Jonah's Bride

by Jillian Hart

  "I may have given her that impression." Jonah knelt to study the cow's underbelly. Her udder was not full or dripping. The birth would not be immediate. "We'll need to bring this cow into the stable before she calves."

  "But Tessa-"

  "Don't worry about my wife, Thomas. We both know what love can do to a man, and no woman will have that kind of power over me. I like Tessa well enough, mayhap even more, but I'll never love her. She will never have me on my knees, doing her will just to see a glimpse of her smile."

  "Ah, we both remember how our stepmother used Father. And the ruin that came from it. But I've been thinking. Mayhap not all women are made of the same cloth. Tessa works alongside the servant, not lording power over her. She has asked for little and puts you and Father above her own needs. I think because she expects affection from you in return."

  "And why are you worrying about my wife?" Jonah ground out.

  "Because she gazes after you with puppy dog eyes. As if you are her own personal hero who saved her from a brutal marriage to Horace Walling or a life of servitude in her grandfather's home. She lights up when you smile at her in a way I have never seen."

  I love you, Jonah. How her breathy, honest words haunted his memory, rang in the empty chambers of his heart.

  Love was an emotion, if genuine, that came from within. His heart had been numbed from years of battle so that, like ground frozen too long, nothing could grow from it. No matter how bright the sun or how temperate the spring.

  The village of Baybrooke stretched out before her, the commons a dull winter-grass green beneath a sky as gray as regret.

  Jonah set his strong hands on her waist and lifted her down from the wagon. She rather liked the feeling of being in his arms, even just for a moment, the bunch of his muscled shoulders hard beneath her fingertips.

  A door swung open and a narrow-faced woman managed a genuine smile.

  "Mistress Tessa, I mean, Mistress Hunter." Rachel Briers grabbed hold of both Tessa's hands. "Please, come in. Major Hunter, I have tea hot and ready for you."

  "That would be fine. Did you receive the fabric I had sent over from the ship?" How competent and commanding he appeared in an ebony shirt and breeches. A shock of dark hair tumbled over his brow, as black as his gaze that riveted on her. "Tessa has sworn to cooperate."

  "I'm perfectly capable of making my own dresses." She blushed, not at all comfortable with such treatment. Goodness, she had been sewing for herself since she was six years of age. But Jonah had explained he wanted to do this for her, because Father's recovery would take time and attention, and she would not have the chance to sew anytime soon.

  "Tessa, cooperate?" Rachel hid a smile, though the corners of her mouth upturned with good humor. If there was one person Tessa could call friend in this village, it was Rachel. "I've known her ever since dame school, and not once have I spied a single moment of her cooperative nature. But you, Major Hunter, seem to bring out the best in her."

  "Only in public," Tessa piped up, and their laughter rang in the cozy room.

  How good it felt here, in Rachel's parlor, safe from the curious gazes of many of the villagers. There was no chance of running into Charity or Violet here either, since Grandfather was not rich enough to hire out the sewing.

  "Let me fetch the teapot and we can begin." Rachel spun away, gesturing toward the simple but tidy benches. "Please sit and make yourselves comfortable."

  "Let me get the tea." Jonah, so big he shrank the small parlor, gave an awkward but endearing shrug. "You women go ahead and do whatever it is you do."

  He tossed her a wink, the devil's own light shining in his eyes. He left her sight, yet the brightness in her heart remained.

  "I want you to know I didn't believe one word of those rumors," Rachel whispered, leaning close to grab her sewing box. "I think he truly loves you. Look at these wonderful fabrics he bought you. Sensible cottons, but very finely dyed and woven."

  "Aye." Choosing such beautiful cloth while Charity and Violet watched across the table had been a pleasure. 'Twas her pride again, but just this once it felt fine to have more expensive things. "No matter what Jonah says, I want a simple design. Not much different than what I've been wearing."

  "He's a man of means, Tessa." Rachel unfolded a length of green linen. "He'll want his wife to dress appropriately."

  "Something simple, Rachel. Trust me." Tessa could not imagine wearing a gown too impractical to do her chores in. "I still plan on living as I always have, Jonah's bride or not."

