Handpicked Husband (Love Inspired Historical) (18 page)

For his part, Adam received claps on the back and good-natured jabs. The citizens of Turnabout seemed more than happy to welcome him into their midst.

But each time their glances met across the churchyard, she saw that same flatness that chilled her to her very core. She imagined that would be the same look he’d give to whoever had framed him and sent him to jail for six years.

At last the buggy was brought around. Their bags and a large hamper of food was already stowed inside.

Reggie noted Trib was tied to the back.

Amid more well wishes and knowing glances, the newlyweds were escorted to the buggy and Ira handed the reins to Adam.

Neither said a word as they rode away. When they turned onto the rutted trail that would eventually lead to Reggie’s cabin, Adam slowed the vehicle to a stop.

“I assume you know how to handle a buggy?” His tone was excruciatingly polite.

She nodded.

“Good.” He handed her the reins and stepped down. A moment later he’d untied Trib and mounted up. Riding around to the front, he met her gaze again. “If you feel the need to stop and rest, just call out.” With that, he nudged Trib into a trot.

Reggie flicked the reins and set the buggy in motion. It was a relief not to have his stony, disapproving presence sitting beside her. But this lonely ride was giving her too much time to think about what might happen once they reached the cabin.

Did he intend to continue with this chilly politeness?

Adam stayed within easy hailing distance, but he never once looked back. Although Reggie would have enjoyed an opportunity to stand up and stretch for a few minutes, she held her peace. Better to endure a long ride without pause than to face the look of betrayal and distaste in his eyes again.

There would be time enough for that at the cabin.

An eternity later, Regina sat up straighter. They’d reached the spot where she’d first encountered the four men. Had it been only three weeks ago?

Something in the way Adam shifted in the saddle told her he recognized the spot, too. What was he thinking? Would he finally glance back at her?

Instead, he nudged Trib to a faster pace. By the time she reached the cabin, Adam had already dismounted.

He stepped forward to hand her down, but didn’t maintain contact longer than absolutely necessary. “Just tether the horse to that branch,” he said, already moving away. “I’ll unload the bags and unhitch the buggy after I take care of Trib.”

Reggie watched him disappear behind the cabin, then secured the horse as he’d directed. Ignoring his other instructions, she lifted the hamper and carried it inside. She wouldn’t be able to eat anything tonight, but Adam might be hungry.

She dusted off the table and spread a cloth on it. She’d just laid out a simple meal when Adam walked in, carrying two buckets of water.

“I thought you might want to freshen up after that ride.” He glanced at the table. “Don’t bother setting out anything for me. What I ate at the reception will hold me until morning.”

He moved back to the door and returned shortly with her bags. “You can take this bed,” he said, depositing her things near the curtained alcove. “I’ll take the loft.”

Well, that answered one of her questions.

As she picked up the dishes she’d already laid out, Reggie noticed her hands trembled slightly.

It was just as well he wouldn’t look at her.

“Don’t bother waiting up for me,” he added. “I plan to do some exploring. I may be a while.”

“Be careful,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could. “These woods can be tricky to find your way around in, especially after dark.” She’d offer to guide him, but she knew her presence wouldn’t be welcome.

“I’ll manage.” He gave her a ghost of his old smile. “If I get lost, I’ll whistle.” Then his expression shuttered again, as if he regretted even that small bit of thawing.

Without another word, he left.

That night, Reggie lay in bed, staring at the raftered ceiling and straining to hear some sign that he’d returned. Darkness had fallen an hour ago. Even though a full moon provided plenty of light, she was getting worried.

At last she heard his boots on the front porch and relief washed over her.

He didn’t come inside, though. She imagined him leaning against the porch rail, staring off into the starry night sky.

What was he thinking? Was he railing against the fate that had tied him to her? Even without her sordid past, she wasn’t at all like the woman he’d been engaged to before.

Emma Silverton.

She’d been the most sought-after debutante in Philadelphia and she’d set her sights on Adam.

The woman was classically beautiful, had skin like cream, the voice of a songbird and hair like spun gold. She moved with a feminine grace and her smile could reduce even the hardest-hearted person into a willing lackey.

