Inside, it wasn’t quite as dreary as she’d imagined. She’d heard that things were rather utilitarian out west. No pretty furniture, colorful rugs or fancy wall coverings like they had in Boston. But instead of being dull, this home had rustic charm. The walls were made out of the same logs on the inside as were on the outside. Sunlight flooded in from a large window on the other side of the living room which opened up to a view of tall, blue mountains.
The furniture looked like it had been made from logs right out of the woods in back. She'd heard pioneers were frugal and, as Robertson had confirmed in the buggy, they used what they had on the land. But this furniture looked sturdy and the cushions appeared comfortable.
The room was softened by wool rugs in earth tone patterns, rust-colored drapes and several paintings hanging on the walls. All evidence of a woman's touch, Faith noticed, and wondered absently how many women had helped Mr. Blackburn decorate his home. From what she had heard, he'd had the company of many.
“Mr. Blackburn is waiting in his office.” Robertson gestured down a hallway and Faith fell in line behind him. It figured that Blackburn couldn't be bothered to come to the front door to greet her. Her experience with Charles had disillusioned her with all men and she'd since noticed most of them were selfish and shallow. It was actually rather appropriate that he be waiting in his office, as this was, after all, simply a business transaction.
Robertson couldn't have been walking any slower, or so it seemed to Faith. She willed herself to remain calm while her heart tapped out a loud rhythm on her ribcage. She wanted nothing more than to get this meeting over with. She had plenty of time to glance into the rooms as she passed. One had books lining three of the walls and a huge stone fireplace on the other. A library! The sight of it lifted Faith's spirits—she loved to read. Maybe she could pass her time—when she wasn’t spying—by reading books.
Robertson had stopped at a room two doors down from the library. Faith crept up beside him, peering into the room as he tapped on the door. The room was large with cabinets on one side and a desk in the middle. Two calfskin-covered chairs sat on this side of the desk, but it was what was on the other side of the desk that caught Faith's attention.
Jax Blackburn.
He sat at the desk with his back to them, staring out the window as if her arrival meant nothing to him. Which it probably did. She’d heard they were short on manners out here and that Jax Blackburn was not to be mistaken for a gentleman. If she'd had any doubts, this proved it. Why, he could barely even turn around to look at her.
She studied the figure in the chair as she waited for him to turn. His shoulders were broad. His dark hair was a little longer than fashionable but, thankfully, it didn’t look greasy or unkempt. It curled slightly at the end where it brushed the collar of his denim blue shirt. In the second before he turned, she tried to imagine what his face would look like. Probably hard and bitter. His skin leathery and scarred from years of hard living and bar fights. She imagined the corners of his lips would be pulled down in a bitter grimace, his brows etched together in a scowl.
When he turned around, his face was nothing like that at all.
His skin was tanned—not leathery as she'd imagined, but more of a healthy bronze color. His aristocratic nose led to a strong jaw. His forehead was furrowed but not in a scowl, more in a way that a man who has seen deep emotional pain might look.
For some reason, Faith felt a momentary pang of sympathy for him.
His smile lit his face, showing off perfectly straight white teeth. Faith's eyes drifted up to his. They were the color of caramel and as he came around the desk it seemed as if they were looking right through her, almost as if he could see into her very soul. As if he knew everything about her … even the real reason she was there.
Faith's heart leapt into her throat. She resisted the urge to flee, reminding herself that it was impossible for him to know why she was really there. Lefty had intercepted the other mail order brides' letters addressed to Blackburn and made sure Faith's was the only suitable one, but they had been very careful. There was no way he could have found out.
She thought she saw a flicker of surprise register in his eyes as she tore hers away.
“Miss Bailey?” His eyes flicked from her to Robertson.
Faith dipped her head. “Yes. And you are Mr. Blackburn?”
His brow furrowed as his gaze swept down her body. Probably noticing how worn and outdated her dress was. As if he was a fashion plate in his blue ranch shirt and thick canvas pants. His heavy black boots thudded on the wooden floor as he stepped closer to her. The butterflies in her stomach increased their flapping to a frantic pace.
