by Jillian Hart
“You are much prettier than any sack of grain and much more important to me.” He eased her onto the bed, and did it gently, for so strong of a man. She stared up in wonder at him, framed by the dark. Not even the shadows could hide the emotion on his face. The honest, deep affection that shone so brightly for her.
The affection she could not give him in return. She searched for it in the void of her heart, but no feeling came. No fondness, no tenderness, no affection. She wanted to feel those things. Feeling inadequate, she collapsed onto her side of the bed.
“I hope you don’t think I’m being bossy, but I’m bringing your tea and that’s the way it is. If you want to stop me, now’s your chance.”
“I don’t think I can,” she murmured, weak against the pillow.
“I know and I’m taking advantage of it.” He tucked the covers around her and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. The way he gazed down at her made her feel if she wasn’t plain old Willa but someone more, someone special to him.
It’s the baby, she thought. He’s doing this because of the child she carried. That’s how much he wanted to be a father.
“I’ll be back with your tea. Just rest, Willa.” His voice lingered on her name, low and intimate, and shivers broke out on her skin. He disappeared through the door, a better man than she’d ever imagined and one she knew she didn’t deserve.
But how she wanted to try.
* * *
Austin poured a cup of tea from the pot. He couldn’t hear Willa moving around. That was good. He hated to see her sick like that. He left the bacon in the warmer and made his way to their room.
She lay in the shadows, eyes closed and as pale as the sheet. It was impossible to keep his affections hidden as he padded across the room. The cup clinked in its saucer as he slipped it onto her bedside table. Last night holding her in his arms had been sweet. Sweetness clung to him now as he straightened, watching her lie there, his bride.
All she needed was time. Certainty filled him as he watched her eyes flutter open and focus on him. For a split second, in the unguarded moment before her shield went back up, he could see how vulnerable she was. It vanished as her chin lifted. Tension jumped along her delicate jawline as she tried levering herself up in bed.
“Let me help you with your pillow.” He reached across her to grab his and tucked it behind her, aware of the tiny sigh she made as she accepted his help. Funny how she kept her gaze from meeting his. He gave the final pillow a pat, then all was in place and she leaned into the stack with a sigh. At least he’d helped to make her more comfortable.
“Thank you.” She accepted the cup he held out for her, still not meeting his gaze. She sipped tentatively, her rosebud lips against the cup brim.
It was not at all hard to remember how those lips had felt on his. Affection surged through him with a force so strong it felt like that’s all he was or all he could be. He eased onto the edge of the mattress. “We need to schedule your first driving lesson.”
“That would be good.” She took another sip and seemed to relax a little, as if her stomach was starting to settle.
“Would you like to do it this afternoon?” His arms felt empty as he sat on the edge of the bed, aching to hold her. The few feet separating them seemed to stretch like a country mile. He resisted the need to gather her up in his arms. “I can get off work early.”
“I appreciate that, Austin. It’s good of you.”
“If that’s what you want to think. But the truth is you’re going to need to pick up groceries soon. The supply in the pantry can’t last forever. I could do that for you, but you’d probably be happier doing it yourself. What if I pick up the wrong thing? I’d like to avoid your temper.” He winked, so she knew he really was kidding. He wasn’t quite sure how to say what he meant. How he wanted everything to be right for her and as good as he could make it. She’d changed his life for the better. She’d changed his heart. He needed to give her all he possibly could.
“Oh, Austin, I’m so sorry about last night.” Remorse shone in her eyes that locked on his, a shock to his soul. It was easy to read how badly she felt. Her chin wobbled. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never said such things to anyone before.”
“It’s all right.” He took her cup because it was empty, intending to refill it for her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But I do.” Her hand lighted on his arm. “This baby needs you. I do, too.”
“Maybe I need you, too,” he confessed. Her touch seared through his shirtsleeve to the skin and bone beneath. Desire shot through him, desire he had to ignore. He shrugged. “Besides, it looks like I might need someone around to let me know when I step out of line. You seem fairly good at the job.”
They smiled together and it felt good, as if something had been resolved he didn’t understand. The air was cleared between them and so was the chagrin in her eyes. With a sigh, she sank a little farther into her pillows.
“I’ll fetch you another cup,” he told her. “Just close your eyes and rest. Breakfast will be in the warmer whenever you’re up for it.”
Her fingers squeezed his arm in a silent message of thanks. When he stood, he knew down deep that everything between them was going to be all right. His future with her was going to be just what he’d hoped for.
* * *
Perfect.
Willa stepped from the chair and onto the floor, liking the new curtain she’d hung on the front window next to the door. The merry fabric added cheer to the sunshine streaming through the panes. She grabbed the tiebacks she’d hemmed while in bed this morning, gathered the material in an artful bunch and tied a pretty bow. She took a step back to consider her work, gave the bow a tug and gathered back the curtain adorning the other side of the window.
