by Gordon, Rose
She released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Yes,” she choked and then cleared her throat. “But only if you’re agreeable to my terms and promise not to push me.”
Jack’s face softened. “Of course I’ll honor your terms.” He dropped his voice. “All of them.” A grin split his face that could only be categorized as predatory and he added, “As you should know from my diligence in responding to your letters, I don’t back down from a challenge—particularly one as tantalizing as this might prove to be.”
~Chapter Six~
Jack did his best to close his mouth, but the truth was, he was just as shocked by the words that had tumbled out of his mouth as Ella seemed to be.
He couldn’t say why he’d just spoken to her the way Gray might have if he were in Jack’s situation, nor did he care. He’d said it, and strangely enough, he’d meant it. He’d seen the ridiculous way that Wes had courted Allison after she arrived—barely at all, to his mind—surely he could do better and have Ella madly in love with him in no time at all. He was sure of it. Their getting off to a rough start wouldn’t matter soon and one day it would be nothing more than a fading (and possibly amusing) memory of how they first met. Nothing more.
“Are you ready to go make this official?” he asked, offering her his arm.
“A-all right.” When she took his arm, Jack shot a triumphant look over to where Wes and Gray stood, barely out of earshot.
“Chaplain Malone is still over in his shop, Jack,” Gray called in a tone that sounded almost as if there was a slight edge.
Jack nodded and bit back his grin at Gray’s tone as he escorted Ella past them and toward the blacksmith’s shop where Chaplain Malone worked unless he was needed for some ministerial pursuit. Oftentimes, like today, he wouldn’t stop when everyone else did, but would continue to work until dinner.
After they were officially married, Jack would take her to the barracks and show her their room... He inwardly cringed. If she didn’t relish the idea of living in a room she’d so adequately deemed part of a glorified boarding house, she’d certainly be upset when she discovered the size of their quarters and learned that on the other side of a very thin wall was the room where Allison and Wes lived. He swallowed his unease and continued on.
“I hope you don’t mind my friends. They’re just—” Jack shrugged as if he didn’t know exactly how to describe his friends and their irritating habits.
“It’s all right,” she assured him, fussing with a lock of her raven hair with her free hand. “I must confess, I didn’t realize that I’d be meeting your friends so soon, which is silly of course. You did mention that you were close to them...”
Tension crackled in the air as the unsaid part of her sentence hung between them.
“Yes, I did,” Jack said smoothly. “Ella, I am sorry that I didn’t explain the situation better.”
She swallowed so hard he thought she might have swallowed her tongue. But when no choking sounds came from her throat, he knew better. It wasn’t that she was tart-tongued, and of course, he did understand her situation, but still, to his mind, he hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t his fault she’d misunderstood. He’d said he worked for the army and didn’t have crops, and she’d been sending letters to a fort. How could she have possibly misunderstood?
The walk across the field that separated the Lewis’ home, where Ella was dropped off by the stage, and the little shop in which Chaplain Malone worked seemed like three miles rather than the three hundred feet that it was.
When they finally reached the shop, Jack thought he might expire from heat—or be suffocated by the undeniable tension that was still filling the air between them, choking them both.
Three minutes later, the vows were said and it was time for the awkward kiss that would seal their union.
Most men would be put off by the wide eyes and tight lips that presented themselves to him; Jack was not.
He obviously lacked the charm and finesse that Gray oozed in the company of ladies, yet he had no intention of letting her expression deter him from what might be the only kiss he’d be allowed to have for a while. Not that he thought it would be a long time before he was kissing her again, of course. If he kissed her right the first time, it would just make her that much more susceptible to his charm. He liked the idea of that and a slow smile crossed his face at the same time something flickered in her eyes. It wasn’t fear exactly, nor did it appear to be the excitement that shone in them earlier; frankly he didn’t know what it was, nor did he have time to contemplate it when Chaplain Malone’s gruff cough tore him from his trance.
Right. He still needed to kiss her.
Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his lashes until all he could see of her through his slightly parted eyelids were her red lips and bent his head toward hers to capture her mouth in a warm kiss that should melt her resolve.
Their kiss did not ignite a scorching level of passion in her as he’d hoped it would, however.
In fact, their kiss didn’t even ignite that feeling in him.
For just as quickly as he brought his lips to hers and was about to kiss her for the first time, she swiftly pressed her puckered lips to his, kissed him, then pulled away, giving him a chaste kiss better suited for two young lovers meeting behind the barn for the first time than for a husband and wife.
There was no doubting it now. There was certainly something wrong, but damned if he knew what it was. As fluidly as he could in order not to make it appear worse than it already was, he released her and backed away, refusing to meet either Ella’s or Chaplain Malone’s eyes.
“If you two will excuse me,” the older man with bushy brows who’d just ordained this ‘union’ said, snapping his Bible closed, “I need to be gettin’ back to work. I need to finish one last thing before dinner.”
“Right,” Jack clipped. He pulled out his silver pocket watch and frowned down at the time. It would be another hour yet before dinner. “We have plenty to do before dinner, too.”
