by Kristin Holt
She seemed to want to respond, so he gave her several long seconds in which to speak. Her breaths came more rapidly, but whatever it was, she didn’t seem able to say it.
He leaned nearer, pressed his forehead to hers, and whispered. “I find you most appealing, and I’m a man with normal appetites. I meant every vow I made in the church this day. I will be a faithful and honorable husband.”
She nodded, the movement jerky.
“Will you allow me to be your husband in truth?”
More nodding, but begrudging, as if she thought she didn’t have a choice.
“Darling, my Josie.” He eased away and brushed a thumb over her cheekbone. “I simply ask. I won’t rush you, just as I cannot rush you in the process of developing love for me.”
“Now, come, let me show you the rest of the car.” Taking her by the hand, led her into the train car hallway once more, against the far wall of windows. The master bedroom took up nearly the full width of the car.
“Here is the family’s bath.” He opened the final interior door and nudged her inside. The room was lit by sunshine streaming through the window and privacy sheers. The curtains were drawn back with ties.
He watched her take in the amenities with eyes that seemed to really see the sink and faucets. Beveled mirror affixed to the wall. A large bath tub, formed to fit a man’s back. A cupboard containing towels. The commode in the corner.
Everything had changed the moment he’d told her he wanted her in his bed.
Her effervescent joy, her nearly uncontrollable excitement about every part of this home-away-from-home had been doused with his revelation.
He could curse himself six ways to Sunday.
Or he could redouble his efforts to court his wife. Surely with enough sweet attention, enough comportment and propriety she’d slowly lose the terrified edge.
Wouldn’t she?
“There’s more.” He walked her into the main corridor, past a cluster of upholstered seats and to the end of the car where a door stood amid a bank of windows. He opened the door and a rush of fresh air snaked inside.
The noise of a train in motion became instantly louder.
She swept the view from her left to right, taking in the full range of all there was to behold, moving by at such a rapid pace.
“Darling, would you like to step out for some air?”
“Ummm… maybe later?”
His perfect opportunity to ensure she knew her choices mattered with him. “Of course.” With an easy grin, he shut the door against the wash of cool air streaming past the car and the clatter of wheels upon iron rails.
With the outside noises muted, he gestured at the car in whole. “What do you think of it?”
“It’s amazing.” She seemed willing to look anywhere but at him. “When I stepped off the train in Ogden today, I thought I’d perhaps never travel by train again. I didn’t know.”
Now she did meet his gaze. Held it, too. “It seems I’ve been more than pleasantly surprised.”
He shared her hesitant smile, thrilled when hers brightened. Oh, yes. He’d see to it she experienced one pleasant surprise after another. They’d move past these few awkward days in their unconventional, untraditional beginning. And soon, everything would be well with them.
“Wonderful.” He stole a quick kiss. “I have a wedding gift for you, Dearest. Come with me. I want to give it to you right now.”
Chapter Nine
Adam had planned his bride’s wedding gift from the very beginning.
But he’d thought to give her this gift of a new wardrobe at home. He’d known his mill-worker wife would have few to no nice things and given he had the ability to provide her with exquisite clothing and shoes he definitely wanted to do so.
He’d needed to make a few adjustments in the plan such as inviting the seamstress along for the ride, promising her triple the pay for the week she’d be away from her shop, meals, and if she’d care to work with his stewards in the private car, another set of wages.
“Josie, Darling, have a seat right here.” He eased her into her chair at the table that had been cleared from their afternoon repast.
Happiness lit her eyes. “A gift?”
“Yes. Give me just a moment.” He strode up the passage toward the front of the car and the staff’s domain. He found Mrs. Bushnell washing dishes in the galley.
Adam gestured for the woman to dry her hands. “Mrs. Bushnell, it’s time.”
Back before his wife, Adam said, “May I introduce Mrs. Bushnell, who’s traveling with us as far as necessary. Afterward, she will likely return home and begin sewing the wardrobe I’ve commissioned.”
Josie looked from Mrs. Bushnell, to him, and back again. “I don’t understand.”
“I want to give you a beautiful wardrobe, filled with lovely things to wear.”
Josie froze. His comments an instant reminder of her poverty, their differences. “Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say.
She could see that her reaction disturbed Adam. “Do you remember what your sister said in the train station upon meeting you?”
“She said a great many things, I recall.”
“Yes. And one of them was her insistence that if we, Richard and I, had wanted brides with trunks filled with fashionable gowns, we shouldn’t have required brides who’d worked in mills or factories.”
“I remember.”
“And you and I had a serious conversation, not long ago, about my purposes in sending for you as my bride.”
The intensity in her husband’s gaze, the remembered comments that had filled her with a strange weightlessness she still couldn’t identify— all of this returned. He’d chosen her. He wanted her, not a fancy woman with gowns in trunks and he wanted her to be who she was.
Apparently, he wanted her to be who she was and dressed finely, too.
“Will you allow me to follow through with my wedding gift? Will you work with Mrs. Bushnell and allow her to measure you, select fabrics and with your instruction, begin working?”
Josie was hesitant to agree, feeling like this was yet another concession and not knowing why. “For a few things. Thank you.”