She’d also had the greed of a spoiled two-year-old and all the compassion of an adolescent bully. It hadn’t surprised Reggie to learn the self-centered socialite had abandoned Adam the moment he was arrested.

But did Adam still have feelings for her?

Reggie had kept up with Emma through the years—a sort of macabre fascination on her part. She knew Emma had married someone else while Adam was in jail. Another lawyer in the firm Adam had worked for, the son of a senator no less.

Reggie rolled to her other side. Then stilled as the cabin door opened.

Adam stepped inside and her heart began an erratic thumping. She stared at the curtain as if she could see though it, following his progress by the sound of his footsteps.

He stopped halfway across the room. What was he doing? She was afraid to move, to even breathe for fear she would miss some sound he might make.

After what seemed an eternity he moved on and she heard him climb the ladder to the loft.

That was it then. He’d made his decision and obviously wanted nothing to do with her.

Reggie pulled the pillow tight against her chest, trying to smother the pain there.

* * *

Adam undressed in the cramped loft and stretched out on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling. Last night when he’d gone to bed, his mind had been full of ideas on how best to woo his marriage-shy bride. He’d vowed to be patient with her, to do his best to gain her trust.

Marriage-shy—hah! She would no doubt think it a grand joke that he’d been so concerned with her maidenly reluctance.

He had seen her bold, independent manner as another facet of honesty and an unwillingness to compromise her values. Her refusal to let what others think influence her actions had seemed a refreshing change from the attitude of the women he’d known before. But she’d taken that I’ll-do-as-I-please attitude one step too far.

By her own admission, Regina was more sinner than saint. A woman who could freely give away both her innocence and her child was too cold-hearted and uncaring for him to develop any tender feelings for.

Even if she did look like a wounded innocent tonight.

So why did he still feel this strong attraction to her?

And what did he intend to do about it?

Chapter Fifteen

A
dam woke to the tempting smell of freshly brewed coffee and frying ham. He was suddenly very aware of how long it had been since he’d last eaten.

Regina glanced up briefly when he joined her. “Good morning. Breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

“Thanks.” He sat at the table, determined to maintain the polite detachment he’d assumed yesterday.

Then he took a good look at her as she set a plate in front of him. Dark smudges underlined her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well. But gone was the vulnerable, cowed woman from yesterday. There was determination in the set of her shoulders, a glint of challenge in her eyes, purpose in her movements.

She’d apparently recovered from whatever crisis of conscience she’d been feeling.

Regina set her own plate on the table and looked him square in the eyes. “We have to talk,” she said firmly.

He picked up his fork. “I’m listening.”

“My confession yesterday outraged your personal moral code—I understand that. However, there’s nothing I can do to change what is in the past. I need to know what I can expect from you going forward.”

He detected no guilt in her demeanor, no sense that she felt shame or remorse. Only a determination to regain control over her situation.

“If you’re referring to our time here,” he said, “I think it would be best if we had as little interaction as possible. In fact, I suggest you proceed for the most part as if I’m not here and I’ll do the same.”

He noticed a tightening of her jaw, there and gone from one heartbeat to the next. “And when we return to Turnabout?”

“I believe we’re both capable of maintaining an air of civility when we’re around others. I will, of course, take a separate bedroom.”

“And will your ‘civility’ extend to Jack also?”

“Don’t worry. I plan to treat Jack as if he were my son.” He’d try to make sure Jack never felt neglected or unwelcome.

Then he paused with his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “As a matter of fact, I suppose Jack’s actually my stepson now.”

She leaned forward. “I’d still like to formally adopt him.”

He nodded cynically. “That way you can finally have him call you mother without revealing any embarrassing little secrets.” He set his cup down and gave her a hard look. “I believe you gave up that right when you gave
him
up.”

She flinched, the first sign of vulnerability he’d seen today. “Are you saying you’re opposed to my adopting him?”

“
Our
adopting him, you mean. Of course I’m not opposed, but let’s resolve some of the bigger issues first, like having that talk with your grandfather.”

He pushed away from the table. “Thank you for breakfast. Now, I think I’ll take Trib out for a bit of exercise.”

