Blackstone's Bride

by Teresa Southwick

“You want to talk to Abby alone, don’t you, Uncle Jarrod?”

  He grinned slowly, sheepishly. It was the first time since he’d come in the room that he relaxed even slightly. He walked over to the young girl and tenderly rubbed the back of his knuckles along her cheek. “I guess when I can’t fool you like the others, you’re growing up and becoming a young lady.”

  “I am?” she asked, brightening.

  He nodded. “I’m not sure I like it. But every day it’s more clear that I can’t stop it.”

  “No, sir,” she said.

  “Yes, I’d like to talk to Abby alone.”

  Lily tipped her head to the side as she toyed nervously with a strand of brown hair. “If I’m a young lady, why can’t I stay and hear what you’re going to say? I know it has something to do with that man.”

  “It does. But I don’t want to upset you.”

  “Young ladies don’t get upset unless they’re sent out of the room.”

  “This is adult talk.” He lifted her chin. “You’re not past being a young lady yet.”

  “But—”

  Abby folded her arms over her chest. “Lily, please don’t argue. Your uncle asked you to help Mr. Cochran with the other children.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lily heaved a big sigh as she shuffled to the door, proving beyond a doubt that she had one foot still firmly planted in childhood.

  When the door was closed behind her, Jarrod gave Abby a serious look. “Do you know how to use a gun?” he asked.

  “Yes. Mr. Whittemore wouldn’t let me make deliveries for Hollister Freight until he was certain I could handle a rifle and pistol.”

  “Good,” Jarrod answered approvingly.

  “Do you think I’ll need a gun?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. And I’d sure as hell hate to look back and say ‘if only.’”

  “You think he’d harm the children?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him to take them at gunpoint. But no, I don’t believe he would actually hurt them.”

  “Not unless it was in the name of discipline,” she muttered, glaring at the back door as if it were Rafe Donovan.

  “What was that?”

  “He thought a good licking would stop Oliver’s accidents on the way to the outhouse,” she said, her tone full of disgust.

  “If he lays a hand on those kids, ever, I’ll—What are you grinning at?”

  “I was remembering their first day here, when you took Tom into your study and I was worried that you believed in spare the rod and spoil the child. You’d never touch one of them in punishment. Would you?”

  He shrugged, then gave her a grin that sent her heart skidding all the way to her toes. “Don’t spread it around.”

  Her smile faded as the seriousness of the situation came back to her. “He hasn’t any idea how to be a loving father. It would be the worst thing in the world for them. I couldn’t stand it if—We can’t let him have them.”

  “We?” His expression was intense, expectant.

  “If you still want to—” She stood as tall as she could in front of him and met his determined look with one of her own. “I’ll marry you, Jarrod.”

  15

  Two days later, Abby waited upstairs in Reverend Taylor’s spare bedroom. A bouquet of Henrietta Schafer’s white roses filled her hands. She was grateful for her friend’s flowers, and enjoyed their beauty and sweet, perfumed fragrance. But mostly she was thankful because holding them prevented her from nervously twisting her fingers together while she waited to go downstairs and become Jarrod Blackstone’s bride.

  She checked her appearance in the mirror mounted on the wall above the pine dresser. Her long-sleeved, high-necked, pale blue cotton dress was simple and plain. But she thought the color suited her. Bea Peters had helped with her hair, sweeping the red curls on top of her head with wisps at her temples and a few on her forehead. The style made her neck look long and slender and her blue eyes huge. Or maybe the dark circles beneath them did that.

  She hadn’t slept much since agreeing to this marriage. “It’s for the children,” she said to her reflection. “It’s temporary.”

  Jarrod didn’t want any more than that, and she was in complete agreement with him. That’s all there is to it, she told herself, hoping to silence the small, insistent voice that haunted her at night. The one that kept her awake, taunting her with thoughts of what a real marriage to Jarrod Blackstone might be like.

  A soft knock on the door startled her, making her heart pound as if she’d run a mile. “Come in,” she called.

  Bea Peters and Henrietta Schafer walked into the room, beaming at her.

