by Alix West
He leaned down, to look her square in the eye. “Hand it over.”
“Hand what over?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Rolling her eyes, she tugged the purse from her shirt.
He shook her, not hard, but firmly. “You’re done with all that.”
“Fine. Can we forget it?”
“Let me tell you something, I don’t ever forget. When we get home, you’re going to pick up every rock in the corral.”
Justine stared in disbelief. “That will take a month.”
“At least. And you’re going to haul them to the back of the barn. But before we leave, you’re marching back in there and apologizing to Miss Clarice.”
She drew a breath as if to argue, but thought better of it. He pushed her back into the saloon, and accompanied her to Clarice’s gaming table. David was gone. Probably consoling himself with one of the saloon’s girls. Justine handed the purse back and mumbled an apology.
Clarice’s brows lifted. “Why you little scamp.”
Nick would have preferred Clarice hadn’t sounded so admiring of Justine’s thievery. He muttered a gruff good-bye and nudged the girl toward the door. They returned to the buckboard to find Cora sitting on the seat.
“Told you,” Justine muttered.
“You better watch it,” Nick snapped. “I got plenty of chores with your name on them, young lady.”
Chapter Eleven
Cora
They spoke little on the way home. Nick and Justine chatted briefly about a bull they passed, but Cora didn’t pay much attention to the exchange. Instead she seethed with fury and humiliation. Ever since Nick discovered she was David Tarrant’s mail-ordered bride, he’d disparaged the man. He had even gone so far as to mock her for believing his references.
Now she knew that he’d been right all along. If anything, he’d understated David’s failings. That fact didn’t lessen her mortification. He had taken her into a brothel to throw the facts in her face. To add insult to injury, Nick had paid David. For her. Nick had assumed she now belonged to him, and in the middle of a house of ill repute, had paid for her.
And what did that mean, exactly? Did he intend to keep her, like one of his horses? To do with as he pleased? His own little harlot? When her mind filled with thoughts of being at Nick’s beck and call, she shivered, with anger, but also with desire. The strange and unwelcome response angered her even more.
As they drew close to the Travis property, panic flooded her mind.
“What now?” she blurted.
Both Justine and Nick regarded her with surprise.
“Do you intend to carry me off, like some sort of barbarian with his prize?”
The words tumbled from her lips. She hadn’t intended to say anything so crude in front of Justine. The girl grimaced and recoiled, but Nick simply smiled.
“I hadn’t planned on that,” he said. “I want to ask for your hand and have a wedding sometime soon. But that other thing sounds good too.”
“A wedding? Soon?” She probably sounded shrill. Anytime she became agitated, it became difficult to modulate her speech.
Nick pulled back on the reins and brought the horses to a halt. “I wanted to make things nice for you. I thought you might want something romantic.”
“I’m a realist. Not a romantic. I won’t remain in your home if we’re not properly married.”
He arched a brow.
Cora scarcely breathed. The ultimatum came from nowhere. Perhaps it came from the remnants of her pride. David probably still didn’t know about her shortcomings, how she couldn’t hear. Nick did, however, and he knew far more. He’d pulled her from the churning floodwaters. He’d stripped her from her sodden clothes, forcing her into a state of undress. And he’d humiliated her in front of a throng of drunken cowboys and harlots as her intended rejected her without as much as a word of argument.
She waited for what seemed an eternity.
Finally, he nodded. “I figured most women would like that sort of thing.”
“I’m not most women,” she snapped. “My circumstances necessitate me to be practical. I’m not some starry-eyed girl. Besides, I want to be certain that Justine has a stable home. A family to take care of her.”
Justine waved to get her attention. “Quit talking like I’m not here. I can take care of myself. I want you to marry him, but I’m not some charity case. I don’t like it when people feel sorry for me. Makes me mad.”
Nick’s eyes darkened. His lips pressed into a grim, hard look of ire. “Fine by me. We’ll go say the vows right now, if you like. The pastor of our town’s church lives up ahead. What do you say we get this out of the way?”
She nodded. “All right.”
His mouth curved into a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, she noted. His eyes glittered for an instant with an expression she hadn’t seen before.
“Well, I’m glad you trust me so much, Cora. Makes me feel all warm inside.”
He snapped the reins and put the horses into a trot. She hadn’t imagined her words would anger him. Wasn’t she supposed to be the indignant and wounded person? Glancing at Justine, she was met with a look of disgust. The girl rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Cora turned away, feeling injured by both Nick and Justine.
They turned off the road and up a worn path. When they reached the home at the end of the trail, Nick stopped the horses, set the brake and climbed down. As he ascended the porch steps, he removed his cowboy hat and raked his fingers through his hair.
He was trying to make himself a little more presentable. The realization made a slow wash of self-consciousness come over her. She was about to marry Nick. The moment she had imagined for months had arrived, but not with this man, and not in this circumstance.
Neither of them were dressed in anything special. If anything, she looked grubbier than he did. Yesterday she’d been wearing this very dress when she’d fallen in the river. Not so long ago, it had been one of her finest frocks, the sapphire blue contrasting with her red hair in a way that always garnered compliments. Smudges of river mud and a torn hem made the dress look decidedly less elegant.
