Still, the thought of being intimate with the lovely Phoebe did things to his heart he’d never experienced before. Perhaps, he’d head to the claim tomorrow to spend time digging for gold in the cold water.
Their meal arrived and they spent the time in silence, occasionally glancing up at each other. Alex smiled when meeting Phoebe’s gaze, but she kept her features impassive, serious. With each glance, his spirits fell. She truly did seem to regret her decision to marry him. Too late now. Of course, without consummation, they could annul.
“Phoebe?”
She glanced up.
Alex took a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to back out of our arrangement.” He twisted the napkin in his hands. “If you do not desire to be my wife in every way by…Christmas, we’ll have the marriage annulled. Is that agreeable to you?”
Tears, whether of sadness or gratitude, he couldn’t tell, welled in her eyes. She ducked her head and whispered, “Yes.”
3
After a sleepless night for fear of rolling into Alex, Phoebe sat at the table and nursed a cup of coffee. Her husband (how strange that sounded) had gone downstairs ten minutes ago, leaving her with nothing but a pat on the head and reminders that unless she gave him his husbandly rights by Christmas, she’d be unwed. Again.
He hadn’t said those exact words. But, he had made it more than clear at the restaurant the night before.
She sighed and glanced around the small room. Even with her few gowns hanging on pegs, it was a masculine room, and she had nothing with which to make it prettier.
After finishing her coffee, she set the cup on the drainboard and grabbed a bucket in which to fetch water from the pump out back. Thankfully, Alex had constructed a set of stairs leading from the upstairs abode so she wouldn’t have to trek through his shop. She stopped at the top step.
It would make more sense to wash dishes in the same tub she would use for washing clothes. Why carry buckets of water up and down? She stacked the dishes in the water bucket and carried them to the pump.
“I wish I would have thought of that,” Alex said, coming up behind her. “The steepness of the stairs makes it tricky to carry water.”
“I don’t see a tub for laundry.”
“I send it out to be done. The winters are mighty cold. You wouldn’t want to be down here washing when it’s freezing outside.”
True, the idea held no appeal for her. But, what would she do with her time? She turned, unaware of his close proximity. Her head bopped his chin. He smelled fresh and clean of a woodsy scented soap.
“Where did you go to bathe?”
“The saloon.”
She stepped back. “You’re a drinking man?”
“No, but that’s the only place to purchase a hot bath.” He grinned. “Would you like me to escort you?”
“Heavens, no. I’ll lock the upstairs door and fetch water myself.” Once she purchased a tub, of course. Since her husband hadn’t seen fit to make sure a wife had certain items waiting for her, she would have to make a list and visit the mercantile. “There are some things I need.” She turned away from his gaze. If she looked too long, she’d be mired in the depths of his eyes. “Is there a certain amount I’m allowed to spend for a household account?”
“I have a running ledger. Get whatever you need. I apologize for the shortage of food stuffs.”
“It isn’t only food we need, Mr. …Alex.” She filled the bucket with water and shaved off some soap from a bar she’d brought with her.
“I’m sorry.” His face fell. “It seems I’m saying that a lot. I really had no idea what a woman would need and failed to properly prepare. Again, please, get what you need.” He turned to go. “I will be leaving soon for my claim. I won’t be home until sometime tomorrow.”
He was leaving her alone. Sadness engulfed her. He may not know what to do to prepare for a bride, but she had no idea how to make a husband happy.
She eyed the simple wool pants and flannel shirt he wore. She’d spotted another pair hanging in their home. It might be unconventional, but she had heard of women working alongside their husbands, whether mining or farming, something made more difficult if she wore skirts and petticoats. Besides, who would see her other than her husband?
She would pack them what food she could find and accompany him to the claim. Help mining the gold that provided him with the job he loved would surely endear her to him.
