Lisa Plumley - [Crabtree 02]

by The Scoundrel

  Generally speaking, he did not ponder things overmuch. Daniel was a doing kind of man. He saw something that needed doing, and he did it. Plain and simple. But this time, he wondered if his tendency toward straightforward action had been a mistake. If it had been too hasty, after all.

  From what Sarah had said while ironing, she wanted more from their marriage arrangement. She wanted “husbandly duties.” The other night, he’d refused her in no uncertain terms. Now, though, lulled by comfort and that contented place between sleep and full wakefulness, Daniel reconsidered.

  Would it really hurt matters to give Sarah what she wanted? At least a little bit of it? He knew it would make her happy. She was his friend; he wanted happiness for her, of course. If it came at but a small cost to him…

  Experimentally, Daniel smoothed a hank of hair from her shoulder, just above the neckline of her gown. With her skin bared to him, he listened again to her breathing. She still sounded like a snoring buffalo buried in a foot of deep mud. Good. Satisfied that Sarah would be none the wiser to his actions, he decided to experiment further.

  He took a breath. His heart pounded strangely, no doubt due to the rattling effects of her snoring. Puckering his lips, he hesitated, then pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

  There. Kissing was a “husbandly duty,” according to Sarah. Now he’d tried it. Holding himself still, Daniel waited for something to happen. She did not stir, and his heart did not stop pounding. Curious. But since he didn’t feel unduly roused by the action, he tried it again.

  This time, he made his kiss more lingering. Her skin smelled of lavender, he recognized. That, and the castile soap she bought at the mercantile and forced on him and Eli at all-too-regular intervals. Smiling faintly at the memory, Daniel dared to conduct a second test, this time with his free hand. This would serve only, he assured himself, to discover exactly what offering those “husbandly duties” of hers might cost him.

  He glided his palm more firmly down her body. Her waist felt compact, covered by the soft finery of her nightgown. The nightgown. The one that had haunted his daydreams since he’d glimpsed it. Moving lower, he felt her hip, lush and firm, exactly as feminine as any he’d ever touched. He skimmed his hand to the top of her thigh, as far as he could reach.

  Sarah stirred, giving a little moan.

  Daniel stopped, breath held.

  Damnation, he was a fool. What would he tell her if she discovered him this way? Touching her all over? Kissing her shoulder? Pressing himself—he realized too late—intimately against her backside?

  Everything below his beltline felt pleased enough with the attention, especially after weeks of neglect. His body fairly leaped with eagerness, wanting to arrow closer to her softness. But Sarah might have a different, less favorable view of his lustful grinding against her. Tensing his muscles, Daniel held himself rigidly still.

  His breath rasped in the stillness. When had it quickened that way? He didn’t remember being aware of it. He’d been rapt with attention at Sarah’s hardy feminine figure, so full and so…he noticed now as he peered closer…freckled. There, on her shoulder where his mouth had been. Unreasonably, he found those freckles adorable. Even though he had spots of his own and thought nothing about them at all.

  She snuffled and rolled over suddenly, one arm flung above her head. Daniel found himself with a full view of her sleeping form. To his surprise—and with the likely help of that sinful nightgown—Sarah seemed almost pretty. Her face looked relaxed in slumber, her brows smoothed without their usual furrow of…concentration? Determination? Dyspepsia?

  He didn’t know what the hell made her look like that most of the time, it occurred to him. Possibly her eyes hurt from reading all those books she’d lugged to his house when they’d married. Sarah read an uncommon amount—while she stirred the soup, while she waited for Eli to finish bathing, even while she fixed her hair. That habit, like much about her, was a mystery he hadn’t expected.

  He’d honestly never pondered what went on in her illogical female brain. He knew that a great deal did; her schoolmarming was proof enough of that. But Sarah was unlike any other woman. She climbed trees as competently as she baked biscuits. She threw a baseball as enthusiastically as she scrubbed a floor. She fit in with the menfolk as easily as she guided her students, and somehow she made it all seem natural. Sarah was uncommon. That was why the two of them got on so well. And now she was snoring again, fit to raise the roof, leaving him free to finish his wanderings.

