by Laura Drewry
But it couldn’t be just the will of a mere human who caused this odd feeling in her stomach; a gnawing twist, making her doubt everything about herself.
No, it had to be Deacon. His presence always threw her into an upheaval and now was no different. In fact, it was worse. He not only had control of Sam, but he was using Maggie, too, wheedling his way into her mind.
And so far, an entire day into her plan, Deacon was winning.
Pushing it all aside, Lucy pulled her blanket around her shoulders and stepped out into the early morning air.
Jed stood next to the fire – one he’d built himself instead of forcing Lucy to do it. From the dark circles under his eyes and the frown on his lips, he must not have slept any better than she did.
He tipped his head in a short nod. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” she lied. Sleeping on that pile of straw was about as comfortable as sleeping on a porcupine, but she wouldn’t let him know that. He needed to think everything was wonderful. The sooner he believed that, the faster she’d win him over - and the faster she’d be free.
“Fine like supper was fine?” He grinned slowly. “Or fine like. . .well. . .fine?” Dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin, and his eyes darted near her, beside her, but never actually looked directly at her.
She couldn’t blame him. After all, she’d spent the night being poked and jabbed by wayward pieces of straw, had been woken up five times by the horses snorting and carrying on, and then hadn’t the necessary items to wash up with before stumbling out of the barn.
“I can sleep anywhere,” she said with what she hoped was a smile and not a grimace.
“You proved that well enough last night.” His soft chuckle floated through the surrounding quiet. When she frowned, he went on. “You fell asleep out here on the ground.”
Lucy tightened the blanket around her arms, trying to ward off the cool morning air. Jed wore the same shirt as yesterday, untucked and hanging half-buttoned, his sleeves rolled to the elbow. He couldn’t possibly be warm enough.
Moving closer, she nudged against him until he settled his left arm around her shoulders.
“This is where I wanted to fall asleep.”
Jed stiffened slightly. “Right.” His voice sounded rather strangled, but his arm tightened around her for a moment before he let it fall back to his side, leaving a cold yawning space between them.
“So – are you ready to learn how to make coffee?” He stepped farther away and reached to toss a few more chips on the fire.
No. She was ready for a proper bed, a big feather one with a thick down quilt. Or better yet – a hot bath and a clean dress, preferably silk.
“Can I clean up first?”
“No.”
“No?” Lucy gaped. “But look at me – I’m disgusting.”
Though he didn’t look up at her, Jed’s brow shot up as he blew a low breath across his bottom lip.
“I have looked at you,” he muttered. “And you’re even more beautiful this morning than you were last night.”
An unfamiliar warmth trickled through Lucy’s veins, but she ignored it. This was good, this was very good. Jed was already turning her way, and she hadn’t done a thing.
“Well, now.” She stepped next to him, folded her hand in his, and smiled up into his blushing face. “That’s the best thing a girl can hear first thing in the morning, even if it is a lie.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed twice before he looked back at her. “I won’t lie to you, Lucy. Ever.”
Shocked into silence, she couldn’t think of what to say. He couldn’t possibly think she looked beautiful. Beneath this hideous blanket, her dress – still filthy from the previous day’s work – was wrinkled and bunched in the most unappealing way possible. Her hair couldn’t look any better and her mouth tasted worse than last night’s supper, if that was at all possible.
Lucy forced herself back to reality. Jed might not lie, but she would if need be. Fortunately, at the moment, it wasn’t necessary.
“Thank you, Jed.” She pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.
Their eyes barely met before he looked away.
She slid up against him, belly to belly, and wrapped her blanket around both of them.
“Lucy. . .” Jed’s voice was barely a whisper now. “We can’t.”
“Mmmm,” she chuckled. “I think we can.”
Strong fingers squeezed her upper arms for a heartbeat before pushing her back. “No.”
Ugh – he couldn’t be more infuriating. Last night he’d bent to his desires, though only for a moment. This morning, he was back to his old stubborn self; back to being a wall of no’s.
She needed to keep Jed moving in one direction, but obviously she was going to have to make that happen with several different angles.
“Fine,” she pouted, taking a step back. “Then let’s get started on that coffee lesson.”
Jed’s shoulders relaxed as he sighed. He held up a tubular-shaped pot with a spout and instructed, “Fill it with water, to just under the spout.” He poured water from one of the buckets into the pot, tipping it slightly to show her where he’d filled to. “Then you set it over the fire to boil.”
He hung the coffeepot from the spit over the fire, then sat Indian style on the ground and reached for the bag of beans.
“Shouldn’t those go in the water?” So far it didn’t seem like she’d been too wrong last night.
His mouth twitched, his eyes crinkled, but he didn’t laugh – at least not out loud.
“We need to grind them first.”
“Grind them? Really?” Her cheeks heated at the realization of her error, and at how he’d guzzled two cups of the bean-filled brew. “Oops.”
Jed held up an odd looking contraption and nodded briefly. “Coffee grinder.”