  Rachel's lips pursed, but she said nothing more as she lifted the moss green fabric to Tessa's chin. " 'Tis a becoming color on you. I was thinking a bodice and an underskirt of this green, with the floral over it."

  " 'Twould be very nice." Tessa tried to imagine how wonderful it would feel to wear such a dress, so different from the drab homespun she'd always worn.

  "Tea?" Jonah stood in the threshold, one broad shoulder braced on the doorframe, holding two steaming cups.

  His gaze speared hers, so intimate and knowing. She thought of their lovemaking, of her confession, of the silence when he didn't answer.

  He had to love her. See how he treated her, all the wondrous cherished words he'd said, standing up for her against Charity, and now buying her such beautiful things when she already had perfectly serviceable dresses.

  These were not acts of an unloving man. Unlike her mother, she had not traded security for a cold marriage, a roof over her head in exchange for her usefulness. Jonah could hire nurses or servants. He did not need to marry in order to have someone clear his table or tend his father.

  He leaned close, and heat sizzled the back of her neck. "You look beautiful in green."

  At his words, the love in her heart doubled once, and then again.

  After too much tea and women's talk, Jonah excused himself to the stable, although he was well pleased at Tessa's happiness. She'd not argued overly much at the new clothes, and once she'd stepped foot inside Mistress Briers' parlor, her eyes glimmered with a rare happiness.

  Aye, without the mantle of hardship heavy about her slender shoulders, she was a beautiful woman. He wagered others could see it now, too, and he was glad. There were other reasons to have married Tessa, not just for his father's sake. He wanted to protect her, wanted naught but good things for her. After the way she treated him as her husband and how she aided Father, she deserved all he could give her.

  Even now, through the open stable door and across the yard, he could see her in the lighted kitchen window. She sat at Rachel's trestle table, sipping another cup of tea over more talk of ribbons and buttons and bows, no doubt, or whatever it was women discussed.

  Even from here, he could see how happiness lit her face, all paleness gone, replaced by rosy cheeks and a quiet smile and eyes that sparkled a vibrant blue. How relaxed she looked, at ease. Her dark hair tumbled out from its braid in places to twist around her heart-shaped face, to brush at her dark collar.

  Aye, she deserved all that he could give her. He could not deny a warmth, a feeling that made his chest hurt every time he looked at her.

  "Major Hunter." A breathy, childish voice spun him around in the stable. He blinked, the image of Tessa replaced by Violet Bradford. She fluffed styled curls with one hand, plumping them near her face.

  A shot of alarm pierced his gut. "Where's your chaperone?"

  "My mother, you mean?" Violet tilted her head to one side, working her eyelashes as if a bug had flown into both eyes. "She's currently across the street at Mistress Hollingsworth's."

  "Then go there directly."

  "But Mama is inquiring about hiring the oldest girl to come work for us. She told me I was in the way." Violet arched her back, seductively, as if to show off her bosom.

  "I don't care if she is conferring with the king himself. I want you out of my sight." He dared not be caught alone with a girl like this, and started off on a brisk walk toward the house. He'd seen too much of dark hearts not to recognize one now.
<
br />   "Everyone knows you were going to propose to me." Violet trotted after him and reached out. "Don't deny it."

  He twisted away from her bold touch, anger rising. "I expect you to obey me, little girl. Go find your mother." Violet only smiled. "I know that awful Tessa tricked you into marriage, but that doesn't mean we can't be together."

  "Enough!" he roared, hearing his voice echo against the bare-limbed trees.

  Violet slapped her hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. "But you c-came by at m-meeting day-"

  "To see Tessa, not you."

  Tears sluiced down the girl's ruddy face. She turned, wailing, kicking up flecks of earth and mud as she darted across the road and disappeared into the house. A door slammed with a show of temper.

  He headed inside the stable, considering Violet Bradford's mistake. Or maybe manipulation. Aye, he was sorely glad he did not give in and choose a woman that young, self-absorbed, and conceited.

