The Lassoed by Marriage Romance Collection

by Bell, Angela; Breidenbach, Angela; Carter, Lisa

  The men took turns shaking Jack’s hand, actually looking like they were congratulating him. As they walked off, Jack strolled to her with the jubilant smile no longer on his face.

  He stopped in front of her. “Where’s the buggy?”

  “I sent Byers on to the house so he would be spared the task of cleaning the dirt we would certainly leave behind on the seats.” She released a weary sigh. “Why are you looking at me like I am a rash for which you must determine the degree of infectiousness?”

  His lips twitched. “Something like that. After you,” he said, motioning to the street.

  She acquiesced.

  He took the parasol and briefcase from her. Clearly lost in his own thoughts, he said nothing more as he held the parasol over her head. They left the depot and walked in the direction of the Swayze house. A wagon and two buggies rolled past at a snail’s pace. Gossip traveled, it seemed, as fast as the afternoon breeze. The drivers and passengers gawked at the unusual sight of a Davies walking with a Kent. No, not just walking with a Kent. Walking with the one she’d agreed to marry despite her parents’ and brothers’ objections. Despite Jack’s grandmother’s objections. Despite Hiram’s objections.

  Despite her own.

  Jack hadn’t shown one inkling of an objection or doubt. Unlike her, he—in his blond-haired, blue-eyed, mud-splattered glory—had stood before the judge and recited his vows without hesitation. Not even a miniscule stumble over a syllable. Not the smallest bead of perspiration on his forehead. Was he not one to ever doubt a decision?

  As they crossed the road, Jack steered her around muddy potholes.

  Coral glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

  He nodded politely to anyone they passed by yet never held a gaze long enough to invite conversation. He didn’t appear ashamed to be married to her. But every so often, she caught a flash of a guilty man fearful of people discovering his sins, and then the upstanding-citizen mask returned so quickly she was left doubting she’d ever seen anything.

  They turned right onto a residential street, lined with trees, shrubs, and fragrant and colorful perennials. Jack shifted which hand held the parasol and briefcase as he moved around her to walk on the side near the road. Considering they’d exchanged minimal dialogue, despite living in a town with a grand population of almost fourteen hundred, it seemed strange that in the course of twenty-four hours, their relationship had evolved from adversarial to matrimonial.

  She was married to Jack.

  Married.

  To. Him.

  Yoked together. Husband and wife. And he was practically a stranger.

  Oh dear.

  Coral took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

  “Are you sure?” He turned his head a fraction, enough to meet her gaze. His lips tugged upward at the corners. “I said that yesterday and we landed in jail.”

  If her mood wasn’t so fretful, she would have chuckled at his attempt to amuse. How was their marriage going to work? Neither wanted this. Being metaphorically lassoed together had not changed their lives for the better.

  She nipped her bottom lip. “A sackcloth-and-ashes, woe-is-us dirge is more fitting considering our circumstances,” she said and noted how nervous she suddenly sounded talking to him. “But I believe looking for the good in a situation elevates one’s mood.” She sang, “ ’Taint no use to sit and whine, when the fish ain’t on your line. Bait your hook and keep on tryin’.”

  “Look for the good, huh?” He dipped under a low-hanging branch. “One: I’m pleased to not spend another night lying on a rickety cot that smelled of urine, sweat, and, strangely, bacon.”

  “My cot had no odor.”

  “And that’s why you had nine hours of blissful slumber,” he said, looking vaguely amused. “If I am ever arrested again, I will demand your cell.”

  Coral took a swift breath. “How do you know I slept for nine hours?”

  “Two,” he said and cleared his throat. “Neither orchard will be hindered by lack of workers during the harvest.”

  For a moment Coral stared. He was caked in as much mud as she was. He stood tall as he walked. His bright blue eyes glistened in the sun, yet he squinted like one did with eyes sensitive to the sun due to lack of sleep. “Jack, did you sleep at all?”

  “Yes,” he answered without pause.

  She gave him her best be honest look.

  He managed to grimace and smile at the same time, an adorable action, or at least she’d describe it as such if he weren’t Jack Kent. “I would’ve slept longer had my cot been less malodorous.”

  Nothing in his expression or tone gave clue he was lying, yet something in her knew for certain he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Why hadn’t he been able to sleep? No one had been snoring—

  Coral stumbled and quickly righted herself.

  Jack gave her one of those you are a rash and I must determine the degree of your infectiousness looks. Oh! She looked away, mortified. He was diagnosing her. If anyone had been snoring, she wouldn’t have heard it because she’d been sleeping on her right side. She’d been deaf to the world.

  She had to tell him.

  She needed to.

  It was right, being that they were married and all.

  “Three,” she blurted with a bright grin. “Both families attended the wedding, the likes of which has never before been seen in Wathena.”

  He seemed to be contemplating his response. Then the right side of his mouth curved, a lazy boyish tilt of his lips that made her insides do a strange flip. “The grand spectacle of it all left them speechless.”

