The Brides of Chance Collection (3 page)

“Next to the bed,” Paul said. He plopped down on the bench and stared at Miss Hancock as if he’d never seen a woman. Sad truth was, it had been a long while since he’d set eyes on a decent one.

Once behind the makeshift partition his brothers made by hanging a moth-eaten blanket from the ceiling joist, Gideon laid his feminine burden on the bed. His nose wrinkled. Come morning, she was going to be one very unhappy lady. Logan had managed to roll her over toward the hitching post, and she’d gotten what polite women called “road apple” ground into her gown, petticoats, and stockings. She’d be mortified if she ever found out her skirts had been in a froth clear up to her knees. He made a mental note to threaten his brothers with dire punishment if they ever dared to mention that embarrassing fact.

His lips thinned. There was no way around it. She had to get out of these clothes. Feeling less than gallant, Gideon unbuckled her valise and peered inside. He fished about and found a nightdress. Now he had to get her into it.

His hands started to sweat. It nearly undid him, just handling that oh-so-white, soft-from-a-hundred-washings bed gown. She’d embroidered flowers and tatted a tiny row of lace along the neckline, making the simple piece captivatingly, impossibly feminine. If that wasn’t bad enough, it smelled like sunshine and honeysuckle. He abruptly set the piece on the foot of the bed. He had no business seeing her unmentionables or touching them.

Gideon tried to pet her cheek and coax her to rouse, but she slept on. He whispered a prayer for strength. Bad enough he’d seen and touched her light-as-air nightdress. Worse, now he’d have to help her if she didn’t wake up right quick.

“Come on, Miriam. Open your eyes, just for a few minutes,” he said a bit more forcefully. She gave no response. He decided to take off her shoes. Maybe that would wake her up. After carefully lifting the hem of her truly ugly brown serge dress a scant few inches, he unbuttoned her tiny black leathers from ankle top to instep. With a quick twist and yank, he divested her of the footwear.

Less than eager to glide his hands up her stockinged calves, he took the toe of her left black lisle stocking and pulled. He met with some resistance, so he gingerly pinched both sides of the ankles and tugged. To his infinite relief, the garters yielded and he pulled off the stocking. By the time he got the other stocking off, he felt like he had a fever. Looking at Miss Miriam’s trim, lily-white ankles was enough to make a man loco.

His voice sounded hoarse as he tried once more to summon her from her sleepy world. “Miriam, wake up.”

The woman didn’t even flicker an eyelash.

He couldn’t very well leave her to sleep in her badly soiled day gown. Gideon gritted his teeth against a rush of sensations as he reached out and unfastened the first button at her throat. The dress had twenty-eight tiny mother-of-pearl buttons aligned in disciplined ranks, two by two down the front. He stood there and prayed if he loosened the first pair, Miriam would come awake. Undoing one practically drained him of whatever control he possessed. He certainly couldn’t handle twenty-seven more.

Heaven must have heard him, because he learned in the next instant that only half of those buttons needed to be undone; the other half were decorative companions. He’d just undone the second one and grimaced. She still hadn’t roused. Bad enough, he’d had to loosen her clothes—she’d be utterly scandalized if she awoke to him dragging a wet cloth over her throat to rouse her. Gideon rested his hands on her shoulders, but he didn’t want to shake her or shout. Poor thing didn’t deserve that. He leaned closer and opened his mouth to whisper her name.

Chapter 3

M
iriam came awake with a vengeance. A cry burst from her as she catapulted into a sitting position. She windmilled her arms and whacked Gideon in the chest and jaw. For a wee bit of a thing, she sure showed spunk. Titus, Paul, Bryce, and Logan all scrambled over to see what the ruckus was about. When she spied them, Miriam let out a terrified shriek and tried to bolt from the far side of the bed.

Gideon did the most expedient thing. He grabbed the blanket and yanked it shut again, effectively containing and covering her. “Calm down.” He sat down and pulled her back into his lap. “Everything is fine, sweet pea. Don’t bother with them. They’re leaving. You nitwits get on outta here before I knock your heads together.”

