Jane nodded. “Crockett insisted I get a new dress. He even went with me to pick out the fabric.”
The boys spoke of previous Christmas Eve dances. Bowie had hated the dances as a youngster, mostly because he was so tall and lanky and ungraceful, tripping over his feet. By the time he’d grown into his legs and arms, he was a passable dancer, thanks to his mother’s patient teaching. He’d never be as smooth as Hays or Austin, but he could get by without disgracing himself. Not that he’d ever go to a town dance again.
Elise came to stand beside Bowie’s chair. She bent down and whispered in his ear, “A Christmas Eve Ball? It sounds like so much fun, and a good cause. Should I order a new dress? Will you need a new suit?”
He shook his head. “Get a dress if you want, but don’t get new clothes for me. I won’t be going.” When was she going to realize that he didn’t go to balls or church or shopping? He felt bad having to refuse her, but nobody would thank her for dragging his ugly carcass to a town function. “Someone from the family will get you there and back.”
Her lips tightened, and she blinked. Tears? He felt lower than an earthworm’s belly, but confound it, she knew better than to think he’d go parading into town. He looked away from the hurt in her eyes.
“What are you going to wear, Elise?” Annie called from across the room. “There’s still time to get a gown made. That shade of blue is lovely on you, but I think you would look fabulous in red.”
Elise left his side and returned to her chair by the fire. “I won’t be attending the ball, but I hope you all have a lovely time and raise lots of money for the cause.” She held up her hands as protests began. “I’ve decided to steer clear of Hartville. I find I much prefer to keep to the ranch.”
Though they tried to get her to change her mind, she remained adamant. Bowie said nothing, but he simmered. Even Pa, who woke in the midst of the debate, couldn’t budge her from the notion of staying home from the biggest social event of the year.
The minute all this company was gone, Bowie would get to the bottom of things.
Elise knew she was in for a battle, judging from the hard look in Bowie’s eye, but she welcomed it. She was heartily sick of pretending she didn’t love him, blast his stubborn hide. She was tired of being alone in her marriage. And she was tired of her husband acting as if he were some sort of pariah, even in his own family. As she said good night to their guests, she braced for the conflict.
Returning to the parlor, she found him leaning against the mantel, arms crossed, a scowl on his face.
“What’s the idea of not going to the Christmas Eve Ball? And not going into Hartville? You have no reason to cut yourself off from town. You should go to the dance.” His eye burned hotly, his face hard as he fired the first salvo.
“So should you,” she shot back. “It’s perfectly ridiculous that you hide out here, and I’m tired of it. Do you know how difficult it is for me to go to town alone? Or to sit in church by myself? As for a town dance … with all your family in attendance except you? Do you have any idea how humiliating that would be for me to be the only Hart woman there without her husband?” Folding her arms, she glared at him. “Well, I’m not going to do it any longer. If you won’t go to town, then neither will I.”
He paused, as if he hadn’t thought of how difficult it might be for her to show up to social engagements alone. “You have my whole family at these shindigs. You aren’t alone.”
“Oh, right. And just which couple should I attach myself to? I have no desire to play gooseberry to your brothers and their wives.”
“What do you want from me? I told you from the beginning that I didn’t go into town. Now you’re mad because I won’t go?” Bowie paced the area in front of the fireplace, eating up the distance with his long strides. Frustration flowed from every line of his body, his muscles taut under the crisp white shirt she’d pressed so carefully earlier that day. But she was frustrated, too, and she found it all spilling out.
“When you first came into the factory and saved me from a miserable existence, I thought you were the answer to my prayers, that I had finally found someone who would care for me and that I could share a life with, but you don’t want that, do you? You’ve walled yourself up in your fortress of pride and shame. You’ve cut yourself off from life, your family, and most of all, you’ve cut yourself off from me.”
To her mortification, tears welled in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but they tumbled down her cheeks, breaking the dam she’d formed and releasing her carefully restrained emotions.
