“Say it again, and I will shoot you.”
Frances had said the words she was sure he expected, and he gave a soft chuckle, but she had liked hearing him say she looked beautiful. What was wrong with her? It had always irritated her when men would try to compliment her looks. She’d always declared there was so much more to her than her appearance.
But there’d been something in his voice she couldn’t remember hearing before. It made her feel like the practice kiss on the front porch had. Thinking about it now still had the power to suck the air from her lungs and make her feel weak at the knees. It didn’t make sense; Nick was her best friend. Only a friend.
They’d reached Reverend Pearce, and he began the now-familiar ceremony. A year ago today, Frances had still been living at home, under the care of their beloved father. Now he was dead, likely murdered by his brother. She and her sisters had thrown away their old life and fled from their uncle’s home to come live with Luke. Their life was completely changed, what with Maude married to Charles, Doris to Marshall, Luke engaged to Judith, and Frances about to marry Nick.
He squeezed her hand, pulling her from her reflections.
“Do you, Nicholas Alexander Reynolds, take Frances Lancaster to be your lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
“I do.”
“Alexander?” she whispered.
“Behave,” he hissed, but his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
“Do you, Frances Lancaster, take Nicholas Alexander Reynolds—”
“Don’t forget I’m not promising to obey any man.” The words came out louder than she intended and several in the audience chuckled knowingly.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Reverend Pearce said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, causing more to chuckle. “Let’s try this again. Do you, Frances Lancaster, take Nicholas Alexander Reynolds to be your lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
Frances stared at the pastor for a second, a knot in her throat. She swallowed and forced the words to come out.
“I do.”
Nick let out a breath of relief. Had he been worried she might change her mind? He ought to have been relieved he wouldn’t be shackled to her. Still, his shoulders remained tense until the pastor had declared them to be married.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Nick turned to face her and gently placed his hands on her cheeks. His gaze was so tender and loving, Frances found herself lost in it. She couldn’t think of a time in her life anyone had looked at her like that. He lowered his mouth toward hers, and her eyes stung. She almost wished it could be real.
Then his lips found hers, and there was nothing pretend in her response. As his warm mouth moved over hers, she slid her arms around his neck, and he shifted his arms from her face and wrapped them around her back. He held her so close. It felt right, somehow, to be kissing Nick. How could mere friends share something so amazing? If they’d really been in love, Frances doubted she’d have been able to stay on her feet.
The sound of cheering cowhands broke through. Embarrassed, she and Nick broke apart. She didn’t dare look at her brother.
“No one should suspect anything now,” Nick whispered. Taking her hand, they turned to face the guests.
Nick was a little dismayed at how quickly the wedding turned into a reception party, and everyone crowded around them to offer their congratulations. Frances was pulled away by her sisters and the women of the Ladies’ Improvement Society.
One of the cowhands from the Circle B Ranch made a derogatory comment about the kiss, his sly tone implying there must have been some early carrying on between Nick and Frances. His blood boiling, he spun on the man and found he wasn’t alone. Every one of the Lucky L cowhands who worked with Frances looked ready to whup the man. With wide eyes, he held up his hands, muttering an apology, and quickly left.
Nick shouldn’t have kissed her like that, but he had no idea when or if he’d get another opportunity. There was no doubt they’d have to share some public kisses to keep up the ruse. Now they were married, if he were going to respect her wishes, he would have to make sure not to kiss her again when they were alone.
He couldn’t forget the look on Frances’s face when he’d arrived first thing that morning with his belongings. Nick had known they’d have to share a bedroom. Evidently, she hadn’t thought that far ahead, which was surprising. Her sisters had prepared for the new couple the same room which Maude and Charles had shared while their house was being constructed. The large bedroom had its own bathroom and was located by itself on one side of the house. It would provide privacy for the newly married couple. While that had been perfect for Maude and Charles, it posed a danger for Nick and Frances.
“So, you’re really not going to take a wedding trip?” Marshall Breckenridge asked.
“Charles and Maude still haven’t taken theirs, and they’re expecting a baby,” Nick found himself replying defensively. “Frances would like to go to Indianapolis and show me where she grew up. We want to make sure our marriage is on record with the probate court, so her uncle doesn’t try anything while we’re there.” That at least was true.
“Yes,” Marshall said, rubbing his chin, “Doris has mentioned a desire to go there as well now the three sisters are married. There are things in the old house she wishes to retrieve.”
“We should all go together.”
“On your wedding trip?” Marshall shook his head. “We would never want to intrude.”
“Intrude on what?” Frances stepped beside Nick and laced her fingers with his.
His heart warmed at how easily she’d taken to the hand-holding. It took all of Nick’s restraint not to pull her into his arms again. Instead, he had to stand there and explain what he and his new brother-in-law had been discussing.
“Oh, we hope you and Doris will come with us in a couple of weeks,” Frances said. “I’ve invited Maude and Charles too. It’s a long trip though. I’m not keen on sleeping in those open cars again.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Marshall said, stifling a chuckle.
