by Sara Orwig
Honor drew herself up as she looked across the counter at Hugh Parsons, whose small eyes were shifting back and forth between Luke and her. “I’d like two loaves of your cinnamon bread.”
“Honor, you know I don’t serve Indians,” he said stiffly. “Sor—”
Luke reached across the counter, grabbed Parsons’s shirtfront, and lifted him to his toes. “I don’t see any sign that says any such thing,” Luke said in a quiet, slow statement, each word enunciated clearly. “Now my wife wants two loaves of cinnamon bread.”
Hugh Parsons licked his lips. “Yes, sir. Get the loaves, Tom.”
Luke released him and waited, his hands on his hips while Hugh Parsons stared at him. “I suppose we can make an exception since she’s your wife,” he said in a quaking voice.
Tom wrapped the loaves in plain paper and handed them to Luke. “That’ll be four bits.”
Luke tossed coins on the counter, took the bread beneath his arm, and linked his arm through Honor’s as they turned to go. He held the door for her and stepped outside, handing her the loaves.
Honor’s emotions were stormy; she couldn’t understand Luke’s actions or his anger. If he didn’t like her for her Indian heritage, why would it anger him if someone else didn’t either? She hurried to keep up with his long stride, her thoughts churning. At the wagon, his hands closed on her waist and she looked up into his jade-colored eyes that were dark with anger. Would she ever understand this man who was her husband?
He lifted her into the wagon and went around to climb up beside her. Enrique was settled in the back. Luke glanced down at the package from the bakery. “Get out one of the loaves, Honor. We’ll eat it on the way home while it’s hot.”
She carefully unwrapped it, passing the cinnamon-smelling hot bread to Luke, who tore off a chunk. She passed it back to Enrique, who helped himself and grinned.
“So Mr. Parsons sold bread to you. That is good, Miss Honor. Your pa would be pleased.”
“Why didn’t your pa see to it that Hugh Parsons allowed you in his store?”
“He said he didn’t want to give Hugh Parsons one cent of our money—I don’t think many H Bar R hands’ wives or lady friends shop there—”
“That they don’t, Boss,” Enrique added.
“So Jeddy and I just never went there. We get enough good baked bread and rolls and biscuits at home.”
“That’s the truth. But I don’t want anyone treating you that way, Honor,” Luke said solemnly. He turned into the lumberyard and jumped down. “We’ll be back soon.” Enrique climbed down to hurry inside, Luke striding along with him.
She waited, watching Luke walk away. He was tall, his back straight, his hair just curling on his shoulders. Why had he been so angry over Hugh Parsons?
In minutes he came out carrying boards across his shoulders. Her gaze ran down his length over his blue shirt and faded blue denim pants, and she remembered when he had stepped out of bed. Her pulse drummed, and she wished Uncle Stanton would stay with them forever, except she knew he was searching constantly for a way to take the ranch from her.
She touched her throat and felt the ribbon that held the key around her neck. Even if Stanton saw the books, it wouldn’t change anything. However, it gave her a small bit of satisfaction to know she was keeping the H Bar R books from him.
They stopped next at the livery stable to pick up Jeddy and head home. “Enrique, Acheson and his men weren’t far ahead of us,” Luke said solemnly as they left town behind. “Keep a watch. Jeddy, you and Honor watch for anything unusual.”
Honor wondered if Luke was remembering the time he was jumped by Rake’s men. She thought about the three men with Rake. “He doesn’t have enough men with him to take on you and Enrique,” she remarked, and Luke turned to look at her.
“Just keep looking around.” He picked up the partially eaten loaf of bread. “Jeddy, have some hot bread. We stopped in the bakery.”
“You went to the bakery?” he asked Honor, amazement in his voice.
“Luke insisted, and he made Mr. Parsons sell the bread to us.”
“Gee. I wish I could have gone.”
“You can next time,” Luke said lightly.