  The lighted window drew his gaze. He saw Tessa rise from the table, laughter touching her lips. Like ice cracking on a thawing pond, his chest hurt. How it hurt in places long untouched by spring.

  * * *

  " 'Tis lucky Mistress Briers had a dress just your size." Jonah's gaze flicked over her, his eyes hot, his smile seductive.

  "You should not have bought it." The dress she held in her arms, folded in paper, was too much. But Jonah had insisted. Rachel had sewn the dress for Thankful Bowman, but the Bowmans didn't want the dress after all, now that Major Hunter had chosen a wife.

  "Why shouldn't I buy gifts for my wife? I'm glad to do it, Tessa. Besides, you look beautiful in soft colors. Look, we're home. Go upstairs and change into it. I want to see you in something besides homespun."

  Her heart beat with love for him. Strong and stoic, his jaw a tight line, he offered her his hand to help her to the ground. His touch was solid, but his eyes were shadowed.

  Something troubled him. He treated her well, keeping a hand on her elbow in case she slipped in the mud, although she was perfectly capable of walking by herself, and complimenting her in the wagon when he'd told her how good she'd looked in the colors they had chosen. Yet something was changed.

  "Jonah, Tessa." The colonel greeted as they stepped through the door.

  Tessa set down her package on the small stand by the door and, still wearing her cloak, marched across the polished floor. "Samuel, I left strict orders for you to stay in bed."

  A healthy pink blushed the old man's cheeks.

  "Aye, I've not needed to follow orders in a long time. I am sorely out of practice."

  "Nay, you're just obstinate, that's what you are." Tessa was not fooled. She loosened the ties on her cloak. "You could catch a chill."

  " 'Tis why I am sitting by the fire."

  "You are still in danger of overstraining yourself."

  " 'Tis why I am sitting in this chair and not dancing around the parlor."

  Tessa saw the same devil's gleam in her father-in-law's black eyes. "The lot of you are rogues through and through. What am I to do with you?"

  "Are you angry with me, Mistress?" Wide-eyed Anya stepped into the room, a dishtowel twisted between both work-chapped hands. "I told him he was to stay in bed, but he would not listen."

  "Nay, I don't blame you. I blame this slick-tongued old man and his sons." So, affection warmed the words. She didn't have the practice in teasing that the men in this family had. "Where are the other guilty parties?"

  "Master Thomas is checking on the cows in the stable. Master Andy is upstairs."

  Jonah's boots knelled on the wood floor. "Upstairs?"

  "Aye, his head is troubling him still." Anya stared hard at the towel she held. "Will you be needing any tea?"

  "Nay, Anya." Tessa allowed Jonah to take her cloak, touched at his thoughtfulness. 'Twas good to be loved by such a fine man. "But the colonel will be needing his afternoon medicine."

  "Fie on your wicked brews." Samuel waved one big hand, his face crinkling in a show of bitter distaste. "I've not tasted such foulness in my whole life."

  "That tea is the reason why you're alive to complain about it." Tessa could not help laughing. "Get accustomed to following my orders, Samuel."

  "Why did you have to marry that one? She is fearsome and bossy. Have you not taken the spark out of her yet, boy? Take her to bed some more, then, and wear her out." Humor sparkled in those old eyes.

  Tessa blushed and Jonah's hand settled on her shoulder.

  "Father, my wife has been too busy tending to a demanding old man who thinks he knows everything. But he doesn't."

  The colonel laughed, his chest rumbling, but there was no cough. "It does me good to think I may yet live to see my first grandson. Jonah, fetch me a new book. I've finished this one, and Andy is resting."

  "Tell me which book you prefer." Jonah shouldered over to the bookcase, leaving her side.

  She loved the way he walked, strong like a lead wolf, each step one of confidence and power. Her heart ached simply gazing at him. "Anya, are you feeling familiar with the house?"

  "Aye." The servant trailed behind her to the kitchen. " 'Tis a larger place than where I came from."

  The fragrance of the warm fresh loaves greeted her when she stepped into the kitchen. How tidy everything looked, from the dishes washed and stacked in the glass cupboards to the scrubbed work counter to the clean cloth on the board table. The wood shone from floor to wall to cabinets with the polish of hard work.

