Pretending to Wed

by Melissa Jagears

  The doctor scowled. “What about this morning?”

  “He assured me he did it.”

  “He did it?”

  “Yes.” Why was he so upset?

  “You need to do it.”

  She blinked. “I thought—”

  “I wouldn’t have brought you into my office yesterday if Nolan could do it himself.”

  Corinne’s jaw hardened. How dare Nolan make her look like she’d pawned off her responsibilities. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

  Well, she did know, but she’d taken Nolan at his word. “I’ll take care of things once I get home.”

  “You need to stretch his leg every day he doesn’t see me, Mrs. Key.” And with that, the doctor took his coat from Leah and walked out.

  Plunging her hands back into the water, Corinne started scrubbing.

  “Are you all right?” Leah’s voice was soft and worried.

  Looking down, Corinne realized she was strangling a delicate chemise. She forced her fingers to loosen and slow, ignoring the tingling she’d aggravated. If she had to massage Nolan’s leg tonight… “I’m fine, yes. Let’s get to work.”

  Seemed Nolan did need her help—but didn’t want it.

  Unfortunately for him, he needed to be at full capacity to run their ranch profitably—and she intended to make sure he was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  In the barn, Nolan poured fresh oats into a bucket while trying to keep his crutches beneath him.

  Blacky sneezed multiple times. “Goodness, girl, what’s gotten into you?”

  He hobbled over and patted the mule’s neck. She put her muzzle in her oat sack and started sneezing again.

  Opening the gate, he led her out into the fading daylight, thankful she wasn’t a spirited youngster anymore. The pack animal sneezed a few more times, but soon enough, she changed back to her normal self as she ripped up grass.

  Nolan headed back inside, looking for something out of the ordinary. Had Corinne hung a bouquet of ragweed from the rafters?

  He examined every corner of Blacky’s stall, then stuck his hand into the oats and recoiled. Pulling out a handful, he ran his fingers through it. Was it his imagination or were they wet? He looked up to the roof, but saw no pinpricks of fading sunlight—not that it would’ve mattered if there’d been a gigantic hole, considering it hadn’t rained in a while. He grabbed another handful and smelled them. They sure didn’t smell good. Had a critter relieved itself in the oats? Taking out the bag, Nolan dumped the ruined grain outside.

  Wagon wheels crunching on the road made him look up.

  Corinne. With an empty wagon. Surely she hadn’t come back earlier today, unpacked, and returned to Armelle without him noticing.

  He started toward her, but stopped short. Was she glaring at him or squinting against the dying sun?

  Circling around him, she pulled into the barn, and he followed her inside. Letting his eyes readjust, he was surprised to find she’d already jumped down and was unhitching the horse. What fire was driving her?

  “I’d thought you’d have a load of—”

  “Are you supposed to be out and about?” She swished past him and started unbuckling the horse.

  “I’m not an invalid.” He moved to help her unhitch.

  She narrowed her eyes at him over the top of the horse. “And I’m not a sluggard.”

  He flinched at her vehemence. Had someone in town said she was? “If anyone thinks you’re lazy, they’re addled.”

  Her dress was wrinkled oddly in places, and a few tendrils of her hair hung undone—not too unusual for Corinne. She’d obviously worked hard all day—yet at what?

  She didn’t look bad, though—the glow in her cheeks made her a touch prettier. Though with the way she was yanking off straps, the attractive flush in her cheeks might be from whatever was annoying her. “Be careful. Don’t—”

  “Do you know who lectured me for not doing as I ought?” She stomped over to the wall to hang up tack.

  It’d been a long time since he’d lived with a female in the house, but he remembered well enough this tone meant he was in for it. “Whoever it was, it doesn’t matter.”

  “The doctor. He’s the one who got onto me for shirking duties.” She turned to glare at him, her hands jammed on her hips. “You can’t massage and stretch your leg by yourself—and you knew it.”

  “I, uh—”

  “And I had to do laundry all day.” She grabbed Buttermilk’s curry comb. “You thought my hands hurt earlier? Well, they’re worse now, but that doesn’t matter. I told him I hadn’t stretched your leg, repeating what you’d said about doing it yourself. I took your word for it.”

  He’d not said he could do his stretches on his own, but it was likely best to keep that to himself right now. “Why were you doing laundry?”

  “Leah needed help, but that’s not what matters.” She shook a finger at him. “You’re getting a massage whether you want one or not.”

  The sparks in her eyes and her exaggerated expressions were adorable. An angry woman likely wouldn’t cotton to being called adorable, though. Even if it was the truth and not romantic nonsense.

  “Why are you grinning like that?”

  He pressed his lips together.

  “You heard me? You’re not avoiding this again.”

  He couldn’t help but loose a chuckle. “All right, you win. But then, I don’t think any man would fight too hard if a woman like you so vehemently wants to get her hands on his body.”

  The anger drained from her face like water from a washtub. She opened her mouth but then closed it.

  He winked and then hobbled out. Without a doubt, she wouldn’t pester him again after that.

  But goodness, for a second there, he’d wished…

  No, he’d not start thinking about how he could enjoy an actual marriage, because she’d been clear she didn’t want one. He was and would remain content with the partnership.

