The way his eyes roamed her face, around her hair, and down to her lips made her mouth go dry. The intensity of his gaze became too much, and she turned toward the fire. “I fear you do me too great an honor.” She found her courage and looked up. “As I said. We both have our reasons.”
His gaze narrowed. “You wish not to return to England.”
“That is true.” She turned the ring around her finger, noting not for the first time, how easily her new husband had slipped it onto her hand. How perfectly it fit. “Pray do not think ill of me.”
“Nay.” His hand came under her chin, nudging her face upward. But still she couldn’t look at him, for fear it might undo her.
“Look at me.” The gentle command in his silky baritone forced her eyes to meet his. Her breath caught when the clarity of his gentle blue eyes wove through hers.
“I would not think ill of you,” he whispered. “I could not think ill of a woman who offered her life to a stranger as you have done.” He lowered his hand, and the lack of his warm touch on her face left her wanting.
He continued. “No matter what transpires, know that I will give my best to you. This I promise.”
Anna’s vision clouded. She blinked to keep the mist from forming tears. Lord, what kind of man have you given me?
She swallowed, only speaking when she was sure her voice wouldn’t waver. “I believe you, William.” She stepped forward, reaching for his arm. “And I will do my best. Though I fear I am not…am not…as skilled as I should like to be. I will do my best to provide you a happy home.”
“I thank you for that. And believe me, I have no expectations.” William looked up and released a quick chuckle. “I am simply pleased you are not the kind of woman who is accustomed to fine linens and gowns, fancy meals at your beckoning, and servants to dress you. For I fear that is not the kind of life I can provide.”
He motioned to the kitchen and she walked beside him, pressing her hands against her stomach to hide the glistening sweat on her palms. How little they knew of each other. She breathed out a long exhale. Perhaps she should tell him of her past?
She stopped mid-step. That was not the only thing needing to be spoken. But it was too late, was it not? Speaking the truth of her barren womb would destroy the only lovely moment her life had known. She could not taint it with such sorrow. Not now.
“Mrs. Fredericks?” William said, stopping a few paces in front of her. “Is there something else?”
She stalled, scrambling for a way to answer. Tilting her head, she offered a crooked smile. “You may call me Anna.”
He stopped, his stare suddenly cold. He looked down, then toward the group in the kitchen before giving his attention back to her. The sudden darkness that shadowed his expression made Anna’s chest tighten.
“I thank you.” He looked down again then back at her, his mouth pressed so tight it seemed he couldn’t speak at all, and he didn’t. Only nodded.
Was it her name? She’d seen the shock in his eyes when she’d spoken it, his distress so apparent she’d almost feared he might refuse her altogether.
Whatever it was that pained him, whatever memory he carried, it was not hers to inquire. She buried the unpleasant sensation with a long, slow inhale. They both had secrets. But his, she believed, were far more painful than her own.
~~~
’Twas four days later when William entered the Watson’s parlor declaring the Attick’s’ home officially their own. The lining of Anna’s middle tickled with nerves. Their first days as husband and wife they’d spent at the Watson’s as there had been nowhere else for them to go until William had secured the farm. Congratulations were exchanged and Eliza promised to visit the following day. If only she knew how Anna needed her help and guidance, but saying so would only prove her worthlessness. Though it was true as the sun was yellow, Anna still refused to admit such.
Gathering their few belongings had taken only a handful of minutes, and now, as Anna walked side by side with her husband, the quiet road enclosed them in a canyon of large trees, their heavy shadows blanketing the road while the brilliant blue sky shown bright above them.
She clutched her small bag to her chest and looked down at the ring on her finger. Would she ever become accustomed to the sight? Someday, perhaps. She glanced beside her. William carried a basket full of garments their friends had insisted they take, as well as the items every female needed for her toilette. As it had since the moment she arrived in Sandwich, Anna’s spirit swelled with gratitude. Indeed she would find a way to give back to them the kindness they had offered. God only knew what it had done for her ailing heart.
William cleared his throat and jolted Anna away from the closet of her thoughts. “You are nervous.”
“I am?” A sprite giggle bubbled from her, one she forced more than felt. She relaxed her grip around the bag. “Nay…well, I suppose I am…a little.”
“If it is any comfort I am not in the least bit nervous.”
She glanced up. Only the lines around his eyes shifted, and she tried to read his face, straining to understand his meaning. Had he been genuine or had he—
“I am only joking.” His face bloomed.
Anna lowered her head and clutched the bag harder, releasing a laugh that took pressure from her chest. “I’m pleased to know I’m not a fool for feeling so.”
“Perhaps we are both fools.”
The statement was in turn tender and far too true. Perhaps they were both fools.
She voiced the questions that ate her from within. “How could we be given such a place? Complete strangers with not so much as a half-pence between us.”
“Doctor Smith said he vouched for our characters. We will care for the property, work the land, and soon be able to provide the money necessary to purchase it.”
The scowl on her face formed before she could stop it. She hadn’t any idea how to work land. She pulled her lip between her teeth. At least William did. And perhaps if she kept close enough to him to study how he worked, her deficiencies would be less discernible.