  “Save for my parents, who…” Coral’s amusement died as her mind drew a blank. “Alas, there is no positive interpretation of their wails and barbs.” The moment the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. As cold and unloving as her parents were, that did not justify her vocalized complaint even to a man they considered their enemy. She would not be a person who returned evil for evil. “I shouldn’t have said that about them. They mean well.”

  “Do they?” This time he gave her the be honest look.

  Coral didn’t answer. Jack had lived in Wathena all his life. He, like everyone in town, knew her parents, heard the gossip, and believed the worst because the worst was the truth. When it came to Coral, her parents didn’t mean well.

  Jack, to his credit, didn’t press for a response.

  They turned onto the wide shrub-lined brick path leading to the stately white two-story colonial where she’d been living for the last eleven months since Mrs. Swayze agreed to teach her what was expected in a social secretary. When they reached steps leading to the covered porch and terrace, Jack stopped. Coral did, too.

  “Your parents,” he said softly, “realized you loved others more than yourself, and that knowledge brought an outpouring of emotion. That is the perspective you should have on their reaction, because it is the truth.”

  Coral’s throat tightened at the tenderness in his voice, in his eyes. Her chest ached. If only his words were as true as he tried to make her believe.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He nodded.

  Jack closed the parasol, tucked it under his right arm, and then assisted her up the stairs. “Four: I can resume calling on my patients, while your employment with the Swayzes continues unabated.” He reached for the door handle.

  “Wait.” She gave a tired smile. “Please.”

  “Yes?”

  She gazed up at him for a long moment. A haphazard pattern of mud-colored polka dots covered the right side of his face, a few clumps matted in his ash-blond hair. Unlike the rest of the men in the fight, he had no bruises, no bloodied lip. His blue eyes, she noticed, had flecks of midnight and a dark ring. They were quite pretty. He was more handsome than Hiram. How had she not noticed before?

  “Why did you marry me?”

  “Someone had to,” he said matter-of-factly.

  She gave him a curious look. “Yes, but you hate me.”


  He blanched. His gaze shifted to the street and followed three cyclists as they rode down the street. “Coral, I don’t hate you.”

  “I don’t hate you, either,” she admitted.

  His stunned gaze met hers.

  “I figured you were wondering,” she added with a soft smile.

  He shrugged. Was that to mean he didn’t care, hadn’t been wondering, or was pleased her feelings had changed?

  “To be honest, I did hate you, for that first year.” She frowned, thinking. “Actually the first two.”

  “What made you stop?” he asked with clear interest in his tone.

  “I spoke to our preacher. He said a onetime prayer isn’t always enough to forgive someone. I needed to replace the grudge with a positive, with what made me happy. Hating you made me miserable.” She hadn’t been able to figure out what made her happy until she figured out what didn’t—the life her parents had. She loved them. She merely didn’t want to become them.

  He looked at her expectantly. “And?”

  Coral gazed into his eyes. Either he was an exceptional actor or he truly wanted to hear more. He was interested in hearing more, in listening to her share her dreams. It gave her a queer feeling. Looking away from him, she said, “I realize what brought me joy was the thought of my children and my children’s children not growing up hating another family for a reason no one can remember.”

  “Wathena is a good town,” he argued.

  She chose to ignore the defensiveness in his tone. “I know it is, but no Davies or Kent can live here and escape the feud.”

  “I have for the last four years.”

  Coral raised her brows at the incredulity of his statement.

  He rolled his eyes. “All right, until yesterday.”

  “Until yesterday. Exactly.” She punctuated her words with a smile. “I’ve worked dozens of jobs in the last two years, saving most of what I earned. All I need to leave Wathena is a letter of reference from the Swayzes. The irony is, even if they give me one, I’m married to a man who loves living here. Your gallant action—and I do not mean this maliciously, Jack, please know that—has doomed me to the life I yearn to escape.”

  He winced.

  “You could have let Hiram volunteer,” she reminded him.

  “Do you wish I had?” he snapped.

  “I would rather not be married to either of you, but at least he wanted to marry me.”

  He paused, but only for a moment. “It’s my responsibility. Not his.”

  Coral nodded like she understood his reason. She didn’t. While he was the oldest Kent grandson, he didn’t own the orchard. Hiram became the owner the day his father died seventeen months ago, which made Hiram the male head of the household even though he was six years younger than Jack, even though Hiram’s father had raised Jack like his son. And Hiram was the reason the mud fight began. Something, though, in Jack’s eyes kept her from arguing with his reasoning. She might say it was guilt, but how was she to know? She didn’t know him. Or at least he was proving she didn’t. The Jack Kent she thought she knew wouldn’t have shielded her from mud. He wouldn’t have volunteered to marry her to keep her family—and his—from a misdemeanor conviction. He wouldn’t have kissed her.

  Her lips tingled as the memory returned, and she looked to the ground, finding it awkward to meet his gaze.

  After Judge Swayze had pronounced them man and wife and told Jack he could kiss his bride, Jack could have brushed his lips against hers and been done with it. Should have. Instead, he’d cradled her cheek with one hand, pulled her against him, and kissed her well and good and long, far more than what she ever expected a first kiss would be. In front of his family and hers. Dozens of people. When he’d finished the kiss, her cheeks had burned, pulse raced, mind struggled to remember if she’d responded. No one applauded, as customary at a wedding. No one made a sound, until Mother began wailing. Hiram had looked as furious as Father.