“You need a wardrobe fit for winter, and more for spring. Then the heat of summer. You need a coat, winter petticoats, dresses for formal occasions and dresses for everyday use.”
“One will do.”
“Please, Darling. Allow me to spoil you, won’t you?”
She couldn’t help softening toward him.
Why did she want to resist such a generous-hearted man?
Affection warmed his gaze. “I want very much to care for you, and this is one way I’ve been looking forward to for months.”
The thought that he’d planned and made arrangements, long before she’d noticed his advertisement and sent the telegram… it made her resistance seem foolish.
“Months?”
“Since I placed that ad in Groom’s Gazette. I’ve dreamed of this wedding gift all that time. The change in plans as to where we’d be in the first weeks of our marriage threw a wrench in the works, but Mrs. Bushnell was flexible enough to travel with us. Won’t you humor me?”
His bride still seemed reluctant to accept his gift, so he pulled out his ace. “It seems to me you embarked this journey without so much as a reticule. I believe all you have is the clothes on your back.”
Josie’s eyes rounded then closed in obvious realization that all he said was true.
Adam nudged Mrs. Bushnell. It was high time the woman explained her purpose.
“Mrs. Taylor, I’ve brought along many ready-made things I can tell already will make you a good fit. A nightgown for example. You’ll be so much more comfortable for sleep tonight with something fresh to wear.”
“Thank you.”
He’d warned the woman, whose creations were often seen about Ogden City at the Opera House, social functions, displayed by the wives of judges and senators, months ago, that she was not to give any hint of distaste
for the circumstances the new Mrs. Taylor would find herself in. If she came prepared with trunks of lovely clothing, she would simply complement and enrich, add to her own choices. If Adam’s new wife wore rags— which from the state of the singular dress, patched, shiny and threadbare between the patches, dull and dismal— the later far more applied, she would see to it Mrs. Taylor received the deference and care due a foreign monarch.
Adam had paid her an exorbitant fee to be entirely available to him for the adornment of his wife for the weeks following her arrival.
He intended to see Josie delight in his gift.
She seemed to think it over, but he knew he’d won her approval. “Thank you, Adam. I’m humbled and honored. And I accept.”
“Wonderful!” Mrs. Bushnell exclaimed. “I have a few ready-made things I’d love to give you now. I brought a trunk of possibilities on board, but most will require adjustments. I had no idea how tall you might be, or of what size.”
Josie watched as the older lady unveiled a blue satin day dress, while Adam watched Josie. She stared at the frilly concoction for a long moment and slowly reached out to touch it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Oh, la, it is indeed. Thank you, child. Please, won’t you put it on?”
Josie nodded and took the dress into their bedroom. She returned a few minutes later. She looked breathtaking.
Spectacular.
He reacted like any husband would, he imagined, his chest puffed up with pride, affection, and a sense of satisfaction that Josie was his, and his alone.
He liked it.
The parade of fashion he’d imagined even before he know Josie, would be an absolute delight.
No better way to spend the evening.
“Mrs. Bushnell, can you finish any minor alterations with the nightgown? My bride wishes to bathe tonight, and I’d like to see her have her night clothes ready to don.”
“With pleasure, Mr. Taylor.”
In early to mid October, the sun set before supper time.
She’d worked with Mrs. Bushnell for what felt like two hours, examining lovely fabrics, looking through design books, discussing options and the styles Josie enjoyed most.
Through it all, Adam had sat in an upholstered chair with a grin on his far too handsome face.
How he found so very much joy in giving, in pleasing her, she didn’t quite understand.
But he did— and as she realized her acceptance of his gifts made him happy, she determined she would forever respond favorably.
Adam Taylor truly was a charming, endearing man. He would be so very easy to love.
If she dared admit it to herself, this long, emotional, and exhausting day had shown her many different sides of her husband… different sides she knew she would love. In some ways, she was already halfway in love with him.
The day had been lengthy, emotional, and exhausting.
She wanted nothing more than to get past the uncomfortable first night’s ritual of turning in together. Going to bed tomorrow night and each night thereafter would become ever so much easier.
She didn’t own a timepiece, but the more Adam checked his, the more she wanted to ease his discomfort. He was obviously as nervous as she, though Mrs. Bushnell had bade them goodnight and gone to her quarters. The stewards had left them alone, too.
She met his gaze, charmed again by the compelling blue of his eyes. Would she ever grow used to them? “Would you mind, very much, if I took a few moments to wash up?”
“You’re welcome to use the bathtub. Come, I’ll show you how to fill it.”
“No—no, that’s quite all right.” She bit her lip, wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“I promise to allow you ample time and privacy.”
And that quickly, she remembered her vow to receive his gifts with grace and simply than him. “Thank you. I’d like that very much.”
His wide smile made her insides tingle.
He took pride in showing her how to operate the tub, how to stop the drain, find the temperature she enjoyed most, and brought out soaps and creams, comb and brush, toothpaste and toothbrush. “Do you need anything else?”
“A towel?”
He opened the cupboard and put a bath mat on the floor before the tub for her, then set two large, soft-looking towels in a lovely shade of yellow over two hooks within easy reach of the bath.
