Lessie: Bride of Utah (American Mail-Order Bride 45) (7 page)

“Are you or Mr. Taylor polygamist?”

He choked and his expression revealed a touch of distaste. “Do I look like a man who can handle more than one wife? As you so aptly put it this afternoon, I don’t comprehend women.”

She giggled at that. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, Mrs. Cannon, I most certainly am
not
polygamist. Neither is Adam. Josie is his first and only wife, as
you are mine.”

Mine.

The way he subtly emphasized ownership made her insides tingle… and effectively ended her ability to gather questions.

“Just so you know, Mrs. Richard Cannon, I’ll never marry another— not while you live. Perhaps not ever.”

That vow stunned her. “Excuse me?”

He cast her a momentary glance, then returned his attention to the road and other vehicles. “I mean it.”

“You speak as though you married me for typical American reasons… but this is an arranged marriage. More like the Old World. Isn’t it?”

“All I meant was that I take our marriage seriously.” Now he seemed uncomfortable, as if he, too, had revealed too many secrets, opened himself to her inspection… and regretted it.

“Thank you.” Gratitude welled within her, ripe and heavy and genuine. He’d given her far more than she’d expected.

She could have done far worse than a man who took marital vows seriously, given he didn’t love her and probably never would.

Within a few minutes, they arrived at a grand two-and-one-half story home. By the freshness of the paint, the tender blades of grass and saplings staked in strategic places about the grounds, she assumed the house’s construction had been recently completed.

Most of the neighborhood dwellings were new, too, some under construction.

An expensive, attractive neighborhood.

Richard drove the buggy up the drive and behind the residence toward the carriage house, set back more than fifty feet.

The house was ever so much deeper than wide, and yet the property seemed to go on forever. A pasture in the middle of the block was fenced off, allowing someone’s horses room to grace and stretch their legs.

Clapboard siding, painted in stylish and inviting pastels, snagged her attention. Gabled roof, curtains at the windows, gingerbread cutouts adorning the eaves.

She’d never had cause to enter such a palace, much less live in one.

Just how wealthy was her new husband?

Richard cleared his throat. He stood at her side of the carriage, offering a hand down. She accepted his help, but only because dizziness affected her from staring upward.

The minute her second boot touched the gravel drive, he released her. “Go inside, Mrs. Cannon, and make yourself at home.”

She had no idea how to help with the horses, and was most curious about the house, so she turned do to as he bid… but her gaze fell on the smudged sheet tied about everything she and Josie owned.

“Oh, no!” The make-do valise rested on the back seat of the carriage. “I have Josie’s change of clothing.”
And undergarments.

And
all
the remaining, carefully saved money, tied into the handkerchief pinned inside the pocket of her dress. She should have divided the money into equal halves, sent her sister with a financial reserve.

She snatched up the bundle, so carefully guarded through their journey, used as a pillow and never allowed out of their sight for fear of theft. She’d never anticipated separation so there’d been no need to divide their meager clothing.

Richard shrugged. “She won’t need her old clothes. Neither will you.”

Irritation flared. “How can you say that? She’s on a
train
, bound for the middle of nowhere.”

He hefted the heavy, huge door to the carriage house open. Scents of sawdust, fresh hay, and animals mingled with the warm, lazy fragrance of an Indian Summer day.

Loneliness more acute than anything she’d ever known bombarded her, drowned her. She
never
should have allowed Richard or Adam to take Josie away— lawfully wedded husbands or not.

Some bonds were stronger than others and ‘husband’ meant
nothing
compared to twin sisters who’ve shared
everything
, including a reflection in the mirror.

Grief, hot and cloying, swelled in her breast and clogged her throat. She turned away as Richard fiddled with straps and harnesses to free one of the horses. Her pulse pounded in her ears and still she couldn’t draw breath past the gaping void of loneliness.

The knotted bundle was a sorry substitute for Josie, but Lessie clung to it, hugged it close, and closed her eyes against the torrent of threatening tears.

Don’t cry. Don’t.

Tears solved nothing and wasted precious energy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to cry.

A warm, big hand settled on her shoulder.

Richard
.

With a gentle nudge, he turned her into his arms. He held her against him, the bundle of containing her entire life clutched between them.

Her father must’ve held her, when she and Josie were little, but she had no memory of him. There had been no one else. No man had held her like this, ever.

His show of kindness and compassion was so unexpected and yet so utterly soothing, she didn’t know what to do. Without releasing her, he smoothed a warm, open hand along her upper arms, inviting her to relax.