He stood next to her, almost a good foot taller and she vaguely registered the scent of pine and sandalwood. “I hope you had a good trip.”
She had to tilt her head back to look up at him. She knew he didn’t really care if she had a good trip but she kept up the charade. “It was adequate.”
He lifted a brow at her tone, but merely said, “Well, then, welcome to Wild Heart Ranch.”
The deep timbre of his voice set off a strange unwanted feeling of warmth inside her. What was that all about? She wasn't sure but what she was sure of was that he was standing uncomfortably close to her. She took a step back.
“Thank you.” She looked down at her feet, remembering that she had answered his letter as a dowdy, soft-spoken woman. The less she said, and the less contact she had with this man or anyone at the ranch, the better. She hoped the meeting would end soon.
“I’m sure you’re tired after your long trip.” Jax fished in his pocket pulling out something on a long, brown velvet ribbon. He dangled it in front of her and she realized it was a skeleton key.
“As I told you in our correspondence, this is mostly a business transaction. I'm starting a business in town and I need to be married in order to get the town to approve the various licenses, leases and loans.” His gaze drifted out the window as he continued. “I haven’t been the most upstanding citizen and I need a reputable wife to show them that I am mending my ways.”
In the doorway, Robertson snorted and Jax shot an angry look at him.
Faith figured it was better to keep her mouth shut.
Jax thrust the key toward Faith. “The proposition being purely business as it is, I do not expect you to share my room. You will have your own room here. This key will lock the door so you can be assured of your privacy.”
Relief swept through her. She hadn’t realized how nervous she’d been about Jax’s expectations. Her correspondence with him had been done mostly through Lefty and she didn’t trust that Lefty had told her the whole truth.
She reached out for the key and their eyes met again. She felt the fluttery feeling in her lower belly as they held each other’s gaze. Her fingertips brushed against his, causing a tingly sensation to ricochet up her arm.
He might have felt the same strange sensation because she thought she saw something in his eyes. No, it must have been her imagination because the next second there was nothing there. Almost as if a door had been slammed shut. The warm, tingly feeling that had been spreading throughout her turned ice cold and she felt a prickle of fear as she clenched the key in her fist.
What in the world had she gotten herself into?
* * *
Jax stared at the woman in front of him, his fingers still tingling annoyingly from their touch. Did she really consider herself to be dowdy and unattractive? That’s what she’d claimed in her correspondence, yet the woman in front of him was anything but … and that was exactly what he didn’t need.
He recognized something in her stormy blue eyes. Something sad, almost as if she’d seen heartbreak the same as he had, but also something else. Spirit. He was certain that she wasn’t the shy, quiet mouse she’d claimed to be in her correspondence.
Sure, her clothing was plain and dowdy, but he could see that underneath it she was shapely. And her hair was the softest golden color, like cornsilk—at least the few strands t
hat he could see, the ones that had escaped from underneath her bonnet and were curling against her slightly flushed porcelain cheeks. He wondered if it would feel silky on his fingertips as he inhaled her subtle lavender scent.
He jerked his gaze from her to her delicate fist which was now curled around the key as if it were clutching a lifeline. He let the brown velvet ribbon slide from his fingertips and she clutched the key to her chest. Her eyes dropped to the floor, but not before he saw something else in them. He wasn’t sure what it was. Defiance? Fear? He had no idea why she would be feeling those things.
She had no reason to fear him. That was the last thing he wanted. Though he needed her to perpetuate his ruse, he didn’t want to harm her. They wouldn’t live as man and wife. He couldn’t—he had no room for a woman in his heart. But he hoped they could become friends, especially since they would have to spend quite a bit of time together out in public.
He looked down at the long lashes that fluttered against her pale skin. Meek and mild? He didn’t think so. He sensed a spirit in her and also something else. Something that made his hard heart soften just a little bit and caused a spark of unwanted feelings. Feelings that he’d buried deep down inside himself, hoping they would never, ever surface again.
