Come Back

by Melissa Maygrove

  That got a gasp and a few raised brows.

  Bell sputtered. “What did she say?”

  “She didn’t. I was waiting for her answer when you interrupted us.”

  Seth turned to Becca and bit back a curse at the sight of her tear-streaked face. He wanted her to marry him more than he needed to draw his next breath, but he wanted her to do it for the right reasons.

  He sat back down and took her hand in his. “Don’t let these people sway your decision. The choice is still yours. I meant what I said, but if the answer is no, we’ll spend the night someplace else. No matter what, I won’t abandon you.”

  More tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Yes,” she choked out. “The answer is yes.”

  Becca turned a slow circle, taking in the lacy curtains, quilt-covered bed, and simple elegance of the room she’d been left in. A soon as she’d accepted Seth’s proposal, she’d been ushered to Reverend Bell’s home and introduced to his wife.

  Dressed in a high-neck white blouse and plain gray skirt, the diminutive woman had greeted her with a smile and promptly sent her upstairs to wait, assuring Becca she would take care of everything.

  Not knowing what else to do, Becca sat on a trunk at the foot of the bed, still reeling from the day’s events. She’d faced her parents’ desertion, lost her betrothed to another woman, and been publicly humiliated by someone she used to consider a friend. And now she was getting married—to Seth. The river of pain that had filled her until she thought she would burst had largely seeped away, leaving the sand soft and shifting under her feet.

  Someone knocked on the door and she jumped up. “Come in.”

  The door opened and a wreath of grizzled brown hair led the way as Mrs. Bell slipped inside, carrying a brown paper package that was bigger than the woman herself. She closed the door and hurried over to the bed.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s your wedding clothes.”

  “My what?”

  “Your wedding clothes.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Bell, you shouldn’t have.”

  “I didn’t. And call me Lottie,” she added, squeezing Becca’s hand. “Seth sure is a generous one,” she chirped as she untied the string. “Just wait till you see what all’s inside.” The tiny woman lifted out a lacy white chemise—the likes of which Becca had never seen—and held it up, peeking out from behind it with a grin.

  Becca gasped. “He picked that out for me?” she squeaked.

  “Goodness, no, dear. He left money with the storekeeper. I was the one who chose your things.” One by one, she held up a set of drawers and two petticoats that were lacier than the chemise. And then she drew out a flowing, frilled nightgown, her eyes twinkling with unholy glee.

  Becca wished the floor would open up so she could fall in.

  Lottie laughed. “Now don’t go looking like that. This is right proper for a new bride.” She fished around again, rattling the paper. “And so is this.”

  A silent breath of awe filled Becca’s lungs as folds of cornflower blue calico tumbled open into a readymade dress. The bodice was modestly fitted, and the cut of the sleeves and the skirt was surprisingly generous. She’d never owned anything so nice.

  Lottie held it up to her and smiled. “It brings out the blue in your eyes.”

  Maybe so, but it was the exact color of Seth’s when the early morning sun lit his face.

  Becca pressed the dress to her chest with one hand and examined it with the other, marveling at the delicate buttons and the tightness of the weave. A garment made from fabric this fine must’ve cost a week’s pay. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You know what they say. Married in blue, you will always be true.”

  Lottie checked the length and tugged at the edges, testing the fit. “Perfect. I’ve always had a good eye, if I do say so myself.” She laid the dress across the bed and placed the bundle of white in Becca’s arms. “Take these underthings behind that screen, freshen up with the basin, and put them on.”

  “Why two petticoats?”

  “Together, they’ll give a nice fullness to your skirt; then you can wear them separately for every day.”

  They were too nice for every day, but Becca chose not to argue.

  A few minutes later, she reluctantly eased out from behind the screen. She felt completely at ease around Lottie, like she’d known her all her life, but her cheeks still flamed.

  “Well, well. Aren’t you a sight? You remind me of my Esther. She was wed in mid-December, just like you.” Lottie helped her on with her dress, then patted the stool in front of a small cherry vanity. “Come fix your hair.”

  Becca loosened her braid and began running a brush through the wavy locks. She met Lottie’s gaze in the oval mirror. “Thank you for opening your home to us.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. When Zebulon told me what that bunch was up to, I made up my mind—right then and there—that I would make things as pleasant for the two of you as possible. I considered beseeching Judge Tate not to force you to wed, but then I learned Seth had already proposed.”

  Lottie rested a hand on Becca’s shoulder. “I hope you don’t think too poorly of our town. Things didn’t used to be this way. Zeb and I moved here because Blackwater needed a preacher. We liked it at first. It’s full of God-fearing people—a wholesome place to live. Unfortunately, a few of its members carry things too far.”

  Becca stopped brushing. “Why do you stay?”

  Lottie tilted her head to the side, then her lips formed a smile that was short on humor and long on humility. “The rules our Lord gave us are good and for our benefit, but we’re broken beings living in a fallen world. Someone has to be the voice of mercy.”

  Becca laid the brush aside and swept her hair over her left shoulder. She hesitated, then divided it into three sections and started to braid.

  “Would you like to wear it up?”

  “I would, but I don’t have any pins.”

