Rebecca shook her head. The whole conversation was out of place.
“A soldier,” her father began, “reported seeing the lieutenant with a young woman in his arms last night in the midst of a hostile attack.”
Rebecca opened her mouth but he waved for silence. “He said he couldn’t tell which of the young ladies was with the lieutenant but it isn’t hard for me to guess.”
Rebecca took a step forward. “You believed him?”
“Of course I did,” her father shouted, coming to his feet. “I know my daughter! Your aunt has kept me well posted on your activities.”
Rebecca’s heart was pounding in her ears. Somehow she had to make him see reason. All of Clark’s comments about the trouble she could cause him came back to her. “The attack was over,” she said.
The colonel nodded slowly. “So it’s true, isn’t it? The attack was over…by the time you went to him? If this soldier saw you in his arms, what else happened that he didn’t see?”
Rebecca felt her cheeks warm. “You can’t do this to him,” she whispered. She had brought this on Clark. There had to be a way to save him.
Her father watched her, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “Why not?”
Rebecca swallowed. “Because…we’re planning to be married. If you court-martial him, it’ll ruin my life as well.”
He stepped toward her. “Is that the truth?”
Rebecca nodded. “I love him, Father.”
“I suppose that changes things,” he said, moving back to his chair. “It puts me in a damnable position, though. The man takes liberties with my daughter using promises of marriage to break down her resistance.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Father.”
The colonel ignored her. “Is there any reason the wedding can’t take place this evening?”
“This evening?”
“Yes, of course. The fort being in the condition it is, there’s little use trying to plan some huge celebration anyway. Might as well get the deed done, don’t you think?”
He was watching her closely. He was expecting a protest! Well, he wouldn’t get one from her. Clark was another matter. “I need to talk to him.”
“Out of the question. You go home and do what you can to make the tent presentable. I’ll talk to your lieutenant.”
“But Father—” But what? She couldn’t hardly tell him she needed to explain the situation to Clark. How furious would her father be when he found out there had been no such promises exchanged? Surely he would force the marriage rather than go ahead with the court-martial!
“Come, girl. I’ll see you make it home without getting lost We can explain the situation to Belle together.”
Rebecca stifled a groan.
One empty little tent, separated from the rest, was designated as the guardhouse. Clark stretched out on the ground and tried to be grateful that he hadn’t simply been chained to a tree. Not that having his ankles and wrists in shackles was much more comfortable. He was at least out of public view.
He had known from the beginning that any involvement with the colonel’s daughter would mean trouble, though he hadn’t anticipated quite this much. And exactly why he was in chains was still a mystery.
He seriously doubted if his current predicament was caused by anything Rebecca had said. Of course, confronted with her behavior she would probably weep and say whatever was necessary to protect herself.
He frowned at the image. He had been thoroughly convinced of that a week ago. He wasn’t so certain now.
He unbuttoned his blouse and removed the bundle from the inside pocket. Rebecca’s hair wrapped tightly in a handkerchief. He didn’t open it; the danger of being interrupted was too great It was enough to hold it in his hands and let it stimulate memories of Rebecca.
It smelled faintly of smoke. It had been with him when he had sifted through the ashes with her. The only time it had been out of the pocket was when his uniform had been washed.
At first he had regretted that the smoke had contaminated his treasure, but now it reminded him that Rebecca wasn’t quite the frivolous girl she had once seemed.
He closed his eyes. He had let himself hope that with her father’s consent he could call upon her, court her. In his fantasies he even won her. Obviously her father was going to be harder to convince than he had thought.
He heard voices outside the tent, someone speaking to the guard. He tucked the bundle away and rolled to his feet. The last button was back in place as Colonel Huntington ducked into the tent.
The colonel stood for a moment then spoke over his shoulder. “Bring a light. I want to see the prisoner’s face.”
Clark shifted position as he waited. The clank of the chains made him wish he had held still. They sounded somehow hopeless. Not exactly what he wanted to portray during this interview.
