She faltered. She, who loved words, floundering, barely able to breathe—
Thomas’s gaze remained steady, luminous, and almost silver. “If you’re willing to be that woman for me—aye, Kate. I’m asking you to marry me. Even knowing what I am. That I’ve no earthly idea where I’m to go next.”
“I’d be honored to be your wife.”
He did reach for her then, gently tugging her around until she stood between his knees, then gathering her into his arms, his face pressed into the curve of her neck. Murmuring words that sounded suspiciously like—
“Are you speaking in Shawnee?” she asked, at the edge of a giggle. His breath tickled as it fanned her skin. “Aye.” She felt his slow smile. “I said, ‘my beautiful woman.’”
“But I’m only a silly, chattering female.” She tried to laugh again, but it broke into a sob.
He stilled. “My darling Kate,” he breathed against her ear, as she wept into his chest. “You’re anything but silly, and I’m sorry I ever said it.”
She couldn’t seem to stop crying. “I…I can’t believe…you’d really want me—”
“Hie there.” He nudged her chin upward until she had to look at him. His eyes glimmered pale silver in the near-dark. “Even Flying Clouds was taken with you. Both brave and beautiful, he said you are. And he’s right.”
Her breath caught. “Now you’re only flattering me.”
“Nay.” All hint of humor fled his face. “He would not lie, and—neither do I.”
The moment hung suspended. She was abruptly aware of their closeness, the shared warmth through the thinness of her shirt, and his, and the wild beating of her heart like the call of a distant whip-poor-will.
“Kate,” he whispered, and his thumb swept her cheekbone then touched the tip of her chin. “If I’d realized that first time I saw you how much I’d love you…”
She was melting, right here in his arms, but she thought about that moment, across the room at the tavern at Bean’s Station. “Nor I. You were so stern, so fearsome—” Her fingers traced the edges of his jaw. “Eyes-of-Sky. May I call you that, sometimes? I love the sound of it. And…you.”
Thomas’s head tipped. “They should have called you Joy-of-the-Heart,” he said, and then his lips were on hers.
“You should sleep,” Kate said at last, breathless.
“We should find a preacher.”
Her entire body flamed at that. “The sooner, the better.”
“Aye,” he breathed, his nose brushing hers.
“Would this town even have one?”
Kissing her again—and oh, the warmth of his mouth was so pleasantly intoxicating, she could think of little else—he shook his head. “That I don’t know. But we’ll ask.”
“Before or after you sleep,” she teased.
“Kate,” he said warningly, and the look in his eyes made her want to simply fall into his arms. But he drew a deep breath and stood, shoving the stool back with one foot, and led her toward the bed. “Sleep only, for now,” he pronounced, and stretching out, patted the space next to him.
“I—I can lie down on the floor,” she stammered.
He smiled a little. “You slept next to me in the woods, with five Indian braves surrounding us. You’ll not share this blanket with me now when we might marry in a few hours?”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Surely what every fiber of her wanted in this moment could hardly be lawful under any circumstances, but finally, gingerly, she lay down beside him. Let him tuck her into the crook of his arm, with her head pillowed on his shoulder. Stretched her free arm across his chest. And gradually, with his warmth soaking into her, she let herself sink toward slumber.
“In the eyes of the Shawnee,” he murmured, a soothing rumble under her ear, “we’re married already.”
That brought her back to wakefulness. “Are we?”
He chuckled shortly. “Aye. And had we stayed—and the council ruled in my favor—they’d likely have insisted on giving us a wedding feast.”
“That would have been—very kind of them.”
Thomas tucked her a little closer.
“So then—last night might have been our wedding night?”
He stilled. “Would you have wanted it to be?”
No hesitation tied her tongue this time. “Yes.”
“Well then.” He let out a long breath. “A preacher, sooner rather than late, please God.”
Thomas woke suddenly, aware of aches he’d been ignoring for hours—and the sweetest of weights stretched along his side.
Please, gracious Lord, let us be husband and wife before the day is out. Or by the time we reach her family again at least.
The sun was shining again, but he couldn’t see its angle from their tiny window. Even so, it was likely past noon, he didn’t relish facing the trace again just yet. Nor did he wish to disturb Kate, but—
She whimpered in protest as he eased his shoulder and arm out from under her, but settled quickly enough when he shushed her and tucked the edges of the blanket over her. “Sleep, sweet Kate. I’ll be back.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek, warm with slumber, and left reluctantly to find a fresh shirt and finish dressing.
Downstairs, he found that it was only just past noon. His inquiries yielded the news that Nat Carrington hadn’t been seen in a while, but there was a preacher lately come to offer folk encouragement. Thomas thanked the tavernkeep, who’d offered that information, and armed with directions, set out to find the preacher.
His pulse hammered at the mere memory of Kate’s dark eyes, soft and liquid, and the way she melted against him. He seemed to remember something from some preacher, years ago, thundering that it was better to marry than burn, but this was about so much more than the sweetness of her in his arms. Although he’d not deny that was something he looked forward to enjoying more of….
A spare, greying man and woman in worn clothing of a very eastern cut worked in the garden next to a cabin, and both looked up at his approach. “Are you the preacher?” Thomas called out.
