Looking into the mirror, Luke ran a hand through his hair, sending it into a tousled state of dishevelment.
As an upstanding citizen of the town, a responsible man of nearly thirty, Luke felt like a nervous boy thinking about his bride. Legally married to the tempting woman in the other room, Luke realized he was more in love with her than he thought would ever be possible.
Despite his vow to never wed, to never fall in love, to never care so deeply about a woman, he’d do anything for Filly. If she asked him to jump off the barn roof, he’d climb up there and ask her which direction she wanted him to fall.
Only he knew, deep in his heart, Filly would never take advantage of his love or his loyalty. She’d never hurt him intentionally, would always try to protect his heart, and that’s part of why he loved her so deeply and completely.
This visit from his parents proved what Filly had already unknowingly taught him - not all women were like his mother.
While his father pampered, spoiled and indulged his mother to the point of her being impossible, Filly was a true partner to him. They talked about ideas, discussed possibilities, and enjoyed intelligent conversation.
Removing his clothes and donning his pajama bottom, Luke took one last look in the mirror, giving himself a lecture about staying away from his wife and trying to get some sleep. Dreading the long night ahead, Luke walked out of the bathroom to find Filly perched on one side of the bed.
Before he could go to the closet to retrieve extra blankets and pillows to make a pallet by the fire, Filly cleared her throat and flushed a bright shade of pink when she looked at him, noticing his bare torso. Her glance quickly fell to the hands knotted in her lap.
“Luke, I think…” she stopped and swallowed twice before she could go on. “This bed is big enough for six people to sleep in. If you stay on your side and I stay on mine, there wouldn’t be any reason for you to sleep on the floor and be uncomfortable all night.”
Surprised by her invitation to share the bed, he nodded his head in agreement, too exhausted to argue or worry about what would happen in the morning. He would do his best to stay on his side and keep his hands to himself.
Walking around to her side of the bed, he kissed her cheek and said, “You were perfectly lovely today,” which made her grin.
Turning off the lights, he walked back around the bed and climbed in the other side, which seemed miles away from Filly, where she curled on the edge of the mattress facing the door.
“I don’t think I snore, at least not too loudly. If I do just put a pillow over my head,” Luke said, lying on his back and wondering how he could possibly sleep with Filly’s rosy scent drifting around him.
“I will,” she whispered, then grew still and quiet.
Both of them were afraid to move as they waited, unsleeping and tense, for the other to make a move. It seemed like hours of torture later when Luke was contemplating rolling over and kissing his wife until they both were senseless that he heard Filly’s breathing even out and deepen as she fell asleep. He listened to her inhale and exhale, watching the flames of the fire die down to dark embers, finally drifting to sleep dreaming of his wife.
Chapter Sixteen
Filly awoke from a wonderfully restful sleep in the big, comfortable bed. Rolling onto her back, she pulled her arms from the covers and arched them over her head as she pointed her toes toward the end of the bed and stretched her long legs.
Releasing a contented sigh, she rolled over and looked into a pair of icy blue eyes.
Stifling a shriek, she blinked, realizing it was Luke. Suddenly, their current rooming situation came to the forefront of her mind and she yanked the covers up under her chin. Recalling the way Luke looked last night when he came out of the bathroom wearing only the bottom piece to his pajamas, Filly felt her stomach flutter. The firelight had turned his skin to bronze, his muscles to marble, and her thoughts to what it would be like to truly be his wife.
If she was brave enough, she could easily reach out and touch him this morning. She liked the way his hair pin-wheeled around his head, making him look so young and entirely too loveable.
His smile, though, when he caught her eye, was anything but boyish. Filly caught her breath when she noticed Luke’s bare chest protruding from the covers. It was all she could to do keep from running her hands over one of those magnificent muscles.
Luke watched emotions play across Filly’s face and tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. Some vain part of him hoped his bride would notice his bare chest. The way her cheeks flushed and her eyes were locked on him, he was certain she was taking note.
