Destiny's Bride (32 page)

He lowered her face, but before he kissed her, she pulled from his embrace and walked to the basin. “At least let me get some of this dirt off.” She dipped the washcloth in the cool water and scrubbed her face and neck.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror above the basin, she gasped.. “I look terrible.” Wayward strands of hair hung loosely around her sun-baked face. The dark circles ringing her swollen eyes displayed her tiredness. “I’m so embarrassed to have you see me like this.”

He walked closer, his reflection showing above hers. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You never looked more beautiful.”

Was he looking at the same person she saw in the mirror?

“I’m so tired and….” A yawn engulfed the rest of her sentence.

“When you finish washing up, why don’t you lay down and rest for a while? While you sleep, I can wash your clothes for you.” He held out a clean shirt. “Put this on.”

“You won’t think I’m rude if I take a nap?” The idea really appealed to her.

“I’ve waited this long. I don’t think another hour or so will kill me.”

Cecile glanced down at her dust-covered clothing. Despite comfort at undressing before Lone Eagle, she suddenly became modest with Walt. Besides, how would she explain the shirt binding her chest. “You know, I’m so tired, I think I’ll just sleep in my clothes.”

“Come on, Cecile. Your clothes are covered with dust. Surely you’ll feel better in freshly-laundered clothes and a clean bed.” He turned his back to her and pulled back the covers.

She quickly removed her dirty shirt, binding, and grabbed the sweet-smelling one he’d draped on the chair. She wrapped it around her body and buttoned it as fast as she could, before dropping her pants. She held her breath, hoping this wasn’t only a ploy to get her into bed.

Walt led her to the bed and fluffed the large floral-cased pillow. “Your nap awaits.”

She perched on the soft, downy featherbed and stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.  Walt walked over, brushed her hair back, and kissed her forehead. 

She held her breath.

“Sweet dreams,” he called out as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

She released her breath and scrambled beneath the cool sheets.  Maybe when she awoke, she’d discover everything was just a dream.

***

Cecile opened her eyes, disoriented and wondering where she was until she replayed things in her mind. She remembered. This was Walt’s room. How long had she slept?

She stretched her arms over her head and yawned, surveying a room lit only by the pink and orange flow of the setting sun. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she spied Walt sitting on the small sofa.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes. Much. Thanks for letting me sleep. I needed it.” She sat and cocked her head. “Did you sit there and watch me sleep the entire time?”

He reached over and lit the lamp, then handed her a bundle. “No, I ran some errands and did some shopping. I hope you still like my taste.”

She tore into the paper wrapping, pleasantly surprised to see a new outfit, complete with all the necessary undergarments he'd once referred to as female trappings. Folded underneath the dress, she discovered a modest cotton nightdress. She crushed the garments to her chest. “Thank you. You seem to have thought of everything.” Chuckling, she added, “I suppose you noticed I need them.”

“It’s nice to hear you laugh again, Cece. I missed hearing that.”

There was a knock on the door. Outside, Mrs. Riley held a bucket of hot water which Walt quickly took. “You shouldn’t be carrying something so heavy up the stairs.”

“Oh pshaw, I’ve carried youngins’ who weighed more. There’s another pail downstairs, ready and waiting.”

From the curtained closet, Walt pulled out a sculpted tin bathtub and dumped the bucket of steaming hot water into it.

“Goodness, I’ve never seen such a contraption.” Cecile stared at the round bottom resembling a washtub, but noted the one side raised and shaped into a backrest of sorts. “What will they think of next?”

“I ordered it from a catalog and had it shipped cross country.”  Mrs. Riley rested clutched hands on her belly, pride showing on her face.

“I thought you might appreciate trying it out,” Walt added.

“Boy, would I! Besides my sore and aching muscles, my hair has a week’s worth of dust in it.”

Walt followed Mrs. Riley downstairs to fetch the second bucket while Cecile sat in bed, clutching his shirt around her.

