Rocky Mountain Wild (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 6) (12 page)

“No,” she cried and then tempered her response. “No. I could not bear to leave.”

He knelt back down in front of her, grey eyes at her level. “Do you care for me a little then?”

“Yes,” she said honestly. He was everything to her.

A smile broke across his face. “Then don’t worry, lass.” He patted her knee. “Leave it all to me. I’m going to take this burden from you, wee one.”

She liked the sound of that, but pretended to pout. “I’m not wee.”

“You are to me.”

She grunted and his eyebrow went up.

“Crossing me already?”

“No.”

“That’s all right. I know how to make you sweet.”

She flushed, and he grinned.

“That’ll be the way of it from now on. Whenever my wee wife gives me lip, I’ll put her across my knee and spank her, then give her release.”

*

The next morning, Phoebe woke in her bedroom. Groggily she pushed open the door and froze. The sunlight streamed inside the lodge, illuminating the truth of last night. The little tub was there with the remains of her bath. Her tin mug waited at her spot along with the coffee crock. But most telling was that Calum wasn’t off doing chores. Instead, he bustled about the hearth, stirring porridge. His back was to her, but she could tell he was wearing a well-brushed buckskin coat and new trousers.

“Mr. MacDonnell?”

His cheeks curved into a grin, but he didn’t turn around. “Call me Calum.”

She padded to her chair. “You didn’t wake me.”

“You slept hard. You needed it.” Grabbing a bowl, he dished up her porridge. There was already a jar of preserves by her place, and a crock of honey.

“You could’ve woken me. I can make breakfast.”

He came to the table and she caught her breath. He’d bathed and shaved, trimming his hair and beard to reveal a strong, masculine jaw line. Phoebe wouldn’t have recognized him at first, if he wasn’t serving her porridge, fixing her with his kind, grey eyes.

“How do I look?”

She swallowed. He was the handsomest thing she’d ever seen, and it left her speechless.

“That bad, eh? Took me a while to cut my hair. Next time I’ll have my wife do it.” He winked at her and her knees almost gave out. She sat, and let him serve her breakfast, including a healthy dose of preserves and a cup of coffee.

She grabbed at the mug, wondering if Calum was in the ‘fatten Phoebe’ conspiracy with Mrs. Martin.

“Reverend will be here in a few.”

She choked so hard on her coffee Calum patted her back a few times. “Reverend?”

“Aye. I’ll not wait around to say the vows.” He scooted his chair closer to hers, resting his elbows on the table and focusing on her. “Eat up, lass.”

It was all she could do to choke down a mouthful. All too soon she stood in the second bedroom, pulling on the blue gingham she’d found in the mysterious dresser. After Calum said she could have it, she’d altered it to fit her slender form. Her Calum was so excited she suspected he’d lost his mind. Even now, she could hear him humming tunelessly in the lodge.

Why would this man want to marry her?

Tugging a brush through her hair, she had to tell herself to breathe. It seemed only yesterday she was stepping off the stage before the Martins’ store, and greeting the wild man on the porch. He’d bought her a mule; he’d walked her home each night. Most recently, he’d fed and bathed and cared for her. And all she had to offer was her work, quiet company, a few songs on laundry day, and a skinny body complete with an ugly twisted foot.

Had he gone mad? He said he wanted to help her, but this was beyond all good sense.

She heard voices outside her door; their guests had arrived. Tossing away the hairbrush, she pushed her hair back, wondering if she had time to braid it.

“Phoebe,” Calum called.

Breathing deeply to ease the flutters, she tugged her shawl around her like a shield and stepped out.

Calum met her at the door. He stopped in his tracks and blinked at her, and she realized she’d never worn this dress in front of him before. Secondhand, it was still the finest thing she owned. Her brow creased and she pleaded at him with her eyes until he nodded. Was it her or did a hint of sadness enter his expression even as he told her, “You look lovely, lass.” Catching her elbow, he turned her to face the guests.

“Reverend, Mrs. Shepherd. This is my bride, Phoebe.”

Phoebe felt a little dizzy as she stepped forward to greet the two—the reverend and the witness. “Nice to meet you,” she whispered, and would’ve swayed if Calum hadn’t had his big paws on either shoulder. She looked up at the reverend, and then up further, for he was very tall. His brown eyes were gentle as he looked down at Phoebe. Did he see her and wonder why anyone would marry her?

