She had the audacity to smile at him. “Then since I’m not interested in you in any physical way either, I believe we’ll have no problem proceeding as I’ve outlined.”
Not interested in me?
Not once had he ever been refused by any woman. In fact, many times he’d had to extricate himself from the unwanted attention of a woman. Now his wife coolly told him that he didn’t interest her?
“I just want you to be sure that this is what you want. I’ll be more than happy to provide you with release from any desires you might have, darlin’,” he drawled as seductively as he could, offended she might really not find him attractive.
Then she blushed.
He hid a smile.
She’d lied.
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr. Cantrell.”
“Nathan.”
“Pardon me?”
“My name is Nathan. If we’re going to live together for five years then you’d best call me by my first name.”
She blinked as realization that he’d agreed to her terms dawned on her face. “Oh, of course.”
“Let me show you to your room then, Laura.”
He hefted her bag and led her up to the room closest to the stairs. Nothing had changed since the last housekeeper fled, so the bed lay stripped to the mattress, the bureau drawers hung open at staggered levels.
Nathan set Laura’s bag on the bed. “I’ll get you clean sheets, then go collect Rachel from Sarah’s house.”
“Would you mind bringing my boxes up first, Mr.…uhm, Nathan?”
The hesitation in her voice and her somewhat saddened expression deflated his immediate irritation at the request. She simply wanted her things around her in a strange place. It wasn’t any more than any of his housekeepers would’ve expected.
He fetched her a set of somewhat faded sheets, then went to retrieve her boxes. When he brought the first box in, he stood in the doorway holding it for a moment, watching her bend and smooth the sheets over the mattress. She moved with efficiency as though she’d done it a thousand times before. As she stretched to pull the sheets, her skirt pulled tight over her rounded derriere. He stifled a groan.
Looking up at him, she offered him a tentative smile.
“Where do you want this?” His voice sounded gruff to his own ears.
She pointed to the foot of the bed. “There would be nice.”
Happy to get rid of his burden, he set the box down and went in search of the second. He hauled it up the stairs, dropping it just inside the doorway with a thud.
“What do you have in that thing, lady? Bricks?”
“No, books.” She laughed.
The sound was almost musical. It ran over him like cool water. Intrigued, he studied her face closely. Her features relaxed, her eyes a different shade of green. He was beginning to find her eyes a barometer of her moods.
When she quietly stared at him, he realized she waited for him to comment.
“Books?”
“I brought some of my favorites to read when I have some free time.”
He cocked one brow, watching her smooth an intricately designed quilt onto the bed. “There’ll be little leisure time out here for reading. This is a working farm. The key word being work.”
Finished making her bed, she turned to look at him. “I’m under no illusions. Your advertisement asked for a woman not afraid of hard work. I intend to keep up my end of the arrangement.”
“Good. See that you do and we’ll get on just fine. I’m going to fetch Rachel now. About how long do you think it’ll be until supper is ready?” She might as well understand her responsibilities from the beginning. Meals were one of them.
“I would guess about an hour or so,” she answered, not looking at him as she lifted out a pile of underclothes to lay in the armoire. “Where is the coal for the stove?”
“Lady, this is the West. There ain’t any coal. There’s wood in the wood box near the stove. If you need more, you’ll have to get it from the woodpile outside.”
With that, he stomped back down the stairs and out to the barn, letting the back door slam behind him.
He didn’t know why, but he felt the need to leave the bedroom’s close confines—and his wife’s presence in it. Between her stretching over the bed and showing him bits of her personal items, he’d grown warmer every moment he’d stayed there.
Just because the woman now lived under his roof, he saw no real reason to be disturbed by her presence there any more than he’d been by any of his paid housekeepers. Hell, it hadn’t even been his idea to take a second wife. It was Micah’s.
Micah—the son of a bitch had disappeared the day after Neil’s telegram arrived informing him he’d found a woman to be his wife.
