Marry Me (10 page)

“Emily, darling, when has distraction ever saved you? Truly, I don’t know what got into you, this wild aberration of hieing off to the far reaches of the country, but enough is enough, don’t you think? I won’t even say I told you so, because, of course, you didn’t think to
ask
me my opinion and so I did not have the opportunity to offer it. Let’s just go back to Philadelphia where we belong. Norine has agreed to let us stay at Goodale House for another few months until we can settle what to do
together
. We can probably even get you enrolled for the fall term.”

“And how are we paying for that fall term?”

Kate blinked at her. Emily had never questioned her about such things in the past. Perhaps if she had done so before, Emily reflected, things never would have gotten into such a tangle. But she’d always deferred to Kate’s competent authority, never wanted to appear ungrateful for all her sisters had done for her.

“Now, don’t you worry about that. You just leave the details up to me. Haven’t we always managed just fine?”

Emily opened her mouth to protest, then shut it just as fast. What was she going to do? Accuse Kate of selling herself for Emily’s future? She couldn’t say that. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“And when have you ever known me to forget something?”

“My husband. I don’t think he’s going to want me to go running back home, Kate.
Not
,” she added hastily, “that I would want to, so don’t jump on that.”

“Oh. Him,” Kate said with easy dismissal, as if discussing a temporary houseman rather than a spouse.

“Well now,” drawled a low voice behind them, “is somebody talkin’ about me?”

“J
ake,” Emily breathed in relief and trepidation, and turned.

And then she stared. She couldn’t help it.

Heavens. Oh heavens.

“Jake?” she asked, uncertain.

“I apologize for not being here when you got home.” There was an awkward beat while her tongue and her brain scrambled to catch up with her eyes. And then he bent down and brushed a kiss over her temple.

The room whirled. Unthinkingly she reached up to the spot he’d kissed, sure it had to be as hot to the touch as it felt.

“I assumed you’d be staying in town to eat,” he went on, easy conversation, as if they’d done this a hundred times. “Or I’d have come home earlier.”

She’d never have recognized him. Never.

A mountain man, Emily? More like a prince, the kind in fairy tales and storybooks and a young girl’s gilded dreams.

He’d cut his hair. Not much, and a little shaggily, but it swept back from his forehead—high and noble, of course—and waved low against his collar. Without the shadows of that thick fall, his eyes weren’t quite as dark as she’d thought, not so deeply set, bits of gold sparking here and there in the brown.

She’d assumed his chin was weak, his mouth thin. Why else be so determined to hide it? Instead his jaw was cleanly sculpted, set at a pleasing angle, and his mouth looked like it had once known how to smile easily and often. And how to kiss even better than smile.

His shirt was clean and pressed and very white against the brown of his throat, his hands. She remembered washing it for him, putting in that stiff starch, and she felt herself flush. It seemed suddenly an intimate thing, washing the clothes a man would pull over his bare skin. A wifely thing.

She’d never before seen the pants he now wore, deep gray with a simple cut. Plain clothes that, on him, looked anything but.

“You cut yourself shaving,” she murmured. “Here.” And then she fumbled to pull a kerchief from her handbag. She reached up and pressed it against the tiny nick on his cheek—his skin was pale there, and on his chin, where the beard had shielded it from the sun, a contrast to the skin above on his cheek. His beard had been thick, and the stubble he hadn’t managed to scrape off completely left a black shadow on his jaw and pricked her fingers.

“Thank you.” His hand covered hers, holding it in place.
My, my, my
. He had the nicest hands, big and warm, not the slightest bit soft, but gentle when he touched her. This—
him
—had been but a few feet from her door all this time and she hadn’t realized?

But thank goodness. He would have had her spun around, and up and swindled her land before she got tired of looking at his handsome face.

“I always seem to be doing that, don’t I?” he said in the quiet, private tones of a man sharing remembrances with his wife. “And this time I don’t even have the excuse of you to distract me.”

“Harumph.”

“Oh!” Flustered—and even more so because she truly was so instead of merely acting that way for Kate’s benefit; she’d forgotten completely about Kate’s presence. Thank goodness she hadn’t blurted out something that would alert her sister to their charade. She jerked her hand away, leaving Jake with her frilly, feminine bit of handkerchief looking completely out of place in his very masculine hands. “I’m sorry, Kate. I forgot myself for a moment.”

“I could see that,” she said darkly. She crossed her arms—a swish of dove-gray silk, the flutter of rare lace—and Emily could see the hem of her skirt twitch, betraying the impatient tap of her toes. When Kate was annoyed and wearing heels it sounded like a drum corps.

