Ophelia: A Valentine's Day Bride (Brides of Noelle, Love For All Seasons Book 1)

by Kit Morgan

  “Have they?” he asked softly. “Found you a husband?”

  “No – they seem to be in short supply here, unless I’m willing to marry a miner. Which I’d rather not.” She put a hand on his chest, but that felt too bold and she quickly lowered it. “There was a man the mayor invited to dinner the night we were also dining with him, but he couldn’t come.”

  “What man was that?”

  Ophelia stared up at him. “I don’t know. Not a miner, though.”

  Clint stared at the wall behind her for a moment. “Hmm, I think I know who. But never mind about him.” He looked at her again. “Do you want to stay here in Noelle, Ophelia?”

  “As I said, I have nowhere else to go. And I want to help Felicity finish what she and I have started. There’s so little opportunity here for women, but so much potential.”

  He still held her shoulders as he stepped closer. “And you’ll marry here? Start a family, go to church on Sundays, belong to whatever sort of clubs and committees the women start here? Never to return to Denver again?”

  She stared at him. “Well, I suppose, though if my father and I … wait, why are you asking?” She straightened, her hands going to her hips. “Clint Jones, what are you up to?”

  His eyes roamed her face, his expression changing to one she didn’t recognize. “Ophelia, you could have any man you want …”

  “In Denver maybe, but my father never liked anyone I would have wanted.”

  “Is that why you got involved with the Suffragettes? His choice of suitors weren’t to your liking?”

  She frowned, slightly offended. Did he really think her belief in women’s rights was so shallow? “No, it’s because I believe in the cause.”

  “Will marrying a man Rev. Hammond picks for you be any better?”

  “At least he won’t choose some snob who wants me chained to the kitchen stove all day.”

  He sighed. “Ophelia, don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “No, I really don’t.” She took a step back – this line of conversation was starting to annoy her. “Maybe you should just say it.”

  He stared at her with that odd look again. “You deserve so much more than what anyone here has to offer.”

  “Well, that may be.” Ophelia crossed her arms. “But what am I supposed to do about it? And why would you care, anyway?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Clint sighed. He never should have brought it up. How could he claim not one man in Noelle was good enough for her? It wasn’t like he knew. “What I meant to say was … are you willing to wait until someone suitable comes along?” Tarnation, that didn’t come out right either …

  She cocked her head to one side in the most adorable way. “Wait?” Her face fell. “What are you getting at?”

  He shook his head. He was handling this badly. In truth, he wanted to know if she really planned to stay in Noelle - but not for her, for him. Which meant the better question was, could he stay in Noelle? He sighed, removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, those big violet eyes full of concern.

  “I … I’m not sure. Maybe I should figure that out.”

  “Can I help?”

  He turned to her and managed a strangled chuckle. “Honey, I wish you could. But I’m the one that has to deal with this.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not understanding this.”

  “You don’t have to.” He glanced at the stairs. “What’s up there?”

  “A small parlor and more rooms. Penny and Felicity think we could house up to twelve women here.”

  “And where would you sleep?”

  “Me?” Her eyes flicked around the room as if looking for a corner to set up a cot. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you planning to stay with the reverend and his wife?”

  She stared at him a moment. He could tell she was trying to figure out his line of questioning. Heck, he was trying to figure it out. Maybe he was asking because he wanted her to wait for him. No ifs, ands or buts – Ophelia Rathbone had gotten under his skin.

  “Clint?”

  His chest warmed at the sound of his name on her lips. “Ophelia, I’m not making much sense, am I?”

  She smiled and shook her head again.

  “I should get you back to the Golden Nugget where it’s warm,” he said, unable to keep the regret out of his voice.

  She cocked her head again, reminding him of a little bird. “We’ve hardly seen the town.”

  “Honey, I don’t need to see the town.” What he needed to see was the outcome of the decision he was about to make. If he left Noelle and Ophelia behind, he might regret it the rest of his life. He’d known other women, even thought he’d been in love a few times, but not like this.

  Ophelia Rathbone made him want to be a better man. He hadn’t needed redemption or forgiveness from anyone in his life, hadn’t needed to make changes to better himself up to this point. He had a good job, made enough to get by, got to see places and even enjoy a certain amount of adventure and excitement. But with Ophelia he felt something he’d never experienced before: whole. And he hadn’t even kissed her yet! If he felt this good just being around her, what was that going to be like?

  “Clint, say something,” she prompted. “You’re just staring at the wall with this funny look on your face.”

  “I was?” He looked at her and laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you. On the contrary, honey, I was thinking about you.”

  “You were?” She smiled shyly. “That sounds nice when you say that. Honey.”

  He smiled as his chest warmed, spreading to his belly and beyond. “I guess I say it because you’re so sweet.”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “That’s what everyone says, but sweet doesn’t get you very far in this world. Or so my father tells me.”

  “Maybe part of the time. Being sweet and kind can help things along, but you also have to know how to handle yourself, be discerning.”

