He thought that over for a second, then snatched her up and held her close with a grip so firm a gasp escaped her. He studied her face intently, determined to memorize every line. “I don’t believe I am interested, Mrs. Miller, in ever letting anything come between us. Not now, not ever.”
The starch evaporated from her, and she relaxed in his arms. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I expect you will.”
And with that, he knew the moment was right. He had rehearsed the words, run the scene through his head, and imagined her speechless, euphoric nod. He had two weeks to get the Reverend here. Sooner, if Naomi was agreeable. And they would be wed.
The fiddle began fading as the song neared its end, and McIntyre swatted down unexpected butterflies, irritated that they’d taken flight at all. He stopped dancing, released one of Naomi’s hands, and motioned to Shorty to hold off on the next song. He touched the pocket of his green silk vest to make sure the ring was still there. Necessities in place, he dipped his chin at Ian. Reading the signal, his friend pulled Rebecca to a stop and motioned toward McIntyre and Naomi. The former Flowers, Hannah, and Emilio all turned to them as well, sensing something.
Silence descended, interrupted only by the crackling fire. McIntyre squeezed Naomi’s hand and stepped back. A deep V formed in her brow as an amused, but perplexed, smile played on her lips. As his muscles flexed to take him to one knee, beginning to lower him, Naomi’s gaze unexpectedly shot past him to something over his shoulder. The color drained from her face.
McIntyre froze. Before he could react to her shock, a huge grin returned the glow to her cheeks. She clapped her hands excitedly and bounced past him, squealing, “Matthew!”
~~~
Matthew Miller stood in the shadows watching the party
Party.
Anger squeezed his big hands into fists. He’d gone to so much trouble to get things ready, building a house, hiring a maid, leaving a questionable man in charge of his mill. The trip here hadn’t exactly been a cake walk, either. He’d breathed coal smoke for days on the train, then high-tailed it like a mad dog to catch the first stagecoach in—a stagecoach he’d been obliged to help dig out of a snowdrift. Through it all, he’d scrambled to Defiance like a man on fire, and here they were having a party.
Jealousy coiled around Matthew’s heart as he watched Naomi dancing with some fancy-dressed tinhorn. There was no mistaking the fire in his eyes. Or hers. So what now?
As he pondered the situation, the man holding Naomi motioned for the fiddle player to stop. He then waved to the older gentleman dancing with Rebecca and they stopped as well. Sensing something, the other guests halted their conversations.
Matthew realized the possibility unfolding before him and panic shocked his nerves.
No! He hadn’t come all this way just to get here in time to kiss the bride, again. He forced himself to calm his breathing, to settle his mind. Whoever this dude was, Matthew still had one ace up his sleeve that no man on the earth could compete with, at least not anymore. He straightened up to his full six-foot-six-inch stature, rolled his head once to loosen his neck muscles, and eased out of the shadows.
~~~
Seven
Movement and a glimmer of blond hair pulled Naomi’s gaze away from Charles just as he seemed on the verge of making an announcement. A tall, broad-shouldered man emerged from the shadows at the back stoop and her heart stopped. Wide, haunting hazel eyes, a round face in a halo of sandy-colored hair, a big, awkward smile …
She sucked in a breath as astonishment shot through her like an arrow.
John?
Her heart leapt at the sight of him, but in the breath of an instant, her emotions tumbled from hope, to grief, to a wistful joy.
Matthew!
How many years had it been since they’d seen John’s twin brother? Shouts and squeals erupted from her and her sisters as they rushed up the steps to greet him. Hannah reached him first, throwing herself into his big, beefy arms. “Uncle Matt!” she gushed, using her pet name for him.
He swung her around, his booming laughter thundering across the backyard. “Is this little Hannah?” he teased, setting her down and pushing her to arm’s length. “Why, she’s grown into a beautiful woman.”
The sisters laughed, and Rebecca hugged him next. “Oh, Matthew, it’s wonderful to see you again.”
“And you, Rebecca,” but Matthew’s attention streaked straight to Naomi.
