Chevonne: Bride of Oklahoma (American Mail-Order Bride 46) (9 page)

When he first sent away for a mail-order bride, he didn’t really care if his family approved of her. Heck, if he’d had his way, he wouldn’t even have introduced them. But his mother would have had none of that.

Iona Garner was a harsh judge and Trey knew she suspected that he wasn’t going to make a whole-hearted go at a real marriage. He knew his mother didn’t approve of how he’d found a bride, and he’d feared that she wouldn’t approve of Chevonne, but it looked like his new wife was winning his mother over.

He could tell Iona was warming up to Chevonne because she kept fiddling with the lace on the reticule Chevonne had repaired, and she kept smiling down at it. He knew that his mother liked to act tough, but that she was just a softy on the inside, and full of concern for her family’s happiness.

Trey was surprised, and a little scared, at how easy it was to act like a real married couple in public. Chevonne did a great job, and he supposed that was what made it easy.

Of course, her good looks didn’t hurt, either. The sensual, flowery scent of her was sure distracting too, in a nice way. It wasn’t just the scent. Her skin practically glowed and her hair had taken on a lustrous sheen. It glinted in the sun.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarah Perkins dart a disapproving look at Chevonne. Lucky thing he didn’t married Sarah. He would never have caved to his mother’s wishes, but still, the thought gave him pause. He couldn’t imagine having to kiss her or even spend time talking to her.

But wasn’t that what he had wanted in his wife-of-convenience? His eyes flicked from Sarah to Chevonne. Was there an emotional element to his fake marriage? The kiss had heated his blood, but it wasn’t just that. He enjoyed talking to Chevonne especially about the future and new inventions. He even enjoyed just being with her—sitting in companionable silence in the buggy, or eating breakfast and supper together in the kitchen.

Wasn’t that better than a marriage-of-convenience, to be with a woman he wanted to have as a partner in life, someone he could share his ideas, hopes and dreams with?

It might be better, but could he ever have that with Chevonne? No, not until he told her everything about his real passions, his real plans, and his inventions in his laboratory.

Unfortunately, his experiments had been failures thus far. He didn’t want to tell her about his project until he had something that actually worked. He wanted her to be proud of him, to see that shine in her eyes like when he’d shown her the bath screen he’d designed and crafted for her, and when she’d toured the house he’d designed, and when she’d seen how well-stocked and equipped he’d made his kitchen for her. He wanted Chevonne to be proud of her husband.

Suddenly Trey couldn’t wait to get home and get to work on his project. He had another idea that might just do the trick and if it did, he would share it all with Chevonne. He would tell her everything and take that first step on the path to making her his real wife.

He prayed she wanted that too and that there was nothing that would stand in their way.

L
ater that night
, Chevonne sat in her room contemplating her grandmother’s designs. The knickers that she’d worn to church that day had bunched up in all the wrong places, so she was adjusting them by hand, with a needle and thread, to see if she could improve them.

Looking over Gram’s sketches, she couldn’t figure out where she’d gone wrong. Some of the designs were a lot skimpier than the one she had sewn, but she didn’t dare make any of those yet. Her plan was to introduce people to the less risqué designs before going full out with the shorter undergarments and matching corsets which were also much skimpier than anything currently for sale.

She was having a hard time focusing, though. Her mind kept going over the events of the day. The effect that the closeness of Trey’s family had had on her had been surprising. She hadn’t realized being part of the family was so important to her. But now she had a yearning for it. Maybe even to start a family of her own...

With Trey?

She had to admit he warmed her heart. Not just because he looked devastatingly handsome in his church clothes, and smelled lovely with his spicy scent. Perhaps it was the way he’d hovered close to her, protectively, that had made her pulse skitter.

Trey was a great kisser. That thought kept popping up uninvited. She pushed the memory aside and thought about how she liked talking to him. He was a forward thinker. They had a common bond in that area.

Though she had to admit she was a little put off by the way he’d said he liked her cooking and making the house homey. She wasn’t one of those women that would be happy doing nothing but waiting on her husband. Although she did like making a nice home, and she loved the shine in his eyes and his smile when she served up their meals, and when he’d hung the curtains around the house.

