“I don’t know,” she said softly. “But haven’t you heard that to err is human, to forgive, divine. Don’t you think everyone deserves a second chance?”
He didn’t answer. Outside, the shadows of late afternoon lengthened. Rose lit a kerosene lamp and set it on the work table.
Charlie seemed so unhappy, and yet he couldn’t forgive Wally for his lie. No one had been hurt by it, and surely with a good talking-to, the man would never do it to Charlie again.
Guilt washed over her. She’d lied to Charlie, too. Lied by omission, but wouldn’t that be just as unforgivable in his eyes?
She wanted so badly to tell him the real reason she left Massachusetts. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth. He thought she was a well-bred woman who’d come from a wealthy home. If he knew her secret, her shame … He’d turned his back on a man he’d known for years. How could she possibly think he’d do any less to her if he learned the truth about her background?
The lie hung heavily on her heart, but now, knowing he’d never forgive her, she couldn’t take the chance of being rejected. No, she’d take her secret to her grave.
* * *
“I’m ready.”
Charlie was scribbling on a piece of paper on the table in front of him a few mornings later, not really paying attention to Rose as she came downstairs. “Ready for what?”
“It’s been two weeks,” she pointed out. “You promised I could help you work the ranch for three days if I spent two weeks learning to be a wife. It’s been more than two weeks. It’s been eighteen days, and I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. Now it’s your turn to fulfill yours.”
Charlie glanced up from the papers, his eyes bulging when he saw her. “What the devil are you wearing—?” He realized he’d raised his voice, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.
She actually looked a bit confused, as if she couldn’t understand why he was shouting. “What?”
He gestured toward her. “You’re wearing … pants. Men’s pants.”
She nodded and let out a small laugh. “Is that a problem?”
He dropped the pencil on the table and got up, the chair scraping across the wooden floor. “Hell, yeah, it’s a problem. Women don’t wear men’s clothes.”
“It’s so much easier to work in pants.”
“Women don’t wear pants,” he insisted.
“This woman does.” Smiling sweetly, she crossed the kitchen toward him. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, off the way her hips swayed, how the pants clung to her hips and thighs. He’d never get any work done if he had to look at her dressed like that all day.
“Can you imagine trying to work in a dress?”
“Well … no …”
“Then it only makes sense to wear pants.”
“Look, Rose … I know I agreed to this—”
Her eyes narrowed and her brow knitted. “Have you changed your mind?”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt …”
That much was true, and if anything happened to her because he’d allowed her to work alongside of him, he’d never be able to live with himself.
“I thought you were a man of character, a man who kept his promises. Was I wrong?”
Slowly, she turned around and took a few steps away from him, but not before he thought he saw tears building in her eyes. Whether they were tears of hurt or anger, he couldn’t say.
He swore to himself. The accusation cut deep, especially since he was a man of his word. He kept his promises, no matter what. And even though it stuck in his craw to keep this one, she’d never look at him the same way again if he went back on his word now. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s go.”
One day. Surely it would only take one day. If he worked it right, he’d only have to get through one day of her body teasing him, taunting him, before she was back where she belonged.
* * *
It had been three days since Charlie had finally agreed to let her help him on the ranch rather than stay in the house, and even though every muscle in her body screamed in pain, she’d carried out every one of the chores he’d assigned to her. She was well aware he’d given her the most disgusting and difficult tasks he could come up with – baling hay, digging holes for new fence posts, mucking horse stalls. He’d even had her help him repair a leak in the barn roof.
When he’d asked her to join him on the roof, she knew he hoped she’d give in and admit she couldn’t handle the job. But she saw the challenge in his eyes as he stood on the roof, hammer in hand. She couldn’t let him win. And even though her heart was thundering in her chest at the thought of being that high off the ground and she was afraid to even breathe, she managed to climb the ladder.
She hadn’t been able to hide her triumphant smile when she’d finally reached the roof and held out her hand for a hammer.
“You did a good job today,” Charlie told her as she followed him into the stable. A faint shaft of moonlight lit the aisle between the horse stalls. “Looks like I was wrong about you not being able to work with me. You might not be as strong as a man, but you definitely work just as hard. And that’s all I ask of a ranch hand.”
“Thank you.” Those were the words she’d longed to hear, the words that had kept her going. Now that she’d proven herself, she could take some time to learn how to be a good wife. She’d discovered during the days she’d spent in the house that she enjoyed cooking and looking after their home, which was why she’d neglected to bring up the subject of working with him. It had been eighteen days, not the fourteen they’d agreed on.
And during that time, she’d even found herself planning to learn how to can vegetables and learn to sew new curtains for the kitchen.
She led Butterscotch, down the aisle to her stall. As she took off the saddle and blanket and hung them on the rail, she called out to Charlie, who was unsaddling Pepper in a neighboring stall. “Scrambled or fried?”