After he returned to the shop, she quickly washed their breakfast dishes and raced up the stairs. Locking the door, she shed her housedress and donned her husband’s clothes. Dressed, her hair secured under a floppy hat, she quickly made sandwiches and tossed them into a sack. She took one more look around the room, not entirely sure of what they would need, then grabbed her shawl. The nights were definitely cooler than she was used to.
As ready as she would ever be, she thundered down the stairs and into the shop.
*
Alex grabbed the pack holding his mining supplies from under the counter and turned at the commotion behind him. He blinked. Was that his ladylike wife wearing britches?
“What in tarnation?”
“I’m going with you. I can’t do that in a dress.”
His mouth dried up. His pants might be baggy on her, along with the shirt, but imagining her womanly curves in something that had touched his body did things to his mind that were entirely inappropriate. “A wife’s place is in the home.”
She planted her hands on her hips, straining the buttons of his shirt. “And do what, pray tell? The dishes are done. The laundry is sent out. Am I to sit and twiddle my thumbs?”
Dang, the woman was fetching in his clothes and riled up. He swallowed past the mountain in his throat. It was going to be difficult to keep his distance until she decided whether or not she wanted him. “It’s hard work. You’ll roughen your hands.”
“That is not the end of the world, Alex.” She narrowed her eyes. “Just because I was once companion to a lonely, wealthy old woman, does not mean that I am afraid of hard work.”
“But … your skin is so … soft.” He was acting like a fool again. He was head of his household, correct? Didn’t the Bible state it as his role? Then, why couldn’t he put his foot down and order her to stay?
Her face flushed pink. “Are we ready to leave?”
“You’ll have to ride …” He couldn’t breathe. She would have to ride astride. Behind him. His heart was going to burst free and run screaming down the street. “…astride. With me, I mean, behind me.”
She was now the color of a sunset, but stood her ground. “Very well.” She stomped past him and headed outside.
He followed. “Stay here. I’ll fetch the horse from the livery.” There was no sense in letting the entire town know that while Phoebe Vaughn might look the epitome of a lady, she had an unruly streak.
She nodded and stepped back into the shop, flipping the sign on the door to closed. She gave him a small smile, which had his heart tumbling.
Slapping his hat on his head, he rushed down the street to the stable, thankful for the chilly morning that would help cool his face before he had to speak to anyone. He stepped into the dim recesses of the livery and straight to the stall holding Fortune, the bay horse he had purchased with his first gold.
Travis Lawson, the livery owner, tossed a forkful of hay into the next stall. “How’s married life?” Whiskey laden breath wafted Alex’s way.
“Confusing.”
Travis laughed. “That’s why I’m not getting hitched anytime soon. Women are foreign creatures. Lovely to look at, but hard to understand. Besides, who wants a drunken cripple?”
Alex agreed, but when he’d spotted the advertisement for “angels”, he couldn’t help but fork over the money and order himself one. He’d had no idea his own angel would have two very different sides to her.
With the horse saddled and ready, Alex swung onto its back and rode to fetch his bride and mining partner. He said a prayer for her safety. I
f she fell into the creek and caught a chill or drowned or … any number of dangers awaited her. He’d never forgive himself for being weak enough to let her go.
The moment he stopped the horse in front of his shop, Phoebe dashed out, locking the door behind her and held out her hand for him to help her up. He grasped her forearm and pulled her up behind him. He was in trouble for sure. With her plastered against him, he couldn’t think straight. In fact, he sat there like a fool while folks moseying down the street stopped and stared.
“Are we going?” she whispered.
Yanking his attention to what was safe, riding toward his claim, he flicked the reins and headed out of town. Phoebe tightened her hold on his back. His mind went blank.
“How far is your claim?”
“What?”
“Your claim. How far?” Phoebe asked.
“About an hour’s ride.” He’d never survive.
“Will we be sleeping in a tent?”
