by Jillian Hart
“Warm weather will be here in no time,” he agreed. “We’ll get you a light little buggy, one that will be easy for you to hitch up yourself.”
She didn’t answer, but her smile was answer enough. Almost a real smile. One that curved her mouth into a thing of splendor and painted her eyes so blue, his throat ached at the sight.
This isn’t longing for her, he told himself, rubbing the heel of his hand above his hurting heart. Probably it’s just indigestion. At least that’s what he wanted to believe.
“So long!” Brant called out as the little family pulled away. Merry goodbyes rang in answer, echoing inside the high-ceilinged barn. The little family made a nice picture driving away in the sleigh, with both little boys on their father’s lap, tucked in his arms. Each child held the end of one rein, while Brant gave the leather straps a snap and nosed the gelding toward home.
In a couple of years he would have Willa’s child—now his, too—to hold on his lap as he drove away. And if the baby were a girl… He shook his head at that. He didn’t know much about little girls, but he would do his best to learn. Maybe the child would draw them closer together, he reasoned as he slipped onto the seat beside his bride and took up Calvin’s reins.
The gelding stood at the ready, leaning into his harness with his ears pricked, and then swiveled to take in the conversation. No sense in disappointing the horse, so Austin snapped the reins.
“See you all soon,” he called out as the runners squeaked against the straw and then whispered against snow. “Have a good evening, Pa.”
“You, too, son. Goodbye, Willa.”
“Goodbye.” Her dulcet alto moved through him like his own breath, and he couldn’t get her out of his system as Calvin trotted down the tree-lined driveway. The world blurred, not from the speed but because his eyes filled with emotion too confusing to untangle and name. He was married, but unlike his father’s marriage he didn’t think there was a chance this would be a union built on love.
Heck, that was the risk he’d taken in choosing a mail-order bride. But he had a bride—that was the important point. He was no longer as alone as he’d been, and today among his family had shown him something. He still had the chance to be a father. By this time next year, he’d have a little child to help Willa raise. A son to teach about horses, or a little daughter to…well, he didn’t exactly know about that, but he knew it would all work out.
“Your family is wonderful.” Willa broke the silence, twisting toward him in the sleigh. The brush of happiness still animated her adorable face and resonated in her sparkling eyes. “I had the best time. I like them so much.”
“They liked you, too.” He couldn’t resist leaning a little closer to her. When he breathed in her light rose scent, his chest hitched harder than he would have liked. “You ladies had a good time.”
“I’ve never had a better one. Oh, we talked about sewing and knitting and the children….” She paused as a crook of worry dug in above the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, going on like that. I—”
“It’s all right,” he interrupted before she could stop and before her brightness could fade. “I hear Berry is an expert knitter. She made this scarf for me.”
“I should have known.” Willa reached out on impulse. With an intake of her breath, she froze midway to touching him. Her eyebrows arched, her mouth dropped into a sweet little O when she realized what she’d been about to do.
“Go on. It’s okay.” He one-handed the reins so he could pull the end of the scarf from beneath his coat for her to look at. “It was my Christmas present.”
“I’ve been so worried about everything I didn’t even notice before. It’s a lovely scarf.” She ducked her head lightly, her gaze centered on the scarf she held.
The twist in his chest rung tighter. He was torn between wanting her and knowing if he reached out to her he would frighten her away. So he sat still, barely daring to breathe and letting Calvin worry about turning onto the country road that would take them home. The horse knew where they were going, but this single moment with Willa needed his attention more. This one instant in time mattered more than anything.
“Berry really is very talented.” She let go up the scarf, ending the moment as she leaned back against the seat-back. “I’m sure I could never be as good of a knitter, but I’d like to try. I’ve always wanted to learn to do cables but I could never figure them out quite right on my own.”
“I imagine you will need to knit all sorts of things to have on hand when the baby comes.”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead.” She lifted her chin to meet his gaze, hers a timid blue. “Today seeing Delia’s baby made it more real.”
“I imagine it’s something a new widow would dread thinking about when the future was uncertain.” He reached over to tuck the robes more tightly around her where they had come loose with her movements. He couldn’t help wanting to take care of her. “That’s not the case now. Your life here is secure. I’m here to make sure of it.”
“That means a lot to me, Austin.” Her hand lighted on his arm, the sweetest of touches.
“I’m glad to do it for you, Willa.” His throat ached with emotions he shouldn’t be feeling, and if he were smart, he never would. “You’re my bride.”
“You’re a good man, Austin.” She seemed at ease being this close to him, and he was thankful for the change as he gave the blanket a final tuck around her, bringing him dangerously close to her. He breathed in roses and the warm, sweet scent that was hers alone. A wisp of her hair blew against his cheek as gentle as a caress.
Don’t let your heart flutter, he told himself even though he was pretty sure it did anyway.
“I’m going to try to do my best by you, Willa.” It broke something inside him to ease back against the seat. A knot of longing tugged hard behind his ribs, wanting to stay close.
But Willa didn’t want that kind of relationship.
