Lonesome Bride (12 page)

"You shall have your wish,” she said quietly. “I'll never speak of what happened between us at the cabin. I shall never acknowledge our passion got the best of us. I'll pretend it never happened. I shall play at being as chaste a virgin as ever graced a nunnery. Will that please you, Jed?"

Her words nearly tore him apart. No, he wanted to shout.
I don't want to forget what happened. I want to keep the memory by me for those cold winter evenings when I have to look at you doing needlepoint in front of the fire, and know I can't touch you.
Still, he knew what his answer had to be.

"I reckon that'll please me just fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

"We could've been friends, Jed,” she said softly.

"Yes, I reckon so,” he replied. Could have been, but not now. Not after seeing her in firelight, her hair unbound, her face flushed with a passion he believed was illicit and she did not.

He clucked to the horses to get them moving again. The familiar landscape flowed by them. The chuckling stream he had fished in since he was a boy. The green meadows now dotted with the summer's first wildflowers. The mountains far off in the distance, lording over it all like benevolent kings. All these sights, so comforting in the past, now pierced him wretchedly because he could not share them with her.

At last, as they turned a bend in the trail, the house finally came into view. He heard Caite's sharp intake of breath beside him, and felt a surge of pride in the land he had helped his father build.

"It's beautiful,” said Caite, shielding her eyes against the sun. “Oh, Jed, it is lovely!"

"I'm glad you like it,” Jed replied honestly. “It's your home now."

Caite flicked a glance at him, her expression troubled. She bit her lip, and Jed saw her forcefully smooth her face into a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Yes, I suppose it is."

The horses, sensing how close they were to clean, dry stalls and fresh grain, pricked their ears and began to clip along at a faster pace.

"They can't wait to get home either,” Jed said, smiling. He knew his happy expression was just as false as Caite's.

She turned fully to look at him, not seeming to notice the bouncing of the wagon. “Before we get there, Jed, I just wanted to tell you I understand why you felt we did wrong. I do not agree, but I understand."

Again, Jed condemned the circumstances that had brought them together. Fate had played a cruel trick on them both, but there was nothing to be done now. If they were going to get beyond what had happened, they would have to start now.

"I'm glad,” was his answer.

"And I want you to know that even though your words hurt me worse than anyone ever has, I forgive you."

Oh, sweet heaven.
She was forgiving him undeservedly yet again. Was there no limit to this woman's mercy? Better she declare she hated him. Her forgiveness would linger with him far more painfully than her anger.

"I don't believe I said I was sorry,” Jed answered roughly, because he did not know what else to say.

"You did not have to,” Caite replied calmly. “I forgive you anyway."

If they weren't harnessed to the wagon, the horses would gallop, Caite thought. As it was, they trotted as fast as they could, Nutmeg snorting at Ginger as if to hurry her along. At least the horses were looking forward to getting home.

Home.
The thought was so strange. Still, she had meant what she told Jed. She meant to honor her contract. If that meant promising to honor a man who ran as hot and cold as faulty plumbing, then she supposed she could do that. She had lived with her Da's repeated tantrums. Jed's could not be any worse than those.

She still could not understand why he had turned so vehemently upon her. They were as good as wed, since they had each signed a contract. Did the words of a preacher make such a difference to him?

If only the thought of his kiss still did not make me shiver, she thought miserably. She must be as wanton as he claimed if, despite his injurious words, she still yearned for his embrace. What would marriage to this man be like? He had proved a considerate and passionate lover; never mind that he had come to her against his religious beliefs. Did Baptists preach against pleasure in the marriage bed as well? How could she live the rest of her life never able to touch him as she had last night?

"Looks like everyone's turned out to meet us,” Jed commented, pointing to the house.

"My goodness!” Caite exclaimed. “You didn't tell me there were so many!"

"There's Lorna, our housekeeper, and Cooky's beside her. Shorty's over there by the corral."

Caite steeled herself. These people had known Jed for years. They were all probably like family to him. She wanted to make a good impression.

"I do not see your father,” she said, searching the group for a man old enough to have a son Jed's age.

Jed looked at her, his expression odd. “I don't either."

