Homespun Bride (14 page)

“Solitude, I didn't mean to ignore you.” Warmly, Noelle moved to stroke the mare, and that ruffled skirt hem fluttered with the movement. The foal startled and her long legs splayed in four different directions. Down she went with a skid and a look of puzzlement.

“Is she all right?”

“She looks a little taken aback, but her ma is reassuring her.” He watched while the mare checked her foal over and gave her a tender nudge. “It's gotta be tough when everything is brand-new, even your own feet.”

“She's back up.” Noelle tilted her head slightly, listening carefully to the foal's movements. “Did I startle her?”

“Your skirt ruffle gave her a moment of terror.”

“That was exactly Henrietta's reaction when I went to pick up this dress from Miss Sims's shop.”

Thad laughed, he couldn't help it. It had been a long time since he'd laughed so readily. “You have quite a protector in your aunt.”

“I certainly do. Henrietta is very shielding of me.”

“Rightfully so.” He reckoned he felt the same way—always had. Always would.

The foal, with her mama watching over her, inched forward, nose down and neck stretched as far as it would go trying to figure out that scary ruffle.

His heart ached as he watched Noelle hold out her hand slowly, palm up, waiting for the filly she couldn't see to come to her.

He'd given up his dreams and put others aside for later, but it looked to him as if she'd lost all of hers. She had no marriage, no children, no horses she'd gentled and trained, not one of the things they'd talked about long ago.

He would give up all of his goals yet if it could give her what would make her truly happy. The foal gave a nip at her hem ruffle, which she could probably feel judging by the way she smiled. He wished she could see the dainty pretty filly as she braced her four long legs awkwardly.

The mare came close to press against Noelle's hand. “You have a beautiful baby, girl. You did great.”

Solitude nickered warmly, a proud mama.

Thad reckoned he would give just about anything in his life or anything yet to come for Noelle to smile for him the way she did the horse. The longing for it was so keen, he felt sliced down to the quick of his soul. He was no longer much of a praying man—he used his prayers for her—but this one time he wanted to spend one prayer on himself and ask that she, just once, look at him with trust and love. The way she used to.

“Thank you, Thad.” Her heart rang in those words. “Thank you for seeing the foal safely here. And for…
everything.
”

She smiled at him, and it was tentative and unsure, but he was glad for it all the same.

“No trouble at all.” He felt much taller, suddenly, at her side.

 

After spending the last hour listening to the soft bed of straw rustling and the soothing nickers as the mama spoke to her sleepy baby, Noelle sighed with contentment. She hadn't felt this happy in a long time. Maybe it had something to do with seeing Thad in a new light.

Or, she realized, maybe, because she was now blind, she had to rely on a deeper way of seeing—with her heart. Understanding why he'd left was coming to her as softly as a Brahms's air.

“I suppose it's time to leave Solitude and her baby alone together.” She regretted saying those words. She wanted to make this moment last forever.

“You're shivering. You must be getting cold.” Thad moved closer with a rustle. “I kept you out too long.”

“Not nearly long enough.” She wasn't sure if she was talking about the time spent with the horses or the time spent with Thad. Maybe both.

“I can bring you out to see the little filly again.”

“That's very generous. I just might accept your offer.”

“Then I just might come for you tomorrow about this time.”

She let her smile of pleasure be her answer, because she didn't trust her voice. No, her emotions were tangled up like a knot in a skein of yarn.

“Come with me.” His intonation was light and friendly.

She reached out and before she realized it, her hand was on his. She could feel the roughness of his skin and the calluses on his palm from years of hard work. His were a man's hands, strong and capable. As he was. It was impossible not to respect that. To respect the man he'd become.

As she let him guide her down the aisle, the symphony of the storm accompanied them. The rise and fall of the low-noted wind played a haunting harmony to the steady, steely beat of the iced snow against the roof. The
chink-chink
of the stallion circling his stall clanged like a melody. The wind moaned in the rafters above. Thad's boot steps added a dependable percussion as he guided her into the storm.

What was she going to do about the man and her suspicions about the past and about her parents? She did not want to think about the past.

The symphony of the storm crescendoed as they stepped out into the yard. Snow hailed like shards of ice stinging her face and pinging against her coat. The wind gusted so hard, it blew her a step backward. Thad was there, his hold strong on her, moving to block the cruelest brunt of the storm.

