“How so?”
He smoothed the soot beside him, effectively erasing his grove, then scribbled numbers into the ashes. “At 4 miles per hour, you can go 1 mile in 15 minutes. At 5 miles per hour, you can go 1 mile in 12 minutes. In going one mile, there is a difference of 3 minutes, but the actual difference is 10 minutes plus 5 minutes, which equals 15 minutes. Divide 15 minutes by 3 minutes and you get 5. Church is a 5 mile walk from here, not 6.”
She studied his figures. Oh no. How could she have miscalculated something so elementary?
“What formula did you use to come up with 6 miles?” he asked.
Her eyes drifted closed. “The wrong one.”
He brought his hands together with a clap, a tiny cloud of soot tickling her nose.
She opened her eyes, but he’d already moved to resettle himself upon the bench. Spreading his knees, he rubbed his thighs. “I’m ready for my forfeit.”
Heat stole into her face. Looking one more time at his figures, she pulled her trapped skirt from beneath her knees, then slowly stood.
His gaze roved boldly over her. A flash of self-consciousness threatened her resolve before she reined it in. Gliding toward him, she moved between his knees, stopping just short of touching him. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered.
He immediately acquiesced. She pecked him on the nose, then whirled, darting back to the fireplace, but not before he snagged a portion of her skirt.
“I don’t think so.” His voice had dropped two octaves.
She looked behind her, watching in surprise as he wrapped her skirt about his fist, effectively reeling her in. “I gave you the forfeit! One kiss. Freely given.”
“That was not a kiss and well you know it.”
“It most certainly was. That you neglected to specify where and how the kiss was to be administered is no fault of mine.”
He had her between his knees now and gave a quick jerk, causing her to drop onto one of his legs. He touched a finger to his lips. “Right here, Connie. I’ll have one right here.”
She bit the insides of her cheeks. “Really? Or else...”
A glint of mischief entered his eyes. “I dare not threaten to make you sit here all night until you do so, or you might very well take me up on it.”
A giggle worked its way up, then she sighed with an exaggerated sense of resignation, wrapped her arms about his neck, and pressed her lips to his. That was the last bit of control she exerted over the kiss, for he immediately took charge. All thoughts of forfeits and challenges fled from her mind. She parted her lips as he deepened the kiss.
Shifting, she sought to slow the pace a bit. He pulled her closer, but the bench made his movements awkward, threatening to unseat them at every turn.
Tearing his mouth from hers, their eyes met, a flurry of butterflies brandishing their wings within her tummy.
“Are you frightened?” he asked.
She swallowed. “I didn’t think I would be. I thought I’d be...oh, I know not. The only word I can think of is, well, anxious.”
He became very still. “Anxious as in impatient?”
Heat flooded her face.
He squeezed her waist. “It’s not a shameful thing to be feeling, not for your husband.”
“How do you know?”
“I looked it up in the Bible.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t!”
“I did. And it’s very biblical to be wanting your mate. As a matter of fact, it says to rejoice in the sharing of your flesh--to relish it, even.”
She smiled behind her hand. “It does not.”
“It does too. Proverbs 5:18.”
Laughter bubbled up from her throat. She knew perfectly well it said no such thing, but she’d never expected him to soothe her in such an outrageous way.
