Short Straw Bride (Harlequin Historical)

by Dallas Schulze

  “Here,” Luke said flatly. “In my house, in my bed, with my wife.” He shrugged out of his shirt as he spoke, tossing the garment over the arm of the rocker as he walked toward the bed.

  The sight of his bare chest stirred something in the pit of Eleanor’s stomach, an emotion she preferred not to acknowledge. She was still angry with him. How dare he think he could just waltz back in here and…and do whatever it was he thought he was going to do.

  “Fine,” she snapped, throwing back the covers. “You stay here. I’ll sleep somewhere else.”

  “No, you won’t.” Luke set one knee on the bed and leaned across it, circling her upper arm with the fingers of one hand, effectively preventing her escape. “You’re staying right here.”

  “I won’t!” She tried to jerk away but there was no breaking the gentle implacability of his hold.

  “You’re going to stay here. In this bed. With me.”

  There was nothing in the least threatening in his tone, but neither was there an inch of give. Looking at him, Eleanor saw that he’d reached the end of his patience. The game they’d been playing was finished. She didn’t have to worry anymore about how to end the stalemate between them. There would be no more nights spent alone. If there was a certain relief in the thought, she certainly wasn’t going to admit it to him.

  “You’ll have to force me.” She threw the words down between them like a duelist throwing down a glove.

  “I don’t think so.” Luke slid his hand down her arm, the gesture caressing even as it held her prisoner. His thumb stroked lightly over the inside of her wrist, and her pulse jumped in response. Against her will Eleanor’s eyes drifted to the broad muscles of his chest and shoulders. There was a fluttering sensation low in her belly, an almost painful awareness of his masculinity—a hunger she refused to acknowledge.

  “I think you’ve missed having me in our bed,” he whispered. His hand slipped back up her arm, tugging her closer as he leaned toward her, closing the distance between them. “I don’t think you want to sleep alone anymore.”

  “I haven’t missed you,” she lied, trying not to notice the way his hair fell onto his forehead in a heavy black wave. “I like sleeping alone.”

  “I don’t.” Without releasing her, Luke shifted until he knelt on the bed. Taking hold of her shoulders, he dragged her up until she knelt in front of him. “I’m not going to sleep in the barn anymore, Eleanor.”

  “I never told you to sleep in the barn.” His fingers were busy loosening the heavy braid of her hair, and she ducked her head away but it was a halfhearted effort at best. The truth was, she was tired of the distance between them, tired of fighting her own desires. “You could have slept in another room in the house.”

  “No, I couldn’t.” Luke speared his hands through her hair, spreading it over her shoulders in a thick brown cape. The way he looked at her made Eleanor feel as if her bones were dissolving. He was no longer holding her captive, but he didn’t have to—the hunger in his eyes was as effective as a shackle. “I couldn’t be in the same house with you and not hold you.”

  Eleanor felt mesmerized by the smoky gray of his eyes, by the hunger he didn’t trouble to hide. There was something very seductive about being the object of his desire. She felt her determination to resist him weakening.

  “Aren’t you going to try and buy me with another piece of fabric or maybe a pair of shoes?” she asked, but she couldn’t seem to call up her earlier outrage.

  “No more presents,” Luke said, refusing to rise to the bait she’d offered. He set his thumb against the pulse that beat at the base of her throat. “No more talk. No more separate beds. We’re married. From now on, we’re going to act like it.”

  “I won’t—”

  “Yes, you will.” Luke dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, stilling her automatic protest. And that’s exactly what it was, she realized when he lifted his head. She didn’t really want to argue with him. They’d argued enough—more than enough. She was tired of being at odds with him, tired of pretending she didn’t ache to be in his arms again.

  Perhaps Luke read something of what she was thinking because his grip on her gentled subtly. His fingers shifted on her arms, his touch caressing rather than holding her captive. Eleanor felt a shiver work its way up her spine. She lifted her hands to his chest, threading her fingers through the crisp dark curls there. His skin was warm to the touch. She’d missed having his heat next to her in bed, missed the feel of his arms wrapped around her late at night.

