Her Wyoming Man (7 page)

Corrals and outbuildings littered the land, and a small one-story house sat near a stand of trees. To the west of the house, Celeste turned from a clothesline where she’d been hanging what looked like curtains. She spotted Ella climbing down and hurried to greet her. “Gab—” she began, and then caught herself. “Ella. What a wonderful surprise!”

She wore a plain dress and a white apron. She’d braided her black hair and it hung down her back in a thick plait. Her simple attire and this humble scene were unfamiliar to Ella, but Celeste’s eyes sparkled and her face was alight with pleasure.

“I wanted to see you,” Ella said and extended the bouquet of wildflowers before accepting the brief hug the young woman lavished upon her.

“Mr. Lantry asked me to wait for ya,” the driver said. “I’ll water the horse and find ’im some grass.”

“Thank you,” Ella replied.

Celeste took her arm and led her toward the house. “Come in and I’ll make tea. I made a cake, and I want you to try it.”

The kitchen was small, but adequate, with two long windows that opened onto the side yard, where a garden flourished. Celeste stood the flowers in a glass bottle she filled with water. “Paul said these are shooting stars,” she told Ella, pointing to the lavender blooms. “I don’t know what the pink or white ones are.”

She poked around in the stove and added a few sticks to get the logs burning hot, then poured water from a pail into a kettle and set it on a burner. “Isn’t this just a stitch, me making tea and cakes? Oh, hang your hat up over there.”

Ella hung her hat and shawl on a peg beside the door, then took a seat.

Celeste uncovered a lopsided cake and cut a slice. “I make all the meals for Paul and me. He hasn’t complained yet.” She gave a half laugh. “He’s had reason, though, believe me. I didn’t know a sack of flour from a coffee bean until this week. But he’s so patient. And he explains things without getting upset. He hasn’t so much as lifted his voice, let alone a fist.”

The news gave Ella a sense of relief. She tasted the cake and found it a little dry, but not terrible.

“Your tea will wash it down,” Celeste told her, as though guessing her thoughts.

“I peeled potatoes,” Ella told her.

“I never knew potatoes grew like that, did you?” Celeste asked. “Have you seen a turnip yet?”

Ella shook her head.

“And eggs! Goodness, I have to wrestle them away from the chickens!” The kettle boiled and she poured water over tea in a chipped pot, and then sat near Ella at the table. “But it’s all worth it—the cooking and sweeping the floor every day and pulling weeds from the garden. He treats me like I’m—like I’m
special.
” Though they were alone, she lowered her voice near a whisper. “He’s gentle in the bed department—asks my permission, then questions if I like every little thing. He goes at it a couple of times a night, and Ella, he never had a woman before me, can you believe it? But he’s just so sweet about it, and he holds me afterward.”

She paused in her rush to tell Ella everything and got tears in her eyes.

Ella’s own eyes smarted, and she swallowed hard to compose her emotions.

“I never knew there was a man like him,” Celeste said, her voice thick with tears. “All I ever knew were cowhands in a hurry to get back to their card games and drunks and cheating husbands and those that wanted something their wives wouldn’t do for them.”

Ella nodded her understanding. She’d never known, either—never imagined there were kind and courteous men, men who loved their children, men who put a woman’s needs above their own.

Celeste poured hot tea into two cups and set one before Ella. “Is Mr. Lantry tender like that?”

Ella spooned sugar into her cup and stirred. “He’s patient with his children, and has been nothing but polite and considerate.”

“And he’s a gentleman in the bedroom, too?”

Ella gave a hesitant shrug and let her gaze touch on everything on the table before lifting it to the other woman’s face.

Celeste raised her eyebrows and her eyes widened. “You
haven’t?”

Chapter Nine

“I
t’s puzzling, I know,” Ella said with a shake of her head. “He wants to have a courtship first.”

“You’d better move past that right quick,” Celeste told her with obvious concern. “Paul told me our marriage was consummated and legal after that first time. I had to ask him to explain, because I had no idea, but it seems there’s still a chance to call the whole thing off if the husband and wife haven’t put the final seal on things.”