  Her eyes went to the floor. “Yes, I need to work on that.”

  He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “It’s easy to learn. You just need to know what signs to look for. There are a lot of cheats and liars out there, Ophelia, folks that would take advantage of someone like you if they could. Especially if they know about your daddy’s money.”

  She laughed. “I don’t have to worry about that – Father cut me off without a penny. I have only the clothes I’m wearing and what’s in my room back at the Golden Nugget.”

  Anger filled him, but he batted it down. “How could your father do such a thing?”

  “Because he wants to run my life, Clint – tell me what to do, whom my friends should be, who to marry. And I won’t let him. He didn’t even like my charity work.”

  Clint took a deep breath to calm himself. He’d very much like to punch J.T. Rathbone in the nose, but that wasn’t possible. Or wise – that would get him fired. “Are you going to miss his money?”

  “I don’t know. I’m still trying to wrap my head around him disowning me. I’ve written him since my arrival, but who knows if I’ll hear from him, or when …”

  Clint could stand it no longer, and pulled her into his arms. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Your father’s a fool to treat you this way. I’m sure he’ll come around in time.”

  “I hope so,” she said into his chest. “I’m trying to look on the bright side.”

  He laughed and pulled away. Holding her was natural, and she didn’t protest, but he wanted to see her face when she spoke. “What’s the bright side?”

  “Well, I have the freedom I wanted. And now no one’s going to try to marry me just for my money.”

  He laughed again. “That’s true. But I think any man would consider himself rich to have you as his wife.” Without waiting for a response, he pulled her close again, held her a moment, then forced himself to let go. What he was doing was improper and they both knew it, though sti
ll Ophelia didn’t protest. “We’d best get back.”

  She looked at him. “Clint, I’m going to say something … very bold.”

  His eyebrows shot up. Was she going to tell him she had feelings for him? “All right, let’s hear it.”

  “You’re an agent for Wells Fargo – do you know my father? Not just who he is, I mean – have you met him?”

  His spine stiffened. He knew where this is going, but he couldn’t lie. “Yes, Ophelia, I’ve met him several times. I guess you could say he’s my boss –more like the boss of my boss, or something higher up the –”

  She squirmed out of his embrace and stepped away. “I knew it!”

  “Ophelia?” He tried to close the distance between them.

  “No!” She pointed a finger at him. “I should’ve known my father would send someone after me! You tell him I’m not coming back!”

  “Ophelia …”

  “Forget it! I don’t know how he knew where I was – maybe because Felicity had written …”

  Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ophelia, that’s not why –”

  “If you think you’re going to drag me back so he can rule my life again, you’ve got another thing coming!”

  Clint did his best not to groan. “For Heaven’s sake, woman, will you let me speak?!”

  She stood, frowning, eyes narrowed. “Do you deny it?”

  “Yes, by Jove, I deny it! I’m not here to take you back to Denver – I’m here to see if Noelle is fit to open a Wells Fargo branch here! Nothing more.”

  Her face twisted in confusion. “But if that’s so, why are you still here? It shouldn’t take you that long to assess the town.”

  “No, it shouldn’t have, but I made some false assumptions the first day I was here and misjudged the town and its people, so I had to start over.”

  She blinked at him a few times. “Assumptions? What assumptions could you make about this place?”

  He looked at her, his eyes falling to her lips. “To tell you the truth, I’m afraid I started with you. Looking back, I’m not sure why – maybe my brain was addled the moment I saw you.”

  “What?” she said in surprise. “How could I do that?”

  “How?” he laughed. “Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. What man wouldn’t be befuddled in your presence?”

  She stared at him in shock. “You mean, when you first met me?”

  “Yes! I’m surprised I didn’t fall headfirst out the window.”

  Ophelia laughed. “I’m lucky I didn’t too, come to that.” She got her giggling under control and looked at him. “Clint, why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Clint was sure he’d regret this, but he needed to get all his cards on the table, he knew. “Because …” His shoulders slumped, and he looked away in shame. “… because I thought you were a whore.”

  “You … thought … WHAT?!” Ophelia asked in horror. How could he think such a thing? How could he … she shoved all thoughts aside, spun on her heel and headed for the door.

  “Ophelia!” he pleaded, running after her. He caught her at the door. “Wait …”

  “Let go of me!”

  “No, I’m not going to let go of you. Please, listen – don’t make the same mistake I did.”

  “What mistake?” she snapped.

  “Assuming that I don’t care about you.”

  That got her attention. She stared at him with her mouth wide open. “What?”

  “Look, honey, I found you staying in a room over a saloon. What was I supposed to think?”

  “You could have asked!”

  “As I recall, I did ask some questions, and your answers could have been interpreted either way. I admit, I chose the wrong way.”

  “But do I look like … one of those women?” she asked, heard the hurt in her voice and hoped he heard it too.

  “What does ‘one of those women’ look like, exactly?”

  Ophelia froze, realizing she had started sliding toward snobbishness. “Those women” were the ones she wanted to help, yet here she was, once again acting like they were beneath her.