Frances scowled at him, her cheeks flushing. That didn’t happen very often, not from embarrassment anyway. She was going to have to get used to being teased, especially by the other cowhands. After all the months she’d worked with the men, she knew a little of how rowdy they could get—and bawdy, though they tended to keep the worst of those remarks for when she wasn’t around. Still, since she and her sisters had come to Lilac City, a couple of the men had gotten married. She knew the teasing that was to come.
“My wife and your brother would both kill me for having forgotten my manners,” Marshall said. “I do apologize.”
“Well, don’t. I’m no weak female needing to be protected.” Frances sniffed. “But I do wish you’d bring Doris on our trip to Indianapolis. I’ve about got Maude and Charles convinced to come too. There’s baby stuff in the attic of our house that I’m sure they’d like to use.”
“Doris has mentioned some baby clothes your mother made that she’d particularly like to use. I wonder ...” Marshall was rubbing his chin again, a sure indication he was warming to the idea.
Nick glanced at Frances and found her watching him. She grinned, seeming comfortable in this change in their relationship. He allowed the flicker of hope to grow. Their marriage contract did not give a date of when they’d have to annul the marriage. Edgar had said something about it having to be done within two years or it would have to be a divorce. Nick had that much time to convince her to stay married to him.
9
Frances’s feet hurt by the time they loaded the sleigh and drove back to the house. She’d gotten used to touching Nick and found she enjoyed it. Her father had never been a physically affect
ionate man, but she and her sisters had always been so, especially Doris. As a child, Frances had craved her older sisters’ touches because they’d been so like Mother’s.
As they pulled up, Frances lifted her head from Nick’s shoulder, surprised she’d dozed off.
“Sorry,” she said. “I hope I didn’t slobber on you.”
“It’s so cold, if you had, your face would have stuck to my coat.” He winked at her before jumping off and then surprised her by turning to offer his hand. “It can be harder in a dress, and you don’t want to make Judith mad by ruining that one.”
Since he was right, Frances reached out to accept his hand. Instead of taking it, Nick took her by the waist. She’d always known he was strong, but it struck her just how much when he effortlessly lifted her and set her on the hard-packed snow in front of him. She looked up into his blue eyes, glistening in the light from the moon behind her. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her chin lifted, her lips tingling, as though they wanted a repeat of the wedding kiss.
“Save it for later,” Luke called, as he drove up in the other sleigh. “We need to get these presents inside. Morning will come early for some of us.”
The corner of Nick’s mouth quirked up, and he released her, stepping back. The McDaniels helped to carry everything inside and then took the carriages to the barn.
“You hungry?” Luke asked with a yawn.
“No,” Frances and Nick said together. They grinned at each other.
Frances was so tired she was getting silly and everything struck her as funny. Or was it because she didn’t want to think that, as a married woman, she was going to have to give up her privacy?
“Good night, you two. Don’t worry about chores in the morning. I expect you’ll want to sleep in.” Her brother turned and strode up the hallway toward the kitchen.
Nick didn’t say anything but offered Frances his arm again. It was easier to climb the stairs when wearing a stupid long dress. She was just glad she hadn’t spilled anything on it.
The closer they got to their new bedroom, the harder Frances found it to breathe. The marriage hadn’t seemed real to her until Nick had shown up that morning with everything he owned. Of course, he’d move into the house. Into her room. Her new room. Since Maude and Charles had used it, the staff had taken to calling it the bridal suite. Maude and Mrs. McDaniel had even talked about advertising the Lucky L as a wedding venue.
Nick opened the door and then surprised Frances by turning back to her. Before she could do anything but squeal, he picked her up and carried her into the room. She wasn’t one for all the fuss associated with weddings, but there was something unexpectedly touching about his gesture. Her eyes prickled. She must be really tired.
He set her down and stepped back, looking very much like he expected her to yell at him.
“Thank you for doing this.” When his expression turned confused, Frances said, “This marriage. I couldn’t claim my inheritance without your help, and it’s a sacrifice for you. I want you to know I’m grateful.”
“I’d do anything for you, Frances.” Nick’s words came out rough. He turned so abruptly she wasn’t sure she’d imagined the flash of pain that crossed his face. He pointed to the small sofa near the window. “Only need to find some blankets for my bed.”
Ever since he’d brought his things that morning, Frances had been avoiding thinking about this. But here it was. They had to give the appearance of being married. Well, they were married. But Nick was already making a big enough sacrifice for her. The poor man wasn’t going to sleep on a sofa for however long they were married.
“You’ll sleep in the bed, of course,” she said. “Where else would you sleep?”
Nick spun around and stared at her. He narrowed his eyes. “Is that a trick question?”
“Don’t be an idiot. It’s a big bed.” Frances’s cheeks went hot, and she knew she was blushing. How ridiculous. She thought she could talk to Nick about anything and everything. “Just because I kissed you… Let’s just say I trust you to keep your hands to yourself.” She gave him her hardest glare. “I can trust you, can’t I?”
