Rebellious Bride (22 page)

“They made bets?” Lil asked, surprised to hear that herself, but then, men tended to keep a few things from the women, their gambling habits being one of them.

Billy nodded vigorously, sending his blond hair flying about his face. “They sure did. Old Fred Ferguson bet a whole dollar that the lord would hightail it out of Little by the end of that week. He sure was mad when he lost that dollar.”

Rolfe remained silent, keeping his smile to himself. He had heard all about the betting. It had helped him to judge some of the people better and learn more about their personalities. It had alerted him to the fact that Fred Ferguson remained unpleasant for several days after losing his money. Therefore, he could safely assume the old man watched every penny that came into and went out of his store. He probably even added a few pennies to the accounts he didn’t feel would pay promptly, reimbursing himself for their delinquency. Fred was as sharp as a tack and a shrewd businessman. Rolfe intended to deal carefully with him.

Curiosity got the better of Lil. “Did anyone win the bet?”

Rolfe and Billy answered simultaneously. “Your father.”

Lil’s eyes looked about to pop from her head. “My father?”

“Yup,” Billy chirped before Rolfe could. “He was the only one who had faith in the lord. He told everyone that the lord would stay put and make his home here, that nothing would chase him out. Though there was another bet about him leaving before he had to marry you.”

Lil’s cheeks didn’t flame this time. They paled, though her voice remained strong. “The men bet on Rolfe leaving Little instead of marrying me?”

Billy nodded while chewing his thumbnail. “Sure did. That time Fred bet a nickel that the lord would stay and marry you. Boy, was he mad that he didn’t bet more.”

“Did anyone win that bet?” she asked and added threateningly, “Don’t tell me my father participated in this bet.”

Billy laughed. “He wasn’t allowed to. Henry Smith won. He claimed the lord was too honorable to leave you stranded at the altar.”

Rolfe couldn’t hide his smile this time. Henry Smith’s decision to bet in favor of him had won his support and trust of the man.

“You knew about that bet, didn’t you?” Lil accused Rolfe as if he’d been caught stealing red-handed.

“Not many in town that didn’t,” Billy answered her and added quickly, “Men, I mean.”

Lil cast Rolfe an accusing glance.

“Don’t blame me.” He gave a gentle laugh. “You brought that one on yourself. Really, Lillian, how could you even think I would bet?” he said, affronted, though sounding far from sincere.

“He wasn’t allowed to bet either,” Billy informed her and turned his head to the side to spit out the tip of his nail, which he had finally chewed off.

This time her glance was judgmental. She had found Rolfe guilty, and execution was close at hand. Unfortunately so was the Johnson place. Rolfe’s sentence was commuted until a more appropriate time.

Billy hopped down out of the buggy and ran off shouting, “Ma! Ma! The lord’s come with Lil.”

As Rolfe walked around to help Lil out, he smiled at the rambunctious young boy’s actions. But she was already down from the buggy, bag in hand. She marched right past him, her mouth pinched a mite too tight.

Rolfe grinned and saluted her back with the cane he knew all too well she despised and walked in his most aristocratic manner toward the house.

Agnes Johnson hurried out onto the small front porch that held barely enough room for the two wooden rockers resting there. She wiped her hands nervously on her bright yellow apron and fussed with her brown hair, which was pulled back in a bun. Her pleasant and hospitable nature fit perfectly with her round, plump appearance. Her full size was a sure indication of her love of cooking.

“Welcome. Welcome, Lord Sherborn,” she called, looking past Lil to Rolfe.

Lil shook her head and hurried inside past Agnes to see to her daughter.

Billy took charge of entertaining Rolfe after his mother had fussed over their visitor, brewing him a cup of her special mint tea and insisting he sample her pumpkin cookies.

Rolfe generously praised the woman’s cooking talent, his every word sincere, and his every bite a mouth-watering bonanza.

“Wanna see my whittling?” Billy asked as soon as his mother had excused herself to join Lil in the other room.

Rolfe agreed with a nod. “I’d love to see your whittling.”

He held his hands over his plate and dusted off the last remaining cookie crumbs.

Billy giggled, trying to cover his amusement by cupping his hand over his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Rolfe asked, standing up.

