Levi (Prairie Grooms, Book Five)

by Morgan, Kit

  Fina's mouth dropped open. “Cousin Imogene? I don't believe it.”

  Levi laughed. “It's my guess that there are a lot of things you don't believe.” She gawked at him, and he raised a single eyebrow to affirm his thought.

  She wasn't about to go for it. “We'd best get back to the house.”

  He lowered his brow and stared at her. “What? You're not going to counter anything I just said?”

  “Of course not, why should I?”

  He put his hands on his hips. “Well, how do you like that? I throw out the perfect opportunity for you to start an argument, and you don't take it.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “That's one point for me, then, Mr. Stone.” She offered him her hand so he could help her up.

  He gave her a mock glare. “Okay, I’ll concede. You’ve gained one point. But the day isn't over yet. In fact, it's barely lunch time, and I'm just dying to know what you're going to make for my midday meal.”

  “Dying, dear sir, may be the operative word. Are you sure you don't want to dine in town?”

  “I'm a brave man, Mrs. Stone. I'll take my chances with you.”

  “Remember those words,” she said and fought against a giggle. “In fact, perhaps I should have them in writing.”

  He laughed, helped her up to the wagon seat, then went around and climbed up himself.

  “You really think your cooking is going to be that bad, eh?”

  He flicked the reins. Fina gripped the seat as the wagon lurched forward. “It will be a surprise for the both of us, I'm sure.”

  “Well, I suppose since we both know you can't cook, no points will be scored until after lunch.”

  “I quite agree.”

  “However, I am looking forward to dessert.”

  “What dessert?”

  He put an arm around her and pulled her close. “You,” he whispered in her ear.

  Heat surged through her as she tried to scoot away, but the beast held her tight against him. “What am I, a pie?”

  “You’re no pie,” he drawled in her ear. “You’re something much sweeter, I'm sure. What say we go home and find out?”

  “Never! I still have eight days to go!”

  He released her with a heavy sigh. “Eight days and counting. How is a man to survive such torture?”

  “Torture? What are you talking about?”

  He looked at her and took a moment to study her face. “You really don't know, do you?”

  She stared at him and shook her head. “Know what?”

  He hunched forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I see you bought some paint,” he said, changing the subject.

  She continued to stare at him. “Yes… but I…”

  “Don't have anything to paint on? I heard Apple say something about Wilfred not having any canvas at the mercantile. Don't worry, I'll go out to the barn and find you something.”

  She sat, as guilt assailed her. Her new husband wanted to make love to her; that much she guessed. But once it started, would it ever stop? As her husband, he had every right to her body, but what if that became all there was even if they were married?

  Fiery passion was fine, but she began to realize she wanted more, and craved the opportunity to dive as deeply into passion as she could; heart, body, and soul. The only problem was, as an innocent, she was terrified.

  He obviously wanted to consummate their marriage now, but she had no intention of doing so until she was sure of one thing. In fact, the more she thought about it, she realized it was the only thing that would make her feel safe about the whole idea. But how could she, when she only had eight days left to make sure she was in love?

  Nine

  Levi had purchased supplies while Fina, Apple, and their cousin were having tea. He then finished up his business with Harrison and now, here they were, back at the house and Fina felt as unsettled as when they'd left Clear Creek. Not only did she feel unsettled, but inadequate as well. It was no secret she couldn't cook, but she couldn't sew either, and so stared painfully at the fabric Levi bought for her. Her eyes gravitated to the container of paint she’d obtained from Wilfred, and a small shred a comfort followed. Painting had always soothed and calmed her, and the sooner she could pick up a brush, the better.

  “I have to say, Fella,” drawled Levi. “Those biscuits were mighty good. I thought you didn't know how to cook.”

  “I'm a quick learner,” she said with a smile, and recalled how fast Grandma had scribbled down her recipe and showed her how to make them in mere minutes.

  “What else can you make?”

  She shrugged. “I'm afraid that's all I have in my arsenal.”

  “That's not enough to win the war, my dear,” he said with a wink.

  “And I'm afraid I'll have to agree with you.” She fingered the container of paint.

  He watched her. “Why don't I go out to the barn and see what I can find for you to play with.”

  “Play? Is that you think painting is? Playing?”

  “I didn't mean it that way… what I meant was…”

  “Have you ever painted?”

  “Well… er… no.”

  “Then don't presume it’s playing,” she told him, her voice more terse than usual.

  Levi’s mouth formed into a firm line. He stood up. “I’ll be in the barn if you need me.” He then turned and left.

  Fina sighed. She'd upset him and shouldn't have spoken to him with such an attitude, but she couldn't help it. When it came to her art, she got very defensive, especially when people belittled it in any way. But had he? How could he know that, to her, painting was a serious business, or that it fueled her very being?

  She looked at the container of paint and realized she'd have to apologize to him. Eventually.

  She stood and gathered up the plates and other dishes they’d used for lunch. A lunch that consisted of biscuits, and butter and jam, but it was better than nothing, and she had

  baked the biscuits herself. Thanks to Grandma Waller and her recipe, that is.