He almost fell off his horse. He had a small tent and one sleeping roll. Good Lord, they’d be in close proximity, and he’d thought the night before was rough. After praying for what felt like hours, he had finally fallen into a fitful sleep. He wasn’t sure prayer would get him through the night ahead.
“I’m rather excited about this latest venture,” said the strange creature behind him. “I’m not one for trying new things without some amount of fear, but I find myself raring to go.”
A safe topic. “You’ve had several adventures, from what I can tell. You went from companion to wife to miner all within the space of a few weeks.”
“True.”
She laid her cheek against his back, making his breathing irregular. Soft snores soon followed, alerting him to the fact she had fallen asleep.
He glanced at the hands entwined across his midsection, and placed his larger one over hers. Alex decided right then and there that he rather enjoyed being married, if for no other reason than to feel his wife’s arms around his waist, her cheek on his back, and to see his ring on her finger.
4
Phoebe watched as Alex removed his boots and rolled up his pant legs, revealing shapely calves. Her face heated when he glanced up and caught her looking.
“You might want to do the same,” he said, “unless you’re partial to getting your boots wet.”
She nodded and sat on a large rock next to the stream. Her husband’s claim was halfway up the mountain where the water ran swift and clear. Since she’d committed herself to helping and couldn’t swim, she could only pray the water wasn’t too deep. She removed her boots and left them sitting on top of a rock.
“Take this.” Alex handed her a deep tin plate. “Stand on the other side of that rock, about ankle deep. I’ll be there to show you how to pan in a minute.”
She did as he said and stepped into the water. Sharp pricks of ice shot through her feet, making her gasp. How was she supposed to work in such cold?
“Don’t worry. Your feet will be numb soon enough. It’s your fingers that you have to worry about.” Alex moved behind her. “Squat and scoop the sand from the creek bottom into your tin.”
His large hands engulfed hers, warming a lot more than her fingers.
“Then, you swirl vigorously, like this.” His arms brushed first one side, then the other until Phoebe couldn’t think straight. “Gold is heavier than sand, so it will settle in the bottom of the pan.” He plucked a tiny flake from the tin and held it on the tip of his finger. He grinned like a boy with a peppermint stick, then dropped the flake into a small vial. “Think you can do it?”
If he stepped away from her, she knew she could. If a man she’d just met could affect her emotions so, she must have been lonelier than she’d imagined.
As she swirled and sifted through sand, her mind wandered to the days after Mrs. Rochester died. Her son, Benedict, had given Phoebe two choices: stay as his bride or leave. Since the man made her skin crawl after two seconds in his presence, she had chosen to leave. She’d been given one month’s severance pay, the wedding dress bequeathed to her in the Will, and sent packing. The advertisement in the paper for mail-order angels had seemed like the most logical solution to a hopeless situation.
She glanced across the creek to where Alex worked with his own tin. Seeing the man she had married, who was a bit scatter-brained, perhaps, but kind, her choice didn’t seem so bad. He was much preferable to Benedict Rochester.
Something winked at her from the bottom of her tin. “Oh!” She grabbed the nugget the size of her thumbnail and jumped to her feet. “Look!”
As she held up the gold, the creek’s current swept her feet from under her. It wasn’t deep enough to fully submerge her, but the slippery bottom made it impossible for her to get up. She met Alex’s startled gaze as she was washed away.
Alex kept pace with her as she raced down the creek bank. “Keep your head up!”
“I’m trying!” Her feet no longer felt the cold, but the rest of her body was quickly making up for it.
She reached out to grab a low-hanging tree branch, her fingers ripping away leaves as she continued her wet journey. She screamed as a boulder loomed in front of her. She slammed against it, her forehead connecting with the rock. Her eyes closed.
“Phoebe?”
She opened her eyes to see Alex’s face, creased with concern, mere inches from hers. Her lips curled into a smile and she held out her hand. “I saved the nugget.”
“You silly girl.” He swept her into his arms. “We’ve got to get you warm.”
