An Unwilling Husband (10 page)

“I could sell my nicer dresses. They won’t bring in a lot, but it could help. I have a pair of sapphire earrings from Boston. They could catch a fair price if we find the right buyer.”

Weariness swam in the depths of his brilliant gaze. “No, woman. Keep your baubles. They’ll be a comfort to you in the days to come. It won’t make a difference anyway, and this isn’t your concern.”

“It is so my concern. You made sure of that,” she said quietly.

“Hup,” he said, kicking Rooney again. “Dark is coming, and trust me when I say we aren’t going to want to be caught in this.”

* * * *

By the time they pulled the horses up to the barn, pelting rain had soaked her dress and she had to squint against the stinging drops that sought purchase on her skin. Lenny hopped off and took her mare inside while Garret dismounted and strode to where she still sat Buck.

“Here, let me.” He reached for her waist as she slung a leg over the saddle.

His hands felt so strong as he lifted her down off Buck, and after she was balanced and standing, he left them there for just a moment longer. He peered at her with those piercing eyes as if waiting for her to say something. She shivered at his intimate touch on her waist.

He dropped his gaze to his hands and let her go. “Get inside before you catch cold,” he said in a clipped voice then disappeared into the barn with the horses.

The moment had come and passed so quickly between them. Had she imagined the tenderness in his eyes, the warmth of his touch? The imprint of his hands and caress of his look still heated her skin through the cloth of her dress.
Get inside before you catch cold
, he’d said. She stood where he’d left her, waiting for her heartbeat to settle.

Garret Shaw had a heart after all.

The rain barraged her as she ran the distance to the house. She shook her dress out on the porch then went inside. Her stomach grumbled that breakfast had been a slab of cornbread a long time ago. No doubt Lenny and Garret would be hungry too. In an attempt to try to decide what to fix for dinner, she began rifling through her hidden stash of recipes.

Garret flung the door open and entered, cursing, and shook his hat off. When she slammed the drawer closed, he leered at her. “Don’t feel like you have to cook for me. I know that’s not a skill they teach high falutin’ city folk.”

He headed into his bedroom and she scowled at his back. He’d been almost kind outside and then had to go and ruin it by opening his mouth.

Very well, no pressure. If she fried up a mud pie and put it on the table, she was sure he’d be impressed.

She fried up eggs instead and reheated a pan of leftover biscuits. On his plate, she slapped some dried ham on the side, gave him the half of the egg with the shell in it, and began to eat without him. Her manners could be atrocious, too.

Garret poked his head out of his room and narrowed his eyes. “It smells good in there. Did you cook?”

She washed the mouthful of eggs down with a sip of water and ignored him. As he piled his plate with biscuits she rose, set the dishes in the yawning sink. “I’m going to take a plate to Lenny. I’ll be back soon.”

“You can’t go out there when it’s like this. It’s stormin’ bad out there. Lenny can fend for herself. The hands’ cabin has a kitchen between them.”

While he dug hungrily into his dinner, she packed up the plate for Lenny and put her shawl on.

“Infernal woman. I’ll take it to her. Just give me a danged minute to eat.”

“If you like. I don’t know why Lenny didn’t just come in here and eat dinner with us.”

He leaned back and took a drink of water from his tin cup. “My guess would be because she’s tired of waiting on you hand and foot.”

Oh, the man was just too much to bear. “She has not been waiting on me! We have been taking care of this place together. Lenny is not my servant, she is my friend.” Maybe her anger showed a little too much, and Garret was sure to give her hell over any kind of emotional display, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to care anymore. It had been a long day, and from the way their conversation was shaping up, sure to be a long night as well.

She took off her shawl and unwrapped the damp brown packaging protecting the new dresses. Garret had set them by the door when he’d come in. She would start taking in the waists by the candlelight. A good excuse to ignore him and work on something else, anything else to take her mind off sharing such close quarters with him. He washed his dishes, pulled a tanned, knee length leather duster on and picked up the plate for Lenny.

“I was just teasing you, Maggie,” he muttered, and stepped out the door. Then he backed into the entryway again. “Dinner was good,” he said and went out, into the night, slamming the door closed behind him. She was left to take her frustration out by stabbing the fabric with needle and thread.

* * * *

The door swung open and Garret cursed as it slammed into the wall. He’d tried to catch it but missed, like he didn’t know he’d thrown that much force into opening the barrier in the first place. His jacket was soaked and when he removed his hat, flung rain onto the floorboards as he shook it. Little drops of moisture clung to the ends of his dark hair and Maggie’s fingers itched to touch them, crystals clinging to raven silk. While he shrugged out of his coat, his eyes at last fell upon her and every muscle stopped its movement as he drank her in. The anger left the tightness of his eyes, and instead, there swam surprise. She’d changed into her nightgown and long robe to let her dress dry by the fire. Pools of questioning blue lifted to her eyes as her heart thumped against her ribs. His dark eyebrows drew down and his gaze dropped to the floorboards beneath her feet.

“My dress was wet,” she murmured. She’d never been bedraggled in a sopping dress in front of a man, but neither had she been in a nightdress in mixed company. Either option was mortifying, but her current state seemed to be the worst of the two. Vulnerable. She was at the mercy of his vibrant scrutiny.

How could his lingering look make her want to wear more and less fabric all at once?

Garret strode to the hearth, and his movements were confident and practiced as he stacked kindling and logs and lit it. Twice he caught her watching him. Heat raced into her cheeks, and she hurriedly returned to work on the dresses.