  Jack, though, had given her a sheepish look. An apology for the longer-than-necessary kiss? Or had he been feeling as befuddled as she’d been?

  Coral looked up, only to find him regarding her, awaiting her response. A prickle started at her neck and descended down her spine. The last time she’d felt something like that was in high school when Hiram would give her a secret smile. True, she’d seen him toss the same sultry and flirtatious look at other girls, and had for years, but somehow that hadn’t stopped her from believing the way he’d looked at her was different. Sincere. But she wasn’t a besotted eighteen-year-old anymore. And Jack wasn’t his roguish cousin.

  Except, unlike Hiram, Jack had kissed her.

  He was the only man in her whole life to have pressed his warm, full lips against hers. She’d liked every moment of it.

  She didn’t have to see her face to know her burning cheeks were red and splotchy.

  He was watching her with an intensity that made her pulse leap. His gaze fell to her lips.

  Coral held her breath in anticipation of a kiss she’d never in her life dreamed she’d want. He wanted it, too. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel it.

  She swallowed nervously.

  He shoved the parasol and briefcase into her arms then backed to the steps. “I need to pay house calls on Mrs. Zeizer and the McKinneys.” He couldn’t sound more eager to get away from her.

  “I understand.” She nodded in hopes the action would lessen any reddening of her cheeks. “Dinner will be at—”

  “I could be gone all day.”

  “Oh.” Coral gave a little smile to cover the odd ache in her chest. “Before you leave, I need you to know I’m truly sorry I wasted years hating you, blaming others, and complaining how life was unfair.”

  He moved his head slightly, acknowledging her words.

  “I don’t want to become that person again.” She paused. Moistened her lips. Breathed deep. It was amazing how much better it made her feel to be honest with him. “Since we’re married, can we agree to try and make the best of this?”

  He nodded.

  “We should arrive early for the parade, for everyone will want to congratulate you and wish me future happiness.”

  He nodded again.

  “I’ll see you later then.” Feeling awkward at his silence, she turned the doorknob and took a step inside the shaded reception hall. She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was angry at her or merely needed a nap.

  Jack said something in a voice so low she couldn’t make out the words.

  She swiveled around. “Did you say something?”

  He gripped his damaged hat with both hands, his posture stiff and angry. “I’m sorry,” he ground out.

  Coral stared at him in disbelief. The polite Jack, the gallant one who escorted her home, who helped find something good in the bad, who made her feel wanted. The Jack whom she could love. That Jack was gone.

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For everything I’ve done to ruin your life.”

  She couldn’t speak. He hadn’t ruined her life. Damaged yes, but not ruined.

  “I’m going to fix this.” His voice seemed a little strange, his eyes a little shiny. He slapped his hat atop his head and walked away, the back of his beige suit more mud-stained than the front.

  “Jack?” she called out. “Dinner is at seven.”

  He kept walking.

  Coral closed the door. She glanced at her wristwatch. Four minutes to one. She needed a bath. She also needed to explain events to Mr. and Mrs. Byers, who would not mind if Jack stayed here while the Swayzes were on holiday.

  Or Coral could move in with him. His living quarters on the second floor of his office should be large enough for her, too.

  No matter where she lived, she would make do.

  In thirty days, she would leave Wathena. Until then, her job was to convince Jack that Cleveland, Ohio, needed another doctor.

  Their marriage would work. She’d ensure it.

  Chapter 4

  It is easy to be brave
from a safe distance.

  AESOP

  Word has it, Dr. Jackson Kent married Miss Coral Davies in a civil ceremony this morning, attended by family and a few friends.”

  Jack removed his suit coat and draped it around the back of his chair. He schooled a grin and accepted from Augustus McKinney the almost-black pie pan heaping with beefy potato stew. He noted the darkened brown spots on the farmer’s leathered hand, more than what were there a week ago. Jack’s gaze went immediately to McKinney’s face. Additional dark spots on the face, too. Redder than usual nose. His breath had smelled bad. Could be a deficiency with his liver. Eighty yet with the spryness—and hair—of a man decades younger did not mean McKinney wasn’t in need of an exam.

  “Word has it, huh?” Jack said, sitting.

  McKinney, with his own pie pan filled with stew, sat next to him at the two-person table, two oil lamps providing the only light in the cabin now that the sun had set. He tucked a red cloth napkin into the bib of his denim overalls. He smoothed the bushy white hair around his mouth.

  “I’m no priest, but”—McKinney’s pale blue eyes narrowed with that you’d better listen to your elders look—“confession is good for one’s soul.”

  Jack picked up his fork and speared a potato chunk. It hadn’t been ten hours since the jail wedding, seven since he left Coral at the Swayze house. “Who told you?”

  “The Brazeltons, Drosselmeiers, and Sturgises separately when they stopped by to see Eugenia and drop off food.”

  Jack took a bite. Good families all.