Ella stared at her. “Surely he’s not holding out in case he changes his mind about me.”

“Maybe he has his reasons.” Celeste sipped her tea.

Ella picked up her cup. Nathan hadn’t given her any indication that their marriage might not work out. Granted she wasn’t familiar with household chores or cooking or…well, with anything for that matter; but she’d shown him she was willing to learn and do her part. “A piano is being delivered soon,” she said. “When it arrives, I’ll teach the children to read music and play.”

“How are you getting on with the children?”

“Quite well. His daughter doesn’t speak.” She went on to share about the little ones. Some time later Paul arrived, greeted Ella warmly, and Celeste prepared him sandwiches and poured him a glass of buttermilk.

He ate his meal, then stood and thanked Celeste.

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a smile Ella had never seen before. The couple exchanged a private look.

Ella had the impression that if she hadn’t been there, Paul would have kissed his wife…or perhaps more.

“Pleasure to see you, ma’am,” he told Ella with a nod, then plucked his hat from a hook and exited the house.

Ella glanced at Celeste, surprised by the expression on her face as she watched him leave, and relieved that so far this match had truly been a good one.

They talked about their church experience and Celeste asked about the house and the staff. She made them each a sandwich, and after another cup of tea, Ella thanked her and headed for home.

On the way back, Ella thought about what she’d heard and seen. She asked Pete to stop again, so she could gather more of the shooting stars to take home. The man cheerfully dropped her off at the house, put the buggy in the carriage house and returned the horse to the livery.

Ella changed clothing and stewed about a marriage consummation while she helped Charlotte get out plates and prepare the evening meal. The wildflowers held a prominent position in the center of the table. She’d never had the impression that Nathan was holding back because of doubts about her or that their union might not work out. He’d seemed genuinely concerned that it was her tender sensibilities he was protecting.

Thinking that there was the slightest risk their marriage might not yet be legal gave her more cause to be concerned for her security. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to stay.

Lightning flashed beyond the windows of Nathan’s study that evening. He rose and tugged the drapes closed.

“Is there a storm?” Christopher asked.

“It’s just a spring rain,” Nathan replied.

Grace’s gaze traveled to the closed drapery and back to Nathan. She got up and darted to the window, where she parted the panels and stared out into the night.

“Just rain,” Nathan told her. He glanced at Ella. “We received an invitation. The Crandalls are holding a Spring Gala next Saturday.”

“What exactly is a Spring Gala?” Ella asked.

“An excuse to have a get-together with bouquets of flowers everywhere.” He grinned. “And an opportunity for those in the community who haven’t yet met you to do so.”

Grace returned from the window and leaned into Nathan’s lap, attempting to climb. He sat straighter and helped her up, where she made herself comfortable.

“It’s nearly bedtime, buttercup,” he told her.

She pointed to the bookshelves.

“What is it you want?” Ella asked, hoping for a reply.

Grace pointed again.

“I wish we knew what she wanted,” Ella said to Nathan.

The little girl jumped down from his lap, ran to the bookcase and stood on tiptoe to reach the volume she wanted. The children’s books were within easy reach on the lower shelves. She brought her selection back to Nathan and backed up so he’d lift her.

Ella had to admit the little girl got her point across without speaking.

Nathan opened the book and read the story. Ella was listening, watching Nathan’s expressions and Grace’s rapt face when she noticed the touch on her forearm. She glanced at Robby.

“Up?” he asked.

Surprised, she lifted him onto her lap and settled him so he could watch his father read. “I see, too!” he interrupted.

Nathan patted the divan beside him. Ella got up, carrying Robby, and moved to sit beside him so Robby could see the pictures. Her shoulder fit right below Nathan’s, their upper arms molded together.

The mantel clock chimed a melodious sound, drawing her attention to the time. Her mind carried her back to evenings in Dodge, and the contrast in what she was doing now compared to what she’d have been doing had she stayed. What she’d done all of those evenings at Madame Fairchild’s.

