His Haunted Heart (9 page)

My husband was smart. He was getting them out of the house under the premise of good manners.

“We actually should be going. Our horses seem to spook at night,” Adele’s husband said, plucking a stolen cookie from his pocket.

“Well, it was very nice having you over.”

I thought the situation had been averted, until my father broke away from the pack.

“Porter, might I have a word with you, alone?”

“Sir, anything you say to me can be said in front of my wife. How can I help you?”

“Well, I’m not sure the sum you paid will cover the massive debt we are in because of the strain this one put on our finances after she went so long without being married.”

I focused on my breaths. Inhaling and exhaling was the only thing I could count on. I didn’t dare look at Porter’s face. One look at him—deciding on shoving me back into the carriage they rode in on and demanding a refund for damaged goods—and I’d crackle into pieces and be blown like ashes with the wind.

My pulse bobbed in my temples and a bell rang in my ears.

Waiting—waiting on an almost stranger to decide my fate.

“You’re right, Sir. I could sell everything I own and it wouldn’t afford the blessing that is my wife. Leave the way you came. You won’t get another cent from me. Get inside, Delilah.”

My feet refused to budge.

He must’ve known that I’d turned to a statue because Porter, with a gentle hand, turned me around with his hands on my waist. I didn’t remember getting inside or him sitting me by the fire. I must’ve been some proverbial ice queen. He was always rushing me to warmth.

“Tell me you’re okay, sweetheart.”

I could hear Porter’s voice far away as if he called me from the surface while I was under a pool of water.

“I’m…”

It felt like someone else was moving my mouth for me.

Then I heard my new husband curse. I was lifted onto his lap and rocked in a comforting motion that not even my mother had ever attempted.

He was worried—the words that poured from his mouth dripped with syrupy concern.

“I’m okay,” I was finally able to blurt.

“I would never let them hurt you.”

I nodded and curled in closer to his embrace. His hold on me didn’t falter. From my vantage point I focused on his stern jaw, the one that churned when he was upset about something. It was moving double time.

“Let me go,” I said, wanting to stay in his arms, but also wanting to breathe.

“Of course.” He set me on what he was now calling my chair.

Everything that I’d asked for was coming to fruition and I couldn’t handle it.

“I’d like some coffee.” The request surprised even me. I did want coffee. I thought the spurt of caffeine would shake the flood still washing over me. Porter sprang to action, calling for June while he took long strides toward the kitchen.

I also needed a second to myself to process my parents’ visit.

“Here you go, dear.” Eliza brought out a cup of coffee for me while Porter stayed behind, leaning against the threshold with his arms crossed over his chest.

I waited until Eliza left before turning to him. “Why are you so far away?”

“I thought you might want me to be.”

“No. I never want you far away.”

I meant it. The way he’d protected me against my parents in word and in contact would never cease to amaze me. I’d wished that we’d met another way, but if it took me a lifetime, I’d make sure the money Porter paid for me was well spent. He sat next to me while I took a few sips of the steaming coffee.

“Do you need something else?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m fine now. What were your plans for today?”

“It’s your choice. Did they ruin our day?”

“No. I’m not that fragile, Porter. They shook me up, but I’m fine now—because of you.”

He took my hands and held them tight. “How about a horse ride? Benjamin needs to be ridden daily, and I thought you might want to see the cabin on the outskirts of the property.”

I nodded. “That sounds good. Let me grab a sweater.”

I wasn’t necessarily happy about riding on that beast again, but if my husband enjoyed it, I’d guessed that I should get used to the task. I grabbed a sweater I hadn’t seen before from the wardrobe. It was longer than the other ones and had a tie around the middle. It was a fashion I’d never seen before but as long as it did its job, I really didn’t care.

I’d certainly worn plenty of garments that barely did their job.

“I picked that one myself,” Porter said from the bottom of the stairs. I’d been too busy making my hair cover the side of my face to realize he was waiting for me.

“Thank you—again.”

“Stop thanking me.”

“Stop thanking you and stop saying sorry.”

I was kidding but my remark caused his face to drop in sadness.

“I wasn’t trying to boss you around. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to apologize for anything. And isn’t part of the fun of being a husband getting to buy things for his wife?”

I’d never seen my father have such fun.

“To each his own, I suppose. But when do I get to give you something?”

I’d finally reached the stairs when his hand reached mine. “The things you give me cannot be bought with money, Delilah.”

I hadn’t realized I’d given him anything but a hole in his pockets and a headache.

“Let’s go before it gets too late. It’s already early afternoon.”

My family’s tour of the house must’ve taken longer than I assumed. Then again, I was mostly in a trance the entire time, hoping one of them didn’t try to rustle the curtains under their skirts or produce a knife from one of their purses and try to finish what they’d started on my face—or worse, try to hurt Porter.

We walked out to the stables. When the worn building came into view, I remembered Rebel and his haunting stare. His words had slithered over me like an invisible cobweb. I contained a shiver, but just barely.

“Benjamin doesn’t get ridden very much. He’s fickle and won’t let anyone else ride him.”

He walked into the barns and Benjamin whinnied from the back, letting Porter know he’d been waiting.

“Can you do me a favor? Take this while I saddle him up.”

I took the bag from him. I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying a bag before. I watched as he sweet-talked Benjamin into leaving the stall and gave him a full brushing before saddling the tallest horse I’d ever seen.