* * *

Reggie didn’t watch him leave. She pushed the food around on her plate with a fork until she heard him step off the porch.

Is this what she had to look forward to—chilly politeness and stilted conversation?

If so, she’d have to make it work. She couldn’t let Jack see her misery. But was she that good an actress?

Reggie took her time cleaning up from breakfast. Once that was done, she stood in the middle of the cabin, at a loss for what to do next. She didn’t have her camera equipment with her or even a book to read. She had to find something to keep herself occupied, something to keep her maudlin thoughts at bay.

Grabbing a rag and scrub brush, she set about cleaning the already neat cabin with a vengeance.

Adam came back from his ride about lunchtime. What little conversation they had consisted mainly of excruciatingly polite requests to pass one dish or another.

As soon as he’d finished, he once again pushed back from the table. “I noticed you’re getting low on firewood. I assume there’s an axe here somewhere I can use to cut a fresh stack.”

She nodded. “There’s one out in the feed crib. But this is the hottest part of the day. You should wait until later this evening when it cools down a bit.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Was her company so distasteful that he’d rather work out in the midday heat than sit in the same room with her?

Fine. Let him go. He could work himself down into a little puddle of sweat for all she cared.

He moved toward the door. “When I’m done with the firewood I’ll probably try my hand at some fishing.”

Not trusting herself to say anything, Reggie merely stood and began clearing the table. She took her time with the housework, but there really wasn’t much to do. As she put away the dish rag, she compressed her lips in a determined line. She was not going to just sit here and mope.

A vigorous walk was just what she needed.

It was late afternoon before she saw him again. His indifference was harder to take than anger would have been. If only she could force some emotion from him.

Any emotion!

She had to find a way to get through to him, to make it difficult for him to continue to ignore her.

Hearing him outside, she stepped out on the porch to find him sitting on the steps, whittling on a stick.

She hesitated, then stepped forward and leaned her stomach against the porch rail. “No luck with the fishing?”

He didn’t look up. “I don’t seem to attract good luck in much of anything I do.”

Reggie mentally winced. Not a promising start.

Just keep talking.

“I checked the food hamper. There’s only a little of the ham left. But there’s cheese and bread and some fruit preserves, too. It’s not fancy vittles, but I should be able to fix us something filling for supper.”

He shrugged. “Don’t go to any trouble on my account. I’m used to prison fare, remember?”

Reggie doggedly tried again. “Thank you for refilling the water barrel and for taking care of the firewood.”

His knife bit a deep gouge in the wood. “Don’t worry, I intend to carry my share of the load.”

Something inside Reggie snapped. Her feelings of guilt gave way to good old-fashioned anger.

She stomped down the stairs and whirled around to confront her stony-faced husband. “I’ve had enough of you trying to make me feel like I’m a no-account jezebel who’s less appealing than snail slime. Yes, I did something terrible and foolish seven years ago. But I was only sixteen, for mercy’s sake! And I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “For good or ill, I’m your wife now, and I deserve at least a smidgeon of respect.”

He very deliberately folded the pocket knife and brushed the shavings from his pants leg. Then he stood, towering over her like someone about to pronounce sentence. Would he give her a blistering set-down? Argue with her? Stalk away?

But his expression remained maddeningly impassive. “I intend to afford you every respect you are due. If at any time you feel I’ve failed to do so, please don’t hesitate to say so.”

He stepped down. “Please don’t bother to wait supper for me, I’m going for a walk and—”

“I know,” she interrupted bitterly, “it may be quite late before you return.”

Without even a flicker of change in his expression, Adam nodded and stepped past her.

As quickly as it had come, her anger died.

It was no use. She couldn’t even rile him to anger anymore.

Reggie trudged up the steps and sat down on the porch swing. With a listless push of her foot, she set it in motion. She wished she at least had Buck with her. He would have been better company than her so-called husband.

It was nearly dusk when Reggie finally went back inside. She lit a lantern then stood wondering what to do next. She was too restless to go to bed, but she didn’t really have anything to do.

She hadn’t packed so much as a book to read.

Book. That reminded her of something.

