Her brows rose as she gasped her protest. “I can’t take a bath at high noon, right here in the kitchen.”
She’d bathed at night, carefully covering the windows with quilts beforehand, waiting until the men were gone to town on a Saturday night and Tanner was busy in the barn. To do such a thing in the middle of the day was unheard of.
“I’ll carry the tub to your room,” he offered. “No, I’ll carry it to my room. Anna can move her things upstairs right away. Not that she’s got much. Nothin’ but a flour sack full.”
“Where is she?” Rosemary’s eyes scanned the porch and beyond, bending to see out the window.
“Cotton’s unloadin’ them now. They’ll be up from the barn in a minute. I wanted to talk to you first.”
She brushed past him, pushing the screen door open and hurrying out to the porch. “Scat?” Her voice carried across the wide yard and from the barn door, a whistle answered her.
“Scat?” Her feet barely touched the steps as she left the porch, her heart pumping as she searched for him.
He appeared in the barn door. From behind him, a child peered wonderingly at her surroundings. Much smaller than Scat, Anna was able to hide in his shadow. Her brother spoke to her, words Rosemary could not understand from this distance, and then they moved together toward the house.
Anna grasped her brother’s hand, as if it were a lifeline and she must keep hold at all costs. Her hair was disheveled, her clothing wrinkled.
They drew nearer, and Rosemary inhaled sharply. She’d seen bruises on Scat’s face before, but now they were fresh, dried blood still staining his cheek, probably from a nosebleed. He peered at her from one eye, and the other still bore swelling and yellow bruises from the last assault. Nate Pender must have abused the boy on a daily basis during the past week.
“Come in,” Rosemary said, holding the screen door open. Anna hesitated, but Scat tugged at her.
“It’s all right, Babe. Miss Rosemary’s a friend.”
It was more than she could tolerate—to see such a frail, tiny child with no more evidence of loving care lavished upon her small body than did this girl. Rosemary fell to her knees and held her arms out beseechingly.
“Please, Anna. Won’t you let me hug you?”
Anna’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked around the room. Tanner had assumed a position near the window. Mama Pearl stood in the doorway beyond the table, a formidable foe should the occasion warrant. And perhaps to the child, Rosemary represented the lesser of several evils.
For whatever reason, she stepped forward, allowing herself to be touched, first by Rosemary’s hands grasping hers. With care, Rosemary drew her closer, until Anna was within the circle of her arms. She held her gently, carefully, as if she were a doll made of fine porcelain, dressed in silk and lace. One hand slid to cup the tiny chin and Rosemary lifted Anna’s head until their eyes could meet.
Aware that she was being judged, that the child held her verdict in abeyance, Rosemary waited patiently. The round, dark eyes rested on Rosemary’s hair, and one small hand lifted to touch a wispy wave that dipped low against her cheek. The child sucked in a deep breath and spoke words that came nigh unto breaking the woman’s heart.
“Can you make me smell like you? You must be made outta flowers.”
“Mr. Tanner is about to fill a bathtub right now,” Rosemary said softly. “He must have known you would be needing to wash up a little.”
Scat carried two flour sacks, one not nearly as full as the other, and he designated the smaller one with a nod. “This here’s her stuff, Miss Rosemary. The dress is her good one, and I just scrubbed it out in cold water. Pa didn’t want to waste good money on soap.”
“We’ll figure something out, Scat,” she told him, reaching one hand to touch his fingers. “I’m sure you did the best you could for your sister.”
His grin was shy, and even through the bruised lid, she noted a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll bet you can do better, ma’am.”
Tanner cleared his throat and Rosemary met his gaze.
Sure enough, he’d turned into a mind reader in the last few minutes, he decided. Those big blue eyes of hers were filled with the thanks she dared not speak aloud.
“How ’bout if you take that child upstairs, and I’ll bring the first bucket of water?” he asked, answering Rosemary’s unspoken words with a smile.
“I’ll carry up my small washpan full,” Mama Pearl volunteered. “Won’t take much more than that for a first good wash anyway.”