Had he known how alluring his bride would look first thing in the morning, Luke would have worked harder to get into her bed sooner.
Filly’s hair, having escaped her night braid, was splayed all around her in a jumbled tangle of curls and a crease from the pillowcase highlighted one cheek. With bright eyes, kissable lips and her nightgown sliding down one creamy shoulder, Luke wasn’t sure he had the fortitude to get out of bed without at least spending some time holding her.
“Morning,” Luke whispered, reaching out a thumb and brushing it across her cheek. It felt as soft and velvety as he remembered from his dreams. He breathed in her soft, rose scent.
“Good morning,” Filly said, offering him a shy smile, undone by Luke’s presence in the bed. He was warm, virile and so attractive. Blocking thoughts of how wonderful he looked uncovered from her mind, she tried to think of the day ahead. “How do you want to do this?”
“Do what?” he asked, wondering how she’d react if he pulled her to him and pillaged her lips. Would she slap him if he reached out and stroked her neck or caressed her bare shoulder?
“Get up and ready for the day,” she said, rising on an elbow and looking intently at Luke.
“Up?” Luke asked, so distracted by Filly, he couldn’t think straight. Sliding closer to her, he watched her eyes widen in both fear and excitement.
“Don’t you think we better get up and start breakfast for your parents?” she asked, holding perfectly still, afraid if she moved Luke might… do something she really wanted him to.
“Parents?” Luke said, focused on Filly’s lips. They were calling to him and there was no possible way for him to ignore their plea to be kissed. Putting a hand on either side of Filly’s face, he caressed her lips with a gentle kiss. Feeling her soften against him, Luke put his arms around her, drawing her close.
As their bodies pressed together, Luke thought he would explode from his longing for his bride. She was so soft, sweet and beautiful. Burying his hands in her hair, he placed a hot, moist kiss to the pulse throbbing frantically in her neck. Knowing he was dangerously close to losing control, he kissed her lips quickly then let her go, rolling onto his back away from her. Now was not the time for him to seduce his wife, although from the wild look in her eyes and the way her chest heaved rapidly, he didn’t think he’d have to work too hard at it.
Swiping his hand across his face to block out the sight of her looking so feminine and alluring, he attempted to offer her an encouraging grin. “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll jump into my chore clothes, feed the livestock then get cleaned up. By then, you’ll have breakfast ready and we’ll take it from there.”
“Certainly,” Filly said, still holding the covers up to her chin, looking at Luke hesitantly. “What would be appropriate for me to wear this morning?”
“One of your wool dresses would be fine. I’m partial to that green plaid you seem to like so well,” Luke said with a wink. He tried to hide his smile as Filly attempted to put on her robe while still completely covered by the blankets. “Good grief, Filly girl, just make a run for it. I promise not to look.”
Filly grinned and jumped out of the bed, running into the bathroom and shutting the door. By the time she came out, covered by her wrapper, Luke was long gone. She pulled her clothing from the closet and dressed, then quickly made the bed. Taking a moment to put her mother’s things aro
und the room, she draped the Christmas quilt over a rocking chair under a big window that looked out over the side yard and surrounding pasture.
Hurrying down the back stairs, she was grateful to find Luke had stoked the kitchen stove and already put water on to boil for tea.
Smiling, she donned an apron and whipped up batter for pancakes. While the batter rested, she warmed a large skillet and put bacon on to fry. A second skillet soon held sliced potatoes. Making coffee, she set the pot next to the teakettle and debated on whether to set the dining room table or have everyone eat in the kitchen. If she had to repeat the dining room experience three times a day, it would wear her to a frazzle.
Being practical, she decided to set the kitchen table and if Luke wanted otherwise, he would let her know.
Thinking of Luke brought heat to her cheeks as she ruminated over sharing a bed with him. It went well, considering how much she wanted him to roll over and take her into his arms last night. Goodness only knew what would have happened this morning if they didn’t have pressing responsibilities.
As inexperienced as she was, she was starting to think that Luke might actually care for her. At least a little.