Billy tilted his head back, his young eyes widening as they traveled up the length of the tall man. “I thought a lord always used a napkin.”

Rolfe placed his finger near his own lips and whispered, “This is our secret.”

Billy loved secrets, having many of his own. “I won’t tell. I promise,” he said and crossed his heart.

Rolfe crossed his heart as well. “Now let’s see that whittling.”

Billy threw on his dark blue jacket and led Rolfe out of the house, running a few feet ahead of him while kicking a small stone. “Is it hard being a lord?” he asked, stopping suddenly and waiting for Rolfe to catch up to him.

Rolfe admired the boy’s inquisitive nature. “Not at all. Most things are done for you, so you don’t have very much to do.”

“Wow! That must be great,” Billy said, chewing on his lower lip in thought, then jumping right back with “If I was a lord I’d have all the time I wanted to whittle.”

“Having all the time you want can eventually become boring. Without challenges life becomes dull.”

Billy turned around to look at Rolfe while walking backward. “Is that why you came to Little? You were bored?”

“I came to Little for the challenge.”

“Did you find the challenge you wanted?”

Rolfe smiled. “Yes, and it was a most unlikely one.”

Billy laughed, clearly understanding what Rolfe hinted at. “You mean Lil. I like Lil. She’s not afraid like most girls. She’s brave.”

Billy ran ahead and pushed the heavy barn door open. “Come on. My pa fixed an empty stall in the back for me to whittle in, since Ma complained about the mess I was making in the house.”

Rolfe followed the boy into the stall. A small bench and a few barrels turned bottom up occupied the confined area.

Billy placed a lantern on one of the barrels and lit the wick, filling the stall with light. Animal figurines whittled from chunks of wood sat everywhere. Horses, squirrels, possums, dogs, deer, and raccoons stared at Rolfe from the barrels and two shelves on the back wall. They had been carved with a good deal of skill, and Rolfe was impressed with the boy’s natural talent.

He picked up a fat little raccoon that eyed him suspiciously from the barrel top. Billy had even painted a dark mask around his eyes and tinted his body as well. The small fellow appeared quite real.

“You’re good, Billy. Very good.”

Billy smiled proudly. “Thanks, but my pa helps me a lot. He’s real good. His hands move so fast that you think he’s going to whittle his fingers, but he never does. Pa and me come out here after supper and work together. Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.” Billy grabbed a knife and a chunk of partially whittled wood and started whittling.

Rolfe watched with envy, thinking that he would love to have a son like Billy, full of life, happy, and inquisitive, and with Lillian that was a distinct possibility. She shared many of Billy’s traits. She would make an excellent mother, and he intended to make a good father, sharing much with his son.

The more he thought of Lillian, the more their marriage took on an air of permanence. Love and children solidified a marriage, deepened the relationship, made it stronger. In England he had not thought much about love when considering marriage. Yet here in this untamed land where bonds were equally as important as survival, he had discovered that love was an important factor in a marriage.

He couldn’t deny that sexually Lillian and he were extremely compatible. He had difficulty keeping his hands off her, and to his relief and satisfaction she appeared to feel likewise. But there was more to marriage than sex, much more, and he was just beginning to understand that.

“I could teach your son how to whittle,” Billy said, digging at the wood. He stopped whittling and looked up at Rolfe. “You and Lil are gonna have kids, ain’t—I mean, aren’t you?”

Rolfe smiled broadly. “We sure are. Lots of them, and you can teach my son to whittle anytime.”

“Good. So how do you like my animals?”

Rolfe held up the small raccoon. “I like them so much, Billy, that I’d like to buy this little fellow from you.”

“You mean it?” Billy couldn’t contain his excitement. He jumped up and down.

Rolfe reached into his pants pocket. “I mean it. How about a dollar?” He drew out a coin.

“A whole dollar?” Billy almost choked on his words. “You want to give me a whole silver dollar just for that whittled raccoon?”

“Yes, Billy, I’m offering you a dollar for the raccoon, but you can’t tell Lillian I bought it. It’s a gift for her.”

Billy shook his head so fast Rolfe thought he’d shake it right off his shoulders.

“I won’t tell, honest. Honest, I won’t.”

Rolfe handed him the shiny silver dollar.

