“Hey, Brett,” Rhett said. “Ma said we could ride Hickory and Birch, so long as it’s all right with you.”
He stepped into the room. “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t all right.” His eyes shifted to Fiona, and he hoped she felt that same way. That she wouldn’t have kissed him back last night if it hadn’t been all right.
She closed her eyes for a moment and licked her lips before she told the boys to go eat lunch while it was hot. As Rhett climbed down, she said, “You too, Mr. Blackwell, go eat while it’s hot.”
“I will,” he said, ruffling first Wyatt’s and then Rhett’s hair as they walked past him. “First I want to know why you’re sewing when you should be sleeping.”
“Because I slept all night,” she said.
He knew that wasn’t true yet nodded. “How’s the leg?”
“Hardly hurts,” she said. “We’ll be out of your hair in no time. I promise.”
“You aren’t in my hair,” he insisted quietly while stepping up beside her bed.
She glanced around, almost as if she didn’t want to look at him. “Well, I feel as if we are.”
“You sure seem to have a lot of feelings about things,” he said. “And none of them are good ones.”
The click of the door made them both glance that way. Glad Martha had thought of giving them some privacy, Brett continued, “Why is that?”
Not meeting his gaze, she said, “Perhaps because they’re the only feelings I’ve known for a long time.”
“Then isn’t it time you changed that?”
“We can’t all be like you, Brett,” she said. “Every woman who’s walked into this room today has told me how kind and generous you are. What a big heart you have. How you’ve helped them out, one way or another, at one time or another.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
The frown on her face could have been laughable, if she didn’t look so mad.
“There were over half a dozen of them,” she said.
He knew that. He’d watched them all come and go. “Life gets tough sometimes. A person needs a helping hand. I don’t mind helping anyone out. That doesn’t make me any better than anyone else. Especially those women. They’re doing the exact same thing, and none of that is cause to make you angry.”
“I’m not angry,” she protested.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She leaned her head back and took a deep breath. “Why do you have to be so kind? So—so happy?”
“Well, if a person can’t learn to be happy, can’t learn to laugh at things when they go wrong, they aren’t going to amount to much. They might very well end up lying around feeling sorry for themselves.”
She sat up straighter. “I’m not lying around feeling sorry for myself.”
“I didn’t say you were. I said a person might be if—”
“I heard you,” she said. Then with a sheepish grin that reminded him of Wyatt, she added, “And I’m not angry. I’m just frustrated.”
“Want to tell me why?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“In this case, there isn’t any difference.”
He could accept that, but only because he’d already figured out what was bothering her. “Josiah came by to see you.”
She nodded.
“If he said something to—”
“He didn’t,” she interrupted. “Well, he did, but it wasn’t bad. He said he’s buying the house next door from the city and that we’ll all move in there on Saturday after we get married.”
The flare of anger that assaulted his insides shocked him. “You don’t have to marry him, Fiona. You have other choices.”
“No, I don’t, Brett.” She wouldn’t look at him again. “I made a promise and I’ll keep it.”
He’d never been in this predicament before. It was as if he was trapped. Having seven brothers, he’d fought for what he wanted before, and would again. However, it wasn’t the strength of his arms he had to use. Leaning forward, he lifted her chin so she had to look at him.
“Do you know what I want to do right now?”
“What?” she asked quietly.
“Kiss you. Kiss you long and hard. Kiss you so you’ll understand that the promise you made to Josiah isn’t what you truly want.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed visibly before saying, “It doesn’t matter what I want, Brett. I have to stay true to my word.”
He leaned closer, ready to do just what he’d said he wanted to, but she pressed her fingers against his lips. “Please don’t, Brett. Please. And please don’t be angry with Josiah either. We’ve talked. He’s sorry about how he’s treated me and the boys. He’s a busy man. Taking care of so many, the entire town… I understand that. Understand why he wasn’t able to be as welcoming as I wanted him to be. We’re going to…”
Anger filled him so completely, Brett stopped listening and spun around. The door opened just as he reached for the knob.
“Your lunch is getting cold,” Martha said.
“I’m not hungry,” he said flatly.
The worry in the two sets of little boy’s eyes that landed on him put a good dousing on his anger.
“It’s really good,” Rhett said pleadingly.
Stopping next to their chairs, he said, “I’m sure it is. I have to get back to the shop so Wally can go eat. I’ll see you two over there later.”
“Do you want to take a plate with you?” Otis asked.
Brett shook his head and then headed out the door. Whatever yarn Josiah had spun around Fiona had taken hold. As impossible as that seemed. She should be smarter than to fall for his lies.
Brett stopped long enough to swing around and stare at the house the town had built. There weren’t more than fifty yards between that house and his. There was no way in hell he was going to let her move in there with Josiah. No way in hell he was going to let her marry Josiah.
Spinning back around, he started forward. The best way to meet trouble was head-on, and being that it was noon, that meant the meeting would take place at the hotel. Where Josiah always took lunch.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She’d shed more than a bucket of tears since Sam died, and at least that many long before then, but none of them had been like the ones burning her cheeks now. This time it was as if her heart was breaking in two. Which was not only impossible, it was ludicrous.