A loud, obviously over-exaggerated sigh came from the direction of the door and filled the air. “Does that mean I’m too late to dissuade you from marrying him and taking up with me instead?” The light-heartedness of Gray’s tone might have suggested that he was only teasing, but considering the circumstances, nobody laughed.
“I’m afraid so,” Chaplain Malone put in helpfully. “Too bad ya didn’t come a minute ago. You could have seen the kiss. ‘Twas magical, wouldn’t you say, Jack?”
***
Every muscle in Ella’s body grew taut and she bit the inside of her lower lip to keep it steady at the chaplain’s words. She hadn’t intended to pull away from Jack when he’d bent to kiss her; it just happened. One minute she’d resigned herself to the fact that she was about to become the wife of the man who’d deceived her and she needed to put forth her best effort to be amenable; then the next, she was pulling away from him.
Of course, it was partly his own fault. Or rather that of his actions.
Cupping her face with his big, strong hands, lowering his lashes at her as if this was all a very romantic scene, then acting as if he was about to kiss her with all the passion of an entranced lover. It didn’t sway her. It stoked her ire, is what it did. How could he act as if everything was perfectly fine, when it wasn’t?
“Yes, it was just that—magical,” Jack said in a tone that gave nothing away. His eyes narrowed on his friend. “Is there a reason you’re here?”
“Just to bring you the key to your room.” Gray took a brass key from his pocket and tossed it to Jack.
Jack caught it easily enough with one hand, his cheeks coloring slightly. “I trust you denied your childish urges and didn’t leave any sort of...er...surprise in there for us?”
Gray threw his hands up into the air. “The thought didn’t even enter my mind.” He dropped his hands to his sides and a serious expression came over his face, then he cocked his head to the side. “Though, now that makes me wonder abou
t your childish urges.”
Something happened just then. Something fierce and unknown. Something Ella didn’t understand.
Jack’s face looked different somehow, harder almost, as he tore his gaze away from Gray and turned his attention to where Chaplain Malone was banging his hammer against a thick piece of metal. “Thanks for the wedding, Malone,” Jack said, placing his hand on Ella’s arm just above the elbow. His grip was feather-light, almost as if he didn’t want to be touching her.
She dismissed the thought and allowed him to steer her out of the room and toward the row of log cabins she’d seen from the window of the stage she’d ridden in on.
As they got closer to the log structure, she noticed it wasn’t just the back of one, but there were several that ran together with a little alley between them. An odd sense of nostalgia settled over her. Fort Gibson was set up in an identical manner as so many of the forts she’d been to as a child. Jack led her through the alley that was near the corner. She froze, taking it all in. To her right was the longest two-story log cabin she’d ever seen. To her left was another. And across from her were two more. In its entirety, there were four long rows of connected log cabins, all met at points, forming a large square. At each corner of the square, there was what appeared to be an additional story, giving it a tower-like appearance.
Jack gave her arm a gentle squeeze and then led her across the dirt and the few patches of trampled grass that covered the inside of the square, toward an open door on the other side. She truly wished that he’d slow his pace, for her tired—and itchy—legs were having trouble keeping up, but she was hesitant to ask him. Whatever had happened between Jack and Gray had seemed to upset him and she didn’t wish to upset him more.
“Wh-where are we?” Ella asked when Jack ushered her into a closet-like room that had nothing more than two shabby, but perfectly made beds and a bureau that looked like it had fallen down a half dozen flights of stairs.
Jack chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here in just a few minutes. I need to gather my things.”
“Your things?”
He released her arm and walked over to the bureau that had certainly seen better days. He pulled out the bottom drawer and a large screech filled the air. Startled, she jumped. “Sorry,” he murmured. He pulled out a neat stack of folded garments and tossed them on the bed. “By things, I mean my clothes and personal effects. Don’t worry though, you’ll still have plenty of space in our room to put everything you brought. I don’t have much.” He flashed her a smile that would have made her knees turn to water if she hadn’t been so distracted by the rest of his statement.
“So this was your room, before...”
He nodded, pulling out a handful of small items she couldn’t see very well. Then he sighed and met her eyes. “The room itself won’t be larger than this, I’m afraid, but there will only be one bed as opposed to the two you see in here and we’ll have more than just a shared bureau.”
A bitter taste filled her mouth. “Is a nicer room a benefit of being married?” She supposed she should have known the answer to this already, but she’d been fifteen when her father retired and hadn’t been too concerned with the sleeping arrangements of those who lived at the fort.
He gave her a queer look. “In a manner of speaking, yes. There are too many commissioned officers for each of us to have our own room. There are only four private rooms and about sixteen commissioned officers here at any given time. Lack of furniture and rooms means only the officers who are married receive the private rooms.”
“And the rest share a room with another officer?” she guessed.
“Or three.”
“Three?”