“Nice to meet you, dear,” a woman’s voice trilled. A lovely blonde woman came forward, her hands clutching a posy of blue flowers. “I picked these for a wedding bouquet.”

It took Phoebe a few tries to find her voice. “For me?”

“Yes. I knew as soon as I opened the door this morning and saw Calum standing there, it was going to be a special day. Of course, if I had known about the wedding sooner, I would’ve brought a finer gift.” The blonde laughed and presented the blue bouquet.

“These are beautiful, ma’am, thank you.” Phoebe buried her face in the blooms to hide her nervousness.

“Call me Esther.” The woman’s green eyes sparkled. “I know we haven’t met, but I’m so glad you came to Royal. Mrs. Martin has mentioned how much she likes you. And it’s been obvious how enchanted Calum’s been these past few weeks.” Esther clapped her hands, and Phoebe jumped at the sound. Her head was spinning at the blonde’s dizzying speech. “Seeing the two of you… I’m just so happy for you both!”

“Perhaps we could let the couple get a word in edgewise.” Johnathan put his arm around his wife, as if to steady her.

She leaned into him, face shining as she looked up at him. “I’m excited.”

“I know you are.” Her husband smiled down at her.

Phoebe’s heart sank. Here was a beautiful couple, happy with one another. Esther was so lovely, a man would have a reason to marry her.

Calum opened the door and Wolfie bounded in. The big dog ran up to Esther and the reverend, sniffing and rubbing his wet fur against their clothes.

“Wolfie! You great awful beast, what are you doing?” Calum reached for the wolf dog but the animal was too quick. Phoebe knelt and held out her arms, and Wolfie went right to her.

She hung onto him, breathing in his wet, doggy scent and finding comfort in his animal exuberance.

He licked her face before Calum dragged him off.

“Perhaps we can do the ceremony on the porch, where he can be a part of it,” the reverend suggested.

“Phoebe.” Calum extended his hand.

It was now or never. Pushing aside her fear, Phoebe went and took it.

As they walked out on the porch, she leaned on his hand, hoping her limp wasn’t so noticeable.

The reverend was staring at her foot.

“Mr. Shepherd.” Esther nudged her husband.

Snapping out of it, the man continued with the ceremony. Phoebe and Calum spoke the vows, Esther stood at the side with a big smile, and Wolfie sat on his haunches beside them. When it was over, Esther threw a shower of flower petals over everyone.

And just like that, Phoebe was married. Her thoughts still whirled as Mr. MacDonnell leaned down and kissed her lips while Esther cheered. Phoebe’s mouth tingled where Calum’s had touched it, and she missed most of the conversation of the following minutes. Her new husband kept his hand tight around hers.

Calum nudged her. She blinked at him, then realized the reverend had addressed her.

“Mrs. MacDonnell,” the reverend repeated, smiling. “I was wondering if I could trouble you a moment to examine your foot.”

The blood drained out of Phoebe’s face. If she hadn’t been tucked into her new husband’s side, she would’ve fled.

“My foot?”

Glancing down, Phoebe realized with horror that she was still wearing her bedroom slippers. In her rush to dress, she’d forgotten to put on her thick boots.

“Yes, I noticed a slight limp, and thought it might be giving you some trouble. I’m a medical doctor by training, and when I first came to see you during the illness, I noticed a slight abnormality in the bones of your foot. I sent for the latest research and techniques on correcting the protuberance.”

Phoebe couldn’t speak. Was this a cruel trick to embarrass her? Her foot was cursed, twisted from birth. Nothing could be done. Had Calum told them about her limp—or Mrs. Martin? Were people talking about Mr. MacDonnell’s poor crippled maid, and pitying her?

“I think that what my husband is trying to say, is that he’s seen your foot, and he thinks he’s able to help,” Esther said. “Perhaps you might be willing to let him look at your foot more thoroughly, one day when you’re ready.”

“Yes and—” Johnathan started, and Esther poked him.

“Later, dear.”

“But—”

“Let Phoebe and her new husband have their special day. There will be another time.” This time Esther calmed her husband, pulling him aside and whispering to him while her elegant fingers straightened his collar.

“You all right, lass?” Calum murmured.