He blinked, locking down those feelings and hardening his heart once again as the ribbon fluttered away from his hand.
“Robertson will show you to your room. I’ve already arranged for the wedding. It will be tomorrow at ten a.m. sharp.” He turned abruptly and walked to the window, leaving his back to the woman. He knew it was rude, but he didn’t dare look at her any longer. She’d looked so frightened and vulnerable when he’d announced the abrupt wedding date that he was terrified those feelings would bubble up inside him again.
He didn’t turn from the window until he heard the sound of their footsteps recede into the hall. And when he did turn, he saw the flutter of her skirt and the profile of her face. Not a homely face like he’d been expecting. A face of exquisite beauty, and though he couldn’t see her cornflower blue eyes from that angle, the longing to look into them once again was there, floating under the surface, threatening to break through the lines of his rigid control.
Muttering a curse under his breath, he wrenched the chair out from behind his desk and dropped into it. He had important business to tend to and he didn’t want to get distracted by the arrival of his new bride, even if it was a marriage in name only.
The scent of lavender lingered in the air. Jax waved his arms in front of him to disperse it and then started back to work on the letter he was writing to the board of selectmen. His plan was coming together and he didn’t need any glitches to screw it up. Especially not his wedding tomorrow, which was coming in the nick of time as he would need a proper wife to be on his arm for the Easthams’ party on Friday.
Glancing up at the doorway, a strange feeling of foreboding stabbed his heart. The last thing he’d wanted was a wife, but it was a necessity. His plan was to avoid her as much as possible. They would live separate lives except when they were out in public together.
He congratulated himself on his idea of giving Faith the big room at the opposite end of the house from his and the key with which to lock it. That was wise, indeed, because he had a funny feeling that it was a very good thing the future Mrs. Jackson Blackburn would be locked in her room as far away from him as possible.
Chapter 4
Inside her room, Faith’s stomach roiled with nerves. She was getting married tomorrow morning! She didn’t know what she had expected, certainly not any romantic type of wedding or courtship, but tomorrow was so soon. Then again, she had no choice and it was better to get it over with as soon as possible.
She unclenched her fist and looked at the shiny silver key in her palm. She’d been holding it so tightly that it had made an imprint in her skin. She went over to the door and locked it, then slipped the brown ribbon round her neck and stuffed the key down inside the top of her bodice, feeling it slip down to rest near her heart. At least with this key she felt safe locked inside her room.
She felt a twinge of guilt. Here she was being glad that Jax had given her a key as if he posed her some threat when it was he who needed to be afraid of her.
Alone and secure, Faith let herself relax. Jax had been generous with her accommodations. The room was large and much nicer than anything she’d ever had when married to Charles. The bed had a wide brass headboard and footboard that gleamed in the sunlight. The thick log cabin quilt on top of the mattress added cheery color to the room. There was a pine blanket chest at the foot of the bed, a pine dresser and two windows that overlooked the pasture and the mountains behind it.
She squinted as she looked at the mountains. Somewhere out there was the information she needed to set herself free.
The smell of roasted chicken and baked beans wafted in from somewhere in the house and made her stomach grumble. She had been too nervous to eat breakfast and had only taken a small slice of bread in the buggy. She was famished.
Tap. Tap.
Her heart jerked in her chest. Someone was knocking on her door and for a minute, she feared Jax had figured out why she was really there and he had come to confront her. But then a woman’s voice filtered through the doorway.
“Missy Faith. You in there? When you get settled, you come down to the kitchen and I’ll fix ya’ somethin’ proper to eat.”
Faith unlocked the door, swung it open and looked down into the startled face of an elderly woman who was only about four feet tall and almost just as wide. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled up on top of her head in a bun and her wrinkled skin showed the wear of sunshine and hard work.
