Victoria_Bride of Kansas

by E. E. Burke

  It was freezing outside. Burning up in here. David used his sleeve to mop sweat off his forehead. His shirt had gotten dirty while cleaning up so he’d have to wash it anyway. “Will you make us some breakfast?”

  “Yes, of course.” Maggie sounded calm, yet distracted. She held something in her fist. He turned her hand over. Her fingers opened. The gold watch pin, she must’ve retrieved the heirloom before fleeing. The elegant watch had belonged to their mother and was one of the few personal items recovered from the fire that had killed their parents.

  Maggie had been four at the time. She claimed she couldn’t recall anything. Whenever she tried, her heart raced, her skin grew damp, and dark, inexpressible emotions clouded her mind. He’d urged her not to try to remember if it upset her. Locking away the terrifying memories was the only way he’d been able to deal with them.

  Today, those memories had rushed back with the force of a flash flood.

  He swallowed the knot in his throat and closed her fingers around the watch. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Right as rain.” She pinned the watch to the front of her wrapper. “Is the stove hot enough for me to cook eggs?”

  He’d been so panicked he had doused the fire even after he’d shut the dampers. Starting it again would take awhile. Rather than admit to his overreaction, he suggested an alternative. “Don’t bother. We can have some of Mrs. Murphy’s pastries. She’ll be here by seven. Look after Fannie while I see to Victoria.”

  Maggie’s shoulders relaxed, indicting she was glad to be released, even if she had agreed to cook. “I’ll take her downstairs. The milk delivery should be here.”

  As she passed by him, she brushed her fingers over his sleeve. Her gaze reflected sympathy and understanding. “Tell Victoria everything is all right. She feels very bad about it, and I…I was too upset to talk to her.”

  He nodded. Although he dreaded it, explaining the cause of his panicked reaction was his responsibility. Sometimes, even without triggers like smoke, he woke up in a panic, reliving the fire, and he didn’t want to scare her if that happened.

  A moment after Maggie left with Fannie, Victoria emerged from the bedroom. She’d changed into a dark green skirt and jacket, had gathered her hair up and fixed it with decorative combs. She looked very neatly put together. He wouldn’t guess anything had happened, except for the lack of color in her face and the dazed look in her eyes.

  “Sit down.” He gestured to the sofa. As much as he didn’t want to sit in a room still smelling of smoke, there was nowhere else to go to have a private conversation. “We need to talk.”

  Chapter 9

  Victoria trembled so badly she had to thread her fingers together to keep her hands from shaking. This must be how a condemned man felt when facing the gallows. As requested, she sat on the sofa. David had to be so disappointed in her.

  Tears gathered along her lower lids. She had no skills in homemaking or knowledge about the mercantile business. Even Fannie had rejected her. She was as useless as she feared. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to cook you breakfast. I didn’t mean to…to make so much smoke. Do you want me to leave?”

  The cushion sank as David sat beside her. Dark smudges marred his cheek. His white shirt was ruined from cleaning up her mess. He leaned forward, and reaching over closed his hand around her tightly clasped fingers. “We’re handfasted, Victoria. Pledged to each other.”

  His warm brown eyes didn’t have that wild look anymore, and his tone sounded tender, not angry. The terror squeezing her heart eased.

  “You’re not sending me away?”

  “No. Why would you think that?”

  Victoria sagged with relief. Thank goodness, he’d forgiven her for nearly burning down the building, and he hadn’t even asked how it happened. Her conscience prodded her to tell him the full truth, so he would know what sort of wife he was getting. “I don’t know how to cook.”

  One corner of his mouth curled upward. “I do. If you still haven’t learned by the time Maggie leaves, I’ll teach you.”

  Cooking was only one of her failings. She risked another confession. “I don’t know how to sew, either. Even my cross-stitching is abominable.”

  Amusement reached his eyes. “Most of the clothes we wear are readymade, the ones I carry in my store. What I don’t have, we can find elsewhere.”

  “And the laundry?”

