by P. Creeden
He tightened his grip on his pitcher and opened his bedroom door. Silence greeted him in the darkened hallway. Shadows lurked in the corners. He grabbed his oil lamp with his other hand and headed toward the bathroom. After moving the pitcher to the same hand as the oil lamp, Henry reached for the door handle.
But it turned on its own before his fingers reached it. The door pushed in, opening to reveal a wide-eyed Brienne in a nightgown with her hair down and wet. Henry’s heart skipped a beat.
Chapter 11
For a moment Henry couldn’t draw breath. She was breathtaking. When he finally drew a slow inhale, her usual cinnamon scent was stronger, and it overwhelmed him. Her bright green eyes fixed on him in surprise as she took a step back into the darkened bathroom and slipped. He leapt forward and grabbed her with his free arm, but as he did, the pitcher he’d been holding slipped from his fingers and shattered against the bathroom floor. A small squeal escaped Brienne’s lips. The two of them froze in their position, staring into each other’s eyes. Henry’s heart pounded in his chest. This was the second time he’d caught her like this and held her against his body. He was pleased at how well her body molded to his.
He smiled at her. “We really must stop meeting like this.”
She blinked at him, her breath coming out in short pants. “It’s not as though I’d planned this.”
“If you had,” he said and raised an eyebrow, “I’d have to wonder if I’d married a temptress.”
Georgia’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs. “Is everything all right?”
Brienne called from over Henry’s shoulder, “Everything’s just dandy, Georgia! Henry and I have dropped a pitcher. We can clean it up ourselves.”
Georgia hollered something back, but Henry couldn’t interpret it over the ringing in his ears.
Brienne’s eyes never left his while she’d called to Georgia. His grip did not loosen on her waist. Her warmth seeped into him from where her body remained pressed against his. In the light of the two oil lamps, her cheeks remained flushed as her chest heaved. Then she pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him away. He missed the feeling of her in his arms immediately as he released her. They both looked down at the damage around their feet.
The ceramic pitcher lay in sharp pieces between them, but Brienne’s feet were bare, while he still wore his working shoes. He frowned and stepped closer, the ceramic crunching under his heel. He shook his head at her. “You can’t walk through here. I’m going to have to carry you.”
A look of horror replaced the surprise that had been her expression before. She shook her head. “You can’t. I’m too heavy.”
He frowned. Did she really think him that weak? “I’m stronger than you think I am.”
“But—”
Without waiting to hear her response, he set his oil lamp on the counter top next to the door and scooped her up into his arms. She gasped and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. They stood like that for a moment, their eyes meeting once more. The lamplight flickered in her green eyes, making him entranced. He swallowed. “You’re not too heavy.”
And she wasn’t. He turned around slowly, stepped back over the broken pitcher as it crunched under his heels, and carried her out into the hallway. Her eyes remained fixed on his while his heart continued to pound against his chest. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders as she attempted to hold on. He walked her all the way to her bedroom door and hesitated. He enjoyed holding her. She made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was still different with her. It wasn’t the same kind of innocent, child-like love that he’d had with Anna. With Brienne, his heart was guarded. Her heart had walls, too. But both of them pushed against those boundaries, wanting to trust one another with their affections. At least, that was the way he felt and hoped that she felt that way, too.
Breathlessly, she whispered, “You can put me down, now.”
He nodded and set her lightly down on her feet, but his hand remained on her waist. They were still close enough together to feel each other’s body heat. She stepped away so that her back pressed against her bedroom door, and her hands felt for the handle. She blinked, shook her head, and shot a glance toward the bathroom. “I’ll just get into something more presentable and be right out to help you clean up that pitcher.”
Then she slipped into the room and was gone, leaving him to wonder if he was the only one who was affected by their sudden proximity.
Brienne shut her bedroom door and pressed her forehead to the whitewashed pine, relishing the coolness against her hot skin. What in the Sam Hill was happening? Her heart pounded in her chest, and her whole body felt like it was blushing—her skin hot and flushed. She stood straight and shook herself from her thoughts. It wasn’t right for her to just leave that pitcher for him to clean up himself. She needed to get the broom and dustpan and give him a hand. Her fingers began working in her hair, twisting it up into the bun at the back of her head and then putting her pins through it. Usually she left it down after washing to dry out, but it would just have to wait until the job was done. She slipped quickly out of her night clothes and into a shirt before pulling on her breeches. Her boots sat by the door, and she slipped them on before rushing back out into the hallway. At nearly the same time, Henry opened his bedroom door and came back out into the hallway with a decent shirt pulled over his undershirt.
Another rush of heat struck her face as she had the scandalous thought for a moment that she preferred him in just his undershirt. She took a quick breath and then ripped her gaze away from him. She swallowed. “I’ll get the broom and dustpan.”
