Victoria_Bride of Kansas

by E. E. Burke

  The cat gave another plaintive meow.

  Much as he didn’t like cats, David was relieved this one had made an appearance. In spite of his reassurances to Fannie, he hadn’t been certain some hungry coyote hadn’t gotten to the stray. “Looking for something?” he asked the meowing cat.

  Victoria lowered the kitten to the floor. “Here you go, safe and sound.”

  The tabby and her orange kitten touched noses. The kitten began to mew, and the mother immediately started licking it.

  Victoria laughed. The sound of spontaneous joy was something David hadn’t heard in a long time, something he’d like to hear more often. She leaned over, addressing the cat. “Don’t worry, your baby is fine. Fannie took good care of him.”

  Faint meows came from beneath the lowest shelf mounted on the brick wall. David bent to take a look. The four other kittens crawled across a pile of rags, tumbling over each other in their haste to find their mother. The resourceful cat had gotten inside again—no doubt after Fannie left the door open—and relocated her litter to a warmer spot.

  David came to his feet. He couldn’t fault the cat’s determination to protect her brood, nor did he have the heart to scold Fannie for her dogged disobedience on their behalf. He lifted his hands. “I give up. You may stay inside.”

  The cat meowed and led her kitten away with her nose in the air, showing David what she thought of his decision to throw her out in the first place.

  A sound came from behind him, a giggle. Startled, he twisted around.

  Fannie had the doll folded against her chest and a big smile on her face.

  Saints be praised, that giggle had come from her!

  His lips lifted with no effort as he turned with gratitude to Victoria. He felt a bit ashamed for his judgmental thoughts concerning her extravagance. Had he realized what a special gift might mean to his daughter, he would’ve gladly spent whatever it cost. “Thank you for giving Fannie the doll. You’ve made her very happy.”

  “Oh, I hope so. I thought long and hard about what I should give her. I’m glad you’re pleased.” Victoria’s eyes shone with relief and, heaven help him, sweet affection.

  She might wish to please him now, but what about later, when he didn’t meet her expectations. It had taken him too long to realize Rachel had only married him to escape poverty. Then she’d left when she found someone who promised an easier life. Victoria came from wealth and was used to ease. She had all the more reason to resent hard work and sacrifice. He’d been blind to Rachel’s faithlessness, and he might be equally blind to Victoria’s faults if he allowed himself to care too much. He couldn’t take that risk. If he married her, he would have to guard against the temptation to fall in love.

  * * *

  “Let me take your bags upstairs.” David reached for her suitcase, the heart-stopping smile vanishing as if it had never been there. “I’ll show you to your room. Then we’ll get you something to eat. I’m sure you’re famished.”

  Her stomach rumbled. Famished, yes, and tired. She wasn’t sure which she wanted more, food or sleep. He’d said her room was upstairs. The implications took a moment to reassemble inside her tired brain. They lived above the store?

  Victoria turned to ask Fannie, but the girl had already run off, perhaps to show her aunt the new doll. Fannie’s delight with the gift went a long way toward easing Victoria’s fears. The doll had been a gift from her mother and was her favorite. The look of wonder on Fannie’s face made giving away the precious Bébé worth it.

  Hiking her skirts, Victoria followed her future husband up the steep stairs. Fatigue had set in and she could hardly lift her feet. She longed to have a nice dinner, take a bath and curl up on an actual mattress stuffed with cotton. Even sharing a bed with one person would an improvement over jostling with dozens of passengers for berths provided in the rail cars.

  Mr. O’Brien’s slight limp was more noticeable when he had to negotiate steps, especially while carrying heavy items. He hadn’t mentioned the disfigurement in his letter. It made no difference. Everyone had imperfections. Some just showed more than others. However, she wouldn’t repeat the mistake of offering to help him carry her bags. He might snap at her again.

  In some ways, he reminded her of an old turtle she’d discovered at a pond near her home. The grumpy tortoise would poke his head out every so often, sometimes let her touch him, but the slightest perceived danger would send him back inside his shell.

