The Christmas Bargain (8 page)

Philamena nodded her head, thinking of what she could make special for Luke’s breakfast. She would have to examine the contents of the kitchen to see what provisions they had. From first glance, it looked well stocked.

As if reading her thoughts, Luke stopped at her doorway and leaned against the jamb. “I had Mrs. Kellogg stock the cupboards this week. I think you’ll find everything you need to get started cooking. Whenever you need something, just have George Bruner charge it to my account at the mercantile.

“But I wouldn’t feel right doing that,” Philamena said, uncomfortable with the notion of spending Luke’s money.

“I trust you,” Luke said, studying his new bride and liking what he saw more with every passing minute. “You won’t buy anything you don’t need, so please feel free to charge to the account. If there is a purchase you’d like to discuss, you can always stop by the bank and ask me.”

Again, Philamena nodded her head. As much as she liked, admired, and respected Luke, he still made her feel nervous. He was such a big, ruggedly handsome man.

When Philamena thought of bankers, she assumed they would be men with soft bodies and pale skin from sitting behind a desk all day. Luke was tall, solid, tan and muscular, like he was accustomed to hard physical labor done outdoors. She noticed the calluses on his fingers when their hands touched earlier. Whatever he did when we wasn’t at the bank must involve some sort of outdoor exertion.

Studying Luke through lowered lashes, Philamena realized there was much to learn about the man who was now her husband.

Luke smiled down at her and, keeping his stance relaxed, gently turned her around to look at the long row of buttons down the back of Philamena’s gown.

“You and Abby did a wonderful job sewing your gown. I don’t know when I’ve seen a more beautiful bride. I am wondering, though, how you propose changing your dress?” Luke asked, laughter filling his voice as he watched red creep up his bride’s neck. He knew her entire face was probably flushed. “The last time I saw this many buttons in one spot was when George’s boy Percy dumped a whole box of them across the floor at the mercantile.”

“I hadn’t given it any thought,” Philamena said, unable to hide the heat of embarrassment that filled her face and burned her neck.

Now that Luke mentioned it, she had no idea how to get out of the dress Abby had buttoned her into. Dozens of buttons marched down the back of her gown. Even twisting and turning, she would never be able to reach enough of them to get the dress undone. Maybe Luke could send for Abby, but then Philamena knew her friend was likely exhausted after all her assistance with the wedding.

“Let me help,” Luke said quietly and started to the task. Philamena went ramrod straight and Luke could feel her stiffen beneath his touch. As he undid the top few buttons, he admired the slender column of her neck and inhaled her intoxicating rose scent. He wished, not for the first time today, that Philamena was his wife in more than name only. Maybe in time it would be so.

First, he had to win her trust and, he hoped, her friendship. When her skin flushed with heat and she drew in a sharp breath, Luke stopped working on the buttons and placed a warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I promise I won’t do anything immoral, illegal, or compromising in any way. I will simply undo the buttons,” Luke said, trying to sound convincing.

Philamena nodded, so Luke continued. Although his big fingers had quite a time getting the buttons undone, they were spaced so close together Luke didn’t know how Philamena would ever reach them, so he kept on going. He was more than half done when the top of her gown fell slightly open and he could see her fine white chemise as well as the edging of her corset. What caught his attention, though, was Philamena’s scarred flesh.

Fumbling in his shocked state, he hurried to undo the rest of the buttons. Knowing it would embarrass his bride but unable to stop himself, he pulled open the back of her dress and gaped at the ribbons of scars across her shoulders that ran down into her chemise. Luke couldn’t imagine what had caused the scars or how painful it had been for the woman who stood trembling before him.

Placing a finger to one the scars, he traced the raised flesh and felt Philamena shudder.

“What happened,” he whispered, shocked by the suffering her body had borne. “How did this happen?”

Philamena stood with her head hanging down and drew in a ragged breath. “I… um… my…”

“Your father did this, didn’t he?” Luke asked, knowing as he said the words they were true. “Your father beat you?”

“Yes,” Philamena whispered. “He came home drunk one night a few years ago, had spent all our money. I was so tired of his drinking. I ran outside and before he could even get out of the saddle I said something about how ashamed Mama would have been of him. He yanked the bridle off the horse and used the reins to…”

Philamena couldn’t speak through her tears. She was mortified for Luke to discover her scars, ashamed her father had put them there.

“Oh, darlin’,” Luke said, turning her around and holding her. To his surprise, Philamena fit so perfectly there, nestled against his chest. She was a tall woman, much taller than any he’d been around before, but she felt so right in his arms. Holding her, he murmured soothing words, rocking back and forth until he felt her relax a bit.

“Philamena,” Luke said, tipping her chin up so she had to look at him. Her cheeks were red from her tears, her eyelashes wet, and her eyes luminous. He wanted so badly to kiss her again. To kiss away her hurt, her pain, her shame. “You didn’t do anything to deserve those scars or anything your father did to you. I want you to know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“I know,” Philamena whispered, dropping her eyes to stare at the tie he still wore knotted at his throat. “You’re a good man, like Chauncy.”

