An Unwilling Husband (5 page)

What had he meant, that he hoped the old man knew what he was doing? Garret would likely forever be a mystery to her.

Her full skirts puffed with air and slowly deflated around her as she took a seat next to the black hole that held her lifeless father. She’d stayed behind to mourn in private but, unable to look at the still, blanket wrapped form below, stared instead at the crude wooden cross serving as a headboard to Roy’s eternal bed. Lenny and Burke waited a short distance away.

As the last of her sobs died and no more tears would come, Burke returned. As he shoveled dirt onto the grave, she ambled back to the house, Lenny beside her. The girl’s dark almond eyes looked as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t, and Maggie smiled and took her hand as they walked. That day, Lenny had shown her more kindness than anyone ever had except perhaps Roy, and she was grateful.

They neared the house, and the others stood out front. Cookie and a couple of men were gathered around Garret, who, from the looks of it, was cussing fit to turn his mother in her grave. Lenny stared solemnly straight ahead of them. Did the girl understand the curses, or just Garret’s tone? Cookie dusted off Garret’s vest and shirt, as if in an effort to make him look presentable. Odd.

Whatever the men were up to, she had no inclination to get involved. She wanted to be alone with Roy’s things, in the home that had built her. Lenny disappeared around the side of the house as quiet as a breath, and Maggie stepped through the back door to Roy’s cabin.

Her luggage lay open and disheveled on the quilted bed. Dresses and petticoats spilled over the sides and even her small jar of rose salve had been tossed haphazardly onto the pillow. She could have sworn she’d packed her belongings neatly the morning before.

The front door banged open, and she jumped. Garret barged in and tossed his hat on the table. From the disconcerting way he stared at her, she couldn’t tell if he was going to kiss or kill her. Heartbeat thundering away in her chest, she waited for him to speak.

“You look different than you did when we were little,” he started, sounding almost angry.

“So do you, Garret,” she said. What had offended him now?

He stepped forward until he stood directly in front of her. Raw power seeped from his very being and the brush of it against her skin brought a delicate shiver across the back of her shoulders. Could he see how much he affected her?

Neck stretched, she drank in his towering height. His brilliant, sky blue gaze touched places in her she hadn’t even known existed until that very moment. He stood so close, his warmth reached for her and she took an unintentional step closer. He was an intoxicating man, like the first sip of fine whiskey, and it left her dizzy to be this near him.

“I remember you had this ridiculous fiery red hair when we were kids.” He gently lifted a long strand of her wavy hair, now dark as a redwood. A look of tenderness flickered across his face before it was replaced with one of disdain. Her breath caught at his touch. Even angry he was beautiful. Like an avenging angel.

Garret pulled away and dropped her hair then rounded on the open luggage in two long strides and picked up the gaudy cream silk dress she had worn from the train station. “This one will do.” In his work-roughened hands, the shimmering material looked fragile, ridiculous. “It will remind me of exactly what I’m getting myself into.”

As he tossed the dress in a billowing heap onto the bed and headed for the door, she put voice to her confusion. “Garret, I don’t understand what you are talking about most of the time, but today you have been speaking to me in puzzles. Why would I wear this dress for you?”

He wheeled and faced her. “Because I aim to marry you. Today. Right now. I have to get the cattle to the train station tomorrow and the preacher has other engagements so this will be our last chance for a while.”

He couldn’t be serious. Marry her? She barked a laugh.

The determined expression on his face hadn’t changed. Peals of laughter burst from her, then more until the look in his eyes rivaled the coldest winter. At last, between gasps for breath, she could speak. “You don’t love me, Garret. Bloody hell, you don’t even like me.” Still chuckling, she wiped moisture from the corners of her eyes. “Why on God’s green earth would you want to marry me?”

“Trust me, darlin’, there is nothing I want less. But Roy made it his last request. Said you didn’t have any other options. Said it had to be me to take care of his girl, that he didn’t trust anyone else. And I, the damned fool that I am! I gave him my word.”

“Well that is very serious,” she said, hiccupping a laugh. She might actually be hysterical for the first time in her life.

Roy had been trying to give her what he thought she wanted. She loved him even more for that, but a marriage of convenience to such a hardened man could never work.

She tried not to smile. “I’m sure he would forgive you if you changed your mind.”

“I’m an honorable man, Miss Flemming. I’ve never broken my word, and I don’t aim to start on a dyin’ man’s last wish. Do you have any other options? What about family? Do you have someone in the city you can live with? ’Cause if so, we can both get out of this, and I’ll go tether myself to some other half crazed woman. One who at least stands a chance of sticking around when things get tough.”

Who did he think he was, speaking to her in such a manner?

But she couldn’t beg her room back in Boston after she’d left Aunt Margaret so merrily to come to Rockdale. Even if she did, no way on earth would she be able to endure her aunt’s hellish tongue for a moment longer. She had been too happy to leave in hopes of finding a place to fit in. Go back to her old life and subject herself to begging an allowance off that horrid woman? Never! Her life would have to be in Rockdale to find peace.

“Sorry, sir, no other options. I’m sure I can make it just fine on my own though. I’ll…learn how to run this place.” Even the words on her tongue sounded farfetched. She couldn’t cook or back a plow, and even if she were fast to learn, she still needed someone to show her how to do things first.

“Ha!” he barked. “Even if you could somehow manage it, the bank is going to take this farm, and then where will you be? I’m not discussing this any further. Get dressed!” He slammed the door behind him.

Lips pursed and a look in her eyes saying she’d heard everything, Lenny entered through the back door and joined her by the bed.

