Rebellious Bride (16 page)

Rolfe rode the mare to within inches of Harvey Williams’ face. He dismounted, held the reins in one hand, and walked up to the man, who stood about his height. “You know who I am?”

“Yes, sir, Lord Sherborn. I sure do.” Harvey grinned. “And I’m mighty—”

“Do you know that I protect what is mine?” Rolfe’s voice was sharp and ruthless, sending tremors through Harvey.

“Most men—”

“I’m not most men,” Rolfe said, his voice no stronger, though it was filled with such rage that it forced Harvey to take a step back.

“No, sir, you’re not.”

“You made a serious error, Mr. Williams.”

Harvey smelled his own sweat and took another step back as Lord Sherborn’s expression turned deadly. “I—I apologize—”

“Have you any idea what you’re apologizing for?”

“No, sir.” Harvey shook his head.

“Does the name Lillian bring anything to mind?”

Harvey was about to shake his head again when understanding dawned on him. “Lil? You mean Lil Pres—” Harvey’s face drained to pure white.

“I see you recall that Lillian is now Lady Sherborn.”

“I remember now. I won’t touch her again,” Harvey assured him. “Now that she’s got a husband, she’ll be stayin’ home mindin’ her own business and doin’ what a woman should do, takin’ care of her man. She won’t be stickin’ her nose where it ain’t her concern.”

Harvey didn’t see the fist coming. It connected solidly with his jaw, sending him flying back. He landed with a sharp crack to his head against the broken steps.

Rolfe turned to mount his horse, not trusting himself to keep from causing the man further bodily harm. He heard the fumbled movements and the mumbled “damn Englishman” from behind him. He swerved around, his gun leaving his holster in a split second.

Harvey stood, his big body wavering as his hand reached for his rifle. His eyes nearly fell from his head at the speed with which Rolfe drew his gun. Fright reached out to every pore in Harvey’s big body as he watched Lord Sherborn replace his gun in his holster.

“Go on, reach for it. It’s more of a chance than you intended to give me.”

Harvey shook his head, wincing from the pain. “No. You’re too damn fast. I’m not stupid.”

“That’s debatable,” Rolfe said and mounted his horse. “Don’t cross me again, Mr. Williams, and don’t stand in the way of my wife doing her job.” With that dire warning issued Rolfe rode off.

Rolfe stomped into the house and headed straight for his study.

Jonathan, familiar with his disposition, followed him, poured him a whiskey, and handed it to him as he took his seat behind the desk.

“Lillian?” Rolfe asked before lifting the glass to his lips.

“She’s sleeping. I’ve learned that chamomile tea relaxes her and helps to prevent fever, so I gave her a cup.”

“She’s quite intelligent, isn’t she?”

“And courageous,” Jonathan added.

“Yes, that too.” Rolfe drained half the glass. Lillian possessed a strength that was foreign to him. He was accustomed to females who collapsed into hysterics at the mere sight of blood. Afterward they would take themselves off to bed for at least a week to recuperate. Their pampered way of life left no allowance for courage.

His Lillian was different.
His
Lillian? When had she become an integral part of him? Their marriage was not even a month old. They knew little about each other. And she had yet to become officially his.

That was about to change. He wanted—needed—a more intimate relationship with her. Her spirited nature gave rise to his own. She challenged him physically and emotionally. He felt breathless at times and didn’t understand why, nor did he understand the pure enjoyment of his mixed emotions. She was an enigma to him, and he would delight in sorting her out.

“I have a plan, Jonathan.”