  Once things were put away, she wiped her hands on a dishrag, and then went into the parlor. She stared at the fireplace mantel and pictured red roses and green vines painted across it. Her eyes then wandered to the doorframe, and she could see vibrant yellow flowers with green leaves branching out onto the walls. She then turned to the staircase, and wondered what it would look like if each rail were painted a different color, then changed her mind and envisioned the stairs a bright red. Oh, but she couldn't wait until her supplies from Oregon City came! She would have the prettiest, brightest, most wonderful house in Clear Creek by the time she was done with it.

  She sighed again, this time in satisfaction. She knew her painting would be an outlet for the passion Levi instilled in her, and prayed her supplies would come soon. Though it could be weeks before she saw them, she took comfort in the fact that she had her brushes, a few paints, and the red paint she’d purchased from the mercantile. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to get her through the next eight days; which reminded her, she still hadn't found anything to help her get to know her new husband. She walked back into the kitchen and leaned against the table. Should she continue her search for Levi's diary, or forget about the whole thing? What if he didn't even have one? But then, how was she to know, unless she looked?

  She went to the cupboard, opened it, and then rolled her eyes. “What man hides a diary in a cupboard?” She shut it and turned to the staircase. “I still think it's up there,” she muttered as she made her way across the kitchen. She went upstairs and into the main bedroom. The dresser somehow looked bigger and heavier than it had before, or was it because she knew she couldn't open the one, blasted drawer? If Levi had wanted the book inside, wouldn't he have taken it out when he’d opened it yesterday? Or, perhaps he didn't want her to see what the book was, and so left it in there, knowing she wouldn't be able to get it.

  Fina stood before the dresser, hands on hips and, with a determined gleam in her eye, grabbed
the knobs of the mystery drawer. She pulled, she yanked, she fell on her rump three times, and still it wouldn’t budge.

  She sat on the floor and shook her fist at it. “Oh bother, I give up! I doubt you'd open if an elephant sat on you!”

  She got up from the floor, crossed the bedroom to the window, and began to pace.

  “What a fool I am. I might as well face facts. I don't know the man, and he's going to win, and then I'll have to…” she stopped her rant as her eyes fixed on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “Oh my; I'd quite forgotten about you.” She listened intently for a moment. Silence. She quickly went to the door and closed it, then tiptoed to the trunk. She didn't see a key in the lock and prayed it would open. Much to her delight, it did; and with ease, at that.

  Fina settled on her knees in front of it, and began to examine the contents. A suit of clothes was neatly folded and sat on top of several boxes. She carefully removed it. “Why, Mr. Stone,” she said in a soft voice as she touched the finery. “You've been holding out on me.” The suit was not the one he’d worn for their wedding. It was better made and the tailor had obviously known what he was doing. Levi must've worn it in Boston and perhaps used it for special occasions. Hmmm, she mused. Like their wedding wasn’t? She carefully set it aside and examined the trunk’s other items. There was a hatbox containing a hat to match the suit, along with a pair of gloves. “You really have been holding out on me,” she whispered, and then put the hat and gloves back into their boxes. She discovered cufflinks, shoes, and various other articles of clothing a gentleman would wear, and tried to envision Levi adorned in such finery. It was then that something caught her eye. She reached down and removed another box, not bothering to open it, and stared at what lay underneath. Though it wasn't the book or diary she was hoping to find, it was, of course, still of interest. The jewelry box had tiny blue flowers that had to have been painted on with great care. The sight beckoned her. Fina glanced over her shoulder at the door before she licked her lips and turned back to the trunk. Had it been his mother’s? Or perhaps he’d purchased it for a woman he’d once courted? Jealousy pricked her heart at the thought, but she quickly pushed it aside, reached in, and took out the box. “My, but you're a pretty one, aren't you?” There was a tiny key inserted in a miniscule lock. Fina turned the key, heard an audible click, and opened the jewelry box. “Good Lord!”

  “Fella?” Levi called up the stairwell

  “Oh, my goodness!” Fina slammed the lid shut, turned the key, and put the box back as fast as she was able, and then everything else she’d removed from the trunk. She slammed the lid shut and stood, just as Levi opened the door. She turned and planted herself on the very thing she'd just invaded, and forced a smile.

  “Looking in my trunk, were you?” he asked in a casual tone.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

  “Because you sat on it as soon as I walked in, and you got the same look on your face you did when you were fighting with the dresser. I assume my trunk didn't put you through any trouble?”

  “No, of course not. But there's no room for my things in there, either.”

  “I could have told you that. Sorry, I forgot.”

  Fina put her hands in her lap and clasped them hard enough for her knuckles to turn white. “Whatever am I going to do?”

  “Your clothes are in a trunk now, aren't they?”

  “Of course, how else was I to transport them here?”

  “Well then, I’d say your trunk is good enough until the armoire arrives.”

  “You're right, of course,” she said as she cringed. “How silly of me.”

  He studied her, closely. Then, to her utter horror, marched toward her.

  Her breathing picked up. Did he perceive she’d lied to him? She was looking in his trunk, but…”

  “Hold still,” he said in a stern voice.

  “What … whatever for?” she stammered.

  He reached up and flicked something from her hair.

  “What was that?”

