“And if he doesn’t?”
Shadows filled Franny’s eyes. Indigo knew then that Franny’s first man hadn’t had a care and that he had hurt her, badly. The realization made her forget all about her own troubles for a moment, and when she came back to them, they didn’t seem quite so monumental. But for the grace of God, she could be in Franny’s shoes.
Franny licked her lips and didn’t seem able to meet Indigo’s gaze. “Even with an uncaring man, it doesn’t hurt bad, Indigo. No worse than a thorn prick on the finger.”
Indigo knew Franny was fibbing to spare her. In a tight voice, she said, “I love you, Franny.”
Franny flushed with pleasure. “Do you, truly?”
“I’ve never had a sister. I think you’re as close as I’ll ever come. Thank you for talking to me.”
Still rosy-cheeked, Franny flashed a dimple and said, “What is a sister for, if not to talk to?”
Wishing she could stay longer, Indigo threw a nervous glance at the clock on the bedside table. “I guess I’d better go before Ma wrings me out and hangs me on a post to dry.”
Franny nodded. “Cheer up, hm? The next time I see you, this will all be behind you, and we’ll laugh about it together.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Franny pushed up from the bed. “Think of all the women who have gone before you. We’ve all survived. You will, too.”
As Indigo started out the window, she paused and turned back to give her friend a quick hug before she stepped out onto the sharply sloped roof. Franny grasped the bottom rail of the double- hung window to draw it down. “Have a care. Don’t slip.”
“Right now, I’d welcome a broken neck.”
Franny giggled. “Just remember, think daisies.”
As Indigo shinnied back down the oak tree, she sent up a quick prayer of thanks for having been blessed with such a good friend. Franny, the soiled dove. For at least the hundredth time, Indigo wondered what had led such a sweet girl into a life of prostitution. Franny had never said, and Indigo respected her right to privacy, but that didn’t stop her from being curious.
One thing was for sure. If Franny could survive what she did, night after night, by thinking about daisies, the same method was bound to get Indigo through the first night with Jake.
By the time Jake got back to Wolf’s Landing, he was saddle weary and hoarse, the first because of the twenty-mile ride, the second because Father O’Grady was deaf and loved to converse. When Jake opened the front door of the Wolf home and called out to let everyone know he was back, he forgot to adjust his volume and startled Indigo. No explanations proved necessary. When Father followed Jake in and began booming “Hello” and “What’s that ye say?” it became apparent why Jake was roaring. Within seconds, so was everyone else.
Once Jake had quizzed Loretta about her visit with the marshal and had learned Brandon Marshall was being questioned, he was able to relax a little. The moment he did, he found he couldn’t take his eyes off Indigo. She wore a white doeskin skirt and blouse with matching moccasins, all embellished with beadwork. With her hair brushed to a tawny, silken cloud that rippled past her waist, she was the loveliest woman he had ever clapped eyes on. She was also the palest. Her skin had blanched so white he couldn’t be certain where the doeskin began and she left off.
Jake couldn’t help but anticipate the coming night. Neither could he ignore the fear he read in her gigantic eyes. She seemed almost timid, which didn’t correlate with the spirited, brave young woman he had come to know. He wished she hadn’t ended their talk in the barn so abruptly. It couldn’t be easy for her, being thrust into marriage with a stranger. The least he should have done was set her mind at ease. As if he could. He had enough of his own misgivings. Marry in haste, repent at leisure.
After embracing and bestowing his blessing upon both Loretta and Indigo, Father O’Grady went into the bedroom. In his lilting Irish brogue, he boomed, “Hunter, me good man, why is it that every time I see ye, ye’re lying about like a lazybones?”
Not quite certain how he wanted to deal with Indigo as yet, Jake went to the bedroom doorway and leaned a shoulder against the jamb. It amazed him how relaxed the priest seemed to feel in the Wolf home, as if he were a relative here for a visit.
“Good evening, Father.” Hunter closed his eyes when the priest bestowed a blessing upon him. “It’s good to see you.”
“What’s that?”