Deciding to think about their relationship later, she removed a pitcher of cream from the ice box and set it on the table along with butter. Stirring up a small pot of syrup, she poured it into a pitcher and was flipping the last pancake when Luke came into the kitchen, dressed in a suit, ready to head to the bank. His golden hair was still damp and fell into deep finger-tempting waves.
Unable to keep from brushing a lock back from his forehead, Filly smiled with her heart in her eyes when Luke captured her hand in his, kissing her palm.
“I, um, hope it’s okay to eat breakfast in here,” Filly said, trying to distract herself from Luke’s handsome face and mesmerizing eyes. “We can move to the dining room if you’d rather.”
“No, in here is fine,” Luke said, nodding his head in approval at the set table. “Mother may balk, but it’s only sensible to eat breakfast and lunch in here. I’d say dinner as well, but mother would really pitch a fit at that.”
“Breakfast is almost ready. Do you think they’ll be in soon?” Filly asked, stepping away from Luke to snatch up the last pancake before it burned. Scooping potatoes into a bowl and draining the grease from the bacon, Filly placed platters on the table and turned to see Greg and Dora walk into the room.
“Good morning,” Greg said cheerfully, giving Filly’s cheek a kiss and patting Luke on the back. “My, what a wonderful breakfast. It smells divine, and I don’t know how I could be hungry after that marvelous dinner.”
“Must you be so theatrical?” Dora asked as she turned her cheek up for Luke to kiss. He obliged while making a funny face at Filly. Hiding her smile by turning to get the coffee pot, she poured two cups of coffee then poured tea for herself and Luke.
After asking his father to say grace, Luke took a drink of his tea.
“What, no coffee for breakfast?” Greg asked, taking a deep swallow of his coffee.
“I much prefer tea,” Luke said, grinning. “Just don’t tell the fellows, or I may never hear the end of it.”
“Right you are,” Greg said, helping himself to a stack of pancakes and generous servings of potatoes and bacon.
“Are you expecting this to be your last meal, dear?” Dora asked, eyeing Greg’s full plate.
“Not at all,” Greg said, pouring syrup on his pancakes and taking a bite. “But I expect to enjoy Filly’s fine cooking while we’re here. After all, when we leave I have to go back to Cook’s horrible offerings.”
“Humph.” Dora was annoyed at Greg’s praise for Luke’s wife. She wanted to hate the girl, find some fault with her, but so far she hadn’t found anything wrong with her. Filly was everything Luke had touted her to be and then some, including a wonderful cook.
The whole thing annoyed Dora tremendously. How was she going to tell her friend that Luke was no longer available when they had made so many plans for their children to wed? Dora was sure if Luke married a society girl from New York, he’d agree to leave the wilds of Oregon and return home where he belonged.
Taking a bite of her pancake, Dora savored the light, fluffy texture and understood why her husband was digging into his like a common laborer. She felt like losing her ladylike manners and eating hers with abandon as well.
“What is on the agenda today?” Greg asked as he helped himself to more bacon, nodding as Filly poured him another cup of coffee.
“I’m going to the bank and thought you might come along and go through the books with me,” Luke said, looking at his father with true admiration. Although being around his mother was a challenge, to put it lightly, Luke thoroughly enjoyed spending time with his dad.
“I’d be happy to, my boy.” Greg looked forward to seeing how well his son was managing things. He knew Luke was an astute businessman in his own right. His ability to buy the Granger house, the surrounding acreage, and the bank proved that point.
“And what will you lovely ladies do to keep occupied today?” Greg asked, taking a bite from another stack of pancakes.
Filly looked at Luke and he nodded his head at her. She knew that meant she was to go about her day as she normally would.
“I’ll be doing some baking this morning, then preparing lunch,” Filly said, knowing that her day sounded mundane. “This afternoon, I thought we could pay a visit to Mrs. Dodd and she could show off baby Erin. She’s only a few weeks old and just the most precious baby.”
