The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) (12 page)

“Nice try, darling, but I’m not going anywhere.” Becky couldn’t hide the admiration from her voice. The mare was simply doing her job as she saw it.

When her shenanigans didn’t loose the rider from her back, Siren stretched back her long neck to give Becky’s trousers a nip with her teeth.

“Now, where did you learn such bad manners?” Becky snatched the fabric from the horse’s mouth and kept soothing her mount with her hands and voice, until the mare settled into a circling prance.

For a while, Becky let the horse go her own way as she became accustomed to carrying her weight without a saddle. When Siren finally switched to a resigned trot, Becky sat up. Using her legs and a light pressure on the reins, she guided the horse into a wide arc around the cabin.

Triumph!

She grinned and wished she could shout out—loud and long—but she didn’t want to startle Siren. And she certainly didn’t want Isaac to think she was calling out for help.

Once she gained a little more confidence, Becky led the mare into the trees. She guided Siren carefully through patches of spring mountain snow and down the path toward the stream. Once they arrived, Becky indulged in a drink, cupping her hands and scooping the icy water to her mouth for a refreshing taste. Siren seemed to enjoy her drink as well.

Giving her new horse a proud pat, Becky looked around the forest. The towering trunks made her stare up, agog at their sheer height and breadth.

“Siren, would you look at this place?” she whispered. “It’s like God’s own cathedral in the woods.” Each tree, root, and stream seemed to reach out and bring her closer to heaven. A deep, peaceful feeling poured over her. She stood there, simply soaking in the majesty around her. The quiet solitude allowed her to reflect on her troubles. Isaac had been kind to her this morning, even though she’d admitted to his face yesterday that she loved another man. His scowl had told her clearly the news didn’t sit well with him—that, and the fact that he’d abandoned the marriage bed. She felt again the same intense desire she’d felt last night to mend things between them. Being here in this amazing place made her think anything was possible.

Turning to Siren, Becky ran her hands over the mare’s sleek coat, feeling the thrill of ownership. Isaac couldn’t know how precious a gift he’d given her.

Father God, thank you for my horse and for this beautiful mountain
. She thought of Isaac too and how she’d already disappointed him, and added,
And help me be a good wife for Isaac
.

There was the barest movement of brush, a shadow in her peripheral vision. The hairs on her arms stood up on end.

Someone or
something
was watching her.

A hulking form charged from the tree line.

A big blur of brown.

Becky didn’t wait to see what it was—she just leapt onto Siren’s back and spurred the horse toward the cabin.

Ducking through the branches took all her concentration. Luckily, Siren seemed to have a sixth sense about where to land each hoof along the rooted path, as if she’d memorized the terrain on their trip down. Becky, barely aware of their flight, fought off the sensation of fear crawling up her spine. As they neared the clearing, she looked back long enough to catch sight of a huge brown grizzly rearing up. His paws and claws looked big enough to kill her with one swipe. Likely they could.

Gun. No gun.

She could kick herself for being so foolish as to have left her weapon back in the cabin. What use was it to her there, propped against the foot of the bed?

The bear stood on his hind legs and sniffed the air. With a roar of warning, he turned back and lumbered into the forest.

Not taking any chances, Becky rode to the back of the cabin, quickly tethered Siren, darted inside, and grabbed her rifle. Returning to the winded mare’s side, Becky stood guard for an hour, her gaze fastened on the line of trees surrounding the small clearing. Finally letting down her guard, she returned Siren to the stable. The mare had worked up quite a lather, so Becky gave her a good rubdown and covered her with a blanket. She’d just returned to her bedroom, stripped out of her riding clothes, and was washing up when she heard the distinctive sound of spiked boots clicking across the front porch. Frantically, she hid her gun under the bed and kicked her lather-soaked trousers and hunting coat underneath as well. She jerked on a petticoat and a plain day dress with fumbling hands.

***

Isaac pushed through the front door and looked around, surprised to find the main room of the cabin empty.

“Rebecca?” he called softly, not wanting to startle her.

