ROMANCE: MAIL ORDER BRIDE: The Other Man’s Baby (A Clean Christian Historical Western) (New Adult Inspirational Pregnancy Romance) (14 page)

Chapter Four

Violet led him away from the house and barn, “The creek’s back this way,” she told him.
“A nice spread. Will you miss it? West Texas looks different.”

“I’m not from here originally. I moved here after Rose died. My folks and I ran the boarding house in Oklahoma and after they passed on, I took over.”

“That’s when your sister died?”

Violet nodded. He had taken her arm as they began to stroll; there were places where the ground was uneven and the grass spongy from the moisture of the creek, but Violet was sure-footed, even if she was willing to link arms for support that she didn’t need. It was pleasant to walk this way, with no particular purpose or destination, simply enjoying the pleasure of her company and her womanly presence.

“I tried to continue with the boarding house; I’d done all right after Ma and Pa were gone, but I couldn’t tend to the boarders and the twins, too. I expect that if I’d been their real mother I’d have found a way,” she said as if this were a failure on her part.

“How so?”

“A real mother would know what to do to make the twins mind.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Violet laughed. “You sound like Charlie,” she said, looking at him.

He hoped Josie wasn’t hiding behind a tree, watching, but it didn’t matter if she was, because he was set on kissing Miss Violet anyway. Her head tilted back and as he pressed his lips against hers, the soft, silken weight of her hair felt good against his hand.  Thinking of her with her hat off and all that brown hair falling around her shoulders, with nothing but a nightgown to conceal her from view, made him kiss her harder as desire overtook his control. She was kissing him back, her lips parting with ardor. He’d kissed women before, but not like this, not with that promise of kisses that lasted and turned into more than just a moment’s heady pleasure. He pulled her into his arms, his hands pushing her closer to him so that he could feel, beneath her frock, the undulations of her breasts and thighs. She made a noise and then pulled away. “I—we’d better—“

“Reckon so,” he agreed, catching his breath. “I meant no disrespect, Miss Violet, but you’re a mighty desirable woman.”

She lifted her chin to look at him. “I am?” she asked, those stunning eyes brimming with what looked to him like a mixture of hope and doubt.

He touched the soft swell of her cheek; a few tendrils had come loose from her hair. Gently he moved the strands away. “When we get back home,” he promised, “you’ll find reason to believe what I say.”

She reached up her hand to touch his cheek. He was glad he’d shaved so carefully, but he’d need to shave again tomorrow morning. “You’re a fine-looking man, Lucas. I didn’t expect you to look so fine.”

“What did you expect me to look like,” he asked curiously.

He was still hatless thanks to Rendell. Locks of his thick black hair lifted as the breeze blew through, bringing a hint of cooler weather along that was welcome after a hot summer. Violet was too shy to tell him that he was handsome or that his warm brown eyes reminded her of her molasses and spice cake. His shoulders spanned wide across the spread of his jacket, indicating strength and fortitude. He was a Texan; a man who had to bend nature to his will in order to make his living, but hard work and determination hadn’t taken away a gentleness in him that she didn’t remember noticing in other men. Maybe it was because he was sure of himself and what he’d achieved. He didn’t seem to doubt much, but he wasn’t a braggart.  When he’d kissed her . . . Violet blushed at the realization that she’d wanted him to go on kissing her.
 

“I don’t know,” she said, looking down. “Rose was the pretty one in the family.”

“I had a brother. He was the good-looking one,” Lucas said. “Whit was his name. He died in a Colorado mining camp; Whit was wild. I always hoped he’d settle down but he didn’t.”

“Rose was gentle and sweet. She was so proud of having twins, but after they were born, her strength just faded. She was poorly for a long time and by that time, the twins were six months old and Caleb was looking for a wife.”

“The twins didn’t want to leave you? I reckon it’s hard for a man to raise children on his own. Women do seem to have a natural knack for it.”

Violet shook her head. “His new wife didn’t want them. They’re a handful, I know, but they weren’t even a year old then, not even walking yet. Caleb asked me to take them.”
“And you did,” Lucas said, wondering what kind of man would give up his own flesh and blood. “That’s pretty brave of you.”

Violet laughed. “Oh, the twins are lively but they’re not really bad.”

“I didn’t—you mistake my meaning. It was brave of you to take on that load. Mothering.”

He sounded almost reverent as he spoke, gazing at her with a tender look in his brown eyes as if she had done something quite out of the ordinary.
“I hope—I hope we’ll have more children,” he said awkwardly, “so that the twins have brothers and sisters.”