“Eggs again, huh?”
“I’m afraid so. I haven’t had time to prepare anything.”
He sighed. “Scrambled then.”
“There’s a recipe in the cookbook your mother sent over that I think you’d like,” she added. “I thought I might stay home tomorrow and try it.”
Her lips quirked in a smile at the way Charlie’s eyes lit up, almost as if she was giving him a gift. “I’d like that,” he said, “but you’re welcome to work alongside with me anytime you want. So it’s up to you.”
Crossing to a shelf near Charlie, she picked up a curry brush and paused, watching the way the muscles in his back strained against the fabric of his shirt as he hoisted the saddle onto the rail.
He saw her watching and smiled at her. Her heart fluttered at his nearness, and that now-familiar sensation deep in her belly began to stir. Her breath quickened as she watched his hands gently caress the horse’s neck. Those hands … they did strange things to her insides whenever they touched her.
Perhaps it was time …
He’d been more than patient, and she’d found herself thinking about what it meant to have a real marriage many times over the past few days of spending almost every minute of the day with him.
They’d worked together during the day, and in the evenings, they’d talked until time for bed. She enjoyed hearing the stories of growing up on the ranch, laughing with him, learning more about him, just being with him even during the comfortable silences.
She was finding she missed him when he wasn’t with her, and when he kissed her before she went to sleep at night, her body ached for something she couldn’t define and couldn’t understand. All she knew was that she wanted more than just one kiss.
She wished with all her heart she knew how to let him know she was ready, and if her friends were close by, she’d be able to seek counsel from them. Unfortunately, they were hundreds of miles away, so somehow, she’d have to figure it out for herself.
* * *
Supper that night was strained, and Rose found herself unable to e
at her eggs. Instead, she moved them around on her plate with her fork, her thoughts focused on how she could let Charlie know she was ready since saying the words was out of the question.
“What’s the matter?” Charlie asked finally. “Why aren’t you eating? Are you sick? Or just sick of eggs, too?”
She looked at him, concern in his eyes.
At that moment, the realization hit her. She was ready to make this a real marriage, because she loved him.
She’d fallen in love with her husband. She’d fallen in love with the man who was patient, kind, and trustworthy.
But he would never love her back. He’d been honest that first night and told her he had no desire to be married, that he would never love her, that the only reason he’d done so was to ensure his inheritance.
Her throat tightened, and a weight settled on her chest. Could she spend the rest of her life loving him, knowing he’d never feel the same way about her?
“Yes,” she said, the lie falling easily from her tongue. She gave him a wry smile. “So tired of eggs. But tomorrow, I’ll make something special.”
“That would be nice,” he said, shoveling the last mouthful of eggs into his mouth. “Any more coffee?”
Rose quickly got up and poured him another cup, then set the pot back on the stove. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go upstairs to bed. It’s been a long day.”
He nodded. “I’ll be up in a minute to get my things before I head out to the barn.”
He no longer waited until Rose was asleep to leave their bed, since now she was well aware of why he spent his nights sleeping in the barn.
In their bedroom, she perched on the edge of the bed as thoughts swirled in her brain. She wanted a real marriage, wanted children, wanted to spend the rest of her life here on the ranch with Charlie. And even though he didn’t love her back – and never would – she’d learn to be satisfied with that. Because the thought of life without him was even worse.
The door opened a few minutes later and Charlie came in, pausing when he saw her. She hadn’t changed into her nightgown, and her nerves were strung so tight she was sure they’d snap at any moment.
Charlie leaned over and kissed her, then straightened and crossed to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He opened the door to leave.
“Charlie.”
He stopped, his hand on the knob, and turned to face her. He studied her, then moved closer. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked, crossing the room to the bureau and plucking a clean pair of pants out of a drawer. “You’re all pale and shaky.”
“No,” she whispered. “Actually, I’m not.”
In a moment, he was beside her. “What’s wrong? Should I go get the doctor?”
She let out a short laugh. “No. I’m not sick.”
Reaching over, he took her hands in his, his warmth seeping into her. “Then what is it?”
Taking in a few calming breaths, she finally gazed up at him, the love she felt for him warming her. “Please don’t go.”
Silence settled over the room. In the distance, an owl hooted.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked, his voice low.
She tried to smile, but her fear made it almost impossible. She nodded, the motion barely visible.
“Then why do you look so terrified?”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen—”
“No one ever explained it to you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’ll do to me, and I don’t know how to please you …”
He laughed then and for a moment she wondered if he was laughing at her innocence. “I can guarantee you’ll please me.”
He tossed the pants on the bed, then sat beside her, taking her hands in one of his. His other hand rose and cupped her chin, forcing her to look right into his eyes – eyes swimming with desire.
“I’ve been waiting since the minute I saw you to really make you mine, so even though this first time might not be perfect, with a bit of practice …” His voice trailed off as he grinned. “And I’d really like to practice a lot.”
