“What are you doing here?” he snapped as he jumped down from the carriage.
“Why, I came to wish you and your bride happiness,” Martha said, her tone light and mocking.
“Forgive me if I doubt your sincerity. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take my wife home.”
“I’ll go for now,” she said. “But you haven’t heard the end of this.”
“The end of what?” Will barked. “There is no ‘this’ to end. Anything between us ended long ago, so I suggest you take yourself back to the big city and find yourself another sucker.”
Blythe was surprised at the sharpness of his voice, but as harsh as he was, she couldn’t imagine anything but brutal truth deterring the determined Martha.
With a furious “Oh” from between clenched teeth, Will’s former wife flounced off. He turned to Blythe. “What was that all about?”
“Just more of Martha being Martha.”
Will looked at her for a few seconds, understanding without an explanation what Blythe meant. He gave a short nod. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
“We’re here.”
The two words woke Blythe from a troubled sleep. She lifted her lashes and saw nothing but black fabric. Her cheek rested against something hard and scratchy that moved up and down in a calm rhythm. An iron-like band held her in place. She frowned. Groggy with sleep, she tilted her head back and saw a masculine jawline. For a moment she had no idea what was going on and then memory came rushing back like floodwaters in springtime.
Will’s arms were holding her and her face rested against the jacket of his wedding suit. She sat up quickly, thankful that the world had stopped spinning around her. “I can’t believe I fell asleep,” she told him. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s been a rough week for everyone,” he told her, undraping his arm from around her shoulders. “Wait here while I tether the horse.” He unfolded his tall length and hopped to the ground.
She watched him tie the horse to the hitching post in front of his house. Their house, she corrected, barely grasping the fact that the pretty little home she’d stumbled across a week ago was now hers, or that she had married the man moving toward her with so much vitality and confidence.
Suddenly nervous, she stood, still a little shaky on her feet, and waited for him to lift her down from the buggy. Instead he picked her up. With a little gasp of surprise, she slipped her arms around his neck.
“You shouldn’t be carrying me,” she told him. “You’ve been sick, too, remember?”
“Under the circumstances, that would be a little hard to forget,” he said, but she heard no animosity or censure in his voice. “But it’s no problem, since you’re no bigger than a minute.”
For some reason the offhand comment pleased her and a sudden longing for a more personal touch rose inside her. Though she barely knew this man, she felt safe in his arms, in his care. She knew the feeling stemmed at least in part from her weariness and emotional vulnerability and his obvious strength. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from burying her face in his neck and begging him to never let her go. Instead she clung to him until he set her to her feet just inside the door of her new home.
Her gaze traveled around the room, gathering impressions of it now that she knew it belonged to her. She was surprised to see that the room they’d left in such disarray a short week ago had been set to rights. The impromptu pallet she’d made on the floor was gone; the quilts were folded neatly and stacked on one end of the sofa. The woodchips from her fire stoking and the mud she’d brought in on her boots and skirt had been swept up. Even the knife she’d used on her cheese and bread had been put away. The cups had been washed and were turned upside down to drain on a clean towel.
“I wasn’t expecting things to be straightened up,” Will said. “I figured we’d walk in and find the mess we left it in.” For once there was no derision or sarcasm in his voice.
“Probably Abby, Ellie and some of the others,” Blythe offered, realizing what a kind gesture the simple act was.
“Probably.” As if he’d realized that he’d let his guard drop, the stiffness returned. “Let me show you to your room. You can finish that nap you started on the way home and I’ll bring in your things.”
“I can help,” she said, recalling the small cases she’d filled and the food Hattie and her mother had sent from their interrupted wedding reception.
“Not this time.”
Instead of arguing, she followed him to the room at the opposite end of the kitchen. When he opened the door, she realized she was looking at his room, something that had escaped her when she was hunting for blankets.
Like Will, everything was oversize. The heavy Jacobean-style furniture was perfect for a man of his stature. Even the bed, with its massive posts, seemed longer than most.
Her startled gaze flew upward. “This is your room!”
“It was,” he agreed. “I imagine you’re used to something roomier than the other bedroom, so I’ll take it. You’ll be more comfortable in here.”
“Absolutely not.”
“What?” he said, surprised by her outburst.
“It’s bad enough you’re saddled with a wife you don’t want. You work hard. You need a good bed, not one you’ll have to draw up your knees to sleep in. I refuse to take your room, and that’s final.”
He started to protest, but she held up a warning hand. “No. This is not negotiable. I’ll take the small room.” Her lips twisted into a cynical smile. “I may have been spoiled, but I was taught respect.”
Will stared down at her for a few seconds. What he saw in her eyes must have convinced him that she meant business. With a shrug, he turned and led the way through the large room that comprised kitchen, parlor and dining area to the smaller bedroom where she’d found the extra quilts. As with his room, she’d been so worried about Will when she was searching for blankets to warm him that she had paid no attention to the room’s decor.