He felt as if perhaps he shouldn’t have said so much. But then he was kissing her again and she was kissing him back with abandon, her hair tumbling free of its pins as her hat fell to the ground.

“Ma says supper’s ready!” Josie’s voice bawled out from the porch, clearly audible despite the distance.

“Oh---my hair!”

Lucas bent to the ground and picked up the pins, helping her to restore order to the beautiful mane of rich, burnished brown tresses that satisfied a bit of his passionate curiosity about how she’d look when they were alone and she was his wife. She adjusted her hat, inserted the pins and asked him if she looked all right.

Lucas grinned. Violet blushed.

“You look better than a good woman should, Miss Violet,” he told her, his ardor blatant in his praise. 

The pink was still in Violet’s cheeks when they reached the porch. Lily gave them a knowing, satisfied smile before she began to say grace.

The Reverend Whitacre arrived just as they were finishing up supper and Lily invited him to join them. He was a jolly, portly man who clearly enjoyed his meals, and he accepted Lily’s offer even though the rest of the family was settling into dessert.

Lucas saw the young folks share grins and he gathered that the minister was known for timing his visits to coincide with meals. Lucas wouldn’t typically have minded, but he was now impatient for the vows and the night to come. Tomorrow, they’d return on the train to West Texas, man and wife and family. He asked where the twins were.

“Sleeping,” Josie said. “We had them out playing all day so they’d be tired early. Ma said to make sure they were wore down so that they didn’t raise a fuss tonight because you and Aunt Violet didn’t need to be tending to two-year olds on your wedding night.” She was grinning as if she sensed his embarrassment at her candor.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly, with only his twinkling eyes to reveal his appreciation of her efforts. “Miss Violet and I are grateful to you.”

Beside him, Violet made a sound. He looked at her, but she was avoiding his eyes and knowing the reason why stirred the desire in him. He knew that if they shared a glance now, they’d both recall that kiss by the creekside as her hair fell in surrender.

Chapter Five

Lily had helped ready Violet for bed, and she was, just as he’d expected, waiting in a long white nightgown, her hair falling over her shoulders in thick bronze waves. He undressed in front of her in the dusk that clothed him in soft shadows until he approached the bed where she waited.

He pulled the sheets away. The night was pleasant; he was glad he had married in the autumn and not in the high summer.

“Miss Violet,” he began. “I’m honored that you’re my wife. Do you think . . . would I be offending you if I asked you to take off that nightgown so that I can enjoy the rest of the sight of you?”

She drew in her breath. “Mr. ---Lucas. I’m not a . . . “

He looked at her sharply. “Have you been with another man, Miss Violet?”

“No!” she looked at him in disbelief. “Whatever makes you think such a think?”

“You said, ‘Lucas, I’m not a ---‘ and any man would finish the sentence same as I did,” he replied, leaning his head on his raised elbow. His fingers played with the buttons of her nightgown. There were a lot of buttons. One by one, he opened each of them. Violet didn’t seem to be breathing as he did so, her lungs holding in the air as if she couldn’t release any of it.

Finally, the last button was freed, and gently he pushed the nightgown away from her shoulders. “What were you going to say, Miss—what were you going to tell me, Violet?”

“I was going to say that I’m not little and beautiful like my sister Rose was.”

Desire gripped him at the sight of her body and its lush curves. “I didn’t marry your sister Rose,” he answered, his words muffled as he buried his face into the bared flesh that was exposed by her unbuttoned nightgown. “I reckon I’m a lucky man.”

The night was too short for all that he’d longed to do with her, and for her rapturous response to the tutelage of his hands.  By the time morning came, they knew each other in an intimacy that spurred each to more seeking of the other. But they had a train to catch.

Lily was at the buckboard to drive them to the station. Her sharp eyes noticed that familiarity had replaced reserve and that the secret glances they shared when they thought no one was looking were wise with the ways of a man and a woman. She refrained from any salty comments because there was something precious about the newness of physical love. That purity of passion would deepen into something that wasn’t quite so delicate, but it would be better. Children came from it, but also perception. Women knew men in ways that their menfolk couldn’t even imagine, she thought as Josie lifted Rosie into Violet’s lap, and then Rendell into Lucas’ waiting arms.

“Pray to God they stay tired until you’re back home,” Lily advised.