If his friend knew what was good for him, he’d stay far enough away not to risk getting strangled.
The door slammed below.
With a heavy sigh, Laura stared out the window and watched her husband stomp his way across the frozen earth to the barn.
What had she said to set him off? She’d simply asked for coal. In her whole life, she’d never used anything but coal in the stove. How was she supposed to know the only fuel here was wood?
The man had the most temperamental moods she’d ever witnessed. One minute he insulted her, the next he tried to convince her to consummate their marriage. She didn’t know if she was going to understand his moods, let alone get along with him for the length of their marriage contract.
She sat heavily on the bed, running her fingers over the stitches in the quilt her mother had made with so much love years ago. It and the locket around her neck were the only things she had left of her parents. The feel of the quilt beneath her hands comforted her as she sat looking around the room, fighting her rising despair.
The house sat empty like a shell waiting for someone to breathe life into it. It needed a tender hand to warm it and fill it with things to make it a home. Did the two people who’d been living in it all this time need the same thing? Someone to breathe life into them? A tender hand to warm them?
Was she that person? What had she gotten herself into?
The task seemed nearly impossible. Her husband was as prickly as a porcupine in heat. He didn’t want her here. She’d gotten that message loud and clear. Yet as soon as she demanded the marriage be in name only he seemed to take offense at the idea.
And good lord, never in her life had she experienced the full force of an angry man. When he discovered she knew about Rachel, she thought he’d hurt her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knew many who wouldn’t hesitate to lift a hand to the women under their protection, like Claudia’s father. The fact that Nathan’s anger was a protective reaction to his daughter and he’d tempered it quickly spoke volumes about the man. He’d protect his daughter no matter what. No telling what he’d do if he knew his new wife had just brought danger to his doorstep.
Best to keep her problem a secret for now.
“Well, it’s not like I have much choice.” She spoke out loud just to relieve the silence. Either she stayed here with this arrogant man, out of Nigel Blackwood’s reach, or went back East to who knows what kind of demise. There was always the possibility she could go farther west, but she didn’t know a soul with whom to stay.
She patted the pouch sewn into the lining of her skirt and the small bundle of folded bills and small coins inside. Even though she had her own money, she doubted it was enough to survive very long on her own.
With a big breath, she pushed herself off the neatly made bed. Enough dawdling. She had a family to feed now and had best get to it.
In the kitchen she found the woodbin completely filled with firewood. She added several pieces to the fire Nathan had started in the bottom of the stove. Then, searching the icebox, she found a leftover ham, some butter and a crockery pitcher of milk. The pantry next to the stove was stocked with jars of canned vegetables and fruit, dried apples and a bowl of eggs.
Wonder who did the canning?
She doubted it was her husband.
She assumed there was a root cellar somewhere outside. Once she’d read a newspaper story about how many farmers kept root vegetables such as potatoes and carrots in one over the winter months, as well as dried or smoked meats. Tomorrow she’d make a point of asking Nathan to show her its location.
The pantry also contained big tins of flour, sugar, cornmeal, salt and coffee. For a man who didn’t put much effort into cleaning, he certainly kept a well-stocked larder. With two bowls, she measured out the flour and salt then took them to the dry sink next to the stove to make biscuit dough.
Once she had the biscuits ready to slide into the oven, she set them aside to rise. Rubbing the dough off her hands with a towel from a pile she found in a cupboard, she looked around the room. “Now where would he keep the skillets?”
In the lower cupboard she found several sizes of heavy iron pans. In a large one she sliced thick slabs of ham for steaks and in a small one, she sliced several apples and added butter and sugar. Finally, in a side bowl, she broke half a dozen eggs, adding milk and salt for scrambled eggs.
It was a simple meal, but she’d impress her husband with a fancier one after she was sure she’d be staying more than one night. Despite their arrangement, she had the feeling her stay on the farm was tenuous at best.
