Western Kisses – Old West Christmas Romances (Boxed Set) (29 page)

~*~

Jonathan glared at Elijah.

"Oh stop! She's everything we thought. She's attractive, from a good family. Besides, it's your own fault." Jonathan eased the trunk off the cart and set it on the porch. "I've moved my things to the rooms in the stable. You need a little privacy with your new bride."

Elijah leapt back into the cart, and drove the horses around toward the stable, while Jonathan stared after him in frustration. He tamped his growing anger down, remembering the dark eyes and pale face of his sweet little bride. He had no idea how much she knew, if his father had chosen her. He was trapped, by his family, by his own actions and now by a woman he knew nothing about.

He hefted the trunk up and muscled it into the house, walking back to the bedroom. When he got back to the kitchen, he saw her resting her head on the table. Her head had rolled to the side, and he saw tear tracks on the dust on her face. He wondered if she might be faking, when her mouth drooped and a not at all delicate snore slipped out.

He grinned. No woman would try to cozen someone with that raucous snore. He looked at the shadows and gauntness of her face, remembering with a start how exhausting the train and coach ride must have been. He frowned, worrying about how slight she was. It was effortless to lift her in his arms when he brought her in.

He slipped around and managed to pick her up without waking her. He took her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. Jonathan frowned at her clothes. Even though they were married, he did not want her waking up with him disrobing her. That would terrify even the staunchest of women. He managed to unhook her boots and settled for covering her with a blanket. He watched her sleep for a moment, then walked outside. He cursed Elijah for participating in his father's stupid scheme. Bringing a frail woman to a working farm, right before harvest. There was so much work to do, and how could she do any of it, especially if she was a society girl his father convinced to play at farm wife?

~*~

Heloise was warm and cozy, and burrowed sleepily into the blanket around her. She awoke with a start when she realized she wasn't moving, so wasn't on the train. She looked around the darkened room in a panic, not recognizing where she was. When her memories caught up with her, she realized she must be in her new home. She sat up, wondering if her new husband had been the one to move her.

She was still completely dressed, except for her shoes. She stood up and shook her dress out. She felt so grimy from the train, and wanted nothing more than a hot bath. She took a deep breath and steeled her spine. It was unlikely she would have a bath to luxuriate in, but if there were horses, then there was a trough. Cold water or not, she'd be clean. She winced as she touched her grimy hair, but smoothed it back into chignon.

Heloise stepped into the hallway. The house was much bigger than she'd expected. It seemed odd that such a young man would have such a fine homestead. She followed the sounds to the kitchen, where she stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Jonathan pull a pan out of the oven. She was surprised to see a pot of something burbling away on the cook top, then laughed at herself. It's not like they didn't have to eat before she got there. Elijah noticed her first, and hastily stood up from the table.

"Heloise! I hope you had a good rest." Jonathan turned around and nodded briefly at her before turning back to the food. Elijah continued, "Please, sit. Dinner is just about ready. We were wondering if we should wake you, or let you sleep til morning."

She smiled shyly at the friendly older man, and sat next to him. This was her family now, she had to figure out how to make this work. No matter how grim her new husband seemed to be.

"I'm so sorry, I must have fallen asleep."

Jonathan brought her a plate piled high with a savory stew and golden corn bread. He also gave her a large glass filled to the brim with milk and settled to his own plate. The bread and jam had long since worn thin, and her stomach gave a loud rumble.

Jonathan looked up at her, and she felt herself flush red to her roots. He quirked a small grin at her, gestured with his fork, and said, "Eat up, you're too thin."

If she hadn't been so hungry, she would have been insulted, but she just didn't care and followed the men's lead, tucking into her meal with gusto. She looked up to the men staring at her as she mopped the last juices from her plate with the crust of the still warm corn bread. She arched her eyebrow at her new husband and popped the piece into her mouth. She kept her eyes locked on his as she reached out to her glass and drained the last of the milk, then daintily dabbed at her lips with a napkin. Elijah burst out laughing, and they broke eye contact at the same time.