Jonathan stepped forward. He did so love plans.

~~~

Lillian felt as fit as a fiddle, but Rolfe and Jonathan fussed over her as if she were at death’s door. If she hadn’t fought like the devil, she’d have been upstairs this very minute in bed, having supper served to her on a tray, instead of seated at the table with her husband where she belonged.

She had freshened herself with a quick wash from the washbasin and changed into her periwinkle skirt and white blouse. Her hair, thanks to the surprising skills of Jonathan, was braided and left to fall over her shoulder and rest on her chest.

Rolfe reached for a biscuit as she did.

“I’ll get it for you.” He folded the white linen napkin back from around the mountain-high bowl of biscuits, selected a large warm one and placed it on Lillian’s bread plate.

Lillian broke the flaky biscuit open and was about to spread it with some of Jonathan’s delicious honey butter when Rolfe snatched it away from her.

“I’ll do that for you.”

Lillian had had enough. She grabbed it back, astonishing Rolfe. “I’m capable of buttering my own biscuit, thank you.”

“Your arm needs to heal,” he argued and reached out for it again.

She pulled the fat biscuit away but wasn’t fast enough, and his hand closed over hers. “What happened to your hand?”

Rolfe immediately removed his hand from hers, dropping it into his lap and out of her sight. “Nothing.”

Lil put the biscuit aside and held her hand out to her husband. With the directness of a person intent on receiving an immediate response she said, “Let me see your hand.”

Rolfe couldn’t help but grin at her demand. She looked like a young schoolgirl with her strawberry blond hair braided and her face fresh with a hint of blush from her recent scrubbing, yet her brisk tone sounded more like that of a headmistress.

“Your hand,” she repeated, obviously annoyed that he hadn’t immediately granted her request.

“My hand is fine,” he said. “Your attention is better paid to your food.”

“If you had permitted me to feed myself, your hand wouldn’t be in question.”

Rolfe leaned toward her and spoke softly. “My intention was but to see to your comfort. If I upset you, I apologize.”

Lillian sighed and rested back in her chair, looking forlorn. “You have been more than considerate. I am not used to such fussing—though it could grow on a person.”

She reached for her butter knife and winced, pulling her arm back.

“I’ll do that,” Rolfe said and, without thinking, reached for her biscuit.

Lil grabbed his hand. “Got ya!”

“Lillian, so help me...”

“Your knuckles are swollen and bruised,” she said, ignoring him while closely examining his hand. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’d been in a fight.”

Rolfe yanked his hand free, outraged by her insinuation. “You think me incapable of fighting?”

“Not exactly.”

“Only of winning. Right?” His voice had risen considerably with each word.

“Who in heaven’s name would you fight? And why?”

Rolfe stood, throwing his napkin to his plate. “Madam, I thought you intelligent. I now amend that inaccurate thought.”

Lil watched him storm out of the room. Who could he have fought? Who? And why?

“What do you mean he punched Harvey Williams?” Lil asked incredulously.

Holly laughed and shook her head. “It’s been the mainstay of gossip this past week. I’m surprised you haven’t heard it.”

Lil chewed thoughtfully on the inside of her lip, recalling the snickers and whispers that had gone on around her lately. She had attributed the muttering to gossiping tongues still busy discussing her unusual wedding and had dismissed the talk as nonsense.

Holly stood, gathering Lil’s plate and her own. “Harvey’s sporting quite a bruised jaw and enjoying it.”

Lil leaned back in her chair, her eyes wide with surprise. “Enjoying it?”

“The story gets him attention and free drinks at the saloon. He’s having the time of his life.” Holly moved on to the kitchen, calling behind her, “Be right back with dessert.”

Lil sighed. Dessert wasn’t on her mind at the moment. Her husband was. If the tale was true it would explain his swollen hand.

Holly returned with a warm apple pie and more tea. “Folks have been buzzin’ like a swarm of curious bees. They don’t know whether to believe Harvey or not, and no one’s man enough to ask Lord Sherborn about it. They’re especially puzzled about the gun.”

“What gun?” Lil questioned quickly.

Holly sliced into the pie, hefted the large wedge out and onto a plate, and passed it to Lil. “Harvey says Lord Sherborn upset him and he lost his senses and reached for his rifle. He demonstrates, for those interested—and there are many—how Rolfe spun around and drew his six-shooter with such speed that Harvey didn’t even see it leave the holster.”

“And everyone believes this tale?”

Holly shrugged. “Some do. Some don’t. You know how the people around here are. Some have to see it with their own eyes to believe it and even then they question what they saw.”

Lil recalled the glint of light reflected off Rolfe’s leg that day she had watched him out the window. Could he have been wearing a gun?

“Your mind appears mighty busy.”