The door to the back room was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open slowly, his eyes widening at the sight of his wife’s back. She was fastening the top button of her dress, reaching behind her neck to do it up. The bedcovers were rumpled too, as if she’d recently gotten up from a nap. Maybe delicate, city-bred women needed more sleep than other folks? The thought of her tucked, warm and sleepy, in the bed sheets flashed in his mind. He shook off the image. She loved another man, he reminded himself. The thought stung his pride anew and sent the images of her soft womanly form curled up in bed scurrying from his mind.

“Uh, are you all right?” he asked.

She jumped like a child caught with a finger in the frosting.

“Isaac!” She spun toward him, her eyes wide and startled, as if she hadn’t heard him come in. She still had that flushed-cheeked look of sleep, and there was another expression in her eyes he could only describe as panic.

“I came to check—to see if you were faring all right.” The truth was he had several bad moments imagining her cornered by some wild beast. The thoughts had haunted his morning, making it impossible to focus on his work. He’d done his best though. After splitting a huge pile of logs and stacking them on the skid to bring back to the cabin, he’d finally given into his need to make sure she was safe.

“Oh, I’m fine.” She still had a guilty look on her face and quickly turned to straighten up the bedclothes and fluff the pillows on their bed.

Their bed? That was a laugh. He’d married into a life of celibacy it seemed. His days weren’t much different now, were they? Except now he had a dainty female to worry about. It wasn’t fair. Marriage was supposed to mean love and having a woman he could call his own, in every way. But Rebecca didn’t really belong to him, not when her heart belonged to another. A flicker of resentment sprung up in his heart, making him square his jaw and stiffen his shoulders.

“Well, so long as you’re all right...” he trailed off and stepped back a couple of strides to a safe distance.

“Oh, stay for lunch.” She whirled toward him again, pushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

He couldn’t say no with her hopeful eyes trained on him like that. And he noticed how pretty she looked with her reddish-gold hair braided and pinned up. A few loose strands framed her cheeks and made her look wholly feminine. Dipping his head in a curt yes, he helped her stoke up the fire and hauled in a fresh bucket of water from the barrel outside.

***

While Isaac finished some chores he said he needed to complete in the lean-to, Becky worked on lunch. She could still feel her heart thumping too fast in her chest as she cooked. If he’d come home any earlier, she would’ve been outside with Siren in the forest. Or he might’ve caught her with her gun in hand, guarding Siren from the bear. Explaining her absence from the cabin or her stance by the back door would have been interesting, to say the least.

Should she tell him about the bear? Her shoulder muscles seized up into a knot just at the thought. How could she tell him anything? If she did, she’d also have to admit she’d ridden to the stream with Siren when she’d promised to stay near the house.

He wouldn’t like that.

He’d like it even less if he found out she’d seen a bear.

Instead she hid a sigh of relief that he hadn’t caught her, making sure to check her skillet frequently and not get caught up in her thoughts. Encouraged from her success at breakfast, she was determined to serve Isaac a good, non-blackened meal.

Isaac returned and sat at the table. Feeling inordinately pleased with her success at the stove, Becky placed a platter of evenly browned venison sausages and quick cornmeal rolls before him.

“Thank you again for my horse.” She smiled at him. “She’s a real beauty.” Did he have any inkling how much his gift meant to her?

“You have to have a horse up here,” he mumbled, as he munched on a roll.

His expression of pleasure filled her with delight. He liked it. She opened up a can of pickled beets she’d found in the kitchen cabinet and scooped some onto his plate.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” He pulled out the chair beside him so she could sit. Before she could answer, he’d already tossed a roll and a couple of links of sausage onto her plate from the platter in the center of the small table.

Becky perched on her chair and cut up her sausage and roll into neat little ladylike bites. Remembering Melody, Jack’s genteel Southern bride, Becky even sliced the pickled beets into perfect little wedges, speared them with her fork, and nibbled at them as delicately as she could. She’d had her fun this morning riding bareback on Siren—she’d even had a brief face-to-face encounter with danger to liven up the day—but now it was back to the business of being a wife, and that meant being a lady. Her efforts to appear the perfect lady didn’t stop her thoughts from wandering to her plans to hunt this afternoon. She’d made a mistake this morning forgetting her gun. That wouldn’t happen again.