“Well, I’m not that good,” Luke said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “The pastor is in a class all by himself, but I try.”

A small smile started at the corner of his wife’s mouth, but didn’t quite make it to her eyes.

Luke rubbed her shoulders and set her back from him. Trying to preserve what little dignity she had left, he turned to leave the bedroom.  “You go on and change and I’ll see about the horse. He probably thinks I’ve forgotten about him.”

Philamena nodded and waited to move until Luke closed the door behind him.

Luke stood in the hall a moment staring at the closed door then turned and walked out to the buggy, driving it around to the carriage house and backing it in. He took the horse to the barn and gave him an extra portion of food.

He should change his clothes and give ol’ Peter a good brushing, but he felt the need to be inside with Philamena.

It was taking every ounce of restraint to keep from saddling up Drake, riding out to the Booth farm and beating Alford to a bloody pulp. Luke had never had a violent bone in his body, but seeing what that man did to his daughter made Luke have all sorts of thoughts on giving Alford a dose of his own medicine.

What kind of man whipped a female? The same kind that slapped them, neglected them, half-starved them, degraded them, disrespected them, and used them as a bargain to pay a debt.

Maybe Chauncy was right. Maybe God had directed Luke out to the Booth farm last week. If he hadn’t shown up when he did, poor Philamena could be the newest member of the Red Lantern Saloon’s group of working girls.

Struggling with the protective feelings she stirred in him, Luke vowed again to do everything in his power to make her feel safe.

Chapter Four

Luke awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee filling his nose. For a moment he thought he must be dreaming, then he remembered he was married.

He had a wife.

One who could cook.

Smiling to himself, he got out of bed, made his way to the bathroom and emerged dressed and ready for the day.

Whistling, he sauntered into the kitchen where Philamena was busy preparing breakfast. Walking into the room, he was greeted with a shy smile.

“Good morning, wife,” Luke said, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his full lips.

“Good morning,” Philamena said, giving him a quick glance before turning her attention back to cooking pancakes. Luke poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip. It was strong, black and very good.

“May I help you with anything?” he asked, placing the cup on the counter. He noticed she already had a place setting at the kitchen table. That she set the table in the kitchen rather than the dining room proved she was practical and sensible, two traits he greatly admired.

“I’m just about finished,” she said, expertly flipping a pancake.

“You only put down one place setting, Philamena. As long as you are my wife, I want you to join me for my meals. It’s no fun to eat alone,” Luke said, placing another plate and silverware at the table.

A slight nod acknowledged she heard him as Philamena continued cooking breakfast.

While her back was to him, Luke took a moment to study her rich hair piled on her head in a jumble of curls, her long, slender neck, and her trim waist. She was wearing a dark green wool skirt and a plain white blouse, covered by a voluminous white apron.  He enjoyed watching her skirts swish as she moved and tried to rein in his thoughts before they wandered too far in a direction they didn’t need to go. Yet.

“This is about the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had,” Luke said, taking another sip, staring at her over his cup.

Philamena answered by blushing and nodding her head. He wondered how many times a day he would make her blush until she got used to being around him.

With her cheeks hot from both the stove and Luke’s presence, Philamena wondered how long it would take her to get used to being around her handsome husband. Freshly shaven, his tan cheeks were taut and smooth. He smelled so… manly and wonderful. It was all she could do to keep from burning the pancakes. When he turned those icy blue eyes on her, she thought her knees would refuse to hold her. She had to get over this infatuation with Luke and focus on her responsibilities to him which was cooking and keeping order in his home.

If only he didn’t look and smell so appealing.

Placing a platter of pancakes and another of bacon on the table, Philamena was shocked when Luke pulled out her chair for her and waited for her to be seated before sitting down across from her. Offering thanks for their meal, Philamena got lost in the deep timbre of his voice and forgot to pay attention to what he was saying. Giving herself a mental shake, she knew she needed to keep better control of her thoughts.

“Thank you for making this nice breakfast, Philamena,” Luke said, cutting into his third light-as-a-feather pancake and munching on the crisp bacon.

“My pleasure,” she said, without lifting her eyes from her plate. “It’s what I’m here for. Right?”

“Right.”

They continued eating in silence until Philamena finally spoke up, “What time do we leave for church. Chauncy didn’t mention what time the service started.”

“We’ll leave just before ten. Sometimes I go over early and help Chauncy warm up the church, but today isn’t my turn.”

“Okay,” Philamena said, clearing the table and setting the plates to soak in a pan of warm water. Swallowing twice, she worked up the courage to look Luke in the face.“Luke, may I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure. What’s on your mind?” Luke said, leaning back in his chair, wondering what was going through Philamena’s head.

“How does your house stay so warm?” Philamena asked, feeling like an uneducated idiot. She would have remained quiet, but curiosity was getting the best of her.

“Radiators are heated from a huge boiler in the basement that runs on coal. I check the boiler twice a day, so you shouldn’t need to concern yourself with it. If you hear a big banging noise coming from the basement, it’s a delivery of coal going down the chute.”