Weak afternoon sunshine poured through the windows that were draped with heavy, ruby-red taffeta and tied back with gold cord and tassels. A red velvet coverlet topped the bed. The wardrobe was heavily carved and the tops of the matching dresser and highboy were covered with bric-a-brac and crystal. Good grief! It looked more like the bedroom of a demimonde than a country wife.
She glanced up at her new husband.
“It’s too gaudy for my taste,” he said, understanding the question in her eyes, “but Martha had taken to sleeping in here a few months before she left.”
The information, so freely offered, surprised Blythe. She wondered if Will knew just how much he was revealing with the admission.
“Money’s a little tight right now,” he told her stiltedly, “but feel free to do whatever you want to do to the place within reason. I have an account at the mercantile.”
Seeing that he was self-conscious about his financial situation, Blythe felt even guiltier for adding to his burden. Of course, she couldn’t say anything. Her mother had told her too many times about how the self-worth of any man was tied directly to his ability to provide for his family.
Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you. I promise not to abuse your generosity.”
Will jerked away as if her touch scalded him. He cleared his throat. “If you’ll be okay for a while, I’m going to start a fire and then bring in your things. It’s chilly in here.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
In less than half an hour Will had a small fire burning and had carried in her trunk and other bags. Blythe sat in front of the fire, letting its heat warm her, thinking that she should get up and do something, but unable to find the strength to do so. Will disappeared into his room, only to reappear a few moments later wearing his
usual plaid shirt and denim pants.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he buckled his belt.
She drew in a sharp breath. Though he’d done nothing wrong, the casual intimacy of his actions caught her off guard. “Much better, thank you.”
“Have you changed your mind about telling me what Martha said?”
“Actually, you got there before she had a chance to say much of anything, thank goodness. I don’t think I’d have been much good at a verbal sparring match today.”
“I have no idea why she doesn’t give up and go back to wherever she came from.”
“She is nothing if not determined,” Blythe agreed.
“Look,” Will said, “if she ever implies that I care for her, you can go to sleep at night secure in the fact that I would never have her back.”
Though she believed Will was smart enough not to be taken in by Martha again, the relief that flowed through Blythe was amazing. “I know that.”
“You do?”
“I do. You already have a wife,” she reminded him, tongue in cheek. “I found out the hard way that you can’t have two.”
She saw the surprise on Will’s face that she could make light of the very thing that had brought them to this point in their lives. She also saw that he was uncertain how to respond.
“Why don’t you lie down?” he said at last. “I want to ride over to the mill and check on things.”
Blythe couldn’t help her disappointment. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected her first afternoon of marriage to be like, but she certainly hadn’t expected her new husband to leave her alone. But then, why shouldn’t he? It wasn’t as if they had much to talk about, or he wanted to spend time with her, and they were certainly not going to spend it the way she and Devon had.
Devon. She refused to think of him today of all days. To cover her sudden flustered feeling, she asked, “Does your crew work on Sundays?”
Once again he seemed surprised. “No, but I want to see how much they got done this week.”
“Is whoever you left in charge someone you can trust?”
“My foreman is a hard worker and as honest as the day is long, but we have a pretty big order that needs to go out by rail on Wednesday, and I just want to see how things are coming along.”
“I understand. Go.”
“I’ll be back by dark.”
“All right,” Blythe told him. “I’ll work at putting my things away until I get tired and then I’ll rest before supper. I think Mama and Hattie sent plenty for us to have for tonight.”
The closest thing she’d seen to a smile made the briefest of appearances. “Knowing Aunt Hattie, I’m sure of it.”
The first thing Blythe did when he left was strip the ugly comforter from the bed and replace it with one of the quilts from the parlor. Tomorrow, she’d find out where he usually stored his bedding so that she could put away the quilts. Then she could start doing what little things she could to turn Will’s house into their home. She laughed aloud, certain few brides had spent their wedding day as she would hers.
Determined to sleep when bedtime came and not to lie there tossing and turning and worrying, she swept her room, dusted it and washed the windows. She even dragged the red, gold and navy rug next to the bed outside and flung it over the line. She took particular pleasure in beating it with the broom before letting it air awhile.
By the time she removed all the knickknacks from the room and replaced them with an exquisite Fabergé egg Philip had brought her from Paris, a Swarovski swan she’d received for her eighteenth birthday and an ivory-and-jade vanity set from her mother, she was exhausted and her back ached, but the room felt much more like her own.
She looked around, wondering what other changes she could make that would not strain her husband’s funds. She wanted to feel as if she were in her own home, but she didn’t want Will to think she was a spendthrift. She knew how to sew, which was a boon. As soon as possible, she would make some new, brighter curtains for the house and see if perhaps Meg Allen and her mother-in-law, Nita, would help her with a rag rug in some pretty colors.