  She looked up at him, searching his eyes for answers to questions she couldn’t put into words. She wanted, desperately, to know if he cared for her, if he thought of her as more than a mother for the sons who’d inherit this ranch, if he regretted drawing the short straw.

  “Where did you go?” was the only question she risked.

  “I rode into town and went to the Golden Lady,” he admitted without hesitation. “I figured I’d get blind drunk.”

  “You seem sober enough,” she said stiffly.

  “I am.” He slid one hand into her hair. The thick sable length draped over his forearm and fell to her hips. He shifted his gaze away from it, his eyes meeting hers. “I also thought about finding myself some female companionship.”

  Eleanor stiffened as if she’d been shot, her entire body going rigid. Pain arced through her with the speed and force of a lightning bolt. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d feared? She’d thought of the possibility, but thinking of it hadn’t prepared her to deal with the reality of it. She would have wrenched herself away from him but Luke anticipated her reaction. His palm suddenly flattened against the small of her back, dragging her forward until her breasts pressed against the hard wall of his chest.

  “I said I thought about it,” he said sharply. “After drinking one whiskey, I realized that the only woman I wanted was the one I married.”

  All the stiffness drained from Eleanor’s spine as she registered what he was saying. He wanted her. It wasn’t the same as love, but it was something. Wanting could surely turn into love. Couldn’t it?

  “Luke.”

  It was surrender and they both knew it.

  “Ellie.” The diminutive was a caress.

  His hand slid up her back, his fingers cupping the back of her head, turning her face up for his kiss. Eleanor melted into his embrace, surrendering to her own desires, giving in to the need that was a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach.

  She felt as if, in a sense, this was their real wedding night. This first time that they came together without secrets between them. Unless you wanted to count as a secret the fact that she had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with her husband.

  Chapter Sixteen

  For most of the country the Fourth of July was celebrated with picnics, parades, fireworks, music and speeches. Black Dog was no exception. Though the town didn’t boast anything as elegant as a village green, there was a vacant lot behind the mercantile that was shaded by a pair of ancient cottonwoods. There was room enough to set up a small stage for the benefit of those who felt it necessary to make patriotic speeches. Ned Lewis could bow a lively tune on the fiddle and Billy Lee Beaverton could make a harmonica just about sit up and do tricks. It wasn’t the sort of band you might find back east but it was plenty for dancing. There was horse racing with a good bit of betting on the outcome.

  And of course, there was food. The women of the town spent the days prior to the Fourth cooking in preparation for the event. Kitchens already warm with the heat of summer grew warmer still from the frenzy of cooking. Chickens were fried, cakes and pies were baked. A pit was dug near the blacksmith shop and Bar-M-Bar beef was roasted over a slow fire, the smell of it drifting through the town.

  If patriotism could be measured by the fervor with which this most patriotic of holidays was celebrated, then the citizens of Black Dog deserved to be counted as a highly patriotic bunch.

  “Looks like half the country decided to come watch me win the race.” Daniel slanted
his brother a look of friendly challenge as he spoke.

  “More likely they’re hoping to see a repeat of last year when you got thrown into the horse tank in front of the livery,” Luke said. “Now, that was worth coming a bit of distance to see.”

  “It wasn’t all that interesting.” Daniel’s tone was repressive.

  “I didn’t see it myself, but I heard one or two people say that it was the highlight of the race,” Letty chimed in helpfully.

  “I didn’t see it, either,” Eleanor said. “But I do recall Uncle Zeb mentioning the incident.”

  “That horse was dumb as a post,” Daniel said defensively. He had the harried look of a man backed into a corner. “She was always trying to throw me into a wall or grab hold of the bit so she could run me off a cliff.”

  “Maybe she didn’t like you,” Luke suggested with friendly malice.

  “I understand horses can be very particular about their riders,” Eleanor said, looking solemn.