Half an hour later, Rosemary found herself in agreement with Mama Pearl’s plan. She’d scrubbed Anna’s hair and lathered her from top to bottom, then rinsed her in clean water. Another double load of water from the reservoir provided a set down bath, as Mama Pearl said. Anna had lolled back in the tub, moving her body in luxuriant pleasure as the warm water did its job.
The largest towel Rosemary could find among Tanner’s supply wrapped the child from stem to stern, another draped over her head. She sat atop the washstand as Rosemary dried the long, tangled locks, which had turned from muddy-brown to honey-gold once the layers of dirt had been dislodged from place.
“I never had so nice a bath,” Anna said, as if she confided a secret to Rosemary’s hearing. “I always had to wash in a bitty little pan at home.” She held out her hand, allowing the towel to fall from her shoulder, and admired the cleanliness of her palm.
“My hands look better this way, don’t they?”
From the doorway, Tanner watched, as he had done for the past few moments. This glimpse of Rosemary was a new vision, one he enjoyed almost as much as that of two days past, when he had kissed her in the parlor. When he had tempted himself with her nearness and almost gone beyond the edge of decency.
“You look beautiful, punkin,” he said quietly, smiling as two feminine faces turned his way.
“She has beautiful hair, Tanner,” Rosemary told him, lifting a tress she had been drying.
“I see,” he said. And he did. For the first time, he looked beyond the prim preacher’s daughter he’d brought to his home, beyond the small, spunky woman she’d revealed herself to be. Saw past even the passionate woman she showed promise of becoming, into the loving creature who would tend his own children with the same care she offered this tiny mite.
Rosemary Gibson had somehow gained entry to the most private place within him, which had for years repelled advances from any direction. His need for her raged. That had not changed, only been held in check until his ring circled her finger. But beyond the passion that drew him into her orbit, he saw a loving, generous woman who would accept him as a flawed male creature, and whose tenderness could perhaps heal his soul.
“Tanner?” Rosemary watched him, her brow lifted. “Did you hear me?”
He shook his head. “I was thinking, honey.”
“You need to close the door, so we can get Anna dressed.”
He nodded, willing to be apart from these females for a time. There was a boy to look after, and he suspected it would be his duty to do just that thing.
It was not to be. The yard rang with laughter as Tanner left the porch. The horse tank held a frolicking boy, Scat ducking beneath the water, still clothed but considerably cleaner. Cotton stood several feet away, his own clothing liberally doused with water.
“Thought we’d just get him cleaned up by layers, boss,” Cotton offered. “He says his other set of clothes needs washing, so we stuck them in the water, too.”
“I never ever hardly been wet all over before,” Scat said with a grin. “Only a couple of times when my pa was drunk and I went down to the creek after dark. That wasn’t near so much fun as this.”
“Well, now we need to figure out how to get him dried out,” Tanner said, unable to hide the satisfaction he felt at the boy’s pleasure.
“Aw, an hour helpin’ out with the new colts oughta take care of that, Tanner. The sun’s hotter’n hades, and he’d dry right quick.”
“All right. Just get him som
ething to eat. He can have a plate on the porch. I think I picked him up before breakfast.”
Scat’s mouth turned down. “That’s all right. I don’t generally eat much in the morning anyway, Mr. Tanner.”
“Tanner’ll do, son. And from now on, you’ll eat breakfast every day. It’s a rule here.”
“Yessir, that’s fine,” Scat was quick to reply. “I like eatin’ real well.”
Just probably never found much to call a meal, Tanner decided, noting the slim frame as Scat stood up and began climbing from the horse tank. His feet were callused and tan. Apparently shoes were not included in his sparse wardrobe. He’d take care of that problem tomorrow, Tanner decided. Along with some new shirts and pants and something to put on the delicate little girl inside his house.
“Sir?”
Tanner turned back at the boy’s beckoning.
“Is Anna all right? I mean, I don’t want her to be worried that I’m not there with her.”