There was no way she was in love with Brett. No way asking him not to kiss her could hurt her so deeply. The only sane reason for her condition was the snake bite. She must be so full of poisonous venom, she was going insane. Becoming a lunatic.
A lunatic who couldn’t stop crying.
Or stop feeling. The moment she’d heard the back door open, she’d known Brett had arrived home for lunch, and though she’d known Rhett and Wyatt would be with him, it had been the sound of his voice that had sent her heart racing. The sight of him standing in the doorway had taken her breath away. He’d stopped there, watching her talk to her sons, and she’d had to force herself not to look at him.
She’d also tried not to remember how glorious it had been to kiss him. She’d kissed Sam a hundred times over, and never once had her insides gone so soft and warm she’d thought she was melting from the inside out. But that was what had happened last night.
It had to have been the venom inside her. Because, even now, hours later, those sensations were still there, and every time she thought of Brett, she craved his touch. His lips. Even while fully understanding that he was mad at her.
Her mind, being under the influence of rattlesnake poison, was trying to justify how easy it would be to break her promise to Josiah. How tempting it was to tell the boys that she wasn’t going to marry Josiah,
but Brett instead.
They’d be overjoyed. They worshipped Brett and he would certainly be a father they could be proud of. One who would teach them right from wrong, praise them and even punish them when they did wrong. Which she doubted would happen very often because they would want to make him happy. She saw that already and could appreciate it.
So what was holding her back? Her conscience? Her stubbornness? That deep-down bottom-of-the-gut reasoning that she could be wrong about Brett? Because he seemed so wonderful now, but so had Sam in the beginning. With Josiah, she knew what she was getting. He’d already explained everything to her clearly and simply. Assured her there would be no more surprises.
A life without surprises would be awfully dull.
Good heavens, what was wrong with her? Josiah had apologized. She’d accepted it.
But only on the surface. Deep down, she didn’t want to like him. And that was a serious problem.
“Knock, knock,” Martha said while opening the door. “Feeling better?”
Fiona wiped the moisture off her cheeks with both hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Martha. I truly don’t. I’m not prone to crying, and yet…”
Martha set the tray she carried on the dresser and then dipped a cloth in the water basin next to it. After wringing out the water, she carried the cloth across the room. “Here, wash your face—it’ll make you feel a bit better.”
Fiona washed her face and her neck and hands before handing the cloth back. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been more confused. It must be the rattlesnake venom.”
Martha hung the cloth on the edge of the basin before picking up the tray again. Crossing the room, she shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. It very well could be. I’ve never been bitten by a rattlesnake, but I have been bitten by other things.”
“Like what?” Fiona asked as she shifted her legs while Martha set the tray on her lap.
“Oh, the occasional bee sting, other bugs, flies and mosquitoes.” Martha nodded to the tray as she sat down in the chair beside the bed. “A rabbit.”
“A rabbit?”
“Yes. Right on the tip of this finger. It got infected, so my father scraped it clear down to the bone. The tip has been numb ever since. Which is a blessing for a seamstress. I’ve never needed a thimble.”
Fiona grinned as she picked up the spoon. “How do you do that? How do you find the good in everything?”
“Because I want to. I don’t want to be sad. I don’t want to be miserable. No one does.” Martha’s green eyes took on a watery sheen as she said, “I told you our Beth was only fifteen months old when she died?”
Fiona nodded.
“It was a fire. Early in the morning. We lived with Otis’s parents. He and I were down in the barn milking cows when the fire started. It could have been a lamp, it could have been the fireplace, we don’t know. By the time we smelled the smoke, the whole house was in flames. None of them got out. Not his mother, his father or Beth. We found all three of them in the front parlor, almost to the door.”
Unable to eat after hearing that tragic tale, Fiona set her spoon down. “Oh, Martha.”
“I’m not telling you this to make you sad,” Martha said, wiping a cheek. “I’m telling you because, one, you are a friend, and sometimes it’s good to talk about things, no matter how badly it hurts, and two, because I want you to know, that even though I miss them, will miss them forever, I don’t dwell on losing them. I don’t dwell on them being in heaven while I’m still on earth. I remember the times I had with them, and the months I spent carrying our little Millie inside me, next to my heart where she too lives on along with Beth and all the other loved ones I’ve lost. We have to go on, not despite our losses and pains, but because of them. They’ve made us stronger, wiser, and, more important, made us not take things for granted. Tomorrow holds no promises, today is where we are.”
Smiling, Martha shook her head. “I know that sounds like a bunch of gibberish, but it’s not. We aren’t the same people today that we were yesterday. We’re a bit older. A bit wiser. What seemed like a good idea can be looked back upon as a foolish mistake, or one of the most amazing things that ever happened to us. Trouble is, we won’t know which it is until tomorrow.”
It was Fiona’s turn to smile. “I’m trying to make sense of that.”
