Unspoken Love

by Lynn Gale - Unspoken Love

  Dr. Jones came to the entrance of the church, breaking their fixed gaze. “I need you again, Jennifer.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she called and watched him reenter the church. Feeling awkward in the man’s presence, she lowered her gaze and marched into the sanctuary.

  Nicholas stood in front of the church, thinking of the intriguing lady who had just graced his presence. Covered in mud and dressed in boy’s clothing, she had stirred his senses. She had been able to do the same last night, even after her enraged outburst when she had ordered him out of her room. Shaking her from his mind, he continued with his mission. His hair blew gently in the breeze as his booted footsteps clamored along the wooden planks. Abruptly he stopped at a law office where a sign hanging on rusty hinges read: Jason Walker, Attorney at Law. A note tacked to the door stated, “Closed until tomorrow due to water damage.”

  Rather than return to Small Timbers, the plantation that he cherished, he moseyed to the Hearthside Inn to secure himself a room. A room for him only, he thought, recalling the mix-up last night and the lady’s wrath when he tried to have his way with her.

  With time on his hands, he wandered outside to view the damage from the storm. As he gazed at the destruction, memories of his childhood suddenly plagued him. He dismissed his haunting thoughts as quickly as they came. Tomorrow he would call upon Jason Walker for the reading of his uncle’s will and then return to Small Timbers into which he poured his very soul. He rolled up his sleeves and, volunteering his services, began repairing the homes damaged from the storm.

  The church was serving as a makeshift hospital. Jenny moved from one patient to another, dutifully following Doc Jones about the room. Filled with compassion, her heart went out to those in pain. Her sleeves became stained with blood as she cleaned and dressed the patient’s wounds.

  Finally they had a moment to themselves. While Doc Jones drank a cup of coffee, Jenny tore pieces of linen into bandages. As she placed them neatly on the table, her mind drifted to the stranger she had met again today. She glanced up at the blue-eyed, dark-haired doctor.

  “Do you know the gentlemen I was conversing with earlier?”

  “Yep, that’s Nicholas Grant,” the kind doctor replied. “His uncle owned a plantation over near Leland but has since died. I suspect Nicholas is the sole owner. Far as I can make out, he rightly deserves it. He’s a good man. He must be in town to claim his inheritance. Nicholas rarely gets to Greenville since he does business by riverboat, transporting cotton and other commodities down river.”

  Their conversation ended as they went back to administering aid to the injured, leaving Jenny still curious about the man she had encountered this afternoon.

  Diligently, Nicholas unloaded lumber, his strapping form undeterred by the heavy material. He spent the remainder of the day repairing buildings. When dusk came and he could no longer see to work, he returned to the Inn. Dirty and famished, he envisioned eating a hearty dinner before retiring for the night.

  An hour later, after a bath and a shave, he ventured into the dining hall.

  Bonita tossed her coal-black hair over her shoulders and with hips swaying, carried a plate of steak and potatoes to his table. Her seductive gaze caught him off guard, and she blew him a sensual kiss before moving on to serve other guests.

  He washed the generous portions down with strong black coffee. Sated, he leaned back in the chair and stretched his long legs.

  Bonita returned to clear away the dishes. Brushing her well-endowed bosom against his shoulder, her sultry eyes appraised him. “Can we meet tonight, Nicholas?”

  Nicholas took in her shapely curves and long black hair secured at the nape. For a fleeting moment, he thought of another woman with sparkling green eyes and how her long dark lashes had swept over him with surprise earlier today. She had looked like a tomboy dressed in boy’s garb, yet she carried a certain dignity about her. He banished the pretty maiden from his thoughts when Bonita’s voice droned in his ears.

  “Nicholas?”

  “Yes?”

  “You were daydreaming.” She ran her fingers along his masculine chest. “I overheard Thelma assigning you a room. I can meet you later.”

  He moved her hand away. “Not tonight, Bonita.”

  Leaving Bonita gasping, he stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.

