“Wait.” He swallowed. “Jack’s married?” The room seemed brighter all of sudden. His heart beat a little more steadily against his ribs.
“That’s right.” Her voice was soft, subdued. “And about the other?”
She didn’t repeat her question, but the flash of uncertainty in her eyes told him his answer had the power to devastate her. She’d been jilted. That much was evident from what she’d said, but more so from what she hadn’t said. He had no intention of adding to her pain.
“I’d like to make a go of this marriage too,” he stated firmly and noticed how the stiff line of her body loosened ever so slightly.
She closed her eyes briefly, and he had the distinct impression she’d worked up her courage to ask him and was relieved at his answer.
“Isaac”—her voice was a bit strained, which immediately made him wonder what she could possibly say next—“there’s one more thing. I’d like to know— That is, what were you thinking— I mean, are you planning to...” Her words trailed off in a mortified whisper. She could barely make herself look at him, that much was clear. “When are you planning to come to our bed?” she finally blurted out.
What a question!
A heady warmth flooded Isaac. He wanted to be next to her. He wanted to kiss her right then and there, maybe even tell her tonight. His pulse took off at an alarming rate. It was all he could do to stay where he was.
Slow down. Just this morning he was thinking about sending her away. It was all too sudden.
“It may take some time for us both to come to terms with—with everything,” he said. “For now, it just doesn’t seem quite right to share a bed.” He suddenly felt like a bumbling seventeen-year-old, all flushed and gawky.
If his men could see him now... Well, it didn’t bear thinking about.
Her gaze fell from his, and she ducked her chin low. He wondered why that made him feel so guilty. You’d think she’d be relieved. Somehow, he’d crushed her feelings. He didn’t like the sensation. So he pushed his covers aside and crossed over to her, sitting next to her—close but not touching. He took her hand and squeezed it.
“It’s not that I don’t want that. Given time, of course.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. It would have to be enough for now. Earlier that morning, he’d been set to ship her back home. Now, he just felt confused.
Rebecca’s brow furrowed fleetingly, then cleared, and she offered him one of her full, knock-him-over smiles. “Fair enough.” She stood, landing lightly on her feet. “Well, then, goodnight,” she said.
Her smile dimmed bit as she walked out of his grasp, letting his hand fall to the mattress. He watched as she disappeared around the edge of the curtain.
The door to the back room soon clicked shut. Closing his eyes, he fell back against his father’s bed and finally gave voice to the groan he’d been holding back. Even now, he felt drawn to her. Liked her. He’d been all set to stifle his growing feelings and send her back home, but now she’d turned the tables on him by telling him Jack was married.
Her directness had surprised him. She hadn’t promised him she could come to love him someday. She’d extended her friendship and no more. She’d spoken plainly with him—painfully so. Her honor drew him like no other feminine charm could have. Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. He definitely found her attractive. Her unexpected question about their marriage bed had only served to remind him that he was a man and she was a woman. His heart was still pounding uncomfortably fast.
He’d have to be satisfied for now with a relationship based on companionship. Later, if she showed signs of letting go of Jack—and perhaps when his pride didn’t sting so much—they could become man and wife in a real sense. On that unsettling thought, he returned to his bed, turned down the lamp, and rolled over to try to sleep.
***
Becky paced her room, going over her conversation with Isaac again and again in her mind. He’d accepted her offer of friendship, which was a relief, but he’d drawn a line of sorts between them as well. The only possible explanation was he wasn’t sure if he wanted her for a wife. His words were coming from a feeling of duty and commitment—nothing more. Though she didn’t have the right to expect it, part of her felt the tug of wanting more. She couldn’t afford to be so fickle-hearted, she told herself. She’d offered her friendship. He’d accepted. End of story.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she decided to focus on what she could do to forge a new beginning between them. With a determined lift of her chin, she unpacked the red cotton fabric she’d bought for a work shirt for him and set about cutting out the pattern and piecing it together. She wasn’t much of a seamstress, but she kept the lines simple, and before long she was sitting cross-legged on her bed trying to make neat, even stitches. The repetitive task of pushing the needle in and out of the fabric brought a feeling a peace she hadn’t felt during all her pacing and fretting.
There was a form of contentment in doing what she could and not worrying about the rest.
***
After several days of newfound peace with his bride, Isaac could now go about his work without feeling guilty about it. Each evening after dinner, Rebecca sewed while sitting in the rocker and softly humming her waltz. Although the tune was an uncomfortable reminder of Jack—the man she loved—he admitted to himself that he enjoyed the domestic scene. He liked the way her hair would have loosened from its knot by the end of the day, how the reddish-gold strands curled about her face and neck.
He found himself thinking about just such a scene one morning as he stood in a recently cleared area with his father. They were supposed to be organizing their next swath for felling, but Isaac couldn’t concentrate fully on the map. Thoughts of Rebecca brought up other concerns.
“Harper said there’s a mean grizzly running loose,” Isaac said, speaking his worries aloud, sharing the news as if he had no more than a casual interest. Rebecca was a city girl. She wouldn’t know what to do if she came upon a bear. He absently worried a loose cord on his vest.
