by Jillian Hart
“He didn’t say.” Mrs. Miller straightened her full-length calico apron before retreating into the hall. “I expect Mr. Hennessey will be here before long. He lives just south of town. Such a fine man. He sure was concerned about you, dear. At least you have a little color in your cheeks.”
Katelyn thanked the innkeeper and, as soon as she was alone, her thoughts returned to Hennessey. She’d dreamed of him that night. Of being enfolded in his arms, snug against his chest and breathing in his night and winter scent.
When she’d awakened alone in her room in the lonely dark before dawn, her first thought was of him. As every thought had been since.
Was that him? She could feel his nearness like a change in the air. Or, maybe, the change was within her. She was not surprised when she heard the first strike of his boot down the hall. It was his unhurried gait in the corridor. It was his rapid-fire knock on her door.
“Come in.” The words felt trapped in her throat, but he must have heard her.
The door creaked open and there he was, his face as expressionless as stone, his silence as impressive as a snowcapped mountain. “How are you feeling this fine day?”
“Better. Stronger.” She drew the afghan around her lap. Even though she was dressed, she felt exposed. “Would you like some tea?”
“No. Here, let me.” His broad hand closed over the dainty china pot, dwarfing it as he poured a cup. The delicate handle was too small for his fingers, and he looked awkward as he handed her the brimming cup. “Anything else I can get you?”
“I’m fine.” She bit her lip. He was doing it again. Being overly accommodating.
“Do you want breakfast? I can head downstairs and dish you up a plate from the kitchen. Or do you want pastry? I could run over to the bakery. Pick you up some of those fancy treats they have.”
“No, thank you.” She sipped delicately, her fingers dainty on the tiny handle, and set the cup on the table with a clink. So perfect and proper.
While he was an inept suitor. He felt big and awkward and stupid. There was one silver lining in all this heartache, for if Katelyn rejected him this time, then he would never need to court another woman again.
It was tough enough to make a real man cry.
All right, ask her again, Hennessey. Try not to look like a fool. Just set out her choices and let her decide. It was as simple as that.
Not so simple. She was radiant this morning. The rest had helped, and surely, so had escaping the tension and worry she felt in her stepfather’s house. Her skin was creamy, no longer ashen. The circles beneath her eyes were fading.
She was luminous, like a bright star shining in a perfect night sky. His angel. No, she was more than an angel. She was a seraphim, the highest order of angels, who stood closest to God.
When she spoke, her soft resonant alto could have belonged in paradise. “I’ve been enjoying the book.”
The book? He blinked, and suddenly his mind started functioning again. She was talking about the Dickens novel he’d bought her. Why wasn’t she wearing one of the dresses he’d bought her? He glanced around the small room and it was easy to see why. He didn’t need to ask. The presents were still wrapped in brown paper. “You didn’t open them.”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate them.”
Did she have to be so good? Kind? Dillon would bet there wasn’t a cherub in heaven that could reject a man more gently. “I had to try to win your fancy. It isn’t often a woman like you comes into a man’s life. Especially a man like me.”
“Like you?”
Was she going to make him say it? “I’m a common man. I work with my hands and my back and my heart. I don’t wear ties and I don’t spend my day in a building being polite and proper. I’m not the kind of man you probably want for a husband, but I’m stubborn and I’m persistent. That’s what makes me good at what I do. So here.”
He didn’t look at her as he opened his billfold and dropped one greenback after another on the small table in front of her, next to the teapot.
“Don’t worry about the hotel or the doctor bill. I’ll take care of them.” He dropped the last greenback in his wallet on the small stack and folded the leather with pronounced concentration. “This ought to get you anywhere you need to go. And this-”
He reached into his shirt pocket and laid a slim gold band with a single square-cut diamond on top of the money. “This is my way of asking you to choose.”
“Choose? Between marrying you or accepting your money?”
“No, between leaving and going where you want or accepting me. Heaven knows I want to marry you. I’ll do my best by you. I’ve already told you that. But I don’t want you to marry me because you have no other choice. I won’t be someone you settle for. If you marry me, know that I’m the best husband you are ever going to get. And if not, then good luck and goodbye, Katelyn Green. The best to you.”
He nodded in her direction, his movements quick and jerky, his hard body as tense as steel as he marched to the door and out of her life.
Five hundred-dollar bills stared up at her, creased in thirds from his worn leather wallet. That was a small fortune for a workingman. More than a year’s wages.
She was nearly penniless. He could have pressured her. He could have used her situation to persuade her to marry him. And he hadn’t.
“Wait! Dillon, please, don’t go.”
He stopped in the hallway. Splayed a sun-browned hand on the door frame. In his eyes she saw pain.
“You could live a long time on five hundred dollars, if you were careful.” He winced, and pain shot across his face before his eyes shuttered completely, hiding all his light. “I suppose that isn’t a lot of money to you.”
“It will see me a long way. It’s just what I need to start a new life. I was going to take the teacher’s examinations come spring and see if I could get a school.”
“You’d make a fine teacher.”
How dark he looked.