Billy hesitated a minute, then took it and shook Rolfe’s hand. “Thanks, Lord Sherborn. Thanks a lot. I’m gonna save this and buy my ma and pa and sister special Christmas presents.”

“If you want to earn extra money, come over to my ranch. I’ll have Jonathan find some chores for you to do.”

“Boy, Rolfe, you ain’t near the fancy pants Lil said you were.”

Rolfe quirked a brow and grinned. “Fancy pants?”

“Yeah, that’s what Lil called you when you arrived in Little. A fancy-pants lord from England.”

Rolfe pursued the subject. “I take it Lil doesn’t like fancy-pants men?”

“Nope,” Billy said, shaking his head. “She likes strong men. But I don’t think she knows how strong you really are.”

Rolfe agreed with a hint of a nod and a finger to his lips to remind Billy that this was to be another secret between them. “That she doesn’t, Billy. That she doesn’t.”

~~~

Lil sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and waved the brush as if scolding herself. “How come your husband is in his bedroom and you’re in here?”

She cast a lonesome look at the connecting door. All evening Rolfe had been attentive, even suggestive in his looks and actions. She had thought he’d follow her into her bedroom tonight, but he had deposited her at her door and gallantly bid her good night and sleep tight.

Well, sleeping tight was the furthest thing from her mind. She was downright hot and bothered. Had been since this afternoon when he had almost tumbled her on the examination table.

Jen’s fever hadn’t come close to the fever Rolfe had raised in her. A mild tea and a few cool cloths and Jen was soon feeling better. Too bad Lil couldn’t say the same for herself. No tea and cool cloths would quell her fever. Only one tonic could ease her ailment.

Lil cast another glance at the closed door. If Doc could seek out whiskey for medicinal purposes, then she could seek out Rolfe to ease her fever.

She winked at herself in the mirror. “I like the remedies you prescribe.”

Lil stood, taking a quick glance at her blue cotton nightgown. Its long sleeves and high collar certainly didn’t extend a sensuous invitation, but then, it wouldn’t stay on long. She’d see to that.

Several quick strides took her to the door, and without another thought she pulled it open and walked into her husband’s room.

The lamp next to Rolfe’s bed was lit and bathed him in a fiery glow. He sat propped up against several pillows. His chest was bare, his muscles hard and inviting. The blanket barely covered his lower parts. A thatch of dark curly hair hinted at what lay nestled beneath.

Lil walked right up to the bed and looked down at him.

He looked back at her, remaining silent.

She didn’t wait. She pulled her nightgown off over her head, tossed it aside, and said, “I surrender.”

Lil stood looking from her bedroom door to Rolfe’s. Two weeks of bed hopping from her bed to his was too much to tolerate. Lil had had enough. If she wasn’t hurrying into his room at night, Rolfe was rushing... Her thoughts trailed off, and her solemn expression faded into a generous smile.

Rolfe never rushed.

He would enter her room in his nonchalant manner, involve her in conversation, and touch her, unobtrusively at first, then more intimately, more boldly, until they would tumble onto her bed together.

She on the other hand had no qualms about using the direct approach. She laughed to herself, recalling the way Rolfe would shake his head when she entered his room stark naked and literally throw herself at him. He’d scold her in a voice that promised rather than reprimanded.

“What am I to do with you, Lillian?” he’d say.

She’d playfully taunt, “Must I teach you everything?”

Which was what she was about to do now. She was going to teach him how married couples lived in the West, which meant sharing one bedroom.

“Jonathan!” she yelled, leaning over the banister. “I need your help!”

Lil entered her room and tied one of her white bib aprons around her waist to protect her pale blue blouse and dark blue skirt from any dust she might encounter. Though the thought that Jonathan would allow any dust to settle in Lord Sherborn’s house was quite ridiculous. The man kept an absolutely spotless home.

Jonathan entered her room, not the least bit breathless after rushing up the steps. The man was quick and nimble in more ways than one.

“What can I do for you, Lady Sherborn?” he asked.

Lil rolled up her sleeves neatly and announced, “I’m moving.”

“Moving?” Jonathan’s alarm was evident in his pale complexion.

“Yes. I’m moving in there,” she said, pointing to the open connecting door. “We’ll need to move some furniture and rearrange the wardrobe space, but between the two of us I think we can handle it.”