  “Spider.”

  “Spider?!” She stood and spun in a complete circle. “Where is it?”

  “Don't worry; it’s just a little thing. I didn’t want it crawling onto your face.” He walked to the other side of the bed and studied the floor. “I think it landed over here somewhere.”

  “Oh my heavens, I do hope you find it!” she said, her voice tinged with panic.

  “Why? Are you afraid of spiders?”

  “What woman isn't? Though I tolerate them, I'm not very fond of them.”

  “Well now, that doesn't make any sense. Either you are, or you are not, afraid of them.”

  “I said I tolerate them, but I'm not fond of them. I never used the word afraid.”

  “So, you're not afraid of them?”

  She narrowed her eyes and blew some hair out of her face. “You're doing it to me, again. You're trying to get information out of me, aren’t you?”

  “Is it working?” he asked in delight.

  “Oh! Why you ...” Rather than finish, she spun on her heel and headed for the door.

  “I found something for you to paint on, in case you're interested,” he called after her.

  She turned and looked at him from the stair landing. “Good! I shall start immediately!” She spun on her heel again.

  “There really wasn't a spider,” he yelled as she stomped down the stairs.

  “I gathered there wasn't!” she yelled back, “which means I've gained another point for the day!”

  Levi's shoulders slumped. “Confound it,” he muttered to himself. “The day's not over!”

  “Excellent!” she called back up the stairs. “That means I have more time to catch up!”

  “I wish you luck, since I’m still ahead by several points!”

  Silence.

  Ha! That got her! He was about to leave the bedroom when he looked at the trunk. He stared at it a moment before he went to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Sorting through his socks, he found the pair he wanted, unfolded them, and then reached into one and pulled out a key. Levi then went to the trunk and locked it.

  * * *

  Levi had said very little since he’d walked into the bedroom and found her sitting on his trunk. She debated on whether or not to ask him about what she’d found, then thought better of it. Such a thing might only lead to trouble, and she certainly didn't want any of that. She watched him closely as he made them fried eggs for dinner and then whipped up some gravy to go with the leftover biscuits from lunch. “Who taught you how to cook?” she asked, and hoped her voice sounded steady and even.

  “If you must know, my mother taught me.”

  Her brows rose in question. “Your mother? Since when does a man learn how to cook from his mother? I thought all men were resigned to the fact that cooking was strictly women’s work.”

  “My mother was very wise, and taught not only me, but my brothers, as well.”

  “You have brothers?”

  He turned to her and, skillet in hand, joined her at the table. “Does it surprise you that I have brothers? That the world has been blessed with more than one man with the last name of Stone?”

  “Hardly,” she said with a smile. “Stone isn’t that uncommon a name. But you haven't mentioned any brothers until now.”

  “No, I haven’t. But don't think you get a point for finding out.”

  “I wouldn't dream of it.”

  He dished up their eggs, set the pan on the stove, and brought a small dish of gravy to the table and set it down. He sat and watched her, then cleared his throat when she didn't bow her head for the blessing, and smiled. “Would you like to pray over the food?” he asked.

  “Me? Say the blessing?”

  “Don’t people pray a blessing over their food in England?”

  “Well of course we pray; it's just that…”

  He leaned toward her with a smile. “What? Tell me, Mrs. Stone, what?”


  She straightened. “Will you stop being silly? I was about to tell you that my father always said the blessing.”

  He sat back in his chair. “I see. Is it your opinion, then, that a woman shouldn't pray at this dinner table?”

  “Anyone can pray, I suppose. It's just that my father was always the one to do it.”

  “So, you’re used to a man doing certain… things?”

  “I… I suppose so,” she stammered. He was up to something, she could tell.

  “So then, you're used to a man taking the lead in certain things?”

  She swallowed hard. He was trying to back her into some kind of corner, and she knew it! “Just as you're used to having a woman take the lead in other things, is my guess.”

  He looked her up and down, and smiled. “Some things; but not all. Would you like some gravy?”

  “Aren’t you going to say the blessing?”

  He looked her over again. “My dear Mrs. Stone, you are the blessing.”

  Fina swallowed, blushed, and clasped her hands before her. “Dear Lord, may you bless this food and those about to partake of it, amen.”

  Levi smiled. “Short and to the point.”

  She gave him a weak smile in return, and reached for a biscuit. “Are you going to tell me about your brothers?”

  He opened a biscuit up, put it on his plate, and poured gravy over it. “In due time, my dear. But tell me, did you find out anything interesting about me today?”

  Fina froze, a biscuit halfway to her mouth. What did he mean? Had he realized she'd found his…

  “What's the matter, beautiful? Can’t speak?”

  She set down her biscuit. “I’ve found you love to tease me, and that you're incorrigible.”

  He smiled again. “That I am. What else?”

  Her heart thumped in her chest loud enough that she wondered if he could hear it. What would he do if he knew she'd found the jewelry box and discovered what was inside? “You make very good eggs,” she blurted.

  He looked at her plate. “How can you say that, when you haven’t even tried them?”

  She picked up her fork, cut off a piece of the white, and popped it into her mouth. “Very good,” she said, her mouth full. “As I knew they would be.”