  “We’ll use a laundress. You’ll be busy giving Fannie her lessons and helping me in the store.”

  She released her fear on a long sigh. “I thought after last night, when you said I should sleep with Maggie…”

  “Last night?” He shook his head, half smiling. “You think I don’t want you? That’s not why I suggested we wait. You questioned me about whether we were actually married, so I figured you had reservations about, well, sleeping together before we made it legal. We can stand in front of the judge today.” He squeezed her hands. “You can’t leave. I need you, Victoria.”

  Her heart fluttered in her chest. That was as close as he’d come to a declaration of love.

  He wasn’t rejecting her at all. He wanted her, but he’d been honoring her by waiting, and in saying he needed her, he’d confirmed what she had come to believe from his letters. He had seen something in her no one else had seen, something special.

  She gazed at him, filled with wonder. “No one has ever said they needed me before.”

  “How’s that, a lady like you?” he declared with astonishment. “You’re beautiful, educated, refined…”

  The burst of joy fizzled as he ticked off her pedigree. It was all she really had to recommend her, when it came down to it.

  “But I no longer have money, or status.”

  “Is that what you think I want?” A thoughtful crease appeared between his sable brows. “I don’t recall asking for those things.”

  “You didn’t.” She’d remind him of what he’d written and maybe that would spark whatever had compelled him to tell her she was the perfect choice. “You asked for a woman of good standing who would be a kind and loving wife and mother. Someone willing to overlook scandal and open her heart to a divorced man; a woman of strength and courage.”

  His lips twisted in a rueful smile. “Is that all she asked for?” Alarm flashed across his face. He released a laugh that sounded nervous. “I mean, all I asked for?”

  Victoria caught the odd slip. Based on his reaction, it wasn’t a matter of misspeaking. He’d unwittingly given something away.

  The letters. He must’ve had help crafting them.

  Come to think of it, he’d told her the other night that he’d quit school to go to work to support his sister, who had gone on to college. He might’ve worried that his limited education would show in his writing and hurt his prospects,

  “You don’t recall what you wrote?” she prodded.

  “Sure, I recall most of it. The important parts.” The fear on his face gave him away.

  So, Maggie had helped him. Disappointing perhaps, but not the end of the world. The exact words might not be his, but they reflected what was in his heart, and his sentiments meant the world to her.

  “You don’t have to remember. I could tell you everything in those letters.”

  “Memorized them, did you?” David rubbed his forehead, as if the thought of memorizing made his head hurt. She didn’t want him to feel lacking in that area, as well.

  “There were only three, so it wasn’t as difficult as memorizing whole Bible passages.”

  “Hopefully not as boring.” Without smiling at his own quip, he shifted forward and braced his arms on his knees. “Do you recall what I told you about the fire that killed my parents?”

  “You told me they died, but not how you managed to escape.”

  “The stairs were on fire. My father put Maggie and me out on the porch roof to get us away from the smoke. Then he went back for my mother. The porch roof collapsed.”

  She shuddered. “That’s awful, terrifying. Is that how you wer
e hurt? How did Maggie escape injury?”

  “I held onto her and my body cushioned her fall. Broke my leg in three places. I couldn’t save my folks.” He stared off in the distance, somewhere else or in some other time. His sadness broke Victoria’s heart.

  “You saved your sister.”

  He shook his head, as if to clear the morbid thoughts. “Sorry. That’s not why I brought this up. I wanted to apologize for yelling and frightening you and sending you out in the freezing cold. I overreacted.”

  “You didn’t overreact. I nearly set the kitchen afire,” she laid her hand on his knee to reassure him.

  His larger hand came down over hers and his warmth reached all the way to her cold toes. “The fire got too hot. All I had to do was shut the dampers.”

  “I should’ve thought of that. I feel foolish.”

  “Don’t.” He patted her hand. “It takes time to learn how to adjust the fire to the right temperature. You just burned the bacon and biscuits, that’s all. Everyone burns food when they’re learning how to cook.”