  Daniel considered what he’d learned. So far, these “husbandly duties” of hers didn’t seem all that taxing to him. Of course, he did want her. Right now. He wanted her the way any man would have wanted a woman he woke up mostly naked next to. That was only natural.

  But when he touched her, when he kissed her shoulder, when he felt her curves fit beneath his hand, he didn’t experience any untoward sentiment. He didn’t feel prone to burst into song, or write a love poem, or forsake his own family. Or, overall, to indulge in any of the twaddle folks “in love” seemed to do.

  Relief swamped him. “Love” made a person foolhardy. The very last thing Daniel meant to do, by everything he held dear, was fall prey to it. It was a view he hadn’t explained to Sarah. Truly, he probably could not have done. But more than most, he understood the ruinous nature of that emotion. He’d be damned if he’d inflict it upon anyone he cared about. He had only to glance at Eli to remind himself of that fact.

  And to deepen his resolve.

  He could not love Sarah, he reminded himself now, frowning at the thought. It would only hurt them both.

  Innocent of his meanderings, she lay flopped beside him, one hand curled on the pillow. She let fly another resounding snuffle. At the sound of it, Daniel grinned. Given all the caterwauling she did about the occasional belch in this household, a man would expect not more than a peep from her. When she woke, he ought to tell her so. He ought to start calling her Buffalo Sarah. He ought to belch freely and manfully, whenever he chose, and not stifle himself as he had been. But first…

  Continuing his explorations, he slid his hand up her arm. She squirmed when he reached the tender crook of her elbow, but did not awaken. Too late, it occurred to him that she’d always been ticklish. He’d have to take care. Inciting a round of her carefree guffaws, as much fun as that would be, was not what he had in mind. He didn’t want her to wake up. If she pinned him with another of her bewitching Molly-ish gazes, he knew he wouldn’t have the fortitude to do what he knew he must.

  Kiss her fully. On the mouth.

  Nothing else would be a true test of his “husbandly duties.” Any man could kiss a shoulder. Pshaw—that was nothing. But to kiss a woman on the mouth…that was enticing. Intimate. A pathway to other things. Contemplating his next move, Daniel studied Sarah’s mouth. He’d never noticed before, but her lips were a lovely shape. Perfectly full. Their deep pink color would have tempted any man to action.

  Well, ’twas fortunate he was a doing kind of man, then. Keeping that excuse—no, rationale—in mind, he levered himself up on his elbow. Carefully, he placed his hand on her jaw, holding her steady. Sarah slept on, so he cradled her face in his fingertips and lowered his mouth to hers. Slowly, silently, he brushed his lips the merest degree over hers.

  Kissing her felt strange. Different than he’d expected, yet invigorating. At the contact, his whole body stiffened, confusion and desire washing over him in equal measure. This is Sarah, a part of him prodded. A larger, stronger part of him urged him onward. Yes. It is Sarah. A new Sarah, to him. And he did want her, even more than before. But that was only natural. It was a man’s way. It didn’t mean a thing.

  Feeling more certain, Daniel kissed her again. Yes. He could cope with this kind of kissing. He could manage those “husbandly duties” she wanted without breaking a sweat. Smugly, he raised his head and regarded her. He would do it. A lesser man might have weakened, but not him. He knew exactly what he was about.

  At that moment, Sarah opened
her eyes.

  Daniel froze. Surely she would wonder, would want to know why he hovered over her this way. Needing an excuse, he searched his brain for a reason why he might be here with his face only inches from hers—with his mouth poised over hers. But then Sarah lifted her gaze to his, and there were no questions in her eyes. Only happiness.

  Happiness that was his undoing.

  Smiling, she reached for him. “Daniel,” she murmured.

  It was the way she said his name—so huskily, so joyfully, so damned hopefully—that made him realize the folly of what he’d done. Kissing Sarah while she was insensible to it was one thing. Kissing her while she looked at him, full of trust and affection, was something else entirely.

  He could not do it. Already he’d begun to see her differently. Already her laughter made his heart turn over strangely. Already her smile meant something new to him—made him long for things he never had before. How much worse would it be, Daniel wondered savagely, if he gave in? If he found himself in the grasp of some foolhardy “love”?

  He could not risk it.

  “It’s past time to get up,” he announced with a frown. Then he grabbed for his britches and got out of bed.

