Lessons of the Heart

by HELEN HARDT

  Especially not this woman. He wanted her with a passion he hadn’t felt in years, maybe not ever. He wanted the first time with Ruth to be perfect, which included him being freshly bathed and thoroughly awake and involved.

  He forced himself not to walk toward her. Didn’t even reach out. “Ruth. Forgive me.”

  Her lips trembled, but she nodded, her gaze arrowed to the plank floor.

  “I’d never hurt you. I swear it.”

  She nodded again.

  This time he took a few steps, until he was close enough to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. Tears misted in her eyes.

  Damn.

  “Don’t cry, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  She sniffed. “You didn’t hurt me.”

  “Thank God.” He leaned in to kiss her lips, but the look of pure horror in her midnight eyes stopped him. Damnation, what had he done? What could he do to make this up to her?

  He backed off and turned the crystal door knob. “Come on.” He led her to the bed where Mary Alice slept. “Bedtime.” He helped her lie down next to his daughter who still slept soundly. He covered her with the bedding and bent to give her a chaste kiss on her tear-stained cheek. He strode to the other side of the bed, kissed his daughter, and then returned to the adjoining room and closed the door.

  He stripped off his soiled clothing and lay down on the bed stark naked, his erection still throbbing. Too exhausted even to sate himself, he closed his eyes and fell into slumber.

  * * *

  Ruth opened her eyes to the first rays of sunrise. She sat up in bed and stretched. Mary Alice still slept soundly beside her. She nudged the little girl. “Mary Alice, it’s morning. Time to get up.”

  The child let out a low snore and turned over. No matter. She could sleep a while longer.

  Ruth’s body tingled, still hyper aware from Garth’s touch. She wiped the image from her mind and left the bed. After tidying the room a bit, she donned her dress and sat in front of the looking glass. She had no comb and brush, and her hair was a disheveled mess. She sighed. Oh, well, nothing to be done. She finger-combed it and plaited it in a loose braid.

  She left the room quietly so as not to disturb Mary Alice. After a quick trip to the water closet, she walked downstairs to order some breakfast.

  Back in the room, Mary Alice still hadn’t stirred. The adjoining door drew Ruth’s gaze. Garth was behind that door, most likely still sleeping, his masculine body sprawled upon the bed.

  She shook her head to clear it. Such thoughts had no place. She’d decided long ago not to marry for any reason other than love, and when no men had come courting, she’d resigned herself to spinsterhood. Now, suddenly, two men wanted her. One wanted to court her respectfully because the time had come for him to marry. Yes, he admired her intelligence. That much was clear, and she should be thankful. But he also wanted to breed size into his line. And size she had in abundance. She’d bear him strong, intelligent, tall sons.

  The other cared nothing for her intelligence, at least as far as she knew. And he certainly didn’t need her to bear him strong sons. Garth Mackenzie’s seed could no doubt produce a strapping lad from the most frail and petite woman on earth.

  No, he merely wanted to bed her. She still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the concept. The most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on wanted her in his bed. Plain Ruth Blackburn. Average. A C.

  And he was willing to marry her to have her.

  After twenty-two loveless years, she faced two offers of marriage.

  One fairly honorable, at the same time a bit insulting. One not honorable at all, though the thought of occupying Garth Mackenzie’s bed had its own allure.

  One man offered her a life of intellectual stimulation. The other probably didn’t even own a book, but he made her heart go pitter-pat and his kisses seared her soul.

  Neither had offered her love.

  She’d waited twenty-two years for a proposal of marriage. Was it time to give up on love?

  The soft rapping on the door brought her dueling wits to an end, thank goodness. Too much to think about.

  She opened the door, and a maid brought in a tray and set it on the little table next to the bureau.

  “Breakfast, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” Ruth gave the woman a coin from her reticule, and then went to wake Mary Alice.

  The little girl opened her eyes. “Pa?” she asked timidly.

  “He’s fine, sweetie. He’s asleep in the next room, so we must be quiet so we don’t wake him. He’s had a rough night. But he saved the farm.”