He returned and added more water, then pulled a tiny vial from his pocket, poured it into the bathtub and swished it around. Bubbles formed and the fragrant scent of honeysuckle filled the air. “I picked this up at the mercantile while I was there. That sweet smell always reminds me of our first kiss on your front porch.”

Cecile melted at the memory. That kiss seemed like a lifetime ago.

Walt left her to bathe. She heaved a sigh, since she wasn’t comfortable disrobing in front of him and she didn’t want to have to ask him to go. Things had sure changed. She remembered when she couldn’t wait to undress for him. Why did she feel so awkward?

Cecile got out of bed and stripped off Walt’s shirt, and then slipped into the bubbly warmth, sliding as far down as she could to let the hot water soothe her body. She rested her head on the back of the tub and wiggled her toes to pop the bubbles that formed on top of the water. She wanted to relax, but kept thinking Walt might waltz back into the room at any moment.

She inhaled and slid her entire body beneath the surface. When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she came up for air. Rivulets of water ran down her face as she twisted the ends of her auburn tresses to wring out the excess. She scrubbed her body all over, letting the sweet smell of honeysuckle seep into every pore and strand of hair.

Finished, she stepped out of the tub onto a small latch-hooked rug, grabbed the towel Walt had left on the bed, and dried thoroughly. Her stomach growled in response to the delicious aroma seeping beneath the bedroom door. She hadn’t eaten in hours.

She surveyed the undergarments that were once a familiar part of her daily attire. A long time had passed since she wore anything similar. As she put on the stiff petticoat, she was reminded of its discomfort. She missed her soft doeskin dress.

Cecile pulled the emerald green dress over her head and dropped it over her petticoat. Standing back, she surveyed as much of herself as she could in the small mirror over the basin. She ran a brush through her long, damp hair and pulled it back into the pretty ribbon Walt bought to match the dress. He remembered a ribbon, but not shoes. She had nothing other than the old, scuffed boots she’d worn there. She’d become accustomed to wearing moccasins that felt like going barefoot, so what was the difference. She wasn’t about to wear those old scuffed boots with such a beautiful dress. The gown was long enough to hide her shoeless feet and she was starving.

She took one last look in the mirror. The redness had disappeared from her eyes, and the warmth of the bath had brought color back to her cheeks. Ready to savor whatever created such wonderful smells, she started down for dinner. At the top of the stairs, she paused and took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever the evening brought. Her damp feet clung to each step as she went down to join Walt and Mrs. Riley.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Following the delicious aroma of warm bread and freshly baked apple pie, Cecile found her way to the dining room. It had been a very long time since she smelled such wonderful treats, and she certainly hadn’t prepared any. She thought back to the bland meals she prepared for Lone Eagle and wondered why he always ate with such gusto. She’d learned to like rabbit stew and soups made with wild roots and vegetables, but somehow the aromas were never quite as tantalizing.

For a fleeting moment she pictured Lone Eagle, camped for the night, sitting in front of the fire, a freshly caught rabbit cooking on a spit. She shook her head to clear the vision and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She’d expected to miss him a great deal but not to the point of feeling hollow inside.

Mrs. Riley already sat at the table, and Walt, like a true gentleman, stood behind an empty chair, waiting for Cecile to sit.

“Thank you, sir.” She forced a smile, took her seat and smoothed her dress, creating a place on her lap for the pretty yellow napkin lying next to her dinner plate. “Mrs. Riley, dinner smells delicious.”

“Thank you. I hope you find everything to your liking.”

Cecile couldn’t get enough of the wonderful yeast rolls with fresh butter and clover honey. The pot roast melted in her mouth, and she piled a second helping of mashed potatoes and gravy on her plate.

Walt cocked his head and stared at her heaped plate. “Cece, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you eat so much!”

“Everything tastes so wonderful.” She wiped a dribble of butter from her chin and finished her last gulp of milk. With a sigh, she leaned back and placed her napkin on her empty plate.