  “I’ve heard that, too,” Letty agreed.

  Daniel gathered his dignity about him in an almost visible cloak. “Did it occur to any of you that I landed in that horse trough deliberately, in order to provide entertainment for everyone?”

  His companions considered this idea. The three of them exchanged a glance, silently confirming their agreement. Three voices spoke as one.

  “No.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened in indignation. Before he could say anything, Eleanor and Letty dissolved in laughter. Luke gave his brother a grin.

  “You might as well face it, little brother. You don’t have a snowball’s chance of winning this race. I’m going to win it this year, same as last. About the only contest you’re likely to win is the pie eating contest. Although, now that I think about it, I hear Harvey Rutherford’s youngest boy has been practicing all year. You might have some real competition there.”

  “We’ll see who’s laughing when I win the race.”

  “Last year your horse got the best laugh.”

  Luke’s dry comment provoked more laughter from the two women and even drew a quick, involuntary smile from Daniel.

  “We’ll see,” he said.

  “I guess we will.”

  “Maybe we should change the subject,” Letty suggested, and earned a grateful look from Daniel.

  “Let’s go see how the beef is coming along,” Luke said. “I’m going to be real hungry after I win the race.”

  The four of them angled their steps toward the blacksmith’s. Even if they hadn’t known where the cooking pit had been dug, they could have followed their noses to find it. As they stepped off the boardwalk and into the street, Daniel courteously offered his hand to Letty. But Eleanor didn’t think it was courtesy that made him tuck Letty’s hand into the crook of his arm. She saw color tint her friend’s cheeks but she didn’t pull away from his hold.

  The small gesture added an extra fillip of pleasure to an already nearly perfect day. It would be so wonderful if Letty married Daniel. It might be too soon to start planning a wedding but there was certainly a strong attraction between the two of them, and the fact that Letty had agreed to attend the picnic in Daniel’s company was very significant. In the years since she’d moved to Black Dog she’d steadfastly refused to be seen keeping company with any man. As a widow, her reputation was too fragile to risk. Yet, here she was, in broad daylight, walking where anyone could see them, with her hand on Daniel’s arm.

  If Letty married Daniel, life would be practically perfect. Eleanor turned her head to look up at Luke, thinking wistfully that true perfection would be possible only if she knew that Luke loved her. As if sensing her gaze, Luke glanced down at her, his eyes meeting hers. He smiled and Eleanor’s heart thumped.

  She wondered how it was possible that she hadn’t realized sooner that she loved him. Looking back, she thought she might have fallen in love with him that day in the churchyard when Reverend Mulligan had introduced them. Certainly she must have been in love with him when she agreed to marry him. Or maybe she’d fallen in love the first time he made love to her with such tender care. It could even have been when he’d agreed to their sleeping apart for a time. It was impossible to pinpoint the moment, Eleanor admitted. It felt as if she’d loved him forever.

  This past week had served to strengthen those feelings. She didn’t think it was her imagination that there was a new warmth between them, a new understanding. There had been no reference to their quarrel. The grenadine had been neatly folded and placed in the bottom of Eleanor’s sewing basket. It was too heavy to wear for summer but, come fall, she planned to make it up into the most beautiful gown she ever hoped to own.

  “Watch your step,” Luke said as they reached the boardwalk on the opposite side of the street. He’d had one hand set against the small of her back but now he took her elbow as she stepped up onto the boardwalk.

  “Thank you.” Eleanor smiled up at him. One lesson life had taught her was that happiness generally came from accepting what you had, rather than wishing for the moon. If Luke didn’t love her, he at least cared for her. She could be content with that.