A breeze blew over Honor and she scooted closer to Luke and his warmth. He looked down at her solemnly, then placed his arm across her shoulders. “Cold?”
“A little,” she said, looking up at him, gazing into his unusual green eyes.
They rode on, with Jeddy talking continually. Her thoughts were more on the incident at the bakery than any lurking danger from Rake Acheson. She didn’t think he would take on Luke and Enrique without far more men so she wasn’t particularly worried.
Finally they reached the H Bar R barn and Luke drove the wagon to the door, halting the team and jumping down. He came around to lift her down. “I’ll help you unload the wagon,” he told Enrique, “as soon as I carry the supplies to the kitchen. He shouldered a sack of flour, while Enrique and Jeddy began to unload the lumber and new tools.
That night Honor could barely keep her mind on the conversation around her, only half-listening as Stanton and Luke discussed the buffalo hunters who had been in town. Talk shifted to the new rail lines that would make it easier to get cattle to eastern markets.
“Last year three hundred thousand head were driven to Abilene and put on trains for shipment East.”
“I’ve thought about getting into the rail business. It may be more enduring than cattle,” Stanton remarked.
“Now seems the time for it.”
Honor’s thoughts drifted back to the trip to town. All day long she had thought about the incident at the bakery, seeing a side to Luke that astounded her, and she wanted to talk to him about it. Finally Stanton said he was going to bed, and she went with Luke to their room. As soon as they closed the door, Luke turned the key and scooted the rug away from the door.
“I suppose Stanton will be back to knock on the door again,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Come here, Honor,” he said, drawing her to him and sliding his arms around her waist.
“Each night all my animosity toward your uncle disappears,” Luke said with amusement in a soft voice while he stroked her throat lightly and twisted a button at the top of her dress. “This is the most pleasurable moment of the day, thanks to him.”
It could stay that way all the time, she wanted to shout at him. We’re married, and we could truly be husband and wife if you wanted. She gazed up at him, keeping the words to herself while his amusement vanished, and he became solemn.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Honor,” he said in a husky voice and her heart missed a beat. Luke leaned closer, kissing her, his lips moving over hers. Sensations made her feel as if she were caught in spun gold, her heart beating like rain drumming on a tin roof. She placed her hands on Luke’s forearms, feeling the bulge of biceps, knowing the power in them.
His kiss deepened, his tongue filling her mouth, thrusting and withdrawing, awakening needs in her that seemed more insistent with each kiss. She wanted him, she needed his hardness and his strength. She wanted his love and respect that went beyond friendship. And with his kisses, she wanted him to love her completely, to make her his in every sense, to let her love him in turn. But she promised herself she wasn’t going to give her love until she understood the barrier that Luke kept around his heart.
Luke settled back against the door, spreading his legs, pulling her close against his long length and cupping her buttocks to press her hips close to him. His arousal was obvious, and her pulse roared while he shifted her and his fingers twisted free the tiny jet buttons of her bodice. He pushed it away, his hand sliding beneath her chemise to cup her breast, his thumb circling a nipple.
Honor gasped and shook, moaning softly with pleasure, wanting him and aching, letting her hands slide down over his waist and hips and thighs.
“Lord, Honor,” he said, lifting his head, his breathing ragged.
She tugged up her dress and moved away, determined t
o find out why Luke acted the way he did before she yielded to him completely, terrified if she gave herself, she would love him desperately and would be hurt more than she had ever been in the past.
As they moved apart, Luke unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it over his head, dropping it on a chair. “Looks as if Stanton isn’t coming to talk to me. Either that, or he’s waiting awhile.”
Honor moved away from Luke, unplaiting her hair and watching him, her gaze drifting down over his bare chest. Her heart raced and she bit her lip, dreading the thought of confronting him, but unable to deny her curiosity any longer. “Luke, I want to talk to you.”
Eleven
Luke sat down to pull off his boots. “Go ahead.” He glanced up at her and saw that her cheeks were flushed and she was biting her lower lip. He yanked off his second boot and dropped it, studying her.
