His Haunted Heart (8 page)

“You don’t like it.” I came to the conclusion right away.

“I love it, Porter. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” Her voice didn’t falter—her words rang true.

Her fingers, cold and slim, shook when I took her hand and pushed the ring onto her finger. The fit was perfect.

“I have one too,” I told her for no good reason.

I showed it to her for a brief second and then fit it over the top of my finger to show her my commitment to the deal we were silently making for the second time.

“No, let me.” Her eyes widened.

“Sure.”

She pushed it into my ring finger and then turned it around a few times for good measure. I thought to call in my favor—to ask her to taste the lips that I’d watched talk and laugh the whole day through.

No, I would hold onto it.

Because when and if Delilah Jeansonne ever kissed me it would be of her own free will.

Chapter Seven

Delilah

The first thing I felt the next morning was not the pull of a yawn in my throat or the sting of morning’s first light—it was the new weight wound around my ring finger.

I’d been afraid to breathe too heavily the night before of fear that it might just all fall apart.

I stayed under the covers with my eyes closed, allowing the fantasy to relive itself in my mind over and over until the promise of the day’s events pried me from them.

Excuse after excuse popped into my head, explaining and rationalizing his behavior—his words—the glint in his eyes.

He was drunk.

He was caught in a fit of temporary insanity.

He’d been infected by the plague and the fever was frying his brain.

It went on and on until I’d convinced myself it was all a farce.

I’d mentally declared it was time to put my thoughts aside and rise from the bed, determined to make this day anew instead of merely trying to extend that night.

That’s when I felt it. A touch on my hand, so light and gentle that if not for the coldness it contained, I would’ve blamed it on a draft. My body stilled—including my heart.

My eyes roamed the room against the will of my body, searching for the owner of a touch that could chill me to the bone. I saw nothing. Bits of dust floated in the air, the sunlight peering through the splice in the curtains making it look like tiny angels.

Yet no one was in my room and nothing could explain the touch I’d felt.

A giggle broke free of my mouth; what a silly thing to get scared over. The sheets had probably just brushed over the top of my hand.

I heard noises below, making me think the house helpers were busy with their day. It made me feel lazy and useless.

After choosing an empire-waist burgundy dress, I pulled open the wardrobe to get my new boots. Next to them were almost a half-dozen other pairs, all in different colors and skins.

This was ridiculous.

Porter was spoiling the wrong girl.

I chose the same pair of boots he’d given me the night before in order to circumvent a discussion about them. This way I could pretend that I hadn’t seen the others.

I just hoped to God that he didn’t ask me. I wasn’t a very good liar.

After brushing out my hair and bundling it into a bun that made a few locks fall along the side of my face, I walked downstairs, bound and determined to make myself useful, setting my childish fantasies aside for the third time that morning.

Pushing open the swinging door between the entryway and the kitchen, I heard the voices of my breakfast company from the day before.

“There she is. Just in time.” I denied the flop of my heart at the absence of Porter. A good night’s sleep had probably woken him up and cleared his head.

Or his fever broke.

Or he took a pill for his temporary insanity.

“I’m sorry. I slept a little too well.”

Though I was told that my mother in law would be leaving the day after we were married, I was glad she’d never left.

Eliza patted my shoulder and handed me a platter of breakfast, gesturing with her finger for me to bring it to the dining room. I ate in silence, sipping the lemony tea made entirely too sweet for my taste and listening to the chatter of the older women of the house.

“He doesn’t eat breakfast. It’s just his way.”

I looked up to find June had predicted the reason for my wordless behavior.

“I remember.”

“Looks to me like he gave you a lot to think about.” She gestured to my ring finger, holding up her own.

“There’s nothing to think about. It’s done.”

June and Eliza exchanged a glance.

That morning, I was allowed to help with the dishes under the protests of June throughout the process. I had to find ways to occupy my time, didn’t she understand that?

“What’s that noise?” Before I could register the noise Eliza referred to, she answered her own question. “Get Porter, now June, like the devil is on your heels.”

I dried off my hands while Eliza shuffled us both toward the back of the house, near Porter’s office.

“You decide what to do here. No one is forcing you to do anything.”

I opened my mouth to question her state of panic, but Porter entered the hallway before I could.

“Mother, June, stay in my office or the kitchen. Keep your ears open. Delilah, you come with me.”

Grabbing my hand, he practically dragged me into the foyer and went about straightening his shirt and giving me a once-over.

“What is going on?” I found my voice and demanded an answer.

“Your parents are here. I suspected that they would show up. Your father hinted to the fact that the money I gave him might not be enough. I didn’t think it would be this quick or I would’ve gotten you out of here.”

I shuddered at his first sentence. The rest of his words blurred out.

“You gave him money? You bought me?”

This wasn’t the time or the place to be angry, but damn it all to hell if I wasn’t furious.

At the same time I understood and was grateful.

“Listen to me.” Porter grabbed my shoulder with one hand and centered my chin with the other, his thumb and forefinger grabbing it. “This is your home. You are my wife. They cannot do anything to harm you here or I will show them the meaning of abuse. You do not belong to them anymore.”