Though he’d purposefully not mentioned Rebecca, Pop took one look at his face and came right to the point. “You’re going to have to teach her to shoot.”
An image of Rebecca’s small womanly hands gripping a rifle flickered through Isaac’s mind. It just seemed...wrong.
“What?” His father’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“I don’t know—”
“She can’t stay in the cabin for the rest of her life—now, can she?”
“No.” Isaac sighed in defeat.
You just couldn’t argue with Pop.
“I came by the other day and no one was about.” His father glanced at him, his steel-gray eyes openly curious.
“We went into town for supplies. Need anything?”
“Thanks, I’ll stop by.” Pop seemed especially satisfied with the idea of dropping by the cabin. He seemed to enjoy spending time with Rebecca, and Isaac wondered what they found to talk about.
“Saw Dally at the feed store,” he said, remembering. “Been a long time since I’d seen him last. He was surprised to hear I was married. Invited Rebecca and me to a dance up at his place next week.” Telling Pop about Dally reminded him that he hadn’t mentioned the dance to Rebecca yet. He hadn’t been sure at the time if she was even staying, and then, with all that had happened since, he’d sort of forgotten about it.
“Good, good. Always liked Dally.” Pop shrugged and turned his attention back to the map spread in front of them on the stump serving as their worktable. “I think we should move the crew here next. Easy access to the Skid Road.” He traced a line with his finger across the page. “And not too far from the logging camp either.”
“Right. Let’s plan on it.” Isaac drew a circle on the map and rolled it up, tucking it under his arm.
“Teach the gal to shoot, Son. You won’t regret it.” Pop grabbed his shoulder and gave him a fatherly shake.
“Okay, Pop.” Isaac grinned at him, but felt a wave of une
asiness about the idea. The image of Rebecca with a gun didn’t sit right at all, but maybe spending some time together would help their newfound peace to grow into friendship. Although, he already felt drawn to her too much for comfort.
“And you won’t forget to tell your old pop if you and your bride have some particularly good news?” Pop’s brows wagged suggestively.
“All right, Pop.” Isaac couldn’t help laughing at his father’s antics, but he couldn’t meet those all-too-observant steel-blue eyes. Pop could read him like no other person could. He almost wished he could assure his father that someday soon he’d be a grandfather But the jumbled mess of Isaac’s mind and heart needed untangling before he and Rebecca could set off on having a baby—that much was certain. Even as he made the resolution, an image of Rebecca with an infant tucked in her arms and a sweet smile of contentment on her lips filled him with unexpected longing. He shook the feeling off.
That wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.
***
Watching Isaac pace the room after breakfast the next morning, Becky knew a moment of panic. He obviously had something he wanted to say, but hesitated saying it. Her mind searched for any mistake she may have made, something she’d forgotten to do. Had he discovered she’d forgotten to fasten Trouble’s gate yesterday? The goat had nibbled on some of the laundry on the line before Becky caught her at it and returned her to the barn. The rascal had even taken a nip out of Becky’s hem along the way, and she was still trying to fix the damage.
Had Sam told Isaac he didn’t know anything about “the game”?
She continued to repair the hem of her torn skirt and watched her husband out of the corner of her eye. When he finally spoke, she jumped a little, and met his gaze with a sinking, guilty sensation in her stomach. She raised her eyebrows in what she hoped was an innocent-looking fashion.
Isaac coughed into his hand and then tugged at his collar with his index finger. “I’m going to need to show you how to shoot a gun.”
Becky slowly released the breath she’d been holding and blinked at him in relief, until she realized the implication of his words. She wasn’t supposed to know how to shoot a gun. She was supposed to be a perfectly proper young lady. Her cheeks cooled as the blood drained from her face. She forced a swallow. “Oh?”
“Harper’s seen bear in the area.” He cast her a nervous-looking glance and rushed on. “Now, I don’t want you scared of your own shadow or anything, but you’ll need to know how to handle a weapon. I can’t always be here protecting you, so I’d like you to know how to protect yourself. That being said, you’ll still need to stay close to the cabin. Some bears come looking for trash, so we’ll have to be even more careful how we dispose of food.”
She should have told him about seeing the grizzly that day by the stream. They were careful to bury the garbage anyway, but she should have mentioned it. Then again that would have involved telling him she’d wandered farther from the cabin than he would have liked.
“So.” He cleared his throat again, looking more than a little uncomfortable with the idea. “I’ll go get my rifle, and we’ll head out.”
“Now?” Becky knew a moment of panic. He wanted to go right now. There was no time to think it through. She’d have to plan out her strategy along the way.
He was already checking the barrel of his rifle and loading his pockets with bullets.
“I’ll just be a moment.” Becky ducked into her room. Her dress was a simple cotton day dress, and she’d abandoned the hooped crinoline days ago. Isaac hadn’t seemed to notice the change anyway, so she’d opted for petticoats this morning. She fanned her cheeks with her hands, trying to clear her thoughts. She’d just have to pretend to be learning from scratch. How hard could that be?
On that not-so-comforting thought, she grabbed up her cape and bonnet, wishing she could wear her familiar old hunting trousers and hat.