Mondays and Fridays had been Ansel’s of course, but on Thursdays, one of the girls had a client who paid to have her
watch.
Ella hadn’t known anything different. Those experiences had been normal—and until now she hadn’t questioned normal.

She had often played the piano for the gathering, pretending not to notice any interaction between the girls and their gentlemen before they headed upstairs.

Hearing Celeste talk about Paul today, learning more about Nathan and seeing how lovingly these youngsters were treated—all of it pointed out just how sordid her past had been. Every day showed her more reasons to be grateful she was no longer in Kansas. And more reason to make certain she never returned to a life like that.

Robby was a lapful, but she appreciated his weight and his little boy wiggles and laughs. He leaned forward to point to a drawing on the pages and then turned to Ella with a question in his eyes.

“It’s a frog,” she told him.

“Wa-a-a-a-a-a-pft!” he said with his lips pursed and his chin tucked down, imitating a croak.

She laughed, and he burst into giggles.

Ella’s eyes burned with unshed tears at the joy she experienced knowing the three young Lantrys were loved and that they had a bright future ahead of them. Nathan would stop at nothing to protect them and see to their education and happiness. These were her first glimpses of the advantages and innocence she had missed out on. She’d never truly understood the depth of her childhood hardship until now.

That recognition dredged up a deep sadness and a longing for something that could never be replaced.

“Time to prepare for bed,” Nathan said, interrupting her thoughts.

Robby jumped down and ran for the hall. Christopher picked up his toys before following. Grace wrapped her arms around Nathan’s neck and waited for him to stand and carry her.

“Are all daughters daddy’s girls?” Nathan asked with a grin.

She replied with only a smile. She knew nothing of daddies.

Once the children were washed and changed and tucked into their beds, the two adults returned to his study and Nathan offered her a glass of sherry. “Did you have a pleasant visit today?”

“Indeed. Celeste is doing well,” she told him. “She seems quite content with Mr. Adams.”

“News is Tom Bradbury is seeing your friend, Miss Kellie. Tom works at the bank and has a place on the street just east of here.”

This Bradbury fellow must be well-to-do then. “Another admirable friend of yours?”

He nodded. “A fine upstanding citizen, Tom is.”

It didn’t surprise her that Lena had set her sights on a man who was probably the second wealthiest in town.

Ella carried her glass to the window and pulled a drape panel aside to look out at the night. Drops of rain glistened on the windowpanes.

“Are you lonely here?”

His voice so near surprised her. She looked over her shoulder to find him disturbingly close, casually holding his glass, his gaze on the night. “No. Of course not.”

“Will you tell me—if you ever feel lonely?”

“I doubt I will have occasion. The house is filled with activity in the evening. During the day Grace and Robby are good company.”

“Grace doesn’t talk,” he remarked.

“That will change,” she assured him.

“But you would tell me?” he insisted. “A person can be lonely in a sea of people and activity.”

His concern touched her. “Yes, I would tell you. Because you have asked me.” She turned to face him, letting the curtain fall back. “Are
you
lonely?”

He glanced at the liquid in his glass. “I didn’t realize it, but I was…before you came.”

“And now?”

He raised his head. “Now I have you.”

“You barely know me.”

He tilted his head. “I know enough. You’re smart. And sensitive. And I’ve never seen anyone who appreciates learning new things or who gives her whole heart to each day the way you do. Sometimes I recognize that you’re as innocent as one of the children, and the next moment your eyes or something you say reflects the pain of a person who has lived a long difficult life. You’re a puzzle.”

“I’m not complicated,” she denied with a shake of her head.

“But you’re a mystery.”

She sipped her sherry. “I’m not attempting to be mysterious.”

A clap of thunder startled her, and she took a step away from the window, toward him.

“Are you afraid of storms?” he asked.