The door of the small home opened. Nick spoke to a man for a few moments. The pastor, gray-haired and slightly stooped, peered at Cora and Justine. He nodded and gestured for them to come inside. Nick returned to the wagon.
“Pastor Phillips can marry us. Right now.”
His words were perfunctory. While he didn’t regard her with the same icy look of a few moments before, his eyes had none of the usual warmth. She nodded, her heart in her throat, and let him lift her down. When he tried to help Justine, she swatted his hands away and jumped down on her own.
The pastor invited them inside his home. The aroma of his lunch wafted through the air. The savory smell reminded Cora of the corned beef her mother had made in springtime. If her stomach hadn’t been tied in knots, she might have enjoyed the aroma. The three of them followed the pastor into his study. A desk littered with papers sat under a window.
“I was in the middle of writing my Sunday sermon,” he said, capping a small bottle of ink. He turned and smiled at them. “But I’m always happy to set that aside to join a couple in matrimony.”
“I can’t hear,” she blurted out nervously. “But I can read lips.”
He shrugged. “That’s fine, dear. You can ask if you’d like me to repeat myself.”
“You knew from the beginning, didn’t you?” she asked Nick.
“Pretty early on. Makes no difference.”
“I wanted to be clear. That’s all.”
Nick set his jaw. “Don’t tell me you told David, because I won’t believe you.”
“I didn’t. I couldn’t. I came with the hope that he’d accept me anyway. And perhaps, one day even forgive me.”
Nick shook his head, his eyes blazing with dark fury. He seemed suddenly bigger and taller and twice as fearsome as before. She’d done nothing but make him angry that day a
nd here they were standing before a man of God, about to say their vows. He looked like he was about to erupt.
“You,” he pointed at her, “do not need to ask for forgiveness. Not from anyone. I don’t ever want to hear you say that word again.”
She recoiled, but he snatched her hands and pulled her back. He held her firmly, glaring as if daring her to argue. Saying nothing, she blinked back the sting of tears.
“Well, well, well, I always like to see couples argue with such passion,” the pastor said, with a friendly smile. “It’s the basis of a good marriage. That’s what I say. Don’t sweep things under the rug.”
He opened a small book bound in soft worn leather and leafed through the pages. When he found what he was seeking, he smiled at them, looking at them over his spectacles. He spoke for some time, but Cora’s mind was in too much turmoil to make out his words. She’d come all this way to marry a Texas rancher, one named David, not Nick. Yet, she yearned for him with a certainty that both comforted her and frightened her.
When the pastor got to her part, he looked up and prompted her to say the words.
“I do,” she murmured.
He nodded and went on. A moment later, Nick turned her to face him and she watched him say the words. He spoke slowly, deliberately, his eyes lit with a possessive fervor that stole her breath. Releasing her hand, he stepped closer. He lifted her chin and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. The touch of his lips to hers sent a shudder down her body.
He broke the kiss and smiled. “You better believe me now, Mrs. Travis.”
Chapter Twelve
Nick
When he finished caring for the horses, the sun had begun its westward descent. He returned to the house to find it quiet. He imagined her upstairs, cowering in her room, terrified of her wedding night. He felt a pang of sympathy, but then recalled the way she’d suspected he would dishonor her. If she was worried, she had only herself to blame. He’d been perfectly happy to take his time, but no. She hadn’t believed he would care for her and respect her. He looked through the house and found Justine in the library sorting through his books, but she was alone.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting your books away. On the shelves, so you can find them.”
Books filled the top shelf and she’d already started on the next row.
“When the books are put away, you will be able to sit on the chairs,” she added. Holding up a plate, she pretended to offer it to him. “Are you hungry? I found this.”
A withered apple core sat beside what looked like a biscuit. Maybe a cracker.
He grinned and took the plate. “Thank you, I’m starved. You know how to do all this? Organize a man’s library?”
She picked up a book and ran her fingers over the cover. “I do. I grew up in an orphanage that had a school and a library.”
He almost chuckled at her mention of ‘growing up’. She was so small and delicate and so far from being grown up. Yet, there was something about the girl that made her seem wiser than her years. The way she quietly observed things, he was certain she understood most matters better than most children her age.
“Why did you run away, Justine?”
She looked up from the book with a surprised expression. For a moment he regretted the question. Too much. Too soon. Who knew what the girl had been through. He had no business asking a prying question when he barely knew her.
She set the book down on the table. “The husband and wife who ran the orphanage got too old to manage. They hired a new couple and I didn’t like them. They really didn’t like me. So, I left.”
“When?”
“Last year. Christmas Eve.”
“Christmas Eve? In Boston?”
“Thereabouts.”
He frowned at her evasive answer. “You don’t need to worry, Justine. I’m not shipping you back, even if I thought I could.”
“I like it here,” she whispered the words, and the look of yearning in her eyes caught him off-guard.
“Good,” he said gruffly. “Cora’s attached to you and I like having you here too. You don’t need to worry about money anymore. I have enough to take care of you. Understand?”