  And with how exhausted he was after hobbling around the ranch this afternoon, he should fall straight to sleep tonight. Which was the best thing for the both of them until she was out of his room.

  The mantel clock chimed ten and Corinne kept up a steady, unhurried stitch as she mended the last item from Nolan’s pile. She would triple stitch his nightshirt if necessary to keep from going to bed before he did.

  Matt glanced up again, looking between both of them and the clock, before straightening his paper with a shake and going back to reading.

  The satisfied grin Nolan had sported throughout dinner had waned the later she’d sat up with them darning and mending. He was still reading his book, but his page turns were slower than when he’d started this evening. He’d only attempted to remind her of the time once, to which she’d responded with a smile and a ‘yes, dear’ before returning to her sewing.

  Shockingly, Matt had chosen to read the county paper to himself rather than ponder aloud every article, filling the room with nonstop, pretentious chatter. Seemed he knew there was a showdown going on.

  And she was going to win it.

  During dinner, Nolan’s self-satisfied smile had made it known he’d somehow believed he’d gotten the upper hand. After he’d left the barn, while the heat alternately drained from and returned to her cheeks, she’d worried Nolan was like his cousin, thinking he was irresistible to women. Not that Matt outright flirted with her, but he certainly preened and flattered himself when talking about the women in his acquaintance, as if he couldn’t help but attract feminine admiration.

  Nolan had never struck her as an overly confident man, despite his decent looks and being a man of property. She’d definitely never heard him say anything so shocking as what he’d said to her in the barn—with a rakish grin to boot.

  She pulled out a knot and contemplated throwing a pillow at him.

  Talk to her as a business partner? Sure, she’d hear him out.

  But what he’d said in the barn was not how one talks to a business partner.

  Sh
e frowned at her empty teacup and glanced at the clock. She shouldn’t have more to drink, but she was running out of things to do. How long did the men usually stay up anyway? “Would anyone like more tea?”

  “None for me.” Matt stayed immersed in his paper.

  “Don’t you think you should turn in, darlin’?” Nolan’s expression looked halfway worried, halfway exhausted.

  She shot him a sly smile. “I’m waiting for you.” She headed for the kitchen but stopped by his side. She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “As you mentioned earlier, I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

  He fidgeted uncomfortably, the tips of his ears turning crimson.

  Good, that ought to teach him to embarrass her in an effort to get his way. She straightened and swished past.

  Behind her, Nolan’s throat clearing sounded almost like he was choking. “Uh, I hope you don’t mind if I turn in before you head out, Matt. Good night.”

  Without waiting, she stomped up the stairs, knowing it’d take him plenty of time to follow on crutches. She needed the time to sit on the bed and breathe before he arrived. Just because she was miffed at him didn’t mean she should lay into him. She’d gotten her point across—she hoped.

  The door eased open minutes later, pushed in by one of Nolan’s crutches. He looked straight at her as he swung his body inside. “Good job.”

  “Good job?”

  “Yeah.” He awkwardly shut the door behind him. “If Matt harbored any doubts about us, they’re likely gone now.”

  “That’s not why I said that.”

  “I guess I had it coming.”

  “Correct.” She stood and pointed to the spot she’d just vacated. “Along with this. You may not want a nurse, but you’re getting one.”

  He stilled.

  All right, so maybe she hadn’t sat and breathed long enough. But snapped or gently worded, he wasn’t going to avoid the command.

  “I don’t need a nurse.”

  “If you don’t get better, then we don’t make money. The doctor explained if you lost more of your leg or its mobility—if you don’t die of infection first—it would take a while to readjust, and we don’t have time for that.”

  His face didn’t soften, but he did nod. However, he didn’t move.

  She took another step away from the bed so he could pass by her more easily. “Don’t make me take your clothes off.”

  His eyes widened and then he suddenly lost all his coloring.

  Her ears grew hot. She likely looked as silly as he had downstairs with red ears. But he still didn’t move. As if he were … more afraid than embarrassed.

  “Nolan, I’ve seen your leg at the doctor’s office, remember?” She could understand not wanting to be vulnerable in front of a near stranger, but they hadn’t much choice. “If the doctor or I don’t do this, then a nurse would. Think of me as a nurse.”

  He shook his head adamantly. “I didn’t ask for you to be that.”

  “I know, but we’re stuck.” She took a step toward him but stopped. He’d likely consider an encouraging shoulder squeeze from her a sign of pity.

  “I can—”

  “No, you can’t. And don’t you dare try to embarrass me again in an attempt to avoid this.” She patted the bed. “I’m your business partner, remember? No romantic nonsense. If this is necessary to ensure our ranch runs smoothly, we push aside our ‘rather nots’ and forge on.”

  He let out a sigh before trudging over to the bed, as much as a man on crutches could trudge. Once he leaned his crutches against the footboard, he took a deep breath and then moved to undo his belt.

  Good.

  She turned her back. “I’ll get the salve and whatever else we might need.”

  Slipping out the door, she prayed Matt had left for the bunkhouse. She’d rather not have to talk to him again tonight.

  The parlor was thankfully dark. From the linen closet, she gathered up towels, soap, and water.