“Me too,” Martha said. “But it’s true, isn’t it? It happens to everyone. What we thought we wanted one day isn’t what we want the next. But it would be a dull world if everyone did the exact same thing today that they did yesterday simply because they were afraid to try something else. There would be no new inventions. No new people to meet. No new recipes to try.”
Fiona nodded. “That would certainly be dull.”
“We don’t like being hurt,” Martha said. “Being wronged. Or wrong. But we can’t stop living today because of yesterday. The most wonderful part is, we have that choice. Everyone makes mistakes, but the happiest people learn from them and go on. They don’t let their mistakes consume them. They admit their failures or shortcomings and say, I won’t do that again. So to answer your original question from before I started babbling, I find the good in things because I want to. I want to be happy. Regardless of the losses we’ve shared, I want Otis and me to laugh, to have fun and, most important, to not be afraid to love. Just like the good book says, that’s the most important thing. Love. No one should go without that. No one.”
Fiona picked up the spoon again as Martha’s words settled in her mind. There was a lesson in Martha’s ramblings, she was sure of it, and she probably would have grasped it if her mind hadn’t kept wandering to Brett. Once again, she attempted to blame her scattered thoughts on the rattlesnake bite, for surely Martha’s words meant she should accept Sam’s death and move on, but she and the boys were already here, so there was no reason for Martha to tell her that. And there was no way Martha could know that marrying Josiah seemed like a terrible mistake or that she’d fallen in love with…
A shiver zipped up her spine as Fiona turned to look at Martha. The shiver crossed her shoulders and consumed her entire body as a knowing smile appeared on the other woman’s face.
Going with her gut instinct, Fiona asked, “How did you know?”
Martha clapped her hands together as she giggled. “How did I know? I may be married and love my husband dearly, but I’m still a woman.” She held up one hand. “Josiah Melbourne.” She held up the other hand. “Or Brett Blackwell.” The hand she’d fictionally put Josiah into fell back to her side, while the other one, representing Brett, rose even higher. “It’s a pretty easy choice.”
Fiona had to laugh at Martha’s antics. And then groan.
“Oh, Martha, what am I going to do? I’ve given my word to Josiah.”
“And the president promised there would be no more Indian attacks.” She huffed. “Granted, he’s a politician, so his promises are meant to be broken right from the start.”
A battle continued on inside Fiona. “But it’s not right to break a promise.”
“What’s not right is that you made a promise before you met either man. You had no idea what to expect.”
“Neither did Josiah.”
“That’s right, and please believe me, if he thought it wouldn’t suit him, he wouldn’t think twice about not marrying you. I’m not saying that’s right, but I am saying this is one of those times when people will completely understand.”
Fiona still wasn’t convinced and shook her head. “It’s not other people, Martha. It’s me. Deep inside I know it’s wrong not to keep my word to someone when I’ve given it.”
“Because others have broken promises to you.”
“Yes. Practically from the day I was born.”
“So you’ve vowed to never break one.”
“I can’t. I just can’t.”
Martha no
dded. “Because you don’t want to hurt anyone the way you’ve been hurt.”
“Yes,” Fiona admitted. “My father promised he’d come back from the war and didn’t. My mother promised we’d be fine—we weren’t. She died. My aunt and uncle promised to take care of me.” She shook her head. “They couldn’t wait for me to leave. My husband—” Having already said enough, she ended with “died.”
“There is this thing about being hurt,” Martha said gently. “It teaches us how to forgive. Let me ask you something. Which one do you think will be easier for Rhett and Wyatt to forgive you for—your telling them that you made a mistake, or making them accept Josiah Melbourne as their father?”
Fiona knew that answer yet wasn’t sure she should admit it. “Josiah’s trying,” she persevered. “He apologized.”
“I’m sure he did. Half the town is mad about what he’s done.” Martha shrugged. “He’s done a lot of good things for this town, and can be friendly at times, but I definitely wouldn’t want him being the father of my children. And I sure as heck wouldn’t want to sleep next to him at night.”
Fiona gulped. She didn’t either. “Oh, Martha, what am I going to do? The wedding is this Saturday.”
Martha shook her head. “You, my dear friend, will not be allowed out of this bed by Saturday. I personally guarantee that.”
Excitement had started to build inside Fiona, as well as determination. “Thank you, but I can’t do that. I can’t pretend to be ill.”
“You aren’t pretending,” Martha insisted. “It may seem like a little bite, but your leg is still swollen to twice the size it should be, and it could very well still be that way come Saturday.”
Fiona’s thoughts had grown so much clearer. She had forgiven others in the past. Her parents. Her aunt and uncle. Their promises hadn’t been broken on purpose. Not even Sam’s had. It was time she forgave herself. Admitted her mistakes and didn’t let them hold her back. A smile formed as she told Martha, “Brett is a good man.”
Winning the Mail-order Bride & Pursued for the Viscount's Vengeance & Redeeming the Rogue Knight (9781488021725) Page 17
