The Texan's Inherited Family (Bachelor List Matches)

by Noelle Marchand

  “I could. I will...one day. I’m certain of it. He’s kind, Christian, hardworking—”

  “—suddenly handsome—”

  Helen laughed. “I was attracted to him even before the haircut and shave. Besides, he makes me feel...”

  “He makes you feel...?”

  Whole. He makes me forget that I’m a little bit damaged. She smiled and settled for, “Pretty.”

  “You are pretty.”

  “Thank you. Besides, what is love, anyway? It isn’t just a feeling. It’s a commitment. It’s endeavoring to understand and appreciate someone for who they are. Even if it was just a feeling, feelings are controllable.” She shrugged at Isabelle’s doubtful look. “Perhaps I come at it from a different perspective than most. You see, my parents had an arranged marriage and they love each other very deeply now. I don’t see why I should expect anything less.”

  “What can I say to that? As long as you’re sure, Helen. I’ll support you.”

  “I’m sure, and I’d like you to be my maid-of-honor.”

  “I’d love that.”

  Suddenly realizing that retrieving and sorting the mail was normally Amy’s job, Helen froze. “Oh, Isabelle, Violet told me about Amy. Have y’all had any more word from her?”

  Isabelle shook her head. “Nothing as yet. Father has gone to search for them mostly to assure himself and Mother that Amy’s new situation is suitable—whatever that means. Mother seems hurt that one of her daughters would do such a thing—hide a relationship and then run off like that. Violet is all aflutter thinking she’s in an Austen novel or some such nonsense.”

  “I never should have lent her my copy of Pride and Prejudice. All through dinner she explained to me the parallels between this situation and Lydia’s with Wickham. I believe Violet has convinced herself she’s Kitty.” She laughed at her friend’s grimace then regarded Isabelle seriously. “And how are you dealing with all of this?”

  “To be honest, I’m more than a little annoyed with Amy, as much as I love her.” Isabelle sighed. “Amy’s elopement isn’t a problem for Amy. It’s a problem for me. My parents are determined not to make the same mistake twice, so I’ll be the one facing more restrictions and tougher discipline. In the meantime, I’m trying not to be offended by mother’s suspicious looks.”

  “You really had no idea?”

  “Amy didn’t confide in me on this one at all.” Isabelle shrugged. “What’s done is done. It’s a good reminder that each decision we make not only effects ourselves but may have unintended consequences in other’s lives. I suppose we just have to pray about our options, follow God’s leading and be ready to live with the consequences of our choices whether good or bad.”

  “You have a good head on your shoulders, Isabelle. I’m sure your parents will recognize that once the excitement dies down.”

  “I hope so.” Isabelle frowned as she went back to sorting the mail.

  “I guess I’ll see you at supper.” Helen hurried from the foyer down the hall to her room. She closed the door behind her, but couldn’t shut out the wisdom of Isabelle’s words.

  Pray about our options...follow God’s leading...be ready to live with the consequences. She hadn’t prayed about the decision to marry Quinn. How could she have with everything happening so quickly? That didn’t mean she wasn’t following God’s leading. After all, how many times had she prayed for a husband and children of her own? Well, not that many because she hadn’t thought it possible. However, this was a blessing—an undeniable, pure, simple blessing. She’d be a fool not to run full speed toward it and Helen McKenna-soon-to-be-Tucker was no fool. She’d be more than happy to live with the consequences of her decision. They could only be good ones even if she didn’t know her husband very well yet. Or, have much experience running a home. She’d been a teacher for almost half of a semester. How much harder could it be to be a wife and mother?

  Chapter Four

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony...”

  Those sure were some highfaluting sounding words. Thankfully, all Quinn had to do was make sure he said I do at the right time and he’d be married to a woman too sweet, too intelligent and too attractive for his own good. He swallowed against the nervousness roiling in his stomach. He pulled at the fancy shoestring tie that went with the rest of his getup.

  He wished someone had prepared him for how expensive it would be to buy a ready-made suit. Of course, that was only a drop in the bucket compared to what it would cost to feed and clothe four children until they were grown up and on their own. And it could be even more than that if he and Helen added to their brood.

  He winced, hoping God hadn’t heard that last thought. How could he and Helen have children if he was half afraid to touch her hand for fear of making the Almighty angry? The deal was that Helen would be a mother—not a wife. The distinction was already blurring in his thoughts and the ceremony wasn’t even over.

  Maybe he ought to have gotten a better handle on that before he asked Helen to marry him. Maybe he ought to have figured a lot of other stuff out, too. Like how to read. Fat chance of that happening, though.

  He’d managed to get her to fill out the paperwork for the marriage license by pleading poor penmanship. He’d even put off signing the license in front of her so she wouldn’t see that pitifully written signature comprised of only his first name. That didn’t bode well for the future. What if he got too comfortable around her and let his secret slip? How would she react if she found out the truth about him?

  He shook the thoughts from his head. He didn’t even want to consider such a thing happening. Especially not in the middle of the ceremony. But it was already too late. His heart started racing. His palms began to sweat. Maybe he’d keel over right now and be done with it. Helen would take care of the children even if they hadn’t been officially married.