“Why did you insist we buy the bread at the bakery today? Dolorita makes bread just as good.”
Luke studied Honor, and her face flushed even more beneath his scrutiny. “You ought to be able to shop anywhere in town you want. No one should refuse you because your mother was Comanche.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s pretty simple, Honor. Your Comanche heritage is as good as your Anglo blood.”
She frowned and stared at him, and he realized there was more to it than a simple question about the baker. “Why? What’s worrying you?” She looked away and bit her lower lip again, her fingers locked tightly together. He waited and finally her gaze slid back to him.
“If you feel that way, you don’t care if I’m part Comanche.”
He smiled at her, wondering why she was so worried about her blood all of a sudden. She seemed so certain of everything concerning the ranch that it startled him to realize she was unsure about herself. She seemed to handle the snubs she had received in town and shrug them off as unimportant, but maybe the hurts went much deeper than she had ever let anyone know. He stood up and crossed the room to place his hands on her shoulders.
“You’re a beautiful woman because of your Comanche blood. Your dark eyes are part of that heritage,” he said, touching her temple. He lifted strands of her hair that spilled over her shoulders. “This is part of your beauty, and it’s because you’re Comanche.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, the words a mere whisper. “I thought all these years you didn’t like me and you tried to resist me because I’m Indian—”
He stared at her, suddenly seeing so many times he had turned away from her and wondering if all these years she had thought it was because of her Comanche blood. He realized the taunts and snubs she had endured from some people might have caused her to think her heritage was the reason for any slight.
He groaned and pulled her against his chest as he stroked her hair. “Honor, you were so young. You’re still young. You’re only sixteen, and your pa trusted me with your hand in marriage in name only because he knew you could marry better—” The words hurt; Luke hurt all the way to his soul. He wanted to kiss her, then pick her up and carry her to bed, where he’d take the promises she held out so tantalizingly and convince her there was nothing about her that he objected to.
“Luke, you can’t hold back if you love me and I love you—” she said, her breath raspy and he looked into her eyes that had darkened until they were black pools.
“Honor, I gave my word to your pa and I’m keeping my promise to him, spoken and unspoken,” he said, looking at her standing before him, the black dress partially unbuttoned and the soft curves of her breasts barely revealed. “Honor, you’re sixteen. Even four years from now, you’ll be grown and you may feel differently,” he said in agony, his past a sword hanging over his heart and keeping him from taking her as his wife. And there was no way to tell Honor. He knew as surely as he was standing, that she would want him to forget the past and ignore it, and that was a risk he couldn’t take. He gazed into dark eyes, clenching his fists to keep from reaching for her.
Honor felt as if she couldn’t get her breath. She hurt in every inch of her body. And with the hurt was anger over his words. “I know why you made the bargain with Pa, for one third of the ranch. You don’t love me, and you won’t love me. It isn’t my blood; it’s just me!” She felt tears sting her eyes, and she didn’t want to cry in front of him. “I’m sleeping in the chair tonight. Please just leave me alone!”
“Sleep in the bed, Honor,” he said roughly. “I’ll take the chair.”
“You turn your back.” She moved to the bed to yank off her clothing and drop the nightgown over her head, then buttoned it and put away her clothes. She climbed beneath the covers and pulled them high, turning on her side. “I’m in bed.”
She heard him moving around, and she placed her hand over her face and cried silently. She knew so much about horses and cattle and the ranch, but she didn’t know anything about being a woman and dealing with men. Especially Luke McCloud.
Tears wet the pillow and she lay still, crying without a sound while Luke turned out the lamp. She heard boards creak and didn’t know whether he slept on a chair or the floor. She stared into the darkness, hurting and wondering if she would love him all her life and cry about him long after he had ended the marriage and moved away. He had been special to her since that first day he had stepped into their fight and followed them back to the ranch to work for Pa. Why wasn’t she woman enough for him?