“Let me introduce the two of you. Kate, this is my husband. Jake. Jake Sullivan.” The words sounded strange. Impossible.
Husband. Jake. Mine
.

Jake turned then, for the first time looking directly at Kate, and she had to laugh. Oh, he hid it better than most, but he gawked, wide-eyed, openmouthed.

Kate merely leaned over, placed one delicate, gloved hand beneath his chin, and pushed his jaw up. “Stop that,” she snapped.

He shot a quick, apologetic glance at Emily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I just—” He gave up, knowing there was no excuse, and shrugged.

“Heavens, darling, don’t worry about it. I’ve never met a man, even a newly married one, who didn’t have that reaction the first time he saw Kate. It’s as automatic as, and no more meaningful than, your sneezing if I blew pepper into your face.”

“Thank you ever so much for that comparison,” Kate said dryly.

“In fact, I’d be a bit worried about your taste if you
hadn’t
, and since you married
me
, I’d just as soon not have cause to question your taste.”

He recovered quickly. “Why don’t you let me take care of our unwelcome visitor, and then we’ll introduce ourselves properly?”

He turned and assessed the situation. “Oh, you’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you, Smithie? Play-time’s over, though. Time to go home.” Over his shoulder: “Why don’t the two of you wait outside?” He cast a skeptical eye toward Kate’s hat. “Wouldn’t want him to suddenly decide that your hair is the best nest around.”

Kate needed no more urging than that. She shot out the door so fast her skirts stirred up the spilled flour into a low, dusty cloud.

They were debating just how far away was an appropriately safe distance—Emily maintained they needed to be near enough to help, should her husband require it, which she interpreted as a meager ten feet; Kate was holding out for a minimum of a half mile, which she considered scarcely sufficient—when a blaze of brown darted between them, spinning Kate around.

“You missed him,” she said to Jake when he ambled up.

“He’s a quick little thing. Off to ride steer, most likely. He’s right fond of them, rides better’n half of the cowpokes around here, though he shies at the horses. He’ll find his way home when he gets hungry.”

“Bull-riding monkeys?” Kate murmured in a daze.

“Now then, Mrs. Goodale.” He took her hand, kissed it with an elegant gesture that showed he’d had some practice with the niceties. “Emily has been so looking forward to your arrival.”

“I’m sure she has.”

“Yes. I’m delighted that you’re here.”

“Kate will do,” she murmured, while she assessed her new brother-in-law. “
If
we’re to be family.”

Right up until this moment, Kate had not truly believed in his existence. He’d been no more real to her, no more likely to insert his live, breathing presence into her life, than Santa Claus. She didn’t know how she’d come to that conclusion, but a part of her had truly thought that she’d simply blow and he’d disappear into the air like frosted breath, and she could take Emily home, safe and sound.

Oh, but he was a handsome one. Easy to see why Emily’s head had been turned. She wasn’t so old—mature…well-seasoned…oh, there wasn’t a good word for it, was there?—that she didn’t still have an eye for, and appreciate, a fine specimen of a man. She did like the big, brawny ones, and he certainly had the potential for it, shoulders as wide as a barn door even though a bit narrow through the waist and hips.

But he sure had the looks, in spades. And Emily, sweet, trusting Emily, had been ripe for the fall. Kate had admittedly sheltered her, kept her away from most of the flirtations most girls her age might have had, on the theory that Emily’s soft heart needed to grow up and harden a bit before being exposed to the machinations of men. But that might have been a mistake, Kate acknowledged now. It had left her with no defenses against the first handsome scoundrel she smacked into.

He moved a shade closer to Emily, put his hand at her elbow, and she jumped. But then she settled down again, even smiling up at him shyly, a hint of rose in her cheeks, and Kate wanted to whack him.
You’ve got no right to put your hands on her
.

But he did, didn’t he? Emily had given him that right.

“Emily, how about that supper you promised me? I find my stomach’s calmed down nicely, and now I’m ravenous. I’d just as soon feed it before it acts up again.”

“Kate, I’m so sorry! You must be famished. Though it might take a while to get the kitchen clean enough to cook.”

“Oh, let it sit for a moment. I’m much more interested in eating than waiting for you to cook something, though I’m sure it’d be wonderful. Can’t you just rummage up a snack first? I’m sure we’ll all work much better with something in our stomachs.” She gave Jake her best smile. “And while you dig out some crackers, Jake and I will wait right here and he can tell me
all
about himself.”

Emily and Jake exchanged a long look, and then spoke together.