He took a book from the shelf and scooted his chair closer to the fire to read. Every couple of minutes, he glanced at her. Rarely did he turn a page. She did her best to ignore him. Anytime she engaged him, he disappointed her or hurt her feelings, and she had met what she could handle for the day. At the moment, silence was more valuable than freshly panned gold.

She had just curled her feet up under her comfortably, when he cleared his throat.

“What are you doing to that poor dress?” he asked.

“If you must know, I’m taking it in,” she muttered in concentration. “The waist is too big.”

Amusement danced in the clear water color of his eyes and the quirk of his lips. “I think they’re supposed to fit that way.”

With a loud sigh, she set the needlework in her lap. “It’s much too big in the waist and too small in the chest.” His gaze dropped to said assets then he looked up, grinning. Completely unashamed. “It’s my dress, so what does it matter if I fix it for me? I conceded to buying less fashionable dresses to fit in around here, but I will have them fit me. You won’t change me, Garret. You might as well accept me.”

With a snort and a shake of his head, he put the book up in front of his face again. “No man ever had a snowball’s chance of changing you, Miss Flemming.”

“Mrs. Shaw,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Oh. Speaking of dresses, I didn’t know they would be so inexpensive here.” Dropping her sewing on the seat of the chair, she padded over to the small coin purse she’d left in the kitchen and pulled out all the money she had to her name. Convinced he wouldn’t accept it, she set it on the table. “For the ranch,” she declared.

“I can’t take your money.” He stood and stalked toward her, scooped the money off the table.

“See, that is where you are wrong. It’s not my money anymore. It is ours, husband. I am aware you have a lot of history here, but I love this place, too. I’ll help out in any way I can. I’m sorry I cannot do more.”

He took her wrist and tried to uncurl her fingers from the fist she’d made. “You don’t have to do this, Maggie.”

She clenched her fist tighter. “Do what?”

“Pretend this is real.”

Why did he always do that? And how did he know exactly what to say to hurt her? Perhaps it was from the pain slicing through her chest, but she kissed his knuckle lightly, surprising herself. He pulled away as if she had touched him with a branding iron.

A familiar ache burned at his carelessness. “I’m not pretending. I know you don’t want me, but I can at least try to make the best of the situation. Good night, Mr. Shaw.”

Her tears would only stay at bay until she’d shut the door to her bedroom behind her, and then she wept to herself. Just before she drifted off, she wondered if she would ever, in her lifetime, understand what Roy had been thinking when he’d cursed them to this life together.

Chapter 7

Maggie woke to the sound and feel of her own pulse. It started vaguely in the muscles of her limbs and eventually traveled to her hands. A throbbing so acute, she felt as if her fingers twitched with the rhythm of it. When she opened her eyes, however, the hands on the pillow next to her were as still as a corpse. They looked like they belonged to one, too. The pads were torn with blisters and cuts in different stages of healing, and she winced when she tried to close one hand.

In the deep gray before dawn she lit the lantern next to the washbasin. To her surprise, she’d risen early without Lenny’s badgering for the first time since she’d arrived in Rockdale. She rolled over and stretched her arms above her head and breathed in deeply. That she had awakened before the rooster filled her with satisfaction. She wanted to get up and moving before Garret.

Escape was the plan for the day. Freedom from conversation with this stranger she couldn’t quite comfortably call husband, and a reprieve from hurt feelings and disappointment. Escape from thoughts of Garret and Roy and all she’d lost. A good dose of solitude would do her good. She would try to spend time with Lenny though. Her friend was as quiet as a thought and had a comforting presence about her that always put her at ease. Besides, no one should be alone on their twenty-first birthday.

She stood to stretch aching muscles. Would she ever feel normal and pain free again? What that felt like seemed a dim memory.

After she’d dressed in her new yellow dress, one that now fit her quite flatteringly, if she did say so herself, she washed her face and braided her hair. She pinned the braid into a bun and turned her face from side to side to appraise her work. Lenny would be proud. The skin around her eyes was puffy from crying, though. Nothing to be done about that. She turned from the mirror and tidied the room.

The second she walked out her bedroom door, her attempt to avoid Garret failed. He’d chosen the same instant to exit his room across the hallway. She halted, as did he. He had shaved his face. The smoothness of his jaw tempted her to touch it. “Why did you shave?” she asked instead.

He shifted his weight and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “It was starting to bother me. I like to shave it every few days.” Then he looked like a jackrabbit in search of a hiding place. “I don’t need a reason,” he snapped.

She shrugged. What business was it of hers, anyway? She could try to keep herself clear of his emotional upheaval all she wanted to, but the cold hard fact was, she was sorely tempted to reach out and caress his face. Heat flooded her cheeks at the thought. She turned at the same time he did to go down the hall, and ran into him.

Garret backed up and inspected the ceiling. “After you,” he said.

“Thank you.” It came out primly, but she was starting to think it was the only way to talk to a man like Garret Shaw.

She skirted him, straight into the kitchen, and grabbed a couple of biscuits. After she’d wrapped them in a cloth, she placed them gently into the pocket of her gown and walked out the front door without so much as another glance at him.

Lenny wasn’t in the barn or near the corral.

Fat raindrops pummeled down from angry, roiling clouds and doused the clearing. The wind whipped at the exposed skin of her throat and encouraged her to seek shelter. Lenny, wise woman that she was, had likely listened.

She paused when she remembered her shawl, still slung over the back of a dining chair, but refused to have another row with Garret so did not fetch it.