  Upon her return, Nolan had propped himself up against the headboard, his arms crossed over his chest, a quilt thrown across his lap.

  Corinne arranged her things on the bedside table, then reached for the quilt.

  Nolan’s hand grabbed hers. “I’ll do it.”

  He pulled the corner of his blanket higher, uncovering just the end of his leg’s stub. “That’s all you need to tend to.”

  She eyed him, but decided to keep her words to herself for the moment. The doctor had been clear that she was to hold onto both of his legs while putting his shortened one through its full range of motion. After squeezing out the excess water from her rag, she unwrapped the bandage and began to bathe the wound that was slightly weeping, though the scab looked good.

  The crickets’ chirping and the clock’s ticking mixed in with the swishing of water and Nolan’s controlled breathing. She patted his leg dry and lathered on the salve. Once she cut off the end of the new bandage and tied it, she rolled up the excess. “I need you to slide down now.”

  He stared straight ahead. The muscles in his arms bunched even more where they were crossed tight across his chest.

  Was he in pain? The doctor had made her realize she wasn’t good at noticing such. Somehow she doubted he wanted to talk about it, so she moved herself off the bed and with a firm hand, nudged him to comply.

  He wriggled down to lie flat and closed his eyes.

  Without asking, she tugged up the blanket and set to work.

  At his low growl, she stopped to look at him. His lips were screwed up as if he’d just eaten the most disgusting thing he’d ever put in his mouth.

  He must be hurting, but he hadn’t asked her to stop. If what she was doing was making things worse, surely he’d tell her. She turned back to her task and worried her lip over how stiff and quiet he was.

  Though the time felt short, her hands couldn’t take much more. With gentle movements, she pulled down the leg of his drawers, noting the bandage was damp where it was still seeping. Neither of them likely wanted to go through the process of re-bandaging though.

  The second she pulled the quilt over his legs, he turned his back to her.

  “I’m going to get ready for bed now,” she whispered.

  If only Matt weren’t still around, she could’ve let Nolan sleep in peace.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Nolan.”

  Corinne’s voice whispered to him from somewhere in the darkness.

  Her hand pressed against his chest, and his eyes flew open. He blinked hard in the gray light.

  “Sorry.” Corinne took her hand away, leaving a cold spot above his heart. “I didn’t mean to scare you awake.”

  With his pulse rushing at a chaotic clip, he closed his eyes and dropped his head back onto his pillow with a thump.

  “You sure wake up hard.” Corinne sat beside him, the mattress dipping to his left. “In case Leah needs help again, I’m going into town early to get the rest of my things.”

  “That’s fine,” his voice grated out. He let his body sink back into the dark of sleep.

  “So I’ll need to do your leg now.”

  His warm quilt moved. He yanked it back. “No.”

  “We talked about this.”

  “I’m not in control yet.”

  The quilt moved again.

  He forced his eyes open and pushed himself into a sitting position, dragging the covering with him. He glared at her. “I said no.”

  She studied him. “What do you need to be in control of?”

  “Myself.” Sleeping next to her was hard enough—she needed to keep her hands off him. He yawned and tried to rub the sleep from his face. “And I don’t want to explain to an innocent like you.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks flushed.

  He dropped his hands. “If you want to get to town early, you’ll have to do so without attending to me.”

  She sat there for a minute and then let out a noisy exhale. “I think I ought to tell you something.” Her gaze anchored to his chest. “What’s your op
inion of me?”

  He rubbed his face again. Sleep was not giving him up easily. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand the question.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “How would you describe me to someone if you weren’t trying to be polite and was assured I’d never hear? The unbridled truth.”

  Corinne certainly knew how to start a day. “I’d tell them you were beautiful, smart, curious, sensible, hardworking—” He interrupted himself with a yawn. If his brain was more awake, he might’ve been able to add to the list.

  “Well…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “That was nicer than I’d expected.”

  He pushed himself up straighter. “Which do you disagree with?”

  She played with a loose thread on the quilt. “None, though I’m not sure about the smart thing.”

  “I shoved enough of your contraptions into the wagon to know you’re smart.”

  “None are any good.”

  Where had the Corinne who spoke so decisively gone? “If you weren’t smart, you’d not be drawn to tinkering, regardless of whether you’ve made something you like yet.”

  She raised one shoulder. “Thank you, but still, nothing you said would be how people would’ve described me back in Chicago.”

  “Maybe you misjudged them, because though we were only acquaintances weeks ago, I saw all those things.”

  She just sat blinking at him.

  He clenched his fists to keep from reaching over to cup her face, look deep into her eyes, and repeat his list. Why didn’t she believe those things about herself? “How old were you when you accepted Christ?”

  “Um, eight.”

  “I can’t imagine you lived such a wicked life before then that you’ve had to struggle to overcome it.”

  “I accepted God’s forgiveness when I was young, yes. But I didn’t realize how much I’d need it until later.” She looked back down at her lap. “When I was almost seventeen, I fell in love with a man.”

  He stiffened, preparing himself for whatever she was about to reveal.

  “My life was drudgery at home, so I hired myself out to a widower with a young son.”