by Linda Ellen
He started up and she unconsciously smoothed her hair and her skirts for her first face-to-face meeting with the man waiting at the top. Her groom. Her long-awaited husband...
Goodness! She didn’t think she would be so nervous! In spite of everything Sam had told her, and all that Finn had written in his letters—her husband was still a virtual stranger to her. Once again, she hoped she had made the right decision sitting there in the restaurant of the Hotel Victoria. Too late now, she had the duly signed, legal marriage license residing safely inside her reticule.
Then as she came around the last few curving treads, holding the handrail with one hand and her skirts with the other, an upper hallway came into view. It was pleasant, with matching settees and small round tables on either side. Straight ahead was a door that led outside, presumably to what had been the outer staircase.
She reached the landing just as her new husband maneuvered around the corner of the hall on his crutches, an anxious gleam in his eyes.
Having seen him perched in the window and been unable to take her eyes from his, she now felt the exact same way. Heavens to Betsy, he’s handsome. Truly, she was quite pleased with his looks and found herself feeling an instant attraction. She moved forward, and as she neared him, the first thing she realized was the truth of what Sam had said—the brothers looked nothing alike.
Finn was a little shorter and slighter in stature than his brother—but was by no means a small man. On the contrary, he had a nice, fit physique, wide in the shoulders and narrower at the hip. His hair was dark brown and wavy, almost curly, and nearly reached down to his collar. He had a fine masculine nose, a strong brow and chin, straight, white teeth, and midnight blue eyes, which were twinkling just then with a look that probably mirrored her own expression—pleased. Delicious tingles seemed to be racing up and down her spine as she allowed her eyes to drink their fill of Mr. Phineas Maynard.
Sam shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his feet, watching the brand new couple assess one another.
“Charise...meet Finn...your husband...the one I stood in proxy for...” He prompted, but neither moved.
“Finn, this here’s your new wife,” he tried again, but Finn merely stared as if transfixed.
Finally, Sam nudged his brother playfully. “Well, brother of mine—she’s come over six hundred miles for ya. Get your head out of the clouds and greet her proper-like!”
Finn gave his brother a glance and cleared his throat, seeming to realize he had been staring. His cheeks even seemed a bit pink. Charise watched as he let go of his crutches and reached out to take her hand.
She moved hers to accept and when their fingers touched...a tingle shimmered up her arm at the contact.
Then, just as she opened her mouth to say hello—with a yelp, he fell flat on the floor at her feet!
Chapter 5
“F inn!” Charise squealed. “Good heavens, are you all right? Did you hurt your leg? Oh Sam, help him up, oh my goodness,” his wife fretted on and on as her hands fluttered around him in near panic, only making Finn feel like a clumsy idiot.
Son of a b—bacon bit! What a way to meet my bride, Finn fumed as his brother helped him up off the floor, amidst Sam’s chuckles and Charise’s continued fussing.
“I’m all right, dag nabbit,” he grumbled, unconsciously batting his bride’s hands away as Sam hauled him upright, holding on as he steadied himself on his good leg. “Just lost my balance, is all,” he added, hating that he was so helpless. He felt downright unmanned! Blast this stupid cast! He chanced a look at her face from under his lashes, but all he saw in her expression was concern. Still...
Why, oh why, did her first encounter with me have to consist of me making a darn fool out of myself, while she looks like a gorgeous gem, travel dust and all? And what was that...that tingle I felt when her fingers touched mine? Like the air crackling just before a lightning strike. Huh, yeah, lightning struck all right—knocked my feet right out from under me.
“Here, Sam, help him over to the settee,” Charise instructed, making sure the cushions were out of the way while watching anxiously as Sam lowered Finn to the soft surface and positioned his cast just so.
“Brother, you scared ten years off my life with that little stunt,” Sam huffed as he stood back. “You sure you’re all right?”
Finn silently cursed the embarrassed heat he could feel infusing his face.
“Yeah. Unfortunately, that ain’t the first time I tried to move and fell flat on my face,” he admitted as he scrubbed his hands over his cheeks. He chanced another look at his bride when he felt her warmth as she sat down beside him.
