Nick relaxed against the pillows as she began to read. When she finished the first chapter, she handed the book to him to read the next one as they always did. He began but found himself yawning. Beside him, Frances’s breathing had slowed. Not sure if she were asleep, he continued reading but had to stifle back yawns more often.
“Frances?” he finally whispered. “Frances, are you awake?”
When she said nothing, he closed the book and set it on his nightstand. He reached up and turned down the gaslight lamp above the bed. Carefully, he rolled over to his side, so he faced her sleeping form.
“I love you,” he breathed before closing his eyes.
10
Something tickled Nick’s nose, pulling him from a wonderful dream of kissing Frances. Whatever it was made his nose itch again. He was about to lift his hand to scratch it when the warmth of the body next to him brought him fully awake. His heart started to pound furiously, and it became difficult to breathe. Frances—his wife—rested her head on his shoulder and strands of her hair had worked loose from her long braid.
What if she woke? What if she accused him of not keeping his hands to himself?
No, he was on his side of the bed. She was the one with her arm across his chest, her hand dangling over his side. Nick had been praying for months that Frances would come to love him. Sometimes the Good Lord had a terrible sense of humor. Waking with Frances in his arms might seem like an answer to those prayers, but it could turn into a nightmare if she woke and found herself tangled with him like this.
It could ruin everything.
Nick was about to shift his body toward the edge of the bed, when Frances’s hand on his side gave a twitch. His pulse ratcheted up another notch. What was he going to do? Maybe if he pretended to still be asleep, she could extricate herself and not hold him accountable. He closed his eyes and forced his body to relax and his breathing to slow. But he couldn’t slow his racing heart.
It was the hard thumping of Nick’s heart that woke Frances. The pulsing in her ear told her exactly what had happened. She’d cuddled.
When she and her sisters had been young, Doris had been afraid of the dark. Their nanny’s solution had been to have the three girls sleep in the same bed. It had lasted until Maude complained that Frances was a cuddler. As though she’d had any control of what she did when she slept.
Poor Nick. Frances probably should have warned him, but it had been so many years since she’d shared a bed with her sisters she’d forgotten. She could tell he wasn’t asleep anymore, though he was trying really hard to breathe slowly. It was a good thing they were really married or this would be a very compromising situation. Her sense of the bizarre struck her, and she wanted to giggle.
Frances moved her hand, thinking to pretend she was still asleep and rolling over. Her hand brushed his side, and his skin twitched under her fingers. Was he ticklish? If he were, it had been wise of him to keep it a secret from her. She moved her fingers along his side again, this time with more purpose, and a laugh came from his chest under her ear.
“You are ticklish.” Frances shifted to lean on her right elbow to look down at him. She reached to tickle him again, but he caught her hand.
“Don’t you dare, woman.”
They were both laughing as they wrestled. Frances had the advantage because he was ticklish, and she wasn’t. And he had all that lovely bare skin he had to keep out of her reach. They were laughing so hard they didn’t hear that someone had knocked on the door until Luke rapped on it really loud.
“Sorry to disturb you two,” he called, “but something came in the mail I think you’ll want to see. I’ve sent for Maude and Doris.” He didn’t say anything more. They only heard his retreating footsteps.
Frances looked up at Nick, who’d finally managed to pin her hands over her head. “If he’s calling for my sisters, it must have something to do with Uncle William.”
“Right.” Nick released her and leaned back on his heels.
“I get the bathroom first.” Frances made what she’d hoped was a clever roll off the bed. Instead, her fancy negligee tangled her legs, and she slid off the bed into a heap on the floor.
Chuckling, Nick leaped from the bed and bounded into the bathroom before she could get herself free and on her feet again. Grinning at her, he shut the bathroom door.
“It’s not fair.” She called through the door as she scowled at the beautiful nightgown. “I want some of those pajama pants too.”
What kind of shirt would be comfortable to wear with it? Maybe something flannel during the winter. That would be warmer, though Nick had made a nice heater last night. And what a gentleman. She had no doubt Edgar would have taken advantage of the situation if it’d been him sleeping beside her.
Her mind drifted back to just before Luke had pounded on the door, when Nick had held her down on the bed. How had she never noticed how blue his eyes were?
She was relieved to find that, even though they were technically married, their friendship hadn’t changed. Yes, there were still awkward situations—like her dress last night, but they were still best friends and comfortable in each other’s company, even in this mock marriage entanglement.
Frances’s mind darted back to the wedding. Drat but he was a good kisser. That was twice now he’d made her weak in the knees. She hadn’t thought she’d like kissing him so much. If she were honest, she more than liked it. She was starting to accept the power in attraction, and wow was she attracted to Nick. But he was off limits. She would never marry.
She scowled. They were married. She would never marry for real. No, that wasn’t right either. They were really married. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking for anything permanently real. Even if Nick were willing to consider anything more than friendship, their real pretend marriage was going to end as soon as she got control of her inheritance.
