Patrick's Charm (The Bride Train, #2) (13 page)

The soft look in Charm’s eyes encouraged him. He took a chance and reached for what he wanted. She allowed him to draw her into his embrace, and even put her arms around him. He buried his fingers in soft curls and pressed her head against his chest. To have her as his wife, the risk would be worth it. She might never come to love him. One day, she might decide to leave.

He wouldn’t let her go without a fight.  “We can be each other’s shelter. Marry me, Juliette DuCharme.”

She backed out of his arms. “I’m not that person anymore.”

“All right, then, Charm...” He got down on one knee, an awkward position because of the pressure on his hip. Nevertheless, he’d do this properly, no matter how painful. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Her cheeks turned rosy. She tightened the sash on the quilted wrapper and nervously brushed loose hair out of her face. “I’m not dressed for a proposal.”

“Put on a burlap sack, I wouldn’t care.”

Amusement eased the strain around her eyes and mouth. “You must be very worried about that other claim if you’re willing to take me in a burlap sack.”

He’d take her wearing nothing at all. Probably not the right thing to say.

She gazed out the window, deep in thought. “If I married, I’d want to maintain control over my money.”

In light of what she’d told him, the demand wasn’t surprising. Money wasn’t the issue so much as trust. No matter what he said, she would doubt him, unless he gave her the proof she was looking for.

“We can sign an agreement that says your earnings are your own.”

“You’d do that?” Her incredulous expression told him he was right about her lack of trust. She wouldn’t believe he’d offer such a thing without a fair exchange.

“If you promise to stay with me....”
Forever.
No, he couldn’t ask her to make a vow she wasn’t ready to keep. “At least until I settle the claim on my land.”

That would give him time to work on getting her to consider forever.

She hesitated. Then, with a look of determination, stuck out her hand. “We have a deal.”

––––––––

T
he wedding took place the next morning in the saloon in front of an itinerate preacher. Constantine and Rose Valentine stood as witnesses. The ceremony was blessedly brief. Afterwards Patrick poured a round of drinks, whiskey for the gentlemen and wine for the ladies. 

Charm couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. She was glad to have Rose beside her, even if her statuesque friend outshone her. Rose didn’t put on airs. She didn’t have a prideful bone in her body. Her husband adored her, as he should. Their courtship and marriage had been like something out of a fairy tale. Charm entertained no such fantasies. She had struck a deal with Patrick that was favorable to both of them, for as long as it lasted.

She took a sip of wine to calm her nerves.

Val raised his glass. “A toast to Patrick and Charm...to a lifetime of happiness.”

A drop of wine trickled down her windpipe. She choked, and then coughed uncontrollably.

Patrick pounded her on the back. “Here now, you got to wait for the toasts before you start guzzling.”

She narrowed her eyes. Her husband found her discomfort amusing? If she could catch her breath, she’d let him have it. The false vows they spoke in front of a Man of God, not to mention their best friends, were no laughing matter.

Rose took Charm’s wine and exchanged it for water. “Take a sip, it’ll help.”

“Thank you,” she choked out. While Patrick looked on—still smiling, the smug devil—she took small amounts of water. He’d probably put something in the wine. Some of Mr. Childers’ deadly concoction.

“Let me add my congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. O’Shea.” The Reverend Elijah Stillwater lifted his glass. “Good health, and a long life together.”

“Hear, hear!” Patrick agreed heartily. He tossed back his drink.

Charm merely nodded her head. She still couldn’t speak.

Her husband circled his arm around her waist and leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Better now?” he asked solicitously.

No, she wasn’t better, and she wouldn’t be better until everyone stopped talking about a long, happy marriage. Theirs would be neither.

Somehow, Patrick had convinced her that marrying him was the right thing to do. The argument had sounded rational at the time. Now, she wondered if she might’ve lost touch with reality. She likened being a wife in a temporary marriage to acting a part in a play. Soon, he would secure his land and she would have enough money to move on, and then the show would be over. Only, she’d gotten caught up in the illusion, speaking her vows as if she meant them. At least she hadn’t worn the white dress. Her hypocrisy didn’t extend that far.