She smiled softly. “Hello Finn. It seems an age that we’ve been waiting to meet...and now...” she paused and he watched as she scanned his face, her eyes trailing down his body to the heavy encumbrance of cast—extending all the way from his ankle to mid thigh—and back to his face. Reaching out with a delicate hand, she touched his cheek. “Although Sam told me about the cast, somehow I hadn’t imagined it to be quite so large. Are you sure you are fine? You didn’t do...more damage?”
He managed a small smile as he lifted a hand and gently grasped hers, cocooning it between his own. Was he imagining it, or did he feel sparks every time they touched?
“Yeah, I’m fine. Doc said he made the stupid thing extra big and heavy because he knew I’d try and get around too soon.” Remembering his actions during bouts of frustration, such as starting down the stairs, only to become wedged in place, forcing himself to be in need of rescue, he emitted a self-deprecating snicker and shook his head. “I hate that he was right.”
Sam sat down on the opposite settee and chuckled. “He knows how you are, all right. No doubt he remembers that time you broke your arm fallin’ out of old man Varner’s apple tree—and then climbed it again, with a cast on your arm, and fell out again.”
Finn flung a glare at his brother. “Stuff a sock in it, Sam. You’ll make Charise here think she’s married a chowderhead or somethin’.”
Sam’s head fell back with a guffaw and he ran a hand over his mustache and beard as if he were trying to control his mirth. Giving Finn that familiar older brother look that was both affectionate and teasing, he quipped, “Well, ain’t ya?”
“You forget why I climbed that tree?”
Sam had the grace to flush a bit and look down. “Naw, I didn’t forget. Not that you’d ever let me forget.”
Charise looked back and forth between the men, one eyebrow rising in question. The brothers glanced at her and both pressed their lips shut, neither one willing to be one to spill the beans and explain.
Finn watched as his new wife sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Dang, she’s lovely. I can’t believe she’s actually my wife! He allowed his eyes to roam over her, starting with her lustrous, walnut brown hair, a few strands of which were coming loose from its long braid, and peeking out from under a smart hat that matched the color of her outfit. She had dark, defined eyebrows that framed chocolate brown eyes, which were fringed with black lashes. A straight nose and soft pink lips, which were now pursed in thought, complimented her smooth peaches and cream cheeks.
Then, she gave them both the eye, just like Ma Maynard used to do. “One of you want to tell me what this big reason was?” she murmured. Then, when neither one was forthcoming with information, she turned her stare Sam’s way. “Sam?”
Finn was surprised Sam broke so easily, as he watched his brother reach up to tug at his collar before clearing his throat. “Aw, Charise, it’s like this...” he paused with a huff. “I’d kinda...borrowed a kite from another kid...”
“Yeah,” Finn interrupted, “Borrowed, only he didn’t know about it. Not only that, it was the kid’s birthday present and he and Sam used to get in scraps all the time—”
“Shut up, I’m tellin’ this,” Sam grumbled. Finn just grinned at him. “Anyway, it flew up into the branches of the tree and stuck there. Finny here, well, he climbed up to get it fo
r me, but he fell before he reached it. Then that evening after all the hullaballoo of fixin’ Finn’s arm and all...that kid’s pa came to the house and told our pa that he knew I took his boy’s new kite and he wanted it back.” Sam paused and winced. “After he left, pa gave me the lickin’ of my life and said I’d better get the kite back to the kid by the next mornin’ or I’d be in even more hot water...so, Finn climbed up there again. He got it that time...but comin’ back down, he fell from the last branch. That time he didn’t break anything, though,” he added with a glint in his eyes as he met Charise’s gaze.
She gave a nod, one eyebrow scrunched as she scrutinized the brothers. “All right. But...why didn’t you climb up there and get it yourself?”
Enjoying himself, Finn relaxed back against the cushions and watched his brother squirm. “Yeah, Sam. Tell Charise why you didn’t climb up there yourself.”