The grinder was a small wooden box, with a drawer on the front and a black metal bowl on the top. Sticking out of the middle of the bowl was a long thin handle with a knob on the end. As Lucy watched, Jed poured beans into the bowl, set it in his lap and began cranking the handle.
Lucy stepped closer and peered into the bowl. Sure enough – the beans were being ground down until they disappeared through a tiny hole in the bottom of the bowl. When the last bean’s pieces slipped out of sight, Jed set the grinder next to him and slid out the drawer.
“Smell that,” he said, lifting it toward her nose.
Lucy jumped back, twisting her head away from the odd stench. “Yuck.”
“Best smell in the world,” Jed chuckled. A flash of something – regret? – crossed his eyes as he stared at her, then disappeared.
“If you say so.” Fighting against the need to shiver, she moved closer to the fire. If it meant she’d warm up, she might even consider drinking a cup of this revolting concoction herself. “Now what?”
“We wait for the water to boil.”
“I hate waiting.” Another oops – she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Jed grinned up at her. “Patience is a virtue, Lucy.”
“Yes,” she agreed with a sigh. She’d been called a lot of things in her life, but virtuous was never one of them. “And you’re probably wishing you’d taken one of those virtuous women from the auction yesterday instead of letting Miss Blake guilt you into buying me.”
Jed rose to his feet slowly, his grin gone, his face stern and tight.
“Nobody guilted me into anything.” His jaw tightened, then eased just enough for him to add, “I chose you for my own reasons, not because of anything Miss Blake said.”
“Then why?” She probably didn’t want to know the answer, but since it obviously made him uncomfortable, she needed to hear him say it aloud; pride be damned.
“Because.” He licked his lips and watched her for a long moment before he continued. “You were trying too hard to be something you’re not.”
“What do you mean?”
Jed tugged the blanket out of Lucy’s hands and let it fall to the ground. Before she could
grab for it, he had both her hands in his.
“This.” He turned her hands over, palms up.
“What--” She tried to pull back, but he held her fast.
“These are not the hands of the spoiled princess you wanted me to think you were.” His thumb brushed over the large callous beneath her index finger and then moved over the others. A long shiver worked up her spine, but it wasn’t from the cold. In fact, this was the warmest she’d felt since leaving the auction yesterday.
Jed continued to smooth his thumbs over her palms, working slow circles across every inch.
“These are the hands of someone who’s known hard work.” His voice lowered. “These are the hands of someone who’s proud enough to hide her hardships.”
Lucy forced an indifferent snort. “Yes, well, you know what they say – pride cometh before the fall.”
Jed ignored her. “These are the hands of the woman I want working with me.”
“But--”
“No buts.” Her curled her hand inside his own and smiled down at her, but it wasn’t a happy smile. Worry and concern reflected through his dark eyes.
As Lucy released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, guilt gnawed at her. For all his honorable and righteous ways, Jedidiah Caine was impossible to dislike – and that wasn’t making her job any easier.
She wouldn’t fail. She wouldn’t.
Blinking hard, she tossed her ratty hair over her shoulder and offered him what she hoped was a bright smile.
“So once the water boils. . .”
A small frown puckered Jed’s forehead until he caught up with her change of subject.
“Right. The water.” He released her hands and turned back to the fire. “Lift the pot off the fire, and add the grounds to the water.”
“How much?” Her voice felt jittery, almost nervous. Why did she get so jumpy every time Jed touched her?
He glanced back at the full drawer of grounds and shrugged. “I’ve never measured,” he admitted. “But you can never make it too strong for me, so that’s not a worry.”
Obviously he still hoped her cooking skills would get better.
Stupid man.
“Stir it up,” he continued. “Then let it sit for a couple minutes.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “Is that it?”
“Not quite.”
Lucy fought back a groan. The more instructions he gave her, the more likely she was to forget them. Still, he kept talking.
“Set it back over the fire and let it boil again. You might have to stir it some more to push the grounds down.”
Boil it, stir it, she could do that.
“How long does it boil?”
“Couple minutes.”
“Right. Then it’s ready?”
“Not quite.”
Lucy let out a loud sigh. “What now?”
He motioned toward the bucket of fresh water beside the fire. “Just before you serve it, pour a little bit of cold water in the pot and you’re done.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and fisted her free hand against her hip. “You’re telling me I’m supposed to boil this. . .mud. . .twice, and then once it’s good and hot, I’m supposed to dump cold water in it?”
He grinned. “Cold water helps the grounds settle.”
He pushed to his feet and nodded toward the pot of water, which had yet to boil the first time. “Make sense?”
No.
“Of course.” What was she supposed to do once the water boiled?
“Good. I’ll start on the chores then.” He headed toward the barn, then stopped and turned back, a mischievous grin on his face. “Suppose this means I shouldn’t hope for eggs or biscuits for breakfast?”
“You can hope all you like.”
o0o
With the animals tended, Jed spent a few minutes at the creek ridding himself of yesterday’s dirt and sweat. And yes, trying to wash away some of the confusion clouding his brain.
Unlike Maggie, Lucy was difficult and trying, but she was also candid and direct, and despite everything, she had made an honest effort to help.