Chapter Eight

Porter

On the ride to the cabin, my insides were still shaking from the confrontation with her father. Until the words left my mouth, I hadn’t really planned anything for the day, other than riding Benjamin. Rebel wasn’t in the barn which meant he’d finished his jobs for the day and had flown to his home as soon as possible. He’d never done anything other than the bare minimum.

It was a selfish thing I was doing, bringing her to the cabin. My mother called it the honeymoon cabin. She and my father used to go out there for weekends, leaving me with June, who was the nanny and the cook at the time.

I got onto the horse first, after securing the bag, and then reached for Delilah. But this time, she sat in front of me instead of behind me. I placed her sideways so that her modesty wouldn’t be compromised. It was important to her, I could tell. I still wasn’t sure of her state after the morning’s events. She seemed jumpy and frail. The ride would be good for both of us.

“They’ve hated me all of my life,” she whispered halfway through our journey.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure. I did everything I was told. I got good marks in school. I can’t cook a thing, Porter. I wouldn’t know how to make biscuits if someone glued the instructions to my face.”

She was funny. I bet no one else knew that about her. She hadn’t mentioned any friends. My stomach soured at the fleeting thought of another man who may have held her heart, even as a friend.

“June won’t allow you to cook, anyway. The only thing Mother is allowed to do is make tea.”

She crooked her neck in my direction. Her body moved with the jerk, causing me to tighten my grip at her waist.

“Then why did you ask me if I could cook? I nearly fainted when you asked that.”

I shrugged. “I thought it was what I was supposed to ask. All of my breath was lost when you came down the stairs.”

“I bet it was.”

“Hey, none of that.” I kissed her temple. I’d done it like it was second nature to me. “Sorry. It was—I didn’t think.”

A tear streamed down her face—just one. “It’s not an imposition, Porter. Trust me.”

I made a mental note of her acceptance of affection. I had made sure not to invade her space, but it seemed she didn’t mind.

“Why did you think they hated you?”

“It wasn’t just me. They hated themselves. They treated their home like trash. They didn’t bathe regularly. They hated everything around them—and at the same time criticized those who didn’t live up to their high standards. I don’t know why they hated me. It was enough to make them attempt to ruin me or kill me, I don’t know which. We didn’t speak of it.”

“Did you go to the doctor? Didn’t they ask you how it happened?”

“I never went to the doctor. I cleaned it myself, after I had woken up. Mrs. Calhoun gave me some salve to put on it, but it didn’t stop the pain.”

“I’m glad I didn’t know that before they came this morning.”

“Why?”

I pushed a chunk of hair from her face. “Because they would’ve never been allowed in our home.”

Her eyes cast downward, taking my answer into consideration. The longer we rode, the closer she snuggled to me. There was no doubt that Delilah had gotten under my skin just by being who she was, but when she was this close, smelling like the calendula flowers that used to grow in the beds outside, it was nearly impossible not to take her lips.

We got to the cabin in less than an hour. It hadn’t been kept up. That was one of the reasons I wanted Delilah to come out with me. Since this cabin would now be ours, I wanted her to be in charge of redoing it—if she wanted to.

“This is it.” I dismounted the horse and reached for Delilah. She took my arms willingly.

“It’s a lovely little cottage.”

It could’ve been a cottage. That was my mother’s initial intention. Father turned it into more of a hunting cabin. Even when they came out here, mother complained to June that it was used more as a smelly fish keeper than a romantic getaway.

I hoped it would be different for us.

“It needs a makeover. We could paint it any color you like, make it look more like a cottage.”

She pointed to herself and I laughed.

“Yes. You. The cabin is ours after all.”

A beaming smile took over her face. She turned to me and then back to the cabin. I thought maybe she’d run to me.

“Can we go in?”

“Of course”

I pulled the skeleton key from my pocket and unlocked the door carefully. I wasn’t sure what awaited us, so I took my time, allowing a fair warning for any creatures that had made their home here. It was as I remembered it from sneaking here as a child. It was rustic to say the least. The walls boasted of my father’s kills and the curtains looked more like a camouflaged man’s attire than a woman’s retreat.

“This is it.”

She said nothing.

“I know. It’s not the cottage you were thinking.”

Her blank face was frustrating.

“Say something. I swear, anything you have to say—I won’t take offense.”

After giving the place a once over through her icy eyes, she said. “It stinks.”

“Like fish.”

“Like rotten crawfish and moldy potatoes.”

I sighed and sat down in a chair that openly protested my weight.

“Can we start by taking down the camouflage? I feel like I’m being hunted.”

With the cabin stripped of everything except the furniture, I stepped back and watched Delilah take the last blanket out and pile it up with the rest. Despite her father’s insistence that she was lazy, she’d worked harder than I had during the day.

I worked on sweeping out the inside. It was all that was left to be done. For a place that never got used, it was dingy and dusty as if it got used every day.

A sound stilled my movements. I dropped the broom and ran toward the scream as fast as my legs would carry me. I didn’t hear anything else. Panic struck me.

“Delilah!”

Nothing. Not even the sounds of the land around me gave any clues.

I continued walking, faster and faster in the direction I thought the cry for help had come from. If something had happened to her already, I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

A giggle in front of me carried on the wind. There was no child around, but it echoed around me, calling me forward. That’s when I saw Delilah crawling on her hands and knees away from the small pond that my father used to fish in. Terror was written all over her face.