His shoulders seemed to relax, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You wouldn’t have asked me to marry you otherwise. Am I right?”
“Of course, you are.” Frances sniffed.
“Do you have any idea how much that reminds me of Judith when you do that?”
“Do what?”
Nick stuck his nose in the air and sniffed.
Frances’s eyes widened, and she cried, “I don’t do that.”
“You just did,” he said with a snort. “I know you hate to be compared to her because she’s a high society lady, but you two are a lot alike.”
“We are not.” Frances crossed her arms, her body flushing now in anger.
“You’re both strong-willed and opinionated.” Nick took a step toward her and continued. “You’re both smart and beautiful.” He gently clasped Frances’s shoulders. “You both care passionately about things. There’s nothing wrong with that. I admire strong women. I think it’s going to be fun to be married to one, even for a little while.”
His gaze went to her mouth. For a second, she wondered if he meant to kiss her again, but he shifted his gaze, dropped his hands, and stepped back.
“Well, thank you. I guess.” Frances rubbed her temple. Being married was confusing her and making her think of things she’d always disdained before. And his remark about her and Judith. Frances would have to make sure she didn’t do that ever again. “I’m going to get dressed for bed. I’m tired.”
She went to the chest of drawers where her helpful sisters had moved her clothing. Frances found something new inside, a negligee made of silk and lace. It had Maude’s beautiful stitch-work on it, but the lace along the low-cut neck must have been made by Doris. An unexpected rush of emotion washed through Frances as she stared at the beautiful garment her two sisters had so lovingly made for her in such a short time. They must have spent hours on it.
“Is everything all right?” Nick asked, coming to stand beside her. “Wow.” He shot her a quick sidelong glance and appeared to have a hard time swallowing. “You going to sleep in that?”
“How can I not after my sisters went to so much trouble to make it for me?”
Nick made a funny noise that sounded an awful lot like a groan.
“I have to.” Frances sighed. She wasn’t stupid; she knew exactly why he’d made the noise. He was finding her as attractive as she was finding him. That was unexpected, but it was too late now, and she sure wouldn’t have trusted Edgar Lowell in her bed. Nick had been the only option. “I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.”
“I’ll be fine.” He stepped back. “We might as well get all the hard things out of the way at once. Are you going to be able to undo those dress buttons by yourself?”
It was Frances’s turn to groan. Not once, while her sisters had helped her into it that morning, had Frances considered she couldn’t ask them to help her to undress. Not on her wedding night. It would have been a dead giveaway the marriage was a sham. The whole wedding thing was throwing her off. She was missing details she shouldn’t have. How was she ever to find a way to prove her uncle’s responsibility in Father’s death, if she was this distracted?
“No. I’ll need you to do it for me. Sorry again.”
Frances gently removed the negligee from the drawer and also took one of the shifts she wore under her church dresses. Then she turned her back to Nick so he could unbutton her dress. The only thing that made her feel better about the awkwardness of the situation was that his hands were shaking. He really was a good friend.
“I think you can get out of it now by yourself,” he said.
Holding the gown and her bundle to her chest, Frances hurried into the bathroom to change.
Fortunately for Nick, he’d already been in the habit of wearing pajamas to bed. With two sisters living at home, his father had insisted the boys not run around like some of
the men did in the bunkhouse.
When Frances stepped out of the bathroom, Nick made sure not to look at her directly, but he couldn’t help watching her from the corner of his eye. Her sisters had chosen well with the color. The peach fabric of the negligee matched her skin. He hadn’t missed that she’d taken some other undergarment from the drawer, for which he was grateful. The added fabric underneath hid the sheerness of the silk and lace gown. Frances still looked stunning in it.
Nick took his clothing into the bathroom and cleaned up. He put on his robe and went into the bedroom.
Frances sat propped up against some pillows, blankets pulled up to her chest, reading a book. She didn’t look up, and Nick didn’t say anything until he’d gone to his side of the bed.
“What are you reading?” he asked, as he removed his robe and set it on a nearby chair.
“Sherlock Holmes.” Frances glanced up. When her gaze landed on his bare chest, her eyes went round, her mouth forming a circle. She looked down at the book in her lap, her cheeks the reddest he’d ever seen, even on a cold day working outside.
“The Return of Sherlock Holmes?” Nick asked, removing his own book from the top of the chest of drawers. He turned around and found her staring at him again, though she dropped her gaze. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her uncomfortable. He’d have to see if he could find a shirt comfortable enough to sleep in.
“No, I finished that one already. I’m reading The Hound of the Baskervilles again.”
“Really?” He crawled into his side of the bed but leaned a little closer to look at her book. “I’ve been thinking of reading that one again. Are you very far?”
“No. I just started. Want to take turns reading it to each other?” she asked.
“Yes.”
And just like that, all the awkwardness was gone. This was familiar and comfortable because, almost from the beginning of their friendship, they’d spent evenings in the parlor reading to each other. Usually Sherlock Holmes stories.
A Fella for Frances Page 7