He nodded. “Until Wes married, he was in this room, too.” He tossed down all the items in his hands, which appeared to be a hodgepodge of keys, matches, a few coins and a small picture. “Gray and McCorkle share that bed and Wes and I used to share this one. After he married Allison, I slept alone for a while, but then Raymond Smith came and became my bedmate.” He scowled and reached under the bed he’d just indicated, then retrieved a pair of high cut black leather boots. “Now that I won’t be in here, I have a feeling Gray will exercise his authority as highest-ranking officer and make McCorkle and Smith share a bed,” he said as casual as can be.
His careless tone and easy words agitated her in a way she’d never have thought possible. Was that why he’d sought a wife? To have more room? A private room at that. One where he didn’t have to share such a small space with three others, but only one? As for his co-sleeping, she knew it happened. It was a necessity in many areas of the country. Her own father had told her about it in his stories of the war and his early days in the military. She just should have listened to more of his stories about his life before he’d married, she supposed. No, actually, she didn’t suppose. She had no idea when she came here that she would be living at a fort as the wife of a military officer. He’d only said he earned his keep by work he did for the Army. He never said he was in the Army.
She tried to ignore the crushing sensation in her chest. “And where will our room be?” she asked in a tone that sounded forced even to her own ears.
“Upstairs.” He grabbed his things as best he could, and she almost felt sorry for him and offered to carry something. Almost. Petty as it might seem, she felt used already and had no intention of allowing him to find yet another way to use her presence here as a means to ease his life. “Come, I’ll show you.”
Their room wasn’t far away. In fact, it was close. Directly upstairs, actually.
“Could you uh...”
Ella shook her head and reached into his pocket to retrieve the brass key Gray had given him. Then without hesitation, she opened the door and walked right inside, heedless to his inability to enter without dropping something.
The faded and threadbare green curtains on the far wall were open in the middle, revealing a room with only the necessary items: a four-drawer bureau, a table with two chairs, a tall, open rack with four shelves, a fireplace, a chest and the most basic of things: an unembellished, simple bed that appeared twice as wide as the one downstairs.
“Oh look, Jack, perhaps you and your friends can move into this room and all four of you can share the bed.” The words were out before she could think better of it, and the blank look on his face made her want to laugh. She shook her head and dropped her gaze to where her chests were lined up and stacked just inside the door, her soft-sided traveling bags on top of the bed.
“I know it seems barren right now,” Jack said, pushing into the room. “But I’ve been saving a bit of money each month for you to decorate it however you wish. Within reason, of course.”
“Of course.” She offered him a slight smile. It was the best she could do, considering how hurt she still felt about being led here by lies and snared by her own pride.
As if to show her that they weren’t completely without amenities, he placed his clothes in the first drawer of the bureau, then opened the oak chest that resided at the end of the bed. He sank to his haunches and pulled out a variety of items: tin plates and cups, silver to eat with, a plain basin and mismatched pitcher, and most notably, a chamberpot.
She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he set it down. At least she wouldn’t have to go outside to tend to her needs.
Jack chuckled at her reaction, then went to putting things where he thought they might belong. “If you’ll give me a list of what all you think we’ll need, I can see what Charles has in his store tomorrow.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Is there a reason you’re volunteering to go? Isn’t it the woman’s duty to shop for the household?”
He didn’t stop or hesitate. “If you’d like to go, I’ll go with you. But it’s probably best you don’t go alone.”
She sighed and twisted her lips. Of course. He must either think of her as a docile creature incapable of anything or be worried she’d discover something else unsavory about him while sh
opping. She closed her eyes against the tears that welled there and busied herself by unpacking one of her traveling bags.
This is what you wanted. To start over with a man who wants you. She blinked her eyes and rummaged through her bag. But this man doesn’t want me, she argued with herself. He wanted a wife, but not her. She shifted and removed a small leather bag from her traveling bag. In this bag, she kept her most needed items: hairbrush, comb, hand mirror and other grooming necessities. She pulled them out and fingered the intricate designs on the handles. Slowly, she walked them over to the bureau and placed them in a neat little row along the right side, ignoring the two warm tears that had escaped from her eyes and were blazing a path down her cheeks. Not wanting to bring attention to herself, she refused to sniffle but used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes and under her nose. It wasn’t ladylike, to be sure, but it was better than showing weakness.
She pulled a few more items from her bag and mindlessly shifted her weight, allowing her left leg to touch her right. She stilled. She’d been denying scratching this persistent itch practically since she’d climbed into the stage to leave Fort Smith. Biting her lip, she allowed herself to finally “scratch” the itch as best she could, using her left leg to rub that itchy spot on her right. Doing so provided temporary relief from the pain Jack had caused but brought another kind of pain: a physical type. Drat it all, she’d been too vigorous and now her leg was tender—and still itchy.
Sighing with frustration, she grabbed the small jewelry box she’d brought with her and set it down on the bureau with more force than was necessary.
Jack jerked his head around to face her. “Is something wrong?”
She wanted to laugh and almost did, as the crushing weight of the situation she now found herself in threatened to overtake her. “Just a lot to do, that’s all.”
