Jonah's Bride

by Jillian Hart

How would the legend take to living an ordinary life, Tessa wondered as she headed out in the snow. How would a hero become an ordinary man?

  Chapter Three

  "Thankful Bowman is an awful pretty girl. 'Course she is a little long in the tooth, but since she does not often smile, a man would not notice so much."

  Jonah slammed his fist on the table, rattling silverware, fighting a suffocating panic. "Enough. I never said I wanted a wife."

  On the other side of the cider pitcher, his unmanageable younger brother, hardly more than twenty, howled. "Surely, Jonah. Tell that to Father. He has done nothing more than talk of your homecoming for the last five years and of the wife you will take."

  "I did not come home all this while because I knew what he wanted. Marriage is a trap I would rather avoid." The weight of his promise now tightened about his throat like a hanging noose. The idea of marriage was not a comforting one.

  "So, you will break your vow to Father?"

  Jonah felt his chest turn cold and it grew difficult to breathe. "Nay, I warrant this is a promise I'll keep."

  As much as he wanted to run for freedom, Jonah knew he'd come home for good. With Father nearing the end of his days, there was naught he could do but fulfill the dying man's final wishes. He loved his father, and marriage was his duty. No matter how distasteful, Jonah vowed to find a bride.

  Andy gulped down a great amount of cider before digging into his huge bowl of corn pone. "Why, every female in town has talked of little else for months. They seem to think you would make a fine catch, Jonah."

  Thomas, the middle brother and more practical than salt, shook his head and helped himself to two more biscuits. " 'Tis true. A smart maiden has taken a good look at this house and figured how fine it would be to live here. Of course, once those maids get a good eyeful of our ugly brother, they will likely change their minds."

  "Ugly?" Jonah roared. "Who in blazes are you calling ugly?"

  His brothers laughed, and Jonah shook his head. "I will have no more talk of brides today."

  "Brother, bellow orders at someone who'll listen." Andy wiped his brow. "If I was not mistaken, I heard a woman's voice in the hallway this morning, quite early too, just as the sun was rising. Have you been sowing oats your first night back in town?"

  "Sowing oats? There is not a wench this side of Boston who will have him," Thomas declared gravely. There was more laughter.

  Jonah grabbed his spoon and dug into his pudding, unable to stop thinking of the woman Andy had mentioned. He saw flashes of Tessa's face, made so tender and vulnerable in the lamplight, and jeweled blue eyes filled with sadness as she walked away from this house not an hour before.

  At first Jonah feared the fine cloak didn't meet with her approval, an old piece of wool nearly thirty years old. But there was no mistaking the want in her eyes. Aye, Tessa Bradford coveted the garment he'd offered, but she'd walked away wearing nothing more than a coarse and faded homespun dress to protect her against the wind.

  Truly a mystery. Jonah had met never a female who would refuse a man's gift, especially finery she didn't have. You cannot buy me, Hunter. Tessa's words haunted him.

  "See? There was a woman in his room last night," Andy accused. "And he's smitten by her, too."

  Jonah studied the amused light in his brother's eyes, read the interest and the delight "I am bound to disappoint you, little brother. There was no woman in my bed. Just Tessa Bradford come to tend Father."

  The glee died from the room. Thomas cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable with the thought of one so severe as Mistress Bradford in the house at all. "She is a capable healer, no doubt. A sickness went through the village last winter, and half the children would be dead if not for her herbs and such."

  "She scares me," Andy ruefully admitted as he spooned more corn pudding into his mouth. "Rumor was Horace Walling is thinking of marrying her."

  "Horace Walling?" Jonah roared. "What kind of cruelty is a rumor like that? He was a wife-beating drunkard ten years ago when I left this town. I doubt he has changed his ways."

  "Aye," Thomas agreed, dark eyes somber. "He has twelve children to care for since his last wife died in childbed before Thanksgiving."

  And that was to be Tessa's fate? Rage burst through Jonah's chest, but he checked it in time. Hell, it was not his concern if she married some no good drunkard. Jonah had his own problems, even if his conscience nagged him.

  "I shall stay home and tend Father today," he ordered, reaching for the pitcher. "You two bachelors can go to meeting and terrify all those pretty young maidens with your ugly faces."