Lil cut into her pie. “This all seems so odd.”

“Why? Most men protect what belongs to them.”

Lil almost choked on the apple chunks she had bitten into. “Are you implying that Rolfe punched Harvey in defense of me?”

“Why else would he hit a man he didn’t even know? Besides, Harvey’s telling everyone Rolfe warned him not to interfere in his wife’s work.”

Lil did choke this time, coughing and gagging on the apple chunks.

Holly rushed to her side and pounded her on the back. “Are you all right?”

Lil sighed heavily and nodded. Her husband, who objected to her profession, had warned another man not to intrude in her work. Why?

“Confused, aren’t you?” Holly asked, taking her seat.

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s easy, Lil. Rolfe believes he has a right to object to your work because he’s your husband. But let another man tread on his territory, and the old animal instinct of territorial rights rears its ugly head.”

“I suppose,” Lil conceded, though another thought had taken root. She wondered if Rolfe felt overly protective of her due to his assumed failure to protect his first wife. That made more sense. After all, it wasn’t love that had driven him to punch Harvey Williams.

The front door swung open, admitting a smiling Sam Prescott. “My two favorite ladies,” he called out and walked over to join them.

Lil grinned at the way Holly blushed.

Sam kissed his daughter and took the chair next to Holly, slipping his arm around her waist and giving her a squeeze.

Holly’s blush deepened. “Pie, Sam?”

“You bet,” he said, taking his arm from around her waist and rubbing his hands together greedily. “Why do you think I’m here?”

Holly’s cheeks reddened completely as she served him a slice.

Lil hid her spreading grin. Her father wasn’t here for pie. In the last couple of weeks she had noticed he visited Holly every afternoon for at least an hour, and she was certain it wasn’t her pie he hungered for. Lil had given thought to the idea that in some small way her marriage had proven beneficial. Her father appeared more comfortable in courting Holly. She supposed it was a relief for him to know that his only daughter was now settled with a husband of her own. And even though her marriage had begun in an uncommon manner, she had to admit she’d found contentment in Rolfe’s home and hadn’t sacrificed as much freedom as she had anticipated. Of course Rolfe had attempted to curtail her activities, but he hadn’t been successful at it.

“So you had some trouble with Harvey Williams,” her father said.

Lil threw her hands up in the air. “Is there anyone who doesn’t know about it?”

Sam shook his head. “Nope. The whole town’s talking about it. Everyone’s congratulating me on my courageous son-in-law. I’m glad you’ve got yourself a man who looks after you.”

“I didn’t get him,” Lil protested. “You got him for me. And how do you know Harvey Williams is telling the truth?”

“I asked Rolfe,” Sam said, taking a bite of his pie.

“He told you what happened?” Lil couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Not word for word. Said you got yourself into some trouble and he took care of it.”

“I got myself into trouble?” It was a question to which she expected no answer. Lil stood, holding herself stiff and keeping her temper in check. “Thank you for a delicious meal, Holly. See you later, Father.” Lil marched out the front door, a resounding slam marking her departure.

“She’s a mite mad,” Sam said.

Holly shook her head in dismay. “It wasn’t necessary to deliver Rolfe’s explanation so candidly.”

“Caused a tiff, did I?”

Holly smiled, feeling Sam’s fingers toying with the buttons on her white cotton blouse. “You did that on purpose?”

“It’s fun making up,” he teased.

Gooseflesh ran up her arms as his fingers found her responsive nipple and squeezed it playfully. She leaned toward him. “Lil can be hotheaded and—”

Sam cut her off with a kiss, sending gooseflesh down her entire body. “Hot-blooded, Holly? Lil
is
hot-blooded, but once she finds pleasure in bed her temper will abate.”

“You’re sure?” Holly felt a quickening in her stomach as his hands reached behind her back to unbutton her skirt.

“I’m sure. It happened to me.”

Holly touched his face gently. “I dampened your temper?’’

Sam nodded slowly and with a teasing smile added, “And fired my appetite.”

Holly kissed him then and whispered, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Sam shook his head. “No, I’ve got a hankering to try out that new rug in your parlor.”

Holly laughed and they both hurried off to the parlor, locking the doors behind them.

“Got myself into trouble, did I?” Lil mumbled, stomping down the boardwalk toward Doc’s office.

“Afternoon, Lil.” The greeting often was called out to her. She acknowledged it with a quick wave while continuing to mumble.

Her steps were rapid, the heels of her boots clicking out a steady rhythm. Her brown skirt whipped against her legs while she fumbled angrily with the knot of her knitted ecru shawl. The light garment was necessary now, with the onset of autumn and the chilled air that accompanied it.