Hunter raised his voice and repeated himself.
“Especially on such a happy occasion, eh?” Father lowered himself into the rocker. “Oh, but the old bones do ache!” He glanced toward Jake. “’Tis a fine son- in-law ye’re getting.” Father rocked forward and gave Hunter a conspiratorial wink. Measuring off an inch between thumb and forefinger, he said, “Except for one wee flaw, that being that he’s a Methodist.”
The priest said Methodist like he might have said leper, but Jake took it as it was meant and chuckled. O’Grady settled back and set the chair into motion with a push from his stubby legs.
Casting a glance beyond Jake to make certain the women hadn’t approached the doorway, the priest whispered, “Ye’ve heard the one about the nun who asked all the wee children what they planned to be when they grew up?”
Hunter smiled and glanced at Jake. Father’s whisper was nearly as loud as a normal speaking voice. “No, Father, I have not,” he replied, just as loudly.
“When asked, one wee girl said she wanted to be a prostitute. The nun gasped and cried, ‘What did ye say?’ The wee girl repeated herself.” The priest began to chuckle so hard that Jake doubted he’d ever get the joke told. “When the nun finally understood her, she sighed in relief and said, ‘Oh, praise God, I thought ye said a Protestant!’ ”
Jake laughed. Hunter, however, didn’t. He eyed the priest with absolute solemnity and asked, “What is a Protestant?” The disgruntled expression that crossed O’Grady’s face struck Jake as more funny than the joke, and he laughed all the harder.
“Hunter, me man, sometimes ye do try me patience. A Protestant is a non-Catholic, ye see.”
“Why did you not say non-Catholic?” Hunter asked.
The priest waved a hand. “’Twould ruin the whole thing.” He threw Jake a glance. “’Tis me hope that the point did not go over yer head like the joke went over his.”
Jake grinned. “I told you I’d study the faith and give conversion a lot of thought.”
Father nodded. “A great deal, I pray. A mixed marriage isn’t at all the thing, ye know, and with the wee lass’s Indian beliefs tossed in—well, a couple needs a bit of common ground.”
Jake agreed. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “If you’ll excuse me, Father, I think I’ll wash up.”
The priest waved him on his way and turned to boom a question at Hunter about the mines.
Jake washed, shaved, and changed clothes in record time, thankful that no one downstairs wore formal clothing. In keeping with his assumed identity as a miner, Jake had packed only denims and work shirts in his saddlebags.
When he climbed down the loft ladder, he approached Indigo at the table, where she was intent upon frosting the cake. She lifted wary eyes to his. Once again, Jake was baffled. Was this the same girl who had braved a dangerous mining shaft?
“Can you leave the rest of that to your mother?” he asked. “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes before the ceremony.”
Loretta overheard and came to finish the cake. “Don’t be long, Indigo. Father O’Grady will want to hear your confession.”
Jake assured Loretta they would return shortly, then guided Indigo out the front door. Once on the porch, he led her to the railing and, before she guessed his intent, lifted her to sit on it. Bracing a hand on either side of her, he leaned forward until their faces were scant inches apart.
“I think we need to talk.”
She leaned away from him and nearly lost her balance. Jake snaked an arm around her waist and caught her from falling. She gasped and planted
her hands on his shoulders.
“Indigo,” he began. “About tonight.”
That was as far as he got. Father O’Grady opened the door and said, “Now, now, there’ll be plenty of time for that later, Jake, me man. ’Tis time for confessions and the nuptials.”
“Just one minute, Father,” Jake came back.
“I haven’t a minute.” The priest waved impatiently. “’Tis not a wonder to me ye’ve ruined the colleen’s reputation. Look at ye now, making eyes on the porch, for all eyes to see. Young men were more clever in me day.”
Jake swallowed his irritation. “I’d like to have a word with her. Then she’s all yours.”
“Ye’ll have yer word after, lad.” The priest gave them an exaggerated wink.
Defeated, Jake stepped aside. Indigo jumped down and hurried into the house.
