Josie: Bride of New Mexico (American Mail-Order Bride 47) (10 page)

Josie drew a deep breath and sighed.

Adam would have to remember this and keep this part of her happy, too.

He could easily love a woman who found romantic things pleased her.

“Mr. Evans tried to bring the situation to a close, but George said, ‘sir, please, I beg of you, do hear the rest of my observations, for I’ve found I can think of nothing else. I awake with thoughts of Lucinda and know that today is Monday so she will be outside with her mother, hanging wash upon the line and if I walk by I might have the pleasure of her smile. And I know,’ my grandfather told his would-be father-in-law, ‘when I see Lucinda, my heart tells me she is the one woman on this earth that I cannot live without. It is not merely her smiles, her angelic voice, her uncommon friendship and her blue eyes. I see a lovely young woman, Lucinda, who makes me want to bring that smile to her face, that I yearn to listen to, to hear her thoughts and give her the very best I have within me.”

“I do hope Mr. Evans finally gave his permission.”

Adam squeezed Josie’s hand and her hip, loving the easy comfort between his wife and himself. Somehow their foreheads had drawn near one another and he yearned, more than usual, to kiss her. Just a sweet kiss that would punctuate his story, but given she didn’t know the tale as well as he, he felt duty-bound to finish the tale.

“But instead of a yes or no, Mr. Evans asked of young George Cannon, ‘Do tell, Mr. Cannon, what is the purpose of courtship?”

Josie laughed. A sparkling, clear, beautiful sound that pulled a smile from him.

“Why sir, courtship is a time wherein a young man and young woman spend time with one another under the careful watch of mature members of the young lady’s family, to allow the young couple to determine whether they might be suitably matched for matrimony.”

“Oh, no.” More dread and disappointment in Josie’s tone.

“But Grandfather wasn’t done with his response. Before Mr. Evans could tell Grandfather no and send him away grieving, George Cannon looked his would-be father-in-law in the eye and said, ‘Sir, my purpose of courting Miss Lucinda is to allow her to see me. I wish her to see me even while I strive with all diligence to truly
see
her. I want to see what brings Lucinda joy, what she needs the way flowers need sunlight and water. I would prepare myself in every way so that when I stand before you one year after our courtship begins and ask you for her hand in marriage, you will be eager to say yes the first time.”

Instead of another “oh” or “oh, no” this time Josie’s response was a delighted, satisfied, sigh and a “yes”… and darn if she didn’t lean forward and kiss him.

Just a sweet peck on the lips, over as quickly as it began. But Josie, his sweet wife, had kissed him of her own volition. She’d chosen to kiss him, not simply allowed him to kiss her.

And it was a beautiful, welcome, and special moment he wanted to hold close and treasure.

“I see,” she said softly, as if confiding a secret, “that your grandparents may have had a special courtship. One of those prime examples others hold up for young men and young ladies to see how courtship should be.”

Adam wanted to lean in and kiss his wife more than he’d wanted anything in a long time.

“But that story is not about a great love for the ages.”

“I’m getting to that part.”

“Well hurry up. I may grow old waiting for the tale to resolve itself with a happily ever-after.”

He couldn’t help but smile
and
want to kiss her.

It may have been selfish, but the tender cocoon that brought the two of them together in a sweet intimacy where the world could not intrude was too precious, too wonderful to allow to pass by. Very slowly, to show her precisely what his intentions were, and to allow her ample time to turn her cheek to his kiss or to say no in any one of many ways, he rose to his elbow— unfortunately pulling his hand from her hip— and still holding her hand, leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

He had zero reason to rush. This seemed almost like the beauty of a first kiss. But without the minister watching, without an audience of any kind, he had the luxury of savoring the softness of her lips, the gasp of sweet surprise as his mouth touched hers.

With willful slowness, he dragged his lips over hers, the friction a sending a rush of electric sensation through him. He pulled her lip with gentle suction between his own, marveling at the rush of affection that cascaded through the general vicinity of his heart.

But she seemed to mimic him, now applying a bit of suction to his lower lip and he very nearly lost his heart to her.

Oh, Josie. My
wife
.

She clung to his hand, but also touched his jaw. She’d reached for him with her free hand and her kisses matched his. Warm and vibrant and filled with the kind of emotion that must mean something. Kisses like these could not be void of affection.

Why had he suspected it might be work to fall in love with his wife?
Why
?

She caressed his jawline, then as he remained propped on an elbow, she slipped her arm about his neck, and just as she’d done much earlier that day, tugged him in for a kiss.

If he hadn’t already been kissing her, savoring every magical second, he’d have known precisely what she wanted.

He straightened a little, allowing himself to draw nearer to her. The fine cotton of her nightgown, so smooth against his legs, felt cool against his heated skin.

She broke away enough to whisper, “Adam.”

“Josie.” He tried not to sound strangled.

She’d turned away, just a little, and his mouth landed on her cheek so he kissed her there, trailed little nibbles along her jaw.

“Adam?”

“Josie.”

“Would you mind if we finished the story tomorrow night? I— I’m not interested in more stories.”

His heart skipped right over two beats, slammed against his ribs and raced to catch up. He opened his mouth to ask something,
anything
, for this was not the time to make assumptions.

