When Sarah didn’t say anything, Molly did look up. Her previously puckered expression turned to a more aghast one.
“You did wear the flannel! Oh, sweet heavens—”
“No, no. I wore the new gown.”
“Good.” Molly beamed. “Grace will be glad. Do you know, she even lowered herself to stitch on some of the lace? Of course, she muttered something about women getting stuck with all the most trivial work while men did the exciting things as she sewed…but you know Grace.”
Sarah did. Her sister was an avowed suffragette, a devoted advocate of the work of Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony. She’d organized a number of ladies’ aid organizations in town, and served on several committees, as well. She bicycled, picketed and even engaged in amateur ornithology. There was nothing traditional about her elder sister. But then, that was expected of a Crabtree woman. Their parents had allowed them the freedom to pursue their own interests.
Returning to the subject at hand, Molly smiled. “We decided every bride should have a lovely nightgown. Most especially our Sarah.”
Lost in thought, Sarah murmured an agreement.
Molly jabbed her with a floury finger. “Well? Tell me! Did you like it or not?”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, very much. It was lovely.”
Considering this new information, Sarah wiped her fingers on a napkin. That the nightgown had been a gift from her family explained a great deal. About Daniel, about their wedding night…about the morning she’d awakened beside him.
A terrible thought struck her. “Molly, I displayed myself to Daniel in that nightgown. Like a brazen hussy!”
Molly looked at her as though awaiting further information. When none was forthcoming, she put her hands on her hips.
“Yes? And?”
“What do you mean, ‘yes, and’? I behaved like a common—”
“Wife. Certain liberties are allowed once you’re married, you know. Or did Mama forget to tell you that? She did forget to tell me. There were a rocky few weeks, indeed, after Marcus and I were wed.”
Sarah peered at her. “Then why are you smiling over remembering them?”
“Because we found our way.” Briskly, her sister fit cinnamon buns in the waiting pan. “I have no doubt you and Daniel will, too. It’s only a matter of time.”
Pondering that, Sarah watched as Molly slid the pastries in her big work oven. Daniel had known he hadn’t given her that nightgown. So he hadn’t been tacitly inviting her to join him on their wedding night by leaving it out for her. Yet when they’d awakened the following morning, he’d allowed her to stay. That had to mean he did yearn for her…at least a little bit.
The notion gave her far more hope than she’d had till now.
Heartened for the first time in weeks, Sarah reached for another fritter. The door to Daniel’s heart had cracked open! Just a wee bit, it was true, but that would have to be enough. From here on, she only needed a wedge to widen the gap further.
Feeling grateful for her sister’s encouragement, Sarah glanced to Molly. There was still one more thing she needed to know, and her sister was the likeliest source.
“Moll, when you want Marcus to do something, how do you accomplish it?”
“Hmm?” Streaked by sunlight from the bakeshop window, Molly glanced up. She dusted her floury hands on her apron. “Accomplish it? Don’t be silly. I simply ask him.” She shrugged. “That’s usually all that’s required.”
“Excellent. That’s all I needed to know.”
Long past dark, Daniel confronted his wife.
“What’s this?” he demanded.
Innocently, she blinked at the clump of fabric he’d dropped on the kitchen worktable. “Hmm. Is this a quiz?”
“A what?”
She gave him a cheerful look. “My papa used to instigate games of charades in the parlor after dinner, but we never—”
“Sarah. Don’t fiddle with me. I’m in no mood.”
“Oh. In that case…” She set down her flatiron and regarded the fabric. “It looks like a pile of rags. Hurrah! What do I win?”
“This isn’t a game! What’s the matter with you? You’ve been in strange spirits all day.” And here it was dark outside, with Eli tucked safely in his bed.
“I’m just happy, that’s all. Optimistic.” Sarah traded her cooling flatiron for another, then hummed as she set to work on one of Eli’s shirts. “Today I’m glad just to be alive.”
