Heartbreak Creek (20 page)

“Doing what?”

Instead of answering, he pushed his empty plate away and turned to Lucinda at the end of the table. “Do you have a room I could rent?”

Edwina almost dropped her fork. Reacting was one thing. Acting on it was an entirely different thing altogether. Heat rushed into her face. She couldn’t catch her breath and the urge to flee almost overwhelmed her.

“A room? Certainly,” Lucinda said. “How many would you like?”

“Just one for Edwina and Miss Lincoln.”

What?
Edwina blinked, her mind swirling in confusion. “But what about you?” she blurted out. Then horrified by what she’d said, she quickly added, “And the children? And”—unable to recall a single name, she waved vaguely in the direction of the men staring at her from the far end of the table—“And them?”

The Indian fellow was grinning, his gaze darting from Declan to Edwina and back to Declan again. “Ho,” he said softly.

Declan shifted in his chair. “I’ve made other arrangements for the family.”

Other arrangements? What other arrangements?
“But . . . ?” Edwina stared at him, the unfinished thought hanging in the air. Arrangements where? And why weren’t she and Pru included? Weren’t they part of the family, too?

But before Edwina could ask him that, Lucinda said, “We have plenty of rooms available, Mr. Brodie. Take as many as you need. As my guests, of course.”

Realizing her mistake, Edwina felt more heat rise in her cheeks, embarrassed that in her ignorance of her husband’s financial situation, she might have put Declan on the spot.

“I appreciate the offer, ma’am. But I had a house here once. If it’s still usable, we’ll stay there.”

And before Edwina could question him further, he pushed back his chair and rose. Immediately, the other men followed suit. “Thank you, ma’am, for this fine meal. Now if you’ll excuse us, Miss Hathaway, ladies, we have horses to tend and children to get situated.”

“Of course, Mr. Brodie.”

“Good night, then.” And without a backward glance, he ushered his children and the other men from the room.

To Edwina, it felt like a slap in the face.

As soon as the door closed behind them, she threw her napkin down beside her plate with enough vigor to rattle her teacup. “Can you believe that? He all but said he didn’t want anything to do with us, didn’t he, Pru? ‘I’ve made other arrangements for the family,’ ” she mimicked. “What are we, barnyard animals?”

“Now, Edwina,” Pru began.

Lucinda cut her off. “It did seem rather odd—”

“See, Pru!”

“—especially after the way he stared at you throughout the meal.”

Edwina blinked. Then discounted the notion. “Ha!” She’d been sitting right beside him and had noticed no such thing. “If he looked at me at all, it was probably with disapproval. I gutted a chicken, for heaven’s sake! What more do I have to do?”

“Chicken gutting always worked for me,” Lucinda quipped.

“As I recall,” Maddie said with a smile, that dreamy look in her eyes, “Angus reacted rather well to something sheer. Maybe a touch of lace here and there. Nothing too revealing, of course.”

“It’s me.” Battling an urge to weep, Edwina planted her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. “Men have never found me attractive. Probably because I’m not pointy.”

“Pointy?”

“Here we go,” Pru murmured.

“Well, look.” Dropping her hands, Edwina puffed out her meager bosom. “What man would be attracted to a woman who looks like a boy?”

Lucinda started to laugh, then stifled it when Maddie sent her a stern look. “You don’t look like a boy, dear.”

“Shelly thought so. He said I looked like a stick.”

“He would,” Pru muttered.

Edwina glared at her half sister. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Pru could answer, Maddie hastily cut in. “Oh, I’m certain Shelly found you attractive. I’m sure he loved you to distraction.”

“Oh, Lord.” Edwina dropped her head into her hands again. She didn’t have to look up to feel the glances pass between the others. Dimly she heard the scrape of chairs and knew they were coming to console her. The flat-bosomed, unalluring, pitiful creature that she was.

“After all,” Maddie crooned, taking Declan’s chair and slipping an arm around Edwina’s shoulder, “he did take you to wife, didn’t he?”

Edwina sniffed behind her hands. “More or less.”

