His Forbidden Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch (Spicy Version) Book 7)

by Merry Farmer

  “Yeah, just like she runs off and marries a…a most unsuitable man to get attention too,” Melinda added.

  “I don’t think she always does it to get attention,” Bebe added quietly.

  “Shut up, Bebe,” Vivian and Melinda said in unison.

  That was enough to shock Honoria out of her coughing. She blinked, glancing from Vivian and Melinda to Bebe, standing one step behind him. “Oh, Bebe, no,” she sighed.

  “What?” Bebe’s back snapped straight, and she imitated Vivian and Melinda’s haughty glare.

  Wincing, Honoria said, “I’m afraid you’ll find out all too soon.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Bebe deflated somewhat.

  “How dare you steal my thunder?” Vivian barked before Honoria could answer. “That was supposed to be my wedding day.”

  “It was,” Honoria answered plainly.

  “Yes, but all anyone could talk about was you,” Melinda said.

  Vivian swatted her. Melinda yelped in protest.

  “You conspired to undermine me right from the beginning, I suspect,” Vivian said.

  “I swear to you, Vivian, it was no conspiracy.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She turned her face half away from Honoria.

  For a flash of an instant, Honoria caught sight of a round, purple mark on her neck under her high collar. She’d once spied the same sort of mark on the neck of one of their classmates after a boy had been kissing her there.

  Vivian caught her staring and instantly slapped a hand to her neck. Her face went red with shame and misery. Uncomfortable pieces of a matrimonial picture started to come together in Honoria’s mind, and that picture looked very different from what she’d experienced with Solomon the night before.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry, Vivian,” she murmured softly, feeling completely out of her depth.

  “What?” Vivian growled.

  For all the misery Vivian had inflicted on her life, Honoria still felt horrible that whatever her sister had experienced on her wedding night hadn’t been enjoyable. She had to help in some way. “It…it’s really quite wonderful if you let it be,” she fumbled.

  Melinda and Bebe’s faces went bright red. Vivian’s paled even further, taking on a decidedly green hue. “How dare you?” Vivian seethed. Her gaze flickered to Corva, and she took a step closer to wedge her out of the conversation. “How dare you suggest something so filthy and vile in public?”

  “I only meant that—”

  “I’m not surprised that you would disgrace yourself by doing that with a man that is little better than an ape!”

  Honoria’s mouth dropped open. Her hand was halfway raised to slap Vivian the way she’d wanted to for years before sense and decorum got the better of her. She couldn’t care less what Vivian said about her. She’d been saying much worse for years. But to insult Solomon—a kind, caring, sensitive gentleman—was too much. She fought back with the sharpest weapon she had.

  “I’m not the one who is defective when it comes to the most important duty of a wife.”

  Instantly, she felt horrible. Not just because of the shock on Melinda and Bebe’s face, but because her insult hit its mark hard. Vivian’s face pinched to misery and shame, and for the first time in her life, Honoria thought she was on the verge of watching her sister break down into real tears that weren’t designed to get her something.

  “Vivian, I’m sor—”

  “You’d better watch your back.” Before Honoria could apologize, Vivian’s fury had returned tenfold. She poked a finger into Honoria’s arm, hurting as acutely as a bee sting. “Papa is angrier than I’ve ever seen him before.”

  “I’m sure.” Honoria lowered her head, not in defeat, but because it seemed the safest way to deflect Vivian’s spite.

  “No.” Vivian swayed closer to her still, so close that Honoria had to arch her back to keep from being spit on. “You don’t know the half of it. I’ve never seen him like this. He hasn’t stopped shouting about how far you’ve fallen and how shamefully you’ve disgraced yourself by running into that man’s arms.” She narrowed her eyes. “And now I can tell him how eagerly you flopped onto your back in his bed.”

  Honoria fought not to lose her balance as Vivian brought her face so close that their noses touched.

  “Papa will kill him.”