At first, Bowie looked horrified at her tears, and then he threw up his hands. “I never pretended to be anything other than what I am. I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve followed the absolute letter of our agreement. I gave you my name, my protection, a place to live. You’ve got money now and social standing as a Hart, for what that’s worth.” He jammed his fingers into his hair. “I knew this marriage was a mistake. I should’ve just kept on riding when I left the 7 Heart. It sure didn’t take long for you to regret marrying me. I never lied to you about what I was proposing.”
Elise bowed her head. He was right. He hadn’t changed the rules. She tried to explain herself.
“At first, it was enough. I thought that I could do it, that a paper marriage, a platonic relationship would be enough for me. But it isn’t. Not when I see how much you have to give, how happy we could be.”
When he forgot to be ashamed or bitter, when they were flying across the prairie together on his horse, when he held her in his arms and kissed her senseless and she got a glimpse of how it might be between them, it broke her heart.
He was so bewildered, and she couldn’t miss the hurt and confusion on his face.
“Right now this marriage feels like a prison, only it’s not me behind bars, it’s you. You’ve locked yourself away, hoarding your love and affection, and you’ve lumped me in with all the people you think might hurt you. I don’t know if I can go on in a loveless marriage. I need more.”
“I don’t have any more to give.”
“Then where does that leave us?” Her heart broke anew, more painful than anything she’d encountered before.
He had no answer, and neither did she.
“I want you to go to the dance. It would embarrass my family if you weren’t there.”
“And there’s nothing I can do or say to change your mind about going?”
“No. I’ve told you before. I don’t go into town.”
Shoulders sagging, she sighed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You have been nothing but honest with me about your feelings. I’m sorry I overstepped. It won’t happen again.”
She lifted her hem and went upstairs to her bedroom, pausing on the landing to look into his room across the hall. The room she had thought might become a nursery one day, but now stood for all that was wrong in her marriage. Her efforts to get her husband to love her had come to nothing. The rest of her life stretched out before her, lonely and unfulfilled.
And she had nobody to blame but herself … and her stubborn husband.
Bowie tightened the girth on his saddle. “Easy, boy.” The green colt he was training sidled and stomped his back foot. “There, that’s not too bad.” He untied the lead line from the corral fence and began a slow circuit with the bright chestnut, letting him get used to the feel of the saddle.
“He’s coming along nicely. Think he’s got any cow sense?”
Bowie halted, turning as Austin dismounted and tied his horse to the fence. “Too soon to tell. You never know about a horse’s cow sense until you ask him the question, but he’s got a good disposition. Calm and kind so far.”
Austin raised the collar on his coat as a chilly wind blew, whipping up a cloud of corral dust. He crossed his arms on the top rail and rested his chin on his wrists. “I was hoping for a little snow for Christmas. It would make tonight’s Christmas Eve Ball special.”
“We almost never get snow this f
ar south. You come for something specific, or just want to talk about the weather?” Bowie led the colt around one more circuit, stopping in front of his older brother.
“You know me pretty well.” Austin smiled. “I had something on my mind.”
“You usually do.”
“Actually, I came to talk to you about Elise.”
Bowie’s muscles went taut. “What about her?”
“Rebekah tells me she’s going to the dance tonight after all. The girls all met up at Miss Spanner’s for dress fittings and such, and Elise was there.”
“That’s right.” Not that he got much satisfaction out of it. Elise had been so quiet and withdrawn since Thanksgiving night, it was like someone had snuffed a candle flame and left the house dark. She didn’t even want any more riding lessons.
“But you’re still not going?”
“Nope.” Bowie loosened the cinch. His temper was frayed. Not a good frame of mind for training colts.
“You’re an idiot.” Austin said it like it was a commonly held fact.
Bowie jerked the saddle off. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re an idiot. It’s one thing for you to cut yourself off from town, and another to hold your family at arm’s length, but why push Elise away? You do realize what a gem you have there, right? She’s beautiful and kind and sweet and giving. Meanwhile, you’re shutting her out of your life like a cutting horse keeping a calf out of the herd.”