A pause. “Either he did or he didn’t, dear.”

“Or tried and couldn’t,” Lucinda added from her left.

“Or found me so unattractive, he got it over with as soon as he could.” Unable to hold back the tears, Edwina grabbed her napkin and pressed it to her leaking eyes. “What am I doing wrong?” she wailed. “Why don’t men want me? First Shelly, and now Declan. What’s wrong with me?”

“It isn’t you,” Pru said, her tone more angry than sympathetic. “It’s them.”

Edwina laughed brokenly. “Of course it is. One man could hardly consummate our marriage and the other won’t even try. It must be them.”

“You mean . . . you and Mr. Brodie haven’t . . .”

“I insisted on a three-month delay so we could get to know one another. So, no, Maddie, we haven’t. Which is just fine with me, I assure you.”

“You don’t want to consummate your marriage?”

“Why would I?” Edwina blew her nose, wadded the napkin into a ball, and tucked it beside her plate. “It was awful with Shelly, and I’m in no rush to repeat the experience. Although it would be nice to know Declan actually
wanted
to . . . you know . . . even if he couldn’t.”

“You’re priceless.” With a sigh, Lucinda rose and began scraping the plates. “You don’t want him to take you to bed, but you do want him to want to take you to bed. What are you going to do when he finally does?”

Irritated by the condescending tone, Edwina swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, took a deep breath, and hiked her chin. “I am not a coward, Lucinda. I will do my duty.”

“Your duty.” Lucinda began stacking the dirty dishes.

Muttering under her breath, Pru rose and joined her.

Maddie continued to pat Edwina’s shoulder. “You must have had a ghastly experience with your first husband, dear. I’m so sorry. For all his shortcomings, at least Angus did that right.”

“It wasn’t Shelly’s fault. I just wasn’t that attractive to him, I guess.”

“Oh, for Lord’s sake!” Dishes clattered back to the table as Pru whirled, hands planted on her hips. “This is ridiculous. I promised Shelly I wouldn’t say anything, but I cannot allow you to do this a moment longer.”

“Do what?”

“Blame yourself.” Pru took a deep breath, then said in a rush, “The reason you weren’t attractive to Shelly is because you weren’t a man!”

Silence. Then Maddie’s soft whisper. “Does that mean—”

“I wondered,” Lucinda said thoughtfully. “With a name like Shelly, one would.”

Edwina blinked at her sister, trying to make sense of her words. “You mean . . . Shelly . . .”

“Was a weak sister, yes!” Pru threw her hands up in exasperation. “Didn’t you ever wonder at his close friendship with Frederick?”

Edwina rocked back. “Frederick, too?”

“How does that work, I wonder?” Maddie asked Lucinda. “Two men. Together. How would they go about that?”

“Maddie, please!”

“It’s a natural curiosity.”

“Save it for later.”

Edwina continued to stare at her sister, shock and disbelief swelling into such a sense of betrayal she thought she might vomit. “Why didn’t you tell me, Pru?” she demanded in a wobbly voice. “Why didn’t Shelly tell me? Why would you let me marry a man who didn’t love me?”

“He did love you.” Looking as if she might cry, too, Pru sank into the chair Lucinda had vacated. She took Edwina’s hand in both of hers. “Just not in the way a man loves a woman.”

Edwina felt fury build as memories flashed through her mind. The ceremony, the toasts, the forced smiles and sly looks. Had everyone known but her?

Shelly had seemed so desperate to have her, but without the joy or tenderness she had expected. It had been an awkward, almost frantic coupling. And afterward, tears. For both of them. Hers, from regret and shame and embarrassment. His, she had assumed, from disappointment or because he would be marching off to war in just a few hours.

Damn him. Damn Pru
. Why hadn’t they told her? Said something? Acid burned in her throat.
All those years.
“You let me think it was me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Emotion swirled in her mind. How could they do that to her? She wanted to scream and claw her chest open so the pain could get out. All those years wasted in regret and self-doubt. All those years thinking there was something wrong with her.
Damn them.