He peered at her suspiciously. Grunted. He guessed this mania was what came of allowing her to visit her sisters. Those Crabtree women were an uppity lot. They were prone to all sorts of oddball ideas promoted by their freethinking family. Doubtless, Sarah had learned a new way to darn socks and was overcome with joy at the prospect of trying it out.
Which mattered to Daniel not a bit. Socks were socks. Fighting for patience, he moved the lamp closer and pointed to the thing he’d brought with him.
“That,” he said, “is my pallet!”
“Well.” She smiled at him, her demeanor exceedingly reasonable. “If you knew that already, why did you ask me?”
“Because this household is your business. It’s up to you to make sure things like this don’t happen.” Daniel shook the rags—his pallet—in his fist. “Explain yourself.”
“I don’t have an explanation. Other than it’s difficult for me to get to all the housework, given my duties at the schoolhouse. If I had a spare pair of hands, maybe—”
“Stop talking nonsense. It’s unlike you.”
“Hmm. How do you know that, Daniel? Perhaps there are other sides to me. Sides you haven’t noticed before.”
Resuming her humming, Sarah pressed the flatiron over Eli’s shirttails. She seemed beyond self-satisfied to him. And something else, too, something he didn’t understand. Daniel goggled at her. He considered himself a patient man, but this tried his fortitude.
He tried again, ladling some sweetness in his voice. “Does one of your ‘sides’ know what happened to my pallet?”
She smiled. With a graceful gesture, she tucked a strand of hair in her knotted braid. “It might have been my rogue washboard. It’s come dangerously close to shredding things lately. I’ve noticed a few snags.”
“Fine.” That was settled, then. “I’ll have a look at fixing it. Should be an easy enough thing to do.”
“Or I suppose…it may have been Whiskers who did it.”
He was losing his mind. “Whiskers?”
“Your cat.”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“Of course you do. It’s your pet.”
For a moment, given the surety in her voice, he almost wavered. Did he have a cat? Then he caught himself. “You mean that old tomcat? The mouser that prowls around here?”
“If that ‘old tomcat’ has beautiful fur and a regal demeanor, then yes. That’s the one.” She folded Eli’s shirt, then plucked a wind-stiffed pair of britches from her basket and started ironing them. “I’m afraid he has something of a mischievous streak.”
“You and that stray cat have a lot in common, then.”
She blinked at him. Impishly. “Meow.”
Daniel couldn’t believe his ears. Or his eyes. Something was wrong with her—something serious. How else to explain that his sensible Sarah was meowing?
She caught his expression and laughed. Laughed!
“Don’t look so horrified, Daniel. I’m making a jest. It’s what we do together, remember? We share jokes.”
Yes, but…usually he was the one teasing her. This was different. This time he didn’t seem to have the upper hand. It did not feel right.
Daniel folded his arms. “You named my cat?”
“I thought you said you didn’t have a cat.”
“Well, I refuse to have one named something so chowderheaded as ‘Whiskers.’ That’s for certain.”
“Oh. What’s your suggestion of a name, then?”
“I don’t have one. Cats don’t need names. I’ve been trying to
be rid of that one for weeks. It can barely catch a field mouse. It’s useless.”
Sarah looked aghast. “It’s lovable!”
“I suppose you fed it, too.”
She rolled her eyes in a way that he suggested he was daft to entertain any other notion. “Yes, beefsteak. Morning, noon and night.”
“Now we’ll never be rid of it,” he groused. Frowning, he flung down the useless tattered pallet. “Look! That cat destroyed my bed. Where am I supposed to sleep now?”
A smile curled the edge of her mouth. “We have a perfectly serviceable bed. It’s large enough for two. We can share it.”
“Share it?”
“You know.” She flipped over the britches, ironed the final wrinkled leg, then folded them. “Lie side by side, sleeping. Share the bed. Your bed. Our bed.”
“Humor is unbecoming on you, wife.”
“Oh? Then why are you smiling?”
Daniel slapped his hand over his mouth. ’Twas true. Beneath his beard stubble, a grin stretched his face. He could not find this feistiness in her attractive. Nor could he be interested in sharing a bed with her. She was his wife!
