A Bride Most Begrudging (33 page)

He sat down beside her, took her hand in his, and rested them atop his thigh. “Not just yet. Though you’re well, I want you to stay that way so you can attend the Christmas service with me next week. The meetinghouse is quite a trek from here. I would that you were rested for it.”

“How far away is the meetinghouse?”

He pursed his lips. “If we walk at the rate of 3 miles an hour, we shall be 10 minutes late, but if we walk 4 miles an hour, we shall be 20 minutes too soon. Know you now how far it is from here?”

She arched a brow. “You thought that up ahead of time.”

“Maybe.”

Suppressing a smile, she cleared her throat. “I’ve a question for you too.”

He nodded once.

“I ask you, sir, to plant a grove, to show that I’m your lady love. This grove though small must be composed of 25 trees in 12 straight rows. In each row 5 trees you must place, or you shall never see my face.”

His eyes flickered. “How long will it take you to solve my puzzle?”

“How long will it take you to solve mine?”

“I already have.”

She choked back a laugh. “You lie.”

“How long will it take you?” he asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

His gaze caught and held hers. “Care to place a wager on it?” He skimmed a callused thumb across her knuckles. “And this time, there will be no bargaining over dishwashing.”

Her heart fluttered. “Then what will we wager upon?”

“A kiss. A kiss freely given.”

“And if I win?” she said, swallowing tightly.

His eyes darkened. “I’ll forfeit much, much more than just a kiss.”

She fingered the locket about her neck. “I’ll need my slate.”

He bent toward the fire, scooping up a handful of cold soot and spreading it out on the hearth. “Sketch away.”

For a space of several beats, she considered him, then found herself on her knees beside the pile of soot. She quickly scratched several numbers into it before glancing back over her shoulder. “Clock’s ticking. You’d better get over there with your own soot.”

Chuckling, he moved to the opposite end of the hearth. Twenty-five minutes later, she sat back. He was leaning against the hearth, one leg extended, one bent, his face propped atop his palm. He removed the pipe from his mouth. “About time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

A slow smile stretched across his face.

“What’s your solution?” she asked.

“Come see.”

She rose to her knees, shuffling over to his drawing. He had indeed laid out a grove in which 25 finger indentions were placed in such a way that each row held 5 indentions for a total of 12 rows.

“What’s the answer to my puzzle?” he asked.

She sat back on her heels. “Church is a five-mile walk from here.”

He smiled. It was a two-dimple smile. “Wrong. You lose.”

Her eyes widened. “How so?”

He smoothed the soot beside him, effectively erasing his grove, then scribbled numbers into the ashes. “If
d
is the time it takes to walk to church at 3 miles per hour and 4 miles per hour respectively and the difference is half an hour, then
d
over 3 minus
d
over 4 equals one-half. Multiply both sides by twelve to eliminate the fractions and you have
4d
minus
3d
equaling 6. Church is a
six
-mile walk from here.”

She studied his figures. Oh no. How could she have miscalculated something so elementary?

“What formula did you use to come up with five miles?” he asked.

Her eyes drifted closed. “The wrong one.”

He brought his hands together with a clap, a tiny cloud of soot tickling her nose.

She opened her eyes, but he’d already moved to resettle himself upon the bench. Spreading his knees, he rubbed his thighs. “I’m ready for my forfeit.”

Heat stole into her face. Looking one more time at his figures, she pulled her trapped skirt from beneath her knees, then slowly stood.

His gaze roved boldly over her. A flash of self-consciousness threatened her resolve before she reined it in. Gliding toward him, she moved between his knees, stopping just short of touching him. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered.

He immediately acquiesced. She pecked him on the nose, then whirled, darting back to the fireplace, but not before he snagged a portion of her skirt.

“I don’t think so.” His voice had dropped two octaves.

She looked behind her, watching as he wrapped her skirt about his fist, effectively reeling her in. “I gave you the forfeit! One kiss. Freely given.”

“That was not a kiss and well you know it.”