They left the horses back at the barn and hiked up the mountain a ways. Isaac set up a row of bottles at the base of an enormous fir and jogged back to join her, all business-like. He swung his rifle off his back and gave her a demonstration of how to load the weapon properly, how to point it away from others while handling it, and how to raise it to the pocket of her shoulder and aim. Becky watched him, admiring the way he moved. He handled the weapon with such ease, obviously confident in his skill.
“Now, it’s your turn,” he said. She watched as he placed the hammer at half cock, opened the breech block, and removed the bullet. He snapped it back in place and handed her the weapon unloaded.
Pretending to find the weight of the gun unfamiliar, she allowed her arms to drop a bit lower than she would have normally. The gun was a little heavier than hers, but it wasn’t that much different than Jack’s, the one he’d first taught her with.
“It’s heavy.” She pulled her lips in and swiped them with her tongue to ease the sudden dryness in her mouth. She offered Isaac a hesitant smile and hefted the rifle a little higher. Although careful to keep the gun pointed away from him, she held it at a deliberately awkward angle.
“Is this right?” she asked.
He frowned and corrected the position by placing his hands on her forearms and shifting the gun’s weight forward.
“Now, try to load it,” he said.
She blinked at him for a moment, then frowned in concentration as she fumbled with the hammer and block.
“This way.” His tone was patient and quiet. He guided her hands and helped her open the block. He handed her a bullet and watched as she placed it in backwards. “The other way.” Still patient, but slightly alarmed.
“Oh. Sorry.” She grinned at him weakly and turned the bullet around. Deciding not to press her luck too far, she closed the breech block with a nice sharp click and looked at him for his next directions.
“Good.” He sounded pleased, and she decided her decision to show some competency had been a good one. “Now, the hammer.” He pointed to it, in case she’d forgotten what was what, Becky supposed.
She fully cocked the hammer just as he’d done earlier, and he nodded.
“Good, now aim it at the bottle like I showed you and shoot.”
Becky lifted the barrel, aimed directly at the leftmost bottle, and then found her own target just beyond it, a bare spot on the enormous fir. Squeezing the trigger slowly, she waited until her bullet hit her target, missing the bottle completely, and then gasped. “I had no idea it would be so loud.” She squinted at him as if in pain.
“Don’t worry about not hitting anything your first try. It’ll take some practice to improve your aim, but with time you’ll be hitting those bottles every time.” He grinned with an obviously forced enthusiasm.
Becky smiled weakly. She’d never played down her skill before, and it felt like lying. Maybe it was. She certainly felt a little sick inside.
“Here.” Isaac took the rifle from her, reloaded quickly and expertly, and shot one of the bottles, shattering it. “See how I line up and look down the barrel?” He held the gun up to show her how to aim and handed it back to her.
After missing another few rounds, Becky hesitantly allowed herself to chip the neck of the leftmost bottle on her next, producing a shout from Isaac.
“That’s it!”
She felt a burst of happiness at his smile, but knew he’d find it strange if she hit the remaining bottles. So she missed the next two and nicked the third at the base.
“We’ll call it a day for now.” Isaac took the gun from her, loaded it, and then hung it across his back.
“You’re leaving it loaded?”
“Just to be safe.” Isaac looked off into the trees. He gave her a comforting smile. “But we probably won’t run into any trouble.”
Becky looked off into the trees as well, remembering the big brown beast charging after her that day by the stream, and how naked she’d felt without her gun. She still felt a little naked without it, but Isaac had proved his aim was accurate, so she followed closely after him.
As Isaac gathered up the remaining bottles, Becky bent to examine her target in the tree trunk. Her bullets peppered the surface in a tight circle. She allowed herself an unobserved moment to beam with unladylike pride. With a lift of her chin, she straightened and hid the bullet holes with her skirt before he noticed.
She wondered, rather uncomfortably, if this was how a drunk felt, hiding a bottle of whiskey behind his back. It wasn’t a good feeling, especially since Isaac wanted her to learn how to shoot. He’d brought her here to teach her, hadn’t he?
It was because of the bear, of course. And he wanted her to be able to defend herself if she was attacked.
Maybe it had been wrong to hide her true talent. Pretending to be something she wasn’t left her feeling slightly sickened, like she’d swallowed something bad. Jack had taught her to shoot. But in the end he’d chosen a proper lady for his bride. So what had she been—a friend? More like a kid sister? Or even—she winced—a brother? She hadn’t thought so. She’d thought he loved her. He’d even danced with her. Kissed her once. But maybe she’d just been practice...?
She was a tight ball of confusion inside.
If only she could reveal her true talent to Isaac... If he wanted her to learn, then why not show off her skill? She pushed the fruitless idea away. If Isaac found out how well she could shoot, then he’d also find out she’d been raised an absolute hoyden. It would color his perception of her. And he’d also know she had been presenting herself in a not-so-truthful light. She felt guilty about that—prickly little stingers of guilt that dug at her everywhere—and the idea of letting Isaac in on her secret and seeing his low opinion of her was just too mortifying.
The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) Page 13