  Clint’s voice brought her back to the present. “I kept telling myself that you couldn’t possibly be, but I started seeing other things that made the whole town look bad – things that also were subject to interpretation, I realize now.”

  “So what changed your mind? Why didn’t you just leave after the first couple of days and make your report?”

  He laughed. “You, that’s why.” He pulled her into his arms again.

  She knew she should fight him and run away – after all, they were alone, unchaperoned, in a dimly-lit building. This went well beyond improper. And yet she found she had no desire to go.

  “My heart couldn’t believe it,” he continued. “Refused to believe it. Then Chase Hammond finally set me straight.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I would’ve loved to have been there to hear that.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t. It was humbling enough.”

  “And what do you think of the town now?”

  “I think it’ll do.” He reached up and brushed a wisp of hair from her face. “There are a lot of things in Noelle I think people will like if they settle here. It’s a beautiful place.” He gazed into her eyes.

  She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the town or her. She knew she was pretty – her father had used her beauty to his advantage over the years. To him, she was more a trophy than a daughter – and to her, that was one more reason to leave.

  “Can you forgive me?” he asked.

  She sighed heavily. “You know, I met one of the ladies from across the street a few days ago, in this very building.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “I don’t know if you saw the Gazette, but there was an article in it about a petition a couple of women started to rid the town of all its vice.”

  “Yes, I heard about that.”

  “Did you see the actual article?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Well, two of the railroad wives started the petition, but the paper printed that Felicity and I had. The woman from across the street saw it and pitched quite a fit. I gathered she must be the madam.”

  His eyes filled with concern, making her shiver. “What did she say to you?”

  “Nothing anyone else in her position wouldn’t say. She’s afraid of losing her home, her business, and she was fighting for it. I know she’s a fallen woman, but in that moment I admired her willingness to speak up. I guess I’ve been so used to my father telling me what to do that I’ve never really stood up for myself, not like she did. I want to be able to talk and fight like that, to really speak my mind.”

  He smiled. “As I said before, there’s nothing wrong with being sweet and kind, Ophelia. But to have those attributes and the strength to speak up takes balance. Maturity. Practice.”

  She nodded. “I came to that same conclusion myself. I just wish I knew how.”

  He chuckled. “Ophelia, you’re doing it right now.”

  “I am?” she said in surprise.

  He smiled. “Yes. You stood up for yourself when you thought I was here to take you back to your father. And you didn’t throw anything at me while doing it – that’s a plus. You have the strength to admit your weaknesses.” His eyes roamed her face. “I’d say you’re well on your way to becoming the woman you want to be.” And before Ophelia knew it, his lips were on hers.

  The kiss was slow, languid, and it was all Clint could do to stop. But finally he lifted his lips from hers. “Ophelia, I didn’t mean …” He loathed having to do it, but he let her go.

  She pulled away too. “Clint … I … we shouldn’t have …”

  “I know. Let’s get outside. We’ve lingered here too long.” Long enough for her reputation to be in jeopardy, thanks to him. He turned her around and opened the door.

  She preceded him outside, waited for him to close the door behind them and rele
ased her breath. “Have you seen the post and freight yet?”

  His brow furrowed. “At this point I think I’d better get you back to the Golden Nugget. Besides, it’s freezing out here.”

  She crossed her arms and shivered. “So you’re done? You don’t want to see anything more?”

  “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” He took her arm, wrapped it around his and ushered her toward the street. He felt like a cad for stealing a kiss, and hoped and prayed no one saw them go in or come out of the abandoned building. He still had things to sort out before making a decision, and the last thing he wanted to do was damage her reputation in the process. He shouldn’t have kissed her - it was wrong.

  Then there was the whole soiled dove business – what kind of a man did she think he was? He should give her a day or two to settle that for herself, by which time he’d hopefully have figured out what to do. One thing he did know: he was quickly falling for Ophelia. But how she felt about him at this point was not entirely clear. Granted, she didn’t pull away from the kiss …

  They entered the Golden Nugget, teeth chattering, and went straight to the bar. “Seamus, two coffees,” Clint called.

  “Right away!” the barkeep said, heading to the back.

  Clint steered Ophelia toward the stove at the other end of the room. Several miners were milling about. One of them whistled at her, and Clint had to resist the urge to sock him. He settled for growling, “Let the lady through to get warm,” and the men gave them a wide berth.

  “Thank you,” she said. “But you didn’t have to chase them away.”

  “They need to learn manners,” he said. “They shouldn’t treat a lady so callously.”

  Her eyes darted around the saloon. “I wonder if they think I’m a fallen woman too.”

  Clint also looked around. “A lot of new men are coming into town, so … it’s possible. And we are in a saloon.”

  “I suppose you’re right. If there weren’t so many newcomers, it wouldn’t be a problem. They whistle and hoot at Felicity too.”

  “Until they have to deal with Rev. Hammond or Seamus,” he added.