"Yer a real corker, girl. You'll do fine. We all work hard here, you'll need that appetite and strength to keep up."

She felt her face break into her first real smile in a very long time and said, "Don't worry, Elijah, I'm not afraid of work." Jonathan stood abruptly and walked out of the room. Elijah followed his path with sad eyes, then looked back at Heloise, who couldn't hide her worry in time.

"Don't worry, girl, he's a good man. He just needs some seasoning and the delicate touch of a good woman." She stood up and gathered the dishes. "There is a set of rooms in the stable, that's where I live, so I won't be in your hair while you settle." He looked around the room with a hint of sadness. "It's a good house, just needs some laughter, maybe some littles."

She blushed again, realizing that as a married woman, she'd be expected to have children. Lots of them. She said, "I'm sure you won't be in my hair. Do you have any favorite foods?" She avoided the topic of children and her expected marital duties. She walked over to the sink and was happy to see they had a pump for water. She filled the basin and started doing the dishes.

"Oh, I would just love to have a nice apple pie. I haven't had one since my wife died."

"Is there a root cellar? If you still have apples, I make a devastatingly good pie." She could figure out the crust, after all, she'd watched Anna do it for years. How hard could it be?

"There is! I'm sure you'll get a look around tomorrow, in the morning."

She dried the plates and stacked them on the table. Jonathan came back into the room, and seemed surprised that the dishes were done. Elijah stood up hastily.

"Well, I'm going to go check on the animals. I'll see you in the morning." He gave Jonathan a stern look before walking out of the house.

Heloise heard Jonathan mutter something under his breath, but decided it was better not to ask after he turned his eyes to her. She wilted a little under the hardness of his gaze, yet still managed to put her pleasant, bland mask on. She had a lot of practice keeping her emotions to herself when Momma and Pappa died and she had to keep the family together, and perfected it after everything Albert and Lavinia put her through.

~*~

Jonathan could have smacked himself when a mask settled over Heloise's face. Even if she was a spy of his father's, it didn't matter, they were married. And she had been hungry, tired and filthy when he carried her into the house. It wasn't fakery the way she had devoured dinner. He wasn't really angry at her, she was nothing but another pawn. But she was the closest thing to his father here, and he couldn't help but lash out at her.

"Good, you're figuring out the kitchen. I'll handle it tomorrow, but we usually eat out in the fields, rather than come back." She nodded at him, wariness still in her eyes. Her face was still, but she couldn't quite hide her eyes from him. He liked that. Then he said, "And, we're married now." She went still, and a flash of fear crossed her face. He didn't like that at all. He stared at the ceiling and collected himself, and spoke very deliberately. "I did not intend on frightening you. But we're married now, and I hope we can figure out how to be comfortable with each other before we..." He paused, finding himself lost for words.

And she surprised him again when she said, "Before we perform our marital duties." She sounded so matter of fact that if he hadn't seen the flash in her eyes earlier, he would be less concerned for her air of fragility.

"Yes, that. But we will still be sharing a bed, as there is only the one. And I know you've had a long journey." She looked confused. "I know it's a large home, but much of the furniture was sold, and so there is only the one for us." She nodded at him, and he watched the vein in her neck flutter, belying her calm face. "Also, I know that there were unlikely facilities during the journey. However, we do have a bath." Her mask finally dropped and pure joy exploded across her face.

"I'll start boiling water!"

"It's already ready." She looked confused again.

"Oh, is there another stove?"

He chuckled, gestured at her to follow him, and led her to the back of the house. "My aunt hated two things: dirt and burnt bread. The first thing she made Elijah build was this room." He opened the door and enjoyed her gasp of delight at the large tub of steaming water. "It was originally a laundry room, as my aunt couldn't justify a room that didn't also have a function." He found himself drawn to her, to the joy radiating off of her. He caught himself before he reached for her. He couldn't help but be a little gruff, and gestured to the side. "There is a nightrail and robe there. Use whatever you need." He hurried out of the room before he disgraced himself.