The guard finally brought a lantern and set it on the ground.
“Are the chains necessary?” Huntington asked.
“There are no bars, sir.”
The colonel took a step closer to Clark. “Do I have your word you won’t try to escape?”
Clark couldn’t conceal his surprise. “Yes, sir.”
“Remove the shackles.”
The guard complied quickly but left the chains lying on the ground, a silent reminder that they would be restored as soon as the colonel left.
“Thank you, sir,” Clark said, rubbing a numbed wrist
“Do you know the charges against you?”
Clark took two slow breaths. “No, sir.”
“There are a number of formal charges I can make but basically it comes down to seducing my daughter.”
Clark kept his eyes locked with the colonel’s. “There may be some truth in that, sir.”
“Did you leave your post during a battle for a tryst with Rebecca?”
Clark blinked. “No, sir.”
Huntington waved a hand in the air as if he had somehow become sidetracked. He paced for a moment, studying the ground. He stopped directly in front of Clark. “Do you love Rebecca?”
Clark wished he knew what Rebecca had said to her father, and he to her. The question could be a trap, perhaps more for Rebecca than for himself.
“Sir,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “I tried to see that your daughter and I were never alone. I meant to protect her reputation. But it is true that I encouraged her visits. And I’ll accept the blame for whatever damage was done.”
“Hmm.” The colonel nodded. “Interesting. But it doesn’t answer my question. Are you in love with my daughter?”
With no understanding of where this was leading, Clark decided on honesty. “Yes, sir.”
Huntington spent another moment pacing. Whether it was to help him formulate his next question or to increase his prisoner’s concern, Clark couldn’t guess. Though it was definitely doing the latter.
Abruptly the colonel stopped. “I understand there were certain promises made.”
“Sir?”
“Namely marriage.”
Clark swallowed. What was going on? “Is that what she said?”
“Are you denying it?”
Clark hesitated. “No, sir.”
Huntington seemed to find that amusing. Clark was too bewildered to guess why.
He slapped Clark on the back. “The girl pleaded for your career, Lieutenant. It seems if you’re courtmartialed it’ll ruin her life as well, since she’s determined to keep her promise under any circumstances and marry you.”
“I see,” Clark said, and thought he did. She was trying to take responsibility for her actions as she had when her flirting lessons had gotten Alicia into trouble. It was a noble sacrifice, one he couldn’t accept. “May I talk to your daughter, sir?”
The colonel shook his head. “Nope. She’s getting ready for the wedding. You should do the same. You can see her at my quarters in say…an hour.”
“Sir, I’d like to talk to her first.”
Huntington looked significantly down at the shackl
es and back at Clark. “In an hour. In your dress uniform. Prepared to make her your wife.”
Clark walked toward Colonel Huntington’s quarters certain that no bridegroom had ever had quite the same case of jitters. But few bridegrooms were ordered to their wedding by their commanding officer.
There was still a possibility that there would be no wedding. He would arrive at the Huntington tent several minutes before the appointed time. Surely the colonel wouldn’t deny him the opportunity to speak to Rebecca alone. He had to know why she had lied to her father. Unless this marriage was what she truly wanted, he wouldn’t go through with it.
The idea brought a sinking feeling to the pit of his stomach. Returning to the jail tent wasn’t nearly as demoralizing as learning that Rebecca had no true feeling for him. For a moment he wished he could simply not ask.
In the breezeway between the two tents, Clark softly called her name. The openings to the tents faced each other. He could hear muffled women’s voices behind the closed flap of one.
“Forrester!” came a hearty voice from the other. Huntington clapped him on the back and all but pulled him into the tent. “You’re early. That shows more eagerness than I expected.”
The sparsely furnished room was bedecked with wildflowers, no small feat on such short notice. Still it was hardly the wedding she had no doubt dreamed of.
“I need to talk to Rebecca, sir.”