How intimidating. So much pain emanated from him, she could feel it all the way across the room like a tug of emotion in her chest. In her heart.
He’d given her the means to be on her own. And he didn’t need to do that. She could recover, find a job and pay her own debts. But she knew, if she did that, she would always wonder. Always regret that she had never found out what this was she felt in her heart for this man.
The timing was all wrong. Her emotions were still scarred, and her grief…Her chest fisted tight with a killing pain. No, she did not dare think about that.
She only knew she could not let him go. “Do you know the reason I didn’t open your gifts? Because I don’t want you to think I’m saying yes because of what you’ve bought me. I’ll marry you because of how you’ve treated me.”
“What did you say?”
“This ring could be just what I need to start a new life, too. If you are a man of your word.”
“If? Angel, I’m that and more.” Dillon couldn’t believe his ears. He crossed the room in three strides and dropped to his knees in front of her. “You know what I am. I’m a horseman, not a judge.”
“I noticed.”
“I’ve got a log house, not a fine mansion on a tree-lined street. You know that, right? I’m not wealthy. There won’t be servants and maids and a cook.”
“I wasn’t expecting any.”
If she married him, he wanted her to know what was in store for her. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. “I’m not a lot of things that you’re used to. Polished and civilized and educated. I am what I am.”
Were her eyes twinkling at him? Was she trying not to laugh at him? What was he doing wrong now? A shaft of pain bored through his left temple. He was glad this courting nonsense was over. He couldn’t survive much more of it. “Am I amusing you?”
“Yes. There’s something you should know before you keep going on about how humble you are.”
“Now you’re mocking me.”
“You don’t have to worry, Dillon. M
y father was a horseman, too.”
His hands framed her face with tenderness and his mouth found hers in a kiss that lifted the soles of her feet from the floor.
Overwhelmed, she pulled away, chuckling, catching her breath. She hadn’t expected this reaction. She hadn’t even known what she would choose until she saw him walk through that door.
Marrying him was a practical decision. That was all. She was still weak, and being on her own, even with money in her pocket, would not be her best choice.
But marriage was permanent. Panic licked at her like a greedy fire at a log, and she couldn’t deny she could be making a mistake. If you marry me, know that I’m the best husband you are ever going to get.
Look how happy he was. Surely that was a good sign. That meant he was going to treat her well.
Marriage was a practical, legal arrangement in her social circle more often than not. That was what had motivated her mother to marry. As it had been Katelyn’s duty to wed her stepfather’s good friend, a man who had brought many benefits to the family. She didn’t see that kind of alliance had ever brought anyone happiness. Certainly her marriage had been sad and lonely and miserable.
Maybe that was simply the experience of matrimony. But surely being bound to a man who cared for her was a far better option than living alone for the rest of her days.
Perhaps, her life with the horseman would be pleasant. Peaceful enough so she could pretend not to feel her grief. She might find it easier to breathe in and out. To face each day and muddle through it. For what life could she ever have without her heart?
“When do you want to get married?” His touch to her face turned reverent. “Wait. Maybe it’s best to get breakfast first. And the doctor, he’s going to have to see if you’re strong enough to ride in a sleigh. I don’t want you tired out.”
“Wait, Dillon, I-”
“I’ll ask the town minister when he has time to perform a ceremony. Marry me now, and I’ll take you home today. I’ll take care of you.”
Maybe I’ve made the wrong decision. She took his big hand in hers, workingman’s hands. Callused from holding leather reins and training leads. Hands that were brown from the sun and rough from the wind. Dependable, capable hands that had made her feel alive.
She hadn’t thought what he would want from her in a marriage. This man, whose heart showed in his honest excitement and his affectionate touch.
Should she change her mind? Now, while she had the chance? And how could she? He cared for her so much.
“I’ll go fetch your breakfast. That’s the first thing.”
He is a good man. A hard pain twisted in her chest. The pain of starting to care for someone again. Coming up through the grief in her heart like a seedling through snow.
“Open your gifts. Go on.” He handed her a package from the corner of the bed. “I’ll be back. Want anything special from the kitchen?”
“No.” She set the afghan aside and stood. “I need to talk to you about something. You seem to have the wrong impression.”
“I do?”
“You said that honesty is the best course between a man and a woman.”
“I sure did.” He took one look at her furrowed brow and his happiness withered. He gripped the lip of the wooden mantel for support. Was she going to change her mind?
“I don’t know what you are expecting of me as your wife.” She might be a petite woman who looked as delicate as the china cup she’d been drinking from, but she had backbone. Standing up to him. Looking him in the eye.
He liked it. She’d never been more attractive to him. He should have known she wasn’t about to go back on her word. “I guess I’m expecting the usual. Fidelity. Honesty. A happy home.”
“Fine, but I mean, from me. The wedding night? Do you expect-”
“No.” He hated seeing fear shiver through her. What had that bastard done to her? He hid his fury, schooling it from his voice, because he didn’t want to frighten her.