Phoebe nodded and leaned on him. She felt relieved the doctor wasn’t going to strip off her slipper and stocking and examine her right then and there.

The reverend doctor cleared his throat. “My wife reminds me of our next errand. We need to be going. I’m sure you are eager to spend the day together as well.”

“It was nice to meet you, Phoebe. Come visit anytime,” Esther said as the two men shook hands. “Perhaps you could come show me how to do the fine stitches Mrs. Martin loves so much.”

“I’d like that,” Phoebe said.

She and her new husband stood on the porch, waving the Shepherds away. Phoebe felt a mixture of relief and dread. When Calum’s hand fell on her shoulder, she turned to face him, moving in a daze.

Was this a dream?

The big man cupped her head in both hands, grey eyes holding her blue ones. “Mrs. MacDonnell,” he said finally, with satisfaction. “My wee Phoebe.” She closed her eyes as his head descended, but he only kissed her forehead.

“Chores first. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With a final squeeze, he left her.

Watching his big form stride away, Phoebe felt a mix of excitement and sorrow.

She’d only meant to carve out a little life for herself. Now she was married to a big Scott and living in his giant lodge, with a wolf dog.

It was a happy dream, but she steeled herself, knowing it would not last.

*

She moved about the cabin in a fog.

Charity case. That had to be it. He’d married her because he was a kind man and he took pity on her. It was a bitter thought, but it must be the reality. Why else would he tie himself to her?

Her head dropped, and then she realized she was still wearing her bedroom slippers. In her haste to get dressed, she’d forgotten to take them off.

The Shepherds had seen her incomplete toilet; they were probably talking and laughing about it now. Soon word would spread that Calum MacDonnell had married an incompetent cripple…

Fighting the urge to bury her face in her hands, she stood paralyzed in the middle of the cabin, ashamed.

That was how her new husband found her when he returned, much, much too early to have completed any chores.

He was still humming a tune in a raspy, off-key lilt.

“Calum,” she rasped, speaking around the great lump in her throat.

He strode towards her, with not quite a grin, but some intense joy lighting his face. His grey eyes danced.

She couldn’t bear to even look at him.

“Yes, my bride?” His burr sounded more pronounced with the unmistakable pride in his voice.

Her gaze slipped down, and again caught sight of the slippers. How could he want her?

“I—” She put her back to him, fingering her hair. Esther’s flowers were still there and she pulled them out, thinking they must look wilted and ridiculous. But no, they looked fine. She laid them on the table wondering if she could press them and keep them, a reminder of this awful day, that was still the best day of her life.

“Phoebe,” Calum called. He was wearing new moccasins, along with his finest clothes. He was so handsome it made her heart hurt.

“I know you married me for the purposes of charity,” Phoebe blurted before she lost her nerve. “I want to say that I’ll work hard to be a good wife to you.”

His head cocked to the side, intelligence working behind his grey eyes.

“Wolfie, out.” The beast stood with a sigh and trotted onto the porch.

“Calum, did you hear me?”

“Aye. I heard, but I didn’t understand.”

“You can’t possibly want me.”

“Phoebe, look at me.”

She started to turn, and he was right behind her, crowding into her space, pulling her close. His finger came under her chin and lifted it as his mouth descended.

Her whole world was Calum, his insistent lips, his bristling beard scratching her face. When the kiss was done, she rocked back, still in his arms, breathless.

“Phoebe, you’re the most beautiful lass I’ve ever laid eyes on. Not to mention sweet and kind. And it’s a good thing, because some of the things you say make no sense.”

“But—” she started, and his mouth locked onto hers again, swallowing the sound. He kissed her like she was the only thing in the world, shoulders hunched as he bent close to her, his big hands light on her face, guiding her, he kissed her deeply and then he pulled back and kissed her sweetly, laying little pecks on her lips until she leaned forward for more.

He broke away, fingers stirring her hair, and smiled down at her. She recognized his intense, happy look, and with a jolt realized what it was. He was admiring her and savoring the sight.

And for a moment, everything was beautiful.

“Bedroom?” he asked, and reality descended. Her eyes darted to the dark inner room, the massive pallet piled high with furs.

“I don’t know—” she started, and again he interrupted her with a kiss.

When it was done, she swayed a little.

“Not the bedroom then,” he stated firmly, and picked her up in his strong arms.