Walking side by side in silence as they did, reminded her of the first days they’d spent together. And the first nights. Even now his nearness created the same delicious tingles that she’d tried to ignore, for why should she feel this way? She allowed herself a quick peek at him and her pulse struggled to find a regular rhythm. His dark blonde hair seemed to glow in the sunlight, his freshly shaven jaw…. She stopped mid-thought and squinted. Aye, those were scars on his face. Few and faint, but visible. She looked away before he could catch her staring. Small pox. Those tell-tale scars were not to be mistaken. When had he endured it? How had he survived?
The sounds of their shoes against the ground and occasional song of a bird were the only disturbance in the expansive silence, bringing her once again to the place her mind seemed far too willing to venture. Those nights beside him in the Watson’s spare room…Anna blushed at the memory. Though they’d shared a bed, that was all they had done. He had not forced himself upon her. Did he not think it his right? Was he simply being chivalrous in allowing her time? Then again, considering they were not in their own home, perhaps he prepared to wait for tonight.
The thought fell so heavy from her mind she almost careened against the wall of it. Tonight.
William shifted the basket in his grasp, and blessedly stole her from the impassable thoughts. “When I surveyed the property yesterday, I found it more than fitting for our needs.” He offered a quick look before keeping his sight on the road. “There’s food aplenty. In fact, more than we can use. The vegetables are ready to harvest, and the apple trees are so laden the branches are near to touching the ground.”
He stopped and pointed to a small home at the end of the road. Behind it, a barn rested beside an expansive garden.
Beautiful.
She felt his heated gaze upon her. “What do you think of it?” he asked.
Think? She could hardly place two thoughts together. It looked like something out o
f a storybook. Quaint, cozy. In fact, ’twas what she’d dreamed for herself as a child. Far different from the opulent life into which she’d been born. ’Twas in such a place she imagined happy families lived and worked side by side, where parents cared for one another and bore children who thrived on the love of mother and father.
Anna’s hands shook when the truth arrested her hopes. Children would never be part of their future.
The air pled for an answer. She shifted her feet and inhaled, hiding the fears that bellowed within. “’Tis lovely. ’Tis perfect, really.”
With a single nod, a testament that he approved of her answer, William started again. Anna could not. Panic gripped her. She didn’t know how to harvest or bake, cook or preserve. She hadn’t any idea how to keep a house, to clean and launder. The only thing she could do was sew. A pitiful skill considering what necessities required proficiency. The realization of her lacking abilities seized until her legs cramped, holding her rigid, like a frightened animal in the road. She stared at the peaceful-looking home. Her home. Sweet, inviting and too dream-like to be described in words, and she, not worthy to sweep its floors. What have I done? She would fail him. Then he would regret his decision as powerfully as she regretted hers now.
William stopped a few paces ahead before coming back beside her. “Are you unwell? You look ashen.”
Anna took a deep breath, but hadn’t the strength to look at him when she answered. “I am well. Simply, overcome.”
His hand came to her elbow and she looked up, the understanding in his eyes dispelling the dark misgivings in the corners of her spirit. “Overcome in a pleasing way, I hope.”
She flung him a quick look, pulling her lips into a smile she prayed would bleed into her heart. The heat from the sun somehow gave her the strength she lacked as she forced her heavy legs to move again. This time he stayed beside her, matching her stride as they neared the welcoming cottage. It grew larger with every step forward. Its windows, like eyes upon a face, grew wider and brighter as if expressing its joy at their arrival.
“You are tired, no doubt.” William made conversation more easily than she was able. “Do not feel the need to begin chores today. This is new to both of us and certainly some rest is in order.”
He finished speaking just as they reached the door, and Anna gazed upward, looking over and around the house that would be hers—and his.
The red siding peeled in places, but the front step was swept clean and the air smelled of sun-kissed herbs.
William switched the basket to his other arm and reached around to open the door. “Welcome home, Mrs. Fredericks.”
~~~
William clenched his chest so tight only the tiniest breath could squeeze through his lungs. His wife stood motionless at the threshold, peering into the house as if she were making a mental inventory of everything she could see without moving a muscle.
His hand around the woven basket gripped harder and a twig snapped. Was she waiting for him to carry her in? Wasn’t that a tradition? Is that what her departed husband had done for her the day they married?
Just when he thought his chest would burst from lack of air, she stepped in and he released a silent breath. Either she hadn’t expected it, or he’d waited too long. Thankfully, the moment had passed and he could move on to the next inevitable blunder.
As he would have expected, she walked straight to the kitchen fire, depositing her bag on the table that rested in the center of the room. Small as the house was, the kitchen, dining room, and parlor were all the same space, reminiscent of the dilapidated cabin they’d shared that first night. Only this place was clean, well kept, and larger. The loft space was sufficient for a full bedroom, complete with a fireplace directly above the one downstairs. Another room, most likely where the Mr. And Mrs. Attick had slept, rested behind a door adjacent to the fireplace on the main floor.
“Mrs. Fredericks?” He used the name he intended for her to temper his tongue to the taste of it, as well as allow her to get used to the sound. Saying her first name would take time.