“Anything else?” His expression seemed so hopeful, she searched her mind for anything she might ask of him… anything at all.
It seemed far too early to ask him to stay, to wash her back…
She could unbutton her own simple dress easily enough by herself.
Clothes! She laughed with nervousness. “I need the nightgown and underthings Mrs. Bushnell brought for me.”
“I’ll get them.” Adam darted out of the bathroom, and returned momentarily with the neatly folded stack in his hands. He set them on an empty lower shelf in the bathroom. Evidently the place set aside for clean clothes. Perfect.
“Thank you.” She told him, reaching for him out of habit, the way she might touch her sister in passing… a squeeze on the arm, a hug around her waist.
Her husband responded with the same kind of eagerness to touch her in return. He looped his arm around her waist and drew her close. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then lingered, as if holding her in the bathroom were the most natural thing in the world.
She couldn’t help but grin. She could become quite used to this man’s efforts to take care of her. It all seemed so natural, so easy for him. No wonder Richard, who knew this man so well, had assured Lessie that Adam would take splendid care of Josie, his wife.
She was this amazing man’s wife.
And he wanted to make her comfortable, please her, see her smile, provide the simplest of pleasures and also the greatest of gifts… such as an entire wardrobe filled with ten times the lovely things she needed.
And this was just the beginning.
Chapter Ten
When Adam packed his trunks for this journey to Silver Queen, he managed to find a nightshirt to bring along.
He hadn’t worn pajamas of any kind since he was a child, preferring to sleep in his underwear.
But he had enough modesty, and knew his bride likely would, too, that he brought the nightshirt along. His wife deserved every bit of courtesy he could show her.
He’d asked a great deal of her today. He’d asked for one set of qualifications when she contacted him about his advertisement. And now that they were wed, he’d asked her for yet another.
And she’d taken it all in stride. How had he been so very blessed?
While she bathed, he washed up in the sink of the en-suite lavatory. He shaved anew. His beard would roughen and chafe her skin… and while he refused to have too high a set of expectations, he did hope she’d allow him to hold her.
He brushed and flossed, he realized his thoughts had remained squarely on her.
He’d gone into this marriage with his eyes wide open, and determined to fall in love with his wife. Until now, he hadn’t realized he’d thought it would require effort and determination to develop warm and tender feelings for a stranger.
But Josie— a pleasant surprise— would be so very easy to love. He already loved her smile, her joy of discovery, her humble approach, and the scent of her hair and skin. He loved how well she fit in his arms, how her little body fit perfectly beneath his chin.
The door opened and his heart quickened. Good thing he’d put on the confounded night shirt before he’d shaved or her appearance could have made them both uncomfortable.
But he refused to let this first night together feel awkward for her. “Did you enjoy your bath?”
“It was glorious.”
He smiled at her enjoyment, and simply because she smiled. He’d married a beautiful woman.
“I like your new robe.” She’d buttoned it up to her throat and tied the sash. She’d tucked her hands into the embroidered pockets. She’d washed her hair and combed it through, and it
hung in damp strands, nearly to her waist. All that showed was her neck and face… and bare toes.
Little, pink, clean toes. He could have looked a good long while, but poor Josie seemed uncomfortable, and that was his number one rule— he would not make Josie uncomfortable.
He finished flossing, rinsed his mouth in the sink, and put his toothbrush in the holder to dry. “Come to bed, Darling. I have a bedtime story for you.”
“A story?” She approached the big bed, far less uncomfortable, at least in appearance, than he’d thought she’d be.
Adam folded back the covers and pushed the decorative pillows off onto the floor. Josie picked up the fancy pillows and stacked them on the chair. Just to tease her, he knocked two more pillows off to bounce on the carpet.
She giggled and bent to pick up an armful of pillows.
He tried not to look, but what a lovely shape she had.
A husband could look at his own wife and admire her shape, couldn’t he?
He cleared his throat and pulled back the covers. “Speak now if you prefer this side.”
“I— I really don’t know if I have a preference.”
“You didn’t share a bed with your sister?”
“Sometimes I have. When we were small, and when we could afford to rent only one space.”
She never ceased to amaze him. He’d thought of the grand idea while shaving. “Tonight, m’dear, we’re both going to approach this with comfort. I’m going to climb on in as if we’ve been sharing a bed for ten blissful years, and you’re going to climb on in as if you’re sharing a bed with your sister and all the ease and familiarity that brings. Sound good?”
“Can’t I just pretend I’m sharing a bed with my husband?”
He could have choked. “Yes. Yes, you may.”
She untied her robe, unbuttoned the long line of buttons up the front and hung it in the closet.
He intentionally waited to turn off the lamp until she’d reached the bed… for her safety, he’d told himself, and would have told her that same line, too, had she asked. But he simply wanted to see the pretty pink rosebuds embroidered along the neckline of her nightgown, admire the tiny pin-tucks that ran along the bodice from shoulder seam nearly to her waist, and the round pearl buttons along the center front. Gathered sleeves came to her wrists where ribbons cinched up the width to her own comfort and lace adorned the end of the ruffle.