His Forbidden Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch (Spicy Version) Book 7) (2 page)

Solomon’s expression crumpled into extreme sympathy. “Oh, Honoria, I’m so sorry.”

He could have left her right there, but instead he took her hand and led her over to the side of the road, to a bench that sat out in front of Charlie and Olivia Garrett’s house. He helped her to sit, then sat beside her. Out of the corner of her eyes, Honoria spotted several people looking on curiously, including Mr. Gunn on the hotel’s porch. She didn’t mind his observation, but she wished everyone else would disappear. She wished everyone in the world but her and Solomon would disappear.

“What precisely did Dr. Abernathy say?” Solomon asked in a solid, businesslike voice.

Honoria wrung her handkerchief, used it to dabbed her eyes, and gathered her thoughts. Solomon was sitting too close to her, but at that moment she truly didn’t care.

“I…I’ve had this cough for quite some time,” she began in a weak and weary voice. “Bonnie—you know, Bonnie Horner, who’s walking out with my father—has been urging me to see a doctor.”

“Bonnie is a wise woman.” Solomon nodded.

Honoria managed a small smile for praise of the woman who—in spite of having her father for a beau—was vilified more often than not in the Bonneville house.

Her smile faded fast. “I went to see Dr. Meyers first thing this morning. He examined me. He even ran a test with chemicals that he explained were new and helped diagnose disease.” Solomon made an impressed sound. “But he was called away by an army officer. Dr. Abernathy takes over his cases when Dr. Meyers is away, so I left and went about my business until this afternoon.” She sniffled as recent, bad memories assailed her. “I went to Dr. Abernathy for the results just now, and he told me.” She squeezed her eye shut, and more tears streamed down her face.

“Could Dr. Abernathy have been wrong?” Solomon asked.

Honoria shook her head. “He had Dr. Meyers’s file. I saw Dr. Meyers writing in that file while he was examining me.”

Solomon’s shoulder sagged. “I’m so sorry.” He rubbed Honoria’s back, sliding his arm around her and letting her rest her head on his shoulder from the side.

“My life has been such a waste,” she blurted before she could stop herself. Her tears continued to spill.

“Don’t say that.” Solomon’s voice was so tender that it only made her weep harder.

“But it’s true. I’ve let myself be pushed around and bullied by my sisters since Mama died. I’ve lived a half-life. And there were so many things I wanted to do.”

“What did you want to do?” He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead.

Honoria sighed, closing her eyes. “I wanted to make something of myself. I wanted to do something with my skills, help people. I…I wanted to fall in love, marry, and have children.” Her voice faded to a wisp as she mourned all of the children she’d never have now.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, covering her hands with one of his large ones.

Some people would have been horrified at the contrast of his dark skin with her pale skin, but she didn’t mind. She saw his differences as something beautiful. He was so, so different from the stilted, pitiful life she’d led. In fact, Solomon represented everything she’d longed for but would never have now—newness, enterprise, carving paths through life in ways that never would have been permitted little more than a decade ago. Solomon was the strength and bravery her mother had wished for her to have.

“Are you afraid of dying?” he asked in a hushed voice after they’d been silent for a while.

Honoria held still as she thought, then shook her head. “I’m afraid of what these last few months of my life will be like,” she confessed. She was suddenly filled with the certainty that she could say anything to Solomon, anything at all.

“Your family.” He sighed, proving that he understood. He squeezed her hands.

“I know this is cruel to say, but I don’t think they’ll care,” she admitted, barely over a whisper. “Vivian and Melinda will be put out because they’re losing their drudge.”

He didn’t contradict her. He didn’t censure her. He didn’t try to convince her that she was wrong, that they would care. He just let her speak, and he listened.

“Papa will be embarrassed that someone of his stock could be so weak. He’ll…he’ll say I take after my mother, that it’s her fault. I can’t stand it when he speaks badly of her.” She hadn’t realized how true that was until the words were out of her mouth. The very idea filled her with anger.