  Luke wondered if it was possible that Eleanor was growing prettier by the day. Looking at her now, it didn’t seem possible that this was the same girl he’d met after church all those weeks ago. He’d thought she was a quiet little thing, almost mousy. And he’d thought she might make him a biddable bride, not prone to fits of temper. Remembering, his smile took on a rueful edge. He’d certainly gotten a surprise there. In retrospect, he could see that the kind of woman he’d thought he wanted wouldn’t have suited him at all. In fact, he couldn’t imagine any woman who’d suit him half as well. He liked her spirit, liked the strength that fired it. The docile bride he’d set out to find would have bored him silly. He’d enjoyed watching Eleanor whip the hands into shape. And if that spirit and strength came with a temper to match, so be it. At least life would never be dull.

  Even the time spent sleeping in the barn didn’t seem so bad—at least, not in retrospect. He’d certainly enjoyed making up for lost time this past week, he thought. And he didn’t doubt that Eleanor had enjoyed it, too. Looking at her now, in her prim buttercup yellow gown with her hair caught up in a neat twist, it was hard to believe that a few short hours ago she’d been a more than willing participant in their lovemaking.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes questioning, and Luke realized he was standing in the middle of the boardwalk, staring at her.

  “I was just noticing that you look very pretty today,” he said. It was a partial truth. This certainly wasn’t the place to tell her exactly what he’d been thinking.

  “Thank you.” Eleanor flushed with pleasure. She reached up to adjust her hat in a self-conscious gesture, unwittingly drawing Luke’s attention to the one false note in her appearance. She was wearing that god-awful hat again. She must like the blasted thing, since she wore it so often. If he could figure a way to get it off her head today, he was going to have to see if he could get his horse to step on it.

  Luke filed the thought away for consideration as he set his hand against the small of her back, urging her down the walkway to where Daniel and Letty were waiting. He ignored the knowing look in his brother’s eyes. If he read the signs right, it wouldn’t be long before Daniel fell into the parson’s mousetrap himself. They’d see how smug he looked then.

  In years past, Eleanor had never paid much attention to the horse race. She’d never seen much appeal in a bunch of grown men riding hell-forleather down the middle of the street. The fact that the winner received a twenty-dollar gold piece didn’t really seem reason enough for all the fuss everyone made about it. But this year was different. This year Luke was riding in the race. Of course, he’d ridden in it every Fourth of July for the past six years, but this was the first year he’d been her husband. Which was why she found herself standing on the edge of the boardwalk in front of Webb’s waiting to hear the opening shot that would announce the beginning of the race.

>   Both sides of the street were crowded with spectators. Friendly wagers were still being placed. She’d overheard more than one man comment that Luke’s gray couldn’t be beat, which gave her a proprietary feeling of pride.

  “You don’t think Daniel will get thrown again, do you?” Letty sounded worried.

  “I think his horse is the only one who could answer that.” Eleanor glanced sideways at her friend. “You and Daniel seem to be getting very friendly.”

  She didn’t worry about being overheard, despite the people around them. Everyone was involved in their own conversations and there was a certain privacy in being in the middle of a crowd.

  Letty flushed. “He’s…rather pleasant when one gets to know him,” she said primly.

  “Daniel could charm the stripes off a skunk,” Eleanor summed up.

  “Yes.” There was a rueful edge to Letty’s smile. “He certainly could. I just wish I could be sure there was something a little more substantial under his charm.”

  “I think he’s quite smitten with you. Didn’t he ask to carry your handkerchief in the race?”

  Letty’s blush deepened to an attractive shade of rose but when she spoke her tone was firmly pragmatic. “I doubt I’m the first woman to have her hanky carried in Daniel McLain’s pocket. For all I know, he’s asked half a dozen other girls for the same favor this very year.”

  “That would make quite a lump in his pocket, don’t you think?” Eleanor asked teasingly. “You might as well admit it, Letty, Daniel is courting you, whether you like it or not.”

  Letty’s pretty features grew wistful. “What worries me is that I like it very much.”

  They were interrupted before Eleanor could respond. “How lovely to see you, cousin.”

  Eleanor stiffened at the sound of Anabel’s voice. She hadn’t seen her cousin since her wedding day, but her luck had apparently run out. Forcing a pleasant smile, she turned to face the girl.