  "Not likely, big brother." Thomas cracked an uncommon grin. "Every marriageable female in this town will be done up in their finest, sitting expectantly on those meeting house benches waiting for the first sight of Major Jonah Hunter, town hero. Andy and I would be a sore disappointment to them."

  "Speak for yourself, Thomas," Andy teased. "I would like to see all those beautiful young females for myself. Besides, Jonah may need my help in fighting them off. He knows plenty about Indians, but not one thing when it comes to handling a woman."

  " 'Tis true," Jonah sighed. "I have given my word to Father, so there is no going back. Andy, come with me to today's meeting. Protect me from all those dangerous women."

  He'd meant to joke, but sobered when neither brother laughed.

  Sure enough, every unmarried girl from miles around crammed the hard board pews. Jonah froze in the aisle, shoulders braced, unabashedly terrified by the expectant shine in so many female eyes.

  "They have not yet fainted from the sight of your ugly face." Andy nudged him in the side. "Wait, there is one wobbling a bit."

  "Mayhap she got a good whiff of your feet." Jonah felt the weight of all those eyes, saw all the beribboned hats and dresses and nearly fainted himself.

  One face after the other blurred in his mind, and a sick horror gripped him. Sweat broke out on his brow. How did one just pick a wife? There were so many young women. Why, they must be half his age. What did Father expect him to do? Wed a mere child?

  A bad, bad feeling grew as he led the way down the aisle. Whispers rose with each step he took. He felt expectation rise like fog above a river. They thought him a war hero, thought him brave for killing savages. The truth clawed at his heart and he could not bring himself to meet one gaze or to focus on a familiar face, perhaps an old friend, and smile.

  "No woman has lost consciousness so far," Andy reported as they settled onto the family pew.

  "I swear it would be better for me if they did," Jonah whispered. The sharpness of so many gazes arrowed into his back. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this uncomfortable.

  "Scared, big brother?"

  "Aye." Jonah forced a swallow past his too-tight throat. "If they all fainted, I would be saved from having to marry."

  "They would revive, dear brother, and then you would be no better off." Andy folded his hat in two. "Mayhap it is best just to pick one. Toss a coin or something. All women are just about the same in my opinion."

  "Aye, that they are." Jonah thought of his stepmother and shuddered. Selfish to the core, that one. Were all marriages like that? Already dreading the bickering and the constant demands, he dared to turn a fraction and gaze about the church.

  The back of a woman's head caught his eye. A white cap neatly hid the luxurious beauty of her hair, but tiny ringlet wisps peaked out from beneath the cap, dark silk against the white satin of her neck. She wore no cloak in this unheated meetinghouse. Why, 'twas so cold frost gleamed along the inside walls.

  Tessa Bradford. He remembered the sight of her tending Father, the gentle caring of her hands, the softness in her face as she sat unguarded, unaware he was watching.

  "Too sharp of tongue," Andy whispered. "And she is kind of ugly."

  "No, she is just plain." Jonah remembered the light in her eyes, unique and compelling. She'd gone without sleep to tend Father, she'd walked away from a fine cloak when she had none. Nay, the
re was no ugliness, no selfishness to that one.

  "Headstrong," Andy argued. "Now, her cousin is a beauty."

  "Her cousin is half my age," Jonah ground out. Were there no other women over twenty years in this village?

  "Well, the only other woman even nearly as ancient as you is the Widow Hawkins. She would be tolerable if a man could look past her warts."

  "Andy, when I need your comments about a woman, I will ask." Jonah forced his gaze to the pulpit when the reverend cleared his throat. "Sensible. That is what I need. A sensible, undemanding woman."

  "Pretty," Andy whispered as the sermon began.

  Pretty? The place was packed full of pretty women with ambitious mamas. Jonah managed a forced grin when Charity Bradford, Tessa's stepgrandmother, cast him a huge smile. The blond girl seated next to her turned to smile too. But he wasn't dazzled.

  Too many choices, and none of them what he wanted. Hell, he didn't want a wife. How could he? He'd lost his heart long ago when he'd taken his first step on the battlefield.

  The tale of the wolves had grown to gargantuan proportion. Larger than life, the story grew-Jonah battling nearly a dozen wolves with his lone musket and saving the skating boys.