Austin. She couldn’t seem to get out of her mind all the little things about him she liked. The timbre of his voice, the comfort of his touch and how wonderful it had felt to awaken in his arms. Even in memory, her body responded warmly. And the way he’d settled her pillows for her, brought her tea and even held her hair while she’d been sick, made her appreciate him even more.
The remembered rhythm of his gait lingered like a favorite song in her mind as she pulled the chair away from the window, tucked it into place at the table where it belonged. Was it wrong that she missed him so much? Or that she’d enjoyed his kiss?
That’s what really upset you last night, you may as well admit it, Willa. Worse, something else currently upset her as she grabbed another pinned curtain panel and headed to the sofa to work on it. As if the kiss weren’t bad enough, the sensation of waking in his arms kept haunting her. Probably because she wanted to do it again. Somehow she had to erase it from her memory. Austin must have reached for her, because no way would she turn to anyone, especially a man, even in sleep.
Or would she? She needed to be strong. She may have been his wife, but she’d learned a long time ago to stand on her own feet. It was better not to need anyone.
Isn’t it a little too late for that, Willa? She plopped onto the cushion and grabbed her needle and thread. The house felt empty and lonely instead of calm and still with only her in it. Since when had she started missing Austin?
Since today, she realized, threading her needle. Since his kiss. She missed his humor and the crook of his smile. She missed his steady companionship and his way of making her feel as if everything was going to be all right. The fire crackled in the grate, tossing heat into the room. It didn’t seem to warm her the way Austin had, when she’d been cozy in his arms.
No doubt about it. She had a weakness for her husband. A smart woman would figure out a way to fight it. She thumbed on her thimble and poked her needle through the edge of the fabric. A knock rapped on the door a second before it swung open. The needle flew from her fingers as she jumped, startled.
“T
hought I’d better knock.” Austin filled the doorway, pure might and male strength. “Didn’t want to startle you.”
Too late for that. She couldn’t catch her breath, and surely being startled was the reason—not the man. And where did her needle go? She couldn’t think clearly enough to search for it. “You’re back early.”
“Isn’t that what we agreed to this morning?” He ambled in, bringing the outside damp with him. “The snow is melting fast out there. There’s just enough packed on the roads to make driving a bit of a challenge.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“Yes, as it will be harder when it all turns to mud. We could wait until the roads are better, but you’d probably be happier able to come and go as you please.” He knelt down at the hearth to tend to the fire. “The curtain looks good. I’m surprised you aren’t working on baby things, though.”
“I wanted to get the house settled first.” She thought of other touches she’d like for the rooms—doilies and tableclothes and pillows to match the curtains, but she had to be practical. There would be time for those things later, maybe between baby projects. “I planned to start knitting the yarn you gave me as soon as I finish curtains for all the rooms.”
“Great.” He lowered the damper with a clang. “Evelyn dropped by the livery this morning. She wanted to warn me that they were already planning another Sunday dinner. They liked spending time with you.”
“And I need warning because?”
“I’m afraid spending too much time with my family might give you a poor opinion of me.” He winked, standing full height and offering her his hand. “I worry about what they say to you when you ladies are all together.”
“They have been telling me all your secrets.” She laid her hand in his. A little charge snapped across her skin and dug deeper, almost painfully, burrowing in. She whooshed to her feet too fast, feeling dizzy. Or maybe that was just Austin’s nearness. The man affected her more and more each day.
“Oh, no, I’m in big trouble now.” His chuckle vibrated through her as if it were her own. She hardly noticed crossing the room at his side. He was all she saw. Powerful man, big heart and her future as his wife.
It would be so easy to lean on him, to let herself believe in lies. That he would always be there for her. That he would always be like this. That true love could exist.
She had to be careful not to be drawn in by false wishes.
“I’ve got your little mare hitched. She handles real nice. She’ll drive easily for you.” He held out her coat for her. As she stepped near to him quicksilvers of sensation lashed through her.
It was his chest, she realized, as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. The memory of being against his chest was a powerful thing. It clearly affected even a woman like her, one who knew better.
You can’t believe, Willa. She ducked her head, stepping away from him. Torn between her wishes and her beliefs, she concentrated on buttoning up so she didn’t have to see the caring shining brightly in his gaze.
“I hope you’ve got a name picked out.” Austin opened the door and the damp cold air rushed over her. “We’re going to have to call that sweet little thing something.”
She stepped out into the day, surprised at the transformation around her. The melting snow dripped from rooftop and treetop, plopped from branches and puddled in low places to reveal a brand-new world. The white and gray of winter retreated and green emerged. Spring hinted in the tight buds of the trees and in the peep of early wildflowers budding through the thaw.
Snow had covered all this? Everywhere she looked, she saw color. Blue soaring mountains, robin’s-egg sky, deep evergreen forests and splashes of purple and yellow as wildflowers fought to bloom. Hope surged through her with a force she’d never felt before as Austin’s arm draped her shoulder.
“That one last winter storm blew in hard, but as hard as it was, it didn’t last. Winter never does.” His words held a deeper meaning, as if he understood at least some of her struggles. She’d never felt so close to another human being as he assisted her down the slick steps, careful of her and of the babe she carried.
