A Bride Most Begrudging (34 page)

“I saw where you lived. Where you worked. Met your neighbors.”

The burning logs shifted, spitting out tiny flickers of fire before settling into a new position. His gaze moved over the nape of her neck, exposed by her position and tickled by a few fine dark hairs slipping from beneath her cap. “Ruth Parker sends her greetings.”

She turned her face toward him while keeping her head against her knees.

“She’s expecting her eighth. Might well have had it by now.”

He watched in fascination as she slowly blinked her eyes, a leisurely down sweep of lashes, tarrying for a moment before swinging open again. She asked nothing and, indeed, he had nothing more to tell. Her neighbors had been very reluctant to talk to him at all. If it had not been for this Ruth woman, he might never have found Obadiah—or his remains, as the case may be.

“Why didn’t you marry her?”

So jolting was her question that it took him a moment to realize she wasn’t talking of Ruth but of Hannah. He took a deep breath. He hadn’t spoken about it to anyone. Not in England, not here, not anywhere. He’d simply posted the announcement and left.

Yet with Mary, he didn’t have to be the successful tobacco factor from the colonies. He didn’t have to be the I’m-okay-even-though-I’ve-been-jilted younger brother. He didn’t even have to be the
master,
as Drew implied. With Mary, he need only be Josh. He snapped his toothpick in two. “I found her between the sheets with my best friend.”

He heard her quick intake of breath and chuckled humorlessly. “Know you what the saddest part is? I regret the loss of my friend more than I do the loss of Hannah.”

“I’m so sorry, Josh, but it’s glad I am that you found out before the wedding day.”

“I’m still incensed about it, Mary. The humiliation was beyond words.”

He tightened his lips. “I had intended to remain in England once I married and simply receive Drew’s shipments and fill his orders from there. I’m the only factor I know of who travels back and forth and have only done so to help Drew with the harvest. But he has men to help him with that now. So even though the marriage is off, I’m leaving when the next ship comes through.”

She slowly lifted her head up off her knees. “He’ll be heartbroken, he will. He cares for you very much and speaks of you often.”

“He has a new wife, a new home, and a new life. He’ll get over it.”

She said nothing for a long, long time. “Know you how to read your Bible, Josh?”

He humphed. “Between my mother, my father, and my grandmother, they made sure I read the thing frontward, backward, and upside-down. Alas, I’ve memorized half of it, I think.”

“Lucky, you are. I know not how to read and have only heard what the Father offered on an occasional Sunday morn.”

“I would be happy to read to you, Mary. Any time you’d like.”

She offered a hint of a smile. “Do you believe what it says?”

He squinted into the fire. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Hmm.”

He slanted her a glance. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, I know not,” she said, lifting her shoulders. “Just thinking of how I believed as you did, yet still Obadiah robbed my happiness.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “What are you talking about? One has nothing to do with the other.”

Unraveling her hands, she turned her face toward him. “That’s what I thought. I thought if I was clever or careful I could save my babies. But in the end, I couldn’t. I realized I had no power at all. So I gave God complete control over my life, I did.”

“When was that?”

“When Obadiah killed the babies.”

He was silent a moment. “I mean no disrespect, Mary, but since that time your husband was press-ganged and murdered and you have been tried for perjury, deported, indentured, and sold. If that’s what you can expect by giving God ‘control,’ then I think you’d be better off handling things on your own.”

She turned back to the fire. “Just be careful that you don’t let Lady Hannah rob you of your home, your family, or your very soul.”

He shifted, seeking a more comfortable position. “I had decided to leave Virginia long before I discovered Hannah was a bedswerver.”

“I speak not of your leaving, I don’t. I speak of your easy and caring nature.”

“You refer to a glass-gazing, knotty-pated, naïve Josh. He exists no more.”

Silence. “Then I will mourn the loss of him.”

She stretched out on her tick, and after a moment’s pause, he followed suit. They now lay feet-to-feet along the front of the fireplace. After a long while, her deep, even breathing reached his ears.

He, however, didn’t sleep but for snatches at a time, finally rising in the predawn hours to stoke the fire.