  Of course the boys walked rather stiffly today, no doubt from angry spankings, but punishment hadn't dimmed the admiration shining in their youthful eyes, nor the tale itself.

  Tessa listened with fear raw in her throat as her young cousin, a boy no more than ten, repeated the legend for the family. To her relief, no woman was mentioned. No one remembered or noticed her presence there that night.

  Not that it mattered now. Grandfather had found a way to punish her. He'd finally found a way to rid his house of her presence. And she'd made matters much worse this morning, when he'd been scolding her like a five-year-old in the stable as she hurried her chores, by asking who would do all the work if she left? Not his lazy wife or his useless daughters, that was for certain. Grandfather had turned a frightening shade of purple and if she hadn't the pitchfork firmly in hand, Tessa knew without a doubt the cruel old man would have struck her.

  Yes, her temper had made the situation much, much worse. And all because of Jonah Hunter and his bold arrogance. True, his father had needed her help desperately and he'd been right in coming for her, yet the truth remained. Had he not insisted that she leave the stable, she would have been home for her chores and no one would have noticed her absence or found the wet cloak in the cow pen.

  "He's a dream," Violet murmured to her friend Thankful Bowman. "Too good to be true."

  Tessa clenched her jaw as she finished clearing up the packed meal. A dream? Jonah Hunter was a decent woman's nightmare.

  "And he has the most gorgeous house," Thankful sighed, shaking her blond curls just enough so that a carefully curled lock tumbled into her eyes. "The finest house from here to Boston."

  "And servants," Violet sighed. "Yes, Major Hunter is an absolute dream."

  Tessa fitted the lid on the crock and nearly threw it into the basket. Major Hunter, indeed. Call the man anything respectable, it didn't change the arrogance inside.

  "Good afternoon, Ely." A deep voice broke through her malicious thoughts.

  Both girls gasped. Tessa's fingers lost control and a knife tumbled from her grip.

  Dark eyes met hers, laughing. "Let me fetch that for you, Mistress Tessa."

  "I am perfectly capable," she argued, bending as he did. They knelt together beside the board table, the sunlight behind him covering her with his shadow.

  " 'Tis the gentlemanly thing to do." His fingers snatched up the battered knife before she could.

  "You are no gentleman, Hunter. A devil in a fine cloak, and no, you do not fool me. You may be able to impress a sixteen-year-old girl, but I have seen enough to know the type of man you are."

  An amazing grin curved his mouth. "What type of man am I, mistress?"

  "The kind that could benefit from the blunt end of a stick." Tessa grabbed the wooden handled knife from his big, fine-cut fingers.

  "For shame!" Grandfather bellowed as he paced to a halt behind her. A cold wind shivered along her skin. "Insulting our guest. Major Hunter, I feel I must apologize for my granddaughter's horrible behavior."

  Jonah climbed to his feet, unfolding his powerful body with an easy grace. "Feel no need to excuse Tessa. I remember her quite well from my school days."

  "Little has changed." Ely shook his head. "Good of you to make your way to our table. We have enough time for a cup of tea before the afternoon sermon starts. Will you share a cup?"

  Jonah tugged at his collar. The nervous gesture made him look like a thief ready for hanging. "I have my brother to look after."

  "He is a grown man," Tessa spoke, reaching inside the basket. "Sit, Hunter. Certain members of my family are anxious to hear how you shot so many wolves with a single musket"

  She watched heat darken his face. So, almighty Jonah Hunter could be embarrassed after all. Well, let him be. He was preening before the women like a prize bull.

  " 'Tis nothing but a tale," Jonah answered, dismissing the story grown into fiction with a wave of his well-formed hand. "Thank you for the tea, Mistress Tessa."

  His fingers brushed hers as he took the simple wooden cup. Tiny flames danced up her arm. Appalled, she stepped away.

  "He does not fancy you, Tessa," Violet whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Jonah's dark eyes landed on hers, his gaze as dazzling as the first star of the night Heavens, she could not look away. Grandfather's wife tittered, made some comment Tessa didn't even listen to. She ought to bow her head, tear her gaze from his, so arrogant Jonah Hunter could not see the pain in her heart. But she could not.