Tanner shook his head. “She’s in good hands, Scat. Miss Rosemary has her. They’re fixin’ her hair, I think.”
Scat brightened. “She’ll like that. I found a comb one time and I run it through ever once in a while, and get the tangles out for her.”
The laughter coming from his kitchen was more melodious, but reminiscent of that in the yard, Tanner thought as he stepped up on the porch. Through the screen, he watched as Rosemary held Anna on her lap, waiting quietly as the child ate her way through a plate of food.
She wore another dress, much like the first, faded and wrinkled, but with an air of semicleanliness about it. Her laughter was soft, not nearly so exuberant as that of the two women who watched her, and he listened with a depth of satisfaction he had not thought to feel.
Taking these children had fulfilled a need. That of righting a wrong. His own father had neglected him in many ways, but always there had been food to eat and clothing to wear.
Nate Pender had given his children nothing but a roof over their heads, and that probably was flawed, if the dampness within that shack was anything to go by. Where Scat managed to find the clothing the two of them wore was a question Tanner steered clear of.
Perhaps his gratification stemmed from the look in Scat’s eye as he’d welcomed Tanner into the shack this morning. For the unspoken thanksgiving he’d felt radiating from the boy as he and his sister found a spot on the wagon bed, where hay had been spread for their comfort.
“I’m taking you home with me, Scat,” Tanner had said, offering no choice to the child.
And without hesitation, that dark head had nodded. “Yessir, that’s fine.”
Now, as he reflected on his wealth of emotions, Tanner considered the task well-done. That Rosemary would fulfill her part of this bargain was a known factor. She would stand before James Worth and speak the vows today, before the sun set.
She would climb into his bed and give herself into his keeping, of that he had no doubt. And at that thought, he found a persistent throbbing coming to life once more.
“Tanner? Is Scat coming in to eat?” Rosemary asked from inside the kitchen.
“Fix him a plate. He’ll eat on the porch.” He turned his back on the open door, aware that the gruffness of his tone left silence in its wake.
He’d explain later. Maybe.
Chapter Ten
A full pail of warm water waited by the washstand, and a bar of French-milled soap had been placed by the china basin, ready for her use. Rosemary picked it up, lifting it to her nose as she sniffed at the delicate fragrance.
Lilac, she decided, and thought of the child who was even now sleeping in the next room. Who had wanted to smell like flowers. She’d accomplished that aim, and if Rosemary had done nothing else in her lifetime, she’d granted that desire.
Her golden hair gleaming, her clean face aglow, Anna had presented herself to Scat at the supper table. He’d allowed her to preen, burying his nose in her hair as she asked, complimented her lavishly, and then offered his thanks to Rosemary with halting words that brought tears to her eyes.
All this because of Tanner. Rosemary unwrapped the bar of soap slowly. He’d purchased the soap for her, probably on a whim. For those few short moments when he’d left her on the buggy seat, to pick up supplies, he’d said. Then, with only a small parcel in his hand, he had returned to her.
The ceremony had been short, with Pip leaving the store only long enough to arrive breathlessly at the parsonage for the few brief moments it took to turn Rosemary Gibson into Gabe Tanner’s wife. The goodbyes were a flurry of wishes, waving hands and curious eyes upon them as the buggy traveled at a smart pace down the street.
Rosemary lathered a cloth with the fragrant soap and drew it over her face and neck, then down her arms and beneath them. Dressed only in her chemise, she felt pressed for time. Tanner had headed for the barn to tend last-minute chores, he’d said.
It was Rosemary’s opinion that he’d simply offered her a few moments alone to prepare for her wedding night. It would take far longer than the time allotted her, she feared. In her whole experience of living, nothing she’d ever heard about or known about firsthand had prepared her for this.
Mama Pearl had patted her reassuringly just moments ago. “Tanner’ll be good to you, girl. You just watch and see. He took a real shine to you right off, and his eyes light up just like Christmas candles when you come in sight.”
She rinsed the soap from her skin and dried the dampness with the soft towel Mama Pearl had left for her. There hadn’t been much in those few words the woman had said that would settle the questions befuddling her mind.
