Nora

by Diana Palmer

  “But someone might come in,” she worried.

  “I have locked the door, and the blinds are drawn. Sweetheart, there’s nothing to worry about, I promise you. Now, go to sleep. It’s been a long and trying day, and you’re tired. So am I.”

  She gave up arguing and closed her eyes. It was sweet, she had to admit. So sweet…

  WHEN THE MOVEMENT of the sunlight through the window blinds pressed at her eyelids, she was disoriented. She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar place and the sound of quiet breathing.

  Her head turned and she stared, shocked, at a staggeringly handsome Cal Barton sprawled nude beside her on top of the covers. Her eyes averted and then homed back, caressing the strong lines of his body and lingering on the secret place at the juncture of his powerful legs. His anatomy fascinated her. She hadn’t been able to look at him fully their first time, out of embarrassment. Now, when he was asleep, she could indulge her curiosity.

  How different his body was from her own, how frightening as she recalled the driving strength of it above her. Now that she knew something of the way two bodies joined, she began to realize what a shattering thing rape must be. Cal was beautifully made, but he seemed terribly large to her naive eyes, and even though he was slow and tender and very careful, she was still a little afraid of him until her body had absorbed that first gentle thrust of possession.

  Her hand reached toward him and then, when she realized what she was doing, she jerked it back. A deep, amused laugh echoed from the head of the bed. Her eyes darted toward the pillow and met a pair of laughing gray ones.

  “Touch me,” he challenged. “Go ahead, chicken, I won’t bite.”

  “I couldn’t!” she whispered.

  “Why not? I’m only flesh and blood. God knows, I touched you in every way possible last night.”

  She drew the cover over her breast and hid her embarrassed eyes from him.

  “Come here, you coward.” He pulled her down on top of him and cradled her body there while he laughingly slid her struggling hand down to the object of her curiosity. “Stop fighting me,” he whispered. “You know you want to. Open your hand.”

  He felt…strange. Alien. But after a minute, she began to relax and give in to the coaxing motion of his fingers. She knew nothing about a man’s body, but he told her, gently and without embarrassment, explaining it to her in the early morning silence of the compartment.

  “Marriage is very complicated,” she said finally, when he let her draw her hand back.

  “Oh, yes,” he agreed. “But very pleasurable, too.” He stretched hugely and moved her aside so that he could get to his feet. She sat up, watching him with fascination; with possession.

  He turned and saw her shy gaze and smiled at her. “You see? I am not so shocking anymore, am I?”

  She smiled back. “Only a little.”

  “You are beautiful,” he replied. He took the sheet from her hands and drew her out of bed, to stand in front of him. He studied her with solemn appreciation, from head to toe. “Exquisite,” he said softly. “Perfect.”

  She pressed against him, only to be held away with a choked laugh.

  “No, you don’t,” he said breathlessly, turning away. “You’re much too fragile for that, and I haven’t much control.”

  “But can’t you just hold me?” she asked, curious.

  “Sure. After I get my clothes on and calm down,” he replied, reaching for his shorts.

  That didn’t make a lot of sense at first, so he explained it to her while he dressed. Her hands shook as she got back into her own things. Heavens, marriage was going to be complex!

  When they were dressed, he turned to her, but his eyes were caught by the faint stain on the sheet. Her gaze followed his and she chewed on her lower lip worriedly.

  “Perhaps it is natural,” she said.

  “You must see a doctor,” he replied firmly. He held up his hand. “No one need know how long we have been married, or where. If your aunt asks, you may tell her that we met in secret and were married before you left here.”

  “But where, and by whom…?” she asked.

  “By a visiting justice of the peace from Richmond, of course,” he said. He produced the marriage license from his pocket. His thumb covered the strategic spot. “Look at the place name where the marriage took place.”

  “Tyler Junction!” she burst out. “But, how…?”

  “A very sympathetic man, the justice of the peace, and knowing that we were unlikely to meet again, he was more than happy to bend the law a little to comply with my request.”