He nodded. “I’ll get the larger pieces and place them in the waste receptacle. “
“Be careful not to cut your hands,” she called out as she rushed downstairs. Once she got to the broom closet, she grabbed the dustpan and a hand broom that was made from soft horse hair.
“Are you sure everything’s all right?” Georgia asked from behind her.
Brienne gasped and shied to the side.
“Why are you so jumpy?” Georgia’s eyebrow lifted. Her hair was down in a long braid, and she held an oil lamp while she stood in the hallway in her night clothes. Jordy stood next to her wagging his tail.
“Everything is all right. Henry just bumped into me while holding his pitcher and dropped it. It’s not his fault. And the mess isn’t too big. We’ll have it cleaned up in a jiffy.” Brienne’s voice seemed higher pitched than usual, even to her own ears.
Georgia’s brow remained high. “Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
After shrugging and giving Brienne one last suspicious look, she turned back toward her downstairs bedroom and called over her shoulder, “Be careful not to cut your hands.”
Brienne watched as Georgia continued toward her bedroom with Jordy, knowing that this behavior was strange for Brienne. Normally she would have welcomed Georgia’s help with cleaning up the mess. But there was something about this situation. She didn’t want Georgia to come in between her and Henry in this moment. She wanted it to be private. The word tryst came to her mind, but she shook it away and utterly denied it. They were not lovers, even if they were married. And nothing about the way they had appeared with each other would have been scandalous in anyone’s opinion, especially considering they were husband and wife. To think otherwise would be ridiculous. She gripped the hand broom’s handle and started back up the stairs. After all, they were just cleaning up a mess.
Once she reached the bathroom, she found Henry crouched over the broken pieces, placing the last of it into the basket, and then standing as she drew closer. He stretched out his palms to take the hand broom and dust pan from her. She shook his head at him. “It’s fine, I’ll get it.
Then she crouched down by his feet and began sweeping up the small bits of ceramic that had remained on the hardwood flooring.
He took a step back. “I’m sorry that I dropped the pitcher. Will it be hard to find a replacement at the g
eneral store?”
She shook her head as she pulled in the last few pieces. “Evan’s wife, Beth makes them herself. She’s quite skilled at ceramics and pottery. She even sells some of what she makes at the general store.”
“Wow. That’s quite a talent.” He watched her as she stood slowly, making her breath hitch as the light danced in his liquid brown eyes. His eyes reminded him of Jordy’s when he was a puppy and she was a child. They were the same open, affectionate eyes at that moment. There were times when Henry seemed guarded, but this wasn’t one of those times. He held out the trash receptacle to her, and she swept the shards into it.
“Mabel is talented as well. She made the quilt that’s on your bed.”
He lifted a brow at her. “Really?”
She nodded. “Ranch wives like to feel useful. Since we have a group supper every evening, they often help Georgia in the kitchen. They keep their houses and raise the children. Beth is currently with child. She’s due in the spring.”
Together they started walking down the hall and down the stairs toward the back door where they could deposit the mess they’d made in the outdoor receptacle. Henry turned toward her when the finished. “You’re different than the other ranch wives, though?”
She shrugged. “My mother passed when I was eight. I never knew my grandmother. So since then, I was raised by my father and then my grandfather when Papa passed when I was twelve. Though Georgia did her best to give me a motherly figure and help raise me in feminine ways, my grandfather tended to treat me as his heir and more like a son.”
A smile spread across his face. “They had you learn to rope and ride and run a ranch then?”
A laugh bubbled up. “Yes, sir. I can rope and ride and run a ranch with the best of them.”
“I bet you can,” he said, but it didn’t sound mocking, it sounded proud. And the pride in his voice made Brienne’s heart soar. She followed his gaze to the sky. A soft smile adorned his face. “Whoa, did you see that?”
She did. “A shooting star!”
“I hear you can wish on them,” he said, “but that might be a bit of childish fancy.”
The breeze picked up.
“I don’t mind a bit of childish fancy now and then. There’s more joy in childhood than in adulthood at times,” she said wistfully as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Would you like to head back inside?” he asked, the starlight twinkling in his eyes.
Would she? Honestly, it was the last thing she wanted to do. She was enjoying this moment with him and didn’t want it to end. She shook her head and asked, “Is it true you see less stars in the city?”
He smiled and began to talk to her. About his childhood, about how he used to dream about being a music composer before he joined the war. “Since then, I have hardly played the piano again. That is, until I came here.”
“That’s a shame. You shouldn’t waste such talent. When you play, you move people’s hearts. The first time I heard you play in the music store, I was moved.” Brienne immediately blushed after saying it and hoped that the darkness outside would hide her flushed cheeks.
Chapter 12
Henry shifted his stance and leaned against the side of the house. It was a bit chilly, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the moment of peace provided by the night and the moment of intimacy he was having with Brienne. He didn’t know how long they’d talked but somehow, in the dark, where neither of them could see the other’s face fully, they opened up. Henry had always considered himself a private person, but he told Brienne everything. And she listened. She didn’t rush him along or even yawn. And when he asked a question, she was forthright with the answer. She was easy to talk to and he enjoyed spending time together.