Finally coming to my senses, I grabbed his hands and implored him. “If you give them more money, they’ll never stop.”

A smile brought one side of his mouth up and the hand which was holding my chin left mine and cupped my left cheek—the one with the scar. “I know. Thank you.”

I stared at him; his gray eyes held the same caress as the night before. For a tick of a second, his gaze moved down my lips. I tucked them in on instinct, uncomfortable with the insinuations my mind was making about his change.

But completely curious at the same time.

His thumb left my face and trailed a frustrating path along my already sensitive bottom lip.

“Another time, Delilah.”

The sounds of horses snapped him out of our moment and into another mode. He held my hand and I trailed behind him while he surveyed the situation from a window.

“Your sisters and their husbands are here as well. Run and get my mother and June. Tell June to get tea ready and I want my mother with us to distract from any confrontation. Go!”

I did what I was told. It was the one thing I was good at.

“He says to get tea ready and Eliza, you’re wanted with us. The whole family is here.”

Eliza groaned. “Haven’t they done enough damage? The gall of these people. Oh, sorry dear.”

“Please don’t apologize. I’ve said many a worse word about them inside my head.”

We circumvented the niceties and went into the parlor and stoked the fire, ready for my wretched family’s descent on what was otherwise a piece of heaven.

“Look at me, child.”

My mother-in-law was dead serious.

“These people are visitors in your home—
your
home. They cannot make you feel like they did before without your permission. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to my Porter. A mother knows these things.”

She winked at me at the same time I heard the front door open. I fisted the bunching of fabric on my lap at the sound of my father’s cantankerous cackle.

Porter led the pack into the sitting room. Eliza and I rose but I couldn’t make myself meet their eyes.

“What a sight!” my mother heckled.

I kept my eyes firm on my husband. If it weren’t for his wink I wouldn’t have even remembered to breathe.

“Looks like the ugly chit hit the jackpot.” I heard Adele whisper just quiet enough as not to be conceived as rude but loud enough to offend.

“We didn’t expect your visit today. June will be in soon with the tea.”

“You’ve got servants?” my father said, looking around the place like he was assessing the wealth of the wallpaper.

“We have a few—not many. I tend to do a lot of the work myself, though I didn’t want Delilah to be bogged down with cooking or cleaning.”

My left eyebrow pulsed toward my forehead in disbelief. He’d had the cook and the maid long before my arrival.

“Well, it must be nice to have people to help with the housework. My wrists and knuckles are always swollen from the amount of scrubbing it takes to keep my home in pristine condition.”

I tried not to snicker the best way I knew how, by grinding my lips between my teeth.

Adele was sitting in the vicinity of Porter, and by vicinity, I meant four feet across the room, but with her complaint she jutted her hands out for visual proof of her work habits.

“I see that.” But instead of her batting eyelashes reeling him in, he took a quick look from his seat and then reached over to take my hand in his.

I felt the stress drain from my body at once.

“This house must have many rooms. I’d love to see them.”

My mother was a liar. She didn’t want to see the rooms at all or make sure that I hadn’t been kidnapped and taken to the dungeon of a snake lair.

She wanted to see what Porter was worth, assessing him by the stature of his property.

Porter and Eliza shared a look.

“Why don’t we have some tea and then I’d love to show the place to you. I’m sure you want to make sure that the home your daughter is living in is safe and comfortable.”

He’d nailed them to the ground with that one. It was becoming harder and harder for me to keep my composure but his hand squeezing mine was enough to bring me down.

“That would—that would be lovely.”

Never in my life had I heard my mother use the term lovely.

June came in just in time and served everyone tea. I was served first and the looks that were shared between my sisters were vile enough to kill all the lightning bugs in the backyard.

I lifted my eyes to Porter in between sips and he’d taken to conversing with Elaine’s husband about his manure business. After some minutes, my coy husband had even convinced the gangly man that he might be interested in investing in his business.

“How about that tour, Porter, dear? I don’t like to be away from my home for very long at a time.”

Porter never complained or showed one iota of frustration. I realized that what I was seeing was his diplomatic, business side. It was impeccable to be an audience to. He must’ve been able to rob people blind without them even knowing.

“Of course. Please, follow us.”

I stayed seated, gluing my eyes to the tea cup before me. I must’ve looked like I was in a coma, eyes wide open.

“Delilah,” he cooed at me. I looked up to see him holding out his hands, the party of tour goers waiting for him—and he waited on me. After placing my tea cup down, I took his hands. As I stood, he stooped to place a kiss along my brow and though the gesture put me in a bit of a trance, I heard the scoffing come from the direction of one of my sisters—probably the one that had done the slicing.

We conquered the upstairs first. Porter recited the same histories he had for me. I knew which bedroom he occupied after seeing one of the beds with fresh linens, not the ones I remembered seeing before.

“Which one of these is yours?”

I blushed, squeezing Porter’s hand with an embarrassed fury. My sisters had about as much couth as a castrated pig.

“Our bedroom is the other wing, but I prefer to keep that private.”

Adele choked on her drool. “The entire wing?”

“Yes. The entire wing. The rest of downstairs is my office, the library, and the drawing room. Those are not very interesting. Perhaps you’d like to see the outside.”