He was certainly a good provider. She didn’t really think he was the type of man that expected the woman to wait on him hand and foot. Just the other morning he’d waited on
her
, cooking breakfast so that she didn’t have to stand on her injured ankle. He was even going to bring her breakfast in bed. And he had been thoughtful enough to provide her with a hot compress, and the bath screen.

He had been oddly silent after church, though. Not that she minded—she’d been lost in her own world. They’d ridden home together and then he’d gone out to check on some things around the ranch, returning home just before supper.

They’d had a meal of soup, the last of his sister’s vegetables with a meat pie made from the remains of the roast, and the ribbon jelly for dessert that she’d served with some sweetened whipped cream.

The conversation had been light, but that could have been because Trey was enjoying the food so much. Actually, they both had seemed distracted. She wondered what Trey could possibly be distracted about. Certainly they weren’t the same things that were distracting her.

After supper he’d retired early, locking himself in that mysterious study of his. Why was he so secretive about the study? Or was it just her imagination?

She felt a sharp pin prick of pain as the needle stabbed her index finger. “Ouch!” She brought the finger to her lips, sucking on it as she inspected the seam she was stitching. All the stitches were uneven and would have to be ripped out.

Chevonne threw the piece on the bed. It was no use trying to work. She was too distracted by thoughts of Trey and whatever was going on in that room downstairs. And besides, the dim light of the lantern made it hard to see what she was sewing.

She opened her door and crept down the stairs. The house was quiet. The stairway was dark. Luckily the full moon slanted silvery light through the windows, allowing Chevonne to see where she was going. Luckily she’d opened all the shades and the tops of the sash windows to let in the cool night air.

Where
was
she going?

Was she going to sneak around and spy on her pretend husband, or would she boldly knock on the study door? It wasn’t so late that he would be asleep—at least she didn’t think so. She had no idea when he went to bed.

Chevonne got to the bottom of the stairs and paused near the foyer, her confidence evaporating. This was silly. What was she doing? She rearranged the flowers in the jar that she’d put there just a few days earlier. Had she only been there for a few days? It seemed like forever.

A strange bubbling noise came from the end of the hall. What was that? The noise drew her toward it. She crept along the hall, her eyes glued to the closed study door. She paused in front of it, leaning slowly forward to put her ear against the solid wood.

Creek!

Her heart jolted in panic. Shuffling sounds came from inside the room. Trey was coming to the door! Chevonne jumped back just before he yanked the door open, his face an angry glare. His eyes widened as his gaze focused on her illuminated in the light from the room.

“Chevonne, what are you doing here?”

“Umm ... I ... I thought I heard something.”

She flicked her gaze past him to see into the room, but not fast enough. He came into the hallway, quickly closing the door behind him.

Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her. The tiny sliver of the room that she’d seen seemed to be set up with copper tubing and glass beakers.

“A noise?” Trey glanced behind him in the direction of the loud bubbling noise. “I don’t hear anything.”

Chevonne grimaced in irritation at his lie. “You hear nothing?”

“Another raccoon, perhaps?” Trey joked.

Chevonne couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe.”

She stared at him for several heartbeats. She knew she should go back to her room, but his presence was like a magnet. A tingle of electricity charged through her. His eyes softened. She swayed closer as if pushed by some unseen force. He took a step toward her and now they were almost touching. His head dipped, his lips coming closer. Chevonne held her breath, her eyes shutting as she waited for his lips to touch hers.

Crash!

They both whirled to face the study door. The crash had come from inside.

“What was that? Is someone in there?” Chevonne demanded to know.

“No. I mean yes.” Trey stammered, “The goat. Daisy.” He looked as shocked as Chevonne by that answer.

“You keep a goat in there?”

Trey ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes darting from her to the door. “She’s a pet. Since I was a boy. I’d better go in alone, though. She likes company, but only mine.” He inched the door open.

Chevonne waited, curious to see this non-existent goat. She’d never heard of such a thing as keeping one in the house. And she would have heard it making noise with its hooves on the wooden floor, and that would certainly not sound like bubbling noises, the kind of noise that came from copper tubes in beakers.

Her curiosity was not satisfied because Trey inched the door open and quickly slipped inside, his body blocking any view. He then poked his head out and said sheepishly, “Good night. Sorry to disturb you.” And with that he shut the door in her face.

