She remembered to breathe. “And how long would that be?”
“I have my mind set on six months.”
Six months? Why entire towns sprang up in less time. Wars were fought and… “What will we do for six months?”
“We’ll get to know each other.”
Her thoughts traveled back to his proposal. I’m not asking because I need you to perform household chores, he’d said. I’m asking because I believe we could develop a mutually satisfying relationship.
At the time she’d known exactly what that meant. She still understood. He hadn’t needed her to clean or cook or even to look after his children. She would have learned how, but all those tasks were taken care of. No, he wanted her because he needed a woman at his side in public and in his bed in private. Hadn’t he?
But because he believed she’d come from a genteel background and was like any other young unmarried woman her age, he believed she needed protection and shelter…a slow tender initiation to the ways between men and women.
She appreciated him all the more for his concern. But she was all the more determined to win his favor. “Will you kiss me?”
“I—” He had obvious trouble forming his reply.
“Is kissing part of courtship?” she insisted.
“Yes. Most certainly it is.”
She rose to her feet. “Then I’d like you to kiss me.”
When he stood and stepped forward, she tipped her head back to look up at him. Still, he hadn’t closed all the distance between them. She took the step that brought her against him and rested her hand on the front of his jacket. Parting her lips, she waited.
Instead of bending forward and covering her mouth with his as she expected, he raised his hand to her cheek and cupped it. With grave tenderness, he slid his fingertips into the hair at her nape. An unanticipated shiver ran across her shoulder and down to her breasts, tightening them beneath the silk wrapper.
He rested his other hand ever-so-lightly against the small of her back, riveting her in place with that gentle touch.
His dark gaze traveled her face, from her eyes to her lips, his expression changing…relaxing. Yes. He wanted her. Relief swept over her. “You are a rare flower, Ella. An exquisite rare flower.”
His breath touched her chin. Her heart leaped in response.
She truly wanted him to kiss her. She no longer had a point to prove or an agenda. Ella wanted this man to kiss her. Unfamiliar tears smarted behind her eyelids, so she closed her eyes to hide them.
He raised her face with his palm, and his lips closed over hers in a warm tantalizing greeting. Hello. So this is what you taste like.
She wrapped her arm behind his neck and urged him closer, into a fuller, more satisfying melding of lips and breath. He smelled good, like crisp linen with a hint of mint and champagne. His lips were firm and warm. Her head felt as though she’d finished a bottle on her own, but she’d only had two glasses of the bubbly liquid. The man himself was intoxicating.
She’d had no idea there were kisses like this. She kissed him because she wanted to, because the act gave her pleasure. The recognition shocked her.
Maybe courtship wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.
He drew back a few inches. She opened her eyes and he gazed into them. Was he changing his mind? Would this champagne kiss lead to a night in her bed?
“I’d better leave,” he said.
She’d never quite understood disappointment in this heartfelt physical manner. She wasn’t a dreamer. Dreams were out of reach and easily destroyed. Nor was she a romantic, holding hopeless imaginings of love or faithfulness. She knew firsthand the true nature of men. She held no expectations, therefore experienced no disenchantment. His leaving was a mere frustration, she assured herself. She had a plan to endear herself to him, and he had thwarted that with his counterplan for a courtship.
Ella released her hold on his neck and took a backward step on legs that trembled. His hooded gaze took in her hair, her lips, and fell to the base of her throat, where she suspected her pulse beat wildly. She gave him a demure smile.
He would change his mind within a week.
She’d been alone her whole life, so the solitude of her room was nothing new. The most unusual aspect she discovered was upon waking when she drew back the russet damask draperies to greet the morning. She had a clear view of the immense side yard, the roof of the carriage house and the broad expanse of sky—all without bars.
The females who lived there had been told that the iron bars that covered every window at Madame Fairchild’s were for their own protection. Men in a cow town would do just about anything to get to a woman. But more often those barriers had prevented the girls from taking a notion to leave.
Ella studied the neighboring house with its painted gables and glanced at the roofs of the other nearby homes. Yesterday one of the men had mentioned that vast improvements had been made to the streets and buildings along the main thoroughfares in hopes of having a governor chosen from Sweetwater. The locals had expectations of a territorial capitol and eventually statehood. She raised the window to the sound of a horse and buggy clattering on the brick street.
Sights and sounds of freedom.
For the first time, she recognized what marriage to Nathan Lantry had bought her. Freedom to come and go as she pleased, freedom to walk along the street and to shop with her head held high. Freedom to enjoy life without oppression or criticism.
Ella wanted to become the person Nathan believed he’d married. And she would. Now that she had the opportunity, she could blend herself into this community and become his most valuable asset.
She washed quickly, arranged her hair and donned a pastel green day dress. She was thankful that her wardrobe had been designed and created by the talented seamstress Madame Fairchild kept on her staff. The Frenchwoman traveled abroad at least once a year to update her fashion knowledge and buy fabrics and notions.
Without anyone ever saying as much, Ella understood she’d be expected to live up to the caliber of dress and conduct befitting a governor’s wife. She donned a strand of pearls and a jade brooch appropriate for day wear.