  Lottie opened a small drawer on the right side of the vanity and drew out a handful of metal hairpins. “I have plenty. Take as many as you need.”

  After trying, unsuccessfully, to arrange her tresses, Becca gave up. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how.”

  “It’s not difficult. Let me show you.” Lottie smoothed the hair and gathered it into her fist, then twisted it into a rope and coiled it on the crown of Becca’s head. Before securing the first pin, she paused. “Do you like it this way?”

  “Yes, very much.” The bun was neat, and the hair around it formed a fluffy wreath that framed her face.

  “What’s bothering you, then?”

  Becca almost laughed at the scope of the question. She handed Lottie a pin and chose the most pressing thing. “I’m worried Seth is marrying me because he feels sorry for me.”

  “Pft. That’s a wasted worry.”

  “You think so?”

  “Land sakes, child. I haven’t seen a man more smitten with a woman since Zeb courted me. The way Seth speaks of you—” She shook her head. “He’s completely besotted. You couldn’t get rid of that man if you tried.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Becca murmured.

  “I am.” Lottie patted her shoulder. “What else is bothering you?”

  Becca picked up two more pins and handed one over. “I’m nervous about tonight,” she finally admitted. “This is all happening so fast. There wasn’t time to plan or prepare.”

  “Is it your woman’s time, dear?”

  “No, that happened last week.” Becca ran her thumb along the edge of the hairpin still in her hand, grazing her skin back and forth across its bumpy ridges. “I don’t know much about being a wife.”

  Lottie reached for the pin and Becca relinquished it. “Men are easy to please,” she said as she worked the metal prongs into the hair and slid it into place. “I’m sure Seth is no different. Just keep his belly full and his bed warm.”

  “The first part I can do. It’s the last part I’m not sure about.” />
  Lottie studied Becca’s reflection, then cupped her shoulders with lean, work-worn hands. “Seth strikes me as a gentle soul who’d sooner die than bring you harm. A desire to please him is all the knowhow you need.”

  The skin around Lottie’s eyes crinkled at the nudge of a warm smile, and she gave Becca’s arms a pat. “We’d best head downstairs. I’m sure your groom has paced a permanent grove in my hardwoods by now.”

  Becca paused at the upper landing and pressed a damp palm to her fluttering stomach. All that stood between her and a life-changing act was her own judgment and a single flight of stairs. Her mouth went dry and her heart flailed like a trapped bird against her ribs. She didn’t doubt her love for Seth, but she needed more time to be sure of her motivations—and his. Vowing to marry someone was largely irrevocable. And success depended on more than just love.

  Lottie appeared at the base of the stairs and smiled up at her. “We’re ready.” The hem of her skirt brushed the bottom step as she turned and hurried away.

  This was it.

  Becca’s heart pounded faster as she lifted her foot and took the first step. She gripped the banister and steadied herself, then descended the stairs on shaky legs.

  Her breath caught and her knees threatened to buckle when the lower room came into view.

  Seth stood in the parlor with his back to her, leaning down, listening to something the preacher was saying. His flaxen hair was slicked back neatly, the ends of it curling just above his collar. The dark brown pants he wore were familiar, but the crisp white shirt that spanned his shoulders was new.

  Lottie stood next to them, beaming. She whispered something to the men, and they promptly turned around.

  Seth’s eyes widened. He swallowed so hard his neck corded and his throat rippled.

  Becca’s heart skipped a beat and she froze. He didn’t look pleased. Her chest tightened around the fear he regretted his choice.

  She drew a scraping breath to tell him he could change his mind, but the words died on her tongue as the corners of his mouth lifted into the most heartfelt smile she’d ever seen. He held out his hand, and her anxiety fled. With much surer steps, she walked through the archway and into the room.

  Becca turned her head left when a clump of green brushed the edge of her vision. Her chest tightened again.

  Charlotte and her husband stood by the door, looking on with the same disdain they’d shown at the restaurant.

  Becca shared a wordless exchange with her former friend, then put the two of them out of her mind and joined her groom. The mere sight of him restored her smile.

  “You shaved,” she said, reaching to touch Seth’s bare face. Heat rose in hers when she realized what she’d done.

  Seth winked at her. He took her hand in his and faced Reverend Bell, who was smiling as heartily as his wife. “We’re ready.”

  Zebulon cleared his throat and lifted a worn, leather-bound book. “Dearly beloved...”

  Becca stole glances at her beloved as the words love, honor, and cherish flowed past her ears. By the time the reverend reached better or worse and richer or poorer, Seth’s adoring gaze was locked with hers. The warmth in his eyes melted away the hurts of the day and filled her heart with enough hope to last a lifetime.

  She still couldn’t believe she was standing here, marrying him. Not only did he stir her senses and turn her boneless with desire on sight, he was the one she wanted. The blatant love she felt for him banished all doubt. “I do.”

  “What therefore God has joined together, let not man put asunder.” Reverend Bell closed the book. “You may kiss your bride.”

  Seth framed Becca’s face with his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. His lips brushed and nibbled with a gentleness that belied the passion beneath. She had to restrain it, and she knew he did, too.