More importantly, she was Sarah.
“Fine,” he heard himself say. “We’ll share it.”
What? That wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all. He frowned, done in by the devilish part of him that had agreed to this terrible idea. Daniel had never in his life slept chastely beside a woman. Never. At least not knowingly. He damned well didn’t intend to start now.
Unaware of his slip of the tongue, Sarah nodded. Placidly, she went on ironing. For some reason, her lack of a more interested reaction irked him. Daniel didn’t understand it.
“But only until I make another pallet. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly.” She traded her flatiron for another she’d heated on top of the cast-iron stove, then licked her fingertip and tested the new iron’s heat. “But I can’t promise good results, Daniel. After all, your pallet is on the floor—well within Whiskers’s reach. As you said yourself, he is an exceedingly mischievous cat.”
“Then tame him.”
“If only it were as easy as that.” Sarah gave a gusty sigh. “I fear some creatures are simply unpredictable.”
Why did he have the sense she spoke of more than one mangy cat and its mischief? Fiercely unsettled, Daniel stared at her.
“The cat is part of this household. He’s your responsibility. Do something.”
“Very well. I will.”
With a nod, Daniel turned. That was settled, then. Good. Then another thought struck him. “I don’t mean spoil that cat any further,” he warned.
“You worry overmuch, Daniel. I said I’ll take care of it.” Contentedly, she ironed a pillowcase. “Speaking of which…since we’re discussing the household anyway, I have a proposition for you.”
What had this to do with an irksome cat? He didn’t know, but he decided to humor her. “A proposition?”
Nodding, she reached for the final item to be ironed—that blasted lacy nightgown of hers. Beset by a sudden recollection of the way she’d looked in it, all womanly curves and soft skin, he could not, for a moment, quite remember where he was.
“Yes. My suggestion is this.” Sarah didn’t seem to notice his distracted state. “I do a great deal of work in this household. Work you benefit from. And I’m doing a fine job of it, too. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at him, clearly startled. Daniel didn’t know why. He was many things, but grudging with the truth wasn’t one of them. “You’ve done an excellent job. Aside from the rutabagas.”
“Well, then.” Not taking his bait, she raised her chin with dignity. “I’d like to suggest a trade.”
“We’ve already fashioned a trade between us.”
“Yes, but it needs amending. In return for my continuing wifely duties, I think it’s only fair that you give something to me. Some…husbandly duties.”
Ahhh, hell. Steeling himself, Daniel asked the inevitable question. “What husbandly duties?”
“Oh, you know.” Seeming almost indifferent, Sarah gave an offhanded wave. “Your arm in escort when we’re out together. A kind word here or there about your meals. Even…” She paused, swallowing hard. “A few kisses whenever you leave or come home. Inconsequential husbandly things like that.”
Daniel thought about it. He pictured himself touching her the way she’d suggested, praising her cooking…kissing her at least twice each day, morning and night.
“You’d hardly notice any of those things,” she urged. “But they’d mean a great deal to me.”
Considering the merits of it, he looked at her. In the lamplight, Sarah’s face glowed, framed by curled wisps of hair. Her cheeks were flushed, pinkened by the exertion of ironing. And her eyes…her eyes gazed into his with a hopefulness and an affection so real, he could have looked into their depths all night long. He wanted to make her happy. Wanted to touch that wayward curl at her temple and curl it round his finger. Wanted…
Damnation. She was doing it to him! ’Twas the look Marcus had spoken of. Daniel knew it. With a jolt, he snapped himself out of it.
“Impossible,” he said. “Our deal stands as it is.”
His refusal came not a moment too soon. Another instant and he might actually have caressed her hair. Her hair! Like a lovesick schoolboy!
With a feeling he’d narrowly escaped something better left uncontemplated, Daniel left Sarah behind. He headed for bed, only pausing to look back once…and to wonder if he really knew the woman he’d married at all.