Caite did not have time to determine why he looked so strange because the wagon had at last pulled up into the yard. Before the horses had even stopped, the woman Jed had pointed out as Lorna bustled off the long porch. Wiping her hands on the front of her apron and smoothing wisps of graying blonde hair away from her face, she smiled with such welcome that Caite's nervousness eased.

"Miss Caitleen O'Neal!” the housekeeper greeted, motioning to Shorty to help Caite down from the wagon. “Here she is arriving, the new mistress!"

Lorna's voice had a lilting accent Caitleen could not quite place. She stood a little shorter than Caite herself, with broad shoulders and hips. Her face was unlined, although Caite guessed her to be well into her fifth decade. As soon as Jed had helped Caite down from the buckboard, Lorna gathered her into her arms and planted a moist kiss upon her forehead.

"We've so long been for you waiting, my dear!” Lorna said, holding Caitleen at arm's length to look her over. “What a pretty bride you will be."

Spying the bruise on Caite's temple, Lorna tutted in concern. “What happened to your head?"

"Oh, that's nothing,” Caite laughed, not wishing to share the embarrassing truth of the injury. “I was just careless."

"Well, I will be taking you in and putting some balm on that nasty bump,” Lorna soothed. Her energy made Caite smile for real this time. “And you, young master Jed! I must be giving my Little Jed a greeting!"

Jed seemed discomfited by the older woman's effervescent greeting, but he submitted to her embrace without complaint. “It's good to be back, Lorna."

Lorna tutted again, turning to Caite. “I am hoping the young master took good care of you on your journey to Heatherfield."

For a moment, Caite's eyes met Jed's. He had certainly taken care of her. Whether that care was good or not, Caite could not say. She broke the gaze, and smiled at Lorna. “Yes, Lorna. He was quite a gentleman."

Lorna began guiding Caite toward the long, low, log home. “Come inside and settle yourself. You must be wanting to clean yourself, and I must be making you some tea."

Caite laughed. “Yes, Lorna, thank you! I would love to wash this road dust away, and tea sounds lovely."

"I'll put your trunk in your room,” Jed said.

"Thank you, Jed,” Caite replied.

Lorna was bustling her into the house so quickly she was scarcely able to spare him a glance. That seemed to annoy him. Serves him right, Caite thought. He did not wish her to act as though they had been anything but proper with one another. Now see how he liked it.

"Did you make any of your special apple pie?” Jed called after them, almost as if he were looking for an excuse to delay them.

Lorna turned to look at him fondly. “What, you think Cooky would let me into his kitchen? He spent the past three days making enough food to feed an army. I could not be making a pie to save my life."

"I've heard about Cooky's wonderful food. I can hardly wait to taste some,” Caite said. All the attention was a little overwhelming, but nice.

"'Tis a pleasure,” Cooky said from the porch. He was a small, spare man, whose figure denied his occupation. “C'mon inside, Miss Caite, and Lorna'll put the kettle on. I've got some nice fresh biscuits and strawberry preserves."

For the first time since the day before, Caite's appetite flared. Her stomach rumbled, and she remembered she had forgone breakfast and merely picked at lunch. Biscuits and strawberry preserves would certainly do her a world of good.

"That sounds heavenly!"

"Hold on just a minute, there, Cooky,” Jed said a little too harshly for the occasion. “Miss Caite has other things to do first than stuff her face."

"What has gotten into you, sir?” Lorna asked Jed. Clucking to Caite, she murmured, “I am thinking perhaps he is a little jealous no one is giving him as much attention as we are giving you."

Caite laughed—glad for once to see even Jed Peters could meet his match. “Oh, I'm certain that's not so."

Lorna nodded knowingly, pinching Jed's cheek as if he were a schoolboy. “Oh, I think the young master has too long been the center of excitement around here. Or perhaps he just wishes to have all the biscuits and strawberry jam to himself."

Jed squirmed out of the older woman's touch, flushing red. “If Caite gets to them first, there won't be any left, that's for sure!"

"It is supposing I am Cooky made plenty for all. If young master Jed wishes to be a spoiled child, then we shall let him."