  He slowly became aware of the oppressive, awkward silence filling the church. Pastor Brightly cleared his throat. “You don’t wish to take Helen to be your wife?”

  “I—” He stopped and stared at the preacher realizing that wasn’t the question Quinn had prepared himself to answer. “What?”

  “You shook your head. I thought...”

  “Oh, no.” Quinn waved his right hand dismissing the action he’d done during his lapse of concentrate.

  Helen’s left hand slipped from his as the preacher’s brow furrowed in confusion. “‘No’ what?”

  Quinn frowned at Helen and took her hand in his again as a nervousness seemed to spread from him to the folks gathered in the chapel. Helen wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, was she? “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not—” Her words stumbled to a halt. She looked flat out bewildered. “Quinn, are you going to marry me or not?”

  “Well, I’m trying to, honey. The preacher here can’t seem to get the question right.”

  A chuckle sounded from the audience. Quinn turned in time to see Ellie Williams smack her husband on the shoulder for the outburst before glaring at her sister-in-law, Lorelei, who sat on her other side shaking with silent laughter. Quinn glanced at his best man for help. Rhett just shook his head. Helen leaned into Quinn’s side to whisper, “Pastor Brightly already asked you once.”

  “Oh.” He almost admitted he’d been distracted then stopped himself in time to keep from getting into more trouble. He nodded at Pastor Brightly. “I reckon you’d better ask me again.”

  Pastor Brightly looked decidedly nervous as he cleared his throat. “Will you take Helen Grace McKenna to be your wedded wife—”

  “I will.”

  “—to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony—”

  “I will.”

  Pastor Brightly took in
a deep breath and somehow managed to say the rest without pausing even a second for Quinn to answer. “Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

  Finally, realizing he’d been interrupting the minister, Quinn hesitated before adding one final. “I will.”

  It was Helen’s turn. She answered Pastor Brightly only once and not until the end, but the surety in her voice was worth the wait. Then it was time to exchange rings. He made sure to pay close attention so that he could say I do at the right time to endow all of his worldly goods upon Helen—such as they were. Quinn’s heart had managed to calm down somewhat by the time Helen slid the ring he’d picked up at the mercantile onto his finger...until he realized there was only one thing left to do.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Quinn, you may kiss your bride.”

  He froze in panic. Sending a quick glance heavenward, he turned to his bride. What else is a groom to do? It’s expected.

  He glanced down at her smiling lips and wished more than anything that he’d kissed her in the schoolhouse first, lighting bolt or no lightning bolt. Now he had an audience and no idea how he was supposed to do this. He leaned down slowly to make sure he had the right trajectory. He brushed his lips across hers. That didn’t seem quite right. He tried again, lingering this time. She tilted her head and did the rest.

  A lightning bolt hit him, all right. It traveled from his lips down to his soul. It blocked out everything in a flash of light and heat except for the woman before him. He pulled away to stare down at her. A hundred questions battled for answers within him. Had she felt the lightning, too? More important, who had taught her to kiss like that and how soon could he get his hands around that man’s neck? Finally, maybe if Quinn was real good about everything else, would God mind if he tasted lightning at least one more time before he died? He wasn’t anticipating a long wait seeing as he had not only chased after but caught more than he was entitled to.

  Nope. A wedding kiss was acceptable. He’d better play it safe from here on out. That’s what a smart man would do. He’d never professed to be one before, but he’d married the schoolmarm. He had to at least try to use his wits if he wanted to keep her.

  And he did. For the children. Only for the children.

  * * *

  Sean and Lorelei O’Brien had insisted on keeping the children at their neighboring farm overnight. Helen sorely missed their company, for the evening seemed to stretch on interminably without them. She tried to present a picture of unselfconscious comfort by tucking her feet under her and snuggling into the settee with a copy of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, but an undercurrent of unease seemed to crackle in the air along with the soft roar from the logs in the fireplace. Even the crisp notes of Quinn’s banjo couldn’t drown it out, though he wasn’t above trying—bless his heart.

  After announcing that he hadn’t had much of a chance to practice lately, he’d settled on the rug-covered floor across from the settee and started playing...and playing...and playing. It seemed as though he’d been strumming for hours, pausing for only an instant between songs, if that. At first, she’d enjoyed it. He was a very talented musician, after all. He’d even gotten her toe tapping a time or two. Now, she was getting concerned and a bit frustrated.

  It was their wedding day, for goodness’ sake! Didn’t he even want to talk to his new wife? She certainly wanted to talk to him. She’d been counting on this time to get to know the acquaintance she’d just married. She’d be downright mad at him for ignoring her if he wasn’t so attractive while doing it.

  Book abandoned, she stared at him, since he wasn’t paying her any mind, anyway. The firelight caressed his jaw with golden fingers that swept up to his cheek and back down again as he bobbed his head in time with the music. His strong arms curved around the instrument while his left hand slid back and forth across the neck of the banjo and his nimble fingers coaxed music from the strings. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration. She bit her lip to hold back a sigh. Talk to me.