  Henrietta pressed her clasped hands to her chest as her gaze traveled from the top of Abby’s head to the hem of her dress. “You’re pretty as a picture. I wish your mama could be here to see the way you look.”

  “And Clint.” Tears gathered in Abby’s throat and she didn’t trust herself to say any more.

  “Just wait until Jarrod sees you,” Bea said.

  “You don’t think he’ll be disappointed?” Abby asked anxiously.

  She told herself the only reason she cared how she looked was because this marriage had to appear real to everyone. Her need to please Jarrod was nothing more than playing her part.

  “Disappointed?” Henrietta laughed. “That man’ll think he died and went to heaven.”

  “Everything’s ready downstairs, dear,” Bea said. “The reverend is waiting.”

  “Let’s go,” Abby said, taking a deep breath.

  She left the bedroom after the two women and waited at the top of the staircase until they had descended. When she heard Mrs. Taylor playing the piano, she started down, holding her flowers in one hand and the railing with the other. Carefully, she took each step on shaky legs until she reached the wood floor at the bottom. From there she could see into the front room, where Bea and Henrietta had taken their places to the right of the clergyman.

  The children were there and all dressed up for the occasion. Lily looked quite the young lady in her green organdy. Katie wore the same color and had matching ribbons in her blond curls. Tom and Oliver wore wool suits and looked terribly uncomfortable as they fidgeted and ran their fingers around their tight collars.

  Then there was Jarrod.

  He looked so handsome in his suit, Abby’s breath caught. His gaze lifted to her hair then slid downward, taking in every detail of her appearance. He certainly didn’t look disappointed. His expression, eyes glowing with admiration, filled her with elation.

  No man had ever looked at her that way before. It didn’t matter why they were here, or what would happen later. She wished she could freeze this moment in time and hold it forever in her heart. She pleased him. That made her unexpectedly happy.

  While she stood in the doorway, hesitating, Jarrod came to meet her. With an approving smile, he held out his arm, and she placed her shaking hand in the crook of his elbow.

  He covered her cold fingers with his own warm ones and squeezed reassuringly. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered, stirring the hair near her ear. Tingles raced down her neck and settled in her breasts. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  When she nodded he led her into the room, stopping before the reverend. The children gathered around, the girls beside Abby, the boys next to Jarrod.

  Oliver peeked past Jarrod’s long legs and looked at her. “You look pretty, Abby,” he said in a loud whisper.

  Tom elbowed him. “Shhh.”

  He looked up at his uncle. “Is this like church, Uncle Jarrod? Do I hafta be quiet?”

  “That’s up to the preacher. Reverend?” he asked.

  The balding man with twinkling blue eyes looked at Oliver over the half glasses resting on the end of his nose. “When I’m talking, you have to be quiet, or I can’t marry your uncle and Abby. You want them to be married, don’t you, Oliver?”

  The boy nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir. Then I’ll have a ma and a pa.”

  Abby must have jerked, becau
se she felt Jarrod press her hand again. She glanced up into his gray eyes. Without words he told her not to worry. The most important thing was to keep custody of the children, no matter what happened later. They were doing the right thing.

  “Abby? Jarrod? Shall I begin?” the reverend asked.

  With Jarrod’s reassuring presence next to her, Abby answered the cleric’s question. “Yes, Reverend Taylor.”

  He opened the good book and began to read. “Marriage is a holy state, and not one to be entered into lightly. We are gathered together in the sight of God …”

  Numbed by fatigue and anxiety, Abby didn’t hear the words. But the warmth and scent of the man beside her made her feel safe for reasons she couldn’t explain. Her stomach fluttered, a sensation that was starting to feel like an old friend. Jarrod already knew that she was attracted to him. She couldn’t deny it to herself. The question was how she was going to keep her feelings from growing beyond her control.

  “Do you, Jarrod Blackstone, take Abigail Miller to be your lawful wife?”

  The sound of her name wrenched Abby from her thoughts. Jarrod’s slow half smile sent her heart pounding against her ribs.