“Infernal man! Son of a…cockchafer!” Yes, that felt nice. Her cheeks were on fire and she chugged breath like a racehorse, but she didn’t care. He demanded she marry him, and on the day her father was put in the ground? If any less romantic gesture existed, she couldn’t name it. Decidedly uncivil of him. “Hey, let’s get married today. I have to get the cattle to the market,” she mocked in a deep, unattractive voice, swinging her hips.

Laughing, Lenny held up the cream colored dress.

Maggie glared at the flashy garment, biting her thumbnail. “I think not,” she said with a smile.

* * * *

The look on Garret Shaw’s face as she strode onto the front porch was a vision she would treasure for the rest of her life. Her dress was a daring red color and nearly recklessly low cut. Though the skirts were full and modest, the bodice clung to her form, and had small sleeves and layers of black beadwork. Never intending to wear the dress again, she’d brought it because it represented a cherished memory.

She had dared to wear it to a ball in Boston to upset her aunt, and indeed, Aunt Margaret almost had a conniption. The doctor was summoned to sort out her frayed nerves. For once in her life in that cold home—victory.

At the party she had worn a large necklace to make her feel more covered, but tonight, in the cool evening on Roy’s land, she left her collarbones exposed and cleavage bare. Though the necklace covered enough, the fabric’s lack of coverage was utterly scandalous. She had pulled her hair back with her boldest pins to expose the fair skin of her back. Several layers of rose salve and a dab of perfume between her breasts had finished her wedding look.

Never had she had more interested suitors nor a fuller dance card than on the night she’d worn the red dress to that ball.

Open mouthed, the look in his eyes icy with fury, Garret stared. The other men turned to see what had so fixed his gaze, and their expressions became eerily similar. Behind her, Lenny stifled laughter.

“Okay, boys, I do believe there is a wedding to be had. Let’s get this done, shall we?” Maggie snapped, marched to Garret and stood beside him. The preacher took his place in front of them.

“What happened to the white dress?” Garret gritted out from between clenched teeth.

“I lost it,” she said, glowering up at him. “And don’t tell me what to do.”

His narrowed gaze drifted to her decolletage then he spun toward the preacher, took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair.

The preacher cleared his throat and slid a glance to her dress. Once. Twice. He cleared his throat again and began the service. The look on Garret’s face should’ve turned her to stone. At the edge of her vision, Cookie stood, shoulders shaking from laughter that didn’t quite reach her.

The vows were simple enough, but as she tried not to think of what she was saying, she fumbled.
This is my wedding day. I am marrying Garret Shaw
, nagged and sent her pulse racing faster than it already was.

This day wasn’t at all how she’d imagined it would be. The entire time she and Garret repeated the vows, she glared at him and he at her, and when the preacher announced he may now kiss his bride, she gasped. Certainly not, would she be kissing Garret Shaw.

By Garret’s startled expression, he hadn’t considered kissing her, either. “That’s all right,” he said, almost growling. “I think Miss Flemming and I would like to forgo that one.”

“Mrs. Shaw,” the preacher corrected. “Now, kiss her so we can go.”

Garret stared at the preacher just long enough to make it awkward and sighed, then turned that steely blue gaze on her. Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never kissed a man before. Which was as it should be, for she was a gently raised young lady. She didn’t doubt for a moment though, a man like Garret Shaw had experienced intimacy by the wagonload.

Eyes closed, she waited, unable to look at his angry face another second for fear of losing her courage. She felt his hands on her arms, a gentle touch, and the softest, barest brush of his lips against hers. A beat, then he pressed his mouth more firmly to hers. The fabric on his chest caressed the bare skin on hers. A warm sensation deep inside her pressed downward, and the need to feel closer to such a powerful creature was staggering.

He pulled away but left his hands on her arms for a moment longer. When she opened her eyes, a menacing glower rode his face. He pulled his hands away and the absence of his strong arms made her stumble forward.

“Load up,” he snapped, headed into the house, and without a look back at her, disappeared inside.

A trembling hand over the exposed skin of her chest did nothing to stifle the acute disappointment of Garret’s willingness to be absent.

* * * *

The men had packed her belongings and the few things she wanted to keep from Roy’s cabin in the wagon’s flatbed and tied Roy’s mules to the back of the buggy. Garret and his men drove Roy’s cattle to the ranch, which would cause them to arrive much later than she, Lenny and Cookie had.

She leaned against the wall opposite Garett’s bedroom and glared at the closed door for what seemed like a considerable amount of time. Would he expect her to share his bed? Naive though she was about the intricacies of intimacy, she was well aware of the marital duties expected of a woman. Garret’s angry leer did not bode well for gentleness from him tonight. She chose the room across the hall from his instead.

Miserable, she leaned against the closed door to her new bedroom as if it could keep all of the ghosts away. She’d had such high hopes of finding happiness in this wild place. Memories of her childhood home were ones she’d breathed for in the darkest days of Aunt Margaret’s care. It had taken years to carefully tend and grow the courage that led her to escape Society and seek out a relationship with Roy again. She’d dreamed of how this time would be, and within a day all her hopes had tumbled into the mouth of an insurmountable darkness.

Roy was gone and now she was married to a cold callous stranger. The war between the memories of her childhood friend and the man he’d become weighed on her heart. Surely she couldn’t shoulder any more emotional burdens. He wouldn’t care that she’d chosen a different room. He’d made it clear he wouldn’t enjoy sharing her marriage bed. How could he enjoy intimacy with someone he loathed? A combination of grief for her loss, fear of an uncertain future, and anger at an unwanted marriage to someone who would surely break her where Aunt Margaret failed turned her stomach into knots.