Evie’s palm bounced off his bicep, her blue eye shooting sparks at him even as her brown eye warmed in welcome. They hadn’t seen each other in over a year, and Zach had to admit that he felt a nearly irresistible urge to wrap her in a bear hug. Not that he would. One Hamilton making a scene was plenty.
“I wouldn’t have been forced to rely on such theatrics if you had given me more than a few hours’ notice that you were getting married. Married, Zach! And I almost missed it.” Her forehead creased, and her gaze darted to the parlor doorway and back, her haunted look piercing his hide. “I didn’t miss it, did I?”
All right. Maybe he should have given her a little extra notice. But he’d told her she didn’t have to come, that it was more of a business partnership than an actual marriage. As if that would matter to Evie—the girl who put family above everything. He should have known his little sister would move heaven and earth to get here in time.
“Nah. You didn’t miss it.”
A smile broke out across her face bright enough to light the entire house. “Good! Because there’s no way I’d let you get married without your family by your side.”
That was when the hug hit. Evie hurled herself at him, forcing him to catch her. It was a trick she’d been using since she was a kid to get him to hold her, since he wasn’t exactly the affectionate sort. Although when he wrapped his arms around her, a warmth infused his chest he hadn’t realized he’d missed.
“Ah, Zach? You gonna introduce us to your company?” Reuben sounded as though he were stifling a laugh. At Zach’s expense, of course.
Zach set Evie away from him and turned to his best friend, only to catch a glimpse of Abigail from the corner of his eye. A very pale Abigail who looked as if someone had just stolen her bakery out from under her.
Zach’s gaze zipped past Reuben to land on the face of his bride, though her attention seemed fixed on Evie, not him. “This is my sister, Evangeline Fowler.”
Abigail blinked a couple times, then finally managed to meet his eyes. Her brows arched in question, even as her expression warmed with an ember of hope. “Your sister?”
“Yep.” Zach jabbed a thumb in the direction of the front door without really looking at the man standing just inside. “And that fella over there’s her husband, Logan.”
Abigail’s attention darted toward the doorway, a hint of dimple finally coming out of hiding.
“Don’t forget me.” Zach’s adopted brother, Seth, pushed past Logan and slipped through the mingling crowd.
“Seth!” Zach grinned and held out his hand even as he scanned his brother with a critical eye for any sign of distress. Seth’s asthma had nearly killed him as a kid. A couple times as an adult too. Thankfully, he seemed healthy enough at present, though Zach couldn’t help but start cataloguing anything in the house that might cause an attack to flare up. Old habits died hard.
Seth gripped Zach’s hand and pulled him in close to slap his back. “Good to see you, Zach.”
“You too. How’s Christie?” Zach asked as they separated.
“Glowing.” Seth grinned, and Zach swore his brother’s chest puffed out an extra inch or two. “Another month, and you’ll be an uncle.”
“Hard to believe.” Zach had gotten a little practice playing uncle with Archie, the baby brother of Seth’s wife, who’d come to live with them before Zach left the homestead in Pecan Gap, but the thought of Seth actually having a kid of his own—well, it made Zach feel like maybe he hadn’t completely screwed up Seth’s and Evie’s futures.
As good as it was to see his family, and as much as he wanted to catch up with them and revel in the reunion, this moment wasn’t just about him. He held out a hand to Abigail. “Seth, Evie . . . Logan,” he added as an afterthought when Evie’s husband came up behind her and placed a possessive hand at her waist. Zach and Logan shared a complicated past, but like it or not, the man was family now. “This is Abigail. My bride.”
Her hand slid into his, and the feel of her skin on his roughened palm sent a surge of possessiveness stabbing through him. He tightened his hold and drew her into the circle of his family. After today, she’d be part of this circle, too.
“Hello,” she said, her voice quiet and a touch shy, making him want to wrap his arm around her and offer shelter.