  Mary Alice’s lips curved into a sad smile. She didn’t move.

  “Aren’t you going to get up? Breakfast is here, and you didn’t eat much last night. You need a good meal.”

  “No. I don’t want any, thank you. I’m…not feeling well.”

  Ruth touched her lips to the girl’s forehead. She was cool to the touch.

  “You don’t seem to be feverish. Are you nauseated?”

  “A little. My tummy hurts.”

  “You’re probably just hungry, dear. You haven’t been eating well.” Ruth uncovered her gently. “Getting out of bed will make you feel better. I promise. Come on, now.”

  “No, I can’t, Miss Blackburn. I don’t want to get up. It hurts to get up. I just want to sleep today. Please.”

  Ruth’s neck prickled. Something wasn’t right. “I’ll get your pa, Mary Alice.”

  “You don’t have to wake him.”

  “If you’re ill, I certainly do have to wake him. I’ll be right back.”

  Ruth strode toward the adjoining door, opened it, and whisked into the other room. Land sakes. Rays of sunshine streamed through the open curtains and illuminated the strong muscular contours of Garth Mackenzie’s naked body.

  Golden and perfect, he lay across the bed, his arms hugging the white pillow and his blond locks splayed across the cotton sheeting. Pure masculinity. Thankfully, he was on his side, his legs tangled around the sheets, hiding his male member. Her gaze dropped to his taut buttocks, and then to his powerful legs dusted with golden hair.

  But now wasn’t the time to ogle his perfection. No. Mary Alice needed her pa.

  She walked to the side of the bed and clamped her hand on his sleek shoulder. Like solid marble, only hot instead of cool to the touch. Not the time. “Garth!” Her whisper was urgent.

  No response.

  She shook his shoulder gently, and then not so gently. “Garth, wake up! I need you!”

  His bronze eyes opened, and he jerked. “Ruthie? You all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. But Mary Alice is ill. Please come quickly.” She turned toward the door. “And for goodness’ sake put your drawers on!”

  * * *

  Garth stood in the corner of the room as Doc Potter and Ruth tended Mary Alice. What in tarnation was wrong with his child? He couldn’t lose her. Just couldn’t. How would he ever cope?

  “Everything’s normal,” Doc said. “She’s just fine. She’ll be up and around in a few days.”

  “For God’s sake,” Garth said, “she’s not in perfect health, or she’d be out of bed eating her breakfast.”

  Doc cleared his throat. “I assure you she’s fine, Mr. Mackenzie, she’s just a little under the weather from…” The doc’s neck turned scarlet.

  Garth fisted his hands at his side. “What in the hell are you tryin’ to say?”

  “She’s starting her courses, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  “Courses?”

  “Yes, her womanly time.”

  “Confound it, I know what courses are. But she’s only eleven.”

  “I’m twelve next month, Pa,” Mary Alice said, her voice but a whisper. Her pale face had turned a rosy red.

  “She’s not too young. Do you know when her mother started?”

  “Why in hell would I know that?” Damnation, he and Lizzie hadn’t discussed such things. How was he supposed to deal with this? Courses, for God’s sake.

  “There’
s only a little blood right now,” Doc continued, “which is why she didn’t notice it herself yet. But it explains her swoons during the last few days. She’s fatigued. She’s cramping a little bit. When girls start young, it’s harder on their bodies. But I assure you, it’s completely normal and she’ll be just fine.”

  “How long will it last?”

  “Now that the bleeding has started, about five days. But the cramping and weakness sometimes begin several days before the bleeding. She’ll probably grow out of that, but expect it for the next year or so.”

  “Oh, for corn’s sake.” Garth plunked down in a wooden chair, jarring his already aching body. “How often does it happen?”

  Ruth stood from where she sat on the edge of the bed, her ruby lips pursed in a line. Now what had he done to piss her off?

  “Mr. Mackenzie, may I speak to you in the other room?”

