“Seems I’ve discovered a hidden talent.”
After he finished the row, he slipped her foot out, noting the harsh creases in her stocking, as if the material were embedded in her skin. Once he’d freed both feet, he pulled the creases from her stockings and started rubbing his thumbs along her soles, trying to knead the stiffness away.
The stockings were too slippery, so he peeled those off, and began with her right foot. He hoped to have heard sounds of contentment, but she was crying again. “Does this hurt?”
“No,” she whispered.
She didn’t tell him to stop, so he continued.
They might not ever become husband and wife in truth, but he couldn’t come up with a reason not to help when and where he could. In the past, he had wished he wasn’t single on occasion when an out of reach itch or anything requiring more than two hands presented itself.
Now that he’d married, he’d make everyone suspicious if he called in one of the men to assist him with a splinter.
How many other ways had marrying changed what he could do?
Though feet weren’t the prettiest things on the planet, he couldn’t recall ever seeing a woman’s bare foot before. He definitely had never held one, and her skin against his…
He closed his eyes. Stop thinking, Nolan.
When the first foot relaxed, he glanced up at Corinne to see if he should move to the next.
Her face was more solemn than peaceful.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’d rather not say.”
He stopped rubbing her feet. Was she afraid to tell him to stop?
He was in a position of power right now, on her bed, at night, when she was obviously in debilitating pain. But when she said nothing more, holding his gaze as if she were simply curious, he moved to her other foot.
Once those muscles relaxed, he gently lowered her foot. “Let’s—”
She’d fallen asleep.
Lifting himself off the mattress as gingerly as he could, he took hold of the edge of the quilt she was lying on and wrapped it around her. He pressed his lips against her forehead before he realized what he was doing.
He stilled and pulled away slowly. Her expression remained peaceful.
Seemed a kiss on his wedding day hadn’t been entirely out of the question. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he whispered to her with a grin.
He pulled the quilt farther over but was met with resistance. He frowned. She was on top of all the blankets. He gently tugged on the quilt beneath her, but she was sleeping hard and he hated to wake her.
But leaving the room to gather blankets on a summer evening could clue his cousin into the fact he wasn’t sleeping with his wife.
One good thing about her sleeping heavily was he didn’t have to worry about her watching him take his leg off. He’d not figured out how to do that modestly in front of her or how he could do so elsewhere without arousing suspicion.
Taking coats and sweaters out of his trunk, he made a makeshift pallet on the rug that stuck partway out from under the bed. Probably not enough padding to keep him from waking up sore, but he hadn’t anything else to sleep on.
Groaning, he unstrapped his leg, massaging the spots where the padding had sunk into his flesh like Corinne’s stocking had wrinkled her feet. Taking the liniment from his bedside table, he stopped and frowned. He should’ve massaged this into her feet—or offered it for her hands. Had the doctor given her something similar?
Rubbing the pungent oil into his leg, he noted a raw spot and hopped over to put salt water on it, careful not to hiss too loudly lest he wake her.
After getting ready as best he could, he settled down on the narrow strip of rug. He groaned at the feel of the unforgiving floor beneath him, then arranged the sweaters to cover most of his body.
At least this was only for one night. And knowing he’d be waving goodbye to his cousin first thing in the morning would make all the aches and stiffness worth it.
Chapter Seventeen
Every joint in her body ached, and not just her hands. Corinne fought to stay asleep, knowing mornings only intensified every single sting and prick.
Her eyes fluttered open, but it was still dark. Only a blessing if she could get back to sleep, but her throat was dry. She needed water.
She tried to roll out of bed, but had to wrestle herself out of the cocoon she’d twisted herself up into. Her first foot hit the floor, but the other hit a large bump, throwing her off balance. She reached for the wall, but it wasn’t there. Something clamped around her middle and she yelped.
Her head hit the side table hard, and stars exploded. She whimpered and fell to the floor. When the world stopped moving, she pressed her hands against the hot pain in her head despite the jabbing pinpricks tingling through her fingers. She growled to keep from saying bad words.
“Shhh, shhh.”
Was she shushing herself? Then all of a sudden, she realized what had grabbed her.
She wasn’t home. This was Nolan’s room. His nightstand. There’d been no wall to keep her from falling, and now she was sprawled out on a pile of whatever he’d been lying on beside the bed.
The pounding increased above her brow. She shut her eyes tight and tried hard not to cry.
Harried thumping sounded in the hallway.
“Is everything all right?” a masculine voice called through the door.
She couldn’t stop the next whimper that escaped. Had she gashed her head open?
The doorknob rattled, and suddenly she was encased in warmth as blankets were thrown around her.
Nolan jerked her toward him, and she groaned again since the sudden movement made the stars dance.
The door whined open a crack. “Is everything all right, Miss—uh, Mrs. Key?”
“We’re fine,” came Nolan’s rough voice. “We uh—” He cleared his throat. “We fell out of bed. She hit her head.”
“For Heaven’s sake, you two haven’t gone to sleep yet?” Matt’s voice was full of derision. “I thought you would’ve worn yourselves out hours ago.”