Before he could blunder his way through a question he had no idea how to phrase, she freed her hand from his grasp and settled her fingers along the buttons up the front of his nightshirt.

She freed one, then two, and he found his question unnecessary, after all.

Chapter Twelve

The following morning, Josie enjoyed leaving the train with her husband for a quick stop in Gunnison, Colorado. The railroad town offered a variety of stores, but Adam remembered a shoe cobbler he believed could make her a sturdy pair of boots that would fit her narrow, small feet and slender ankles.

She hadn’t been able to tell him no.

She didn’t
want
to tell him no.

Especially after he’d brought out an entire trunk filled with ladies’ boots, shoes, and slippers in every size imaginable. He’d started their wedding trip well prepared to meet her needs— including footwear.

“The cobbler’s place is up ahead. He does magnificent work. If he has nothing in stock that will fit you, we’ll place an order and ask him to ship them to us at Silver Queen. You’ll need a sturdy pair of boots in that soil, if not two.”

She walked at her husband’s side, enjoying a beautiful new suit Mrs. Bushnell had brought on board as one of many hopefuls in her ready-made stock, and it had required little enough alterations she’d been able to dress in it before breakfast.

The brown woolen jacket and skirt were made of companion fabrics and the construction was nothing short of extraordinary. Everything she wore, from the skin on out— except her boots— petticoats, drawers decorated with a frivolous waste of lace and ribbons no one but her… oh, and Adam… would ever see.

And the stockings! So smooth, so thin, so feminine. The stockings just might be her favorite bit of the new, stylish clothing. She’d never owned anything so fine and had never felt so lovely.

“You are positively radiant this morning,” Adam said for her ears alone. “Absolutely beautiful.”

She couldn’t stop smiling. Between Adam’s attentiveness, his generous affection, her marvelous new clothes and a walk outside in the fresh air and mountain sunlight, she wondered why everyone wasn’t smiling.

They turned a corner and Adam halted. He glanced up the street, then another block ahead. “The cobbler shop was right there, where that new grocery is.”

A wooden structure, painted white, seemed brand new.

Disappointment clouded his handsome features. In the daylight, the waves in his black hair shone and she wanted to run her fingers through them.

“Maybe someone inside knows where the cobbler’s business is now?”

“A fine idea, Darling.”

Before she recognized his intention, he’d swung her into his arms to carry her across the street.

She squealed with laughter. “Put me down. I’m quite capable of walking.”

“The streets are full of muck.”

“Lawrence streets were, too. I’m quite capable of finding my way across without soiling my shoes or skirts.”

He carried her as if she weighed little. The sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her made her feel like she’d become the center of his world.

A good place to be.

“We need to feed you four meals a day. I think your petticoats and suit weigh more than you do.” He bounced her in his arms as if she were a little child.

“You’re a tease, Mr. Taylor.”

They’d just reached the opposite corner when a man approached too fast and too close.

Josie had walked to work and home again, often in the dark. She and Lessie had honed reflexes and learned to pay careful attention to their surroundings.

She recognized danger when she saw it. “Adam— watch out!”

The man charged. Sunlight flashed off his blade.

“Knife,” she yelled. “He has a knife.”

Adam flexed, twisting to put himself between her and danger.

“
No
.” On impulse, she kicked, desperate to deflect the man’s aim. “
No!
”

She half-expected the attacker to flee.

Often the threat of exposure ended such threats… but not this man.

He fell back half a step, and lunged again.

She wrenched her outside leg to block the blade. Her boot connected with the attacker’s arm, but ineffectively.

Frustration mounted. Josie bucked to free herself from her husband’s hold.

The villain feinted, thrust, slashed.

Josie screamed.

Adam could not defend himself while cradling her like a little child. But he spun, keeping her away from the knife blade.

Her feet finally touched the boardwalk.

Adam relented even as the attacker shoved free, sprinting back the way he’d come.

Josie shook from crown to toe. She’d seen and survived and experienced plenty like this before… but this seemed… off. Not merely premeditated, but personal. This was no pick-pocket.

Adam’s face lost its color. He clutched his ribs under his left arm. He pushed a hand beneath his suit coat and against the wound.

“You’re hurt.” She grabbed his wrist, needing to know, desperate to see.

His hand came away from his black suit vest, covered in bright red blood.

“My God,” Adam said in shock, his expression one of disbelief and pain. “That man tried to kill me.”

Adam kept his eyes open on the way back to the train car.

No way would a thug jump him again without warning.

His side burned, but best he could tell, the knife wound had grazed his ribs and was shallow. It stung like the dickens but compared to the attacker’s obvious intentions, Adam had come through it blessedly well.

Josie had saved his life.

Back on the private car, Josie called to Karl and Milton. “Are you three safe?”

A quick conversation ensued, Josie insisted they lock the exterior car doors and watch for trouble.

Adam doubted the ruffian would follow them on board the train, but he supposed that would depend entirely on the man’s motivation. Why would a brute in Gunnison attack in daylight?

In the bedroom, he peeled off his ruined suit coat and vest. He pulled his damaged shirt from his trousers and stripped his union suit to his waist. He needed to get a look at the wound, clean it, and stop the bleeding.