by Vanessa Vale
“She's the most biddable of the lot,” I added, referring to the eight Lenox girls.
“She's Rose's favorite sister.”
I knew none were actually related, but adopted after the great Chicago fire and raised by the Lenox women, but they didn't care. The sisters were as close as they came—fighting, bickering and loving just like any other family. The fact that there were no men in the household only made the Lenoxes all the more difficult to understand. They would not conform to a man, not unless they wanted to. Hell, they didn't do anything they didn't want to do. It hadn't taken two months to figure that out.
Chance had grown up on the next ranch over and had been neighbors with the Lenox family ever since he and Rose were small. He'd been in love with her all that time, but he'd done something about it only a few months ago, making Rose the first Lenox girl to wed.
I intended to make Hyacinth the second.
“She wants her to be happy,” Chance continued. I wasn't sure if this happiness included me or not, so I remained silent. “Therefore she wants to see you tame her.”
My eyebrow went up. “Rose said that? She said I was to tame Hyacinth?”
He looked appalled. “Hell, no. If you tell my wife I used that word, I'll deny it with my dying breath.” His statement revealed that Rose Lenox Goodman was not overly tamed herself, no matter what Chance said to the contrary. “Jackson, we can all see it. You want her.”
I wasn't going to deny it. “Yes.”
“She wants you.”
“That's debatable,” I replied.
“While you've got your eyes on Hyacinth, so does Rose. So do I. You might see her, but we see her reaction. Nothing—I mean nothing—has ruffled her feathers in years. You're the only thing that's got her blushing or putting salt in the pepper shaker.”
“Or walking to your house instead of letting me saddle a horse for her.”
Chance laughed. “Indeed.”
“Either I've done something to her to make her have an averse dislike for me, or she's got something dead set against marriage in general. At first I thought it was the former, but after talking with her just now, I think it might be the latter.”
“Oh?”
“She said she can't marry.”
“Can't or won't?” Chance asked.
“She said can't. Is there something wrong with her I don't know about?” She looked perfectly fine, more than perfectly fine to me. Even if there were something wrong with her, I didn't care. I wanted her just the way she was.
“Damned if I know.” He watched the crowd in silence for a moment. “She almost drowned in the creek about six, seven years ago, but she was able to get herself out of the current on her own. It was a horrible thing, a flash flood. She didn't have more than bruises and scratches, but I know she won't go near the water anymore.”
I heard the sadness in his tone and knew Hyacinth was lucky to be alive. The thought of her in danger, of possibly dying in the creek had a chill go down my spine. I hadn't even been in the Montana Territory at the time—being instead based on an outpost that dealt with Indian relations in South Dakota—but I'd wished I could have been around to save her myself.
“Avoiding water and avoiding me don't go hand in hand.”
Chance sighed. “Then I guess you'll have to find out what it is.”
“How am I supposed to do that if she won't get anywhere near me?”
“Simple. Take control.”
I stilled and took a moment to think. “Hell, you're right. I've been letting Hyacinth run roughshod over me.” I let her control the pace, let her decide when and if she wanted to be in my presence, and look where that had gotten me.
Nowhere.
I was used to being in charge, but Hyacinth was so mild, so calm that I'd worried that my usual dominant demeanor would scare her away. Perhaps the opposite was true. Perhaps, beneath a strong, yet loving hand, she would flourish, for all I saw on her face was struggle and sadness.
She hid it well. I could recognize it, for I hid my own problems with practiced skill. I worried she would discover I was damaged—not in any physical way—but my mind was bothered by what I'd seen and done in the army. When she learned I had nightmares—which would only happen once we were married and I had her in my bed, she'd probably catch the next stage heading out of town. There was no way to stop them; they came about unbidden and made for long nights. While I'd been honorably discharged, I had little doubt they could call me back into service. Sharpshooters were rare in the West and could eliminate a target without initiating an all out war. I just hoped they never wanted me back.
I should just let her go, let her find a man who was unbroken, who didn't have the possibility of abandoning her when forced back into service. Conscripted for the greater good. She needed someone who hadn't seen the horrors of war brought on by the white man out of avarice and greed, but I couldn't. I couldn't turn away from her. I couldn't let another man have her, touch her, fuck her. Claim her.
“Think Miss Trudy and Miss Esther will shoot me if I press my advantage?” I asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to do something to make me shoot you? She is my sister now, you know.”
I held up my hand. “You might be her brother-in-law, and I appreciate your protective stance, but you don't have to question my honor where Hyacinth is concerned. If I wanted any woman, I could go to the brothel in town. I want Hyacinth.”
Chance slapped me on the back. “You've got my support, and as soon as Miss Trudy and Miss Esther see what you're up to, you'll have theirs as well.”
“Thanks,” I said, my mission clear.
“Good luck. You're going to need it.”
CHAPTER THREE
HYACINTH
That dratted man! He filled my waking thoughts and now he'd taken over my sleep as well. I moved about the kitchen setting the table for breakfast as if I had a boulder tied to my ankle.