  He glanced up and caught her watching. His fingers stalled. She smiled her entreaty. His lips curved upward in response. He went back to playing. She closed her eyes in annoyance then opened them to find his gaze fixed on her again. Progress! She’d better do something while she had his attention. His piercing cobalt eyes rendered her mind a complete blank. She reached for something sensible or meaningful to say then dared to speak over the music. “This is a nice room.”

  Really? That’s the best that I could come up with?

  It seemed to take Quinn off guard a little, too, for he glanced around as though with new eyes. The furnishings of the living room weren’t fancy, but they were comfortable and of good quality. The floors were the same rather worn oak that seemed to stretch through the entire house. The burgundy rug on top of it reflected the red brick of the fireplace, which was cooled down by the hunter green and dark blue in the settee and matching chairs. Having finished his inspection, Quinn offered her a nod. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Her mind scrambled for something else to say. What could she talk about? The ceremony? She wasn’t eager to discuss the fact that he’d made her a nervous wreck by originally accidentally refusing her. The children? All she could think about was the fact that they wouldn’t return until tomorrow. Leaving her alone. With her husband. Who had only just discovered that she was in the same room with him.

  Realizing they hadn’t stopped staring at each other while he played, she wanted to look away but was afraid she wouldn’t get his attention again. To be honest, she was tired of trying. It had been such a busy few days with her finishing up at school, packing her things and moving them into her new home. She was worn out. Perhaps she ought to just call it a night and hide until the children returned. She stood.

  The music stopped. Quinn looked up at her expectantly. Her mouth opened then closed as she realized that, though she was ready to turn in, she had no idea where to turn in to. She’d been so distracted by laying out the wedding supper their friends had sent home with them that she hadn’t seen anything of the house besides the kitchen and living room. After supper, Quinn had been too involved with his banjo to offer a tour. He stood, watching her with a concerned frown. “Something wrong?”

  “No.” Without her permission, her gaze strayed to the banjo which he still clung to rather tightly. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I’m ready to go to bed, but I’m not sure where I’m supposed to sleep.”

  He carefully laid the banjo in its case. “I already put your trunks in my room. It’s the first door you’ll come to in the hallway.”

  “Your room?”

  Her words were infused with just enough panic and disconcertion to jerk Quinn’s head up. His eyes were already widening when they connected with hers. A flush spread just above his well-shaven jaw. “I didn’t— I mean—I’ll be sleeping in the boys’ room from now on.”

  “Oh.” A wave of relief washed over her, but ebbed with confusion. He’d asked her to marry him because he needed a mother for his children. However, since he’d never specifically said that their marriage would be in name only, she’d assumed it would become like any normal marriage after they fell in love. Was he ruling out that prospect? If so, did that mean he was also ruling out the far more important possibility of falling in love with her?

  She really ought to ask him to clarify the issue. After all, she had a right to know exactly what she’d gotten herself into. She paused with the question on her lips. Did she want to know the truth? Absolutely. Did she have the nerve to ask? Certainly not.

  Instead, she wished him a good night and easily found the right bedroom. The door was heavier than she’d expected so she pushed it open only far enough for her slim frame to slip through. Readying herself for bed, she tried to sort through the myriad emotions tangling in her ch
est. This marriage had not started out at all as she’d imagined it would. Even the ceremony had been a bit flubbed. She had to admit that Quinn had been rather frustratingly adorable in that moment. He’d been so serious, so confused, so desperate to make things right. He’d even called her “honey.” Then he’d kissed her and she’d felt a sensation similar to the one she’d felt at the circus when she’d placed her hand on a glass ball that conducted static electricity—only more powerful. Of course, he’d followed all of that up by ignoring her the whole evening.

  One labored sigh later, she slid under the covers of her new bed. At least, she tried to slide in. Her legs would only go so far. She kicked and pushed and wiggled to no avail until one overenthusiastic effort sent her careening toward the floor. She landed with a loud thump, clamping her lips shut a second too late to smother a startled scream. She groaned in a mixture of pain from her soon-to-be-bruised hip and pure, honest-to-goodness frustration. The pounding of bare feet sounded in the hallway. The door flew open, setting off a popping sound as an avalanche of rice covered her concerned husband.

  Helen burst out laughing. Quinn ignored the sticky rice clinging to his body in his hurry to kneel by her side. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head even as she winced at the stitch in her side that came from laughing too hard. “I just hit the floor a little hard.”

  He helped her up. “How did you end up down there?”

  “Try to get in the bed.”

  He glanced from her to the bed then down at himself. “But I’m covered in rice.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Go ahead and try.” She smirked as she watched him lift the covers as though they were going to bite him. “Scaredy-cat.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her then jumped under the covers. His long legs had nowhere to go. He fell out of the bed, but managed to control his fall with catlike grace. He grinned up at her from the floor. “Helen, I reckon we’ve been shivareed.”

  “I hope that’s the extent of the troublemaking.” She shook her head. “Interesting how it isn’t quite so fun when you’re on the receiving end. I think I’d better get a broom.”