The thunder had merely surprised her, but immediately, she remembered Celeste’s words about making their marriage legal. “Well…honestly—” she gazed up at him “—I’m embarrassed to admit that lightning and thunder frighten me.” She took another step closer to Nathan.

He took her glass and set both on a nearby table before turning back to enfold her in his arms. “There’s nothing to fear. You’re safe here.”

Ella rested her cheek against the front of his shirt. He’d removed his jacket after dinner, so when she reached for his upper arm, only the soft fabric of his linen shirt separated her from solid muscle and warm skin. She closed her eyes and experienced the masculine scents of starch and shaving soap that were uniquely his.

She wasn’t afraid of storms; never had been. Fear didn’t come from what went on in the heavens; it came from what went on behind closed doors. The thought of outliving her usefulness and beauty and ending up like her mother was what terrified her. That’s why she was here. Her keen sense of self-preservation precluded all other fears.

The hand he’d placed at the small of her back moved in reassuring circles. He raised his other to play with the hair at her nape, sending a shiver down her spine.

Lifting her head from its resting place, she studied him. His eyes were dark, but not brown or black. They were a deep hazel, with flecks of green and fringed by dark lashes. He had kind eyes that softened his otherwise stern features and well-defined lips.

“You’re safe here,” he said.

“Yes, I believe I am,” she answered. As long as he never learned the truth about her.

Ella stroked his hard biceps, then his shoulder through the crisp fabric, letting her fingertips trail down the front of his shirt.

Beneath her touch, his chest muscles tensed. He lowered his eyelids briefly, and when he opened his eyes again, his hooded gaze riveted on her mouth.

“You’re welcome to kiss me,” she offered, then added, “Husband.”

Desire flashed in his eyes, but with the restraint of a saint, he waited Ella had seen her opportunity, and not to be dissuaded by his puzzling hesitation, she said more boldly, “Kiss me, Nathan.”

He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, and she welcomed the contact in yet another surprising discovery. She liked kissing him. A lot. He tasted hot and sweet, and the sheer pleasure stole her breath. Ella closed her eyes and gave herself over to the magical experience, reaching up to cradle his jaw.

At her touch against his face, he angled his head for a deeper, more thorough kiss, and she would have whimpered if she’d had the strength or the breath. Her knees quivered, and she clung to him.

Nathan supported Ella’s weight easily, welcomed it in fact. Everything about her was delicate and soft and…and unbelievably arousing. She was the most generous woman he’d ever known, relentlessly giving of herself and her time. He strove only to hold himself in reserve, while she gave selflessly. The contrast shamed him. He shouldn’t be taking advantage of her this way, but he couldn’t resist.

He nipped at her generous bottom lip, traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, and she parted them in enthusiastic welcome. To his surprise and pleasure, she returned the bold kiss, taking the encounter to a hotter, more intense level. His desire for her hadn’t needed fuel to burn at this white-hot fever.

It took a few seconds to realize the thundering wasn’t in his head or his body, but rather the force of the storm gaining intensity outside the windows.

Ella pulled back enough to whisper, “May I stay with you tonight?”

“Ella—” he began.

“I’ll feel safe with you,” she interrupted.

How could he deny her anything? “If you wish,” he replied.

Resting her palm on his chest, she studied him. “You’ll wait outside my door while I change?”

“I’ll wait,” he promised.

She stood near while he banked the fire and turned out the lamps, then he took her hand and led her up the stairs.

“I’ll only be a moment,” she assured him. “I’ll leave the door ajar.” He waited in the hall, the rustle of her clothing setting his skin on fire.

She returned in a luminous white nightdress, and he took her hand so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her through the fabric. She’d be naked underneath, and there wasn’t enough of the silky covering to hide or protect her.

He opened the door to his room, and she entered ahead of him in the darkness. “You take the bed,” he offered.

He could recline in the overstuffed chair while she slept.

“I can’t take your bed if you’re not going to sleep,” she said. “You need your rest for work tomorrow.” She took a step toward the door. “I’ll just go to my own room.”