Yes, she reminded herself, it was respect she felt. Respect that made the spark of caring within her glow a little more brightly. She could feel the change in the air from the lightning strike and the nearly instant strum of thunder. “That was close.”

“Too close.” His hold tightened on her. “We're out in the open here. We've got to run for it.”

“In the snow?”

“Then we've got to lunge for it.” He shouted to be heard over another boom of thunder. “Maybe I'd best carry you.”

“Try it, and I'll never speak to you again. I'm blind, not incapable.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.” Standing out in a storm like this was a dangerous notion, so he tightened his hold on her, the only tenderness he was allowed. “Ready?”

Lightning tore apart the sky, cleaving the dense twilight curtain of snow. Blinding white light sizzled to the right, and an unearthly blast of thunder masked the explosion of the strike. He couldn't see what had been hit, but it had been near enough that he could smell it.

“C'mon.” He ran, bringing her along with him. He had a good tight hold on her arms. There wasn't a chance he would let her fall. They ran together, and he bowed his head against the onslaught. How long before the next strike? And how close would it be? The wind swirled, holding them back like an inhuman force.

“We're almost to the house,” he shouted above the roar of the storm.

To his surprise, she only stumbled once and then, in a blink, they were on the walkway in the lee of the house. She dropped the hems of her coat and skirts, which swirled at her snowy shoe-tops and swiped at the curls plastered against her face. She turned into the wind and let it batter her. “It's magnificent.”

You
are magnificent. His pulse slowed. His breathing stalled. A terrible pain traced like lightning through the dark sky and tore apart his hard exterior. It was a change that felt more dangerous than lightning, more powerful than the wind, more life sustaining than the rain.

She was the reason his eyesight blurred. She was the reason his heart stirred to life and why he could not look away. The sight of her filled the empty places in him like the rain pooling on the low places of the earth. He felt whole. He felt healed. He felt at peace with the past. It was like hope and faith creeping back into his soul.

Her smile brightened as the wind kicked up a notch. “I can almost see the angle of the snow.”

With the dampness curling the tendrils of her hair and the cold crisping her delicate complexion pink, she looked radiant and rosy. So beautiful it made his teeth ache. It was all he could do to talk past the tight squeeze of his throat. “It's nearly sideways.”

“And falling like hail.” She closed her eyes as if she were looking inward for the image. “What color of gray are the clouds?”

“Right overhead, they're as dark, and as purple-black as an angry bruise. Can't see much else, as it's nearly a whiteout.”

“I hear another boom of thunder. It's definitely moving away. I can't remember the last time we had a storm like this.”

I can.
He sidestepped closer to her and told himself it was to better shield her from the snow's touch, but that wasn't the only reason. No, not at all. “You're shivering, and the temperature is dropping. I don't want to turn you into an icicle.”

“I've been cold before. Besides, I'm having fun.”

“That may be, but the last thing I want to do is to get on Henrietta's bad side. That aunt of yours is a fearsome woman.”

That made her laugh but it did not make him forget the memory of her and another storm. They'd been at her house in town, standing on the back porch out of sight of any nosy neighbors They were hand in hand, heart in heart, watching the blizzard blowing down from the mountains and across the prairie like a miracle of white.

Noelle whirled toward the driveway. “Someone's coming. It must be Henrietta back with the girls.”

He turned in time to see a dim shadow in the snowfall. Miss Bradshaw broke through and into sight pulling the sleigh. There was no blizzard powerful enough on earth to disguise the stern look on the aunt's proud face—probably one of great disapproval. The girls, back from school, stared wide-eyed in the back-seats as Henrietta reined in the mare.

“Inside, girls!” she commanded sharply. “Noelle! I'm shocked at you, risking your health in this way. Why, you're soaked through, by the looks of you, and wearing only a cloak! Not your heavy winter coat. Young man, what are you thinking? No good can come from this. Noelle is very frail. I expect a severe case of pneumonia at the very least.”

He realized what she must see, Noelle's hand in his and alone. The hope in his heart withered like a seedling caught in a late frost. He took a gulp of freezing air and reeled in his feelings. For a moment he'd captured a small piece of heaven. For a moment, they were the way they used to be.