“It most certainly was. That you neglected to specify where and how the kiss was to be administered is no fault of mine.”

He had her between his knees now and gave a quick jerk, causing her to drop onto one of his legs. He touched a finger to his lips. “Right here, Connie. I’ll have one right here.”

She bit the insides of her cheeks. “Really? Or else …”

A glint of mischief entered his eyes. “I dare not threaten to make you sit here all night until you do so, or you might very well take me up on it.”

A giggle worked its way up, then she sighed with an exaggerated sense of resignation, wrapped her arms about his neck, and pressed her lips to his. That was the last bit of control she exerted over the kiss, for he immediately took charge. All thoughts of forfeits and challenges fled from her mind. She parted her lips, he deepened the kiss.

Shifting, she sought to slow the pace a bit. He pulled her closer, but the bench made his movements awkward, threatening to unseat them at every turn.

Tearing his mouth from hers, their eyes met, a flurry of butterflies brandishing their wings within her tummy.

“Are you frightened?” he asked.

She swallowed. “I didn’t think I would be. I thought I’d be … oh, I know not. The only word I can think of is, well,
anxious
.”

He became very still. “
Anxious
as in
impatient
?”

Heat flooded her face.

He squeezed her waist. “It’s not a shameful thing to be feeling, not for your husband.”

“How do you know?”

“I looked it up in the Bible.”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t!”

“I did. And it’s very biblical to be wanting your mate. As a matter of fact, it says to rejoice in the sharing of your flesh—to relish it, even.”

She smiled behind her hand. “It does not.”

“It does too. Proverbs 5:18.”

Laughter bubbled up from her throat. She knew perfectly well it said no such thing, but she’d never expected him to soothe her in such an outrageous way.

He frowned. “I’ll show you.”

She tightened her grip on his shoulder, stopping him. “Where are you going?”

“To get my Bible.”

“Right now? You can’t get your Bible out right now! I’m, I’m, we’re just about to, to …” She’d never be able to go through with this if he got out his Bible. She wiped all humor from her face. “I believe you. Proverbs 5:18. ‘Rejoice, relish, and romp with your husband.’ ”

He chuckled. “I’m serious, Connie, and I won’t have you feeling ashamed or unclean over anything we do in that bed, tonight or any other night.”

“I won’t. I feel unashamed and very clean. I promise. But please don’t get out that Bible.”

“What? Think you God can’t see us right now?”

Groaning, she slid off his lap and covered her face with her hands. He sunk to his knees in front of her, drawing her hands down. “I love you. You love me. We are man and wife. God is watching, Connie, and He is very, very pleased.”

I love you
. It was the first time he’d ever said it to her. She’d known it, of course. Known it since he’d killed Mr. Meanie, but she hadn’t realized how much she wanted to hear the words. A warm glow flowed through her.

And, truth was, she
didn’t
feel ashamed. And she
had
in the very back of her mind worried over it. Smiling, she tilted her head to the side. “Shall we rejoice?”

He grinned. “By all means.”

Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to their marriage bed.

chapter
T
WENTY
-
T
WO
   

A CACOPHONY OF VOICES filtered up from the cellar, punctuated by short barks of laughter. Josh dropped the ticks, quietly closing the front doors behind him. “Wait here.”

The clamor grew louder as he made his way down the stairs. Standing on the bottom step, he watched as one-by-one the men noticed him, stopped speaking, and jumped to their feet.

He advanced into the room. “Dig you den.”

Thomas stepped forward and they clasped hands. “Welcome home, Master Josh.”

“Thank you, Thomas. It’s good to be back. I can see the lot of you have been enjoying Mary’s meals. You men were but a big bag of bones when we first arrived.”

A few chuckles and murmurs of agreement answered him. He made a point of greeting each man with a handshake, a slap on the shoulder, and a comment or two. He mentioned his sorrow over the loss of Browne and Payne, as well as his pleasure that everyone else was in such good health. They relaxed some, but none resumed their seats on the floor.