  “I do,” he said, his voice deep, confident.

  Reverend Taylor looked at Abby, holding her attention. “Do you, Abigail Miller, take Jarrod Blackstone to be your wedded husband, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death do you part?”

  She hesitated for a second, thinking carefully about what she was promising.

  Beside Jarrod, Oliver shuffled his feet as he clutched his privates. “Hurry up and say yes, Abby. I gotta go.”

  “Abby?” the reverend asked.

  She glanced at Jarrod, who nodded his encouragement. “I do,” she said.

  “Promises have been exchanged and accepted. Are there rings?” he asked.

  Abby and Jarrod looked at each other. They’d had so much on their minds, they hadn’t even thought about that.

  Jarrod cleared his throat. “No rings. We’ll take care of that later.”

  Reverend Taylor continued. “Then with the powers vested in me by the Lord and the great state of California, I now pronounce you man and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” For a moment he looked from one to the other expectantly. When nothing happened, he said, “You may kiss your bride.”

  Jarrod grinned down at Abby. “Mrs. Blackstone—”

  The last coherent thought Abby had before his mouth claimed hers was that every last person in that room must be able to hear her heart thumping in her chest. Then his warm lips moved gently on her own, and she didn’t think she’d notice or care if the roof fell in. She lost herself in the feel of his arms wrapped around her, pressing her tightly to his chest until she could hardly breathe. She could have stayed that way forever.

  “Abby.” Oliver tugged on her skirt. “I gotta go.”

  When Jarrod released her mouth, she blinked several times, struggling to regain control. “Tom?” she said, her voice hoarse. “Go with him, and be sure you watch him.”

  Thoughts of Rafe Donovan were never far from her mind. Since their arrival in Hollister, they hadn’t seen him. But they knew he hadn’t left town.

  “I’ll take ‘im,” Tom grumbled.

  Katie tugged on Abby’s skirt. “What did he mean by the last thing he said?” she asked, pointing at the cleric.

  “What did he say, sweetie?”

  “About putting us under. What’s he gonna put over us?”

  “He said asunder, Katie.”

  “What did he mean?” Worried green eyes met her own.

  “That your uncle and I are together and no one should separate us.” Something tugged hard inside Abby, a lump that settled in her chest somewhere between guilt and conscience.

  “Good,” Katie said, her curls bouncing as she nodded fervently. Her smile was radiant. “I like asunder.”

  “So do I, Katie.”

  Reverend Taylor put a hand on Katie’s shoulder. “Would you like to come into the kitchen with Mrs. Taylor and me? We could use some help with refreshments.”

  “Yes, sir,” the little girl said eagerly.

  When Katie had left with the older couple, Lily stood shyly in front of Abby, then hugged her quickly. She pulled back, then said, “I don’t know what to call you. Aunt Abby?”

  Oh, Lord, Abby thought, glancing up at Jarrod beside her. She hadn’t expected anything to change, especially not so soon. She had been wrong. Now she was family by marriage.

  “You can call her Abby, just like you’ve been doing,” Jarrod said. “That okay with you, Abby?”

  “Fine.”

  “All right,” Lily agreed.

  Bea and Henrietta came over, each dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “Congratulations, Jarrod. Abby,” Bea said, looking from one to the other. “I had no idea when I cooked up that plan with the children that my matchmaking would actually be successful. I’m very happy for you two.”

  She hugged Jarrod for what Abby thought was a little longer than necessary.

  Jarrod grinned down at Bea as his arm encircled Abby’s waist and pulled her close against him. “It never would have worked unless we were meant to be together. Right, Abby?”

  He squeezed her until her breast pressed into his side.

  Irritation flashed through her as she decided he was playing his part with far more fervor than she thought was necessary. Two could play that game.

  “Yes, sweetheart,” she said, noting with satisfaction the way he looked at her questioningly. “This marriage was meant to be.”

  Oliver and Tom came back into the room, and the younger boy ran over to them. “Abby, I wanna spend the night with the Shemanskis.”

  Abby bent down to meet his eyes. “We settled this earlier. We’re going to stay in the boardinghouse, the way we always do.”