“I really could use his help—”

“Don’t you think I should be taking the buggy back—”

They both clamped their mouths shut, and neither said another word until Emily gave him a small nod.

“Nothing I’d like better,” Jake said. “Though I’m sure I’d much rather hear all about you than natter on about myself. Still, we borrowed the buggy and horse from our neighbors, and I’d best get it back. Wouldn’t want to take advantage of their generosity.”

So the two of them didn’t want her alone with Jake. Too bad. There’d be plenty of chances for her to catch him by himself.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No!” he said quickly. “It’s a healthy walk back. Be hard on you in those skirts and shoes. Not to mention the bugs come out at twilight. I’m sure we’ll have many opportunities to get acquainted.” He frowned. He did a lot of that, Kate had noticed; he looked like a man who’d done some smiling in his time, but you couldn’t tell it by his expressions so far. Was this a classic case of opposites attracting, then? Emily, who never stopped smiling, and this man who never started? If there was one thing she’d wished for Emily, it would be to marry a genial and good-natured man who adored her. Kate knew too well what it was like to marry a man who was none of those.

“You will be staying awhile, right?” he said with enough of an edge to have Kate suspecting he’d rather she turned around and went back home this very instant.

“Long as I’m welcome.”

The nudge Emily gave his ribs was better disguised than she would have given Emily credit for.

“You’re always welcome,” he said, and she thought he might have choked on the words.

“Long enough to make certain my sister is well and happily settled.”

He threw his arm around Emily’s shoulders, a big, hearty gesture that nearly sent Emily toppling. Didn’t he know to take care with her? She needed protection. Yes, he looked like he could do a fair job of fighting off bandits and wolves and whatever else was out here, but what good would it do if he didn’t curb his strength with her?

“Well, then you could go home right now, ’cause you can see she already is,” he said jovially. “Not that that’s a hint, you understand.”

“Oh, I understand.”

“Then I’ll leave the two of you for now. I’m sure you’ve got lots to talk about.”

Kate missed Mrs. Birovchak. There’d been drawbacks to being married to William Goodale—plenty of them—but having an army of servants floating around to do the heavy housework, and Mrs. Birovchak to oversee them, was not one of them.

Kate prided herself on being both clear-minded and clear-sighted. She saw the good
and
bad in things, and was capable of appreciating one while ruing the other.

However, there was nothing good she’d been able to discover in this situation as of yet. It was unlikely she ever would.

She put a hand on her aching back as she pushed herself to her feet, dusting the remains of the flour barrel from her skirt. She’d changed before they’d started to clean, but even her simplest dress wasn’t designed for physical labor.

“I’m done,” she said. “At least for tonight.” And she didn’t care one bit how much was left.

“It looks better, doesn’t it?” Emily opened the door and emptied a pan of sweepings into the yard. “It wasn’t nearly as hard as I expected.”

Not as hard as she expected? Kate looked around her, at the inadequate and dreary house; the battered, drab, and terribly insufficient furniture; and the scraps of supplies they’d salvaged. She looked at her sister, streaks of grease on her face, her clothes much worse for the wear, and she wanted to cry.
Oh damn it, Doctor
, she thought,
why couldn’t you have lived just a few more years?
Then she and Emily’d be safely back in Philadelphia, giggling and shopping, plotting what she was going to bring to Bryn Mawr.

“Emily,” she said, “let’s go home.”

Emily carefully set aside her broom and dustpan, folding her hands over the soiled length of dishtowel she’d wrapped around her waist in lieu of an apron. “I can’t.”

“Of course
we
can,” Kate said briskly. “We just pack up what you want to take back—there must be little enough of that—buy a ticket, get back on the train, and be gone. Nothing could be simpler.”

Emily just shook her head, face set into grave, serious lines. She never looked like that, not sunshiny, happy Emily. Had this land, this marriage, already taught her that expression?

“Whyever not?” Kate waved away Emily’s objections before she could voice them. “Because of your
husband
? I grant you, I can see the initial appeal, for he is very different from the men you’re used to, and you’ve had little enough experience with them at that. Maybe that was a mistake on my part. But it’s not the kind of appeal that would wear well. And you’ve scarcely been married long enough for it to count. No reason to cling to it just out of pure stubbornness.”

“You make it sound like it was a regrettable purchase that can simply be returned to the store, not a marriage.”

“More like a business contract that can be dissolved. Happens all the time.”

“Why didn’t you, then?”

For an instant Kate thought her heart seized, froze up like a pump in winter. “My marriage contract functioned
precisely
as it was intended to, exactly as I planned from the day I entered into it.”