“Give me a moment...” She walked away from her husband, needing a moment alone to clear the confusion from her mind.

Rose came over to check on her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just needed to clear my throat.” The lie seemed to reassure her friend, and it was better than telling Rose the ceremony had been a farce.

“Aren’t you wishin’ we could kick up our heels?” Rose began to hum and sway to the music in her head, her leaf green skirt swirling around her feet. “You should’ve asked that nice Mr. Childers to bring his fiddle. He played at the last barn dance. Nobody sat down...”

“If Mr. Childers showed up, Patrick would put the fiddle over his head,” Charm muttered.

“That’s very funny. He’s got no cause to be jealous with the way you look at him. Like he hung the moon...” Rose executed a twirl without spilling her wine.

Charm shook her head. Being in love had affected Rose’s vision, as well as her good sense.

“I think it’s romantic, how you and Mr. O’Shea met.”

“Romantic?” Charm rolled her eyes. “Juliet’s balcony scene is romantic. I applied for a job and had to force him to let me audition.”

“He said you leapt into his arms.”

“In a manner of speaking...” She supposed that might be considered romantic if they had fallen in love, which wasn’t the case.

“Do you recall the day I married, and you loaned me garters?”

“I told you to keep them until the next marriage...” Charm turned her back on the men and drew up her skirt to reveal a red garter. “I didn’t think I would be the one wearing them.”

Rose lifted her glass. “To the Order of the Garter. You said we would stand by each other, come what may. Do you remember?”

Charm released a soft laugh. Her friend must think marriage had affected her memory. “Of course I remember.”

A look of melancholy fell over Rose’s countenance. “I wish you’d invited our friends. I know you think they’ve shunned you, but I can’t believe they meant it, and I know they’ll be sorry they weren’t here today.”

She couldn’t be serious. Wait, this was Rose, who saw the best in everyone.

Charm appreciated her friend’s attempt to bring her back into the fold. In this case, however, her mother had been right. She shouldn’t expect to form lasting friendships with those outside her circle, Rose being the exception. “They won’t be sorry, I assure you. Besides, we wanted a simple ceremony.”

Rose gave her a forgiving smile. Her heart was too full of love to hold grudges or spite or even unhappiness. “I’m glad you asked us to stand with you. Val says Patrick is a good man. I think you’re perfect together.”

“Perfect? I look like a dwarf standing next to him.”

“Not a dwarf. Maybe a faery...” Rose’s green eyes shone with amusement. “Wee faeries have been known to cast spells over mortals they take a fancy to. ”

More fairytales.

“Patrick isn’t spellbound, believe me. He’s a practical man. He’s getting something out of this marriage, and so am I.”

Rose regarded her with a puzzled look.

She didn’t have the heart to tell her romantic friend that Patrick had only married her to secure his land. In a sense, it relieved her to know he didn’t harbor unrealistic expectations. On the other hand, part of her—the soft, vulnerable part she dared not reveal—wished the fairy tale could be true.

“Come back and join the celebration,” Patrick called out, and held up his glass. He gave her a smile that deepened the adorable dimples in his cheeks. The knowing looks he’d been sending her all day made her heart race and her hands tremble.

Before the wedding, he’d whispered in her ear about how much he looked forward to their wedding night. Heaven help her, so did she. She shouldn’t worry, he’d told her. He knew she wasn’t virginal, so his assurance must have something to do with his not being able to sire children. That being the case, she wouldn’t have to worry about getting with child. She should be glad they wouldn’t have that concern. So why did the thought of not carrying his child make her sad?

“Your husband is wanting you by his side...” Rose pointed out with a teasing smile.

“It won’t hurt him to wait.”

Her friend’s smile vanished. “Is something troubling you, Charm?

Was it so obvious?

“No, I’m just a bit overwhelmed...” And fearful of what her heart was telling her, that she’d spoken vows she wanted to keep, but couldn’t.

Patrick and Val stood near the bar, chatting with the dark-haired preacher who looked to be about the same age. He’d performed the wedding ceremony for Val and Rose. Someone, maybe Hope, had told her that he didn’t have a church. Maybe he would stay and they would build him one. Centralia could use more peaceful men.