  It was all becoming clear. The kindness and sympathy of the man who had married them and his wife, the brief ceremony, the lack of questions. “Oh, Cal. You told him about the baby!” she said miserably.

  Chapter Eleven

  CAL FOLDED THE LICENSE and put it away. “I had to tell the justice of the peace why we were in such a hurry to marry. He wanted us to wait,” he confessed.

  She let out a long breath. “What if he tells someone?”

  “I can assure you that he is a decent man,” he replied. “He will not. Nor will his wife.” His voice softened at the vulnerable look in her eyes. “I couldn’t take you back to your uncle’s ranch in disgrace, Nora.”

  She lifted her eyes. “You did it to protect me.”

  His mouth quirked. “I seem to do little else lately.”

  She shifted a little and peered up at him. “When I am completely fit, I could protect you,” she offered.

  His eyes twinkled. “An excellent suggestion.” He bent and kissed her forehead gently. “You will see a doctor,” he repeated. “And we will have no more…encounters until you have.”

  Her face fell.

  “For a straitlaced lady, you have an unusually expressive face.”

  “I don’t feel very straitlaced after such a night,” she confessed.

  He smiled, taking her hands in his to raise them to his lips. “All the same, you are,” he said.

  She smiled. “I am tired,” she said gently. “Perhaps some tea and toast would settle my poor stomach.”

  He put a warm arm around her. “Let’s see.”

  IT WAS RAINING the day they arrived in Tyler Junction, and a beaming Chester and Helen and Melly were all three there to meet them at the station in the surrey.

  “Why, what a welcome!” Nora exclaimed when she’d been hugged and exclaimed over.

  “Cal wired us about your secret marriage, and the very happy event to come,” Melly burst out gaily. “Oh, Nora, how lucky you are! A husband and a baby…and you will be close to us, so that we can visit!”

  Nora’s gasp was covered by Cal’s arm pulling her close. “I knew they would want to know that we reconciled for our baby’s sake.”

  “We want to hear all about it later,” Helen said firmly.

  “Yes, we do,” Chester agreed. “But meanwhile, we’ve arranged a little celebration party for tomorrow night. That will give you both a day to settle in at the cabin and rest up, and Cal can help me work out some details on these new purchases. I’ve been waiting for him to get back before I made any decisions.” He grinned at Cal. “He’s very knowledgeable about this sort of mechanical invention.”

  “Oh, I’ve worked on places that had combines and tractors,” Cal said, without adding that it was the family ranch enterprise where he learned.

  “No talk about work, if you please,” Helen said firmly, linking her arm through Nora’s. “Melly and I made new curtains for the foreman’s cabin and had it thoroughly cleaned. We hope you’ll like what we’ve done.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Nora said. She didn’t want to admit how terrified she was of living under such primitive conditions, and being less than a member of the family. But Melly and Helen weren’t treating her like an outsider, or an inferior. And the baby shocked no one, thanks to Cal’s quick thinking.

  She wondered at her aunt’s kindness and ready acceptance of her marriage. Aunt Helen had been very vocal about her disapp
roval before. The question she couldn’t ask was answered for her on the way to the surrey.

  “I’m sure that this hasty marriage broke your poor mother’s heart,” Helen said sadly. “She had such great hopes for you, Nora, and so did I. But if you feel so strongly about Mr. Barton, we can only hope that your judgment is not faulty.”

  Nora smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Mr. Barton is a kind man,” she said, “and intelligent.”

  “Of course he is,” Helen replied, “but he is a working man, Nora. And because of it, you must now learn to do the things that servants have done for you all your life.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her before that her aunt knew what she was talking about. She turned to Helen and saw the remembered pain in her eyes.

  “Why…you understand,” she faltered.

  Helen smiled wistfully. “Yes, my dear, all too well. I married against my family’s will and found myself disinherited and living in a line cabin with Chester twenty-five years ago. In those days, this was wild country indeed, and there were still Comanche raids.”