  Much too soon, he pulled away, his eyes searching hers once his face came back into view. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  A sudden draft chilled her back and she turned.

  Charlotte was gone.

  Harrison’s icy gaze lingered, touching on each one of them with unhurried regard, and then he left the way of his wife, closing the door behind him.

  Lottie stepped forward and gathered Becca into an exuberant hug. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Congratulations is right.” Zebulon shook Seth’s hand with the zeal of a man newly freed. “It was an honor to marry such fine people as yourselves. I hope you’ll stay for supper.”

  “Yes, do,” Lottie said. “Several ladies in town heard about Rebecca’s ordeal and insisted on providing a meal to celebrate your nuptials.”

  Seth looked to Becca and raised a brow.

  “Please stay,” Lottie entreated. “They’ll be so disappointed if you don’t.”

  Becca hoped she wouldn’t live to regret any of the words she said in Lottie’s parlor, including the next. “We’ll stay.”

  “That was a nice supper,” Seth remarked as they walked from the Bell’s house to the hotel.

  “Yes, it was,” Becca replied.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  She’d feared being a spectacle and an object of gossip. Thankfully, Lottie’s friends were as kind and loving as she. They asked about her trip and listened with rapt attention to her tales of survival, but they didn’t pry. “I did.”

  She wrapped her hand around Seth’s arm and leaned closer. The sun had disappeared and the air was growing cold.

  Keenly aware of his muscular frame brushing hers with each step, Becca drew a slow breath in hopes of calming her jangled nerves. She was on edge in both good ways and bad. The scent of Seth’s leather duster, mixed with the woodsy aroma of his skin, drew her like a honey bee to a field of spring flowers, but the potency of his presence was as daunting as it was beguiling.

  He opened the door to the hotel’s lobby and followed her inside.

  The proprietor looked up from his ledger and smiled. “Congratulations on your wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson.”

  “Thank you,” Seth said. “Is the tub available?”

  “Yes. I’ll have it brought right up.”

  Seth offered his arm again as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “I arranged for a hot bath. I figured we could both use one after the day we’ve had.”

  Becca’s muscles melted in anticipation, but her pulse sped faster than a hare being chased by a weasel.

  Seth stopped outside the door to their room, his profile bathed in amber light from the sconces that lined the hall, and withdrew a key from his pocket. With hands that looked much steadier than hers, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  He followed her inside.

  The room was simply furnished, but it was clean and neat. A dressing table stood to one side, while an upholstered chair and settee formed a grouping on the other. Light from two sconces flickered on the walls, warming the browns and blues of the damask. The same colors were repeated in the window curtains and the gathered cloth panels of the dressing screen in the far corner.

  “Will this do?” Seth asked.

  Becca jerked her attention to him. “Yes. It’s very nice.”

  Someone tapped on the doorframe behind them, and Seth turned around. “You can come in.”

  Two men carried in a large copper tub and set it on the floor. After making several trips with buckets of steaming water, they placed the dressing screen in front of the tub, nodded a polite farewell, and left.

  Seth closed the door and locked it, then faced her, rubbing the back of his neck as she willed her hands not to wring themselves raw. “Go ahead.” He handed over her valise and indicated the tub. “You first.”

  She gave him a shaky smile and hurried around the screen with her bag.

  After lighting the lantern that sat on a small table next to the tub and draping her nightgown over the screen, Becca removed her shoes and unfastened her buttons with trembling fingers. She wished Lottie had told her what to expect.

  The soft
scuff of boots on wood marked the seconds as she removed her petticoats and slid her chemise over her head, and the creak of a chair overshadowed the whisper of her drawers falling from her hips and puddling at her feet. Totally naked, she stepped into the tub and lowered herself into the heavenly water.

  Crystal clear ripples turned milky as she soaped herself, and the temperature began to cool as she rinsed. “I’m almost done,” she called, feeling guilty.

  “No rush. Take your time.”

  She swirled her hand through the water, recalling the time they’d soaked together in the spring. Why should he have to settle for seconds?

  Her heart fluttered. “There’s plenty of room... You could join me.” Becca stilled her hand and listened. If silence were money, they’d be rich.

  “Are you sure?”

  A thrill shot through her veins. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Boots scuffed the floor again and the light from the sconces went dark.

  Becca scooted forward and hugged her knees, her heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird. She glanced over her shoulder as Seth rounded the screen, tugging his shirt free of his pants, then she faced forward again and waited. She didn’t need to see him to know what he was doing. She’d heard his evening routine a hundred times.

  First came the pause while he unbuttoned his shirt, then the clicks of pewter on wood as he draped it over the nearest object—usually the wagon. Next, a masculine grunt... the sucking sound of his boot sliding free of his foot... his sigh of relief. The thunk—one, then the other—of the soles as he set them aside.

  Neatly. She smiled. Always neatly.

  Becca’s smile disappeared and she closed her eyes. Next came the sound that riddled her body with need and filled her mind with carnal thoughts.

  Jolts of awareness pulsed through her as Seth flicked open the buttons of his trousers one by one, and smoldering tremors ignited as he slid them off and lay them aside. On the trail, it would have stopped there, but not tonight. Tonight his drawers and woolens would follow.