Her Wyoming Man (3 page)

A couple joined them then, and Nathan introduced her to Eldon and Rowena Templeton.

“I understand you’re from Illinois,” Eldon said. “What’s the land like in that part of the country?”

“It’s green, with lush fields of beans and winding rivers,” she replied as though she actually knew first hand. She’d heard about the Illinois landscape from a man back at Madame Fairchild’s dinner table. All she knew firsthand were flat prairies and dry Kansas dust kicked up by endless herds of cattle led from the trail to the stockyard pens—and even those scenes she’d taken in through closed and barred windows.

“It sounds lovely,” his wife said. “I know Nathan is glad you chose to travel to Wyoming, but it must be quite a change for you.”

“It’s a big change,” she answered. “And all for the better.”

Rowena gave Nathan a grin. “You are a lucky man, Nathan Lantry.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed.

He gazed down at Ella, and she gave him the smile his friends expected. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she leaned against him. They stood hip to hip, more or less, and she was the first to break their locked gaze and look away.

With all the attention and after meeting so many new people, she’d grown tired, but she kept her fatigue and emotions well disguised. When the guests at last took their leave a few at a time, Nathan assured her it was acceptable for her to excuse herself and go upstairs. “The last room on the right,” he told her. “I’m afraid your things aren’t unpacked, but you’ll have plenty of time to settle in over the next few days.”

Climbing the stairs, she left the murmur of voices below to find the room he’d indicated. Oil lamps lit the generous space in a welcoming glow, and she wondered who had made the preparations. The woman in the black dress and white apron who’d answered the door perhaps?

Her six enormous trunks were neatly lined against one wall, and she opened each to find her hairbrushes, nightgowns and toiletries.

A pitcher of water and towels had been placed on a stand behind a divider brightly painted with peacocks and oriental flowers. Ella was well practiced at unbuttoning the low-cut back of her gown, and she quickly stepped from her dress and hung it over the screen before stripping out of her underclothing. She washed with the thick cloth and her fragrant soap and then dried.

After using glycerin on her elbows, hands and feet, she dusted her body with talc and pulled a shimmery sheer gown over her head. She took time to brush out her hair and sparingly rouge her lips and cheeks. She unwrapped jewelry that had been rolled in stockings, placed the stockings in a drawer and the necklaces and rings back in a wooden chest. She poked through the gemstones, each of them reminding her of the life she wanted to forget. Without selecting an item, she closed the box and tucked it into the bottom drawer of the bureau. Lastly, she slipped on a silk dressing gown and belted the sash at her waist.

Ella dabbed perfume behind her knees and a little on her décolletage and examined her reflection in the mirror. Everything about her new life was unfamiliar…everything but this. The one thing she knew how to do was please Nathan when he came to their room.

Chapter Four

T
he thought of pleasing her new husband had her looking around the room one more time. She opened the closet to find bare pegs and the shelves barren save for extra blankets. The bureau drawers held nothing but the items she’d placed in them. There was no sign of the man or his belongings.

He owned an enormous well-furnished house with many bedrooms. Apparently she had her own. Was that usual? She had no inkling of normal sleeping arrangements for husbands and wives.

She put away the rest of her lingerie and hung several dresses to pass the time, but she was tired and eventually perched on the chair before the cold fireplace and studied a still life of fruit spilling from a basket. The painting hung by a gold cord from the crown molding over the mantel.

Her eyelids were drooping when after several minutes a knock sounded at the door.

Ella crossed the room to open it.

Nathan stood in the hallway, his broad form and dark hair lit by the wall lamps, still dressed in the formal clothing he’d worn for the ceremony and reception. With a welcoming smile, she stepped back to allow him to enter.

His gaze fell immediately to her dressing gown, and the lace that peeked from the deep V where the front overlapped. He swallowed.

Break the ice.
“It was a lovely party, Nathan. Thank you.”

He drew his attention to her face. “It was my pleasure.”

Make him welcome.
“I was waiting for you.”

Stepping in, he closed the door, but didn’t turn the key in the lock. Once he stepped farther into the room, she took the initiative and locked the door.

His slight frown revealed uncertainty. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’m eager to hear what you have to say. Would you like to sit? Let me help you remove your jacket.”

He kept his gaze from wavering to the bed. “Please. Have a seat.”

He waited until she had settled on the settee and then took a chair across from her. “I’m aware that our marriage is unconventional,” he began.

She had no experience with marriage, conventional or otherwise. “I intend to be a good wife, Nathan.”

“I appreciate that,” he replied. “And more than anything I hope you’ll be comfortable and content here. Everything is new to you. The territory. This marriage. Because of the circumstances, we were forced to make decisions quickly, and that’s not an ideal condition. Courting gives a couple time to learn about each other, time to grow comfortable and at ease.”

“I don’t feel cheated,” she said. “I’m prepared to be your wife.”