Maggie was usually mild tempered and agreeable, Lucy was anything but. Both were beautiful women, but in vastly different ways. Maggie’s was a gentle, womanly beauty, the kind that made a man want to protect her, shelter her. Lucy’s had a strength behind it that demanded attention. She didn’t need to be taken care of and she had no need of a protector.
Even wrinkled and filthy, there was something about Lucy that drew Jed to her. He hadn’t expected it, and though it was a good thing, it also scared him to death.
Strangest damned thing.
He was supposed to be focused on helping Maggie. Instead, he was thinking about his new wife and how much he’d like to . . .
Jed pushed his head under the water and held it there til his lungs threatened to pop.
There was no denying it. A day into their marriage and he already liked his wife. It was more than just a physical need – though that was strong enough on its own. He liked that she didn’t need to be protected, she didn’t need a man to survive. He liked that she had opinions and she wasn’t afraid to express them.
And he very much liked the idea that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
If only she could learn to like him, too.
Jed walked back toward the house cleansed of dirt and grime, but still thick with need.
Long before he saw it, he smelled it. Strong coffee – really strong coffee - or some variation of it, anyway. He’d given her instruction, so how bad could it be? No matter – it would be hot and that was the main thing.
Lucy stepped out of the barn as he walked up. Her face had been scrubbed, her hair brushed back, and though she was wearing the other new day dress they’d bought, it seemed to have fallen under the same knife as the first one.
“I smell coffee,” he said, grinning broadly. “My mouth’s been watering the whole way back from the creek.”
Lucy’s eyes flew wide. Her mouth opened, then slammed shut as she hurried toward the fire.
A long groan worked its way up Jed’s throat, but he choked it back. She’d added the grounds to the pot, then put it back on to boil and promptly forgotten about it. Brown water bubbled out the top of the pot and sizzled against the dancing flames.
Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “I just went in to get cleaned up a little and . . .”
“That’s okay,” Jed struggled to get out. “I like it strong, remember? And it’ll be good ‘n hot, too.”
Before he could stop her, Lucy lifted the pot from the fire, scooped a mug full of cold water from the bucket and dumped it inside the pot.
Least it used to be hot.
She retrieved the mug from beside the water bucket, filled it to the rim with what started out as coffee, and held it toward him.
The first small sip sent his taste buds running for their lives.
“How is it?” she asked, her face full of nervous anticipation.
He took another sip in the hopes the first had simply been off. Nope. The first sip had actually been better.
“It’s, uh. . .” he hesitated long enough to take another sip. Not because he wanted to, but because his own words were kicking him in his conscience.
I won’t lie to you, Lucy. Ever.
He nodded briefly before answering. “It’s not the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted.”
The smile that lit Lucy’s face was enough to make him down two full cups of the cold, thin, murky substance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Over the next several days, things hadn’t improved. Nothing Lucy cooked or boiled tasted as it should, and Maggie hadn’t set foot outside the cabin, despite Jed’s continued pleas.
“I’m going to town today,” he said over Lucy’s latest disaster of breakfast. “Maggie’s agreed to let Miss Blake come and stay with her.”
“Miss Blake? From the auction?” What was this odd fear that suddenly ripped through Lucy’s veins? “Why her?”
“She promised she’d help if I needed it.” Jed’s frown deepened. “And God knows we need it.”
“I think she meant with me.”
“I know,” he agreed quietly. “But she’s our only hope. If she won’t come, Maggie’s going to starve herself and that baby.”
He downed the rest of his coffee, set the mug by the water buckets, and offered Lucy a weary smile.
“I should be back by early afternoon.”
Something in Lucy’s heart twinged, but she dismissed it. This was her chance to prove her worth to him, to make him respect her, maybe even like her.
While he was in town, she’d work like a madwoman. If that didn’t prove something to him, what would?
Half an hour later, he climbed up on the bench of the wagon and steered the horses toward town. The dust hadn’t even begun to settle before Lucy set to work.
Dishes were scrubbed and stacked near the fire, since she couldn’t put them away inside the cabin. The blanket, which now served as their outside table, was shaken out, repositioned, and secured with the largest rocks she could find. Then she set to work on the wash.
How could something so simple be so exhausting?
She plunged Jed’s shirt back into the wash bucket, scrubbed it over the board again, leaving the top layer of her knuckles behind as she did.
This was almost as bad as. . .no, it wasn’t. She pushed her hair back from her eyes and cursed the shirt, the board and the man who’d dirtied the clothes in the first place.
And even as she worked to clean this shirt, she’d no doubt have to wash his other one tomorrow. Lucy bent back over the wash tub, dunked the whole shirt into the water, lifted it out and did it all over again. Why wouldn’t the soap come off?
With a long sigh, she wrung the shirt between her hands, shook it out, then hung it next to Jed’s trousers and her other ugly dress.
Blood oozed from her scraped knuckles and her back ached from the constant bending, but she couldn’t stop. She had to keep working; the more she accomplished in his absence, the happier he’d be.
Consequently, the happier she’d be.