Chapter Sixteen
The little mare shivered in her traces, perhaps not knowing what to expect. Austin felt for the frightened animal as the horse watched Willa approach, shying at the outstretched hand. When it didn’t strike her, the horse studied the woman more carefully but didn’t reach out for a human touch.
Maybe in time, he thought.
Looking at his bride was like a first glimpse of May after a long winter. He untied the tether from the banister post, careful to move slow and steady so as not to frighten the mare further.
“Will she be okay to drive?” Willa patiently waited, her hand still out to pet the mare’s nose. But the animal stayed back as far as her collar and harnessing would allow. “She’s skittish, poor thing.”
“The only thing she’s scared of is a human.” He’d spent a lot of time trying to win the mare’s trust and had failed every time. “I think she was whipped pretty badly by at least one owner, maybe by more than one. All she needs is time.”
“She’s beautiful. I wish I could pet her, but I don’t want to scare her.” Willa sighed longingly, the spring winds battering the wisps that never seemed to stay in her braid. “I’ve named her Star, because it’s hopeful. Like a twinkle of light in the dark sky.”
“I like it.” The name suited the mare, with her coat as black as midnight and the white star on her forehead. The timid mustang watched him as he came nearer, perhaps expecting the worst. He knew how that could be. Enough bad things happen to you, and you begin to expect it.
“Let’s get you up in the driver’s seat.” He clasped Willa’s slender elbow, making sure she didn’t slip in the slush. Memories of her settling against him in bed last night put vigor in his step as he helped her onto the running board. Her rose scent tempted him to ask for another kiss and when she smiled a thank-you to him, her perfect Cupid’s-bow mouth was pure torment.
“Are you sure you want to trust me with the reins?” she quipped, as he reached to gather them from the dash.
“I’m fearless,” he teased in return, offering her the leather straps. “A woman driver doesn’t scare me.”
“I guess we’ll see about that. I keep having visions of driving off the road, getting stuck in the ditch or causing enough damage in a crash that you won’t trust me with a horse again.”
“Not going to happen, although I have to admit I worried about the same things when Pa handed me my first set of reins. All I could think was, ‘Don’t wreck the family buckboard, Austin.’” He circled around the back of the vehicle, his boots splashing in the slush. “I repeated it to myself for the first couple of miles.”
“I haven’t heard this story before.” She tilted her head back to look at him, pure splendor in the sunshine. The light worshipped her, doting on her finely carved face, luminous blue eyes and her innocent femininity that no canvas could do justice to. “Tell me.”
“Maybe there’s nothing left to tell.” He settled in beside her, fighting the urge to draw her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could think straight. “I drove the family to town. End of story.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” She sparkled up at him, sitting prim and polite on the seat, clutching the reins in her slender hands. “The story of the tree-climbing incident comes to mind. I know there’s more to the tale than you’re admitting.”
“Sheesh. I’m trying to hold on to my dignity here.” He leaned back against the seat and chuckled, shook his head and caught his hat brim before a blast of cool breeze could steal it. “I don’t want my bride to see me in a bad light.”
“Too late for that,” she joked, her shy chuckle tinkling like quiet music. The notes stuck with him and he laughed, too.
“I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to my family. Now you’ll never see me in a good light, especially if I tell you the learning-to-drive tale.” He knew that would only pique her curiosity, and he didn’t mind. Having her beside him, bright and merry and different from the withdrawn, sad-eyed woman who’d met him on the train platform was boon enough. His ego could survive the humiliation of a retelling of the story as long as it made her smile.
“You have to tell it to me now.” She adjusted her grip on the reins. “Am I doing this right?”
“You’re just fine.” Somehow he was going to have to figure out a way to keep his pulse from leaping into a full-out gallop whenever she focused her wide blue eyes on him. “Star is a dependable horse and she responds best to a light bit. That means not too much pressure, so be sure and keep the reins slack so they aren’t pulling on the bit.”
“I was careful to watch you drive, so I would be ready for this. Now that I’m holding the reins, I’m not so sure.” She swallowed once, blew out a cute little breath and straightened her spine. “I don’t want to make a mistake.”
“That’s why I’m here. Go ahead and give the reins a light snap, just enough so she can feel it. That’s right.” In response, the mare stepped out, her steel shoes clanking on the hard-packed ice. “You have a nice light touch.”
“I can’t believe it. I’m really driving.” Elation nearly lifted her off the edge of her seat. “I’m doing it.”
“Yes, you are. A fine job, too.”
“Oh, this is amazing. How do I turn?” She felt flustered when he leaned in to give the right rein a small tug, to head the mare a little southward. She should have known to do that, it was just overwhelming.
“When in doubt, you can just pull back on both reins. It doesn’t hurt a thing to stop in the middle of the driveway.” He towered beside her on the seat looking as invincible as those mountains. He shook his head, as if trying to ward off a memory. “If you get flustered, just stop, get your bearings and start up again when you’re ready.”