  "Anya, even I could not have done so much cleaning in just a single day."

  "I want you to be happy with me." The pain on the young woman's face reminded Tessa of what it was like to have no home of her own, no family, no one who valued her for more than her work. "This is such a fine position, much better than where I came from."

  The contracts for indentured servants could be bought and sold. Tessa had heard mention of how badly some young women were treated. And that was why she chose Anya from the half dozen servants on the ship.

  "You must not worry so about earning your place here. And now that you've done more than a day's work and 'tis hours yet before supper needs to be started, take the rest of the afternoon for yourself."

  "But I-"

  "Jonah suggested there were old clothes of his sister's stored in the attic. Mayhap you would like to head up there and choose a few more work dresses for yourself, and something nice for church."

  "Thank you, mistress." Anya bowed her head and scurried away, her worn homespun skirt snapping with her quick gait.

  "Not many fine women married to rich men in this village, or any other for that matter, would treat a servant girl that way." Jonah's lazy step brought him closer.

  Her skin heated and prickled, anticipating his touch. "Kindness will not make an industrious person lazy. I've found 'tis a common misconception."

  "Aye." He wrapped his arms around her and drew her full up against his chest. Substantial and hard as steel. She leaned her cheek against his breastbone and heard the dependable beat of his heart. "Father is refusing to drink your tea."

  "He can't refuse, Jonah."

  "I know. Trust me. I'll find a way to convince him to drink that putrid brew."

  "You? I was looking forward to doing battle with the old man." She laughed against him, rejoiced in the vibrating rumbling of his chuckle beneath her ear.

  "I hate to deprive you of such fun, but I'm worried about Andy. 'Tis not like him to take to his bed in the middle of the day."

  "Mayhap he needs a stronger dose of birch bark tea." She wrapped her arms around her husband and hugged him tight, but when she withdrew, shadows darkened his eyes.

  Mayhap he worried about his brother, 'twas only natural. But ever since she had revealed her heart to him, told him she loved him, she feared… aye, 'twas only fears. He hadn't answered her then, but hadn't he already confessed his feelings for her when he first proposed? And again many times over in his every word and deed.

  "I will see to your brother." She br
ushed a kiss across his mouth and he kissed her back, fiercely, passionately, erasing any question, any doubts.

  Jonah watched his wife disappear in the dark stairwell, her skirts swishing around her slim ankles, then melding with the shadows. Her step brushed light on the wooden stairs above, and he ached at her absence. The new dress he'd bought her from the seamstress sat in its wrapping on the table by the door, forgotten in her haste to see to others.

  He could not fault her, for 'twas why he married her. He ought to be glad she lived up to his expectations and made his marriage a good one. But it bothered him too, for Thomas' words and his own shortcomings weighed heavily on his conscience.

  Father was recovering and may not be as infirm as the surgeon led them to expect. He looked robust, muttering curses and complaints over Tessa's bird dropping tea. He had seen her grind the herbs himself, but Father tended toward hyperbole.

  He was left with a wife who loved him. Who held such tender, magical feelings for him, even after he told her what he was, no hero, no great soldier to esteem, but a man like any other. She still loved him.

  "Father, you're not drinking the tea."

  "This tastes worse than the mud in the road after haying season when all the horses and oxen have been trodding up and down it." Father's face puckered after another minuscule sip.

  " 'Tis one of Tessa's brews that saved your life, you stubborn old man." Thank God for Tessa and her herbs. "You had better do what she says, because I need you alive and well, just as my brothers do."

  "Have you tasted this brew?" Sparkles of humor and downright willfulness flicked in the corner of his mouth.

  "Nay, although I've heard you describe it in great detail." Wryly, Jonah reached out and caught the cup before Father could upturn it into the hearth.

  "Boy, if you value my life, let me accidentally spill this horrid tea."

  "I heard that." Tessa swirled into the light, her braid flicking over her shoulder, her dress shivering around her slender woman's curves. Aye, but she looked a sight. "Samuel, spill all the tea you want. I have more."