She took her turn and stepped into hug him as well. Matthew swept her up and spun her around, laughing. “And the one my brother stole from me.”
Matthew squeezed her tighter and kissed her on the cheek. Holding the smile, Naomi wiggled out of his arms and backed away, struggling to keep her expression pleasant and ignore how familiar he felt. “It’s good to see you, Matthew. You haven’t changed a bit.”
His eyes flashed at her double-meaning. “Nope, not one iota.”
In the pause, Naomi remembered their guests and couldn’t imagine how awkward they must feel, especially Charles. “You’ve arrived in time for a party, Matthew. Isn’t that always the case with you?”
“I don’t miss many on purpose.”
“Well, let me introduce you to our guests.” She turned and waved for their company to join them. The men climbed the steps to the back stoop, but the Flowers hung back. “These are our friends. Emilio,” The young man nodded. “Ian Donoghue …”
“’Tis a pleasure, Matthew.” The two shook hands.
“Charles McIntyre.” She had the urge to hang on his arm, but didn’t. Charles’ smile was as warm and welcoming as thin ice. She realized with a punch that he had been about to ask her something or make an announcement when she’d launched herself toward Matthew like a Chinese rocket. Her inadvertent rebuff was rude, but seeing the man who is the identical twin of your dead husband would rattle anyone.
Charles relaxed his smile and shook Matthew’s hand, but then his brow furrowed. “I had no idea he had a twin,” he said, his drawl rich with astonishment and something else, something not at all happy.
Matthew blinked. “Charles McIntyre? You knew my brother?”
Charles withdrew his hand and straightened. “I met him during the war.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Naomi interjected, trying to heal what was most likely a seriously bruised ego. She clutched his arm, thinking the action would make him feel better and perhaps only leave Matthew a little confused. “Charles saved John’s life at Chickamauga.”
Matthew sagged. “John told me about that battle.” He took Charles’ hand and shook it again. “I thank you for what you did. Wish you could have done it again.”
“Yes, me too.” Clearing his throat, he shifted to Naomi. “Well, I think I’ll be going. Seems you have a family reunion.”
“Must you?” Naomi pressed, hoping he could read her eyes. She didn’t want him to go.
“I think it would be best.”
“Aye,” Ian said, his Scottish burr distinct in the awkward pause. “I think we’ll let the family get reacquainted.”
Rebecca’s countenance fell a little, but she didn’t argue.
Matthew dipped his head apologetically. “I’m sorry if my arrival has put a damper on things.”
“No, of course not,” Naomi said with more enthusiasm than she felt.
“Good night,” Charles said, slipping on his hat. He untangled himself from Naomi and touched her shoulder lightly. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
He filtered past her, followed by Ian, and then Emilio. “Oh, no, Emilio,” Hannah snagged his sleeve. “You can’t go. We didn’t touch your cake.”
“It’s all right. Maybe we can have some in the kitchen later, si? You need to see your family.”
Hannah brightened at that and nodded. Naomi respected the boy’s decency, but a wave of disappointment washed over her as the group filed through the hotel’s back door. As the former Flowers shuffled by, Matthew clutched his heart melodramatically. “I truly am sorry
to see you lovely ladies leave. We’ll have to try this again.”
“Oh, forgive my manners.” Naomi gestured to the women. “This is Lily,” the tall, curvaceous black girl nodded. “Jasmine,” the delicate Asian Flower tilted her head. “Iris,” the big-boned, boisterous redhead raised her chin. “And Mollie. They’re all leaving Defiance.” Naomi grasped Mollie’s shoulder, “Oh, except for Mollie. She works here at the hotel.”
“Well, ladies, I’m sorry I have missed the chance to pass the evening with you.”
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of dance partners over in Tent Town,” Iris responded, tagging Matthew in the ribs. “But we’re not on the menu.” The other girls, all smiles, nodded. They were free and Naomi couldn’t be happier for them. Wearing not a hint of makeup and new, modest dresses they’d assisted in making, she believed the outward transition was complete. The rest was between them and God, but she had hope for them. A lot of it.