“You’ve been so patient with me, and I appreciate it—”
“Rose, honey, I know you’re nervous, and I’ll be as gentle as I can. Since it’s your first time, it’ll likely hurt a little at first, but then it’ll feel good. At least I hope it will.” He gave her a small smile. “Do you want me to tell you exactly what we’ll do so you’ll know what to expect?”
She nodded.
For the next few minutes, he described in detail what he planned to do to her, how he was going to kiss her, to touch her, to join with her in the most intimate way possible. Heat of embarrassment rose in her cheeks at the intimacy he was describing, yet at the same time, excitement and anticipation crept into her veins.
Finally, he gazed at her as he raised her hands to his lips and kissed them gently. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured, turning her head away so he couldn’t see how affected she was by the compliment. She didn’t understand it. She’d had compliments before. So why did the words coming from him make her feel tingly inside?
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you as my wife.”
Rose didn’t know how to respond, or even if she needed to. The desire she saw in his eyes was playing havoc with her insides, and a strange warmth was seeping through her veins.
His finger traced the line of her jaw, to her throat, where he undid the top button of her dress. “Okay?”
For the first time, she reached up and kissed him, softly, running her tongue along the seam of his lips as he’d done to hers.
He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close and deepened the kiss. When he finally released her, her brain could only form one word. “Okay.”
Chapter 9
Charlie hadn’t planned to stop into the mercantile while he was in town again later that week. Lord knew he had a mountain of work still to do back at the ranch, but somehow he’d found himself climbing down from the wagon in front of the store and going inside, his boots clomping on the wooden floor. Odors blended together – coffee, leather, spices – filling his nose
Moira looked up. “Morning, Charlie.”
Charlie could only see a few strands of her silver hair over the top of a pile of cans on the counter. “This isn’t your usual day to pick up supplies, so what brings you in?”
“Picking up a rifle that’s being repaired. It’s not quite ready, so I thought I’d stop in here and buy a gift for Rose,” he said.
Moira picked up some of the cans to make room on the counter and stacked them on a shelf behind her. Turning back to Charlie, she grinned. “Is it her birthday? Some other special occasion?”
He shook his head. “No …”
“So it’s a ‘just because’ gift. That’s lovely. Do you have anything special in mind? Do you need some suggestions?”
What did a man buy a woman to let her know how special she was? He’d bought presents for lady friends before, but he’d never really given much thought to the gift, picking up something impersonal like chocolate or some other kind of sweets.
“Candy? Hair ribbons? I just got some perfumed soap—”
“Thanks, but I’ll just look around if you don’t mind.”
“Take your time,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Turning away, she continued stacking the cans on the shelf.
Charlie wandered through the store, filled to the rafters with everything from sugar to fence wire. He paused for a few minutes in front of a display of toilet water, lotions, intricately engraved silver-plated hairbrushes and combs. He moved through the displays and piles of goods ranging from nails to liniment, searching for just the right gift.
He’d almost given up, prepared to buy candy as a last resort, when his eye caught a small wooden box almost h
idden behind a stack of baskets. Reaching over, he picked it up and opened it, his heart squeezing when he saw the contents.
Varnished to a glossy shine, red roses had been painted on the lid of the box. Inside was lined with red velvet, a partition separating writing paper and envelopes from several pens and ink. It was the perfect gift.
Knowing how important it was for her to keep in touch with the friends she’d left behind, he hoped it might show her how much he thought about her when they were apart, and how much he appreciated everything she’d done for him.
She’d given him more than he could ever have hoped for – peace, laughter. And love.
He still didn’t understand how it had happened, but it had.
But he hadn’t been able to tell her. He’d never had a problem flattering women, speaking the words of love they wanted to hear, but every time he’d tried to tell Rose, the words had stuck in his throat.
No, a gift wasn’t nearly enough, but it would have to do. For now. Until he could figure out how to tell her he’d been wrong when he’d told her he’d never love her. Because he did. He’d fought it, but he’d lost.
* * *
Summer had arrived, and sunshine streamed through the windows into the kitchen where Rose was humming a lilting tune as she stirred cake batter in a pottery bowl Charlie’s mother had given her. She’d learned from Ada that Charlie had a real sweet tooth, and that molasses cake was another one of his favorites. She planned to surprise him with it after supper that night. She’d even whipped cream, her arm aching from the effort.
But it would be worth it to make Charlie happy.
As she poured the batter into the pan, a knock sounded at the door. “Come on in, Ada.”
The door opened, but instead of Charlie’s mother, Eugenie stepped inside.
Rose’s breath caught, and for a few moments, alarm raced through her. What was Eugenie doing here – in Charlie’s house? In their house?
Eugenie crossed the room and stopped beside her, her brow crinkling in apparent disgust at Rose’s stained apron.
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