The twins didn’t, of course, stay asleep for the train ride. They were awake before boarding got underway, but Lucas entertained them for a while with his pocket watch. When the interest in that ebbed, Violet played pat-a-cake with them. Violet had packed food and the twins ate cornbread and drank from Lucas’ canteen. After eating, they napped; Lucas and Violet conversed in low voices while the children slept.

“Cattle and hogs,” he answered when Violet asked for more information about the ranch.  “And pecan trees. The round-up is done, the cattle are delivered to market, the butchering is done, and the nuts are gathered. The boys and I will fix up the fences, tend to the stock, and make repairs where we need to. I like winter,” he told her. “It’s mild in West Texas. There’s still lots of work to be done, but it seems more restful.”

“Pecans . . . do you like pecan pie?”

“I like what they make at Miss Luna’s Restaurant,” he said.

“And who’s Miss Luna?” she asked.

Lucas leaned back, moving slowly so that Rendell didn’t waken. “Only the best cook in West Texas,” he said, watching her to see if Violet would rise to the bait. “Her flapjacks are so light that you’ve eaten ten of them before you realize that you can’t get up from the table unless you unbutton your britches first. Her johnnycake, well, it’s about the finest around. And then there’s her—“
 

Violet put her hand over his mouth. “I’ll make you my kiss pudding tomorrow and you’ll forget everything that Miss Luna ever put on your plate,” she promised.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” she said determinedly. He noticed that she had quite a confident chin. He liked that. It showed that although she was gentle, she was strong and she knew her own mind.

“You’re on. Kiss pudding tomorrow and come Saturday, I’ll take you into town to sample Miss Luna’s cooking.”

Violet leaned closer so that she could whisper in his ear. “I’ll be doing the cooking on Saturday night.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. And since we’re wedded, you won’t have to leave your six bits for the meal.”

Lucas’ grin spread slow and easy across his face. “Amazing what a man gets for free once he’s married that he used to have to pay for,” he said, just to tease her.

Violet turned scarlet. Lucas burst into laughter, catching the attention of the other travelers, but also waking up Rendell, and then Rosie. That signaled an end to flirtatious conversation because the twins had eaten and slept and they had energy to spare that couldn’t be distracted by games or a bright, shiny gold watch chain. Lucas was relieved when the train pulled into town and Violet, her hair coming undone and her hat off center on her head, looked as if she were just as ready for the traveling to end.

Lyle was there to meet them with the wagon. He tipped his hat to Violet. “Mrs. Jackson,” he said. “The boys’ll be glad to meet you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting you all as well,” she told him.

Lyle and Lucas loaded the baggage into the wagon. Lyle manned the reins while the married couple kept the twins under control. The twins wanted out of the wagon; they wanted to touch the horses. Lyle came under their unblinking scrutiny but Lyle was impervious to their stares as he maintained the contest the longest and then Rosie gave up. They were hungry, but they didn’t want the food that Violet had prepared. They wanted bread.
“I’ll bake bread tomorrow,” Violet said. She turned to Lucas. “Do you have flour?”

Lucas had carefully stocked the pantry with everything at the general store that Beckie Trellis, the Colonel’s wife, had told him a woman would need in order to keep a good kitchen. There was flour, sugar, salt, molasses, spices, corn meal, raisins, butter, salt and pepper. The eggs could be gotten from his chickens and milk from his dairy cows, in addition to pork and beef from his livestock. He’d bought preserves from Janice Wiltshire, the sheriff’s widow, who made a little pin money with her strawberry and  peach jam. From some of the other ladies in town, he’d purchased the vegetables that they’d canned so that Violet wouldn’t have to worry about a garden. She might want to try one in the spring, but over the winter, they would have enough food. The pans were new. He’d even bought two new aprons, an extravagance since she could sew and probably had her own, but they were bright and new.

“There’s flour,” he said.

Violet, hearing the anticipation in his voice, studied him intently. He didn’t intend to revela how much it meant to be able to have a wife who asked him if there was flour in the pantry; how he could explain to her that the simple things that came with marriage were what he wanted more than anything.

“Good,” she said finally, unable to discern the reason for his contented tone of voice. “I want to do a lot of baking.”

“Best take it slow,” he said. “The twins aren’t going to be patient for too long.”
“I’ll bake while they go down for a nap,” she said confidently.

Lucas doubted if they’d stay down long enough for Violet to accomplish everything that she intended to do, but he wasn’t going to be the one to dash her hopes. For him, it would be enough if there was fresh bread baking when he came in for supper, and three people waiting for him at the table.