He'd almost forgotten that there was the past and the choice he'd made standing between them.

Thad squared his shoulders and met the aunt's gaze straight on. He hadn't thought of Noelle as frail, but he could not argue with the older woman's concern. It was a concern they shared. “Pardon me, ma'am. I was just seeing her inside—”

“Henrietta,” Noelle interrupted. “I'm fine. You fret too much. You know I love a good storm.”

“You must get your lack of good sense from your mother's side.” With what looked like a wink, the older woman climbed out of the sleigh, refusing the offer of his free hand to help her.

If he wasn't mistaken, there was a twinkle in her eyes, a knowing glimmer that made him wonder just how much she'd been able to understand.

Yes, he was serious about Noelle. It ripped his soul in pieces to feel her take her hand from his, to take a step away. Was she remembering what he'd done to her? Seeing a man who'd hurt her?

“I'd best go.” His palm felt cold as he stepped away. Lonesomeness set in, beating him like the snow. “Hope I didn't get you in the henhouse.”

Her unguarded smile was all the reassurance he needed. “It was worth it. Henrietta's censure isn't enough to go back on your word, right? You'll still take me to see the foal again?”

“I'll see you tomorrow.” He tipped his icy hat in the aunt's direction as he took Miss Bradshaw by the bridle bit. “You'd best all get in out of this storm.” He paused while another finger of lightning crooked down from the veiled sky. “It's likely to get worse before it gets better.”

He turned away so he wouldn't see Henrietta Worthington and her daughters take Noelle into the fancy house and away from him—where she belonged.

H
enrietta barreled through the parlor, the teacup rattling in its saucer with her every step. China knickknacks and crystal pendants on the lamps clinked and chimed at her approach. “Where you young people get your notions, I shall never know.”

Noelle squeezed the damp from her braid with the towel, trying to decide what on earth to say. She opted for silence as she heard the teacup clatter onto the side table and caught a whiff of Henrietta's rose fragrance before the matron marched away and came to a sudden halt. The
thwack-thwacking
sound had her imagining her aunt venting her humor on the innocent sofa pillows.

“If you catch a chill and your death, then I shall know who to blame.” Henrietta paused. “A man who has made himself useful around here ought to have realized that much! I hope he is not about to make the same mistake as the last stable hand.”

“I can assure you that is not a possibility.” Noelle gave her hair a final squeeze and folded the towel.

“Oh, do not be so certain,” Angelina commented from the hearth where she was warming up from the long ride from the schoolhouse. “You two looked terribly cozy—scandalously cozy—when we drove up.”

“Cozy?” Noelle had to laugh at that, although it wasn't humor she felt. No, any thought of serious feelings between her and Thad only brought up that tangled knot of emotions that hurt more than she wanted to admit. She set the folded towel aside for Sadie to pick up later. “Thad was walking me to the house. He had to be close to guide me. You know that, Angelina.”

“Yes, but he's a very handsome man and it didn't look as if being near him was a hardship,” Angelina said knowledgeably. “I think he's smitten with you.”

Smitten? No. Noelle filled up from toe to top with an aching regret. How could she tell her cousin that it was far too late for that? Any loving feelings Thad had to have once felt for her were long destroyed. They had to be.

Thad was a good man with a good heart. Of course he would always care for her. Her eyes smarted with understanding. It was all starting to make sense. All his kind words and the gentle things he'd said earlier which had made her so angry came clear. How he would always care for her.

And she for him, she realized. Her fingertips felt wooden and clumsy as she inched across the small table, searching for the cup and saucer. Regret and the weight of lost dreams burdened her. No, even if she were not blind, it was too late for a second chance.

Henrietta gave another thwack on the unsuspecting pillows. “I'll have no more talk of this tonight. Robert, are you comfortable? Do I need to help you back upstairs? I shall call Cook to help me—”

“No!” Robert may have been still terribly weak from his injuries, but his tenor boomed. “No, my dear, I've had enough of that room. I'm quite comfortable here.”

“Supper shall be served soon, I'll see you upstairs then.” Henrietta sounded as firm as her footsteps on the wood floor. “No argument.”

“I thought the man was the lord of his own home?” A small smile warmed her uncle's words.

“Yes, and a woman is the queen, so you will obey me. I'll not take no for an answer.” While not a word was said, deep-felt love was there all the same in Henrietta's tone.