Out of quips, Matthew held the door for them as they slipped into the hotel. He didn’t, however, close it. He watched the ladies for a second more, and then turned back to the sisters, pressing his hat to his chest as if for protection.
“Maybe it’s better that they left.” He shifted his gaze to Hannah, an apology in his eyes. “I’ve got someone with me.”
A sinking feeling hit Naomi. It couldn’t be. Not on the same night. She moved closer to Hannah and crossed her arms.
“The train doesn’t come any closer than Pagosa Springs,” Matthew shifted on his feet and licked his lips. “There was a boy down there trying to figure out how to get the rest of the way to Defiance. He recognized me right off. I had a little trouble. He was about eleven the last time I saw him.”
Hannah’s expression froze. Naomi thought it a safe bet that she’d stopped breathing, as well. Matthew stepped away from the door. The floor inside squeaked and a figure stepped into the lanterns’ light. Naomi’s stomach dropped. The young, handsome Mr. Billy Page emerged from the dark. He looked at Naomi and Rebecca in turn without really greeting them, but his eyes quickly settled on Hannah and stayed there.
A palpable tension enveloped the group, like the breeze that hints at an approaching tornado. No one spoke and the stunned silence dragged on till Matthew couldn’t stand it any longer. “Really, ladies, no one has anything to say to this boy?”
Fleetingly, Naomi had the desire to slap her brother-in-law. This was none of his affair, but she realized he was right—someone had to say something, otherwise they might stare at each other all night.
“What are you doing here, Billy?” she asked, failing to mask her dislike of the boy.
He studied Hannah a second more, as if hoping he might find guidance in her expression. Met with only stoic silence, he raised his chin. “I came for Hannah and my son.”
The answer did nothing to break the tension. Naomi glanced at Rebecca over Hannah’s head. They both peered down at their younger sister.
Wearing an inscrutable expression, she took a small step toward Billy. “I should let you see him then,” she said, her voice thin and delicate.
Billy nodded, almost imperceptibly. Hannah drifted past him and Billy dutifully followed, clutching his bowler to his chest. Naomi, Matthew, and Rebecca stood in complete silence until their footsteps faded.
Finally, Matthew let out a long, slow whistle. “If that reception had been any chillier, I believe I’d have frostbite.”
Neither Naomi nor Rebecca laughed. Naomi, for her part, was stunned to see the boy. Certainly, love could have driven him the fifteen hundred miles to Defiance, but so could the desire to rebel against his father. And every time Billy had done that, fear had driven him right back to his domineering daddy.
~~~
Eight
Hannah walked slowly, calmly through the dim hotel lobby, holding her head high and her shoulders back, but inwardly, she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. She wasn’t sure if they would be tears of joy or misery, though. From behind her, she could hear the soft rustle of the bowler hat twirling in Billy’s hands. A nervous habit he hadn’t shed.
How could he show up now?
“You wouldn’t believe how I’ve missed you, Hannah,” he said as they climbed the steps.
Her first response to his lament was a spark of anger. Anger over the abandonment and betrayal.
… over the cowardice.
So many good things had come out of the situation, though, she couldn’t hate him. It wouldn’t be right. She’d told Mollie once that if Billy ever showed up, she’d forgive him because she loved him. Well, one out of two.
“Billy is a beautiful child,” she said, ignoring his comment. “He looks the most like you, but I can see a little of your mother around his mouth.”
She thought she heard a quiet, perhaps defeated, sigh from the man in tow behind her. “I can’t wait to see him.”
Hannah plucked a lamp off the wall and led them into her room. Silently, they padded up to the crib to gaze at her angel. Little Billy slept contentedly, his knees drawn up to his chest, his diaper-covered bottom shoved heavenward, and a thumb stashed securely in his mouth. Billy gasped and Hannah stepped away. She hung the lamp on the hook near the crib as Billy reached out and stroked the child’s soft golden tuft of hair.