Chevonne was left to wonder what in the world was going on with her husband. Had he lost his mind?

T
rey looked
out the barn door and rubbed his hand through his hair as he watched the sun rise over the eastern section of the ranch.

Had he really claimed the crash in his study last night was made by a goat?

Had he lost his mind?

Had Chevonne believed him?

The look on her face when he’d told that whopper told him she’d thought he was crazy. And now, this morning, he couldn’t even face her. He didn’t know what to say to her, which was why he was saddling up his horse and heading into town to pick up some chemicals for his project.

He needed time to think.

Chevonne was smart. She knew something strange was going on in the study, but that wasn’t his real problem. His real problem was that, judging by the way his body reacted whenever he was close to her, he was not going to be able to stop himself from kissing her and wanting to maker her his real wife.

But he didn’t feel right about that while keeping his project a secret from her. It would be like a big lie between them which he knew in the long run would ruin everything. But he didn’t want to tell her about it until he had something concrete to show her. He didn’t want her to think he was a failure.

Too bad last night’s experiments had resulted in a solution that was only marginally better than before. The crash that had interrupted their kiss was a testament to that.

As he rode away from the ranch, he glanced back at the house. Upstairs, Chevonne was still asleep. He wondered what she would think of him when she awoke. He’d shut the door in her face after telling her he had a goat in his room.

A goat!

What had he been thinking?

He wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to pack her things and leave. The thought of that made his heart break. The last thing he wanted was for Chevonne to leave.

Suddenly, he realized how desperately he wanted her to stay, and how desperately he wanted her to be his real wife and partner ... in every way. He wanted that even more than he wanted to keep his project a secret from her.

Trey almost turned around and rode back to the ranch to tell her, but the new chemicals that he was on the way to pick up might be the very thing that would finally work. It would be much better to tell her once he had them and he could show her his successful experiment. Or they could do the experiment together.

Yes, he would tell her as soon as he got back.

Trey tapped his heels against his horse and it raced toward town.

T
he house was
quiet when Chevonne awoke. She stayed in bed and admired the view from her window. But then the events of the previous evening returned to her.

She listened carefully but she heard no bubbling noises. There were no glass beakers smashing. And certainly no goats were dancing on the wooden floors.

What had Trey been up to last night? She didn’t believe for a second his explanation of a pet goat in the study. Why would he say that? Maybe he had someone in there? Who?

Thoughts of Phinneas Gulch passed through her mind, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why Trey would be hiding him in the study—unless they were having some secret meeting and he didn’t want her to see the thief.

Chevonne had a sudden urge to pound the life out of some bread dough.

She got up and quickly performed her toilette. When dressed and more than ready for some hard work in the kitchen, she went downstairs.

Standing at the foot of the stairs, she glanced toward the study door. It was, of course, closed. She resisted the urge to creep down and listen at the door, instead turning abruptly and heading for the kitchen, praying she wouldn’t find Trey there.

The sun slanted through the windows above the sink, painting the pine table in a wash of light which illuminated a note in the middle. Chevonne picked up the plain paper. In watery ink were the words, ‘Gone to town, be back later. Don’t hold breakfast.’

“I wonder what he would have to go to town for?” she asked out loud. “Goat feed?”

She had to admit she was glad Trey wasn’t home. He’d acted so strangely last night that she wasn’t sure what to say to him this morning.

Chevonne pushed everything from her mind and focused on the tasks at hand. First she went to every room in the house, except Trey’s locked study, and closed the windows and lowered the shades to keep the house cool.

In the kitchen, she decided to have just some coffee and bread to keep her hunger at bay while she worked. She’d make fresh bread, a rhubarb pie, maybe a pudding and another sauce. Perhaps she’d churn butter. All the activity would certainly keep her upsetting thoughts at bay.

At least she hoped it would.

She set out everything she needed, filling every counter and tabletop in the kitchen, then set to work in a flurry of intense activity.

Chevonne barely flinched when Luke arrived mid-morning with supplies from the ranch. She poured him a cup of coffee and handed him the last cinnamon-current rolls then continued with her work.