  The words reverberated so deeply into Honoria’s soul that she stumbled back, only barely catching herself before she fell over. The moment was made worse as she launched into a wracking cough that left her gasping for breath.

  Vivian, for her part, had straightened, crossed her arms, and watched her with undisguised malice. Melinda’s expression mirrored the spite in Vivian’s. Bebe was trying to look just as vicious, but genuine worry ruined her attempt.

  “Ladies, you shouldn’t say such things,” Corva commented from the side.

  “They’re true,” Melinda said with deadly seriousness, continuing to stare at Honoria.

  It took Honoria far longer than it ever had to recover from her coughing spell. She clutched at her chest and had to accept Corva’s help to remain upright. A huge part of her wanted to argue that their father was not that sort of man, that he wouldn’t resort to murder simply because he was angry. But she knew him too well. She knew his temper and she knew his prejudices. She’d married Solomon because she wanted a few moments of happiness before she died, but she hadn’t stopped to consider that she might be taking Solomon to the grave with her.

  “We have shopping to do,” Vivian said at last tilting her head and putting on a vicious smile as though she’d won some game. “Come on, Melinda. You too, Bebe.”

  Melinda looked at Honoria down her nose, then “hmphed,” and followed Vivian into Kline’s mercantile. Bebe took longer to follow. She stared at Honoria with an open mouth, worry furrowing her brow.

  “I don’t think he’s really capable of killing anyone,” she said quickly, gulping at the end.

  “I don’t either,” Honoria said.

  But she only said that to comfort her youngest sister. In her heart, she knew her father was capable of murder if the victim was Solomon.

  Chapter 7

  The only thing out of the ordinary at the bank that day was the fact that Solomon couldn’t pay attention to his work to save his life. Every set of numbers he tried to figure tangled up and faded away as he indulged in daydreams of his new wife.

  Honoria was everything he could ever have hoped for and more. She’d touched his heart years ago with her kind disposition and her endurance in the face of a family that treated her shamefully, but he never would have guessed at her boldness or her willingness to learn about everything from cookery to passion.

  He sat at his desk in the back of the bank, gazing into nothing as he remembered how eagerly she’d responded to his touch, how freely she had given voice to her pleasure, and how lovingly she’d accepted him. The very memory of the night did things to him physically that he would do best to fight against. The bank wasn’t crowded, but it was a public place.

  His thoughts were still soaring as he strode home that evening, his steps faster than usual.

  “You gonna stop in for a drink?” Sam called from the door to the saloon as Solomon passed. The clever grin he wore betrayed that his question wasn’t serious, that he knew the answer.

  “Not when I have a beautiful wife waiting for me,” Solomon called back. He tipped his hat and went on his way, a little bit of a strut in his walk.

  Every ounce of sunshine that had filled his soul all day crashed when he walked through his front door only to find Honoria sitting hunched up in a ball on the stairs.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He rushed to her, reaching out to take her in his arms as she stood. The terrible thought that her illness was suddenly much worse when he had secretly thought she seemed so much better struck him.

  “Oh, Solomon, I’m so worried.” She threw her arms around him and buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Worrie
d?” He embraced her tightly. As much as he wanted to reassure her, there were a thousand things she could be justifiably worried about.

  It was a few more moments until her breathing calmed and she lifted her head to say, “I ran into my sisters in town earlier.”

  Solomon frowned. “Why would they all be in town after Vivian’s wedding yesterday?”

  A sweet blush came to Honoria’s cheeks and she lowered her eyes. “Apparently Vivian didn’t enjoy her wedding night as much as I did.”

  In spite of the other implication, Solomon’s chest swelled with pride.

  “But that’s not what worries me,” she rushed on before he could make any sort of silly, vain comment about her enjoying him. The way Honoria’s blushed drained away, leaving her pale with anxiety meant it was no time for jokes. “Papa isn’t happy with me.”