“Thank you for coming here to marry us.” Patrick shook the preacher’s hand.

“My privilege.” Stillwater looked around, as if noticing the interior for the first time. “This is a nice place. How many people will it seat?”

“We got over a hundred in here for Charm’s debut,” Patrick answered.

“A hundred?” The preacher made a quick study of the stage behind him. “Would you let me use the space for church services on Sundays?”

Charm covered a smile so she wouldn’t offend him by laughing. The only congregants were likely to men expecting to slake their thirst after a heated sermon.

“Why not? We’re closed for business on Sundays anyway.” Patrick shook hands with the preacher—who didn’t ask him to sign anything.

Her husband had offered to put their agreement in writing. She knew he’d done it solely to ease her mind. Patrick would honor his promises, regardless. His word was his vow.

Charm stared at him, stricken by a sudden realization. His vows. He’d spoken them in a firm, confident voice, swearing to honor and cherish her and to cleave to her—until death.

Her heart quivered as Cupid’s arrow found its mark. Was it possible? Did he truly love her, and that was why he’d made those vows?

She scoffed at the fanciful notion. He’d never confessed to such a thing. What, then, was his motive for wanting to keep her? Holding onto the golden goose, of course.

The cheerful conversation around her seemed to come from far away, a buzzing in her head. Charm trembled as Patrick’s arm came around her. He drew her against him in a gesture both tender and possessive. “You’re being awfully quiet. That concerns me...”

“It should.”

Stubborn Irishman.
He’d tricked her into thinking their marriage would be temporary. She should’ve known better after he’d told her the story about letting his wife go and not making the same mistake. How did he think he could prevent her from leaving? The only thing that would make it difficult, if not impossible to leave, would be if she had a...

Child.

Her chest grew tight as panic set in. How could she have a child if he couldn’t...? What were his exact words? He never said his wife’s accusation was true, only that she used it as an excuse for an annulment.

Patrick leaned down and put his lips by her ear. “Are you nervous, is that what’s bothering you? It’s all right to be nervous on your wedding day. I’ll admit to being a wee bit nervous, too.”

Nervous wasn’t the right word. She couldn’t find words to describe her heartbreak. Hadn’t she known all along that Patrick wouldn’t have to use force to bend her to his will? He’d wooed her with tenderness. Thoughtful gestures.

She reached up, and fondled the silk ribbons on the bonnet he’d given her,
a token of his regard
. The sweet gesture had touched her deeply, and she’d insisted on wearing his gift at their wedding. That he’d manipulated her emotions was bad enough. Worse, she had fooled herself into believing she could marry him and keep her heart unbound.

He held her close to his side with his arm wrapped around her, offering protection. She leaned into his shoulder, unable to resist the lure. He could give her things she longed for almost as much as her freedom. A safe shelter and a place to belong. In the end, it was a snare. He would use her love to cage her. She’d be a well-fed songbird.

Sadly, he might not think he’d done anything wrong. He was a man, after all, and men only wanted two things from women: sex and total submission. He tried to pretend that wasn’t what he wanted, but tonight, she would force him to admit the truth.

***

A
fter everyone left and Patrick locked up, he ducked beneath the bar to retrieve something he’d hidden away for this special occasion. Gaining Charm’s agreement to marry him hadn’t been easy. The bigger challenge—dismantling her defenses—was still to come. He would start tonight.

Whistling one of Charm’s cheery tunes, he withdrew a bottle and two goblets.

“What? More wine?” Charm drifted over beside him. Her floral fragrance teased his senses. From perfume she wore or the flowers woven through her hair? She leaned in, and her breast pressed against his arm.

Desire roared through him. Somehow, he managed not to fumble while he uncorked the bottle and poured. He handed her a glass. “French Cognac. Your favorite, I believe.”

She lowered her lashes and took a dainty sip. “Mmm, it’s delicious. Where did you find it?”

“In the back, where I keep all my expensive liquor.”

“And you withheld it from me, shame on you.”

“Saved it, for a special occasion.” He poured a small amount into his goblet, would savor a mouthful, but no more. “After your first performance, I brought the bottle up to your room to share a toast. You were...indisposed.”