Sam mumbled an off color word and glared at Finn as he mumbled, “’Cause I’m afraid of heights.”
Finn’s new wife sent a smile Sam’s way as her tension eased a bit. “I can understand that...I don’t fancy high places much myself. But I have to admit, Sam...” she paused and met Finn’s amused eyes before turning back to his brother. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
Sam sat up a little straighter, puffing his chest out and sticking his bewhiskered chin forward a bit. “I’m not. ’Cept being up high,” he admitted with a sheepish snicker.
Charise laughed at that, and Finn found himself enjoying her merriment. It wasn’t an obnoxious cackle nor a childish giggle...more like a honeyed, dulcet tone, almost music to his ears. Something in the back of his heart knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh, just so he could enjoy the sound. No. Not only for that reason, but because her being happy will make me happy, as well. He felt it, deep down in his bones. She moved a bit to get comfortable and he felt a shimmer of awareness skitter across his skin. Whew!
She chuckled again at something Sam said, but ruminating as he’d been about her looks and her sweet laughter, he’d missed it. She and Sam...they seemed like close friends already. Like sister and brother. Like...
As Finn sat looking back and forth between the two, absently rubbing his good knee that had taken the brunt of his fall as he watched his brother and his wife interact, he had to bite back a rush of green-eyed jealousy as thoughts from the previous week came flooding back to him...my brother already knows my wife far better than I do...
They’d been talking for over an hour. The guys had been regaling her with stories of their boyhood in Brownville, when the town was a newly wrought hamlet of only a dozen cabins and a few small places of business, and she had enjoyed every minute.
But now, Charise discreetly covered a yawn as the events of the last five days—and most specifically the past hour—caught up with her. She desperately needed to find a bed and fall into it for a good night’s sleep that consisted of stillness and quiet, rather than rolling and pitching, ceaseless movement, and relentless noise.
Finn glanced her way and noticed. “Aww honey, I’m sorry. We’ve been sitting here jawing and you’re about dead on your feet,” he lamented. She tried to wave away his concern, but another yawn chose that moment to take over. Sam laughed at her attempts to conceal it.
“I think our girl here has had enough. Finn, want me to give her a quick tour of your quarters—” he stopped as Finn seemed to bristle.
“I can do it,” her husband stated baldly. At her and Sam’s startled expressions, he offered a crooked smile. “I promise, no more falling flat on my face. I can get around up here if I’m careful.”
The two brother’s eyes locked and held and Sam seemed to get a silent message; after which he clapped his hands on his knees and announced, “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then, and get on home and make sure my mill is still in one piece.”
Getting to his feet, he reached out and took Charise’s hand as she stood. “Welcome to your new home, sister-in-law. I enjoyed the trip—but I admit, it’s nice to be home—and not inside a big, rolling, fire breathing, smoke belching monster anymore.”
She laughed at his description. “I wholeheartedly agree.” Then feeling a rush of affection for her affable brother-in-law, she rose up on tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his burly cheek. “Thank you, Sam, for being the best escort a bride could ask for—not to mention...” she paused and gave Finn a mischievous twinkle, “a wonderful proxy groom.”
Sam seemed to turn a bit pink in the cheeks at that, cleared his throat, and mumbled something about coming by the next day to check on them before disappearing down the winding steps.
And with that—she was alone with her new husband.
Time passed slowly as they peered into one another’s eyes, each extremely conscious of the fact that they were, for all intents and purposes, married. Charise wasn’t exactly sure what Finn expected or what he had planned for this, their first night as a married couple. She studied his expression as he sat up on the settee, carefully resting his casted leg against the floor.
Finn seemed to be able to read her unspoken question, as he smiled softly and reached over to grasp one of her hands.
“Um...” he began, moistening his lips as if he were trying to choose the right words. “I want to thank you, for agreeing to the proxy marriage and for becoming my wife—without even meeting me first. I want you to know that, once I’m on my feet again, I’d like to have a ceremony and repeat our vows—to one another. I know you had a wedding dress all made and all, but didn’t get to use it...” he paused, looking deeply into her eyes. “Would you like that?”