Reggie moved to the wooden chest that rested to one side of the loft ladder, and knelt beside it. She hesitated a moment, then lifted the lid. Pushing aside some linens and blankets, she unearthed Granddaddy Noah’s Bible.

Plopping down cross-legged on the floor, Reggie set the heavy book in her lap. She brushed her hand lightly, almost reverently, on the leather-bound cover, then opened it up.

There, printed in different inks and hands, was her family history on her mother’s side, all the way back to her great-great-grandfather, Hiram Forrester. It was all recorded here—births, marriages, deaths.

As a child, whenever she’d seen Granddaddy Noah with his Bible, she’d asked him about those people. He’d tell her wonderful stories about who they’d been, how they’d lived, how they’d died. And he’d always ended by pointing to her name and saying that someday her own husband and children would be listed there, and that she could pass the volume down to one of her children who would continue the tradition.

She’d look at the blank section and envisioned the unending march of names that would fill it. The thought of all that history, and her part in it, had fascinated her, had given her a sense of belonging as nothing else ever had.

Regina crossed the room and placed the Bible carefully on the table. Then she searched around until she found some writing materials. With painstaking care, she added Adam’s name next to her own with yesterday’s date. Then she sat back and looked at the entry, bittersweet sadness clogging her throat.

That would quite likely be the last entry ever made into this book. It all ended with her.

Jack’s name should be recorded here, of course. But the thought of him stumbling upon the entry had been too daunting. As Adam had pointed out with such moral righteousness, she had given up the right to claim her son long ago.

And since her new husband had also made it abundantly clear he couldn’t bear to spend even a few minutes alone with her, there would be no children from this union.

What an awful mess she’d made of not only her own life but Adam’s as well.

She traced the names listed there with her finger, feeling as if she’d let every one of those people down. When she reached her grandfather’s name, her finger started trembling. “Oh, Granddaddy, I’m so sorry.”

Then, as if he’d been standing beside her, she heard the words he’d uttered so long ago.

“But this book contains more than our family history. It contains the glorious story of God’s love for us and the key to true happiness, in this life and the next. Don’t ever forget that.”

But she had. Somewhere along the way, she’d let her shame push her away from that all-encompassing love. Was it too late?

And with that, she folded her arms on the table and lay her head on them, finally letting the pent-up sobs come.

* * *

Adam dropped the stub of his cigar and ground it with the heel of his boot. Night had fallen and he had only the moon and stars to light his way. Not that he really needed them. He’d walked this path so many times today he had every twist and turn, every dip and bump memorized.

The cabin finally came into view and all seemed quiet inside. The only light visible was a single lamp shining from the kitchen window.

Still, Adam hesitated. He wasn’t ready to go inside yet, at least not until he was certain she was asleep. He couldn’t face that bruised look in her eyes again, not tonight. Yes, she’d done something terrible. The same unforgivable thing his mother had done to him.

But that didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing her spirit crushed.

He’d actually been relieved when she’d roused enough to give him what for earlier. Not that he’d ever admit that to her.

Was he being too unbending? She was right about one thing. They were married, and, for Jack’s sake if nothing else, they had to find a way to live together in some semblance of harmony.

Perhaps before they headed out tomorrow they could sit down and talk about it.

Satisfied with that decision, and confident that she’d turned in for the night, Adam climbed the porch steps. He slipped his muddy boots off by the door and quietly stepped inside.

Then stopped. Regina was asleep all right, but she hadn’t gone to bed. She was seated at the dining table with her head pillowed on her arms. A book lay open beside her.

Should he just slip quietly past her and go up to bed. Surely she’d wake on her own before morning and seek out her own bed. Especially if he made a bit of extra noise settling in upstairs.

But that didn’t feel right.

With a sigh, Adam moved toward the table. As he approached, the book caught his eye. A Bible? Had she turned to the Good Book in penitence? Or was she searching for answers?

Then he realized it wasn’t open to scripture, but to the front pages that listed family history. Curious, he peered over her shoulder, trying to read the names. Her elbow covered a portion of it, but it seemed to be a record of her maternal lineage.

His gaze fell on the last entry. When he saw his name listed beside hers, his breath caught. It was as if a whole clan had reached out and welcomed him into their midst.