  An occasional dog’s yap broke the silence of the night as he dodged mud puddles and took a leisurely stroll about the city. Men tipped their hats, commented on the ravages of the storm, and sauntered homeward. Lamps burned brightly as people gathered in their parlors. He passed Ethel’s Brothel where a woman of easy virtue stood, beckoning him inside. Ignoring her sultry invitation, he continued walking. Still a bachelor at thirty-three, he found little time to court women, although females vying for his affections met his physical needs. Abandoned at an early age, he was a loner and wasn’t ready to commit to a deep relationship. Once his uncle’s estate was settled and he rightfully inherited the plantation that he’d poured his soul into, he would find a wife and have children. A lifelong relationship with a loving woman would fulfill his dreams. He smiled as he envisioned his children cuddling against him or romping in the fields but quickly shook off his daydreaming. For now, he wanted Small Timbers to continue to prosper, making his uncle proud if he were alive today.

  As the townspeople settled in for the night, Jennifer Morgan drove the wagon to the Hearthside Inn on the outskirts of town. In the darkness, she led Bessie to the stables and sought out Davy, the stable hand. “Will you feed Bessie and give her a rubdown?”

  Davy’s green eyes twinkled in the lamplight. He scratched his head, which was covered with thick, chestnut hair. “Right away, Miss Morgan,” replied the small-statured boy of fifteen.

  Leaving Bessie in Davy’s care, Jenny entered through the back door and collided with her aunt, Thelma Smith.

  Aunt Thelma grinned, no doubt at her tomboy attire, and gave her a hearty hug. “I’ve been waiting for you, Jennifer. Come into the kitchen, I’ll fix us a light supper.”

  Jenny dropped into a chair by the large wooden table. She watched her short, plump aunt bustle about the room, putting together sliced beef sandwiches, fruit, and beverages for them.

  Aunt Thelma set the food on the table and joined her. “I’ve never seen a storm such as the one that blew through the other day,” she said. “We are lucky to be alive. And you are such a dear, helping at the church.”

  “It’s the least I can do, Aunt Thelma,” Jenny replied before biting into her sandwich.

  “How’s my brother faring?” Thelma inquired.

  “Father is doing fine, and Molly continues to pamper him.”

  “I’m glad to hear he is doing better. She sent her an inquiring look. “Do you still have your heart set on owning your own business someday?”

  “Oh, yes, Aunt Thelma, ever since Father let me accompany him on a trip up north when I was twelve. While he bantered with a merchant, I browsed in the store, touching delicate lace and satin. The pretty pink dried roses held a certain fascination for me, and I loved smelling the fragrant soaps.” Her lips parted into a dreamy smile. “From that day on, I knew that I wanted a shop similar to that one when I grew up.”

  Aunt Thelma patted her hand. “Never give up your dream, even if it is a farfetched idea that others would scoff at, if they knew about it.” She leaned forward. “Your secret is safe with me.” Aunt Thelma shoved a strand of gray hair into her loosely woven bun. Her usually chipper blue eyes appeared tired. “We must retire, Jenny. It’s late, and I have to be up at dawn.” She sighed. “Poor Edward, he’s been so busy that I’ve not spoken with him all day! I do hope he is sleeping.” Aunt Thelma gave her a reassuring wink. “We’re so crowded that we have patrons sleeping on the floor, but I knew you’d be staying over tonight. So I saved your room again.”

 
Jenny knew because of its compact size, Aunt Thelma and Uncle Edward only put travelers in the room when the others were full. She insisted it was just fine for her when she came to town and had stayed there on several occasions.

  Jenny stood and cleared the table. “Don’t let me detain you, Aunt Thelma. I enjoyed our visit. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

  Thelma untied her apron and tossed it on a hook then moseyed from the kitchen.

  Soon Jenny sauntered down the corridor, her mind focusing on the injured people that she had nursed today. She collided into a hard-muscled patron and looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes danced with amusement as he steadied her. His fingers seared her skin with his touch. Heat rushed to her cheeks for her clumsiness. Of all people, she had bumped into Nicholas! Casting her eyes downward, she mumbled an apology. “I am forever tripping or falling!” she exclaimed.