The man swept off his hat and mopped his face with his sleeve. The day was indeed more warm and sticky after the brief rain. “I am Reverend Foster, yes.”
“I’m Thomas Bledsoe, and I’ve need of you for a wedding.”
Foster’s brow creased even as he offered an uncertain smile. “Yours, I presume?”
“Aye.”
“Have you a license?”
Of course that would be necessary. “Not yet. I’m guessing with this being a county seat, I can purchase one?”
The preacher’s head bobbed. “You’ll need a special license, unless you’re willing to wait…?”
“Nay. We’d like it done today.” He smiled thinly. “She’s been through a lot, my Kate.” Oh, but that felt just so good and right to say. “I want this done properly, and spare her any more difficulty at us needing to travel alone together.”
Foster blinked, straightened, and nodded his head. “My wife and I, we’d want to speak to the girl as well, first.”
“Of course,” Thomas said, and offered what he hoped was a more disarming smile this time.
Foster told him where to find the clerk’s office, and thanking the man and his wife, Thomas strode away to accomplish what needed to be done.
Getting the license was a simple enough matter, and the clerk hardly blinked at Thomas’s request for them to marry the same day. That accomplished, he fairly ran back to the tavern.
He found Kate still sleeping, and for several minutes, just stood watching her, lashes fanned across her cheekbones, lips parted, breathing softly. Tonight—tonight she’d sleep in his arms as his own lawful wife, with none to separate them, or judge as wrong—
Most merciful God, how do I merit this? I don’t, I know. It’s naught but grace…Your own grace.
Kate woke to feather-light kisses along the side of her face and the warm rumble of Thomas’s voice urging her to wake.
She sighed, half in
regret but half in delight of the novelty of being kissed awake. Cracking an eyelid, she peered at him. “Mm, I could sleep for a week straight.”
He chuckled, still leaning over her, perched on the bed beside her. “Myself as well. And maybe we should do just that—after we go make use of this.”
He rattled a paper, and she squinted, trying to catch the words through the bleariness of having just awoken.
“It’s a marriage license,” he said, grinning.
“Oh!”
Another chuckle. “Aye. But for some reason, the preacher and his wife want to make sure I have a willing bride. So I’ll need you to come along and reassure them of that fact.”
She sat up and touched her hair.
“You’re more than lovely enough. Let’s go.”
“I need at least to comb it out and braid it again.”
He didn’t look displeased by the prospect. “Fair enough. Mine too then.”
They accomplished the task, respectively, with as much haste as they could, and Kate ignoring the itching of her fingers to run through Thomas’s hair when he had it loose, while trying to give her own proper attention despite the warmth shining in Thomas’s eyes as she worked out the tangles. But at last they were ready and, after stopping by to give the tavernkeep payment for the additional night, hurried out into the sunlight.
Kate clung to Thomas’s hand, dodging mud puddles and other folk walking and on horseback, once again ignoring the stares they drew. What if the preacher disapproved for some reason and decided against marrying them? The humid air, and her worry, drew an itch down the center of her back, but she and Thomas had already discussed it at some length, and there was no way to know until they arrived—
Thomas was angling toward a log house with a neat, fenced garden beside it. He rang the small bell hanging at the gate, and called out to the half-open door.
An older woman appeared, dressed in one of the high-waisted, light muslin dresses Kate had seen so much of before they’d headed west. She gave both of them a quick, nervous smile, and held the door for them to come in.
At their entrance, her husband rose from a chair beside the hearth. “Reverend and Mrs. Foster,” Thomas said, “this is my intended, Miss Katarina Gruener.”
Both extended their hands to Kate, and she curtsied and thanked them for their kindness. But she could see the surprise and dismay in their eyes, and her heart was pounding.
Still—she’d faced worse. And just in the past day or two. Straightening, she tucked her hands together before her and tried to keep her expression pleasant.
“Will you sit and take tea?” Mrs. Foster said.
“That would be lovely,” Kate said, and the woman nodded before turning toward the hearth, where a kettle already waited.
Reverend Foster blinked a few times, then firmed his mouth. “What brings you to Maysville then?”
Both Kate and Thomas took a breath and exchanged a glance. He lifted a hand to indicate she should speak—or could, she wasn’t sure which. “My father engaged Thomas as a scout for our recent journey into Kentucky. We traveled with a small party from Bean’s Station up through Cumberland Gap and over Logan’s Trace, nearly to Springfield, when he and I were taken captive. He—escaped to warn my family, it being impossible for me to get away, but then came after, to bring me back. And so we are just lately come from the Shawnee town where I was taken.”
More dismay and not a little astonishment filled the Fosters’ faces. “Poor dear!” Mrs. Foster exclaimed. “How you must have suffered.”
“They…treated me very well, I own,” Kate said. “It was…well…”
She stammered and looked up at Thomas. How much could she reveal?
“It’s all right to tell now,” he said softly.