He had wanted Drew to have the pleasure of waking with his bride in total privacy. With that in mind, he’d brought corn pone over yesterday and left it in the storage room belowstairs, and he intended to have the men fed and packing hogsheads by the time the sun touched the horizon.

For Mary, it would mean a morning off from her ever-present task of feeding the multitudes. Opening the cloth pouch on his belt, he removed a battered chicken feather and ran his fingers along it for quite some time before brushing it across his lips, laying it beside her, then moving downstairs to wake the men.

————

Christmas Day dawned bright and sunny. Constance smoothed her hand down the waist of her new dress, anxious for Drew’s reaction. He’d been quite busy the past week, and she’d not seen much of him after that first day.

She hadn’t seen much of Josh either, for that matter. He’d continued to sleep in the big house, though Mary returned to the loft, and he only took the evening meals with them, opting to stay in the fields the rest of the time.

She wondered how Sally and Grandma were. They would see them at the service today. Grandma planned to stay on with Nellie, but Sally was to come home with them afterward. Constance couldn’t wait. She’d missed the little moppet terribly. Her only regret was she hadn’t been able to personally give her the green dress she’d made from her leftover fabric.

But Josh had insisted on taking it to her yesterday. He’d wanted to see Grandma and Nellie and then stay the night with them, meeting Drew and Constance at church on the morrow.

Well, the morrow was here, and she couldn’t wait to embark on her first outing as Mistress O’Connor. The walk to church would totally wet the bottom of her skirt and soil her shoes, but it mattered not. It was Christmas Day, she’d meet new friends and Drew would be at her side the whole day through.

A great deal of noisy crunching heralded the approach of Drew and his men on the icy ground outside the cottage. She tightened the bow at her chin, ran a hand down her stomach, then glanced at Mary. “Are you ready?”

Mary nodded, her only concession to Christmas being a beautiful lavender ribbon tied about her waist. Constance had oohed and aahed over it before Mary finally confessed that Josh had given it to her.

The door opened, and Constance’s heart stopped beating. Drew had dressed for the occasion as well. She’d grown so used to seeing him in the same type of garments day in and day out she’d never imagined him wearing anything else. But, oh, what a sight he was in his burgundy doublet slashed along the sleeves to accommodate the full white shirt bulging from its slits. Fine linen had been sewn to the cuffs and front opening, shown to fine effect against his camel-colored jerkin. His loose maroon breeches matched his doublet and were fastened below his knees. He reached up and removed a stiff beaver hat. He looked from Constance to Mary, then indicated with a nod of his head for Mary to leave. Mary scurried out of the cottage, grabbing her shawl before closing the door behind her.

“You said you had enough material for your gown.”

Constance blinked, glancing down at her dress. “I did.”

“Then what happened to the bodice?”

“Nothing happened to it. Why? What’s wrong?”

His face filled with color. “What’s wrong? What’s
wrong
? The upper swell of your breasts are exposed!”

She laid a hand across her chest. “Is it lower than what the women here wear?”

“By trow, Connie, look at it!”

She jerked her hand down to her side. “I
asked
you what the fashions here were, and you said anything I made would be fine! Scooped bodices are all the rage in London and usually cut much, much deeper. But this one is perfectly decent. Am I to believe
no one
here wears scooped bodices?”

“Of course not!”

She swallowed hard, holding her tears in check. “I see. Well, I’ll just wear one of my everydays, then.” She turned her back, moving to retrieve one from a peg.

Softening his voice, he took a couple of steps forward. “Haven’t you a neckpiece or something?”

She shook her head, silent tears now pouring down her face.

“Are you crying?”

She shook her head again, but he’d moved behind her, turning her to face him.

“Oh, Connie. Maybe the other women do wear scooped bodices. I honestly know not. All I know is, when you try and pack yourself into a bodice of that sort, well, it worries me. What if you had to sneeze or something? You’d be in jeopardy of …”

Her shoulders wilted. “That is the most addlepated thing I’ve ever heard. This neckline barely dips below my throat. I’m not in jeopardy of anything.”