From that moment on, Indigo felt as if everything happened with dizzying speed. Father O’Grady heard her confession. Afterward, he stood with her and Jake at the foot of her father’s bed and performed the ceremony. Before she quite knew how it happened, the priest pronounced them man and wife.
“Now she’s all yers,” Father O’Grady said with a broad grin. “Ye may kiss yer bride and make eyes on the porch all ye like.”
Indigo looked up at her husband. When he bent his dark head, she held her breath, recalling Brandon’s kisses that fateful day when she bit him. Jake surprised her by taking her face very gently between his hands and scarcely brushing her mouth with his. As he straightened, she blinked. Surely, that wasn’t all there was to it.
As if he guessed her thoughts, he smiled, took her hand and chafed it between his. “You’re like ice.”
She was clammy as well. She tried to pull her hand free, but he held fast and drew her to the bedside table to sign the documents in the presence of her parents. The pen dripped ink and made a splotch as she pressed the tip to the paper. She began to shake as the magnitude of what she was doing sank home. For a moment, she couldn’t remember how to spell her name.
Jake settled a hand on her back. For some reason, his touch bolstered her. She slashed her signature along the line, then handed him the pen. Their eyes met, his warm and strangely reassuring, hers frightened. He bent to sign his name.
Father O’Grady rubbed his palms together. “ ’Tis official. Ye’re wedded, in the eyes of God and state. Now we can partake of that delicious meal ye ladies have prepared.” When he turned toward Loretta and saw the tears welling in her eyes, he cried, “Be joyous, child. Ye haven’t lost a daughter, but gained a son. A fine one, too, aside from one wee little flaw, that being he’s a—but enough of that. I’ll not be accused of driving the point into the ground.”
Jake laid down the pen and rested a hand on Indigo’s shoulder, his long fingers curling warmly and applying the slightest pressure. It was done. She belonged to him.
A searing sensation rose up the back of her throat. She had become that which she most abhorred, a white man’s squaw. If he chose, he could govern her every breath.
As if he sensed her terror, Jake, still gripping her shoulder, bent his head to hers. “It’ll be all right,” he said huskily. “Leave the worrying to me. Just enjoy the evening.”
Enjoy the evening? It was easier said than done. With Jake’s muscular frame looming beside her, she had one thing on her mind, the end of the evening.
Chapter 10
THE AIR FELT DAMP AND COLD WHEN THEY stepped out into the night. Slinging his saddlebags over his right shoulder, Jake took Indigo’s arm, positioning himself between her and the street as they walked toward the north end of town to her aunt Amy’s house. The warmth of his hand penetrated the soft leather of her sleeve, the grip of his fingers gentle but hinting at latent strength.
When she glanced up at him, she felt breathless. To her frightened mind, he seemed to loom taller than he had before, a solid wall of power that could at any moment unleash itself on her. The decisive and crisp tap of his boots on the boardwalk seemed indicative of his mood, as though he had set himself to a task and intended to get it accomplished with little delay.
Indigo looked up at the Lucky Nugget. It might be wise to practice Franny’s art of conjuring before the moment of reckoning was upon her. Using all her strength of will, she tried to block out Jake Rand’s presence and concentrate. Daisies refused to come clear in her mind. Instead, she immersed herself in memories of Lobo when they ran free together in the mountains.
Lobo. She had been so wrapped up in her own concerns this evening that she had scarcely thought of him. A lump welled in her throat, and she lost her train of thought. If not for Jake striding beside her, she would have wept for all she had lost, especially her freedom. Her days of roaming the mountains might well be finished now. That would be up to her husband.
Jake sighed and repositioned the saddlebags on his shoulder. For an instant, his thoughts drifted to Emily. He should write to her at the first opportunity. The trouble would be in finding a private moment to do it. He couldn’t risk Indigo spying the letter and discovering who he was. And wasn’t that a fine kettle of fish? He didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from her.
For the moment, though, he had more immediate concerns. The distant look in her eyes worried him. Beneath his hand, she felt brittle with tension. As they drew near the house they would temporarily call home, he tried to think of something he might say to ease her mind. Nothing came to him.