“Mrs. Dodd, you say?” Greg asked, looking at Luke with interest. “That wouldn’t be Chauncy’s wife, would it?”
“Indeed,” Luke said with a grin. “Chauncy is now a very proud papa.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Greg said, reaching over and slapping Luke’s back good naturedly. “Maybe next year, you’ll be the proud papa of a new baby.”
Luke thought Filly might choke on the tea that apparently had gone down the wrong pipe. She tried to hide her cough behind her napkin, and did a fairly good job of it, except for her watering eyes. Working hard not to laugh at her, he felt Filly kick his shin under the table.
Spirited. His wife was definitely spirited.
“Won’t that be fun, Dora, to see a new baby. It’s been ages since we’ve been around a baby,” Greg said, finishing up his coffee. “That sister of yours seems more intent on the women’s suffrage movement than on finding a husband. She decided to go traipsing off to Europe with some friends instead of spending Christmas with us. Maybe she’ll meet someone over there who tickles her fancy.”
“Good gracious, Mr. Granger, watch your tongue. Our daughter, by no means, will have her fancy tickled by anyone,” Dora said, prickling with indignation.
Luke rolled his eyes and got up from the table. “Shall we head off to the bank, then, Dad?”
“Yes, by all means,” Greg said, wiping his fingers on a napkin and getting to his feet. “I am most anxious to see how well you’ve been doing since my last visit.”
Retrieving their coats from the front hall, Greg kissed his wife’s cheek and told her to enjoy her morning. Luke kissed his mother’s cheek then shrugged into his coat. Turning to Filly, he tugged her into a hug, which drew a raised eyebrow from his mother. Ignoring her, he kissed Filly’s cheek, bending to whisper in her ear. “You’ll be fine. Just do what you usually do and remember we’ll be back to relieve you at lunch.”
“Enjoy your morning, ladies,” Greg called as he and Luke went out the door.
Turning back to her guest, Filly smiled. “May I pour you another cup of coffee, Mrs. Granger?”
“That would be fine,” Dora said, then drew a circle on the tablecloth with her finger. “Since you are married to my son, I supposed it would be acceptable if you call me Mother Granger.”
Filly nearly dropped the coffee pot at this advance in the war to win over Luke’s mother. “I’d like that very much. Thank you.”
After visiting a few moments about t
he stores in town and what selection was available, Dora decided she would read in the library while Filly did “whatever it is you do in the kitchen, dear.”
Hurrying to finish the breakfast dishes, Filly mixed a batch of sweet bread and set it to rise on the back of the stove. Pulling out a faded recipe that originally belonged to her grandmother, she set about making a batch of caramels. Finishing them, she was making chicken and dumplings for lunch from leftovers in the ice box when Dora strolled into the kitchen.
“Filly, what are you doing in here?” Dora asked taking in the cluttered counter and the smell of sugar and yeast in the air. Although she would rather be dragged through town clad only in her corset than admit it, both the smells and her curiosity drew her to the kitchen.
“Oh, Mother Granger,” Filly said, not hearing Dora come into the room. “I’m just making some treats for Christmas.”
“What sort of treats?” Dora said, setting the book she was reading on the table and coming over to the counter.
“Caramels and fruit bread.”
“Caramels?” Dora asked with interest. Luke hadn’t inherited his sweet tooth from his father. She was the one who craved sugary treats.
“Would you like one?” Filly offered, holding out a plate of the sticky candy.
Taking a bite, Dora couldn’t help from closing her eyes and enjoying the sweet. “That is acceptable.”
Filly hid a grin and went back to her preparations for lunch.
“Is your mother a good cook?” Dora finally asked, when she finished her second caramel. At this rate, she might have to pay Abby to let the seams out of her gowns before they returned home.
“She was,” Filly said, not wanting to reveal too much of her past. “My mother died when I was fourteen.”
Dora looked at her a moment and compassion filled her eyes. “I’m sorry, dear. That must have been dreadful. That is the age when a girl most needs her mother.”
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