“I’m delighted to meet you, Abigail.” Evie smiled wide and bright, though her face held a trace of trepidation as well. Usually when people met Evie for the first time, her mismatched eyes spooked them. One dark brown, the other vividly blue. It could be a tad unnerving. Zach would have warned Abigail so she’d be prepared, but he hadn’t expected Evie to show up tonight.
He snuck a peek at Abigail’s face from the corner of his eye. Thankfully he saw no judgment or discomfort. Only a touch of nervousness, which was to be expected when meeting a sister-in-law for the first time.
“Zach has told me a little about how you came to be a family,” Abigail said, her smile bringing those dimples to the party again. “I look forward to getting to know each of you.” She smiled at Seth and Logan in turn, her confidence growing. “Let me introduce you to my sister, Rosalind. Rosie?” Abigail craned her neck around. “Come meet your new family.”
As Rosalind stepped forward to greet the newcomers, Evie poked Zach in the side and whispered, “I like her.”
Zach said nothing, but his chest expanded—much, he imagined, like Seth’s had earlier.
I like her too.
After a quarter hour of introductions and a surplus of chatting that had no end in sight, Zach prodded the minister to get on with things. Brother Samuelson made some quip about an eager groom, eliciting a chuckle from the room and a blush from the bride, but it did the trick. People starting milling into the parlor.
The preacher took his place by the hearth, and Zach moved to stand beside him. He turned to locate Abigail and promptly lost his grip on his jaw. It hung loose from its joists as Zach absorbed the beauty of the woman before him.
She had removed her coat and handed it to her sister, accepting a small bouquet of bright pink flowers from Reuben’s wife and giving Zach his first unobstructed view of her wedding finery. His practical, businesswoman bride looked like a princess from a storybook.
Zach forced his jaw closed and managed a swallow despite the rapidly shrinking collar at his throat. He’d known she was pretty, but this? This woman was fit for a prince, and he—well, he was fit for mucking a prince’s stables.
“Smile, idiot, before you scare her off,” Reuben muttered from somewhere to Zach’s left.
Smile. Yeah, he could do that. Maybe.
Zach’s lips twitched, but the effort must have fallen short, for when Abigail reached his side, she lifted up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “There’s a back door through the kitchen if you want to make a run for it.”
She smiled, and his tension evaporated. He reached out, captured her hand, and fit her palm into the crook of his arm. “No one’s gonna be running anywhere, Miss Kemp.”
He might not be ideal husband material, but his daddy had taught him never to question good fortune. You just snatched it up when it was in front of you and did your best not to lose it in the next hand.
Zach nodded to Brother Samuelson. “We’re ready.”
The preacher did his duty and spat out all the necessary words. A bucketful of unnecessary ones as well, but Zach endured without fidgeting too much. Abigail’s hand on his arm made the pontification bearable.
At the appropriate time, he promised to stick by her for better or worse, to cherish her, and to keep himself faithful unto her for all his days. Abigail did the same, even agreeing to obey him when the minister insisted, though she added a caveat of obeying “in domestic matters” under her breath that only the three of them heard, making Samuelson raise a brow and Zach cough to cover an ill-timed laugh.
Then came time for the ring. Please, God, let it fit. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass his bride on her wedding day. Too small, and he wouldn’t be able
to get it on her finger. Too large, and he’d insult her.
Zach reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the smooth gold band he’d purchased that afternoon. He’d studied Abigail’s hands the past couple mornings when she served him breakfast in her shop, taking her measure as best he could without actually touching her. She had strong, working hands. Capable fingers. Wider than her sister’s but thinner than his own meaty paws. In the end, he’d decided to purchase a band that fit the widest part of his smallest finger.
Holding his breath when the minister directed him to place the ring on her finger, Zach slipped it past the first knuckle. He had to muscle it over her second knuckle, which brought a film of perspiration to his brow as doubts jabbed at him, but once the ring made it over the mountain, it slid into the valley with no resistance. Silently thanking God for answering his prayer, he let out the breath he’d been holding and spoke the required words. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Brother Samuelson grinned his approval. “What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.”