“I’ve always figured that you took after your mother.” Solomon spoke calmly, a balm to Honoria’s soul. “You certainly aren’t like the rest of them.” He paused, then said, “I wish I could have met her.”

Honoria lifted her head from his shoulder and met his eyes. There was nothing but genuine compassion in their dark depths. “I wish you could have met her too.”

Something wild and dangerous and spoken in her mother’s voice tickled at the back of her mind. How wonderful it would have been if Honoria had been granted time to get to know Solomon better? Yes, he was a different race from her, but Wendy had married Travis, in spite of the differences in their races. Before that, Graham Tremaine had married Estelle. What was impossible in other places was more than possible in Haskell. If only there had been time. Her life would have ended so differently if she had found out the truth as Solomon’s wife instead of the lonely, bullied, neglected daughter of—

Her thoughts stopped, and she gasped as the idea grabbed hold of her. Could she? She had so very little time left, but maybe…maybe it was enough.

“What?” Solomon asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

Suddenly anxious, she inched away from him. He kept hold of her hands, though. That gesture had her heart beating faster. Could she do this? Could she really entertain such a wild idea?

She angled her body toward him so that she could face him more directly. “You asked me if I was afraid to die.”

“I did.” He nodded, seriousness filling his features.

“And I told you I was more afraid to live the way I have been living for my last days.” He nodded, encouraging her to go on. “I…I had so many hopes and dreams, and they’re all dashed now. But maybe…” She began to shake. There was no way she was brave enough or bold enough to do this.

But the alternative was too horrible to think about. She drew in a long breath, squared her shoulders, and locked eyes with Solomon.

“Would you…would you be willing to marry me?” Her head spun as the words shot out, and she thought she might pass out.

“Marry you?” Solomon stared at her in wonder.

“I can’t bear to waste away, locked in a room in my father’s house for the last few days of my life,” she rushed on while she still had courage. She clutched both of Solomon’s hands with hers. “I want to have just a few months to live the life that I could have had. I…I want a tiny shred of happiness before I die.”

He watched her, unblinking. At last, he took a breath and said, “It will be hard. Folks will
not
like to see a white woman marry a black man.”

Honoria shook her head, blood racing through her veins with newfound excitement. “It won’t matter,” she insisted. “It won’t be a long marriage anyhow. I’ll…I’ll be dead before they can work up too much of a fuss.” She lowered her eyes as a twist of grief tied her stomach in knots. “You won’t be burdened with me for long.”

“No.” He slipped a hand under her chin and raised her face until she met his eyes again. “Honoria, you could
never
be a burden to me.”

She swallowed, a different kind of tears stinging at her eyes.

“I’m only afraid that I’ll cause more trouble for you than you deserve,” he went on.

“How could you?” she choked. “My life is already far more troubled than you could dare to dream. I want to end it with a smile, knowing that at least someone cared for me.”

His expression filled with something so close to heartache that it took Honoria’s breath away. Her entire existence and her one, tiny chance for happiness boiled down to whatever answer he would give her. She’d never wanted anything so badly in her life.

And yet, all he did was stare at her, watch her with such intensity that she could practically see the debate going on inside of him.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Solomon nodded.

Honoria let out a breath and nearly crumpled as the tension she’d been holding dispersed.

“But you have to let me ask you,” he said, closing his hands around hers.

“Oh?” Quivers of excitement ran through her.

“It’s only right if I ask you,” he went on. Purpose filled his countenance. “Could you meet me back here tomorrow, perhaps?”

“I…” It would be a challenge to get away from the ranch with Vivian’s wedding only days away. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get here.”

Solomon nodded, breaking into a smile. “I want to propose to you properly, Honoria. Even…even if our union will be a short one.”