  Mr. O’Brien reached a narrow landing. He unlocked a door, swung it open, and then waited.

  She preceded him into an apartment. The central room was furnished with a sofa, stuffed chairs, scattered tables and a set of shelves stuffed with books. Nothing fancy, but comfortable, the kind of place where a family might gather.

  A pleasant chime sounded from a glass-domed clock on the mantle. Its pendulum—four chrome balls on ornate spokes hanging from a thin wire—gleamed as it spun clockwise then counterclockwise. Her father had purchased one of the anniversary clocks when they first appeared, saying the miraculous new devices would run for more than a year without intervention. He collected clocks, automatons, wind up toys; he was far more interested in mechanical marvels than he was in human beings. David hadn’t seemed like that in his letters. He’d come across as interested in her thoughts, as well as respectful and understanding of her feelings. She’d seen glimmers of that man since arriving, infrequent, but enough to know he existed.

  “Follow me.” Mr. O’Brien moved past her with the suitcases. He went down a short hall and into a bedroom.

  The furnishings were simple, almost sparse: a four-poster bed with a cheerful blue and white coverlet, a tall wardrobe, dresser and dressing table complete with pitcher and basin. Over the window, a heavy drape was drawn back to reveal sheer lace curtains. The view was the wall of the adjacent building.

  The bedroom reminded Victoria of the upstairs rooms her family provided for servants. This might be an apartment Mr. O’Brien rented out, and he decided it would be more appropriate to put her here instead of taking her into his home before they were married. Or he might not have room in his house, as his sister wasn’t leaving until after Christmas.

  He set the tapestry satchel on the table and lifted the large case onto a chair. “Fannie’s room is across the hall.”

  With that, he snuffed out Victoria’s vision of a nice house and a green lawn.

  She straightened with determination. What did she care where they lived, so long as they loved each other. David O’Brien wouldn’t have written those letters, or asked her be his wife, if he didn’t long for love. She simply had to find the right key to unlock his heart.

  “You’ll room with Maggie—until she leaves.” The hooded look he gave Victoria set off a tingling sensation beneath her skin.

  Not knowing how to respond, she hugged her arms. She’d never had these physical reactions with Bertram, not even when he’d pressed her for a kiss. He’d told her men viewed sexual relations as the primary advantage of marriage, outside of procreation. Proper women weren’t supposed to know about such things, much less dwell on them. She must not be proper, because seeing her future husband standing in the bedroom where they would consummate their marriage set off all sorts of improper thoughts.

  He returned to where she remained glued to the threshold and stood close enough she could make out fine lines beside his eyes. Laugh lines. She hadn’t seen him laugh, yet there was the evidence he had smiled and laughed a great deal at one time. Whether she could find a way to bring laughter back into his life remained to be seen. He’d smiled when Fannie giggled, a relieved, grateful smile. She would think of ways to coax other smiles out of him.

  His well-shaped lips captured her attention, and a slight cleft beneath his lower lip where he had missed shaving a spot of dark bristle. She couldn’t recall noticing Bertram’s facial hair, if he had any. The dark shadow on Mr. O’Brien’s face looked very manly. She suspected he shaved daily, even down his neck. Did the same dark hair grow on
his chest? Would it feel rough, or smooth?

  “Miss Lowell?” One of his dark eyebrows arched in a query. “Is this arrangement agreeable?”

  She jerked her gaze from his chest to his eyes. Thank heavens he couldn’t read her mind. “Yes. Thank you. It’s fine.”

  A worrisome thought struck. Were the facilities inside, or out? She’d read that many families out west still used outhouses. That must be what they meant by the term roughing it.

  “Where…where are the…where do we…?”

  “There’s a bathtub and toilet at the end of the hall.”

  Indoors, thank God.

  The corner of his mouth curled up in a half-smile. “We’re almost civilized.”

  Her nerves jumped. He could read her thoughts. No, he couldn’t. He was just teasing her again. “I’m so glad to hear it. I was afraid I might have to live in a tepee.”

  His smile broadened.