  Nicholas’s lips parted into a smile. “It’s my pleasure to catch you, Ma’am.”

  Words failed Jenny. Finally, she managed to utter, “Goodnight, Mr. Grant,” then hurried to her room.

  An interesting thought struck Nicholas as he watched Jenny race down the hall. She’d been curious enough about him to learn his name. Perhaps this day was not a total loss.

  He stepped into his room and lit the lamp. Peeling off his shirt, he prepared for bed. From the corner of his eye, he saw a movement and looked down to see a black cat dart out from under the bed. “What the . . .?”

  The cat leapt onto the dresser and knocked the lamp to the floor. Flames shot into the air, licking the drapes. Quickly Nicholas tossed a pitcher of water on the curtains, then yanked them from the window and stomped out the flames. He set the lamp back on the bureau and glanced around the room, catching sight of the furball sitting in the corner. The frightened feline watched him, its jade-colored eyes somehow reminding him of the woman who had bumped into him in the corridor.

  He walked slowly toward the scared animal, stepping back abruptly as the nervous cat sprinted across the floor and jumped out of the window. Relieved to know the temporary stowaway wouldn’t cause him any more trouble, he closed the window.

  Someone tapped at the door. He cracked the door and saw Bonita standing there.

  “I know you aren’t expecting me, but I came to warm your bed,” she said seductively.

  “Sorry, Bonita, I just had to deal with a near catastrophe, and I’m not in the mood for romance.”

  Bonita stood in the corridor and stared at Nicholas. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You have spurned my affections twice!” she scolded. “Other travelers enjoy my favors and pay me well. Of course, I have to sneak around while pleasuring these men or the righteous Thelma Smith would send me packing.” She pouted for a second then gave Nicholas a cynical look. “Do you think I am beneath your station because I’m a servant at the inn?”

  “Not at all, Bonita. I’m just not up to it tonight.”

  Her chin jutted upwards. “I saw you leave a certain woman’s room the other night. Maybe she—”

  “That is not your concern, Bonita.”

  She twirled her ebony hair around her finger, and her lips parted in a salacious grin. “It will be everyone’s concern if the town hears about it—”

  “Our conversation is over,” Nicholas chastised and slammed the door shut.

  Chapter 3

  Nicholas sat in Jason Walker’s office and listened to him read his uncle’s last will and testament. Shaken at the lawyer’s words, he found that he needed a wife earlier than he planned.

  “James Grant willed the plantation to you with the stipulation that you take a wife and remain married for one year. Of course, he hopes you will stay married. If after the year is up and you separate, the land will still be yours.” He went on to explain, “James was a family man at heart. As you know, he sired no children, but he yearned to do so. It was his dream to see a new generation farming the plantation that he had labored over. James is counting on you to carry on the Grant legacy.” Jason paused for a moment and then continued, “James was a good man, mind you, but a little eccentric. This will attest to his unconventional behavior.”

  “I’m shocked at my uncle’s request,” Nicholas said, trying to make sense of it all. “I suppose he thought if I took a wife she would be with child by the years end.”

  Jason perused the will again. “If that happens, your marriage will stand.”

  “Marriage means a lifelong commitment, not a temporary arrangement. I am elated that Uncle James wants to will Small Timbers to me, but I feel blackmailed by his demands. What happens if I don’t comply?”

  “The plantation would go to the State of Mississippi to be used however—”

  “I can’t let the plantation slip through my fingers,” Nicholas interrupted. “I love Small Timbers. It’s my life’s blood.” He let out a deep breath. “I plan on marrying someday and raising a family but to find a wife so quickly seems impossible, even coldhearted.”

  “I understand Nicholas, but it is your uncle’s request.” He paused for a moment. “It’s the only way to inherit the plantation.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to follow through with it.” He resigned himself to carry out his uncle’s request. He sat facing Jason, his back to the door. Drumming his fingers on the mahogany desk, he tried to plan his future, but the women he knew were not the marrying type.

  While he contemplated his dilemma, Jennifer Morgan barged into the room.