  He broke the gaze, turning his sizzling eyes to Violet, blushing prettily in the midday sun. A dimple framed her smile, and to Tessa's despair, Jonah Hunter smiled back.

  "I will take some of that sugar." His rich voice caressed the words.

  Tessa shivered and turned away. She concentrated too hard on the task of pouring tea and serving it around the table. Her hands shook and she nearly spilled twice, but she ignored her stepgrandmother's scolding.

  Why did she let him affect her so? Because he was so handsome? Because he made her blood heat? Angry with herself, Tessa turned her back on him and tidied up.

  "Hello, Ely. Mistress Tessa." A man's voice, rude and harsh, broke through the family's pleasant conversation.

  "Horace," Ely welcomed.

  Tessa's blood froze. She looked up into the haggard, lined face of her grandfather's neighbor. Watery eyes focused on her. A slow smile stretched his chapped lips.

  "I have come to see my bride-to-be." His voice felt as cold as ice. "I want to walk her back to the meetinghouse."

  Tessa took one step back and into the table. Boards rattled. A crock thumped in protest. A man's big hand covered her elbow. She looked up, and Jonah stood at her side, wide shoulders set, his powerful body tensed.

  "Bride-to-be?" he roared. "What the devil is he talking about?" A muscle jumped in Jonah's square jaw. "Tessa, explain to me what Walling means?"

  Little fires licked her skin trapped beneath the heat of his hand. Her heart raced as fast as a bird in flight. Tessa felt dizzy, unable to breathe, as Horace stepped forward and held out one unwashed, bone-thin hand.

  "I-" She swallowed, unable to say the words. It felt as if her heart died looking at the unkempt man in the doorway. In the common yard beyond, she saw families packing up their dinners and heading back to the meetinghouse, wives beside their husbands, children huddling around them.

  "Horace has agreed to marry my granddaughter and take her out of my household for good." There was no mistaking the pride in Ely Bradford's voice. He clearly didn't want Tessa. Was proud he'd done little better than force her on a brutal husband.

  Jonah's throat tightened. Anger beat at his chest. She felt so fragile beneath his hand. He felt fine bone and sinewy muscle. She was lean and spare, too damn lean in his opinion
. Looking at her face, so sad, lined with fatigue, it didn't take a genius to know why.

  Ely worked her harder than most would work a slave. And treated her worse, too. Why, she had nothing to ward off the last of the winter's harsh winds. Only a thin woolen shawl, ragged and worn.

  "Let Major Hunter come to know Violet better," Ely dared to say now, "and go with Horace, Tessa. Oh, and take the dirty dishes with you."

  He felt Tessa tense, her muscles drawing up ready to fight. Then she moved from his touch. She stepped away, a slim ribbon of a thing, picking up cups and gathering spoons with quiet efficiency.

  Jonah's chest tightened when she folded the basket shut and took one halting step toward Horace Walling. The foul bastard grinned, exposing yellowed, rotten teeth. Anger roared through Jonah's blood.

  "She is the worst tempered female in the colony," Charity Bradford began in her irritating, overly gracious tone. "Thank goodness Violet is sweet tempered. Please, do not think such horrid character runs in the blood."

  One look at Violet's calculating, greedy eyes told Jonah the girl was far from sweet. Words of protest rose in his throat, words to defend Tessa from these people who called themselves family, but he stopped.

  He remembered how Tessa had walked away from him this morning in the parlor, how she'd refused his help, called him wolf, told him he could not buy her. There was no selfish want in her eyes, no coveting a fine home. Hell, she hadn't even wanted the payment he'd offered.

  A small light of admiration burned in his chest Not that he found Tessa Bradford attractive. No. A woman with such a sharp tongue could slice a man in two.

  And yet she was one woman who-

  No, he would not think it Tessa was to be married. She was too old, too difficult, too stubborn, and Andy was right. She wasn't pretty.

  He bid the family goodbye, startled by Violet's sultry smile. What was wrong with this child? And with the others half his age looking at him as if he could move the moon, as if he were a hero?

  Bleakness beat at his heart. When they looked at him, could they not see it? He was nothing but a man. A man of flaws and fears and a heart that had died long ago.