Her tender forehead was already hot, but now her whole body flushed.
She glanced around trying to orient herself, then realized her top wasn’t under the blanket so she pulled the covers up.
Matt was barely visible in the couple of inches the door was open. Had he noticed she was in her shirtwaist buttoned clear up to her neck? Surely he couldn’t see much, but the moonlight…
She held her breath, gritting her teeth against the lessening ache in her head.
“Just uh, keep it down, would ya?” The door closed with a click.
A jerky shudder against her left arm drew her attention away from her mortification.
“Are you laughing?” She hissed at Nolan.
He sputtered out, “Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“I don’t, now, do I?” And then he lay back on the floor and laughed, muffled only by the hand clamped over his mouth.
“My head doesn’t think this is funny.” But even as she said so, she couldn’t keep the amused embarrassment from her voice. “What he must think…”
Nolan laughed harder and clamped a second hand over his mouth. “Imm orree.”
His muted apology only made her give in to her own chuckle, which she immediately regretted. “Oh, my head.” She halfheartedly smacked him with her free hand despite her fingers aching about as much as the throbbing above her eye. “You’re not helping.”
He reached up, making a noticeable effort to curb his amusement. “Here, let me check.”
His laughter died. “That’s quite the bump already.”
Pushing himself up to sit, he pulled her over, his fingers probing gently despite her groans of protestation. “We need light.”
He scrambled awkwardly onto the bed, then leaned over to snatch a blanket from the floor to cover himself, allowing her only a moment’s glimpse of the odd picture of a one-legged man. He lit the bedside lamp then
pulled her up to sit beside him.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured as he pushed the hair gingerly off her face to take a look. “I’d figured sleeping on the rug might put me in danger of being stepped on, but I’d not realized you’d get hurt.”
Corinne couldn’t answer, choosing instead to breathe through the pulsing ache in her head.
“At least you’re not bleeding. I can get ice, but you’ll have to be patient. I’ve got about ten minutes of putting myself back together to do so.”
“No.” The word didn’t jolt her head as badly as she’d expected. “I can do it, just tell me where.”
He shifted. “In case Matt didn’t go back to bed, you shouldn’t go down fully dressed. You’d need to—”
“Oh…” She held her hand against her forehead. The pangs were abating, but ice would reduce the swelling. How was she going to explain this to anybody? Would Matt tell the women?
Her flushed body turned frigid.
“I guess I could use my crutches to go get some ice. They’re under the bed, I think.” Nolan groaned as he slid to the floor, dragging the blankets with him.
“All right.” She curled up on the mattress.
“I’ll return soon and then you can get back to sleep. We’ve got hours before dawn.”
The door clicked shut before she recalled she needed a glass of water. But she’d not holler after him.
How on earth could she possibly fall asleep now? More pain wracked her body, her thirst had grown, and the countless places Nolan had touched her felt cold and warm all at the same time.
And far worse, she’d have to face Matt in the morning.
Chapter Eighteen
Somehow, Nolan kept up a steady stream of banter at the breakfast table as Corinne tried to gag down the porridge she’d prepared. She concentrated on putting spoon to mouth, keeping her eyes from meeting anyone’s.
When Matt had come down while she was stirring oats, she’d sensed exactly when he’d caught sight of her. She could still feel his cold gaze despite her refusal to look at him all morning.
Miss Mortimer and Miss Flower had shown up next, and they’d been unusually quiet. Matt surely wouldn’t have been so crass as to share with the ladies what had happened last night. But since her falling out of bed had made enough noise to cause Matt to come check, what might they have overheard?
Corinne reached up to ensure her hair lay across her forehead. She hadn’t been able to completely hide the greenish-purple knot over her right eyebrow.
Neither woman had asked how she’d acquired her goose egg.
“Pass me another apple, Miss Flower.” Lilith had refused porridge, sighing loudly over having to make do with fruit.
Not that Corinne could blame her. The gloopy mass had congealed into something wholly unappetizing.
“So,” Nolan said. “How’s Uncle doing?”
She felt Matt’s probing gaze lift off her to answer Nolan.
Corinne sprinkled more cinnamon onto her breakfast, then slid the shaker toward Miss Flower. The mousy young woman seemed to be having a hard time forcing down her breakfast as well.
“Can I get you more milk?” Corinne whispered to Miss Flower.
The young lady shook her head, but smiled her appreciation for the offer. Corinne took her own cup and headed to the ice chest, needing something to do other than stir her unpalatable porridge again.
Matt pushed his half-eaten breakfast to the center of the table. “I doubt Father will believe the news of your wedding. When did you two become interested in each other, exactly?”
Corinne fumbled her cup, the clatter loud against the countertop.
“Uh, it’s hard to say.” For the first time this morning, Nolan’s voice wavered. “We’ve known each other for some time.”
“But how?” Lilith scoffed, shaking her head, muttering something that might have included the word riffraff.
Matt’s eyes narrowed at Corinne. “Do you know how he lost his leg?”
She turned to face him, but what should she say? If they’d been in love, they would’ve discussed it. She forced her chin to stay up. “I, uh, never asked.”
“So you don’t know?”