His touch knocked the sharp edges from her grief and rendered it somehow bearable.

How very odd that this man could chase loneliness away. She didn’t miss
him
. She missed her twin… the one constant in her life.

“I’ve not spent a single night away from my sister.” Her words muffled against his vest and coat. Surely he hadn’t heard words she’d not intended to disclose.

“I promise you it will be all right.”

Her fickle heart wanted to believe him, wanted desperately to trust in his promises. He had apologized, hadn’t he?

“The only reason we remained together through childhood is luck and constant diligence. Plenty of people tried to separate us after Mama died.” Her throat closed again and she wondered why she spoke of this at all.

Details of her life could not be important to a man like Richard Cannon.

Yet he rested his cheek against her crown and held her. As if he didn’t have a buggy to put away and a team to feed and water.

Most disturbing of all, he held her as if she mattered.

The mere suggestion that this man, her husband,
cared
destroyed her resistance.

How that was possible, when she really ought to hate him for succeeding where others had failed— he and Adam had separated Lessie from the only person in the world she loved.

“I apologize, dear, for inflicting this grief upon you. I can only imagine how desperately you miss your sister.”

An onslaught of emotion rendered her unable to speak. What would she have said in response, had she been able? She merely nodded and savored the sense of safety and protection in Richard’s embrace.

He shifted slightly… had he kissed her hair? “I’ll do everything within my power to see you cared for, happy, and content, Mrs. Cannon, and I have every confidence Adam will do the same for Mrs. Taylor.”

In that moment, she trusted him completely. He knew Adam and trusted Adam… and for now, it was enough.

Chapter Six

Richard had suspected marriage would change his relationship with his cousin. He’d not realized, until now, just how much.

There he stood, his brand-new wife in his arms while two patient horses waited on him. And that wife of a mere hour and a half wanted information he’d promised Adam he’d deliver… and win her over in the process.

Adam had sat across the desk from him, that very morning and waxed poetic about his determination to love his wife.
Love is a choice,
he’d said.
And my marriage will be full of love, laughter, understanding…
the list had gone on and on, but Richard hadn’t really been listening. His mind had been on business.

But with his bride in his arms and Adam on his way to New Mexico, he suddenly understood which relationship deserved,
required
the best he had to give.

After all, this marriage had come about not because of love but because he
needed
her.
Cannon Mining
needed her.

He eased back, nudged Lessie’s chin up with the touch of his forefinger. He searched the dark chocolate-brown of her eyes. Slowly enough she could see his intention, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. He lingered, treasuring the sweetest of kisses.

Without hurry, he ended that kiss… that brushing of lips that felt more like a promise than expression of affection. “I need to see to the horses. You’re welcome to wait here. On the porch in the shade, on the stairs in the sun, or at my side. You choose.”

He must’ve said something right because her smile, so natural, so sincere and so quick lit her features and reached her eyes.

“When the team is settled, dear wife, you and I are going inside. We’ll pour a tall glass of lemonade and then we’ll sit and talk. You’ve asked important questions, and you deserve answers.”

Forty-five minutes later, Richard sat in the front parlor in a wingback chair. Lessie sat in the chair opposite, sipping icy lemonade. He’d opened two windows so they might enjoy a whisper of air movement.

Given Lessie’s interest in the house when they’d driven onto the property, he thought she might show interest in the room’s decor. She surprised him yet again by choosing her seat and remaining silent, ready to hear the explanation he’d promised.

She set her glass upon a coaster on the end table, effectively asking him to begin.

“Our grandfather built Cannon Mining from the foundation on up.” He drained his own lemonade glass. It went against nearly everything he’d ever been taught to talk business with a lady, but this time, he must bend the rules.

He started with the easy part, the family history. “George Cannon determined to make something of himself, and he succeeded. He expanded his single mine to two, then three. His first yielded enough gold to have a unique and beautiful wedding ring made for my grandmother.”

Lessie smiled at that bit of history and nodded for him to continue.

“By the time my father was born, he’d expanded his operations and amassed enough wealth to live an easy life.”

Move it along, move it along.
He’d known for more than a full day he would confide everything to her, but that didn’t make the words come easily.

“My father, James, learned the business and worked alongside his father from the beginning. I understand he never considered pursuing other work.”

“Have you?”

“No. Never.” He honestly hadn’t. “I learned the business from the best. My grandfather taught me, and then Adam as he grew old enough.”

“Aren’t you and Mr. Taylor the same age?”