He looked unconvinced. “I suppose you could leave it on. The meetinghouse doesn’t have a fireplace, so we’ll all be in overcoats. No one will ever know.”

“What about afterward?”

He rubbed his palms up and down her arms. “The men’s military exercises are all out-of-doors, and any indoor activities will be in the frigid meetinghouse. You can simply claim you’re not used to these Virginia winters and wish to keep your overcoat on. The bottom of your skirt will still be visible.”

Bitter disappointment pushed more tears from her eyes.

“Now what’s wrong? I said you could wear it.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I w-wanted you to l-like my dreeessssss.” He moved his gaze over her. “The gown makes my mouth water, love.”

She swiped at her tears. “Drew, will the other women take off their overcoats?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I want to take mine off. I can’t possibly keep it on all the day long.”

He glanced at her neckline. “Oh yes you can. Now wait here and I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, he returned with a beautiful fur draped across his arm. Constance stroked the soft orangish-red fur, cool to the touch from being outside. “Fox?”

“Yes.”

“When did we eat fox?”

“We didn’t. I made the Indian boy who chopped off your braid give me something in return. He decided fur the color of your hair would be a fair exchange.”

She buried her fingers in it, running them against the grain. “It’s stunning.”

“So is your hair.”

Looking up at him, she smiled. “Oh, Drew, you’re such a peagoose.”

He opened up the fur, placing it across her shoulders.

“It’s a cape! And calf length! I thought it was a lap robe.”

He smiled, pulling the hood up over her head and tying the front closed.

She preened, looking down at the lovely contrast it made against the green of her skirt. “Perhaps I won’t need to take it off after all.”

He pulled her against him and gave her a swift, hard kiss. “Merry Christmas, love. Now, we needs must go. The others wait upon us.”

Outside, the eastern sun delved through the barren forest, scattering a profusion of tiny rainbows from the ice-covered branches to the earth’s crystal floor. A handsome young bird wearing a leaf-brown jacket and a white bib at the throat fluttered to a branch, emitting a lovely series of descending halftones in a clear, loud voice.

Cool air bathed Constance’s face, bringing the crisp, clean scent of winter with it. None of it, however, had the effect on her that the chair sled did.

Constructed of wide oak boards, the sled itself was nothing more than a chair on runners with a handle attached to the back for someone to push. But strewn across its sides and back were a series of yellow wild flowers woven together to form a garland of sorts. The daisylike flowers were no more than an inch in diameter but grew in clusters and were very numerous.

She fingered one, a delicate petal breaking off into her hand. “They’re beautiful. Wherever did you find them?”

“Josh spotted them on his walk home from the wharf. He only mentioned them because they don’t usually bloom this late in the season.”

She brought the petal to her nose. “What are they called?”

When he failed to reply, she looked up at him, noting the mixture of humor and consternation in his expression.

“What?” she asked.

“They’re called
sneezeweed
.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “You’re jesting.”

“I wish I were.”

She bit the insides of her cheeks. “Do they make people sneeze?”

He hung his head, but suppressed laughter caused his shoulders to bounce. “For some.”

Laughter rippled from her lips, his low and throaty chuckle harmonizing with hers.

In that moment, when his crystal blue eyes held hers, when his straight white teeth contrasted pleasingly with his tanned face, when those deep dimples framed his smile, she knew once again. Knew there was no other place she’d rather be on Christmas Day or any other day than right here with Andrew Joseph O’Connor.

He extended a hand to her.

“I would have been happy to walk.”

“I don’t want you to take ill again.”

“Where did you get the sled?”

“I made it.”

“For me?” she asked, running her hands along its smooth surface. He nodded.

“When?”

“Over the last month or so. Come. We needs must go.”

She put her hand in his and allowed him to settle her into the seat. He handed her a small pile of blankets, which she secured on her lap, then he placed a tin foot stove with fired charcoal at her feet. Removing one of the blankets from her lap, he draped it over her and the stove, effectively creating a cocoon of warmth.

Had she been in London, it would have been less than what she was accustomed to. But here, in this wilderness, with Drew the one attending to her, she felt much like the queen herself.