  Oh heavens. Dimples.

  Her insides melted faster than butter on hot toast. Quite possibly, he had this effect on all women, if he smiled at them like that. He had better not. From now on, she wanted those smiles directed only at her.

  As she stared at him, smitten, his expression underwent a transformation. First, the smile fell away. Then the amused light in his eyes became a blaze, which drew her like a moth, helpless to resist. The attraction grew stronger as he stepped closer. Exciting, but also a bit frightening.

  “Mr. O’Brien.” She managed his name, in a hushed whisper.

  “David,” he corrected. Even his voice set off vibrations.

  He cradled her face in his hands with the same gentleness he’d shown the kitten. “Victoria.”

  “Hmm?” If she rubbed her cheek against his palm, he might stroke her. That would be nice.

  “Your eyes are very expressive.”

  “Are they?”

  “Aye, and right now, they’re begging me to kiss you.” Before she could reply, he dipped his head and brought his lips to hers. A soft touch at first, and then with firmer pressure; warm and lush and so…

  Her eyelids fluttered shut. Oh my. He did the most amazing things with his lips…delightful things…electrifying and soothing at the same time. That didn’t seem possible, but she was too muddled to analyze it. Lured by the exotic sensations, she didn’t think it strange when he put his tongue inside her mouth and teased hers into a seductive dance.

  This was how he kissed? Bertram’s dry pecks didn’t compare with David’s sumptuous mouth-to-mouth exploration.

  As he deepened the kiss, her head grew light. She teetered at the edge of a cliff; something wild and wicked urged her to step off. His fingers tightened around her upper arms. She was glad he had a firm enough grip to uphold her else she might hurtle into the unknown.

  Trusting him to protect her, Victoria lost herself in the glorious kiss. She had no idea how long she stood there, allowing David to ravish her mouth.

  Slowly, he ended it, their lips clinging until the last moment. Still holding her arms, he gazed at her with a smoldering look that made her insides quiver.

  “Kiss me again,” she whispered.

  “Victoria.” Her name rumbled up from his chest, sounding rough, as though it hurt him to say it. For once, his eyes spoke for him. His hungry gaze, as well as his heated kisses, made it clear he yearned to possess her, but something held him back. She wished she believed it was chivalry, but that wasn’t what she saw. He distrusted her, even after she’d let him kiss her until her toes curled.

  She ought to push him away. Only that wouldn’t work in her favor. He would withdraw into his shell and the frustrating cycle would start again. She had to break through his resistance, but how? The answer came with surprising clarity. Reluctant lovers needed to be wooed.

  Generally, men did the wooing and women responded. She wasn’t sure how it was done or if she had the courage, but she had to try. This might be the key to winning his heart. If she could convince him to lower his barriers, he would learn to love her.

  Take the risk, her heart urged.

  She reached up and cupped his jaw in her palm, as he’d done to her. His lower lip, so inviting, she couldn’t resist running her thumb over the smooth flesh. Taking another bold step, she drew his head down and pressed her mouth to his. She wasn’t certain she was doing this properly, but he’d given her excellent instruction, so she applied what she’d learned.

  He groaned—a sound that could mean pain or pleasure. Grasping her shoulders, he brought her closer, taking her mouth with greater mastery than before. Pleasure, she decided.

  A moment later, he propelled her backwards into the bedroom.

  Her legs struck the bed. She fell while still holding onto him, dragging him down with her. He caught himself on his arms, perhaps to avoid crushing her, but he didn’t even try to prevent pressing his hips intimately against hers.

  He ground himself against her, all the while kissing her with wild abandon.

  The barriers had certainly come down, and in the process her defenses were laid to waste. Any thoughts of resisting were swept away in wave after wave of sensation.

  Passion surged like the ocean in the midst of a raging storm. In this instance, she wasn’t observing the tempest from the safety of a high point. She’d jumped with both feet into the churning sea. Fierce currents pulled her under, but instead of drowning, she sank into a pleasurable realm where her entire world narrowed to one man.