  “I expect not.” He shifted so that he could rest his hand on the side of her face, running a comforting thumb over her cheek. “There’s nothing he can do to us. Our marriage is legal in Haskell, thanks to Howard’s forward thinking. He can’t force you to go home.” He finished his reassurance with a light kiss.

  Honoria didn’t look relieved. In fact, her misery appeared to have doubled. She was having a hard time meeting his eyes. “There are far worse things Papa could do than try to have our marriage dissolved.”

  The way she spoke, the tension in her shoulders, the race of the pulse in her neck so near to his fingers…he wasn’t fool enough to miss what that could mean.

  “I’ve faced more than my fair share of prejudice, Honoria,” he told her seriously. “I know how to protect myself, and I swear that I will protect you as well.”

  Her eyes darted up to meet his. “Vivian implied that Papa might try to kill you,” she whispered.

  He smiled. It was a bitter, gallows smile, but it was the response he’d learned to have to those sorts of threats. “Let him try. This is not the first time that my life has been threatened.”

  Honoria blinked, rocking back, horrified. “It’s not?”

  He shook his head. “Plenty of folks don’t like to see a man of color succeeding in this world. I’ve lost track of the number of times someone has tried to put me down.”

  “But death threats, Solomon.” She clutched the front of his suit as if she could drag him away from danger by his lapels.

  “They’re just threats, and all threats can be guarded against.”

  “Are you sure?” She didn’t look at all convinced.

  He was glad she never had to deal with this sort of hate, as glad as he was frustrated that she had to deal with it now. Honoria didn’t deserve to be in danger for one moment.

  “Sweetheart, as long as you’re safe, then your father can rattle his saber at me all he wants. I’ve made it this far, and I’ll make it even farther.”

  He pressed his hands over top of hers as they held onto his jacket. Her tension lessened by a hair, and she nodded. The worry was still in her eyes, and probably deeper. Solomon fought it by folding her against his chest in a protective embrace. He stood there with her, waiting until her body loosened and she sagged against him.

  “By any chance have you fixed supper?” he asked at length.

  She shook her head against his shoulder.

  “Good.” He nodded, setting her away from him. “I was hoping you’d say that. I want to treat you to supper at the hotel.”

  “But…but are you sure that’s a good idea?” The way she bit her lip would have been sensual if she wasn’t so anxious. “I mean, people might see us. They might talk.”

  Solomon laughed. “Are you saying that after seeking me out and asking me to marry you, sneaking behind your family’s back at your sister’s wedding to have the ceremony, and giving yourself to me last night so freely, you’re embarrassed to be seen eating supper with me?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all.” Her cheeks flared such a deep red that Solomon’s heart beat in double-time.

  “Then come along, beautiful wife of mine.” He turned and took Honoria’s arm, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Let’s walk through all of Haskell together and let everyone see us as we enjoy a fine meal.”

  She didn’t protest, but for a moment it looked like she might. They headed out the front door and around the corner to Station Street to take the most public route to the hotel.

  “I was going to tell you how I met Howard Haskell and accepted his invitation to open a bank in town,” he said as they walked.

  His ploy worked. Honoria turned to him, eyes bright with interest. “How did you?”

  Solomon settled into a satisfied smile. He walked at a stately pace. “I worked for him for a time in his financial office in Cincinnati, Ohio. But for that story to make sense, I have to tell you how I ended up there in the first place.”

  “Yes, I was going to ask.”

  He hesitated, searching for the best way to tell his story. It wasn’t the first time he’d told it, but it was the first time he’d told a woman. Some things had to have their edges smoothed so as not to hurt delicate sensibilities. Not that Honoria was delicate, per se.

  “I was born a slave on a cotton plantation in Alabama,” he got right to it. “One of the largest plantations in Limestone County. But for one lucky twist of fate, my story would have been no different than any other story of a plantation slave.”

  “What was that?” Honoria held tightly to his arm, absorbed in his story. A few people they passed stared at them, but she didn’t notice.