  He was being too kind.

  “I didn’t just burn it. My biscuits turned into blackened bricks.”

  “Those were biscuits?” He gave her a quick smile, and just as quick, it vanished. “The smoke, sometimes it wakes up old memories…and, I’m living it again, and the panic.”

  Victoria laid her hand on his unshaven jaw, longing to comfort him. She also loved touching him, loved how warm his skin felt; even loved the roughness of the dark bristles that grew so fast. “It’s hard for you to talk about this.”

  “Very.”

  “Then you needn’t if it hurts too much.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed the center of her palm. “Thank you. I worried you might not want a man with a damaged mind, as well as a damaged body.”

  “I want you,” she said simply. Truthfully.

  He curled his fingers around her hand. “And I want you.”

  Victoria searched his eyes, saw hunger reflected in the dark depths and her body quaked with desire. He wanted her. Needed her. Perhaps he even loved her. Yet, something held him back from admitting it, something he might think she wouldn’t understand. She had to make him see there was nothing so terrible it could stand between them.

  She clasped their joined hands. “We must have honesty between us.”

  He regarded her with a puzzled frown. “That’s why I told you about how the smoke affects me. Why I overreacted.”

  “Yes, and I’m glad you trusted me with that. Now you can trust me enough to tell me about those letters. Maggie wrote them, didn’t she?”

  Worry gathered around his eyes. “You figured it out.”

  “It wasn’t hard after you misspoke.”

  He dropped her hand. Leaning his arms on his knees, he put his head down. His slumped posture conveyed resignation. “I was going to tell you.”

  Eventually. Perhaps. But she’d been right to bring this up now, so they could remove the last barrier and he wouldn’t feel as though he had to hide. Maybe the almost-fire had been a blessing because it forced them both to be truthful and to realize they didn’t have to be perfect. They just had to be themselves.

  She couldn’t resist rubbing his back. “It’s all right, David. Who wrote them doesn’t matter.”

  His head turned, revealing his astonishment. “You don’t care that Maggie wrote to you?”

  Her heart went out to him. His lack of education meant nothing to her. “I wouldn’t hold that against you. Who penned the words isn’t what’s most important.”

  “I tried…but I kept putting it off.” He threaded his fingers through his hair, as he did when he was frustrated or struggling to express himself. “I don’t write so well. No, that’s not why. I was afraid to go into another marriage. At first, I was furious with Maggie for posting a personal ad without telling me. Amazing, it’s turned out for the best. I just wish she’d shared your letters sooner.”

  Victoria drew her hand from his back. No, that couldn’t be. “What…what are you saying? Maggie posted the advertisement? She answered my letters?”

  David’s gaze remained fastened to the floor. “You said you’d figured it out.”

  “I deduced she penned the letters, yes, but I assumed it was under your instruction.”

  His silence plunged a dagger into her heart.

  David hadn’t picked her above all others. She wasn’t anyone special. He hadn’t even read what she wrote. When she found her voice, she managed a rough whisper. “When did you see my letters?”

  He still wouldn’t look at her. “The morning before I met you at the station.”

  The cold blade twisted. No wonder he’d acted as if he didn’t know what to do with her and seemed resentful of her presence. An unwanted bride had been foisted on him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”

  He shook his head, seeming at a loss. “I thought it might work out.”

  Dear God, the truth was awful. Much worse than she thought possible. Everything she’d believed had been a fantasy. “What might work out? You just said you didn’t want a wife.”

  He jerked his head in her direction. His neck and lean cheeks darkened. “I didn’t want to get married again, but I needed a wife. I intended to post an advertisement, just never got around to it. So Maggie did it for me.”

  Victoria curled her hands into fists, wishing she had his conniving sister’s neck in her grasp. “How can you defend her?”

  “I’m not defending her. I’m telling you what happened. Being honest, like you said.” His voice had gone as wooden as his expression. She longed to slap him, so at least he would feel something. He should hurt as much as she was hurting.