“Of course I know what a gem she is. I married her, didn’t I?” Grabbing a currycomb, he started in on the colt, his movements brisk. Who did Austin think he was, barging in here and poking his nose in where it didn’t belong?
Austin waited, a favorite tactic of his. Well, it wouldn’t work this time. Bowie wasn’t about to spill his guts to his brother and admit what a failure he was.
“I married her so I could get my inheritance. We have a paper marriage, not a real one. A marriage of convenience.” The words were out before he could stop them. Great. It had worked. Even when he knew what Austin was doing, he still fell for it. Yet, it felt good to unburden to someone.
“You mean you’ve never …?” Austin stopped, his eyes wide. “No wonder you’re so surly.”
“I’m not surly,” Bowie snapped. “The whole thing has been a colossal mistake. I should’ve just gotten on my horse and kept on riding when Pa came up with this stupid plan. I should’ve known I couldn’t be a good husband, not even on paper. If I had an ounce of sense, I’d head to town right now and have Harley Burton start work on annulment papers before I ruin Elise’s life forever.” He threw the currycomb into the box with force. “Nobody could be happy married to a freak like me.”
“Don’t you think ten years and more is enough time to feel sorry for yourself?” Austin reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a toothpick, jamming it into the corner of his mouth, his expression bland.
“What are you talking about?” Bowie slipped the halter off the colt and vaulted over the fence. He planted his hands on his hips. He hated it when Austin acted superior, like he knew everything.
“So you were wounded. So you have some scars. So what? I’d wager Elise doesn’t even see them when she looks at you. I got shot, too, if you’ll remember, and I have some nasty scars, but Rebekah doesn’t care. She says they are marks of courage, not cowardice. So you were captured and spent time in a Yankee prison. Big deal. You weren’t the only one in Elmira, were you? Were all those men failures? It’s beyond time that you got over yourself. You’ve held on to your bitterness for too long, and you’ve made it an excuse to push people away.” Austin shifted the toothpick in his mouth, staring at Bowie, his face hard, but not without compassion. “We love you, Bowie. You’re our brother and the equal of any of us, and that’s a fact, scars and surly disposition and all. Elise loves you, too, and it’s tearing her apart.”
A tremor went through Bowie, and it felt as if someone was scouring out his lungs with sandpaper. “You think she loves me?”
“Even a one-eyed man should be able to see that. She lights right up when you come into the room, and when she talks about you, I feel as if we should all bow before your royal highness. And don’t even pretend that you don’t love her. You care about her so much it’s eating you alive. You want her so bad, it’s like you’re running a fever. She’s the first thing you think of when you wake up and the last thing you think of before you go to sleep, and pretty much everything you think about in between. You’d do about anything to see her smile. And you’re scared stiff that she doesn’t feel the same about you.”
Bowie sagged against the corral fence. “How do you know all this?”
Austin grinned. “Because I’m in love with my wife. I recognize the symptoms.”
“I do love Elise.” Saying it out loud terrified him worse than facing a Union charge. “But it’s too late. I’ve ruined things with her. She’ll never love me now, and it isn’t about the scars.” Bowie waved toward his face. “No, it’s because she’s found out the secret that I am an idiot.”
“That’s not a secret.” Austin clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve known it for years. But, it’s time for you to decide what you really want. If it’s Elise, then you have to let go of the past. You’re going to have to drop the armor and let yourself be vulnerable. You’re going to have to trust Elise with your heart. If not, you’re relegating both of you to a miserable existence, and yes, you should start the annulment proceedings, because Elise deserves better. What you need to realize is that you do, too.”
Chapter Seven
Austin helped Rebekah with her coat before turning to assist Elise with her cloak. Elise thanked him, smoothing the polonaise of her gown.