The woman’s hands flew up to her cheeks. “Lordy, I didn’t ‘spect you to pull that door right open. I’m Maisie Buttersworth. I do the cooking and cleaning and whatnot for Mr. Jax.”
Faith’s heart swelled at the welcoming smile on the woman’s face. Maisie looked genuinely pleased to have her there. But then caution overrode her excitement. It wouldn’t do to be making friends with anyone in this house.
“Thank you. I am quite hungry.” Faith slipped out the door, latching it shut while Maisie gave her outfit and appraising look.
“Is that all you got to wear?”
Faith blushed at the women’s directness. “I have one other dress, but it’s not much better. I don’t come from money.”
“Well, we’ll have to see about that. I’ll have a talkin’ to with Mr. Jax. He needs to get you some proper clothin’ for a lady of your stature.” Maisie started down the hallway and Faith followed her past Jax’s closed office door, past the library, through the front foyer and into an open kitchen.
Faith marveled at how the woman could talk about Jax that way. He was her employer, but Maisie talked about him like he was a child she needed to school. Faith thought it odd, especially since she’d heard Jax Blackburn was a hard man, not someone who would tolerate his cook talking that way.
The kitchen was surprisingly large and well outfitted. Pots bubbled on the six-burner stove, the smell of the wood fire spiced the air and enhanced the smell of chicken, bread and beans. Shelves and cabinets ringed the room and a screened door opened outside to what looked like a vegetable garden. In the center of the room sat a long rectangular table made out of rough wooden planks and surrounded by ten wooden chairs.
Maisie pushed Faith down onto one of the chairs. “You just sit right down there. I’ll fix you a plate.”
She took a plate from a shelf and bustled over to the stove then used large silver ladles to dispense food from the bubbling pots. She shoved the heaping plate of food in front of Faith and stood looking down at her with her hands on her hips.
“You eat up, now. I know you must be hungry after your long trip.”
Faith could hardly do anything else under the woman’s watchful eye. She was afraid Maisie would wrap her knuckles with a ruler if she didn’t eat the food or at least taste it. She dug her fork into something that looke
d like chicken and gravy. Robertson’s words about not making friends with the chickens drifted through her mind, and she tentatively took a taste.
It was surprisingly delicious, savory and creamy with some spices that she couldn’t quite recognize. It was as good as any meal she’d had in Boston.
Faith looked into Maisie’s beaming face. “This is delicious.”
Maisie’s laugh filled the kitchen. It was an unrestrained, joyous sound that made the corners of Faith’s mouth tug in a smile. “That’s right, my cooking is second to none. You won’t get better in any fancy restaurant. If you want good eatin’, you come to the right place.” She tilted her head to look at Faith’s body. “You are a skinny little thing but I’ll plump you up right good. ‘Specially once you taste my famous flapjacks and syrup. That’ll fatten you right up. We can’t have the new Mrs. Blackburn wasting away.”
Faith shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the mention of her new name. After tomorrow morning she would be Mrs. Blackburn. Maisie must have sensed her dark thoughts because she sat down at the table, putting her chubby hand over Faith’s.
“Now, I know you must be a might bit nervous, but there’s nothin’ to worry ‘bout. Mr. Blackburn, he’s a good man. Though he might not seem that way at first.” Maisie removed her hand and settled back in the chair, her face clouding over. “Thing is, he needs a good woman whether he knows it or not. He might seem a bit rough at first, but he’ll come around. You just give him some time and you’ll see.”
Faith looked down at her plate. She didn’t know where Maisie was coming from, but from what she’d heard, Jackson Blackburn didn’t need a good woman. She’d heard he had plenty of women and liked it that way. He wasn’t one to settle down. She wondered if Maisie knew their marriage was simply a business arrangement. She hoped so, but it seemed like the old woman had high hopes it would turn into something more.
As she ate the food, Faith’s thoughts turned toward the job at hand. Several years ago, Boston had been filled with talk about the discovery of gold out here at Pike’s Peak.
Faith (Goldwater Creek Mail-Order Brides 1) Page 2