Staring into the darkness, she lay still, until finally she raised herself up to see Luke stretched in the rocker, his feet propped on a table, his head slightly to one side while he slept. She lay down again, her hurt as strong as ever. It was almost dawn before she slept.
The next day Stanton packed and had the buggy brought to the back door shortly after dawn. He stood looking at Honor and bent down to kiss her cheek. “I must get back to my place and take care of business, but I’m satisfied, Honor, that you will be taken care of. I suppose if you want Lavinia’s help with Jeddy, you should ride over and talk to her.”
“Yes, sir,” Honor said dutifully, thankful now to see Stanton go because last night with Luke had been a torment.
“Both of you come and visit us,” he said to Luke, who shook his hand.
“Yes, sir. We’ll remember and we’ll be there.”
Luke stood by Honor’s side while the buggy drove away, then he moved away from her. “I better get to work,” he said, putting on his hat and heavy buffalo coat and striding toward the barn.
She turned away, going upstairs and moving her things back to her own room. As she took the last armload of clothes, she turned and looked around the room, remembering the past nights, thinking about Luke, recalling the closeness of sleeping in the same bed, the moments of blazing kisses, the long quiet talks of shared hopes about the H Bar R.
With a deep breath she left and closed the door behind her. In her room she changed to her boyish clothing and as she passed through the kitchen, she paused to look at Dolorita.
“I’ve moved my things back to my room, Dolorita. If you’ll please change the bed linens and put things straight, I’d like it ready tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dolorita said, quietly studying her, and Honor turned away before Dolorita could say anything.
Honor mounted up and turned to ride, finding Dusty helping Hank and José keep cows from the alkaline water in a pond on a northwest range. She rode with the men, forgetting Luke for long moments at a time, losing herself in work.
At the end of the day Luke strode toward the house, dreading the evening, knowing he had hurt Honor badly. Taking off his hat, he stopped at the pump and leaned down to drink.
He entered the house and placed his hat on a peg. “Evening,” he said.
“Mmmph,” Dolorita answered, and he turned to look at her.
She glanced at him, and he received a cool, assessing look.
“Something smells good,” he said, moving around the kitchen, his stomach rumbling with hunger as he lifted the lid on a pot to look at a steami
ng kettle of chili, Honor’s favorite dish. “I’ll go wash up,” he said, taking a bucket outside to fill it with water and returning to the kitchen to set it on the stove to heat. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” came the answer, accompanied by a dark look, and suddenly he realized Dolorita was angry with him. And there could be only one reason—Honor.
He turned away, knowing he couldn’t discuss his marriage with Dolorita or anyone else. He didn’t blame her for being angry with him because no one could understand why he didn’t take the love that Honor offered. And it had to be plain to most of the hands that Honor was hurting.
He inhaled, wanting to swear, feeling his past had finally caught up with him and he was paying now for what he had escaped so long ago in Missouri.
“I’ll be back to get the water,” he said, striding outside to pump another kettle full of water and carry it in, working in grim silence because there was nothing to say to Dolorita.
Shortly before supper Honor went to the parlor, where Jeddy was already immersed in a book. He glanced up as she entered. “How long before we eat?” he asked. “Dolorita said ‘uno momento’ and you know how long that can be.”
“It smells wonderful, so I’m sure it won’t be long.” In spite of hurting over the past night, Honor anticipated spending the next hour with Luke. Waiting for him, she moved around the room restlessly and finally sat on the settee.
When Luke came in for supper, he had bathed; his brown hair was still damp, tendrils curling above his forehead. He wore a linen shirt and black tight-fitting trousers, and her heart missed a beat when he strode into the parlor. Jeddy sat across the room, still poring over a book, and she gazed up solemnly at Luke as he studied her.
“I’ll be glad when you’re out of mourning. You look pretty in black,” he said, pouring a small bit of brandy, and crossing the room to her, “but it would be nice to see you in other colors.” He stood only a few feet from her and held out the brandy. “Care for some brandy?”