An abiding love that made Noelle sigh a little. That she could not know the same love, the kind that grew stronger and richer with the years, would always be a great, lost dream. She inched her fingers in the direction of where she thought the teacup was, and fortunately located the rim of the saucer without upturning the cup or burning her fingertips on the steaming hot tea puddled in the saucer.

“Noelle—” Robert changed the subject “—I wish I'd been up to a trip to the stable. I would have liked to see our newest addition.”

“Solitude's foal is adorable.” She set the teacup gently into its saucer, aware of Thad's nearness. Although he didn't make a sound, she knew. He was close—in the kitchen perhaps? “Have you named her yet?”

“Not yet. You wouldn't happen to have a suggestion?”

Thunder cannoned again. There only seemed one obvious suggestion. Thad's boots tapped a distant rhythm at the far end of the house. She tried to make her voice sound normal and unaffected. “You should name her Stormy.”

“Then Stormy she is!” Robert chuckled. He sounded happy. “I think this horse-raising venture of mine might be taking a turn for the better.”

“It could hardly get much worse!” Henrietta commented.

“Ooh, did you see that?” Minnie's words echoed in the dining room's coved ceilings.

Thunder crashed overhead, rattling the windows. Another round of lightning, Noelle realized as she gingerly sipped the hot herbal tea, and the strikes were terribly close. She remembered how Thad had described the storm to her. It was best he stay out of the dangerous weather. “Thad can't ride out in this.”

“Sure he can,” Henrietta answered. “He has a horse, does he not?”

The tea caught in her throat. She coughed as Angelina answered. “But Mama, it's a lightning storm. He could get struck.”

“And he might not. Goodness, Noelle, are you all right?”

Noelle set the cup in the saucer with a splash. “F-fine. I should have kept my thoughts to myself, I see.”

“I inquired about the North County McKaslins,” Henrietta said by way of an answer. “Your Mr. McKaslin is only a disinherited cousin. Apparently his father was nothing but a disgrace, much like the younger brother is turning out to be.”

“So,” Angelina teased. “How old is the younger brother?”

“I'll not rise to that bait, missy,” Henrietta scolded, although she was struggling not to laugh. “How you test me. Don't think I've forgotten about the incident at school. After dinner, you're to go straight to your room.”

“I detest being banished. There's nothing to do upstairs but to read my Bible—”

“Exactly the guidance you need, young lady. Why rumors swirl about you, I'll never know. I'm of half a mind to take you out of that school entirely. How many times must I explain to that teacher that none of my daughters would ever shove over the outhouse?”

“Many a time, Mama.” Angelina padded across the parlor as another round of thunder rumbled like cannon fire.

The girls began a discussion, speaking over the top of one another, debating the truth or rumor of Angelina's misdeeds at school, and Noelle took her leave. Keeping careful track of her steps, she made it to the kitchen as quickly as she could.

The moment she pushed open the kitchen door, she heard the maid's quick steps. “Sadie, is there a chance you could set an extra place for Thad?”

“Mr. Worthington has already requested it.”

“He did?”

“When you and Mr. McKaslin took off for the stable, miss.” Sadie sounded in a hurry as Cook slammed a pot lid down like a crash of cymbals. “Dinner is a bit late tonight. McKaslin is on the back steps, if you got to wondering where he may be.”

“Thank you, Sadie.” Noelle ran her finger against the far wall, to keep out of Cook's way. The scents of roast beef and simmering gravy hung in the air. Uncle Robert had already thought to invite Thad? Intriguing. Thunder rattled the windowpanes and the crystal teardrops of the lamps as she opened the back door.

Icy wind slammed into her, but she hardly noticed it. She felt warm and as light as a May day. “Look what rascal has come in out of the storm.”

“A rascal?” Thad's chuckle was as warm as hope, as welcome as rediscovered dreams. “I suppose you're right about that.” There was a rustle, as if he were hanging up his coat. “Your uncle was kind enough to invite me to dinner with you all.”

“Yes, and I think I was the last to know about it.”

“That right? I'd thought the invitation had originally come from you.”

“It would have, if I had thought of it sooner.”