  “Oh, I am sorry, Jason. I didn’t realize you had a client already. Father wanted me to pick up some papers before I head back to the farm. He said you would know which ones.”

  “I do, Jenny, come in,” the stodgy lawyer said. “Nicholas Grant, may I introduce you to Miss Jennifer Morgan.”

  Rising from the chair, Nicholas turned and faced Jennifer. His robust frame filled the room as he extended his hand. His words were almost caressing. “Hello, Miss Morgan, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  No doubt he is! Jenny thought, rankled by his complacent attitude. Had she not endured his ardent kisses and fiery touch upon her body? Her cheeks flushed as she was haunted by memories of his near ravishment of her. Despite the fact that he was extremely handsome and she had churned inside from the moment they met, he had taken liberties unbecoming of a gentleman. She felt Jason’s eyes upon her and knew she had to respond, lest she arouse his suspicion. With a slight nod of the head, she coolly replied, “Hello, Mr. Grant.”

  Jason smoothed back his thinning brown hair. A look of puzzlement crossed his plain features.

  “Where did I put those papers?” he mumbled. “It’s a good thing I store my files on the shelves, or they’d be saturated from the sodden floor that I had to contend with yesterday.” He gave Jenny and Nicholas a pensive look. “Perhaps you two can get acquainted while I search for the documents.”

  Warily, Jenny eyed Nicholas as Jason sorted through his files. Jason eyed them through silver-rimmed spectacles. He cleared his throat and shuffled the papers. “Ah, here they are Jenny. Tell your father I’ll be out to see him soon. I hope his health is improving.”

  Abruptly Jenny turned from Nicholas. Gathering the papers, she folded them and stuffed them into her reticule. “Again, I apologize for the intrusion, Jason.” She glanced back at Nicholas, noting how his eyes danced with amusement.

  “The pleasure was all ours, Miss Morgan.”

  Jenny’s cheeks flushed and her pulse quickened at his hidden meaning. Thanking Jason, she bid him farewell and then rushed out the door to escape Nicholas’s teasing.

  “A lovely woman she is.” Jason sighed as Jenny exited the building.

  “Tell me about her,” Nicholas insisted.

  “Jennifer Morgan lives with her father in the country. They own a small livestock farm.”

  “Is Jenny married?” Nicholas interrup
ted, his mind racing for more information.

  “No. Thomas Morgan wants Jenny to marry, but she won’t hear of it. She was twenty on her last birthday. Women her age have husbands and are strapped with children but not Jenny. She’s an independent filly. Oh, I reckon she’ll marry someday, but it has to be of her own choosing.” His blue eyes danced as he lowered his voice and continued, “If I were a mite younger and not a confirmed bachelor, I’d ask Jenny to marry me.”

  Nicholas chuckled and shoved his hat on his head. “Good day, Jason.” With an air of confidence, he strode to the door and made a hasty departure. He walked the distance to the church in search of Jennifer. Encountering Doc Jones, he asked of Jenny’s whereabouts.

  “Jenny left for the farm. She has a special way with my patients. I could use her talents more often.” The doctor sent Nicholas a speculative glance. “Pardon my boldness, Nicholas, but are you taking a fancy to Jenny?”

  There was a glint in Nicholas’s eyes. “Let’s just say my intentions are honorable. Where does Jenny live?”

  The kindly doctor smiled. “About two hours east of here. The farm is located on a slope. You can’t miss it. Jenny stays with her ailing father.”

  “Thanks, Doc, I may pay the lady a visit.” Tipping his hat, he moved on to the stables, hoping to catch Jenny before she reached home. He mounted Dexter, a fine chestnut-colored stallion, and rode hard until he caught up with her.

  Jenny pulled Bessie to a halt. Planting her feet firmly on the buckboard, she stood up and rested her hands on her hips.

  “Why are you following me?”

  Nicholas’s deep voice cut into the once peaceful, sunny day now fraught with tension. Jenny’s mouth flew open in protest as he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her from the wagon. He steadied her on her feet.