She didn’t look but went to the cabinet beside the fire, opening doors and drawers, inspecting the contents.
He tried again. “Mrs. Fredericks?”
Still, she didn’t hear him.
He ground his teeth then spoke the name he loathed. “Anna.”
She jolted and slammed the cupboard shut as if she’d done something she shouldn’t. “Aye?” Her eyes were wide and her cheeks painted red.
He set the basket on the floor beside the table. “Allow me to show you the property and then you may have all the time you need to discover what tools are available for your needs.”
A quick, tight smile darted across her face before a solemn expression darkened the hue of her eyes. “Of course.”
She hurried to him and he debated the wisdom of questioning the sudden change in countenance, but thought better of it. They were both nervous, scared, and walking on a bed of eggshells that would surely crack any moment, exposing the truth they’d concealed in a mess of foul reality. Neither of them were ready for that.
He followed the short hall to the back door and led her toward the garden. The scent of dirt, manure, and vegetables drifted on the air.
William peered over his shoulder. All the color that had moments ago dusted her cheeks was gone. She stared, mouth tight, at the garden. Her hands clutched her skirts. Worry niggled a hole through his gut. Perhaps all this, though more than provided for him, was insufficient in her eyes. He knew nothing of the home she’d had before. And although she’d been poor, perhaps she’d had more at her disposal.
A thought struck him across the face, pushing a question to view in his mind. Perhaps it was not the house or the garden…perhaps it is me. She had married someone she didn’t love and therein lay the reason for the sudden changes in her color, the hard line of her mouth.
Her mouth.
In a single thought the anxieties dissolved. He allowed his vision to trace her as she walked around the garden. He’d never thought her lips could be so incomparably soft. The tiny breath she’d taken as he’d pressed his mouth against hers had sparked a sudden need to hold her tighter. Thankfully, he’d heeded greater wisdom and pulled away before the impression of her lips was forever branded on his memory.
“Is that water I hear?” she asked.
Grateful for her question, which distracted him from the precarious cliff he had perched himself on, he motioned sideways. “Aye, there’s a creek to the right of us. I’ll show you.”
Her sculpted eyebrows rose, and she lifted her skirts as she stepped out of the beans and cabbages. “Is that where we shall fetch our water?”
The question stalled him. Had she not seen the well? He motioned behind them. “Nay, there’s no need for that. The well will serve fine enough. Though of course the creek will be helpful for washing and laundering in the summer months.”
Instantly, the color returned to her cheeks. “Oh, of course.” She turned away, once again gripping her skirt.
The small trail at the back of the garden led down a path no more than thirty feet to the creek.
He stopped at the rocky edge and she beside him. The breeze toyed with the black strands of her hair that freed themselves from their pins. A fragrance he’d noticed since their wedding teased the air around him. He couldn’t name the scent, but could detect the slightest lavender, fresh and inviting.
Bending down, he gave his hands something to do other than wish for the feeling of that black curl against his skin. He plucked a rock from the ground and stood, rubbing it in his fingers.
He followed her gaze to the water. “It doesn’t race much now, but come spring it will be quite full.”
A faint breath eased from her mouth, and her shoulders dropped. “’Tis a lovely place. So calming.”
The sentiment took him aback, and he permitted his eyes to roam the scenery. Trees banked the river on the side where they stood, tall grasses on the other. No more than ten feet
wide, the water belied a depth of three feet or more.
“On days when the water flows heavy, you should keep far from the center.”
She faced him. “To where does it flow?”
“The ocean.”
Nodding, she turned to the trail and started back. “How far away is the ocean?”
“A mile and a half.”
The sun blazed against her hair, the black tendrils shimmering. He lengthened his stride, for standing beside her made it more difficult to study her profile and the perfect way her small ears framed her head. Any allowance he made in that arena—memorizing her—would only fashion problems he would later regret.
Once again at the garden, she lifted her chin as she gazed at the house. “’Tis a far better house than I could have asked for.”
William stalled. Did she speak in truth? “I am pleased you approve.”
She continued past, tossing him a blithe but reserved expression. “I should like to see more of the inside now, if I may.”
“Of course.”
After a quick tour of the one large room below stairs and the loft above, William stumbled upon the glaring absence of a second bed. He’d not noticed before, but now, the thought consumed him. After sleeping side by side and not having touched more than the lace of her sleeves, he began to wonder if he could endure sharing a bed—and nothing more. He shook his head. It made perfect sense that they hadn’t been together, seeing as they’d had little privacy at the Watson’s. But now that they had their own home, did she expect it? Certainly not.
The circle of questions made him dizzy. Physical attraction was no worry where he was concerned—he’d rarely met anyone so lovely—but such a union should be enjoyed only when both parties were wanting. Though they were clearly civil with one another, intimacy was a different realm entirely. He could never force such a thing upon their relationship.
Suddenly he couldn’t feel his limbs. He needed space and a wealth of fresh air.
“I’ll let you have a moment while I make sure we’ve enough wood for the fire.”
He started for the door when she called for him.
So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3) Page 11