She relaxed a smidgen and smiled. “Yes, I’d like that very much, and I’d hoped you’d feel that way. I’m afraid the solemnizing wasn’t much of a ceremony back home...just a judge having us repeat some words. I admit that I was so nervous, I hardly remember anything I said,” she added with a soft chuckle.
They remained as they were for a few moments, each deep in thought. And then Finn said, “Well, would you like to see your new home, Mrs. Maynard?”
She answered with a nod and stepped back to give him room as he took hold of his crutches, set his good leg firmly under him, and hefted himself up. Once he was balanced, he inclined his head to indicate for her to precede him, instructing her to turn right at the end of the entry hall.
“I don’t know how much Sam told you about this building...” he began, and she answered over one shoulder, “Only that it used to be a tavern.”
She noted he kept careful attention to his movements as he followed her, conveying with another nod for her to walk to a door at the end of a hallway that ran from the front to the back of the building. “That’s right. And this floor was the hotel for the town.”
“The hotel?” she asked, and he laughed.
“Small, I know, but it’s true. But then, Brownville was quite small at the time it was built...in ’60. I acquired the building six months ago and I’ve been slowly converting it. This room at the end I turned into a kitchen,” he explained as she stepped through the doorway. Straight ahead was a backdoor to the outside and what must be the back porch Sam had mentioned, to the right of that stood a round table with some sort of green felt cloth on it, surrounded by four chairs—which Finn explained with a snicker had been one of the saloon’s poker tables—a cast iron cook stove, a cupboard for dishes, pans and other necessities, and a large shelf for foodstuffs.
She walked on in, examining everything and finding it quite adequate, with plenty of light from good-sized windows on each end. With a contented sigh, she turned and saw him observing her, so she blessed him with a smile. “This is wonderful. You should have seen the tiny kitchenette in the apartment that Beth Ann and I shared back home—just a corner of the parlor, really, with a small cook stove and table with two chairs. I feel like I’m in a mansion here,” she added with a grin. He grinned back, obviously pleased with her response. But then a bit of a shadow spread over his eyes and he glanced aroun
d.
“Well, you can decorate it, or rearrange things, however suits you. This is your home now, too. I want you to be happy here. Give it that...woman’s touch,” he offered and she gave a nod, intuitively knowing that her still calling Louisville home had bothered him a bit and she made a mental note to try and curb that habit.
Carefully turning to the right, he gestured for her to come with him and to open the door to the room next to the kitchen. Inside she saw a large, comfortable looking Empire settee with butter yellow velvet upholstery, a rocking chair, small table, along with several other items, and a brick fireplace on the far end. “This is the parlor.” At her nod, he ushered her toward the next room down the hall.
“The hotel had six rooms to rent. One large one at the front of the building and five smaller ones,” he explained. “I don’t much use the front three right now, just have stuff stored in them. This room here is my...our bedroom.”
She felt a tingle shoot through her veins at that word and the imaginings it conjured up as she opened the door to a pleasant room, the setting sun shining through a set of plain blue curtains and casting a warm glow over the double bed in the center. Several pieces of furniture took up the adjacent walls, including a chest with drawers, a large armoire, and a rocking chair. A potbelly stove sat ready in the corner. Covering the bed was a handmade patchwork quilt in dark blues, browns, and greens.
“My ma made the quilt for me when I got my first place...” he stopped and cleared his throat.
“It’s very nice,” Charise complimented as he gave a nod and smiled. She sensed he was feeling as anxious as she was.
They stood staring into one another’s eyes, hearts pounding, and then Finn cleared his throat again. “Um...about tonight...” he began, and she moistened suddenly dry lips as he continued, “I’ve thought a lot about it and I figured...we don’t have to hurry things. I mean, we can wait...get to know one another better before we...well, you know,” he mumbled and Charise felt herself blush. He went on, “Besides...I’d like to wait until I can sweep you off your feet—on my own two feet—before we...”