  Later, Sarah traced many of Daniel’s most peculiar habits to that morning. For instance, beginning that same day, he took to sleeping every night in his clothes. Shirt, britches, braces, socks—everything but his boots. She found it idiotic and told him so. For one thing, it made a mockery of her ironing, since Daniel came home, bathed, dressed in clean clothes and then slept in them, wrinkling them beyond recognition for his new day at the smithy.

  Also, it make him so overwarm that he inevitably hurled all the linens on her at night, forcing them both into dark, sleepy tussles. Thirdly…well, she just plain didn’t like it, and she figured that was good enough reason for him to stop doing it. Nevertheless, despite her reasoned arguments to that end, the daft man persisted.

  Sadly, his woolly layers of garments deprived Sarah of the thrilling feeling of his bare skin during their morning cuddling. That was the bad news. The good news was that their cuddling continued. She didn’t dare exult in that fact when the overly clad Daniel was around, but she enjoyed it immensely, all the same. Because to her, his inability to stop waking with his arms around her had to mean that he loved her a little.

  Eventually, he would tell her so, she assured herself. Eventually, he’d quit leaping out of bed, swearing imaginatively every morning, and give her the words she longed so much to hear from him. Then everything would be right in their world.

  Until that time, Sarah persevered with her campaign to turn her scoundrel into a husband. She made great strides, too.

  Daniel complied—if grumpily—with everything she suggested, save husbandly duties and falling in love with her. She successfully got him to eat all his vegetables, to pick up his socks and to play poker with wagered buttons instead of money—as an example to Eli. She persuaded him to quit making new pallets, with the reminder of Whiskers’s supposed ferocity. She even got him to demonstrate fine manners on pretense of teaching them to Eli. Daniel tipped his hat to her and escorted her round the front room with an imaginary gentleman’s cane, and he was, as she’d known he would be, absolutely charming.

  She fell in love with him a bit more that day, she thought.

  As a thank-you for that last, Sarah sneaked into his smithy when Daniel was delivering plowshares by wagon and arranged everything tidily for his return. The task occupied an entire Saturday afternoon. Oddly enough, Daniel seemed less than overjoyed by all her hard work—with Toby’s help—on that account, complaining that if he’d wanted his metals displayed by shape, size and color, he’d have damned well done it himself. But Sarah knew that, deep down, he appreciated her assistance. Because after all, no sensible person could have accomplished a good day’s work amid that kind of disorder.

  Thus encouraged, she became indefatigable on behalf of her husband and Eli. She sewed them both handsome new shirts, made them their favorite dishes—including cabbage for Eli—and lit Daniel’s cheroots. She smiled at her husband’s ribald jokes. All the while, she kept up with her schoolteaching, difficult as it was.

  Daniel joshed that their whole house was chockablock with uppity female, but Sarah didn’t mind. At least that meant he saw her. Most people in Morrow Creek only saw her dazzling sisters, Molly with her sociability and Grace with her rabble-rousing. It did not pay to be the middle daughter. But for once in her life, Sarah felt at peace with that fact. Because now she had Daniel on her side.

  Eli, too, prospered under her care. He took to reading even more, to listening to stories before bedtime and keeping track of his oft-missing shoes. He even performed better with his schoolwork. But part of that was due to Daniel’s influence, Sarah felt sure. Because if she’d never noticed it before, she did then—Daniel was a wonder with the boy.

  Sitting in the Crabtrees’ parlor to pay a call to her family, Sarah held a cup of coffee on a saucer on her lap. While she visited, she watched Daniel on the floor with Eli. Unbothered by the conversation swirling around them, the two of them worked at one of Adam Crabtree’s prized jigsaw puzzles, their identical dark heads bent in concentration.

  “After all,” her papa had said when he’d handed over the heavy wooden puzzle, “Eli is our first grandchild, in a sense. It’s our duty to spoil him, isn’t it?”

  Fiona had laughed and agreed, and they’d both gazed fondly on the boy. Then Sarah had felt truly special. Because her whole family loved Daniel and Eli. And as soon as those stubborn McCabe males grew accustomed to Grahamite cooking, they would love her family right back.