“She’s still getting dressed,” the colonel said, moving to a small cupboard and collecting a bottle and two glasses. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. Sir, I need to know this is what she wants.”
The colonel poured a splash of whiskey into each of the glasses and brought them toward Clark. “Have a drink and stop worrying about it.”
“Sir, I have no intention of marrying your daughter against her will.”
“It was her idea, wasn’t it?” Huntington smiled and urged the glass into Clark’s hand. He raised his own. “To marriage.”
Clark refused to return the toast “I have nothing against marriage and certainly nothing against the idea of marriage to your daughter. But if she’s doing this because of some sense of responsibility for my career…”
“Forrester, you’ve known Rebecca for what? Eight, ten days? You know she’s a manipulative little flirt.”
Clark took a sip of the whiskey.
“I’ll be glad to see her safely married,” the colonel continued. “To be honest, son, I’d feel a little sorry for you, except I figure a man used to commanding troops ought to be able to keep her in line.”
Clark couldn’t resist. “You haven’t, sir.”
Huntington chuckled. “She’s my daughter. It’s different. Wait until you have one of your own.”
Huntington set his empty glass on the table then changed his mind and hid it beside the bottle in the cupboard.
“That brings up another subject,” he said returning to stand in front of Clark. “I recommend that you get the girl pregnant right away. A child to look after should settle her down.”
Clark was sure the shock he felt must show on his face. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, your daughter comes by her talent for manipulation quite honestly.”
Huntington laughed. “You said you love her. I’m doing you a favor.”
“Sirs?”
They both turned toward the open tent flap.
“What is it, Sergeant?” the colonel asked.
Clark stepped forward. “I asked Sergeant Whiting to serve as my witness, sir.”
“Well, come in and toast the bridegroom,” the colonel said, returning to the cupboard.
“My pleasure, sir.” The sergeant leaned close to Clark. “You should hear the rumors, sir.”
Clark motioned him to silence. Rumors were the least of his concerns right now. And without a chance to talk to Rebecca, he saw no choice but to go through with this marriage made by Colonel Huntington.
Or maybe he didn’t want a choice. He could tell the colonel right now that he was returning to the guardhouse. That he wasn’t letting Rebecca sacrifice her freedom.
Instead, he watched Huntington hand a glass to Whiting and raise his refilled glass. “To the bridegroom.”
Clark downed the last of his whiskey.
The chaplain arrived and Huntington poured another round of drinks. Clark took only a sip and deposited the glass in the cupboard with the rest when the colonel went to tell the ladies that he would abide no more waiting.
“That’s enough, Aunt Belle. There’s nothing more you can do for my hair.”
Rebecca had sat through what seemed like hours of lecturing, though it couldn’t possibly have been that long. The upshot of it all was that Aunt Belle felt extremely sorry for poor Lieutenant Forrester. He was getting a frivolous, selfish wife who would likely continue to flirt with other men. A cruel trick since he was marrying her to save her reputation. Rebecca’s only chance of avoiding marital disaster was to become a serious, hardworking wife, a miracle Aunt Belle did not imagine she would live to see.
Earlier, while Alicia was out picking flowers, Aunt Belle had shared her knowledge of men and their needs as well as a wife’s responsibilities. The information implied that the stolen kisses were most likely the last of the fun. Belle’s assertion that a man might enjoy a flirtation with a stranger but would be disgusted by the same behavior in a wife seemed entirely unfair.
Rebecca knew Aunt Belle had heard her father’s summons, but still the woman fussed with a curl that failed to hide one of the many pins that held flowers in her hair. “It looks fine, Aunt Belle.”
“I guess it’s the best we can do,” Belle said with a sigh. “Alicia, are you ready?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Rebecca stood and turned to her cousin who sat on a cot in the far corner of the tent. Alicia seemed more in horror of Rebecca’s sudden marriage than her mother did. Aunt Belle was of course pleased to be rid of her.