“All right,” she said with a morose tone.
“Where’s Cora? Upstairs? Hiding?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Some ladies were here, waiting. They’re outside helping her with the clothing that fell in the river.”
“All right. I’ll find them.” He gestured toward the tidy shelves. “Looks nice, thank you, Justine.”
She turned away and resumed her work. He marveled that she’d taken the task on without any instruction from him or Cora. While he never minded the disorder in his home, he could see that a little care made a big difference. He left the library and went to the back porch. There he found Laura and Charlotte helping Cora wash her dresses.
“This is a nice surprise,” he said, greeting each sister-in-law with a kiss on the cheek.
“They came to talk to you about a mail-order bride,” Cora said with a mocking smile. “I didn’t know you had matchmakers trying to marry you off.”
She stood over a washtub, her sleeves pushed up and her hands submerged beneath a cloud of bubbles. Her eyes sparked with bemusement. A wisp of hair had fallen loose. Her lips, curved into a smile, made him want another kiss and a thousand other wicked things. He was so struck by the sight of her, there on his porch, engaged in such a domestic task, he found it impossible to reply.
Her smile faltered. “I was teasing, Nick.”
“Right,” he said.
“He resisted us at every turn,” Charlotte said. “He wanted us to leave him in peace and said he wanted to live alone, like some, solitary, growling bear.”
“A bear with furniture,” Laura added. The women laughed at Laura’s comment.
Nick leaned against a nearby beam. “I’m not going to bother arguing. I know when I’m outnumbered.”
The women worked steadily. Soon the line drooped with the weight of Cora’s dresses and lacy underthings. The stockings fluttered in the breeze. The women grumbled about putting laundry out overnight, but it couldn’t be helped. The gowns had already lain wet for over a day and if they weren’t washed soon, they would begin to mold.
When they were done, Cora went inside and brought Justine out to meet Charlotte and Laura. The girl answered their questions with a pained look on her face, unused to the intense scrutiny. To Nick’s surprise, she agreed to let Charlotte measure her, so she could make her a few dresses. He eyed her short, boyish haircut. She must have cut it with a dull knife. No two strands were the same length.
Charlotte and Laura set off for home a little before dusk. Nick offered to drive them in the buckboard, but they wouldn’t hear of it. The walk was less than a mile and would do them good, they insisted.
“I need to walk every day,” Charlotte said. “Everyone says walking helps with delivery.”
With Charlotte and Laura gone, the house seemed quiet, yet peaceful. Once again, Nick and Cora and Justine ate a dinner that Laura and Charlotte had brought. They’d left a basket in the kitchen with a crock of savory chicken and dumplings.
Justine lit candles and set out dishes, while Cora unpacked the food.
“I can cook,” Cora said quietly. “None of my friends back in Boston know how, but I do.”
“Your friends don’t know how to cook?” Justine asked.
“They have cooks. They have servants for everything. They don’t even polish their own shoes.”
Justine snorted. “Neither do I.”
The time passed amiably. Cora spoke of her home and her parents, touching lightly on her illness. Nick would have liked to ask more, but refrained, sensing how difficult the subject was for her to discuss. Justine spoke of the kindly couple who had run the orphanage, and how much life had changed when they left.
Nick talked mostly about the ranch and the young animals on the way. Over the next few months, the cows would have
their calves. Several mares would foal. Noting the way Cora’s and Justine’s eyes lit with interest, he added a final bit about his barn cats.
“I haven’t seen Lucky or any of the others in about a week. I’m pretty sure they’re somewhere in the hayloft waiting on a batch of kittens.”
“Are you going to keep them?” Justine asked.
“Lucky’s the best mouser in Colter Canyon. Usually I give a couple to Seth and a couple to Will. But if you like, I’ll let you have the pick of the litter.”
Justine’s smiled at the prospect of a kitten. “I’ve never had a cat. Or a dog.”
“Mind you stay away from the cows when they have a little one. The mares too. They’re apt to be skittish.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I just want to see the kittens.”
“Any day now, those barn cats will come around to show off their little ones.”
Justine grinned and seemed to be overcome with the notion of a tiny kitten. After dinner, she took a lamp and returned to the library to work on the task she’d taken on. Alone with Cora, Nick reached across the table to wrap his hand around hers.
She flinched, but didn’t pull away.
“Charlotte and Laura want to have a party in honor of our wedding,” she said.
“I figured as much. I’m surprised they didn’t give me a world of grief for getting married without them present. They’ve kind of decided I’m their little brother.”
“But you’re older than them.”
“Try explaining that to Laura and Charlotte.”
“They said we’re not really, officially married until we’ve broken bread with them.”
He arched a brow. “I see where this is going. You’re telling me I shouldn’t get my hopes up for a wedding night tonight?”
She gave him a prim look. “It would give us a few days to become acquainted.”
He growled softly, resisted the urge to remind her that he saw her bare naked after he’d known her a whole, entire hour. He forced himself to agree. “Up to you entirely. You know where to find me.”
“Find you?”
“If you get lonesome.”