Chapter Eight
Stymied in her attempts to make Daniel treat her as the wife she wanted to be—rather than the convenient seam-stress, washwoman and preparer of bacon and eggs she was—Sarah decided a few days’ regrouping was in order. Perhaps Daniel was fearful of change. Perhaps he did not enjoy husbandly kissing. Or perhaps he merely liked things as they were. In any case, Sarah did not, and she knew one more thing for certain.
For a moment that night, Daniel had wavered.
She’d seen it in his eyes as she’d awaited his answer to her proposal, sensed it in the subtle movement of his hand as he’d lifted it toward her face—likely without even being aware of it. She knew that Daniel was beginning to see those other sides of her she’d mentioned, and that was all the encouragement she needed. Fortified by it, Sarah sailed through the days that followed in very good spirits.
Her marriage would not be a repeat of her time at home, she vowed, with her overlooked by her family—overshadowed by her more noticeable sisters. That had been painful enough the first time ’round. She couldn’t bear to be overlooked by Daniel as well. Besides, she reminded herself, it was only a matter of time before he loved her. How could he not?
Sarah kept that heartening thought in mind as she traversed the path to the schoolhouse each day, with her books in hand and Eli running and jumping and picking up sticks alongside her. She reminded herself of it as Daniel greeted her each night, with a smile on his lips and a silly story to make her smile. She thought of it in the mornings, when she awakened to find herself snuggled securely in Daniel’s arms.
In his sleep, he wanted her unabashedly. It was only when he awakened that the problems began.
But as she found herself in bed with him for the third morning in a row, Sarah decided to set all that aside. Being held by Daniel was simply too wonderful to quibble about. So what if it ended abruptly whenever he woke? For now, she’d simply enjoy it. Judging by the faint pink sunrise outside, there was time for that aplenty.
Stifling a sigh of pleasure, she closed her eyes again. Daniel lay behind her, his front cradling her back, one massive arm holding her waist. Her nightgown bunched around her knees, baring her legs to brush against his hairy calves. His breath whispered warmly over her shoulder. The intimacy of it all thrilled her.
Thank heaven she’d had the gumption to shred his silly pallet and end that nonsense of them sleeping apart
.
Cautiously, Sarah put her hand to Daniel’s forearm. It felt hard with muscle, warm and masculine. He didn’t stir. Emboldened, she pulled his arm more firmly against her bosoms, then wrapped his other arm around her as well. She wiggled her backside, getting comfortable. There. That was better. Now they were truly cradled together, like two matching spoons in a silver drawer. Satisfied, she smiled.
In no time at all, she drifted asleep again.
Confoundingly, Daniel awakened with an armload of woman.
He blinked himself into alertness. Thus roused, he took stock of the situation. Even with the quilt kicked off in the night, his body felt hot and ready. Nothing unusual there. His left hand enjoyed a palmful of—if he wasn’t mistaken—partially bared bosom, and his right hand had fallen asleep. A woman’s dark, soft hair obscured his view of anything more. Curiously, he angled his head sideways against the pillow, listening.
A soft snore met his ears.
A soft wifely snore.
Blast! It was Sarah, snuggled up to him just as she had been for the past three mornings straight. He needed to move, to get up as he’d done every other time he’d found her like this. It was for her own good. But against his will, Daniel noticed that she felt warm and good, and he decided to stay put. Just for a minute.
Carefully, he eased backward enough to free his tingling hand. Then, driven by a mad urge he didn’t dare think about, he swept his other hand very lightly along her side. Sarah was curved in all the right places, he observed, womanly and yet strong all over. No frail miss was she, he thought on a burst of ridiculous pride. She was strong enough to haul in firewood, to tighten the rope bedsprings, to carry Eli all on her own. She did those things uncomplainingly, too. He’d always admired that about her.
Safe in the comfort of his bed—a comfort he enjoyed in spite of his resolution to construct a pallet the damned useless cat wouldn’t shred—Daniel considered Sarah. He thought of the situation they’d made for themselves. In some ways, his marriage was exactly what he’d expected. In others, it might well be his most foolhardy decision yet.
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