***

Isaac tucked into his meal with pleasure, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from drifting over to Rebecca now and then. She was sitting as pretty as you please, as if she were visiting the Queen of England for tea. A sinking feeling hit him. She belonged with a proper, citified gentleman, not with a rough logger out here in the wilds of the mountains.

Was this Jack fellow of hers a tailor? Or a banker maybe? Probably some highly educated fellow with a decent home, complete with an indoor water pump. Maybe he even had one of those shiny white porcelain baths with the gold claw feet. Folks in fancy houses had things like that. Isaac swirled the cooled goat’s milk in his glass and chugged it down in a rush. He pushed away from the table, unhappy with the turn of his thoughts, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He stopped mid-swipe when he saw the startled expression on Becky’s face. She likely was used to a man with manners too.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

***

Ma’am?
Becky jumped up, her heart sinking at Isaac’s stiff-sounding words. What had she done now?

“Will you be late this evening?” she asked, confused.

“I— Probably. Yes.” He backed toward the front door and yanked it open. “Stay near the cabin, Rebecca.”

“Of course.” Becky watched him leave.

She crossed the room and leaned her forehead against the door Isaac had just shut, half-wishing he’d stayed so they could go off hunting together as she’d done with Jack for so many years. In fact, she longed to have just a few short minutes where she could just be herself with her new husband, to not have to pretend to be something she wasn’t. She even half dreamed about him liking her the way she was. Wouldn’t that be nice?

What a fruitless thought. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? No man wanted a hoyden for a bride. Jack had taught her that.

After waiting to make sure Isaac was good and truly gone, Becky gathered up her rifle from under the bed and got to the business of hunting their evening meal.

***

Well after dark that evening, Isaac dragged himself up the front steps of the cabin. His boots felt heavy. Even his hat felt heavy. His resentment had returned and festered all afternoon, until now he didn’t even want to see Rebecca again. He hadn’t signed up for a wife in the first place. What he wouldn’t give to offer Pop a piece of his mind. He’d been tempted to do just that earlier, but his conscience had made him hold his tongue. What use was it railing against Pop? Isaac was stuck with the problem of Rebecca. And that was exactly how he felt—
stuck
.

As he poked his head through the door, he heard the sound of her humming loudly to herself. The tempting scent of roasted fowl made him dizzy with hunger. His stomach gave an answering growl.

Straightening a bit at the welcome smell, Isaac entered and hung his hat on the peg near the door. He pushed out of his muddy boots too and set them against the wall underneath his hat. His coat he threw over the rocker next to the fire to dry off the chilly spring mist that had clung to him on his ride home.

Home
.

The smell of a home-cooked meal certainly had a way of softening his attitude right fast.

He looked into the kitchen area. Rebecca was bustling about in one of her ridiculously wide skirts. She bent and stretched in a graceful ladylike way, as she set plates on the table and arranged cups and forks just so. She may not have been frontier-sturdy, but he had to admit he liked the look of her standing there.

“Evening.” Isaac cleared his throat, noticing how she jumped and spun toward him. At least she stopped humming that little tune she seemed to like so much, the one that reminded him of Jack.

“Isaac.” She sounded nervous, and he noticed her twisting her hands together at her waist. “You must be hungry after working all day.” She smoothed her skirt and checked her hair, which was neatly plaited and rolled into a bun at the base of her neck.

“Pop come by?” he asked, looking at the roasted feast.

She just smiled at him, which he took to mean yes.

“Must have been busy hunting this afternoon. I wondered where’d he gotten to.” He eyed the spread of food on the table, his mouth watering in anticipation. “We’re getting low on venison. I’ve been planning to go out hunting myself soon. Mighty nice of him to rustle up a bird for us, all trussed and ready to go.”