While the food cooked, she scrubbed down the table. Inside the top cupboard she hunted through the jumble of dishes for three plates, cups and forks that looked as if they’d recently been washed. She set them on the table, along with a plate of butter, then stepped back to survey how it looked.
Anticipation welled up inside her. For years she’d run Aunt Ellen’s boarding house. She’d set fancier tables and produced larger meals for crowds of people. But never had a meal had such an impact on her future. If things worked out well, this could be the first meal in her own home. At least for now.
If not… She shrugged. No use borrowing trouble until it happened.
Just as she removed the biscuits from the oven, the back door opened. She paused to watch Nathan enter carrying a small, raven-haired girl in his arms. About four years old, Laura would guess, Rachel’s eyes were the color of cornflowers but she stood staring off into space, not focusing on anything in particular. The sight of her sucking her thumb tore at Laura’s heart.
The heat of the pan reminded her she still held the biscuits. She set them on the dry sink to cool. When she turned back around, Nathan was taking Rachel’s coat off. The little girl stood perfectly still, neither helping nor hindering her father’s efforts. Finished, he lifted her and sat her at the table.
Laura turned back to the stove, swallowing the lump in her throat. She lifted the platter of ham steaks from the rear of the stove where she’d kept them warm. Walking to the table, she set the platter down slightly out of Rachel’s reach and squatted down next to the chair the little girl sat in so rigidly. With one hand on the back of the chair, she laid the other hand on the table just in front of Rachel. She didn’t let either hand make contact with the small girl, but still gave the impression she embraced her.
“Hello, Rachel,” she said in her quietest voice. “I’m Laura, and I’ve come to stay with you and your daddy for a while. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me right now. I sometimes don’t like to talk to new people either. But if sometime you want to come and sit in my lap or tell me a story, I’ll be right here. Okay?”
Rachel didn’t answer. The slight blink of her eyes was the only response Laura received. She straightened up and lifted her tear-filled eyes to Nathan.
He cleared his throat twice before speaking. “I need to put Blaze in the barn. I should be back in a few minutes for dinner.” He went out the door, letting it slam behind him once more.
Nathan led the stallion into his stall. While he unsaddled him and brushed out his coat, his thoughts centered on the woman he’d known less than a day. His wife.
She’d surprised him all right. He’d expected her to try to smother Rachel with false hugs like so many of the housekeepers he’d hired had done. Knowing how his daughter would react, he’d been prepared to snatch Rachel from her arms the minute the fit started.
Apparently Laura was more sensitive to his daughter’s needs. Somehow she’d known exactly how to handle the problem. Instead of forcing Rachel to accept her presence, she’d simply embraced the space around the little girl, allowing her to know she could depend on her if she wanted.
Damn. Laura might just be able to help Rachel. For that reason alone he’d have to give her a chance.
Finished feeding the roan his dinner, he picked up the lantern and closed the barn door behind him. Outside, he stopped and inhaled deep breaths of cold air, willing himself back into control before he confronted his wife once more.
“Wonder what other surprises she has up her sleeve?” he muttered as he stalked up the path to the porch. He paused outside the window to see how things were going inside.
Rachel sat exactly where he’d left her. That didn’t surprise him at all. The table was set with the platter of ham. Bowls of fried apples, scrambled eggs and biscuits had joined it. Turning so he could view the far side of the kitchen, he saw Laura leaning against the dry sink. Her body shook hard.
What the hell? Was she crying? He hated tears. Kirsten always used them to get her way. He didn’t intend to put up with them out of this wife.
He opened the door and stepped into the room.
Laura stiffened immediately, wiping her hands across her eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
“Is something wrong?” The fire was back in her eyes as she turned to him. “Yes, something’s wrong. I’ve never felt like killing anyone before. But I do believe I could gladly murder the people who did this to Rachel. I don’t care if that’s wrong, it’s how I feel.”