“Is that so?” How about that? Thad felt the hard shell of tension in his chest ease a notch, making it easier to breathe. She breezed past him like warmth and light, and he could not help but follow. Some things like ice and snow and February storms were as inevitable and unstoppable as his affection for her.

He closed the door tight against the pounding weather, glad for the wave of warmth that washed over him. The delicious aroma coming from the stove made his stomach growl. The rare chance of walking at Noelle's side made him feel alive again in his heart and spirit—places he'd thought had been in the dark for too long to survive.

“I can hear Sadie settling the serving bowls on the table,” Noelle said over her shoulder as she followed the wall to a closed door. “Prepare yourself for the Worthington inquisition.”

“The what?”

Her laughter was a gentle, musical trill as she pushed open the door.

He moved close to help her with it and time seemed to freeze. For an instant, anyway, as he noticed the damp curls of her chestnut hair—she'd unbound her braid and combed out her hair and it fell in a cascade of color and light around her heart-shaped face and past her delicate shoulders. He barely noticed she looked beautiful in the dress of white and gold she'd changed into because the sight of happiness on her face was drawing him more than any beauty.

“Just you wait and see,” she said as the door opened fully.

He tried to imagine the entire Worthington family taking his measure with a whole new outlook.

The family was already seated around the elaborately set table. He hardly noticed the room and its blue-and-silver wallpaper, crystal lamps and highly polished woods because of the way the women in the room were studying him, the younger ones with curiosity and the older ones with assessment.

Henrietta, regal at the foot of the table, squinted her eyes at him. Her mouth pursed. “I hear from Robert we owe you yet another thanks. You saw the new foal safely into the world. I hear there was a complication.”

“Just had to get her hooves heading the right way, was all.” Thad shrugged. “It wasn't anything Robert couldn't have done himself if he'd been up to the task.”

Robert nodded in greeting from the head of the table. “You're a humble man, Thad. I can learn a lot from you.”

“I've been around horses all my life.” Thad took care not to trip on the carpet as he followed Noelle around the table. The whole house was fancy for his tastes, and he felt as discomfited by the surroundings as by the females watching him with unblinking gazes. “I'm a cattleman, mostly.”

“Is that so?” Henrietta's gaze narrowed. “Are you done with your wandering all over tarnation? Or is that the life you intend to return to?”

He gulped, a little taken aback. Noelle had stopped at a chair beside the oldest Worthington girl, and he held her chair while she sank into it. “No, ma'am. I've come home to Montana to stay.”

Noelle turned toward him, searching his face as if she could see him plainly.

Was that hope he saw? Or sadness? So many uncomfortable emotions were muddying his mind, he couldn't seem to tell up from down.

“Very well then, I suppose that will do.” The way Henrietta said it, it didn't sound good at all. Not at all. She gestured toward the empty chair beside her. “I'm determined to get at the truth of your character. You will sit next to me, young man.”

Where she could keep a good close eye on him, no doubt. Thad swallowed hard at his murky emotions, but couldn't seem to dislodge them. They were made worse by Noelle and the way her emerald gaze followed the sound of his steps around the table, sparkling with merriment. Good thing she was enjoying this because sweat was starting to bead up on the back of his neck.

As he took his chair at the table, he couldn't shake the notion that Henrietta was out to find his every flaw. She was bound to find quite a few.

“When you went on those cattle drives, did you sleep on the ground with your saddle for a pillow?” the girl directly across from him burst out.

“Y-yep.”

“Do you really call the cows little dogies? Did you tell tall stories around the campfire like in the dime novels?”

“Angelina!” Henrietta looked scandalized. “Those are hardly appropriate questions for a young lady to ask.” Henrietta's oblong face looked severe, or maybe it was the tight way she'd pulled her hair back, so that her face looked drawn back, as well.

Well, he should have expected that. He had no illusions. All he had to offer was a savings account that used to be bigger and an old shanty that was three times smaller than the dining room.

Thad shifted again, and the chair wasn't getting any more comfortable. He'd be more at ease sitting in a sticker bush facing down a porcupine bare-handed.

It was a saving grace when Robert spoke. “Lord, bless this food we are about to receive.”

Thad realized that hands were folded and heads bowed all around him and he did the same.

“—keep us mindful of our many blessings. Thank you for bringing us together again, as friend and family, and teach us dear Lord to better love one another. Amen.”