The upstairs hall was quiet, but sounds of activity rose from downstairs. In the dining room, she discovered Nathan and the children seated at one end of a massive table.
He stood and held a chair out for her. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, thank you.”
The children observed her in silence. “Good morning,” she said. She noticed an extra place setting and wondered who would be joining them.
Mrs. Shippen arrived through a doorway with a pitcher of milk she poured into the children’s glasses. She seated herself in front of the other place setting.
Footsteps sounded and a plump woman entered from the kitchen, carrying a steaming platter of sliced ham and a plate of fried eggs. She handed the platter to Nathan and set the plate within his reach.
“Ella, this is Charlotte Miller.” He served Christopher and himself and passed both dishes to Ella. “Charlotte, my new wife.”
“How do, Mizz Lantry,” the woman said with a friendly smile.
“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Miller.”
“Just Charlotte,” the woman said.
Ella took servings from each plate and passed the dishes to Mrs. Shippen, who served the other two children and proceeded to cut their ham into bite-size pieces.
“Charlotte’s a fine cook,” Nathan assured her. “She’s here every morning, and each night. After breakfast on Sunday, she leaves a noon meal in the oven.”
Robby slumped in his chair and pouted.
“What’s the matter, Robby?” his father asked.
“I want applesauce.”
Nathan glanced at the cook. “Do we have applesauce?”
The woman nodded.
Ella folded her hands in her lap and didn’t lift her gaze to watch the exchange. She’d never sat at a table with a family in her life. If Nathan was mustering up a load of steam to
reprimand the child, she didn’t want to be a witness. In her experience children ate what was placed in front of them without options or complaints.
Nathan stood, resting his napkin on his seat. “I’ll be right back.”
Ella’s heart rate increased a measure in her discomfort.
Robby remained slumped on the chair, swinging his feet under the table.
Mrs. Shippen unconcernedly served herself eggs and picked up her fork.
Nathan returned and Robby sat up straight with a bright smile. “You will eat an egg, too,” Nathan told him, spooning thick applesauce onto his plate.
Nodding happily, the boy picked up his spoon and ate.
Nathan returned to his seat and glanced at Ella’s plate. “Something wrong with the food?”
“Not at all.” Ella relaxed and smeared a spoonful of preserves on a slice of toast.
“No jam at Miss Haversham’s, either?” he asked.
“No jam,” she replied. “Dry toast and tea.”
“Doesn’t sound like a meal for growing children.”
She took her first bite to discover a pleasant burst of sweet raspberry flavor. Nothing about her life had been ordinary, but she had no idea what ordinary involved. “Is this a normal breakfast for you?” she asked. “Or is this a special occasion?”
“Your first day with us is a special occasion, but this is a typical breakfast. When Charlotte needs a day off, we make the best of it. Mrs. Shippen isn’t a bad cook.”
Virginia Shippen spoke up for the first time, directing her remark to Ella. “The mister can stir up a fine kettle of cooked oats.”
“Mrs. Shippen has asked for a day off each week now that you’re here,” Nathan said.
“May I watch after the children that day?” Ella asked.
Nathan smiled. “I hoped you would.”
“I’m happy to do all I can,” she said. “And I’ll help clean up after breakfast,” Ella offered.
“I doubt you’ll have time today,” Mrs. Shippen told her.
“Why not?”
“You’ve forgotten,” Nathan said. “It’s Sunday. Mrs. Shippen’s son comes to get her for the day, and Charlotte will clean up. We head out for church in—” he withdrew his pocket watch and flipped open the cover “—about twenty-five minutes.”
“Yes, of course.” Ella absorbed that piece of information with a calm smile pasted on her face. Of course it was Sunday, and everyone was up early and dressed for church. She glanced at Grace in her green plaid dress and the boys in white shirts and miniature ties. “Am I dressed appropriately?”
Nathan’s attention flickered over her hair and touched on her dress. His gaze warmed in appreciation. “You look lovely.”
She gripped her napkin in her lap. She had evening dresses aplenty, a selection of day dresses and a few skirts with blouses, but she’d never had occasion to own clothing for church. “I wasn’t sure what the ladies in Sweetwater wore to church, is all. I don’t want to make a bad impression. Perhaps I should wear a dress with a jacket.”
“You’d be too warm,” he replied. “I like what you’re wearing.”
“I’ll just go select a hat then.” She stood.
“You’ve barely eaten anything,” he said.
“It was very good, but I’m full. I’ll be down in time to leave.” She hurried from the room and up the stairs, where she dragged a stack of hatboxes to the center of the room and tossed off the lids. Finally deciding, she donned a black straw hat with a small brim. Tiny yellow and red silk flowers adorned the brim, and ends of frothy black netting hung down her back. Standing before the mirror, she settled it just right and stuck a long pearl-headed pin through each side, catching her hair.
She lifted the tray from a trunk and rifled the contents until she found a pair of short white gloves with bead and seed pearl design. This was her debut morning as Mrs. Nathan Lantry. Nerves jittered in her stomach, chipping away at her always-firm composure. These new circumstances were out of her realm of confidence, but she couldn’t let her serene facade slip.