“What's gotten into you this morning?” Iris asked, grabbing the plates from my hands and moving about with deft speed.
My motions were mostly left unobserved by everyone until Iris piped up. Miss Trudy turned to me with a frown and probably wondered if I were ill. I pasted on my usual small smile and responded to Lily's question. “I just didn't sleep well last night.”
“Hyacinth, you have a visitor on the porch,” Miss Esther called. Everyone paused in their actions and looked to me. Lily and Marigold tilted their heads to look out the back window. “It's Jackson,” they whispered to each other, then started giggling.
Jackson. I was thankful Iris took the plates from my hands for they began to shake. I folded them together in front of me and went calmly—at least outwardly—to the back door and out onto the porch. There, with hat in hand, was Jackson waiting patiently.
“Good morning,” I said.
He nodded his head and then took my elbow. “Shall we step away from the house?” While he'd phrased it as a question, he wasn't looking for me to respond. He had me down the steps and out onto the grass before I had a chance to reply. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Lily and Marigold still at the window and Iris' head popping up and down behind them as if she were jumping to get a peek. I was thankful that Jackson understood the dynamics of my family and chose to take whatever he had to say to me away from prying sisters. Jackson stopped halfway to the stable so that we remained in plain view, his hand still on my elbow.
“I don't know why you can't wed, but you will tell me.”
He didn't begin the conversation with pleasantries, but started with what was on his mind.
“Jackson—”
“I don't expect it to be today, but someday. In the meantime, I will court you, Hyacinth. I won't take no for an answer.”
Butterflies filled my stomach and I was at a complete loss. He overwhelmed me in so many ways. Physically, it was obvious. I had to hold my hand up over my eyes as I looked up at him to block out the sun. With that motion, he spun me around so the sun was in his fac
e, not mine.
“You deserve better.” It was all I could come up with, for he did not seem to take no for an answer.
“I'll decide what I deserve.” His voice was sharp and had a hint of anger.
“But—”
He shook his head. “No. You will not speak of yourself in such a derogatory fashion again, for I will not allow it.”
“But—” I sputtered again, but he cut me off.
“If you do, I will toss you over my knee.”
My mouth fell open and I had no words. “You'd...you'd spank me?”
“Because you think so little of yourself? Absolutely.”
“Jackson, really, I'm not—”
One of his eyebrows went up. “Do you really want to finish that statement and test me?”
I bit down on my lower lip. I imagined he would follow through with his threat easily enough.
“To begin our courting, you will meet me here in this spot twice a day. Seven in the morning and seven at night. While you have more chaperones than needed observing us, they are too far away for you to worry about what we speak being overheard, nor do you have to worry about your virtue.”
My heart softened to him in that moment. “I'm not afraid of you, Jackson.”
“Good,” he countered, placing his hands on his hips. He must have just shaved, for his hair was damp and the clean scent of soap emanated from him. “Remember that. Courting means I intend to marry you, Hyacinth. I won't dally with you, but I will have you accustom yourself to what it will be like to be my wife.”
I wanted to embrace his every word, to sink into them with the feminine feelings of elation and eagerness that a man—this man—wanted me, wanted me enough to marry me. That was something I could cling to even when I had to turn down his suit. “Yesterday, I said I can't marry you and that hasn't changed.”
“I remember well and good. I also remember you playing matchmaker for Elizabeth Seabury. If I had the slightest interest in the woman, do you think I'd be courting you?”
His tone was dark, and I realized I had questioned his honor.
“There's one thing, love,” he continued.
My breath caught in my throat at the use of the endearment.
“There's a big difference between can't marry and won't. Now then, I will see you here tonight at seven with your first instructions.”
“Instructions?”
“If I asked you to join me for a ride and a picnic, would you turn me down?”
I nodded my head. “I would.”
“Then this is how we will court. We will become acquainted here.” He pointed to the ground between us. “I will see you at seven tonight.” He gave my elbow a quick squeeze before he turned on his heel and left me confused, curious and worried.
***
“Do you have any idea what it was like to return to breakfast this morning?” I asked Jackson, not waiting for him to say hello. The sun was setting over the distant mountains as I met him at seven, just as requested.
He stood tall, his shadow long on the grass, as he watched me approach. He wore dark pants and a different shirt than from what he’d worn that morning. As I stopped before him, he removed his hat. His hair was damp and it seemed he'd bathed before meeting me.
“You look beautiful tonight, Hyacinth.”
I flushed at his words and looked away, for I was not used to compliments, especially from a man. “You can't change the topic,” I countered, trying to hold on to my frustration, but it was difficult to do so when he was so polite.
He grinned. Grinned! “Very well. I will say it again later. What did you tell your family upon your return to breakfast?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, for I was quite cranky. Besides being tired, I'd had to remain quiet as my sisters peppered me with questions not just during breakfast, but throughout the entire day.
What does he want?
Did he kiss you?
Did he tell you he wants to kiss you?
Did you make him mad?
You're supposed to flirt with him, Hyacinth, not sew a button on his shirt.