  “This far east?” Nora was aghast.

  “Yes, this far east,” came the amused reply. “I myself had to shoot a rifle and protect myself when Chester and his men drove cattle to the railhead in Kansas.” She pushed back her graying hair. “I know what it is to be gentle born and suddenly cast into a life of deprivation. I love Chester. But if I had it all to do over again…I don’t know what choice I would make. It is not an easy life. I thought we were doing well when Chester announced last year that a combine was buying us out because we were on the verge of bankruptcy.” She shook her head. “And here we are, at our ages, at the mercy of people we don’t even know.”

  “But things will go well for you,” Nora assured her. “Uncle Chester is doing a fine job.”

  “With your Mr. Barton’s help, yes,” Helen said gently. “Your mother no doubt sees history repeating itself. She tried to talk me out of running away with Chester, but I would not listen. She has always considered that she made a better marriage than I did. Although,” she added with just a touch of hauteur, “frankly, Nora, your father had no money until he married your mother, even if he did have a good family name.”

  Nora remembered her father’s cruelty with unpleasantness even now, and her mother’s lack of compassion. “They both despise me for marrying Cal,” she said, her voice strained. “It was not a pleasant moment when they were told, but Edward Summerville was trying to pressure me into marrying him and restoring his family fortunes. I had to ask Cal to come and tell them the truth about our marriage.”

  That wasn’t quite the truth at all, because they hadn’t been married then. But the comment was enough to placate Helen. “That man!” she said angrily. “That terrible man, and after being the cause of your infirmity…” She frowned. “Nora, you have told Cal about it?”

  Nora grimaced. “No.” She met her aunt’s accusing eyes. “I cannot! It’s enough that he has me and a baby to burden him. How can I tell him, now, that he has another burden as well?”

  “Oh, my dear,” Helen said helplessly.

  “I’ll be all right,” the younger woman said with more confidence than she felt. “I must be,” she added.

  “Besides, you have been in my position and survived it. So shall I.”

  Helen forced a smile. “Certainly you will.”

  THE RIDE BACK to the ranch was tiring. Cal helped Nora into the small cabin that would be their home, and she forced herself to act happy and bright. But she felt less than confident when she saw the ancient wood stove in the separate kitchen. This was her house and she would have to clean it and cook for Cal, wash and iron his clothes…

  She turned, pale. “You were not serious,” she began, “about my having to kill a turkey?”

  He laughed gently. “Oh, Nora,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course not!”

  He pulled her to him, and in his eyes there was tenderness and something else. “Stop worrying. I know that it’s a big change for you. But you’ll cope.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I will.”

  “Tomorrow, though,” he added firmly, “you see a doctor!”

  “All right.”

  There was little to do the first night, because they were invited up to the main house for the evening meal. Nora was almost tearfully grateful for the small courtesy. She had no idea how to do the simplest things around a house. She would learn, but it wouldn’t happen overnight. And her worst fear was having to produce an edible meal.

  “You must loan me a cookbook,” she whispered to Melly after they had eaten, while the others were talking. “And show me how to light a fire.”

  “Cal can light the fire,” Melly assured her warmly, “and cooking is not so difficult, truly. It is mostly a matter of practice.”

  Nora grimaced. “I shall poison him the first day I cook, I know I shall!”

  “No, you won’t,” came the firm reply. She stared at her cousin with amusement and awe. “Imagine, getting married so quickly and secretly before you left to go home. And you didn’t even tell me!”

  Nora’s eyes dropped. “Well, we were very aware of Aunt Helen’s disapproval,” she evaded.

  “She’ll come around. After all, she did it, too, you know,” she added with a grin.

  Nora met her eyes. “And you and the elusive Mr. Langhorn?”

  The smile faded. “Mr. Langhorn is still pursuing Mrs. Terrell. I haven’t spoken to him since the night of the Women’s Club affair, and I do not intend to speak to him ever again, after what he said to me. The man is rude and crude and utterly unpleasant!”