“If it’s any consolation, I did too.” He took off his coat and hung it on the peg by the door, relieved she didn’t throw a tantrum or demand to be taken back to town. The meal smelled delicious and all he wanted to do right now was sit and eat.
Rolling up his sleeves, he moved to the sink opposite the stove to wash up. As he poured water from the pitcher into the bowl, he was surprised to find it warm. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, Laura had thought to warm water for him to wash with, and her tears hadn’t been in self-pity, but righteous indignation for Rachel.
This was a different breed of woman than he was used to handling. He’d best tread carefully in dealing with her.
Nathan sat at the head of the table, Rachel and Laura flanking him. He offered up a small prayer of grace before serving himself. He set one biscuit on his daughter’s plate along with a spoonful of eggs. Rachel didn’t move her head or her hand. She continued staring off in space, sucking her thumb.
“Sarah said she’d be by tomorrow to welcome you.” Nathan handed the eggs to Laura and drew her attention away from his daughter. “I told her that would be fine.”
Laura scooped eggs on her plate. “Sarah is a close friend of yours?”
“Sarah’s late husband was a good friend to me when I first came out here. Tom helped me and my trapping partner Micah learn how to keep from freezing our…behinds off that first winter.” Nathan paused to sip his coffee. Not bad. The woman could cook and make decent coffee.
“What happened to her husband?”
“Three years ago he was escorting settlers further west. They were caught in an Indian raid. Everyone was killed.”
They ate in silence a moment.
“Is Sarah the one who put up those cans of vegetables in the pantry?”
Nathan nodded as he helped himself to seconds on the meal. “When I need canning done at harvest time, I pay Sarah to come out and do it for me. Her oldest son helps with the spring planting and the fall harvest. And when I need to leave Rachel alone, Sarah is the only one who’s been able to care for her.”
Laura sipped her coffee. “May I ask why you just didn’t marry Sarah, then?”
Something in the way she asked her question surprised him. His wife had never met Sarah Jones, but she seemed not to like her. “Sarah’s a good friend, but she’s more like an older sister to me.” After a few more bites, he sat back in his chair. “Why, darlin’? Are you jealous?”
“No, of course not. I was just curious.” She turned her attention to her food, her cheeks pinking at his teasing.
He studied her as she shoved her food around on the plate, not eating much, occasionally sneaking a peek at Rachel.
“Go ahead and eat, Laura. Don’t wait for Rachel. She might eat, she might not. I never know. If she doesn’t, I usually leave her food on the table. Sometime during the night, she finishes it off.”
“Does she wander at night, then?”
Her question sounded curious not fearful. Good. He didn’t want another woman in his home afraid of his daughter. There’d been enough of those.
“She never leaves the house, and as far as I know, the only thing she does is eat her dinner. I’d hoped she’d make an effort tonight. Your cooking is definitely better than mine.” He emphasized these words by helping himself to another biscuit.
When he finished eating, Nathan sat back in his chair once more. “Laura, that was the best meal ever served in this house.”
“Thank you.” She lowered her eyes as if his compliment embarrassed her as much as his teasing had.
When she started to rise to clear the table, he took her hand in his and stopped her. The heat from their touch surprised him and he looked up to see confusion in her eyes as well.
He released her hand and shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Stay. I’d like to know a little more about you.”
She sat and nervously straightened her skirt over her lap. “I do suppose that would be a good idea.”
“Do you have family back East?”
Laura studied her hands. “My parents died of the measles when I was eight years old. I went to live with my aunt and cousin.”
“That was pretty nice of them to take you in and give you a home.”
“Not really. I ended up being an unpaid servant. My aunt owns a boarding house. Before she took me in, she nearly ran it into bankruptcy. I spent my childhood cleaning, cooking and running the business. She threatened to send me to the orphanage if I didn’t. It’s amazing what a child will do to keep a roof over its head.” She pushed her chair from the table and reached for her coat. “So don’t think that I appreciate her kind home. There wasn’t a kind day in it.”
CantrellsBride Page 6