“Ella,” he said kindly, “there are aspects to marriage that shouldn’t be rushed. You’re young, with tender sensibilities, and I refuse to take advantage of you by consummating our marriage while you’re unprepared.”

At last his hesitancy took shape in her mind. “You don’t intend to come to my bed tonight.”

“No.”

“Will you be sleeping in another room?”

“I’ve given you your own room for privacy’s sake.”

A sinking sensation settled in her chest, dangerously close to her heart. He didn’t want her? Ella kept her features passive and calm, but inside she quaked with uncertainty. Fear got a tiny foothold on her confidence. What had she gotten herself into? Half a dozen men had looked at her with lusty thoughts swimming in their gleaming eyes, and she had chosen to marry the one man who didn’t desire her?

How would she prove herself—endear herself to him? How would their relationship be sealed?

“I intend to court you, Ella. You deserve enough time to come to terms with a marriage and all it entails. We will observe a courtship period before we become intimate.”

She remembered to breathe. “And how long would that be?”

“I have my mind set on six months.”

Six months?
Why entire towns sprang up in less time. Wars were fought and… “What will we do for six months?”

“We’ll get to know each other.”

Her thoughts traveled back to his proposal.
I’m not asking because I need you to perform household chores,
he’d said.
I’m asking because I believe we could develop a mutually satisfying relationship.

At the time she’d known exactly what that meant. She still understood. He hadn’t needed her to clean or cook or even to look after his children. She would have learned how, but all those tasks were taken care of. No, he wanted her because he needed a woman at his side in public and in his bed in private.
Hadn’t he?

But because he believed she’d come from a genteel background and was like any other young unmarried woman her age, he believed she needed protection and shelter…a slow tender initiation to the ways between men and women.

She appreciated him all the more for his concern. But she was all the more determined to win his favor. “Will you kiss me?”

“I—” He had obvious trouble forming his reply.

“Is kissing part of courtship?” she insisted.

“Yes. Most certainly it is.”

She rose to her feet. “Then I’d like you to kiss me.”

When he stood and stepped forward, she tipped her head back to look up at him. Still, he hadn’t closed all the distance between them. She took the step that brought her against him and rested her hand on the front of his jacket. Parting her lips, she waited.

Instead of bending forward and covering her mouth with his as she expected, he raised his hand to her cheek and cupped it. With grave tenderness, he slid his fingertips into the hair at her nape. An unanticipated shiver ran across her shoulder and down to her breasts, tightening them beneath the silk wrapper.

He rested his other hand ever-so-lightly against the small of her back, riveting her in place with that gentle touch.

His dark gaze traveled her face, from her eyes to her lips, his expression changing…relaxing. Yes. He wanted her. Relief swept over her. “You are a rare flower, Ella. An exquisite rare flower.”

His breath touched her chin. Her heart leaped in response.

She truly wanted him to kiss her. She no longer had a point to prove or an agenda. Ella wanted this man to kiss her. Unfamiliar tears smarted behind her eyelids, so she closed her eyes to hide them.

He raised her face with his palm, and his lips closed over hers in a warm tantalizing greeting.
Hello. So this is what you taste like.

She wrapped her arm behind his neck and urged him closer, into a fuller, more satisfying melding of lips and breath. He smelled good, like crisp linen with a hint of mint and champagne. His lips were firm and warm. Her head felt as though she’d finished a bottle on her own, but she’d only had two glasses of the bubbly liquid. The man himself was intoxicating.

She’d had no idea there were kisses like this. She kissed him because she wanted to, because the act gave her pleasure. The recognition shocked her.

Maybe courtship wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

He drew back a few inches. She opened her eyes and he gazed into them. Was he changing his mind? Would this champagne kiss lead to a night in her bed?

“I’d better leave,” he said.

She’d never quite understood disappointment in this heartfelt
physical
manner. She wasn’t a dreamer. Dreams were out of reach and easily destroyed. Nor was she a romantic, holding hopeless imaginings of love or faithfulness. She knew firsthand the true nature of men. She held no expectations, therefore experienced no disenchantment. His leaving was a mere frustration, she assured herself. She had a plan to endear herself to him, and he had thwarted that with his counterplan for a courtship.

Ella released her hold on his neck and took a backward step on legs that trembled. His hooded gaze took in her hair, her lips, and fell to the base of her throat, where she suspected her pulse beat wildly. She gave him a demure smile.

He would change his mind within a week.

She’d been alone her whole life, so the solitude of her room was nothing new. The most unusual aspect she discovered was upon waking when she drew back the russet damask draperies to greet the morning. She had a clear view of the immense side yard, the roof of the carriage house and the broad expanse of sky—all without bars.

The females who lived there had been told that the iron bars that covered every window at Madame Fairchild’s were for their own protection. Men in a cow town would do just about anything to get to a woman. But more often those barriers had prevented the girls from taking a notion to leave.