He watched her in silence while he munched away. When done with the rolls, he poured himself another cup of coffee and watched her some more with a smirk on his face.

Could he know there was trouble in the newlyweds’ home? Of course he could. She suspected that quiet Luke knew everything about everything on the ranch.

Chevonne ignored the old ranch hand and continued with her whirlwind of kitchen work. She made Mrs. Gillette and Mrs. Harland proud.

One memory from the evening before returned more often than any other through the activity. It was of the deliciously tingly feeling she’d felt when she’d thought Trey was going to kiss her. She’d wanted him to, more than anything. That thought nearly caused her to burn a few things.

The other thought that intruded often was of what was going on in the study and why was he hiding it from her? That thought gave her extra strength when punching the bread dough, which brought a chuckle from Luke. Or had she muttered something aloud about goats?

Was Luke still there? Yes, and he was still munching on something.

The thought that maybe Trey wasn’t everything she’d thought he was, was the most disturbing one. Were all his good bits all in her imagination?

Trey didn’t
seem
like the kind of husband that expected her to just keep house but the way he acted last night coupled with his comments after church had her wondering.

A mixing bowl nearly broke under her butter beating when she wondered why she was good enough to kiss but not good enough to show what he had in the study.

She had always considered herself to be practical, ruled by common sense, but in this case she was afraid she might have let her heart rule. She couldn’t afford to make that mistake. She’d be wise to steer clear of Trey Garner and his locked room and focus on her plan.

When Chevonne came to that decision, she paused in her work to catch her breath. She saw that Luke was gone, along with the last of the molasses cake. Right. She’d make an old-fashioned sponge cake with peach-cream filling and gelatin frosting. That would keep her mind from straying.

She set out everything she needed and set to work with renewed determination to keep all thoughts out of her head of Trey Garner... and his supposed goat.

T
rey tied
his horse’s leather reins over the hitching post and headed toward the apothecary. His mind was preoccupied with rehearsing for the hundredth time just exactly what he was going to say to Chevonne when he got back to the ranch... to explain the goat remark.

“Yoo-hoo, Trey!”

He stopped short and turned. Dang it! Sarah Perkins was sashaying down the walkway toward him. What was she doing out and about in town so early?

He dipped his head and touched his hat brim. “Mornin’.”

“Morning. I see you’re up early today.” She stopped very close to him.

He backed up a step. Her eye had a predatory gleam that he didn’t like.

Sarah asked with seeming innocence, “Are you here to pick up the mail for your wife?”

“Huh?” Trey’s eyes narrowed as they drifted toward the post office. What was she talking about? Chevonne hadn’t mentioned anything about any mail.

“Isn’t your wife expecting an important letter?”

“Maybe. I’m heading to the apothecary. Nice seeing you.” Trey turned to leave.

Sarah grabbed his arm. “Don’t tell me she didn’t tell you.”

Doubt niggled in Trey’s mind. Sarah clearly had some information and Trey had a feeling it was something important. He didn’t have patience for her silly games, though. He looked down at her and demanded to know, “Sarah, what in tarnation are you talking about?”

Sarah’s face relaxed into an expression of supreme satisfaction. “I ran into Chevonne in the post office the other day and it seemed like she was sending a letter,” she lowered her voice, “and didn’t want anyone to know.” Sarah’s eyes went wide, her mouth formed an ‘o’ and then her hand flew up to cover it. “I do hope I didn’t give away a secret.”

Trey snapped out reflexively, “My wife and I don’t have any secrets.” Well, not except the one he was keeping in his study.

“Oh, good.” Sarah turned away and took two steps then turned back. She said loudly, “Then you know she wrote to the U.S. Patent Office.”

Trey felt like he’d punched in the face by the annoying woman. Patent Office? Why would Chevonne be writing there? “What? Are you sure?” he stammered.

Sarah’s lips curled into an ugly smile. “Why, of course. She said it was right important, too. You can double check with Myron. He looked up the address for her.”

Trey turned his gaze on the post office. He strode off in that direction, his trip to the apothecary and irritating Sarah Perkins all but forgotten.

Why would Chevonne be writing to the Patent Office?

He could think of only one reason—she was about to steal his ideas and patent them before he had a chance to do it himself.