Zach set his jaw at the preacher’s words. No man would be putting anything asunder in this marriage. He guarded what was his, and as of this moment, Abigail Kemp was his.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Abigail’s eyes widened slightly as Zach bent his head. He hated that their first kiss was up for public consumption, but if she expected him to give her a polite buss on the cheek, she was fixin’ to be disappointed.
He wanted no doubt in anyone’s mind, especially his new wife’s, that this marriage was real. So he cupped her face between his hands, burrowed his fingers into the fancy hairdo at the back of her head, and slanted his mouth over hers.
CHAPTER
13
Abigail’s pulse hiccupped as Zach lowered his face toward hers, and when their lips touched—mercy, but her knees nearly buckled. He was kissing her. Honest-to-goodness kissing. As if he meant it. As if this marriage were something more than a business arrangement. As if he actually had feelings for her.
His hands on her face held her upright. Strong. Insistent. Yet tender at the same time. And when his fingers moved through her hair, shivers coursed down her neck and over her shoulders. For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful. Desired.
By Zacharias Hamilton.
Leaning into him, she kissed him back. His hold on her shifted, gentled, even as his kiss deepened.
Until the clapping started. And the hooting. And the whistling.
By the time Zach pulled away, Abigail’s cheeks smoldered. She tried to hide by ducking her head, but Zach tucked her arm into the crook of his and forced her around to face the gathering.
Brother Samuelson’s voice rang out behind them. “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Zacharias Mitchell Hamilton.”
Mrs. Zacharias Hamilton. The name felt surreal. But where had the Mitchell come from? Zach’s middle name? She’d never attended a wedding where the groom’s middle name was used in the pronouncement. She slanted a questioning look at her new husband, but he was too busy dragging her over to the well-wishers to notice.
She had so much to learn. About him. About his family. She slanted another glance at him, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. About how to kiss properly.
Would he be expecting such liberties on a regular basis? Anticipation swirled in her belly. She wouldn’t be opposed to a few kisses every now and then. Not if the sample she’d received was an accurate indicator of what could be expected in the future.
Fortunately, now was not the time to ponder her new husband’s expectations in regard to physical intimacies. Family and friends waited to celebrate, and heaven knew Abigail could use the distraction.
As the men circled around Zach and engaged in a raucous round of backslapping, the women flocked to Abigail and spirited her off to the kitchen, where aprons were passed around and food was set out.
Being in the kitchen settled Abigail’s nerves as nothing else could. Audrey Sinclair tried to stick her in a corner, claiming the bride should not be allowed to work, but Abigail insisted. She sliced cheese, poured water, and set platters on the table. Basically any task with a low probability of soiling her dress. While Audrey finished frying the potatoes and Rosalind made fresh coffee, Abigail unboxed her cake and started slicing.
“That looks delicious,” Evie declared, coming up beside her. “Do you use a boiled icing or an unboiled one?”
Abigail smiled. “Unboiled. But I do melt the chocolate ahead of time. It incorporates better than grated chocolate.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
Pausing with her knife above the cake, Abigail glanced at her new sister-in-law. “Does Zach like chocolate?” She hated admitting that she didn’t know the answer to that question, but she needed to start learning his preferences sometime. Having his sister at hand afforded the perfect opportunity. “The cake itself is white, but chocolate just seemed to fit him better.”
As if a man’s coloring determined his flavor preferences. She gave her head a tiny shake. Perhaps she’d been working in the bakery too long, matching people with food based on appearances.
“I’m not sure.” Evie shrugged. “We rarely had chocolate around the house growing up. But if you made it, I’m sure he’ll love it.” She touched Abigail’s shoulder and grinned. She really was a cheerful sort. And those eyes—so expressive. Abigail found it hard not to stare.