“I was real scared when I saw you with that glass of whiskey.” Her confession came so quietly, it could barely be heard over the wind whirring by like a whistle in his ears. Her hand on his forearm remained, a tentative link between them. “It was my greatest fear that you would turn out to be a drunk, someone who couldn’t be in control of it.”
“My pa brings out a bottle now and then, but we sip more than we glug.”
“I noticed.” That hint of a smile returned, just as he’d hoped it would. “Is it true you’ve waited eight years for a wife?”
“I see the ladies were filling your head with stories about me.” He noticed she was shivering. As thick as the robes were, the temperatures were dropping rapidly. He started to shiver, too. “Not sure what else they said about me, but that much is true.”
“I see.” Her teeth clattered. Her forehead furrowed in thought. “I think I see why you chose me.”
“Why?” he asked, curious to know what she thought, because she couldn’t possibly know the reason.
“The baby.” Chills began to wrack her and she looked so fragile sitting there, shaking hard, so sweet and petite he couldn’t help sidling up closer. He moved slowly so as not to scare her. She didn’t gasp when he lifted his arm to lay it across her shoulders. She only stiffened slightly as he drew her against his side.
“This will help keep you warm,” he said. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” Her teeth stopped clacking. “You chose me because you want a family. By harvest time, you will have one.”
“That’s true enough.” He wasn’t going to think about his disappointment, which seemed to make the wind harsher. He hadn’t expected Willa to understand. But he did want a family. More than that, he wanted a bride to love.
Since it was too cold to talk, they fell silent as Calvin pulled them home.
* * *
Calvin’s nicker of excitement sailed back on the bitter w
ind. Willa gave a sigh of relief at the sight of their little house tucked beneath a twilight sky. The first evening stars hung crisp and bright, twinkling with promise.
“We’re home. Finally.” Austin set down his reins as Calvin came to an impatient stop. “I’ll get you inside, stir the fires and then I’ll get Calvin in the barn.”
“No, the wind’s too cold for him to stand. I’ll come to the barn with you and we can walk to the house together. It’s not far, and I’d like to see the mare.”
“And I’d like to show her to you.” He gave the reins a snap, but Calvin was already moving across the yard toward the closed barn door. “Have you thought of a name yet?”
“No, but I’m working on it.” She was a little breathless. His body’s warmth seemed to flow through her. The man was as good as a crackling fire for heat.
When Austin climbed out of the sleigh, cold wrapped around her from all sides, making her miss him. She couldn’t help noticing the fine figure he made as the gathering dusk closed around him. Imposing height, manly shoulders and masculine grace. He powered the door open and led Calvin inside the small barn. A cow’s moo greeted them.
“I know, Rosie. Sorry, girl. I’m late with your milking,” he called out, tossing Willa a sheepish grin. “She’s a sweet girl but a bit temperamental.”
Brown ears pricked up as two chocolate eyes studied them over the top of her stall. Even in the shadows Rosie looked adorable with a wide forehead, a sloping nose and a soft velvet muzzle that mooed a protest.
“See what I mean?” Austin’s chuckle rolled through the dark, pushing back the shadows. Or maybe it just seemed that way as the doors closed and a match flared to life. Light grew on the lantern’s wick, tossing orange-tinted light across the man’s face.
She thought of the stories Evelyn and the girls had told her in the parlor this afternoon of Austin, both as a boy and as a bachelor wishing for a bride. “I think Rosie is a dear. Would you like me to milk her? It was always my job on the farm.”
“It’s far too cold and it’s not your job here.” Austin’s hand, as reliable as iron, gripped hers and she felt a strange tingle move through her as she stepped to the ground. He leaned in, his smile contagious. “Not unless it’s your most favorite thing in the world to do the milking.”
“I wouldn’t say that, but I like cows.” She didn’t know why she felt a sting of loss when Austin released her hand. “I’d never been close to a cow before the day Jed marched me into the barn to teach me to milk her. I was terrified of her because she was so big, but she was as gentle as a lamb. I never sobbed so hard as the day the bank took her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Something hard crossed Austin’s face, an expression she’d seen before.
Maybe he didn’t like to hear about her life with another man. She bit her bottom lip, determined to try and remember that. “I guess the point of the story is that I rather liked the cow.”
“I don’t want to stand in the way of a friendship between you and Rosie.” Austin knelt to release Calvin from his traces. “But let me milk her when the weather is like this.”
“Fine.” She wanted to argue that she could be milking while he unhitched and rubbed down the horse, but she was trying to be a good wife. A good wife didn’t argue with her husband. She didn’t give him cause to be irritated. If he wanted to milk the cow, then that was his call. Not that that was an easy thing, but she didn’t want to disappoint him again. She had to figure out a way to stop doing that.
Maybe it would be okay if she petted Rosie. How could anyone resist those pleading eyes? Her hand reached out, the cow leaned over the gate and a pink tongue snagged her new coat’s sash.
“Oh!” Surprised, she reacted too late. A good six inches of the sash was in the cow’s mouth. “Rosie, let go of that, sweet girl.”
Big brown eyes blinked, rimmed by long curly lashes, and gave her a mutinous look. Rosie gripped the sash tighter, refusing to let go. Trouble danced in her eyes as she blinked again.