Did he ask about me?
I had no interest in being pulled into a conversation about the man with Iris or Marigold or Dahlia —all twittery like birds—for they would never understand why I could not return the man's attentions. They'd say I was crazy and that I was wasteful of a perfectly good man's attentions. Perhaps it was true.
When I’d tried to slip out to meet him again after the supper dishes were done, the barrage began again. I was thankful to Miss Trudy for stepping in for me, silencing the questions with a delegation of chores to be completed. I now realized our meeting place was wisely chosen, for all of my nosy sisters could look their fill and discern nothing, for all we were doing was standing and talking—at least so far.
I highly doubted Jackson planned to have his way with me out in the open. I'd said I wasn't afraid of him, and that was true, to an extent. I didn't feel him to be dishonorable, the opposite in fact. I was afraid of his instructions. I'd stewed on that word all day long. It was that curiosity, and the knowledge that he'd come to the door and carry me out to our meeting spot if I didn't appear, that had me joining him.
“Nothing,” I said, pouting. “I told them nothing.”
He tilted his head to the side as if to see me better. “Oh? Why is that?”
“What we talk about is none of their concern.”
“That's right, love. What we talk about, what we do together is for us alone. I know you're used to having to share, but you don't have to share what's between us with anyone else. I won't let you.”
I looked up at him through my lashes, trying not to look at him straightaway. It felt good—no, special—to know we had something that belonged to only us. It was just words, but I felt the connection keenly, for it was something I'd never had before. Standing here with Jackson was something that belonged just to me, not something for me and my six sisters. I liked knowing that no matter how much the others prodded me for details, this time with Jackson was ours alone.
“You won't even let me attempt to court you properly, for if I did, you'd foist Miss Seabury on me, so we will go about this a bit differently. Do you have a mirror in the house?”
I frowned. “A mirror?”
He nodded. “A full length one.”
“In the washroom. It's not full length, but long enough.”
“Good. Tonight, I want you take off all your clothes and stand before it.”
My eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I want you naked, love, in front of a mirror.”
“Why?” I asked, taking a step back. He'd never spoken to me thusly before.
He reached out and took my hand in his, felt the warmth of it, the callouses that roughened his skin. “Because you're beautiful and I want you to see it. I bet you don't even look at your body, do you?”
My cheeks flushed at the topic of conversation.
“Do you?” he repeated. He wouldn't let me hide. With all of my loud, noisy sisters, it was easy to do just that, even in plain sight.
I couldn't answer, for the topic of conversation had shifted to where I felt uncomfortable and was completely unknowledgeable. So I remained quiet and just shook my head.
He bent at the waist so he was eye level with me, ensuring I was looking at him. “When I see you in the morning, you will tell me the exact color of your nipples.”
My mouth fell open and my nipples tightened at the very idea. They'd never done so before, and the feeling of it was as shocking and illicit as his words.
“We shouldn't be talking like this,” I told him.
“Yes, we should, for I will talk about your body, and mine, frankly and openly from now on,” he countered. “Tomorrow morning at seven, love. I will be guessing the color all night.”
Lifting my hand to his mouth, he gave my knuckles the slightest brush of his lips and then let it go. He stepped back, gave me a wink, then turned and left me. Again.
/> How could I go back inside? Surely my family would know what we’d spoken of, even if it were impossible. Could they see the words on my face? Could they tell my nipples were hard even beneath my corset? Would they know I was equally appalled and intrigued by his words? There had to be something very wrong with me, and that scared me. Jackson scared me.
I couldn't linger, so I went inside. When the others circled me for questions, I couldn't stand the noise, the pestering. It was overwhelming, the din, what Jackson made me feel, how he made me think —it was too much. All I could do was call out, “Leave me alone!” as I ran upstairs, leaving everyone behind.
The fact that I heard nothing in response told me how surprised they were by my outburst. I was surprising myself, for I didn't go to my room, but the washroom instead, where I slammed the door behind me and turned to stand before the mirror. After a few moments of consideration, I began undoing the buttons of my dress.
CHAPTER FOUR
JACKSON
I worried that I'd pushed Hyacinth too hard, but if anyone needed a little nudge in the right direction, it was her. Rose may have been contrary and opinionated, making Chance's taming of her difficult. But when a woman was docile, mild and disliked confrontation of any kind, it was almost impossible. I could toss her over my shoulder and carry her to church and marry her, but it would not be because she truly wanted it. Instead, it would be because she would be afraid to hurt my feelings, or in fact, admit she had any of her own.
And so I'd all but dared her to return again in the morning, this time to share the color of her nipples. I longed for the answer. Hell, my cock wasn't sure if it could take this alternate model of courtship. My cock liked the “toss the woman over the shoulder” idea much better. Getting Hyacinth beneath me would happen. It would just take a little time. Just thinking of her stripping down and standing before a mirror had kept any nightmares at bay. If she didn't meet me as I'd requested, then I'd have to consider the fact that perhaps she really wasn't that interested in—