The hat didn’t go well with her dress, so she removed her hat and tugged off the gloves, then changed into a white handkerchief blouse and donned a short-sleeved plum-colored velvet jacket. The color required she select a different hat, so she barely made it down the stairs and out the door as Nathan was helping the children into a buggy.
“You look lovely,” he told her, and held her arm as she climbed in.
“I noticed the carriage house from the window, but where are the horses kept?” she asked.
“I stable two horses at the livery. The liveryman or one of his helpers brings one to the house on Sunday mornings. Whenever you want to go somewhere and don’t want to walk, simply let me know in the morning, and I’ll make arrangements for a driver to come hitch up the buggy.”
She would want to go visit Celeste soon, but for now all she could focus on was this morning.
This was her only chance for a first impression. She hoped for all she was worth that she measured up to the standards of the townspeople…and that Nathan would have no reason to be embarrassed by his hasty choice in a wife.
Chapter Five
The oak doors were already closed, so Nathan tugged one open. Organ music swelled as he gestured for Ella to enter ahead of him. She stepped into the white frame church, her boot heels echoing on the floorboards as she hesitated at the rear of the long aisle. Everyone had been seated, and now heads turned as Nathan guided her forward, the children in tow. Discomfort prickled at the collar of Ella’s modest white blouse, and she tried to walk more quietly. Beside and behind her the children’s feet made a clatter.
The only familiar face in an ocean of strangers was Celeste’s. Ella latched on to her smile and returned it. Was Nathan ever going to select a pew and get them out of the center of attention?
He led them almost all the way to the front before stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter and take a seat on a long pew. Settling beside her, Nathan set down a leather book with a worn cover and pulled Robby onto his lap. He withdrew a small leather case from his pocket and handed it to the boy.
With chubby fingers, the child popped open the snap and slid out a pair of miniature wooden sheep and a giraffe.
Reverend Kane, who had married them the day before, announced a song and page number. Everyone stood. Ella glanced around and followed Nathan’s movements. He got to his feet holding Robby on one arm. Nathan gestured toward the back of the pew ahead of them.
It took her a moment to figure out he wanted her to pick up the book that was tucked in a holder. She did so and, following the actions of the person on the other side of her, opened it to the appropriate page.
She read music, so she had no difficulty following along as Reverend Kane led the hymn. Singing in a group of people was outside her experience. Voices lifted all around her, a woman behind them even providing pleasant harmony. Nathan had a surprisingly deep mellow voice, and didn’t appear the least self-conscious; in fact, he looked over at her and smiled more than once as they stood like that, voices and organ music swelling around them.
Brass plates were passed from person to person, and Ella observed the church members tossing in coins and paper currency. She leaned toward Nathan to whisper, “I forgot my coin purse.”
“No worries. I make our offering for the family. You can put it in the offering plate if you like.” He reached into his inside coat pocket, withdrew several bills and handed them to her. She added them to the growing pile of cash as the plate came past.
Reverend Kane stood behind a wooden pulpit draped with a white cloth. “It’s my pleasure to make introductions this morning,” he said in his booming voice. “Mrs. Paul Adams is with us for the first time. Welcome to Sweetwater, Mrs. Adams.”
All heads, including Ella’s, turned toward Celeste. Her cheeks burned a bright pink, but she smiled and acknowledged the introduction with a nod. Beside her, Paul beamed with pride.
“And Mrs. Nathan Lantry i
s worshipping with us for the first time. Welcome to Sweetwater, Mrs. Lantry.”
This time men, women and children turned their attention to Ella. Warmth climbed her neck until her cheeks burned hot. She made a point of looking at Celeste and smiling.
The preacher opened a book, and Ella missed his next few words.
“Can you reach my Bible?” Nathan asked, around Robby’s head.
Ella must have given him a quizzical look.
“It’s there on the other side of you now.”
“Oh.” She found the book he wanted and extended it toward him.
“Go ahead and hold it for me,” he whispered.
She placed it on her lap.
“Open with me to the second book of Corinthians,” Reverend Kent instructed.
Pages rustles in the silence as people all around opened their Bibles.
Ella opened the book on her lap, only to see a page header that read Ezekiel thirty-five. She peeked at the book the woman on her left held, and noted she had found the Corinthians heading. After thumbing through a few pages, she realized she was the only one still rustling pages, without seeing anything close to a Corinthian. She quickly closed Nathan’s Bible.
His fingers closed over it and he shifted Robby in order to open the book to the correct place.
Toward the end of the service, Robby became irritable, and Nathan kept him quiet by galloping the giraffe across the little boy’s knees until he giggled and Nathan had to stop.
By the time the last song had been sung, the child slept soundly on Nathan’s shoulder.
They stood and merged into a crowd making a way toward the door at the rear of the sanctuary. A dozen townspeople greeted them.
Ella recognized that the men outnumbered females at least two to one. No wonder their meager group of women had been welcomed into this community with open arms.
“Mrs. Lantry?”
At a touch on her shoulder, she turned. The address had been for her, of course. A slender woman in a green dress and matching hat gave her a hesitant smile. “I’m Betsy Iverson. I couldn’t help noticing your lovely voice this morning.”
Her Wyoming Man Page 4