  And Melly loved him. She didn’t say it. She touched Melly’s shoulder comfortingly. “I am sorry,” she said.

  Melly shrugged. “I shall get over him. I am teaching a crafts class for children. His son attends. Bruce and I enjoy each other’s company, but Mrs. Terrell refuses to let her son come to my class. And I think she has said something to Mr. Langhorn, because Bruce mentioned only yesterday that he is uncertain if he will be allowed to attend much longer.”

  “That would be petty!”

  “Mr. Langhorn is petty,” Melly said with uncharacteristic venom. “He only allowed Bruce to come the first evening because it left him free to escort the widow Terrell to the theater.”

  “What sort of class is it, Melly?”

  “I teach art—sculpting, mostly. Bruce has wonderful hands,” she added reflectively. “He did a bust of his father that was remarkable. He won’t allow me to show it to the vile man, however, for fear of being ridiculed. You see, Mr. Langhorn thinks sculpture is a good pastime for a boy, but is no fit occupation for a man,” she muttered. “He wants Bruce to be a cattleman. Bruce doesn’t like cattle!”

  Nora was dumbfounded. She could see stormy times ahead for the child. She wondered briefly if her own child would have artistic abilities, and if Cal would want to suppress them. Men had odd ideas about the correct occupation for their sons. But agriculture was not the booming business it had once been, and harder times loomed ahead. Nora thought that she might prefer her son to go into business. But the child should be free to decide for himself.

  She asked Cal about it later, when they were alone in their cabin. “Would you insist that our child wear your shoes?”

  He eyed his dress boots. “Well, if our child is a girl, we might have to shrink them a good bit.”

  She laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  He grinned. “If we have a son, I would like him to be involved in my business, whatever it might be,” he said simply, without mentioning oil or Latigo. “But a child should not be forced to follow exactly his father’s or even his mother’s footsteps.”

  She smiled warmly. “There! You do feel as I do!”

  He chuckled. “You are unconventional in a few ways.”

  “Only a few, I fear,” she said with a weary smile. “If I were more unconventional, I could have spared you a marriage that you didn’t want.”

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nbsp; He put down the clock he was winding and took her by the shoulders. His silver eyes were serious as they met her wistful blue ones. “I want the child,” he said bluntly. “Marriage is not the ordeal I always thought it. In fact,” he added, running his eyes slowly over her trim figure, “it has definite benefits.”

  “Such as?” she teased.

  He pulled her close and wrapped her up against him. “Such as getting kisses whenever I want them,” he murmured against her eager mouth.

  He kissed her until it became uncomfortable and reluctantly eased her away with a chuckle. “My only complaint at the moment is that I cannot strip you naked and throw you down on the bed and ravish you.”

  Her face colored prettily and she sighed. “Oh, I should like that very much!” she said honestly.

  He burst out laughing. He lifted her and swung her around before he kissed her tenderly and let her go. “Never lie to me,” he said suddenly, the smile fading. “Your honesty is the one virtue I treasure most.”

  She averted her eyes quickly before he could see that she still kept secrets from him. But it was a kind secret, she said to herself, justifying it. It was a secret for his own sake.

  “And you will be equally honest with me, will you not?” she asked gently, lifting her eyes.

  She surprised something in his face that she couldn’t grasp, and just as quickly it was gone.

  “Of course I will,” he affirmed. “I have to check on the stock before I turn in. I won’t be long.”

  She looked at the huge iron bedstead, so different from the polished wood four-poster she had occupied at home. She forced a smile. “We will…sleep together?”

  “As we have done since we married,” he agreed. He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you object?”

  She smiled. “Oh, no. I love sleeping in your arms. But it is difficult for you, isn’t it?”

  His broad shoulders rose and fell. “It won’t be forever,” he reminded her. “Only until our small cake is baked and ready for icing,” he added, staring warmly at her belly.

  “What a very nice way to put it.”