“Either way, you’ll make me the happiest woman alive.” Her voice cracked on that final word. A tiny part of her broke free from the grief that had all but consumed her. That tiny part didn’t want to die quietly. It didn’t want to die at all. But she would accept what fate had in store for her as long as she could have a few, short days of happiness as Solomon’s wife.

S
olomon was not a drinking man
, but a fortifying whiskey at Sam Standish’s saloon, The Silver Dollar, seemed in order, considering what he was about to do. He sat at the quiet end of the bar, rolling the small shot glass Sam had poured for him ten minutes ago between his fingers as he stared into nothing. Or rather, as he stared into the bittersweet decision that had faced him all day.

He’d made a promise. A promise to be a husband. A promise to be a widower. That last bit hurt more than he ever would have expected it to. Because if anyone in Haskell, Wyoming—in the entire nation, the entire world—could have tempted him to give up his determined bachelorhood, it would have been Honoria Bonneville.

He sighed and set his half-full glass on the bar-top. Sam raised a brow at him from the other side of the counter, where he’d been keeping a close eye on him, but Solomon shook his head.

Honoria Bonneville. The mere thought of her name filled him with a protective pride that he couldn’t account for. There had been long, lonely nights when he would close his eyes and the vision of her sweet face, her wise and weary blue eyes, her honey-gold hair, and the troubled blush on her porcelain cheeks would keep him awake. Too many times he’d stood by while her sisters mistreated her or her father dismissed her. Each opportunity he’d had to come to her aid in the past few years had left him aching to do more for her, to be more for her. But he knew too well who he was and who she was. He knew it would be impossible at best, devastating at worst, for him to make the advances he’d wanted to make.

Until now.

Until she made the first move.

“You look like a man with a terrible weight on his shoulders.” The words and the slap on the back that came with them were delivered by none other than Howard Haskell. Howard wore his usual jovial grin and carried himself as though he owned not just most of Haskell, but the world with it. Theophilus Gunn stood just behind Howard, studying Solomon with concerned curiosity, arms crossed, stroking his chin.

There never had been any point in hiding things from Howard or Gunn. If not for Howard, Solomon would probably still be a frustrated, resentful clerk struggling to prove himself to a world that didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Not the weight of the world,” he corrected, hooking his foot around the rung of the bar stool next to him and pulling it out for Howard to sit. Gunn sat as well. “The weight of a woman.”

Both Howard and Gunn hummed with understanding and sympathy.

“Have you finally set your sights on one of the fine ladies of our good town?” Howard puffed his chest and smiled as though it was the most fabulous idea he’d heard all day.

“Could I hazard a guess at the lady in question?” Gunn added.

Solomon sent them both a weary smile that said he knew that they knew the only woman he could possibly be talking about. At the same time, he questioned how much of Honoria’s troubles were his to share with others.

He waited until Howard and Gunn were bristling with impatient curiosity, then sighed and answered, “Honoria Bonneville asked me to marry her.”

Both Howard and Gunn sat straighter and gaped at him. Sam, who was on his way over—presumably to see if Howard and Gunn were thirsty—caught the statement as well, and his jaw dropped. “Well, hell, Solomon,” he said. “If I’d known that was what you’ve been sitting here brooding about for the past half hour, I would have given you a double.”

Solomon managed a short laugh for his friend. “Not sure it would help. Something tells me I need to keep a clear head for this one.”

“What precisely did she say?” Gunn asked. “I mean, Honoria Bonneville is a lovely woman, but she’s the last person I’d expect to make such a bold declaration.”

Solomon winced and rubbed a long-fingered hand over his face. “She had good reason to approach me the way she did.” That was as far as he would explain her business.

“Well…I…that is…” Howard was rarely at a loss for words, but he fumbled his way through his reply before giving up and shrugging. “Will wonders never cease?”

“Probably not,” Solomon answered.

The four men continued at a loss for words before Sam said, “Well, you’ve had a soft spot for Honoria for a while now, haven’t you?”