  Henrietta cleared her throat. “Abby, Jarrod, this all happened so fast, I didn’t have time to get you a gift. So I took the liberty of makin’ arrangements for the children to stay with friends. I’m givin’ you a weddin’ night. Best room in the boarding ‘house, on me.”

  As the words sank in, Abby’s eyes grew bigger. She had two choices: refuse the kind offer and show everyone that the marriage was a fake, or spend the night alone with Jarrod.

  Abby was grateful when Jarrod spoke up. Her own throat was too dry to form words.

  “Thanks, Hettie. We appreciate that a lot. Don’t we, honey?” he said, looking down at her.

  “We sure do. But Oliver, I don’t know if you can stay with Matt Shemanski. Doesn’t he have the chicken pox?”

  Bea Peters nodded. “Annie’s had her hands full. First one got sick, and they’ve been dropping like flies ever since.”

  She brushed the blond hair from Oliver’s forehead. “You’re going to stay with me.”

  “Aw, Bea. I don’t wanna stay with you!”

  “Don’t be rude, Oliver. Wasn’t it nice of Bea to offer to take you in?” Abby asked.

  The little boy looked down at his shoes and mumbled, “I reckon. But she won’t make a fort with me out of blankets ‘n’ stuff. Even Tom plays with me better’n she does.”

  Abby glanced apologetically at the older woman, who shook her head, indicating she understood Oliver’s reluctance.

  Abby looked at Jarrod. “I guess that settles it. He’ll have to stay with us tonight.”

  “Not on your life.” Henrietta frowned. “A couple only gets one weddin’ night. It’s gotta be special. That doesn’t include having a willful four-year-old with ya. Y’hear me, Oliver? You can stay with me. In Joe’s room. He’ll build you a fort the likes of which you’ve never seen. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes’m,” the boy said eagerly.

  Henrietta smiled with satisfaction. “It’s all settled, then.”

  “Where’s Lily staying?” Jarrod asked, his eyes narrowing. “Joe doesn’t have enough room for her too, does he, Hettie?”

&nbs
p; Bea touched his arm reassuringly. “Lily and Tom and Katie are staying with me.”

  “Good.”

  Reverend and Mrs. Taylor came in with a bottle of champagne and glasses. He smiled at his wife. “Clara’s sister sent this to us and we’ve been waiting for a special occasion to open it. We’re very fond of Abby and decided this is the right time.”

  When the glasses were handed out all around, the reverend lifted his and cleared his throat. “To Abby and Jarrod Blackstone. May they have a long and happy life together.”

  Abby downed her drink in one gulp. The bubbles tickled her throat. The words pricked her conscience.

  The night ahead would be punishment for her deceit.

  Jarrod unlocked the door to their room and let Abby precede him inside. He was concerned about her. She’d gone from pale as a sheet after finding out the children wouldn’t be with them tonight to pink as a rose from champagne. Now her back was to him as she walked to the quilt-covered bed. She was so tense, she walked like a board with feet.

  He turned the key to lock them inside. In the silent room, the sound was as loud as a gunshot and he saw Abby flinch.

  “I didn’t know things would work out like this, Abby. I’m sorry.” He lit the lantern on the dresser.

  She turned to him. “It’s not your fault. The question is what we do now. I’m too keyed up to sleep, and it’s barely sundown.”

  “We could play cards.” He looked at her sheepishly. “If we had a deck. I guess sending down to the Watering Hole for one wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

  “Why not?” she asked innocently as she sat on the bed.

  “Because folks don’t expect us to play poker on our wedding night.”

  “Oh.” She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them.

  He wished she would get off that bed. It was far too easy to picture her lying back on that mattress, her red hair spread around her like fire. He could almost see her body—naked, soft, sensuous, the sheets caressing her skin as he longed to do. Curling his fingers into his palms, he reminded himself he had given his word that they would have a marriage in name only. He wouldn’t go back on it. But how would he find the strength he needed to keep his promise when he’d wanted her since she brought the children to the ranch?