That decided and weariness fast overtaking her, she wandered back into the combined kitchen and parlor and added another log to the fire. Even though the days were warming, it was still chilly enough inside to warrant the heat. With nothing else to do for the next hour or so, she decided to have a cup of tea. Will had rebuilt a fire in the stove and the kettle simmered at the back.
Carrying her honey-spiked beverage to the rocker near the fireplace, she sat down and stretched out her feet to rest them on the hearth, finally allowing herself to think about how on earth she would survive the rest of her life living with Will. He was so...formidable and unbending.
Or was he? Though he hadn’t wanted to marry, he had. He had offered her his own room, when it was obvious he would be uncomfortable in the one she’d insisted on using. And though his finances were tight, and Martha had tried to spend him into the poorhouse, he’d given Blythe carte blanche at the mercantile. Those were not the actions of a man who would not bend.
She realized it was unfair to let the pain of Devon’s betrayal color her impressions of Will. The two men were nothing alike. Devon had been sneaky and underhanded. Will might be brash and bold, but there was little doubt where he stood on matters.
She thought about her mother’s past and how terrible her first marriage to Lucas Gentry had been. Even though he had kept her mother from her sons, Libby had not grown bitter. Instead she had embarked on a new marriage and a new life when she’d married Blythe’s father. As her mother always told her, it all came down to choices. A person could choose to make the best of a bad situation or let it make you bitter.
So where did that leave her and Will? They’d married under less than optimal circumstances, turning sacred promises into a business proposition that benefited them both, and they had promised to stay together, despite their mutual disillusionment on the whole idea of marriage. That left little option but to try to make the best of things and hope that in time their civility would turn to friendship and perhaps even to love.
Love. She hadn’t expected to feel any of the excitement for Will that she’d felt with Devon, but she had to admit that Will’s end-of-the-ceremony kiss had been quite nice. She pushed the memory away. To go down that road was to invite disaster, and it certainly wasn’t part of the bargain.
Actually, she thought she could be happy enough if she and Will built a marriage that was solid and dependable, based on mutual respect and kindnesses and the family they would one day have. Lord willing, they would.
The Lord. Where did He stand in all this? Blythe felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d been so at peace about her situation and had such a positive outlook on things after she’d prayed. Was it only yesterday? And then she’d gone to see Will and he had come up with his marriage scheme, and then things had happened so fast after, there had been no time to consult the Lord about her decision.
You always have time for the Lord, Blythe. She could almost hear her mother speaking the words, yet she’d been so busy trying to handle things herself—making decisions about how she would act, what she would do and the kind of wife she would be—that she’d neglected to ask God to help her. Wanting to handle things herself was something she’d always struggled with. She admitted to liking to feel as if she were in control, even though she knew she should pray more to let the Lord lead her where she needed to go.
She knew one thing. It was past time to stop whining about the past. Time to stop trying to place blame. God had given her free will and a brain, and she had made her choices, her mistakes. Now she had to live with them.
That sounded so cynical, and cynicism had never been her way. She was cautious, perhaps pragmatic even, but never one to see life at its worst. She might get down, but in the years before De
von an inherent optimism had always reasserted itself. Devon and that part of her life was in the past. She had to pick up the pieces and move on in a confident, even hopeful, way. Whatever choices she’d made, God was able to take the mess she’d made of her life and turn it into something good, if only she would step aside and let Him.
She was a wife, a decision she’d freely made, and that meant she had responsibilities not only to Will but also to his employees and his family. She’d been brought up with a wonderful example in her mother, who had been an asset to Sam Granville every day of his life. Blythe vowed that if she couldn’t be a real wife, she could at least be a positive influence for Will in the community. And one day, who knew what might happen?
She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, preparing to begin her new life in the best possible ways. One day, one step at a time. For now she would concentrate on making the best life she could with her new husband, whatever that might be, however she could.
Chapter Ten
Will needed to get away for a while, not only to check on the mill but to really think about his new life with Blythe. Until he’d seen her fall to the floor, he hadn’t really understood how much strain she’d been under. Just moving from a big city like Boston to a town the size of Wolf Creek was a huge adjustment, and when he added in everything else she’d been through, it was little wonder she was overwhelmed and anxious, or that her emotions ranged from meekness to irritation at the drop of a hat. So many things had happened to her that she probably didn’t know how to react.
Now she was married to a man she barely knew. He wondered if she was as confused as he was about where they were headed with their new life. If she seemed uneasy and even standoffish, he really couldn’t expect anything different after Devon Carmichael’s betrayal.
It was perfectly natural for her to doubt his sincerity when he’d spoken his vows. She had no way of knowing that even though he’d sometimes been contrary, his heart was actually pretty soft. Or had been. She couldn’t know that he’d been a fun-loving, easygoing kind of guy until Martha walked away from him and their marriage.
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