Caite returned the grin, flashing Jed a saucy look. Maybe that would teach him to watch his sharp tongue! She relished his frown for a full minute while he protested to Lorna that she had entirely missed the point. Lorna shushed him so effectively, Caite laughed inside. She could learn a lot from the housekeeper.

"Go on with you now, else I'll be taking a switch to you!” Waving Jed away with her apron, Lorna gave Caite a comfortable squeeze. “I am hoping you will be happy, Miss Caite. I am sorry Big Jed is not here to greet you, but we will make you at home, yes?"

At Lorna's statement, warning bells began to chime in Caite's mind. “Big Jed?"

"Yes, of course—Little Jed's papa. Although he is not so little anymore, our Little Jed, no?” Lorna's words seemed to sink into Caite's mind like stones in a millpond.

Slowly, Caite turned to Jed. “You didn't tell me you share your father's name."

Jed shrugged. He still seemed disgruntled from Lorna's scolding. “You never asked, Caite. Does it matter?"

A sickening realization filled Caite, and she thought for a moment she must be having a nightmare. Surely this cannot be happening, she thought. Surely she would wake up, safe and sound in her own bed at Serenity, and none of this awful journey would ever have taken place.

"Your father's name is Jed Peters?” she asked through numb lips.

Jed's answer seemed to come from very far away. “Yes, his name is Jed Peters, too."

Caite arrested his emerald eyes with hers. All at once, everything had fallen into place. Jed's reluctance and his accusations, so confusing to her before, were now as clear as a summer sky. It seemed suddenly very important she form her next words with extreme care, so none of their meaning could be lost or misconstrued. She swallowed heavily, her breathing shallow enough to make her feel lightheaded. She pressed on. She had to know.

"And I am to marry Jed Peters?"

Horror dawned on Jed's face as he suddenly realized what Caite herself had only just discovered. “You didn't know, did you?"

Caite stumbled toward him, hand upraised as if to slap his face. She had no strength in the blow, however. She barely swatted him.

"I'm to marry your father?"

"You didn't know,” Jed repeated. He sounded as sick as she felt.

"You deceitful, betraying wretch!” Caite breathed, unable to find any force within her to put behind the words. “I thought I was supposed to be marrying you!"

And then all she knew was blessed darkness.

Jed paced the great room of the house with the measured gait of a man who is not even aware he is moving. The memory of Caitleen lying at his feet in a gray-faced puddle blinded him to everything before him. Only his nervous energy kept him moving as he waited to hear from Lorna that Caite was all right.

When Caite had collapsed, he had scooped her up and carried the unconscious woman immediately to the room she would share with his father, laying her down in a bed he wished were his. He had wanted nothing more than to stretch out beside her and cradle her until she awoke. That was out of the question, of course. He could not comfort his father's bride, at least not in the way he desired. To do so would be to reveal the truth of their relationship to everyone.

"You be leaving us, Jed,” Lorna had commanded in a voice that brooked no discussion. “I will be taking care of young Miss Caite."

So here he was, pacing in front of the fireplace, then to the long row of windows looking out to the barn and corral, then back along the log wall to the fireplace again. She hadn't known, he thought. Which explained why her actions had been so contradictory. One minute the proper young maiden, the next a hoyden set on seducing her future husband's son. Of course, she had not realized she was supposed to marry his father. If he was honest with himself, he had to take full responsibility for any seduction.

How could she not have realized who he was? As he paced, Jed searched through every conversation they had shared. Never once had he mentioned his father's name. Never once had she. Any time they had discussed her reasons for coming to Heatherfield, it was always in the vaguest of terms. The marriage, not the marriage to his father. The wedding, not the wedding to his father. Her questions about his family and the son he did not have made perfect sense, now.

Good Lord!
No wonder she had been so confused when told her after the wedding things would change. Caite must have thought he was crazier than a hornet-stung coonhound, telling her that after the wedding they could not act as a married couple. She had no idea he meant he could not continue an affair with his father's wife.

His father's wife. The guilt that had filled him from the first moment he gazed upon Caite with lust had grown tenfold. Not only had he seduced his father's bride, she had been innocent. She had willingly given herself to a man she thought she was going to marry. By her own admission, she had done it to please him. To make matters worse, he had then accused her of committing a sin that was his alone.