“I’m warm.” She buried her face in his neck. Her head pounded, her clothes clung to her, but being in his arms heated her blood.
When they returned to the tent, Alex set Phoebe inside. “Strip and wrap up in the blanket, then come sit by the fire. I’ll hang your wet clothes on a tree.”
He wanted her to disrobe, then step outside? The man was insane to suggest such a thing.
“I’m serious, Phoebe. You’ll catch your death of cold.” He winked. “I’m getting used to you. Don’t want you dying on me just yet.”
She yanked the tent closed. The man certainly had a twisted sense of humor. She handed him her pants and shirt through the tent opening.
“Don’t forget your underthings.”
She gasped. “It isn’t proper!”
“We’re married, Phoebe. I’m going to see your undergarments at some point.”
Face flaming, she stripped to her skin and handed him the rest of her wet things. She should have stayed unconscious and been spared the humiliation. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped in the blanket, parted the tent flap, and then stepped into the warm afternoon sun.
*
Alex almost fell backward when Phoebe stepped from the tent. Not that he could see anything other than her long hair cascading down her back, but that was enough. That, and knowing she wore nothing under the blanket. God, give me self-control.
“Sit.” He motioned to a log he’d placed close to the fire. “Your clothes should be dry soon.” He handed her a mug of hot coffee and peered at the knot on her head. He held up two fingers. “How many fingers?”
She tilted her head to the side and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Ten.”
“What?!”
“I’m joking. The time for holding up fingers is gone. Other than a headache and embarrassment, I am fine.”
“That’s the biggest nugget I’ve ever pulled from this creek,” he said. “You’re good luck.”
“My luck is so good, I almost drowned.” She buried her nose in her cup.
He wanted to admit to how frightened he’d been at the sight of her being washed away, but something told him she wasn’t ready to hear such words from his lips. Maybe she was. He studied her pale face, just beginning to get some color back to it.
Would she appreciate him telling her how beautiful she was wrapped in a threadbare blanket with her hair loose? Or about how he felt when she was in his arms? He had no idea what was proper to tell a woman he
’d only known for a day, even if that woman was his wife. Since Phoebe was a lady, he could only assume the same protocol applied to her as to a woman he’d just met, wife or not.
“When you’re dry and dressed,” he said, “we’ll head back to town so you can have your head looked at.” They didn’t have a doctor in town, but there had to be someone who could make sure she was all right. Maybe one of the other women? He was completely unprepared for emergencies that involved his wife.
“There’s no need. We came here to mine for gold. I’ll sit here by the fire and you go mine.”
He scratched his head, wondering whether her suggestion was a trick statement or not. He’d heard women were famous for saying one thing while meaning something entirely different. It could be a terrible thing if he got it wrong.
“What are you waiting for?” She frowned. “The day is wasting. I’ll yell for you if I need anything.”
He would take that as a command to go and mine. Shaking the coffeepot to make sure she had enough to help her warm up, he grabbed his supplies and took off before she changed his mind. The cold creek water was a safer place than sitting across from her while she looked like she did.
Back at the creek, Alex plopped on a boulder and stared at the water rushing by. He sighed and picked up his tin. Every swirl of the water in his pan reflected Phoebe’s face. Every wink of a gold flake reminded him of the twinkle in her eyes. He was infatuated for sure.
What would he do if, come Christmas, she asked for the annulment? He’d have to make sure that didn’t happen.
When the sun began its descent, he headed back to camp, alarmed not to see Phoebe sitting by the fire where he had left her. He dropped his supplies and dashed to the tent, shoving his head through the flap.
She lay on her side, one bare shoulder exposed, asleep. He let out the breath he’d been holding and gazed on her beauty, wanting very much to kiss her. Instead, he picked up her shawl from the corner of the tent and lay it across her shoulders. With one final gaze upon her loveliness, he withdrew, leaving a piece of his heart inside with her.
Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set Page 10