Maybe she could buy into her brother's ranch like Nick was doing. Then they could be business partners even if they weren’t life partners. Even if she did like kissing him, she had to be careful not to cross the line from friends to something more. That’d be taking advantage of his good heart, and she couldn’t do that to him. They might be the very best of friends, but it’d be asking too much for him to stay married to her. Not that she’d ever ask him to.
Frances gathered her clothing, so she was ready when he came out. For a second, she was distracted by his freshly shaved face and his shapely lips.
Nope. She wasn’t going to think about that. With her head held high, she brushed past him into the bathroom. With her hand on the jamb, she turned.
“I’m getting some of those pajamas too. We’ll see who gets in the bathroom first tomorrow.” She closed the door.
Nick ignored the surreptitious glances from Luke and the McDaniels. The memory of his new brother-in-law knocking on the bedroom door, while he and Frances laughed inside, made Nick want to chuckle. He and his new bride must certainly be giving the impression it was a true marriage in every sense of the word.
He took his seat beside Frances and used his fork to stab one of the sausages on her plate. She shot him a sidelong glance before stealing one of his pancakes. When Mrs. McDaniel gave a soft cough, they stopped.
“When we have our own house,” Frances whispered, “we can have food fights if we want.”
“There’s no need to move out yet,” Luke said from the doorway. “If you two want to have food fights, we can send your breakfast up to your room.”
“Luke Hamblin,” Mrs. McDaniel cried indignantly, “these two are married now and should act like adults. What kind of example will they be to their children?”
“We’ll behave,” Nick said, his body shaking with suppressed laughter, “won’t we, dear?”
“Do not call me that,” Frances said, pulling a delightful face. “It makes me sound like a grandma.”
“How about pumpkin or moppet?” he asked, trying to think of ones she’d be sure to hate. “Honey?”
Frances sh
ook her head.
“My little codfish?”
“Call me that, and I’ll kill you in your sleep.” Frances didn’t look at him, and her tone was ominous, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
Nick focused on his food. Already, he loved being married to Frances. How bad was it going to hurt if he couldn’t convince her to let him stay her husband?
“You going to tell us what the big mystery is?” Frances asked when she’d finished eating.
“There were actually a couple of bits of information waiting for me in town this morning. One of them in the mail.” Luke raised his hands before Frances could start quizzing him some more. “I really want to get everybody’s impressions together.”
Sleigh bells jingled outside. He jumped up and left the room.
“Well, this is intriguing,” Nick said as he put Frances’s dishes on top of his own.
“Has he given you any hints, Mrs. McDaniel?” Frances picked up two serving dishes from the table.
“You know your brother likes his secrets and his grand announcements.” The housekeeper opened the door to the kitchen for them. “I just hope they’re finally going to be able to put this whole thing with that uncle of yours to rest.”
“Me too.” Frances’s steely tone carried an ominous ring. She put the dishes in the sink. “That man has caused enough grief, just counting what we know for sure. If I can prove he’s responsible for my father’s death, I won’t be satisfied until he pays for it.”
“Is that more sleigh bells?” Nick asked.
“The others must have arrived. You two had best go on then.” Mrs. McDaniel shooed them from the kitchen.
Nick took Frances’s hand, and they hurried to the parlor. Abe was already there with Edgar Lowell. The attorney arched a brow, his gaze on their clasped hands. His lips thinned, and he glanced away. Nick almost felt sorry for the man if he’d developed feelings for Frances. They’d never have worked.
Luke entered the room, followed by Maude and Charles and then Doris and Marshall. Because she was still the schoolteacher, Nick wondered if she’d made arrangements for a substitute. Maybe Edith since she was good with kids.
“I received a couple of letters today,” Luke said once everyone was settled. He held up two envelopes but put one that appeared unopened in his pocket and then removed papers from the other one. “This is from the private investigator Abe recommended. He’s been doing some investigations of where the servants went from the Lancaster house. He’s got connections with servants who share things they hear for a fee. He’s been looking for rumors about possible foul play.” Luke’s gaze shifted to each of his sisters, settling on Frances.
“There are rumors, aren’t there?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said. “There are.”
Frances’s hand in Nick’s convulsed, but her expression stayed calm. If only for that, he’d do everything in his power to help bring her uncle to justice.
“With the information here,” Luke continued, “Abe suggests we have Edgar file a petition for the billing records of the stores.”
“Are you saying Frances’s suspicions about poisoning could be right?” Maude asked, her complexion pale.
“Your old housekeeper met with a suspicious accident not long after you ladies fled Indianapolis. Right after,” Abe said with a meaningful glance at Charles. “Her brother said she’d just come into some unexpected money too. The obvious place to search would be the household records, but I’m thinking your uncle would have already destroyed those.”
“And that’s why you want the billing records.” Charles nodded.
“What if she paid for the poison with cash?” Marshall asked, his arm around Doris, who looked about to cry.
“That would be more suspicious,” Nick said. “If the housekeeper usually put everything on the household accounts but then suddenly paid for poison with cash, it’d make it memorable.”