  She plunged her fingers into her betrothed’s thick hair, fondling feather-soft curls, dragging her nails over his scalp until he moaned along with her. Heaven help her, she wanted nothing more than to have him initiate her into lovemaking. In fact, she just might insist on it.

  The snick of a door and a patter of footsteps penetrated her sensual stupor.

  Her mind lurched back to reality. Frantic, she shoved at his shoulders. “David, someone’s here,” she cried against his mouth

  As he drew back he looked dazed and then alarmed as the sound drew closer. He twisted around at the same time she stretched her neck to look over his shoulder.

  Fannie stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, clutching her doll.

  Victoria gasped. Horrified, she pushed at David’s chest. “Get off!”

  He scrambled to free her, but in his haste, slipped and tumbled over the side of the bed. When he came up off the floor, his face had darkened to deep red. His brows knitted into a heavy scowl and his hair stuck out every which way from having her fingers buried in it. He looked fierce, frightening.

  Fannie reacted with the quick instincts of a doe. She whirled and dashed away.

  “Stop, Fannie, wait,” he bellowed.

  “No, don’t—” Victoria grabbed for David’s arm, and missed. He had a right to be furious, she’d all but invited him to ravish her, but it wasn’t Fannie’s fault, and the child shouldn’t be chastised for a foolish woman’s mistake. “Don’t go after her angry, please. She doesn’t understand.”

  David paused at the door and stood there a moment. He didn’t turn around, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. “That makes two of us.”

  Chapter 5

  David found Fannie in the far corner of the storeroom, huddled near the kittens. She held tight to the doll Victoria had given her. Not surprisingly, she said nothing. He didn’t have much to say either, couldn’t begin to explain his inexcusable behavior to a six-year-old. Instead, he sat on his heels next to her and petted the cat.

  “Didn’t mean to frighten you. I was…helping Miss Lowell get settled. We fell.” His neck grew warm at the lie. They wouldn’t have fallen if he hadn’t pushed Victoria into bed. What had possessed him to do such a thing?

  Fannie’s expressionless mask didn’t tell him what was going through her head, so he had to guess. His daughter must be confused. Hell, he was confused.

  Victoria blushed like an innocent, but kissed like a hoyden. Surprise was too mild a word for what had jolted through him when she’d kissed him. The combination of sweetness and fervor h
ad the same effect as a strong opiate. Had they been able to finish what they’d started, he felt certain he would’ve gone to seventh heaven. Thankfully, he hadn’t ascended that far before Fannie showed up. But he’d gone far enough.

  Fannie had appeared surprised, maybe even a little curious. She was too young to understand what went on between men and women, and he didn’t intend to enlighten her anytime soon. Maybe never.

  He hadn’t told her of his plan to marry again because he hadn’t done anything about it and saw no reason to upset her. Now, Victoria was here, he’d admitted publicly she would be his wife, so that’s what they needed to talk about.

  “You like Miss Lowell, don’t you?”

  Fannie shook her head, but at the same time hugged the doll tight.

  So, she wasn’t sure how she felt about Victoria. He wasn’t sure how he felt either, not entirely. Except for lust, that feeling he knew for a fact, as it still pulsed through him. But that wasn’t something he’d be discussing with his daughter.

  “If you want to like her, that’s all right. I like her—” David caught himself, not quick enough. Granted, he did like Victoria, but he didn’t want to give Fannie the idea that liking was related to what he and Victoria were doing on the bed.

  He propped his hands on his knees. Get to the subject. He and Victoria would soon share a bed. Maybe sooner than he’d planned, considering. He had better prepare Fannie. “Miss Lowell and I plan to be married.”

  Fannie acted like she wasn’t listening. She scooped up the orange tabby. Startled, it swiped at her and caught the doll’s hair in its claws. With a shocked gasp, she yanked the doll away. The kitten hung on for dear life.

  “Here, stop pulling. It’s just scared of falling.” David gently removed the kitten’s claws and set it down. The little fur ball dashed off in search of its mother. That kitten wasn’t the only one afraid of a hard fall.