She jerked her hand free of her sister’s grip. “You should have told me, Pru.” She wanted to slap her. Hurt her back. “You let me believe it was all my fault when it wasn’t. Why would you do that to me? Why?” She watched tears fill her sister’s eyes, slide down to fall in fat drops on the tablecloth, and was glad her sister was in pain, too.

“I thought that deep down you knew. You loved him. He loved you. I thought it would be enough.”

“You were wrong.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh stop, please,” Maddie cried, her own face wet with tears. “You mustn’t do this to each other. Prudence, tell her you’re sorry. Edwina, say you forgive her.”

“Hush, Maddie,” Lucinda snapped. “This is a good thing.”

Edwina reared back to glare at her. “Good?”

“Yes. Because now you have no need to fear your new husband.”

“I don’t fear Declan.”

“Oh?” Leaning down, Lucinda planted her hands on the table across from the other three ladies. She leveled her green gaze at Edwina. “Then why haven’t you allowed him into your bed? Why are you insisting on this silly three-month waiting period? Why are you just pretending to be a wife, rather than actually being one?” She straightened and let her hands fall to her sides. “You’re afraid, that’s why. You think making love to Declan will be as disappointing and awkward as making love to Shelly was.”

Maddie nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense. If Angus hadn’t been so arduous and skilled and—”

“Please, Maddie. Not now.”

“Sorry.” The petite Englishwoman gave Edwina’s shoulder a quick hug. “But she’s right, Edwina. This is a good thing. Because now you can open yourself to your husband without regret or fear.”

“A lamentable choice of words,” Lucinda muttered.

Maddie ignored the comment. “You do want to, don’t you, Edwina? Open yourself to Declan? Because I can assure you in the right man’s hands, you will have no regrets or disappointments.”

Edwina felt heat rush into her face just thinking about it. “And what about him? What if he’s the one disappointed?”

“Then we shall just have to make sure he isn’t.” Maddie laughed in delight. “Oh this will be such fun! By the end of the shivaree tomorrow night, I promise you, dear Edwina, your handsome bull of a husband will be pawing at the dirt to get at you.”

“Gads.” Lucinda gave a mock shudder. “You’re supposed to be encouraging her, Maddie, not scaring the stuffings out of her.”

Considering Declan’s size, it was a rather frightful image, Edwina thought. But interesting . . .

“How is your head?”

Looking over from the fence rail he’d been leaning on, Declan saw Thomas walking toward him. Sneaking would be more like it. Despite his solid build, the man’s tread made as much noise as a mouse tiptoeing across a feather quilt.

“What’s wrong with my head?”

Thomas stopped beside him. His teeth flashed white in the faint moonlight. “If she had a war ax, it would be stuck in it.”

Declan snorted. Turning back, he crossed his arms along the top rail of the paddock and watched the horses root in their piles of hay for the tastiest leaves. “Nothing new in that.”

“Ho. Then I am sorry
, nesene’
. It is not good when a man must share his tipi with a woman he does not like.”

“Who said I didn’t like her?”

Continuing as if Declan hadn’t spoken, Thomas added, “But it is probably best. She is too skinny. A man needs something to hold on to on long, cold nights.”

“She’s not too skinny.” In fact, Declan thought Ed might have gained a pound or two. Either that, or she was less pinch-faced and anxious than when she’d first come. Until tonight, that is, when he had botched everything with that “family” comment. He’d known he was in trouble the minute he saw her face. Ed wasn’t much for hiding her emotions. But he’d thought she would be pleased to stay and visit with her friends. And anyway, he hadn’t known the condition of the house then and didn’t want her thinking she had to spend half the night cleaning it up.

Still. He probably could have handled it better.
Hell.

Down the road, a single window glowed in Jeb Kendal’s small log house. Another light bobbed past as a carriage rolled by, its harness chains jangling in rhythm to trotting hoofbeats. From across the creek came the distant plinking of a piano, barely heard over the rush of water. All reminders that he was back in town.