“But why pay her the money and then kill her?” Maude shuddered.
“I’ll bet she was trying to blackmail him for more money,” Frances said. “Does your private investigator say anything about how Mrs. Channing died?”
“It was a dog attack,” Luke said, his voice somber.
Frances’s hand shifted in Nick’s. Last month, Luke had suffered several cattle losses from what had appeared to be wolf attacks—until Mr. McDaniel had shot a trained attack dog which Edgar had identified as belonging to some Italian friends of William Lancaster.
“Don’t you have enough now to draw the police’s attention to our uncle?” Frances asked, a bitter edge to her voice.
“The police are interested, but they need more than suspicions to act,” Charles said. “Your uncle has a lot of influence with people in high places, so the police will want to have an ironclad case before they move.”
“My friend also indicated they’d like to be able to pin something on these Italians.” Abe made a disgusted grunt. “Things always get more complicated when you involve multiple jurisdictions. To the New York lawmen trying to catch the Italians, what your uncle’s done probably seems pretty tame.”
“Murder is tame?” Frances hissed glaring at the sheriff.
“Obviously not tame to you, but I’ve been paying more attention to the news from New York.” Abe’s expression turned grim. “It sounds to me like your uncle’s gotten himself involved with some very bad men. There are stories of secret societies and oaths of allegiance. They don’t blink an eye at murder.”
“I wonder if that’s what gave your uncle the idea,” Nick said.
“It doesn’t matter where he got the idea,” Frances said.
“I ain’t disagreeing with you.” Nick tightened his hold on her hand. “William Lancaster’s going to pay for what he’s done, one way or the other.”
“I think it’s time for us to force the issue,” Frances said. “Now all three of us are married, we should go to Indianapolis and claim our inheritance.”
11
Frances leaned back, as everyone started talking at once.
“You sure know how to throw oil on a fire, don’t you?” Nick said with a chuckle.
“They can’t leave me out anymore. I won’t let them.” She looked at him and covered their clasped hands with her free one. “Thank you so much for doing this for me. I’ll do my best to make it worth your while.”
“You already have. I’ve told you more than once I’d do anything for you.”
There it was again, that new intensity to Nick. He was showing her a side she hadn’t seen before. It both scared and thrilled her a little.
“Well,” Frances said lamely. “Thank you anyway.” She leaned closer, meaning to kiss his cheek, but Nick shifted his face so their lips met instead. Drat him. She was starting to like kissing him way too much. She pulled back.
Nick leaned closer and kissed her cheek near her ear. “We’re newly married. They expect it.”
He straightened. They faced the others, only to find them staring with knowing smiles.
When Frances had made the decision to marry, she’d known she’d have to show some affection to her husband. Which she’d completely underestimated. She needed to take control of the conversation.
“Nick and I haven’t had a wedding trip yet, obviously, and I think it’d be fun to show him our old stomping grounds.” Frances leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’ll bet Uncle William thinks he has us running with all the stunts he’s pulled on us.”
“Or he’s getting desperate,” Charles said.
“And desperate men take even bigger risks,” Nick said.
“Exactly so,” Abe said, worry creasing his brow. “I’m not sure you girls even need to go back to Indianapolis to see him. Let the courts handle this and give you control of your fortunes then.”
“With both Maude and Doris increasing,” Frances argued, “we have to make the trip while we can. Marshall said he has connections to someone in the railroad and could get a car to ease their journey, but we c
an’t wait too much longer. Charles and Maude have their own wedding trip to take to San Francisco.”
“I agree with the sheriff,” Luke said. “Don’t forget I have a wedding in a few weeks with some very important guests coming. Judith and I can’t take two weeks off to go to Indianapolis right now.”
“You don’t have to go,” Frances said. “I know your memories of the place aren’t good, and I wouldn’t ask you to come with us so close to your wedding.”
“But I’m your guardian—”
“Not anymore,” Nick broke in. “I’m responsible for Frances now.”
Her habit would have been to tell him what she thought of such a presumptuous declaration, but she paused before speaking. Nick would be twenty-five soon, but his lighthearted and teasing sense of humor had always made him seem younger. There was nothing tyrannical in his eyes or the tone of his voice when he’d made the simple comment. Instead, there was something adult in it. And humble, like he’d been given a great honor to be responsible for her. Her heart gave an odd little twitch.
Not taking her gaze off Nick, Frances said, “We’re going to Indianapolis on our wedding trip.” When he nodded, she looked at the others. “We’ll go with or without the rest of you, and we’re going next week. I think our cases will be stronger if we show up as a group to claim what’s rightfully ours but, if it’s just Nick and me, that’s fine.”
She sat as calmly as she remembered her father doing when facing off with contrary people, whether a business partner or a wayward daughter. Frances was grateful for Nick’s warm hand in hers. His friendship and support, which had been like a solid base beneath her since she’d first come to live with her brother, now felt like it’d turned into bedrock. It took all her willpower to force her eyes not to blink at the sudden stinging. She would not cry.
A Fella for Frances Page 8