  “My mother was a house slave, chosen for the position because she was beautiful,” he went on. “She was able to keep me near her when I was young, and as a result, I became a playmate to the master’s son, Martin.”

  “Oh.” Honoria blinked. “I didn’t realize that happened.”

  “It does, or did.” He smiled at her. Maybe someday he’d tell her all of the not-so-pretty details about dynamics on a plantation. “What did not usually happen was for that sort of friendship to last beyond the early days of childhood. Martin and I felt more like brothers than anything. Of course, his father disapproved.” That was an understatement. He’d tried several times to sell Solomon to a different plantation, to no avail.

  “Martin was far more progressive than his father knew. He was an avid reader, and a secret abolitionist, though it made no sense for him to be one.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he was set to inherit that plantation.”

  They turned the corner onto Main Street. Most of the town’s businesses had closed for the day or were in the process of closing, but several people were still out and about.

  “Martin saw which way the wind was blowing. He knew that war was coming. About a year before hostilities broke out, he invented an excuse to go on a trip up North, to Philadelphia. He insisted on taking me with him to act as valet, as he said.”

  Honoria frowned. “And he got away with that excuse?”

  Solomon shrugged. “I’m not sure that he told his father what he was doing. By that point, the old man was gravely ill. It was more of a challenge to make our way up along the Mississippi River and then across Ohio and Pennsylvania by train. There were a few close calls, and I was almost mistaken for a fugitive slave and abducted at one point.”

  “Oh, no.” She hugged his arm.

  “Martin explained my position and got me out of trouble.” He said a quick prayer of thanks to his old friend. “When we reached Philadelphia, he officially set me free. More than that, he provided for my education. You see, at that time, Philadelphia was one of the only cities in the nation that had an institute of higher learning for freedmen, one set up by the Quakers.”

  “How forward-thinking of them.” Honoria smiled. “And for your friend to grant you your freedom.”

  He glanced to her, returning her smile. “It was forward-thinking and wonderful, but it was also part self-preservation. Martin had run away from home too, you see. I could still have been captured as a fugitive slave and him a
s a criminal. Martin could only take so much money with him, so we shared lodgings while we both attended college and worked. We both studied law. We had each other’s back when the war broke out and Martin’s loyalties were questioned. Back then, a man who didn’t join the army was treated as miserably as a man of color trying to better himself.”

  “I suppose he couldn’t join the army,” Honoria figured. “He was a citizen of the Confederacy living in the Union, right?”

  “That’s how Martin justified it, yes. But he was hated for it.” Solomon himself had resented the way the man who had more or less saved his life was treated. He rushed on. “The war ended, we both graduated, and both of us found jobs. It was easier for Martin. He took up work with a firm in New York City, and he’s still there today.”

  “Oh! I’m delighted to hear he’s still doing well.”

  Solomon nodded. “We write to each other, but he has a family now and my life has changed so much. It began to change in earnest when I moved to Cincinnati to take up the only position working in the law that I could find. Mind you, they wouldn’t let me sit the bar exam.”

  “They wouldn’t?”

  He grinned at her faith in him and her innocence over matters of prejudice. “No. I ended up working at a clerk in the office of a law firm that worked mostly with business clientele. One of our clients was a certain Mr. Howard Haskell. He was young and untested. The office didn’t take either of us seriously, so I was assigned to his account.” He grinned. “That twist of fate might have been even more important to the course of my life than being born the son of a house slave.”

  “Really?”

  They were nearing the top of Main Street, close to the bank and the intersection with Elizabeth Street. More and more people craned their necks to get a look at them as they passed. A few of their friends waved.

  “I learned about the law in college, but Howard taught me all about money. And believe me, there’s no one you want to learn about money from more than Howard. He encouraged me to invest my savings, and when that investment bore fruit, he guided me in ways to reinvest the profits. I studied everything he did, mimicked it, and before long, I had more money than anyone at my law firm would have dreamed of.”