Walt laughed. “Mrs. Riley, I assure you my wife doesn’t eat this much all the time.”

At the mention of “wife,” Cecile stiffened. While she slept, Walt must have told Mrs. Riley about their relationship. It’d been a long time since Cecile had thought of herself as Mrs. Walt Williams. Given the circumstances, she wondered if she still was.

Mrs. Riley rose and started to clean the table. “Why don’t you two young people make yourself comfortable in the living room?”

“Mrs. Riley, let me help you,” Cecile offered.

“I can manage just fine. You just run along. I’m sure you want to make up for lost time with that handsome husband of yours.”

“All right, if you’re sure I can’t help you.” Cecile reluctantly joined Walt in the living room.

***

Walt pulled her close and inhaled deeply the honeysuckle scent in her hair. “You look beautiful, Cece. I’ve missed you so much.”

The look in his eyes revealed the hunger and passion he felt. “How about some dessert?” He bent to claim her lips in a passionate kiss, but she pulled away and held him at arm’s length. “Walt, what would Mrs. Riley think if she walked in?”

“She’d probably think I was kissing my wife.” He laughed and added, “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I suppose I can wait till we’re alone in our own room.”

Cecile winced at his hinted intimacy. How could she pretend to be his wife when her heart ached for Lone Eagle? There had to be a way to avoid sharing Walt’s bed.

Walt snapped his fingers to bring her thoughts back to the moment. “Cece… Cecile, where are you? Your mind is a hundred miles away. I was just asking if you felt up to continuing with your story.”

He sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. There was no escaping. The story had to be told sooner or later, and although she preferred never, she had to tell him what he wanted to know. She preferred to stand, and leaned against the mantle. “Where did I leave off? Oh yes, I remember. I was telling you how scared I was and how I was too naïve and useless to find help.”

She started to pick up where she left off when Mrs. Riley popped her head in the doorway. “Goodnight, you two. I’m off to bed so you can have your privacy. Have a lovely evening.”

“Good night, Mrs. Riley, and thank you for the great meal.” Immediately Walt’s focus was back on Cecile. The welcome interruption ended far too soon.

She took a big breath and started once again. “Several days passed and you hadn’t come home. I was frantic with worry and scared to death. You hadn’t told me exactly how many days you would be gone, but when you didn’t come back for such a long time, I knew something was wrong. Then I started worrying about me. I couldn’t even get to anyone to tell them you where missing. A lot of help I was.” She took another breath before continuing. “One day, I heard a noise and thought you’d come home. Before I could even react, an Indian burst through the front door and collapsed right in front of me. I was terrified!

Walt’s mouth gaped.

“When I finally gathered enough courage to touch him, I thought for sure he was dead. I rolled him over, and all I saw was blood. He’d been wounded. When I felt a pulse, I knew I had to do something to help him, so I cleaned his wounds the best I knew how and took care of him until he got better. His name is Lone Eagle. He is Sioux.”

When she paused, the silence was deafening.

“It took several days for Lone Eagle to recuperate,” she continued. “I pretty much had to nurse him around the clock. When he regained consciousness, he told me how he got wounded. His accounting of what happened included a description of a man that matched you perfectly, complete with wagon, horses, and supplies. He told me how he tried to help you when you were ambushed. The last thing he recalled was waking up wounded, to find everyone gone. Do you remember him?”

“No. Just three men riding into my camp.” He cupped his chin and gave a slight shake of his head.

“His story was too much of a coincidence, and when Lone Eagle described what had taken place, I feared you dead and when you didn’t come back to me….” Tears of remembrance rimmed her eyes, and she struggled to find the right words. “He…Lone Eagle stayed and helped me deal with the shock of losing you. When time came for him to leave, he refused to abandon me. He didn’t want to leave me all alone, especially since I….” Her voice cracked and tears spilled down her cheeks.