“You are a funny girl. Guess you’ve got me held captive, don’t you?” Delight trickled through her as she gave the cow lots of extra pets. Pleased, Rosie leaned in for more attention.
What a good day she’d had, she thought. She’d never before had such a day as a wife. The memories of that sad, sparse time where life was grim and bleak with unending work faded for a moment. Its power was not as strong as her happiness.
A movement caught her attention in the next stall, a disturbance in the shadows. Straw rustled as the shadows became a small black horse with fathomless eyes and a splash of white on her forehead. A star, Willa realized when the mare stopped several feet from her gate, safely out of reach.
She’s mine. The thought filled her with a strange swirl of joy. Her own mare. She couldn’t believe it. With a horse, she could go anywhere. She was free.
Austin’s footsteps padded behind her, accompanied by the clomp of Calvin’s hooves. The little mare lifted her head, watching the man cautiously with her skin flickering in fear.
“Is she all right?” Willa held out her hand, but the mare shied back, sank into the shadows and disappeared from sight.
“She’s just afraid to trust us.” Calvin’s gate whispered shut. Straw rustled as the big horse crossed to his trough and dug into his grain. Willa felt her nape tingle as the man drew near. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
“Yes. So dainty. Such a beautiful face.” She wished the mare would come closer. She wanted to make friends. She leaned against the gate longingly, afraid of the excitement building inside her.
Don’t go counting on this, Willa. She thought of all the things that could happen. Austin could change his mind. The mare might be too afraid to be a good driving horse. Someone might offer Austin good money for her, and she’d be gone. Good things didn’t last, so it was best not to count on them. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
But she couldn’t helping hoping—just a little. Austin planted his feet beside hers, reached over her shoulder and gently tried to tug the sash from Rosie’s mouth.
“Let go, sweet girl, c’mon,” his smoky baritone rumbled softly.
Hard not to be affected by that voice. It rolled through her in a slow sweep of vibrations. She shivered, but not from the chilly air. No, she didn’t notice the wintry cold as she watched Austin and the cow. What did she notice? His gentle heart and his gentle hands.
“That’s it, funny girl. I’ll be in to milk you as soon as I get the fires going for Willa. How’s that?” He stroked the cow’s poll with a familiarity that had Rosie sighing and pressing up into his touch. “You know what that means? You get grain when I come back. Lots and lots of it. Do we have a deal?”
Rosie gave a besotted sigh, let go of the sash and Willa’s heart tumbled a full inch.
She gave a little sigh, too.
Chapter Twelve
He didn’t like how chilly Willa looked as he shouldered through the front door. To make matters worse, the house radiated iciness. Frosty nails in the floor crunched beneath his boots as he led her to the sofa.
“Leave your wraps on until I have this place warm.” He hated leaving her side to stir the embers in the hearth, but he needed to get her warm. As he knelt before the hearth, he remained aware of her…of her quiet breath in the stillness, the rustle of her clothes as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the clack of her teeth chattering in the icy air. It didn’t feel like April, almost May. He added moss to the embers, and flames snapped to life, tossing more light into the room.
He glanced over his shoulder. Willa had wrapped her arms around herself. It was too cold for her. Maybe he should have bundled her up in a blanket or two. He worried about her frailty. Regular meals in this house had done her good, her face had lost that too-thin look, but he still worried.
He added k
indling and wood to the blaze, remembering how proud he’d been to show her off to his family. Nothing could be finer than the feeling of sitting at the family dinner table with her at his side. Only unless it was the ride home in the sleigh, with her snug against his side. Her body had felt warm and soft against his. Her rose fragrance still clung to him—faintly, but it was there—and every time he breathed in, warmth kicked into his blood. Desire for his bride.
The bride who did not desire him. Chances were good she never would. That was a secret he’d kept from his family, a failure he didn’t know how to fix.
“Things should start warming up now.” He stood, his knees cracking from the cold. “I’ll put the leftovers Berry sent with us in the kitchen, but I want you to stay put until the house is warm. No kitchen work, at least until I get back from milking.”
“But I’m fine.” Her chin came up, a show of strength. A plea whisked across her face, a silent question he couldn’t understand or guess at, but his feelings strengthened, just like the fire in the hearth. “I’ll get supper warming. It’s hardly effort at all.”
“I know, but I worry.” Emotions he couldn’t stop or name. He resisted the urge to lean forward and plant a kiss on her forehead. She would never know how hard it was to take a step backward when everything within him wanted to draw her close and be a part of her.
“You have to take extra care of yourself,” he said instead. “Think of the baby.”
“Yes, but I’m not going to sit around. I’m not so good at that.” Clear eyes met his, brimming with sincerity. “I want to have supper waiting when you come in. You’ve got to be cold and hungry.”
“Let’s worry about you this time.” He couldn’t help reaching out to cup her finely carved chin in his hand. More heat spilled into his blood when he felt her satin-soft skin against his own, coarse and callused. Caring surged through him with an intensity he had to fight to deny.
What was he going to do about her? I have no love in me. I know I never will. Her words haunted him and he was still at a loss. If love would never come to their marriage, then what did they have? He didn’t know, but she didn’t pull away from his touch.