Ella studied the neighboring house with its painted gables and glanced at the roofs of the other nearby homes. Yesterday one of the men had mentioned that vast improvements had been made to the streets and buildings along the main thoroughfares in hopes of having a governor chosen from Sweetwater. The locals had expectations of a territorial capitol and eventually statehood. She raised the window to the sound of a horse and buggy clattering on the brick street.

Sights and sounds of freedom.

For the first time, she recognized what marriage to Nathan Lantry had bought her. Freedom to come and go as she pleased, freedom to walk along the street and to shop with her head held high. Freedom to enjoy life without oppression or criticism.

Ella wanted to become the person Nathan believed he’d married. And she would. Now that she had the opportunity, she could blend herself into this community and become his most valuable asset.

She washed quickly, arranged her hair and donned a pastel green day dress. She was thankful that her wardrobe had been designed and created by the talented seamstress Madame Fairchild kept on her staff. The Frenchwoman traveled abroad at least once a year to update her fashion knowledge and buy fabrics and notions.

Without anyone ever saying as much, Ella understood she’d be expected to live up to the caliber of dress and conduct befitting a governor’s wife. She donned a strand of pearls and a jade brooch appropriate for day wear.

The upstairs hall was quiet, but sounds of activity rose from downstairs. In the dining room, she discovered Nathan and the children seated at one end of a massive table.

He stood and held a chair out for her. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.”

The children observed her in silence. “Good morning,” she said. She noticed an extra place setting and wondered who would be joining them.

Mrs. Shippen arrived through a doorway with a pitcher of milk she poured into the children’s glasses. She seated herself in front of the other place setting.

Footsteps sounded and a plump woman entered from the kitchen, carrying a steaming platter of sliced ham and a plate of fried eggs. She handed the platter to Nathan and set the plate within his reach.

“Ella, this is Charlotte Miller.” He served Christopher and himself and passed both dishes to Ella. “Charlotte, my new wife.”

“How do, Mizz Lantry,” the woman said with a friendly smile.

“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Miller.”

“Just Charlotte,” the woman said.

Ella took servings from each plate and passed the dishes to Mrs. Shippen, who served the other two children and proceeded to cut their ham into bite-size pieces.

“Charlotte’s a fine cook,” Nathan assured her. “She’s here every morning, and each night. After breakfast on Sunday, she leaves a noon meal in the oven.”

Robby slumped in his chair and pouted.

“What’s the matter, Robby?” his father asked.

“I want applesauce.”

Nathan glanced at the cook. “Do we have applesauce?”

The woman nodded.

Ella folded her hands in her lap and didn’t lift her gaze to watch the exchange. She’d never sat at a table with a family in her life. If Nathan was mustering up a load of steam to reprimand the child, she didn’t want to be a witness. In her experience children ate what was placed in front of them without options or complaints.

Nathan stood, resting his napkin on his seat. “I’ll be right back.”

Ella’s heart rate increased a measure in her discomfort.

Robby remained slumped on the chair, swinging his feet under the table.

Mrs. Shippen unconcernedly served herself eggs and picked up her fork.

Nathan returned and Robby sat up straight with a bright smile. “You will eat an egg, too,” Nathan told him, spooning thick applesauce onto his plate.

Nodding happily, the boy picked up his spoon and ate.

Nathan returned to his seat and glanced at Ella’s plate. “Something wrong with the food?”

“Not at all.” Ella relaxed and smeared a spoonful of preserves on a slice of toast.

“No jam at Miss Haversham’s, either?” he asked.

“No jam,” she replied. “Dry toast and tea.”

“Doesn’t sound like a meal for growing children.”

She took her first bite to discover a pleasant burst of sweet raspberry flavor. Nothing about her life had been ordinary, but she had no idea what ordinary involved. “Is this a normal breakfast for you?” she asked. “Or is this a special occasion?”

“Your first day with us is a special occasion, but this is a typical breakfast. When Charlotte needs a day off, we make the best of it. Mrs. Shippen isn’t a bad cook.”

Virginia Shippen spoke up for the first time, directing her remark to Ella. “The mister can stir up a fine kettle of cooked oats.”

“Mrs. Shippen has asked for a day off each week now that you’re here,” Nathan said.

“May I watch after the children that day?” Ella asked.

Nathan smiled. “I hoped you would.”

“I’m happy to do all I can,” she said. “And I’ll help clean up after breakfast,” Ella offered.

“I doubt you’ll have time today,” Mrs. Shippen told her.

“Why not?”

“You’ve forgotten,” Nathan said. “It’s Sunday. Mrs. Shippen’s son comes to get her for the day, and Charlotte will clean up. We head out for church in—” he withdrew his pocket watch and flipped open the cover “—about twenty-five minutes.”

“Yes, of course.” Ella absorbed that piece of information with a calm smile pasted on her face. Of course it was Sunday, and everyone was up early and dressed for church. She glanced at Grace in her green plaid dress and the boys in white shirts and miniature ties. “Am I dressed appropriately?”