  “No, you may speak right here in front of the doctor, Ruth. What is it?”

  She stomped her foot, and her midnight eyes flashed. “In the other room,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Fine, fine.” He followed her through the adjoining door. “What, Ruthie?”

  “I know you don’t mean any harm, but you need to stop interrogating the doc. This is a traumatic time for a young girl, and she doesn’t have her mother here to help her through it. You’re embarrassing Mary Alice.”

  “Why should she be embarrassed?”

  “Listen to yourself, Garth. Of course she’s embarrassed! This isn’t something a young girl discusses with her father, or with any man. Did your wife ever discuss it with you?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Of course she didn’t. I never discussed it with my pa, either. To answer your question, it happens once a month, so get used to it.”

  “Ruth, I—”

  “Now let’s get back in there, and—”

  “Damn it, woman, can I get one word in here?”

  She huffed. “What?”

  “I know how often it happens. I was married, remember? What I meant was, how often does the swooning happen?”

  “Oh.” Her pretty cheeks turned pink.

  Well, that would teach her to run off at the mouth.

  “You’ll have to ask Doc,” she said. “I’ve never swooned before.”

  His groin jumped. God, she was pretty, all red and embarrassed. Damn, he wanted to make her swoon. Wanted to kiss those red lips until they both fell down panting. But not with Doc and Mary Alice in the next room.

  “Ruthie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Would you talk to her for me? She might be more comfortable talking to a lady about…these things.”

  She smiled, lighting those gorgeous eyes. When had these britches become so darn tight?

  “Of course I’ll talk to her. I’d be happy to. You know I’ll help with Mary Alice in any way I can. I adore that child. Now get in there. She needs to know she’s the same little girl to you that she was yesterday.”

  “Well, of course she is. Why would she be any different?”

  She stomped her foot again and her smile faded. “You exasperate me, Garth Mackenzie.”

  He sighed. “What have I done now?”

  “Mary Alice is different. She feels different. So assure her you love her as you always have, and all will be fine.”

  “Of course I love her. She knows that.”

  “Go tell her then.”

  “That I love her?”

  “Yes, that you love her. What do you think we’ve been talking about?” She balled her hands into fists and pounded his chest.

  Just her touch nearly sent him over the edge. He held himself in check and followed her back to the other room where Doc was closing his black bag.

  “I trust everything is in order?” Doc said.

  “Yes, Doc,” Ruth said. “I just explained a few things to Mr. Mackenzie.”

  “Mmm. Good. Will I see you later, Ruth?”

  Her cheeks reddened. Lord, she was lovely. Garth never tired of looking at her.

  “You may call any time, of course,” she said.

  Call any time? What the hell? A railroad spike hit him low in the gut.

  Doc grabbed his bag and smiled at Ruth. “I’ll do that. Thank you, Ruth.” He shut the door behind him.

  Garth opened his mouth to ask what in tarnation Doc was talking about, but Ruth spoke first.

  “I’m going downstairs for a few minutes. Mr. Mackenzie, I believe you need to talk to Mary Alice.”

  “Ruth, I—”

  “I’ll be downstairs, sir, sitting in the parlor.” Her smile lit her face, and she touched a lock of his hair that had fallen across his forehead. “You’ll be fine.”

  She was gone.

  Garth turned toward the bed. His little girl sat up, her back upright against the oak headboard, her face back to its pasty paleness. What could he say? He wasn’t her mother, for God’s sake.

  “Are you feelin’ better, child?”

  “A little, Pa.”

  “Some water, maybe? Breakfast?”

  “A cup of water would be nice. I’m not hungry for breakfast.”

  Garth fetched a cup of water from the basin and handed it to her. She took a few swallows and handed it back. He set it on the night table.

  Now what?

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve asked… That is, I’ve asked Miss Blackburn to talk to you about this new…uh…condition. She’ll be able to help you more than I can.”

  She nodded.

  “We’ll…have her out to supper tomorrow evenin’. Does that sound good to you?”