She looked into the mirror, scanning the image she presented. Tanner liked her hair, he’d already told her that. His hand had been on her bosom, and his gaze had touched her there with approval. She watched as a rosy hue traveled from that forbidden area to color her cheeks. She’d lived with her body for almost thirty years, and only now had it become so important.
From below, she heard voices, faint, yet unmistakable, as Tanner and Mama Pearl spoke in the kitchen. Then there were footsteps on the uncarpeted stairs, and Rosemary broke from her stance before the mirror to snatch her nightgown from the bed. She was sliding it over her head when the doorknob turned, shoving her arms into the sleeves as Tanner entered the room.
He halted inside the doorway, watching her, his gaze intent on her trembling fingers as she worked at the buttons. Then he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Her fingers had never taken so long to perform such a mundane task. She fumbled with the final small mother-of-pearl button, and only then realized that her chemise was still in place beneath the cotton gown.
Tanner’s mouth twitched and his smile appeared, tender and perhaps apologetic, she thought.
“I should have given you a few more minutes, I guess. I didn’t mean to make you hurry.”
“That’s all right. I was done washing up.” She nodded at the washstand. “Thank you for the soap. Lilac is one of my favorite scents.”
“I like apple blossom, too,” he said, approaching her slowly. “I just thought you might like to try something different.” His hand rose to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, and then he scooped the heavy length from the back of her gown, where the fabric had captured it.
He tangled his fingers in it. “I haven’t seen it down, hangin’ loose, since that first day.” Both hands were buried now in the heavy tresses that cascaded almost to her waist. He held up double handfuls, allowing it to flow through outspread fingers. “It’s prettier than I remembered, Rosie.”
She grimaced at the name he’d taunted her with one other time. “You’re teasing me again, Tanner.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re like a rose in bloom, honey. Still just beginning to blossom.”
Her laughter trembled in the words she spoke. “You sound like a poet.”
“You make me wish…I just don’t have enough of the right words to say to you, honey. Guess I’ll have to just show you how I feel.”
He looked around the room and grinned. “Mama Pearl wanted to make sure I found you all right, didn’t she?” Candles glowed from the dresser, the washstand and the table beside the bed. It was a shameful waste, she supposed, but Mama Pearl had insisted, taking the lamp with her as she left the room.
Now she considered the task of snuffing them out. Maybe she’d better wait until Tanner undressed. That thought was not comforting, she decided, bending to blow out the nearest flickering flame, on the table beside her.
“I’ll get the rest,” Tanner said. “Go on, get in bed.”
She risked a glance in his direction, then turned back the covers, slipping between fragrant sheets. The window drew her eye and she watched as a cloud made its way across the face of the moon.
Tanner moved softly for such a big man, blowing out the remaining candles, then crossing to the bed. His clothing rustled loudly in the silence, and she heard the faint puff of his breath as he tugged at his boots. His weight depressed the mattress, and she turned her head as he slid in beside her.
The moon was almost as revealing as had been the candle glow, and she wished for a moment for the return of the cloud. Maybe even a whole skyful of them.
“You’re worried about this, aren’t you?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper.
“I don’t know what to do.” The admission came hard.
Tanner rolled to his side, rising on his elbow. “You don’t have to do anything, honey. At least, nothing you don’t want to do.”
“I’m not sure how I got here,” she whispered. “I mean, I know how, I just don’t know…”
“Shh…” he said, touching her lips with his index finger. “It’s all right.” He leaned over her, moving that finger to trace the curl of her ear, brushing her hair behind it, the better to free it to his touch.
“I want to kiss you. That all right with you?” As if he awaited her permission, he hovered over her, his face in shadow.
She nodded, barely completing the gesture before his mouth touched hers, a tender, careful movement of his lips that promised pleasure. Her breath caught as his mouth opened a bit and his teeth touched, then closed gently over her bottom lip, worrying it, then releasing it with a flick of his tongue.
The Bachelor Tax Page 12