She threw a wide-eyed look at Nolan. Was she stepping into some sort of trap? “No, cousin, I don’t.”
“But why wouldn’t—”
“That’s enough, Matt.” Nolan’s chair screeched against the planks as he pushed away from the table. “Don’t badger my wife.”
A thunk of metal against wood startled them all.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Miss Flower snatched both her and Lilith’s napkins. On the floor beside her chair was the creamer, glugging its thick cool contents onto the floor.
“How could you be so clumsy, Miss Flower?” Lilith frowned as she scanned the table. “Now what am I going to do for a napkin?”
Corinne crossed back to the table, trying to keep herself from glaring at Lilith. She grabbed Nolan’s napkin and her own.
“Please, don’t worry about it, Mrs. Key. I’ll get it.” Miss Flower had rescued the creamer and was now blotting the floor. “I’m so sorry about all this.”
Corinne kneeled beside her and laid a hand on Miss Flower’s back, hoping to stay her frantic movements. “You don’t need to be sorry. Accidents happen.”
“Of course, of course.” She sniffled, but then, as if her brain had a snap of clarity, she gave Corinne a soft, yet intense look.
So she’d dropped the creamer on purpose?
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Key,” she whispered.
Corinne nodded to let her know she understood. “I’m sorry, too.” More for how financially bad off this woman had to be to put up with Lilith’s treatment.
Picking up the now empty creamer, Corinne fortified herself with a deep breath, happy to hear the men’s conversation had returned to the trite chatter they’d started out with. Pushing off her knees, she stood and took the soggy napkins from Miss Flower.
“I’m afraid what I told you yesterday about our plans has changed,” Matt said. “The women are still going on the afternoon train, but I’ll be staying.”
Nolan dropped his fork and it clattered off the table. “Might I ask why?” Her husband’s teeth barely parted to ask that question. A vein on the right side of his forehead popped up.
Corinne wanted to disappear, but instead, walked to the sink to deposit the sopping wet cloths. How much longer must she endure his presence and frigid glares?
“As you know,” Matt’s voice was cool. “My heart’s always been set on ranching. Your father knew that, hence why he was going to leave me the place. So I intend to inquire after land. I’ve plenty of money to buy a ranch outright. I don’t need this one.”
“You should check for places closer to Denver.” Nolan’s tone was barely civil.
“Considering the debacle with your former mayor, I think I can find a good ranch around here for cheap.”
“Why not go home with your girl and let me keep an ear open for you?”
Matt patted him on the arm. “Thank you, but I can see to it myself. Plus, I won’t force Lilith to stay here with—” He coughed and looked away. “Well, she’d be more comfortable back home.”
Nolan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Bowen’s taking his time, trying his best to get the land his father stole back into the right hands. It’s not as if any of those places are up for sale right now.”
“I’m sensing you don’t want me to stay, cousin. Why’s that?”
“Stay as long as you like—in the bunkhouse. I’m only trying to save you from wasting time.” Nolan’s chair screeched back. “Corinne, would you like to take a walk?”
Her hands stilled and she blinked at how he was scowling at her, though the scowl couldn’t be meant for her. She nodded and washed her hands—she’d do anything to escape, too.
“Come.” Nolan held out his hand, and she slipped her clammy one into his.
As soon as the door slammed behind them, Nolan released her and stal
ked off toward the barn as if he’d forgotten her the second he let go.
“Nolan?”
He turned but didn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t take him anymore.”
“I understand.” She scurried after him. “Do you think he’ll actually stay in the bunkhouse?”
“I won’t give him a choice. Hopefully that means he’ll change his mind about staying. If he doesn’t, he’ll still be in the house more than we’d like him to be, I’m sure.”
Nolan was practically shaking. If they survived this morning with Matt around, they’d survive a few more. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Maybe you could walk me out to the cabin you put my things in? I could work on setting it to rights while you go for a ride.”
He exhaled forcefully. “A ride wouldn’t help me, but I can take you to the cabin. My desire to strangle him should fizzle out by the time we get there.” He gave her a lopsided grin and held out his arm, as he had the day he’d walked her to the hotel’s restaurant. Though this time, her heart wasn’t about to burst out of her chest at what she was contemplating doing, but what she’d already done.
Surely once Matt left, things would settle into a routine that would feel more normal. What she needed to do was forget all about the dynamics of how this unusual partnership should play out and get to work. “Do you have any books on ranching I could read? I don’t want to end up as bad at it as you say Matt is.”
“I think you’d have to try really hard to accomplish that.” He started them down a path that wandered away from the back of the house. “I don’t have any books, though. Most learn by doing, but I have some battered copies of The Prairie Farmer in the rolltop desk if you’d like to flip through them. There’s not much on ranching, but I’m sure you could glean something from them.”
“Thank you.” And there’d be no flipping about it. She’d study them front to back, and if they didn’t explain enough, she’d purchase a subscription.
Over by the fence line, a familiar-looking, gangly young man ambled along. Nolan’s dog followed at his heels.
She squinted. The dark, limp hair. The worn clothing. “Is that Timothy O’Conner?”
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