Solomon nodded in affirmation and picked up his whiskey glass. He still didn’t drink, though. “I’ve never admired any woman the way I admire Honoria,” he admitted. “She is like a beacon of light in the midst of the dark ocean of the Bonneville family. She holds her head up high, even as the rest of them try to tear her down. She could have turned against them or hurled accusations that would make even their supporters think twice, I’m sure, but she has maintained her dignity and loyalty.”

“Even when she shouldn’t have,” Gunn added.

Solomon acknowledged the comment with a sigh.

“I tell you, I don’t know how a wolf like Bonneville ended up with a lamb like Honoria,” Sam said, shaking his head and pouring three more shots of whiskey, though no one had asked for them.

“Honoria takes after her mother,” Howard informed him with a sage nod, picking up the glass Sam slid across the bar to him. “Ariana Bonneville was a woman among women. It’s a bitter shame that she died so young.”

Gunn hummed as if he agreed. Once again, Solomon wished he’d met Honoria’s mother.

“So what made Honoria up and ask you to marry her out of the blue like that?” Sam asked, then threw back his whiskey.

Solomon rolled his glass in his hand before answering, “She’s desperate to be rescued.” That wouldn’t give too much away. It also didn’t answer Sam’s question or the curiosity in the others’ eyes. He side-stepped whatever further questions they would ask by saying, “To tell you the truth, I’ve considered rescuing her—or courting her, at least—many times before this.”

“I’ve always wondered why you didn’t,” Howard said, sipping his whiskey.

Solomon fixed him with a frank stare. “I was born into slavery, Howard. True, I was given my freedom before the war, but the color of my skin makes me a marked man in the eyes of the majority of people in this country, this world. Rex Bonneville resents me for my success, detests me for what he considers my ‘uppityness.’ I’ve always held back because of the trouble I know I would cause for Honoria. She deserves better than to constantly be the subject of derision and disgust.”

Howard humphed in disagreement. “She’s already the subject of derision and disgust by her own family, if you ask me.”

“And in her current situation, she has no protector to shield her from it,” Gunn added.

A prick of guilt struck Solomon at the thought. “So you think I should have asked her to walk out with me sooner?”

As quick as Howard and Gunn had been to reassure him seconds before, they hesitated now. It was Sam who stepped in and said, “I take it since she asked you, you said yes?”

Howard and Gunn glanced from Sam to Solomon as though neither of them had thought to ask the obvious.

Solomon nodded and took a sip of his whiskey at last. It burned going down the same way this entire situation did. “I told her that I wanted to propose to her properly.”

His friends nodded in consideration. “Seems like the right thing to do,” Howard said.

“I’m on my way to do it now,” Solomon added.

Their brows went up and their eyes widened.

“Don’t tell me you’re here because you’ve got cold feet,” Sam said. “She asked you. The way I figure, the time for cold feet is long past.”

Solomon shook his head and checked his pocket watch. “I’ve got another fifteen minutes until the time we said we’d meet.”

“Ah.” Howard put on a solemn countenance. “Engagement by arrangement.”

Solomon barely had time to smirk at the comment before Gunn asked, “What would lead Honoria to ask you to marry her?” with a puzzled frown.

There was no way to continue to evade the question, so Solomon simply said, “It’s not my secret to share.”

The others hummed and nodded as if they understood. “Must be something big,” Sam figured. A new patron had just come into the bar, so he was forced to move away from the conversation.

“Well.” Howard slapped the bar when the silence had gone on too long. “I wish you the greatest marital felicity for many, many years to come.”

It took everything Solomon had not to wince at the statement. Many years was far more than he could hope for. What would his friends say if they knew he was walking into a situation that was guaranteed to break his heart?

“When’s the wedding?” Howard asked on. “I’d be honored to stand up with you, if you’d allow me.”

“Thanks, Howard.” Solomon smiled and reached out to shake Howard’s hand. “We haven’t set a date yet, but it’ll be a matter of days.”