“Then I suppose we should proceed,” Aunt Belle said, “before your father yells at us again. I’ll go first and send your father back to escort you. Alicia, you go in just ahead of them.”
Rebecca laughed. “It seems a little odd to stick to tradition at this point.”
Aunt Belle’s answer was an unladylike grunt.
“Alicia,” Rebecca said, taking advantage of a moment alone. “Don’t worry about me. I’m marrying the man I love.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in love.”
“I didn’t. But I do now. Please don’t be so frightened.”
Alicia took a step toward her, looking more anguished than ever. “If I’m caught kissing a man, will he make me marry him?”
Rebecca wished she could assure her cousin that it wouldn’t happen, but she wasn’t so sure. “He’s not making me marry Clark…exactly. This was my idea.”
“So he’s making Clark marry you. Somehow that’s worse.”
Rebecca didn’t know how to answer her cousin. Her father didn’t give her a chance, anyway. He stepped into the tent and took her arm. She had to hold him back long enough to give Alicia a head start.
She stepped out of one tent and into another and saw Clark waiting for her. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. He was so handsome. And so serious. She wanted to see that eyebrow quirk up in surprise. A dimpled smile would probably do it, but she was too nervous to manage it
Her father put her hand in Clark’s and they turned to face the chaplain. The ceremony was brief. To Rebecca’s surprise, it was her father who produced the ring.
“It was Rebecca’s mother’s,” he said, handing it to Clark. “Since I have no son to pass it to, I want her to have it.”
“Thank you, sir,” Clark said, then slipped the ring on Rebecca’s finger.
“I pronounce you man and wife,” the chaplain said. “You may kiss the bride.”
Clark’s kiss was brief and entirely too chaste. He was as nervous as she. Or perhaps she wasn’t nervous at all. Perhaps what she felt was anticipat
ion. Clark’s earlier kisses had made her long for something more, something only partially understood.
But Aunt Belle’s words confused her. She wanted to be a good wife to Clark. Aunt Belle might know better than she what that meant Perhaps, she decided, she would take her cue from Clark.
Colonel Huntington poured another round and toasted the new couple. Then Clark, with Rebecca’s hand firmly clutching his, led the way out of the tent. The other officers were waiting and sent up a cheer at their appearance. A command performance, Rebecca assumed, since few of them knew Clark.
They started toward Clark’s tent with the crowd following.
Clark leaned close to Rebecca’s ear. “When I moved into my tent, I didn’t know I’d be sharing it.”
Rebecca hadn’t thought of that Of course Clark’s tent wouldn’t be as large as her father’s. “We’ll be a little crowded but it’s only for a few months.”
“Space wasn’t exactly my concern.”
“What then?”
His voice dropped even lower. “Rebecca, I can’t provide you with even the most basic of comforts.”
Rebecca pictured herself wrapped comfortably in his arms and smiled. “What,” she murmured, “do you consider basic comforts?”
“A bed. A stove. A floor.”
Rebecca had to laugh. “Until the fort’s built, we all live like this.”
They had reached the tent, and Clark and Rebecca turned to face the crowd. Rebecca counted only two women besides her relatives. The other wives, she guessed, were waiting for the quarters to be built before joining their husbands.
“I thank you, gentlemen and ladies,” Clark said in his smooth drawl, “for your good wishes. If you would excuse us now, my wife and I…have some things to discuss.”
Rebecca’s cheeks grew warm from the laughter that followed his remark. She turned toward the tent. Clark reached around her to raise the flap. She stepped inside and felt him enter behind her. The sight that greeted them made her laugh. “Someone’s taken care of your first concern, anyway.”
It was definitely the ugliest bed she had ever seen. It looked like the frame had been made of scrap lumber. The mattress was three mismatched ticks split open and stitched together. It seemed a little long for its width, or perhaps a little narrow for its length. And it took up at least a third of the entire tent.
The Unlikely Wife Page 13