“Oh, Lord, have mercy,” she quavered. “Deliver me, I pray.”

Gideon crooked his forefinger and used it to tilt her face up to his. Her eyes were wide with terror. “Hush, Miss Miriam. You don’t have a thing in the world to fret over when it comes to me and the boys. You’ve got my ironclad guarantee on it. When you took your tumble in town, you got some, uh, stuff on your day gown. I tried to wake you a bit, but you’re a sound sleeper.”

She continued to shiver in his arms and stared at him in abject fear. White, even teeth clamped down hard on her lip, and he knew she did it to keep from screaming. Her breaths came in sharp little pants, causing her whole body to jerk.

He slowly smoothed a few errant strands of hair from her brow. “How’s your head feeling?” he asked softly, trying to divert her attention and let her gather her composure.

“Please don’t hurt me. Don’t touch me. Just let me go.” She tacked on for good measure, “It’s a sin.”

“Sweet pea, nobody’s planning to hurt you one bit. I’m sorry you got so spooked, but you don’t have a worry in the world when it comes to that sinning business. I won’t abide any man accosting a woman.” He trailed his fingers down her cold, pale cheek. Brave as could be, she’d not shed any of the tears glistening in her huge eyes. Her skin felt as soft as baby Virginia’s. At the moment, she looked almost as young and innocent as little Ginny, too.

She managed to tear her gaze from his only long enough to hastily scan the room. The instant she refocused on him, she swallowed hard. “Where’s Hannah?”

Gideon bit back a groan. He’d wanted to delay this.

“Saints have mercy,” she whispered in a breathless rush. Eyes huge and swimming, she said, “You’re not really Gideon, are you? If you were, Hannah would be here.”

“Easy now, Miss Miriam. Easy.” His arms tightened a shade. “I’m Gideon. Don’t go letting your imagination lead you into unfounded fears.”

“Then where is my sister?” Even though the volume had to make her head hurt, Miriam raised her shaking voice. “Hannah? Hannah!”

Gideon gently pressed a finger over her lips. “Hannah isn’t coming, Miss Miriam.”

“Why not?”

The whole way home, he’d tried to put together a few mild phrases that would gradually ease her into the sad truth. Maybe not something flowery, but, well…

For all his pondering, he’d concocted a hundred phrases, but none of them seemed right. The time had come, and he still lacked the words.

Gideon’s momentary hesitation was all it took. Miriam went rigid in his arms. One of her hands snaked out from beneath the flap in the blanket and desperately clutched at his shirtfront. “No!”

He sighed and drew her closer. Gliding his palm up and down her back, Gideon confirmed her suspicion. “I’m afraid so, Miss Miriam. Hannah passed on soon after having little Virginia Mae. You must not have gotten Daniel’s letter.”

She burrowed her face in his neck and shook her head. Gideon wasn’t sure whether she shook to deny the death or because she hadn’t gotten the letter. He’d shocked her so deeply, he knew she’d not cry yet. In time, it would all register. For now, the shock protected her a bit. Gideon knew his words would echo and elicit a full reaction later.

Boots scuffled, and Paul appeared. He thrust a glass into Gideon’s hand. It held water, but a telltale sweet odor clung to it. Paul mouthed, “Laudanum,” and his brother gratefully accepted it.

It took some coaxing to get Miriam to drink it. She swallowed the first few sips out of shocked compliance, but when she realized the cup didn’t contain plain water, she tried to refuse more. Gideon used all of his persuasive powers, and finally she finished the rest of the glass. The dull grief on her face was all too familiar. Daniel still wore it much of the time.

She eventually pushed away from him and said in a shaky voice, “I thank you for your honesty. H–Hannah mentioned you and your brothers in the most complimentary way in her missives. Now perhaps you would be so kind as to take me to her grave site.”

“I’ll be willing to take you there, come morning. It’s real late. You need to go to bed.”

“But I came to see Hannah.”

The bewildered, lost look on her face tugged at his heart. “Sweet pea, you’ll have to trust me. I’ll take you to pay your respects tomorrow—first thing in the morning, if you like. Right now, you need to lie down.” He patted her bed gown so she would focus on it. “If I leave you for a few minutes, can you change into this all by yourself?”