“Annie was right, red suits you beautifully.” Rebekah checked her hair in the cloakroom mirror. Music drifted down from the ballroom on the third floor. Her own gown of ivory satin complemented her rose-petal complexion and brought out the blue in her eyes. Austin offered her his arm, grinning down at her with pride.
“I’ll be the envy of everyone at the party tonight with two such pretty ladies to escort.” He offered his other arm to Elise, who took it, wishing she was at home in her room.
Still, she had no right to dim everyone else’s pleasure, so she put on a smile and allowed Austin to lead her upstairs.
Miss Spanner had done wonders. Garlands of ivy and mistletoe hung from every post, and the chandelier dripped with red bows and greenery.
Miss Spanner herself, resplendent in purple satin trimmed with black velvet, beamed, clutching the arm of Harley P. Burton, who had his hair slicked down and his best checked suit on. He looked bewildered, half-proud, half-terrified.
“She caught him at last,” Austin leaned in to whisper. “At least for this dance. He looks like he can’t decide whether to brag or bolt.”
The musicians began a reel, and couples lined up. Each Hart brother led his bride out onto the dance floor, with the exception of Hays and Emma. Emma sat along the wall, her hand resting on her pregnant belly, and Hays brought her a cup of punch. Emma accepted it, then nodded Elise’s way.
Hays walked over, a friendly smile on his face. “Would you care to dance? Emma can’t dance right now, and I’m itching to get out there.” His smile reminded her of Bowie’s—on the rare occasions he ever smiled—and she blinked hard and nodded. It would be better than standing on the sidelines all night, a reminder to everyone that her husband wasn’t here.
Hays was an excellent dancer, making it easy for her to match his steps. “A good crowd tonight. Should raise a lot of money for the cause.” He looked up at the banner over the refreshment table. “ ‘Confederate Widows and Orphans.’ Miss Spanner outdid herself this time.”
When the dance ended, Elise found herself not lacking for partners. The Hart men must’ve decided not to let her feel on the outside looking in. One after another, they claimed her for waltzes, reels, and two-steps. Between times, they danced with their wives and sisters-in-law, laughing and keeping the par
ty lively.
Austin took Elise’s hand from Crockett’s, grinning, his dimples deep creases in his cheeks. Rebekah went into Crockett’s embrace as the strains of a waltz filled the room. “My dance?” Austin asked.
“I’ve been watching you. Where did you learn to dance so well? All of you Hart boys are good, but you and Hays are the best.” Elise looked up at him.
“We have our mother to thank. She insisted all her sons know how to dance with the ladies.” He pivoted her in a perfect circle, making her skirts belle. “We hated the lessons, but I think we’re all thankful now.”
“So Bowie had to learn to dance, too?”
Austin laughed. “And he was bad at it at first. All arms and legs, like a newborn colt. All I can say is my mother had a lot of patience.” He sobered. “I know it’s not my place to ask, but how are things between you and Bowie? Any better? I sure was hoping he’d change his mind about coming tonight.”
Elise swallowed against the lump in her throat and shook her head. “We’re fine.”
Her brother-in-law gave her a hug as the music ended. “You’re a good woman, Elise, but a pretty poor liar. Maybe Bowie just needs more time.”
He led her over to where GW sat. Soon they were surrounded by Harts, the men bringing punch for the ladies. GW patted the settee next to him, and Elise sat, grateful to be off her feet. “They’ll be serving supper soon.” He consulted his pocket watch. “Midnight’s coming. It will be Christmas Day in another quarter of an hour.”
Elise set her cup on a small table, loneliness sweeping over her, even in the midst of the crowd. Everyone around her was so happy, Hays and Emma and Houston and Coralee anticipating the births of their first children, Chisholm and Caro holding hands, Crockett brushing a quick kiss on Jane’s temple, and Travis whispering in Annie’s ear. Austin had his arm around Rebekah as if he never wanted to let her go.
She shouldn’t be envious, but she was. She should be happy for her new family, but she couldn’t muster any joy. She only felt empty inside.
Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection Page 55