If only they knew each other a little better, he might have had a clearer understanding of what she was thinking. What did a young woman feel on her wedding night? Would she like to talk for a while? Should he take her hand, kiss her? Or would that make matters worse? Judging by her expression, she looked forward to the consummation of their marriage with about as much enthusiasm as she might have the extraction of a tooth.
For an instant, he considered giving her a little more time to adjust before he exercised his conjugal rights. Just as quickly, he shoved the thought away. At best, he would be willing to wait no more than a few days, and her attitude wasn’t likely to undergo a significant change in so short a time. Since he had no intention of living like a monk, there was little if any point in postponing the inevitable.
He had already bitten off a large enough chunk of trouble by marrying her. He didn’t need sexual frustration added to the list. As Father O’Grady so wisely said, a couple needed common ground. What better place than the marital bed to find some?
Glancing down at Indigo, he recalled that first night when he had held her in his arms, how incredibly right she had felt, as if her body had been shaped especially for his. He sensed there were fires to tap within her. His only problem would be in getting her to relax long enough for him to arouse her. At the thought, a burning knot of longing centered low in his guts.
As they stepped onto the porch, he fancied he could hear her heart pounding. What in God’s name did she think he intended to do to her? Before he opened the door, he turned to look down at her. The sharp scent of pine touched the damp night air.
“Try to relax, Indigo. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Her small face glowed like a white oval in the dim moonlight. She lifted wide, frightened eyes to his. Jake paused to study her a moment, not quite able to shake the feeling that something about her had gone way off plumb. Was this the same young woman who had tried to foreman a crew of grown men? The same girl who had stepped into her father’s shoes and done a credible job of carrying out his many duties?
He pushed the door open and moved aside for her to enter. She stepped to the threshold and froze, peering ahead into the blackness. He nudged her inside and closed the door behind them. Acutely aware of her rigid body inches away from his, Jake waited for his eyes to adjust, then made his way toward a round table where a lantern perched. He set his bags on the floor and groped for the box of matches. In moments, the lamp hissed and light flared, throwing their shadows upon the walls.
Chafing his hands, he glanced around to familiarize himsel
f with his surroundings and said, “It’s chilly in here.”
“I laid a fire,” she replied in a shaky voice.
Jake turned toward the hearth. “So you did.” He carried the matches with him and crouched to light the kindling. Flames leaped and rose toward the chimney. He grabbed the poker and repositioned the logs.
“Well, that’s done.” He knew he was stating the obvious. Conversation never had been his strong point. Pushing to his feet, he turned toward her. “It’ll warm up in here in a minute.”
Lifting the lantern, he left her to stand alone in the flame-touched shadows while he took a quick tour of the tiny house. It was a far cry from his home in Portland. When he returned to the sitting room, he placed the lantern back on the table and gravitated toward the fire.
Indigo didn’t know if it was the firelight, the shadows cast by the lantern, or a combination of both, but he seemed more ominous by the moment. Flickering amber played upon his face and gave his sharply carved features a sinister look. His wind-tossed hair glistened like polished ebony.
When he caught her staring at him, a slow smile touched his mouth. “Come over here, Indigo.”
She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.
His smile deepened. “Come on. It’s warmer over here.”
Her feet felt as though they weighed a hundred pounds. She moved toward him, afraid to do otherwise. As she drew up by the hearth, he leaned a shoulder against the mantle and gazed thoughtfully at her. He was making her feel like a troublesome arithmetic problem that he was determined to figure out. The air suddenly seemed too close, and she found it difficult to breathe.
“Closer. You still can’t get warm there.”
She took two more steps. There was no mistaking what that gleam in his eye meant. Whether she wished it or not, he planned to have her. From the first instant she saw him, she had read him as a man filled with purpose, who accomplished what he set out to do. Now bedding her was his goal. It went without saying what the outcome of that would be. She couldn’t help but remember how easily he had dealt with Brandon.
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