  While Sarah discussed the recent Chautauqua, Daniel and Eli’s puzzle steadily took shape. Every once in a while, Daniel would offer a bit of encouragement. He’d point out a spot Eli had been searching for, then tousle the boy’s hair in congratulations when he fitted the proper piece. He’d murmur about the picture they were making, or use a funny-shaped piece to trot over the whole works as an imaginary steed, neighing with complete abandon. Every time, Eli laughed.

  Sarah did, too. But seeing them that way felt almost painful, all the same. Because she knew that Daniel and Eli didn’t truly need her. Not yet. Right now, they’d do fine on their own, whether they realized it or not. The thought filled her with resolve to do more, to try harder, to make sure that she earned her place in their lives.

  “Oh, Daniel!” Fiona said, breaking a momentary silence in the openhearted way she had. “Before you leave, I simply must give you some cuttings from my greenhouse. Sarah won’t accept them—”

  “Mama, you know I don’t have your green thumb.”

  “—but if I present them to you as a belated wedding gift, then your wife can’t very well refuse them, now, can she?”

  Daniel grinned. His rapscallion’s gaze shot to Sarah, brimful of certainty. “Well, now. I’d say your mama is someone who knows how to deal with you. I should pay a call on my own sometime, to gather hints from this wise woman. Tell me, Mrs. Crabtree, how do you make Sarah stop spinning tall tales? I swear she has a whopper for me every night at the dinner table.”

  He turned his attention shamelessly to Fiona, lavishing his charm on her and on everyone present. When she laughed and swatted him with her handkerchief, Daniel pronounced their deal as sealed. He proclaimed that Fiona had captivated him, then hornswoggled him into accepting half the flowers she grew.

  “Likely,” he said, “I’ll be too burdened to walk home. I’ll have to hire a wagon and team just to carry the posies.”

  “You silly man.” Fiona wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “No wonder Sarah loves you so.”

  An awkward silence fell. Sarah stilled, her coffee cup partway to her lips. Horsefeathers, but her family was forthright. What would Daniel say now?

  As it turned out, nothing. He merely sipped his coffee. Perhaps everyone would believe him to be exceedingly thirsty, Sarah thought in a dither. Perhaps they would believe he found his deep
and abiding love for her too personal to share.

  Or perhaps they would guess the truth.

  It fell to Molly to save the day.

  “Yes, no wonder,” she agreed, calmly arranging her skirts. “We all are so happy you’ve joined our family, Daniel.”

  At that prompt, the conversation resumed. Talk turned to the weather, the new millinery in town, the possibility of a circus troupe coming through from the East. Sarah cast her sister a grateful smile. She didn’t dare look at Daniel, fearful she’d see speculation in his eyes.

  Fiona spoke up again. “Oh, dear. I nearly forgot. Daniel, I’d be much obliged if you would also write down your dear sister’s direction for me, please, before you leave. After all, we’re family now. I would very much like to send Lillian my wishes for a full recovery.”

  Daniel looked up. “Recovery?”

  At his stony expression, Mama blanched. “Well…I…yes. I’m sorry. I thought surely she must be ill, to have sent Eli here to stay with you…”

  Uncertainly, Fiona glanced to Adam, then to Grace. Both of them watched Daniel with interested expressions. Near the piano, even Molly and Marcus had stopped their conversation.

  “My sister recently remarried and is on her wedding trip.” Daniel’s voice sounded firm, almost harsh. “In Europe, I hear tell. Italy, by now. She won’t get your letter.”

  Curiously, Eli glanced up from his puzzle.

  “Oh. Her…wedding, you say?” Fiona floundered. “I…my goodness. Isn’t that unexpected? Of course, I knew she’d been widowed some years ago.” A sorrowful glance to Eli. “We all did, but I’m afraid I’m not quite…”

  Grace, seeing her distress, offered a protective squeeze. “It’s all right, Mama.” When she faced Daniel, it was with her ablest, most intimidating expression. “I assume Lillian will receive her mail eventually?”

  “Hard to tell.” Daniel met Grace’s direct gaze with an unswerving look of his own. There was something of a warning in his expression—not that headstrong Grace would be likely to heed it. “I didn’t get her letter about Eli coming here until after he arrived.”