Gunn’s thoughtful frown deepened. “She asks you, and then the marriage takes place within days?” His gaze came out of its distant look and focused on Solomon. “She’s not
in trouble
, is she?”

“Absolutely not,” Solomon answered without hesitation. Honoria wasn’t that kind of girl. In fact, it begged the question of whether Honoria wanted to marry him to take shelter in his house for her final days or whether she hoped to take comfort in his bed. The thought delighted and unnerved him.

“Hmm.” Gunn rubbed his chin. Solomon could practically see the wheels turning in Gunn’s brain, and when Gunn’s brain started working on a problem, the whole world was best to be on high alert. It would be much easier to confess the truth to the man, but again, it wasn’t Solomon’s secret to tell.

He rapped the bar-top with his knuckles, then slipped off his stool. “I need to be on my way,” he told his friends.

“Best of luck.” Howard slapped him on the back. “It’s an odd situation, but I’m here to help you in any way.”

“As am I,” Gunn promised.

Solomon left the saloon feeling that he was lucky to have such remarkable friends. Because no matter how supportive they were, he knew the truth of things. A black man simply did not marry a sweet, blond-haired, blue-eyed daughter of a wealthy rancher without dire consequences. But for Honoria, he was willing to face those consequences and shelter her from them.

* * *

H
onoria paced back
and forth in front of the spreading maple tree at the end of Elizabeth Street, just outside of the Haskell town limits, where she and Solomon had agreed to meet that evening. It had taken a supreme effort of will to pen the note setting the time and place for their meeting that morning and to entrust it to the Bonneville family’s maid, Maria, to deliver. She’d arrived at the tree early and kept to the shadows as the sun stretched toward the mountains on the western horizon, but every unexpected sound and every passing wagon made her jump out of her skin. Skin that her father would flay off of her if he caught her doing what she was about to do.

She couldn’t believe what she was about to do. Up until that moment in Dr. Abernathy’s office the day before, she had only been bold enough to break free from the chains of family obligation in her dreams. Even now, a huge part of her itched to turn and run, to accept her fate and face death meekly. Was it really worth the risk to steal so little time?

“Honoria?”

She jumped at the sound of Solomon’s voice and whipped around to face him. Her heart thundered in her chest and she held her breath as she watched him stride nearer. The rays of the sunset made his chocolate skin as rich and warm as mahogany. His serious expression was full of strength and filled her with confidence. Yes, yes, this was worth every ounce of risk.

“Solomon,” she answered him with a tremor in her voice. She couldn’t help but smile as he slowed and studied her in his last few steps into the shade of the maple tree.

“You look lovely tonight.”

His compliment brought a hot blush to Honoria’s cheeks. She touched a hand to her hair. On a wild whim, she’d worn it down. She’d put on one of her favorite summer dresses as well. This was the only proposal she was ever going to get, she’d dreamed of it several times, asleep and awake, in the midst of the tragedy of her life, and she was going to make it as perfect as she could.

“You look very handsome yourself.” She returned the compliment with lowered eyes, her hands trembling.

Solomon glanced down at his fine suit, complete with brocade vest, in spite of the summer heat. “I figured it was best to do this properly,” he answered, his thought process so like her own that it left her breathless.

And then they stood there, silent and awkward, merely smiling at each other, until they both broke into bashful laughter. Honoria wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Solomon laugh before, and the sight made her heart ache. He was such a handsome man, and laughing like that made him all the more appealing. It would be so, so hard to leave him when the consumption finally took her, but until them, it would be like a glimpse into heaven to spend the rest of her days with him.

At last, he cleared his throat and straightened, tugging at the hem of his jacket. “Miss Honoria,” he began.

“Yes?” Her heart fluttered.

It nearly stopped all together when Solomon dropped to one knee. She nearly begged him to get up to spare dirtying his tailored trousers, but by that point, she was beyond speech. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small, velvet box.