Forcing her attention back to the cake, Abigail brought the knife down for the next cut. “Will you be in town long? I’d love the chance to visit with you. To learn more about your brother.” She lowered her voice. “You might not realize, but our marriage is a bit . . . unconventional. We haven’t actually courted, so beyond his preference for sticky buns, his skill with lumber, and his penchant for rescuing bakers in distress, I really know very little about him.” Pulling the knife from the cake, she pivoted to face Evie. “I want to be a good wife to him. I swear I’m not just using him to get out of a bind.” Shame bent her gaze downward. “Well, I am, but—”
A hand on her arm stopped her rambling. Slowly, Abigail lifted her face to meet the vivid eyes of the woman before her.
“I’ve prayed for you,” Evie said. “For more than a year now.”
Abigail’s brow scrunched. More than a year? How was that even possible? She’d never met Evangeline Fowler before today, and judging by the commotion Evie made when she first arrived, Zach’s sister hadn’t known about her brother’s nuptials until this morning.
Evie laughed at her consternation. “Oh, I might not have known your name, but God did.” She smiled and pulled two chairs from the table, then motioned for Abigail to sit. “Ever since Logan came into my life, and Christie into Seth’s, I’ve pleaded with the Lord to bring the right woman into Zach’s life as well.” Her expression softened. “He gave up his future to take care of us when we were kids. He made sacrifice after sacrifice to ensure we had food to eat and a place to lay our heads.” She met Abigail’s gaze. “Some of those sacrifices carried prices he’s still paying.”
Abigail wanted to ask. Heavens, how she wanted to ask. But a crowded kitchen with children rambling about wasn’t the place. And really, the story should come from her husband, not his sister. Perhaps in time . . .
“You,” Evie pronounced with a tap to Abigail’s knee, “are the answer to those prayers.”
Abigail started to shake her head, but Evie stopped her with a wagging finger.
“Nope. No arguments. I asked the Lord to bring the right woman into Zach’s life, and He brought you. Therefore, you are the right woman. Never doubt it.”
Could it possibly be true? In Abigail’s selfish quest to find a husband to save her bakery, had Providence brought her into the life of a man who needed her as a wife? Abigail’s chin came up a notch, the idea shifting her perspective and planting a sense of purpose in her heart.
If Zach needed her as much as she needed h
im, well, that opened an entire realm of possibilities.
Abigail reached for Evie’s hand. “You are staying a few days, right? I have a hundred questions for you.”
Zach’s sister laughed. “I’d love nothing better than to tell stories on Zach all weekend, but I’m afraid we’re heading back to Pecan Gap in the morning. Seth refuses to be away from Christie for more than one night.” She leaned forward, a twinkle shining in her blue eye. “She’s expecting their first baby.”
“How wonderful!” Abigail smiled even as her spine sagged in disappointment. She was venturing into an unknown country, and the most experienced guide available was leaving her to flounder about on her own.
“You ladies ready for me to call the men?” Audrey Sinclair shot the question over her shoulder while sliding sizzling potato slices onto an already heaping platter.
No! I need more time. But, of course, that wasn’t what Abigail said. She rose from her chair, smiled, and resumed slicing the cake. “Sure.”
Audrey sent her daughter Dinah to fetch the men from the parlor, and voices soon echoed through the hall as the herd approached.
Evie stood and leaned in close. “I will give you one piece of advice, though.”
Abigail turned her head, cake forgotten. “What?”
“Don’t expect him to tell you how he feels,” Evie murmured, glancing toward the doorway as the voices increased in volume. “Look for his feelings in his actions. That’s where they live.” The men poured into the kitchen, and Evie waved to her husband. “Zach’s more of a grunter than a sharer,” she said in parting, “but don’t let that fool you. His heart is as big as they come.”
Abigail knew he had a big heart. He never would have let her talk him into this arrangement if he didn’t. But would she ever be able to claim a piece of that heart as her own?
She stared at the man standing just inside the door, the man chatting with a brother he’d obviously missed, yet a man who also seemed to sense her regard, for he turned his head and pinned her with his dark blue eyes.
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