He’d never want to do that. “I know getting used to me is going to be an adjustment. I’m not going to rush you on certain, er, uh, intimacies. It’s not a duty, and I don’t want you thinking you have to submit to me, all right?”
Her fisted hands relaxed. Relief erased some of the furrows from her crinkled brow. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Why thank me? It’s only natural that you’ll need time. In the meanwhile, I’ll draw baths for you and tuck you in at night. Is that a deal?”
What a man he is. There was no way he could know what his understanding meant to her. She pushed aside memories of Brett’s impatience on their wedding night. And the act of marriage that she dreaded.
Dillon’s touch had been tender and thrilling. Caring. As had his whispered confession when he’d thought she slept. I love you. I do.
No one in her adult life had said they loved her. The power of those words gave her courage now. She never wanted to hurt this man who stood as tough as a mountain and hid a gallant soul.
Just tell him, Katelyn. She took a breath while he waited. “I know how you feel, but you need to know that I don’t love you.”
“Yet.”
“I’m sorry. I want to be honest with you.”
“I already know that, angel.” His eyes looked pinched, but he stood as unshakable as ever.
“And you still want to marry me?”
“Darlin’, I’d do anything for the privilege of having you for my wife.” He stole the ring from the table, cradled her left hand in his and slipped the band of gold on her finger.
“No matter what happens in our life together, I will never abandon you. I’ll never cast you aside. This is for always, Katelyn. I’ll forever stand by you.”
How could he know what his words meant to her?
He kissed her cheek, a tender brush of his lips. In her view, he stood taller and greater than he ever had before.
Chapter Twelve
“Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?” The minister’s question hit Dillon like a sucker punch.
Although he had two weeks to get used to the idea that she’d said yes, it still left him reeling and gasping for air. You’d think a man who’d done nothing but wish for Katelyn’s hand in marriage since he’d spotted her on that first moonlight night wouldn’t be quaking in his boots when he was getting exactly what he wanted. But he was. It wasn’t getting married that was scaring him.
His bride kept glancing toward the door.
Did she want to escape? Was she going to dash off down the empty aisle in the middle of her vows? Or was she simply going to say she’d rather crawl on her hands and knees over the Rocky Mountains in winter than marry a workingman like him?
Worrying about whether she’d bolt or not was going to give him an apoplexy.
Don’t let me down, angel. Since he was in a church, he hoped the heavens would hear his request.
“Repeat after me,” the minister instructed. “I, Dillon Michael Hennessey…”
He did his best to concentrate. He didn’t want to make a mistake. He meant these words with all he was. Heart, body and soul. “…to honor and cherish, in sickness and in health,” he vowed. He felt as tall as the sky. In a few more moments, she would be his wife.
His wife. He couldn’t believe it. He felt near to bursting with pride.
“I, Katherine Lyn Green,” she spoke, her words vibrating like a harp’s string, she sounded so nervous.
You have nothing to fear, he wanted to tell her. He’d never let anything hurt her. He’d protect her with his life, love her with his heart.
She was beautiful in one of the dresses he’d bought for her. In fact, everything she wore had been from him. It was thoughtful of her, since the clothes she’d brought with her in her little satchel were much fancier.
But in the green-and-tan calico she looked more like a horseman’s wife. Her hair was up in a knot, and a few unruly curls had tumbled over her brow and into her eyes. Such a beautiful woman, and she was his. All his.
The ceremony was almost over. She hadn’t run yet. She’d repeated her vows perfectly. Her palms against his were damp and he could feel her fear the same way he could feel the flutter of her pulse at his fingertips.
“If there is any reason…” the minister called out in the empty church.
Words Katelyn could not listen to. They reminded her of another wedding, of feeling as if she’d been handed a jail sentence with a man she didn’t love.
What was she doing marrying another man she didn’t love?
Dillon is different. He’s kind. He’s good. I care about him. But she didn’t love him. Her mind swirled with doubt. What if this marriage turned out no better than the last?
No, Dillon was different. Better.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.” The minister’s words drew her from her thoughts and into the small church as her husband took her face in his hands, gazed down at her as if he cherished her only and utterly and covered her lips with his.
His kiss was like moonlight on the prairie. Stunning. Silvery. So beautiful it hurt. Tears gathered in her eyes. Hope took seed in her soul.
What about this man? He broke the kiss and in the reverent silence that followed, he folded her against him, his arms closed around her. Her cheek rested against his chest. She fit against him as if she’d been made to. Something happened inside her. Something changed. His hand settled into the small of her neck. His lips brushed her brow once and again.
How did he do it? How could he reach inside her like that with a kiss? Why could he stir her in places long dead and buried? Like frozen ground beneath a winter’s snow? It hurt, this quiet affection finding life inside her.
His hand stroked her face, lifted her chin to meet his eyes, and when he smiled, the ice cracked. Like winter into spring, she felt as if she were breaking inside and renewing. She didn’t know what the feeling was in her chest, growing and spreading and hurting all at once. It was more than caring. More than affection.
Was it love?
“C’mon, Mrs. Hennessey.” He grinned at her and kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me take you home.”