Until she finally shivered.
“We really should get back inside.” He put an arm around her shoulders.
She shook her head a little, but this time, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. They’d talked for longer than an hour, probably closer to two, with no coats as the night wore on, getting colder with each new breeze. Her shoulders fell a bit as he guided her back inside. The warmth of the house enveloped them both. They stoked the fireplaces before heading back upstairs. When they stopped in the hallway, in front of both of their doors, Henry lingered.
He didn’t want to leave her. He wanted this moment to last.
Her hair remained in its usual bun at the back of her head, but Henry remembered what it had looked like when it had cascaded around her shoulders. The memory was an intimate moment he wished to repeat. If he were a braver man... if he were really, truly her husband, he would have reached over and pulled the pins out of her hair and let it fall in wavy curls once more. But he didn’t yet feel he had the right. Maybe he would never have the right. But he was tempted and to hold himself back hurt his heart. Slowly he drew a deep breath. “We should get some sleep. Church in the morning.”
She sighed. “I suppose so. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
And they both just stood there for a long moment, neither of them turning about and heading to their respective rooms. Because she stayed, and he wanted to touch her, he lifted his hand and rubbed it down her arm from shoulder to elbow. The heat of her skin reached his fingertips through the cloth. Then he forced himself to turn around and head toward his bedroom. He heard the soft click of her door latch just before his own door caught. What was going on with him? This was the first time he had these kinds of feelings for anyone but Anna. And look how that had turned out last time? His heart raced in his chest as he leaned against his door.
He was being stupid. His feelings were getting the better of him. But his heart wasn’t listening. It was racing its own, without his permission. What happened tomorrow when Edward came again? What happened to these feelings when Brienne told Henry that she’d like to get an annulment, so she could marry Edward instead? A bitter taste filled his mouth. He’d be betrayed again. Betrayed by his feelings and betrayed by his new friend, because that’s what Brienne was becoming for him. She wasn’t just a wife on paper. She was his friend now and, potentially, something more. If only Edward hadn’t shown up when he did. Maybe Brienne could have become his real wife instead of just a convenient arrangement. This wasn’t her fault. He didn’t blame Brienne the way that he had blamed Anna. With Anna, the betrayal was deep, and the promises broken were deliberate. Brienne couldn’t help what was happening to her. He sighed and the sadness of what could have been tightened in his chest. He rubbed the spot that ached and tried to get better control of his feelings.
The next morning, Brienne walked on air. She felt that at least she could develop a close friendship with her husband, and for the first time in her life, she actually thought about the potential to have babies. A blush rushed to her cheeks again. She thought she’d live and die a spinster. When this wedding by proxy came as a way to save her ranch and give Henry a home, it was supposed to be a business arrangement only. Now she wondered if it could become something more. Maybe Henry wouldn’t love her, but they could at least be true friends. She made it downstairs long before Henry did, too giddy to stay asleep long. Georgia was already making biscuits, and Brienne stepped into the kitchen to help her cut them, like she used to when she was younger.
“You seem awfully chipper this morning. Good dreams?” Georgia left her cutting dough while she stepped to the side and began cooking the bacon. Grease sizzled in the skillet, as she made enough for everyone. In addition to the suppers, Georgia also had everyone come for breakfast on Sundays.
“Something like that.” Brienne smiled and handed Georgia the pan with completed biscuit rounds. The smells were heavenly. There was nothing like the smell of fresh bacon cooking in the morning, and soon the biscuits joined the harmony of intoxicating aromas.
Mabel and Beth arrived, carrying with them grits and oatmeal respectively that they had made in their own kitchens. Together they made the table. Soon the men began to arrive, Cal bringing his boys with them. The last
one to come down was Henry, arriving just before Brienne had acted on the thoughts that she might need to go upstairs and knock upon his door. She smiled at him, but he avoided eye contact with her, grumbling a hello.
Her heart sank. Why was he treating her this way? She blinked at him, hoping that he was just having a rough morning, but then he smiled at Cal Junior and Joseph when the boys crashed into him with hugs. He even greeted everyone else with tight lipped smiles, but more friendliness than he’d offered Brienne.
She turned away from him, tears stinging her eyes. If she couldn’t get a hold of herself before someone saw the hurt in her eyes, then she would need to deal with questions she wasn’t ready for. After taking a deep breath and blinking, she grabbed the silverware and brought it to the table to distract herself. Perhaps the feelings of friendship she’d developed last night were entirely one-sided. Unrequited love was something she was familiar with. She’d had it when she was younger with Edward and survived it—even tamped it down so that she and Edward could remain in a acquaintanceship he felt comfortable with. Perhaps she could do the same with Henry. She had just hoped for something more. She’d let her childish fancies get too much ahead of her adult rational. She should have known better.