~*~

The second the door closed behind Jonathan, Heloise walked over. She frowned at the lack of lock. She paused for a moment, but the thought of the bath cooling sent her to the bench. She practically ripped her dress and undergarments off and threw them to the ground. After the last few weeks, she wasn't sure if they were recoverable, or if she should plan on burning them. The room was nice and warm, and it made her feel more kindly toward Jonathan. He might run hot and cold, but he clearly was trying to be hospitable.

She found a bucket of cool water waiting by a basin and used it to hurriedly wash the first layer of grime off. She finally settled into the water with a sigh. It was so delightful and warm. She'd never been in such a large tub before. She reached to the side and flipped open a pink box. She was delighted to find some rose-scented french-milled soap, as well as various oils and powders. Heloise smiled to herself, wondering how long it had taken his aunt to turn the laundry into a decadent bath. As she rubbed the soap into her skin, she paused. All these things were very expensive out west. How on earth did they afford these luxuries? There was nothing about the farm that indicated it was any more successful than what she'd seen back east.

Still, if Elijah and his wife had been diligent, it could just be a lifetime of building. She counted herself lucky it was such a lovely home, as she had expected a much rougher homestead.

As she floated and let herself relax, she decided that she would do her best to prove to Jonathan that even if his uncle had tricked him or blackmailed him in some fashion, she would be a help not a hindrance around the farm. He might never love her, but she hoped he would respect her. She could find her place here.

She flipped through the various plans in her head. She had to assume there would be a vegetable garden, as there was no way the woman who's bathing room this was wouldn't have one. Heloise just hoped they'd kept it up. She had her own garden back home, but the ground had been broken and well-manured for years. She ruminated until the water grew cold, and she regretfully slipped out of the tub. She toweled herself off, and squeezed all the water out of her hair. She slipped into the clean nightgown and robe, reveling in the clean cotton against her skin. She found a wooden comb on the bench, and sat down to get the tangles out of her hair. The little pot belly stove kept the room toasty warm, and she found herself with mostly dry hair very quickly.

Heloise was reluctant to leave the cozy retreat and face her stern husband. She comforted herself with his admission that he didn't intend on pressing her for...her duties. She had enjoyed the stolen kisses with Albert, and so hoped that Jonathan would be as pleasant. She settled her face into it's familiar, bland mask, then forced herself to get up and walk out of the room.

~*~

As the minutes crept by, Jonathan found himself as nervous as he imaged his new bride must feel, and hoped he wouldn't have to fetch her to the bedroom. He didn't want to scare her, but he would not have a cold wife, not like Georgina would have been. That was one good thing his father had done, making it clear to Georgy's father that no matter what Georgina did, Jonathan would be disowned if he married her. As much as Jonathan hated to admit it, the old man was right, Georgy was a gold digger, willing to trade her virginity for a wealthy husband. Still, how could Heloise be any different, if she was his father's choice?

Before he could fall further into that rabbit hole, he heard the door swing open and watched his wide eyed little bride enter the room. He hardened instantly at the sight of her hair around her like a halo, the thin white gown and robe hiding nothing. Keeping his hands off her was going to be more difficult than he expected, and he was glad he was already in bed.

"Come lie down, Heloise. I promise you're safe." The lantern she carried cast too many shadows for him to read her eyes, and he hated the way she kept everything off her face. She nodded at him and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry, I need to brush and braid my hair first. It's just in my bag, but I can go back into the other room to not bother you."

"Don't be ridiculous." It came out harsher than he meant and her hands stiffened. His voice softened. "I mean, it won't disturb me." He patted her side of the bed. "Sit here."

She set the lantern down and retrieved her brush. Jonathan watched her sidle up to the bed, and slip under the quilt. They sat on the bed together in companionable silence. He finally looked over to her, and couldn't stop himself.

"Let me. Please." He held his hand out for the brush, and she paused, mid stroke, eyes wide. After what felt like a hundred hours, she finally reached out and handed him the brush. "I know you're tired, and I remember my mother always wanted a hundred strokes of the brush every night."