“I decided to try out my new chambers and thought I’d best come down and warn you of my presence. I had no wish to confront any of you in the midst of the night thinking I was a cutpurse of some kind.”

More chuckles and murmurs. He scanned the bricked-in room. “You’ve been busy. The house is spectacular, and Drew says the tobacco crop is one of the best we’ve ever had. It’s pleased I am to come back to such news.”

All but Thomas lowered their chins and shuffled their feet. “Thank you, sir.”

“ ’Tis I who should be doing the thanking.” Josh slapped Thomas again on the shoulder. “Well, I’m going to borrow some of the split wood I saw outside and then retire. Good night, men. I’ll see you in the morning.”

————

Flames cavorted among the logs, devouring the pine kindling before taking the slow-burning oak into its embrace. Josh poked at the fire, trying to maximize the amount of heat it put forth, for the barren chamber was cold, as well as quiet and very still.

Nary a sound reached them from belowstairs. Josh glanced at Mary’s form hovering just inside his doorway. He hadn’t wanted the men to know she was here, aware of what the implications would be if they had. He’d planned to have her sleep here in his chamber while he slept in Drew’s with no one the wiser. But the more he thought of it, the more impractical that became.

What if one of the men did come abovestairs? How could he even begin to protect her when he lay in a completely different room? There weren’t even any doors yet. And those men had been without women for a very long time. She’d be lying alone here much like a lamb waiting for the slaughter.

Besides, it was deuced hard to warm these huge chambers, and he had no desire to lug up another stack of lumber. No, it would be best if they both slept in here together, where he could keep his eye on her. “Come, Mary. Warm yourself.”

She did as he instructed, but with obvious hesitation. He gave his full attention back to the fire, thinking it might put her more at ease if he were to be engrossed with its care.

When the fire became too hot to tend, he retrieved the ticks from across the room and threw them in front of the hearth. “Sit down, Mary. Please.”

She wrung her hands, then did as he asked, looking much like a newly placed fence post—stiff, sturdy, and rigid. He settled onto the other tick, propping his elbow on his bent knee while fingering the toothpick in his mouth. Silence permeated the room while each watched the flames paw at the thick pile of logs.

It was highly improper what they were doing. And both knew it. The emptiness of the house and room only added to the feeling of isolation and seclusion. A room even as bare as the cottage at least had a bed, a board, benches, and chests. This room had absolutely nothing except two ticks, a man, a woman, and a very large wooden floor. To pretend the atmosphere wasn’t wrought with tension was ludicrous.

He glanced at her, feeling sure she was cognizant of it. She still held herself perfectly erect in the midst of her tick, arms wrapped around knees that hugged her chest beneath her skirt. He rolled the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.

Adding to the impropriety of it all was the risk of being caught by one of the eight men only two stories below them. If they were to be discovered, the men might think Mary was free game from then on. He sighed. He should have left her at the cottage and come here alone. “Do you wish to go back?”

If possible, her body stiffened even more. “Needs I?”

He slowly removed the toothpick from his mouth. “I’ll not be making any advances on you, if that’s what you mean.”

The grip she had on her hands relaxed some. “I see no need to return until morning, I don’t. Not unless
you
wish it.”

“No. No, I don’t.”

She looked at him then, but didn’t ask. Didn’t ask why he’d baited Drew. Didn’t ask why he’d whispered inappropriate words through the courting stick. Didn’t ask why he’d been making such an idiot of himself. But she didn’t need to. Those huge eyes of hers said it all.

He clamped down on the toothpick. “I found your husband.”

She pulled her attention away from him.

“He was already six feet under, though, so I couldn’t tear him apart for you. Seems somebody else beat me to it.”

Laying her forehead against her updrawn knees, she made no comment.

“Wish you to hear the details?”

“You are sure it was Obadiah?” Her voice was muffled but very distinguishable in the vacant room.

“I’m sure.”

She shook her head. “I care not for the details, I don’t.”

Look up, Mary. Are you crying? Or are you simply relieved? Look up and let me see
. She remained as she was, hiding within the folds of her skirt.