  “Yes, sir. I like Miss Blackburn. I’m happy to have her visit anytime.”

  “Yes. I…” He wanted to say he liked Miss Blackburn, too. That he’d thought of nothing but the pretty schoolteacher since he’d first laid eyes on her. But that wasn’t for his daughter’s ears.

  Ruth had told him to tell Mary Alice he loved her. Of course he loved her. She was his child. He opened his mouth to say as much, but the words caught in the back of his throat.

  Why couldn’t he bring himself to utter those damned words? He’d never said them. Not since the war. Never to Lizzie. Never to his children.

  He inhaled, held his breath for a few seconds, and opened his mouth to try again.

  “Mary Alice, I…”

  “Yes, Pa?”

  “I…” Damnation. “I…hope you’ll be feelin’ better tomorrow so you can make a nice meal for Miss Blackburn’s visit.”

  “She taught me to make her chicken pie. I think I can do it, Pa, if you’ll dress me the chicken.”

  He nodded. “I can do that.” He stood and looked around the sparse room. “If you’re feelin’ up to it, get up and get dressed now. We need to be gettin’ home. I got lots to do around the farm. The animals need tendin’, and there’s clean up from the fire. Let’s make haste.”

  Chapter Nine

  Ruth normally enjoyed walking the homestead in late spring. The floral aroma of the wildflowers, the sweet scent of new grass, downy baby jackrabbits hopping about after their mothers—she loved the prairie. Always had.

  But walking with Doc Potter felt all wrong. Ruth would rather be sitting down, where their height difference wasn’t so blatantly obvious to the entire free world. He’d come calling this evening. Land alive, she’d told him he could. This morning, right in front of Garth Mackenzie. She had no one but herself to blame.

  After a short visit in the front room with her parents, he’d suggested a walk, and she hadn’t been able to come up with a reason to decline, especially not with her ma and pa scrutinizing her every move.

  “May I take your hand, Ruth?”

  An honorable request, one she should grant to a suitor. He didn’t pull her into his embrace like Garth Mackenzie had. But should she encourage his suit when her heart lay elsewhere?

  Goodness. Her heart did indeed lie elsewhere. She wasn’t merely enamored with Garth Mackenzie’s kisses. She was in love with the man.
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  Completely in heart-wrenching love with a man who’d offered her his body, his name, but not his heart.

  How in the world had this happened? She barely knew him. Hadn’t even liked him at first. Still thought he was gruff, callous, and didn’t treat his daughter properly. His touch set her afire, that much was true. But then the wild flames had nearly torched his farm, nearly torched him, and Ruth hadn’t been able to rest until she knew he was safe. She’d told herself it was Mary Alice who concerned her, not the child’s father. But here it was, plain as day, as though she’d known it the first time she gazed into his troubled bronze eyes.

  She loved him.

  Could she marry him? Her heart would break a little each day knowing he didn’t return her feelings.

  She couldn’t marry Doc, though. That much was clear. Such a commitment wouldn’t be fair to either of them. She was in love with another.

  “I’m sorry, Doc.”

  “For what? That I asked to hold your hand?”

  “No, not that. But no, I…I don’t think you should hold my hand.”

  “I understand. We don’t know each other that well yet, and—”

  She touched her finger to his lips. An intimate gesture to be sure, but she had to stop him.

  “What in the name of God are you doing, Ruth Blackburn?”

  She and Doc turned toward the deep timbre. Garth. She gasped and dropped her hand to her side.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “Your pa’s. I came to see you. He said you were out walking.”

  “I assume he told you with whom?”

  “No, he did not.”

  Doc cleared his throat and looked at his boots. “Mr. Mackenzie, how is your daughter?”

  “Fine. Just fine, thank you. What are you doing out here with Ruth?”

  “Mr. Mackenzie,” Ruth said, “I fail to see how that is any business of yours.”

  Doc looked up, his diminutive stature apparent in the shadow of such a magnificent creature as Garth Mackenzie. “We’re on a walk. I am courting Miss Blackburn.”