She nodded.

He stood and set her on her feet. After assuring himself that she could balance, he slowly let go. “About your clothes, just drop them on the blanket.”

“Very well.”

He moved her nightgown so she could reach it more easily. Even that fleeting contact left his fingertips burning. He cleared his throat. “Soon as you’re changed, climb on into the bed.”

Gideon left her and tried to ignore the sound of rustling clothes and the whisper of petticoats. He and his brothers waited in vain for the muffled crackling sound of her settling on his hay mattress. Finally, he shrugged and drew closer to the blanket curtain. He quietly murmured her name, but she didn’t answer, so he stepped back onto the other side of the makeshift partition.

His heart twisted. Miriam looked like a little angel, dressed in her pure white nightgown. She’d fallen asleep while kneeling to pray. Instead of being confined in the prim bun that had been coming loose all evening, her hair now hung in a loose braid that measured the full length of her spine. Her back bowed from the way her arms winged out onto the mattress, and she rested her cheek on one small, dainty hand.

He tiptoed over and winced at the noise his boots made on the gritty plank floor. Thankfully she didn’t jar awake again. The poor woman couldn’t possibly withstand another shock. Gideon gently scooped her into his arms. For a moment, he held her close.

Other than Mama, he couldn’t remember ever holding a woman just because she needed tenderness. Oh, he cherished his nieces, but they were tiny little scraps—not full-grown women. Miriam’s head rested on his shoulder, and even in her slumber, she let out a tiny whimper.

“Shh,” he murmured. “Sleep, darlin’. Just sleep.” As he did when Polly or Ginny Mae was a bit fractious, he dipped one shoulder to the side, then the other to make his torso rock. For some odd reason, that swaying action always calmed them down. It worked for Miriam, too. After a minute or so, her features softened, and she let out a tiny puff of air.

“There you go,” he whispered, then slipped her onto his bed and pulled up the wool blanket he normally used. Coarse. The blanket felt much too rough for a lady, but he figured she was too far gone to let a detail like that register tonight. In the morning, he’d rummage through a trunk and see if he could find one of Mama’s quilts. Hannah had taken a shine to them, so her sister would probably appreciate having one to use while she visited.

Miriam turned her head to the side. The gentle curve of her jaw and the slight lift of her brow made him think an angel must have just whispered a word of comfort to her. Unable to resist, he bent down and brushed a chaste kiss on her cheek…just in case the angel hadn’t done a good enough job.

After he straightened up, he cast a quick look over at the partition. Relief flooded him. None of his brothers was peeking around the blanket, so no one witnessed him pampering this strange woman. Even though he’d meant nothing personal or improper, he’d have to watch his ways for the time Miriam stayed here. He didn’t want her—or his brothers—getting any crazy notions.

Gideon gathered the soiled blanket and clothes from the floor and noted she’d been orderly enough to fold each garment. A wry smile tilted his mouth. She’d tried to observe all propriety by placing her dress atop the pile so the men wouldn’t see her unmentionables. Something was missing, though. Then he spied a white length of cording hanging below the blanket at the foot of the bed. Prissy little Miriam had hidden her corset from him.

Much as it embarrassed her, Miriam had no choice. Someone had carried away all of her proper clothes. She’d need to traipse about in her nightgown and robe until her dress or trunks reappeared. Her head ached, but the sharp pangs of grief in her heart rated more attention. She brushed and put up her hair, pulled on the jade green robe, and tiptoed past the hanging blanket.

The sight before her almost felled her. Four other beds stuck out from the wall. Clothes hung from pegs pounded into the rugged wood walls, but more littered the mud-encrusted floor. Though it wasn’t exactly the height of good manners to gawk at anyone—especially someone of the opposite gender—as they slept, she couldn’t help noting each bed held a strapping man and a single blanket. No sheets were in sight.

Her bare feet made no noise, but they seemed to find every dirt clod and pebble on the floor as she made her way past the beds and out the open door. She closed the door behind herself and stifled a gasp.