He raised a fist to his mouth as if holding back a sound. His eyes glistened and Hannah couldn’t deny that the father of her baby was moved by the sight of his son. “He’s beautiful, Hannah. And I only see you in those angelic little features.”
She laced her fingers in front of her and bowed her head. A maelstrom of confusing emotions swirled in her heart. She wanted to run away from Billy, but knew he would take that as rejection. She needed desperately to be alone so she could sort out how she was feeling, because she had no idea.
Tall and muscular, Billy still wore his ash hair trimmed short and swept to the side. His smooth, handsome face, that deep, throaty laugh, and those sky-blue eyes used to set her heart a fluttering. But now he seemed a bit, well, too much like a greenhorn. His clothes were cut for city life. He hung his bowler on the crib’s post, and while it looked well-worn, it was a bowler. Fashionable back east, in Defiance only the meanest of men wore one, presumably because they were spoiling for a fight. She didn’t get that impression from Billy. Out here, he was just a dude.
Although, judging by her racing heart, she couldn’t deny that she still liked that handsome face and sky-blue eyes. But there was something different about him. He carried himself more seriously and less arrogantly. He didn’t have that boyish swagger she’d been so enamored of.
“I meant it, Hannah. I came for you.” He tore his focus away from Little Billy and sought her out in the flickering lamplight. “How do you feel about me? Do we still have a chance?”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t think that was what either one of them wanted to hear, but it was the truth. “You lied to me. You abandoned me. You let your father smear me, and you ran away.” Billy flinched at the accusations she fired like a Gatling gun. Hannah immediately regretted her tone, the venom in it surprising her. “I’m sorry. I don’t normally say things like that. It’s just that I honestly thought I’d never see you again and …” She didn’t finish the sentence. He got the gist of things.
“Don’t apologize for the truth.” Billy rested his elbows on the crib and shook his head. “I was sitting in a hotel in Paris three months after you left, thinking about you. It hit me then that there wasn’t enough liquor and there weren’t enough women in the world to make me forget you, but I was still too scared of my father to do anything about it.” He smiled tenderly at Little Billy. “Then one day at Harvard, I saw a professor of mine in the park with his family. They were having a picnic. His son couldn’t have been more than two years old.” Billy’s gaze misted over. “He was flying him around like a bird, dipping and spinning. The little boy was laughing hysterically.” He swallowed, as if forcing down tears. “The sound drifted over to me and I realized …,” he shifted his gaze b
ack to Hannah, “I realized I was never going to hear my son laugh, unless I quit being a child myself.”
Unexpectedly, a traitorous tear rolled down Hannah’s cheek. Billy must have seen the gleam in the dim light. He walked over to her and gently wiped it away with his thumb. He rubbed the moisture between his fingers and sighed. “I am so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, Hannah. Do you believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think you might give an old flame a second chance, maybe?” Billy flashed a rakish grin, the kind that used to launch butterflies in her stomach.
Now, she found herself thinking of Emilio. His smile, the way he doted on Little Billy, their changing friendship and the furtive glances of late. She admired his knowledge of plants and the way he worked so hard all the time. He was steady and, so far, trustworthy. And she knew for a fact that he had pushed back more than once against his domineering sister.
She swallowed, but didn’t answer Billy’s question. She didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted to hug him and kiss him and tell him how thrilled she was that he had come for her.
Part of her wanted to shoot him. She was still angry with him, and the revelation surprised her.
The silence stretched on too long. Billy shoved his hands into his pockets and lowered his head. He hunched his shoulders, bit his lip, rocked on his feet—the actions of a man planning his next words. “Well, I didn’t come all this way expecting you to throw yourself into my arms.” He peered up at her through long brown lashes, that grin making another appearance. “That is, however, something to work toward. I’ve got nothing but time now.”
~~~
Resigned that this was going to be a long night, Naomi and Rebecca sat by the fire, watching Matthew devour about half the party’s vittles. This giant of a man ate just like his twin. Naomi nodded politely as he continued a disjointed story of his early years in California, but her mind wasn’t on his words.
Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2) Page 6