  She flushed with anger and humiliation. “Why? Why did you let me believe you’d written those letters?”

  “If I’d told you the truth, you would’ve left.” He came to his feet and began to pace. “I’m sorry, Victoria. Sorry I wasn’t truthful. But I couldn’t take the chance. I thought you’d leave, and you’re so good with Fannie…”

  His stumbling explanation sank in, right down to the pit of her stomach. Fannie’s needs, not his, that’s what this was about. What it had always been about, only Maggie had carefully colored the truth with romantic prose.

  “You didn’t…didn’t ever want…” her voice wavered. He hadn’t wished to marry her, and even if he did now, he still didn’t value her as anything more than a caretaker. She held onto her composure by getting angry. “That’s the only reason you need me, so I can watch Fannie.”

  * * *

  Victoria’s outburst confused David. He’d expected her anger when she found out she’d been deceived about the letters, but that wasn’t what seemed to bother her the most. She sounded more insulted about why he’d decided to marry. It was a valid reason, and something many a man had done before him. “Not just to watch her. Fannie needs a mother.”

  This explanation didn’t seem to help. Victoria still looked as if she might burst into tears. She could be worried Fannie wouldn’t accept her, and she would disappoint him. She’d tried so hard to learn the business, and her foray into cooking was another example of her determination to be a good wife. Earlier, she’d kept muttering about being useless. Maybe she thought she’d somehow failed at mothering.

  “Victoria, I know you care about Fannie, and she trusts you. She only ran away because she doesn’t want Maggie to leave, and she thinks if she likes you, it’s somehow disloyal. I explained Maggie is leaving anyway and it has nothing to do with you.” David held out his hands, appealing to reason. “Look how far you’ve come. She’s communicating with signs. If you keep working with her, she might overcome whatever prevents her from talking.”

  The high color drained from Victoria’s face. She gripped the curved arm of the sofa. “You expect me to cure her?”

  The weight always present in his chest grew heavier. If only she knew how little faith he had in anything. “That’s not what I expect, although I admit
to having hope.”

  He spied Fannie’s favorite rag doll in the toy crate beside the sofa. Bending down, he picked it up. No bigger than his hand, threadbare from being hugged so much. “Rachel gave her this doll. She used to carry it around all the time. I haven’t seen her with it lately. Not since you gave her the other doll. That’s a good sign, I think. Means she isn’t clinging to false hopes. She’s accepted you, at least as a friend. One day, I’m sure it’ll be more.”

  Victoria looked away, wiping at the wet streaks on her cheeks.

  He wasn’t making his point very well. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “Oh, yes. I understand perfectly.” Her lips twisted into a cynical smile, not at all like her. “You don’t want a wife. You want a miracle worker.”

  His face grew hot. He knew he wasn’t good with words, but she wasn’t listening. “That’s not what I—”

  “That is what you want.”

  “That’s all you took from what I said?”

  The way she’d turned away from him, the stiffness in her posture, the hurt on her face, gave him the answer.

  He wrestled with uncertainty. If he didn’t get this right, he might lose her.

  David paced the length of the room and back, rubbing his forehead, analyzing the problem. He’d attempted to explain why he needed her, and how much faith he had in her. Maybe if he convinced her he wanted her she’d have no other reason for doubt.

  He rejoined her on the sofa. He longed to kiss her tears away, but he didn’t think she’d welcome that just now. She hunched her shoulders and held her hands together, a sign she didn’t want to be touched.

  Resting his arms on his knees, he spoke in a low, soothing, tone. “Victoria, listen to me. We can have a good marriage. You said yourself you want me, and I want you.”

  “You want a willing woman in your bed.” The bitterness in her voice let him know just how much he’d hurt her, and she probably hadn’t forgiven him for suspecting she was promiscuous.

  “Not just any woman,” he said softly. “I haven’t been with anyone. Not since Rachel left.”

  With the admission came the realization of how solitary and empty his life had been before Victoria had come into it.