With a nod, she turned back to the preacher and his wife. “Thomas was a captive for a while, adopted by the Shawnee, before being returned to his white family in Tennessee. The one who took us was as a friend to him during that time, but—though he meant us ill in carrying me back to his town, God worked it for our good, and Thomas’s Indian father showed me kindness on his behalf. They already thought us married, but—”
She felt the blush overtaking her cheeks, and peeked at Thomas again. How to explain precisely how this had happened?
“Ahh.” Reverend Foster rubbed his chin, while his wife laid out her china tea service on the table. He too looked at Thomas. “So. Your wish, based on what you said earlier, is to protect this young woman from untoward speculation. Or—is there more?”
Thomas stood, back straight, hands clasped behind his back. “There’s much more,” he said evenly. “My Shawnee brother took her to begin with because he saw something of the attachment between us. Even though I hadn’t yet spoken.” He smiled a little. “I’ve had permission already from her father to marry her. A command, possibly—” He laughed shortly. “Regardless, if it’s Kate’s wish to wait until she hears that from his own lips, I’m willing to delay, but…she and I both think it advisable to go ahead and marry.”
“And what is your wish, young lady?” Reverend Foster said.
“I’ve no stronger wish than to marry now,” she said firmly, her gaze locked with Thomas’s.
The preacher chuckled. “Well then. Shall we have tea and discuss particulars?”
How strange it was to sit at a table and take tea as if they were in the finest house in Virginia. Even Thomas’s manners were very good as he tucked in beside her and took both cream and sugar and drank. Reverend Foster continued the conversation by asking more about her family, where they planned to settle, and what her father hoped to do there, then chatted with Thomas about the troubles with the Indians and the whiskey tax.
At last they finished their tea, and Reverend Foster cleared his throat. “Very well. Let’s get on with this.”
Thomas slid the blank marriage license across the table to him, and while the preacher skimmed it, Mrs. Foster sat straighter and looked at Kate. “Husband, if Miss Gruener and I could have a few minutes, and… if she would not be offended…”
“What’s that?” her husband said.
“Well, I’d like—that is, a young woman should have a proper dress to be married in.” The older woman’s eyes skimmed Kate’s form. “Not that you aren’t already lovely, or don’t wear the Indian costume well.”
Kate exchanged another glance with Thomas, and he shrugged.
“Come with me,” Mrs. Foster said, rising. “And at least—see.”
Half an hour later, Kate stood staring at herself in the half-length glass Mrs. Foster said they’d brought all the way from Boston. This was not the girl she’d been used to seeing, but a young woman whose slightly hollowed cheeks made her eyes look huge, especially with her hair caught in a knot at the nape of her neck. And the dress—
She smoothed a hand down the skirt of the gown, the deep gold silk rustling under her fingers. Lace ruffles fell from her elbows, and a delicate ruching edged the neckline. The bodice was pinned over a stomacher embroidered with small flowers.
Mrs. Foster stood back, tears shining in her eyes. “I am sorry again for the outdated fashion. But it gladdens my heart to see you put it to use, and it would make my daughter glad as well, were she able to see it. You are a vision, dear girl.”
“My deepest thanks,” Kate murmured. “It’s very kind of you, and I care little for being fashionable or not.”
The older woman had explained that they’d brought the gown with them before the style had changed, and the daughter in question had died of fever just a few years ago. Kate felt touched, and honored, that the woman wished her to have the gown.
“Now—if you wish—these are simply to borrow—”
With a rueful smile, Mrs. Foster lifted out a gorgeous necklace of pearls and tied it about Kate’s neck. Several strands of pearls framed a small cameo. She touched the piece, while Mrs. Foster fastened matching earrings in place.
“There. Now you are ready for Mr. Bledsoe.”
&nb
sp; Mr. Bledsoe. Once merely their scout, now her Thomas.
Heart in her throat, body held stiff by the stays she wore under the gown, Kate let herself be led out to the main room by Mrs. Foster.
There, near the table, stood Thomas. Wearing an obviously borrowed coat, but wearing it well. And—had he taken shears to his hair? For it looked different, somehow, neatly tailed back at his nape with black ribbon. The pale eyes widened, amazement spreading across his face.
“Here is your bride, Mr. Bledsoe,” Mrs. Foster sang out, amid her husband’s effusive praise. Kate spared the older man the barest glance and saw his eyes shining with emotion as well.
Thomas smiled then, an expression of wonder, and came forward to offer his hand. She put hers in it without thought. “I thought you could not be more beautiful,” he breathed. “I was wrong.”
She laughed nervously. “Did you—your hair—”
He turned his head so she could see. Indeed, it was freshly shorn just below the shoulders. “Reverend Foster thought I should dress up a bit as well.” He grinned. “Now I’m glad I did.”
“Do you two wish to marry today, or would you rather simply admire each other?” came the older man’s voice.
Sharing a laugh, both of them blushing a little, Kate took Thomas’s hand more firmly and stepped forward to face the preacher.
Not a morning had been made that was sweeter, nor could the forest be more perfectly beautiful along the northern stretch of Boone’s trace, and Thomas had ridden it enough times to know. But this time he rode it with his wife at his back, more dear to him than he could ever have imagined. ‘Twas their first morning as a fully wedded couple, though they’d left the sanctuary of their little room in the tavern attic reluctantly enough.
The Cumberland Bride Page 23