Short Straw Bride (10 page)

“That was a fine meal, Eleanor.”

“Thank you.” She summoned up a smile.

“Are you settling in all right?”

“Yes.” At least, she had been until now.

She wanted to say something about the scene she’d just witnessed but she couldn’t find the words. Just a short while ago she’d been feeling so hopeful about the future but, looking at him now, she was reminded that he was still a stranger to her, no matter what intimacies they’d shared the night before.

“I’ll take your trunks upstairs tonight. Unless you need them sooner.”

“No. Tonight will be fine.”

Luke hesitated, looking for something else to say. When he’d thought about marrying, he’d assumed he’d bring his new wife home, get her settled and not give much more thought to her. But he’d damn near lost a finger this morning because his mind
was on his bride instead of the balky cow he’d just roped.

Looking at her now, he couldn’t say just what it was about her that had made it so hard to keep his mind on his work this morning. It wasn’t that she was a raving beauty, because she wasn’t. But there was certainly something to be said for hair that was never quite tamed and eyes as big and soft as a fawn’s.

Remembering the way her eyes had turned almost black with passion, Luke felt arousal stir in his gut. His jeans suddenly felt constricting and he had the urge to forget all about the work waiting to be done and take his wife upstairs to bed.

He could kiss away the dusting of flour on her short, straight little nose. And from there, he was only a whisper away from her mouth. That full lower lip of hers had haunted him since the first time he’d seen her. And now he had reason to know that it tasted every bit as good as it looked.

“If there’s nothing you need, I’ll be getting back to work,” he said abruptly. If he didn’t get out of here, he wasn’t going to be able to resist the urge to kiss her, and once he kissed her, he wouldn’t have bet a plugged nickel that he’d get out of the house anytime soon.

“There’s nothing I need. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you later, then.” It was just that he was new to marriage, Luke told himself as he strode out. He paused at the top of the back steps, settling his hat on his head to cut the glare from the noontime sun. It was like driving a herd new to the trail; it took a few days to settle in.

No doubt, it was going to take time to settle into being married, Eleanor thought. She dragged her eyes from the door through which her new husband had departed and surveyed the disaster that had, a short while ago, been a clean kitchen. The floor, which had been mopped less than an hour before, was coated with dirt and mud and substances she didn’t want to identify. The table was a wreck of greasy dishes and spilled food.

She’d planned to eat after the men, but her appetite was gone. Forcing herself to move, she began clearing the table. Time, she told herself as she pumped water into a kettle and set it to heat, she just had to give it time. Hadn’t she read that women provided a civilizing influence on the frontier? Obviously, the Bar-M-Bar hands had been too long away from such influence.

Eleanor spent the afternoon the same way she’d spent the morning—cleaning and cooking, though her enthusiasm for both was considerably diminished. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about
running out of things to do, she thought with a touch of sharp humor.

By the time the evening meal was on the table, she was too tired to care if the men ate with their feet, which was just as well because the scene was a repeat of the one at noon. She’d baked two pies, using dried apples she’d found in the big pantry. Both disappeared in a heartbeat, devoured literally out of hand since it didn’t seem to occur to anyone to use a plate or fork.

Once the meal was finished, the hands returned to the bunkhouse, Luke and Daniel disappeared into the den to go over some paperwork and Eleanor was left with the wreck of her kitchen. Her jaw set with annoyance, she cleaned up the new mess as quickly as possible, then heated water to take upstairs so that she could wash up.

Luke had just struck a match to light his cigarette when he heard Eleanor’s footsteps on the stairs. He promptly lost track of his conversation with Daniel. Was she going up to bed? He didn’t have to close his eyes to picture the way she’d looked the night before, with her hair tumbling almost to her hips and her dark eyes soft with innocence and passion, a potent combination. Would she put on the same nightdress? He’d enjoy taking it off again, sliding his hands under the layers of
fine muslin to find the even softer skin beneath. He’d—

“Dammit!” The curse exploded from him as the forgotten match burned down to his fingers. He dropped the match, shaking his singed hand and glaring at his brother, who was grinning unsympathetically.

“Thought you might have forgot about it,” Daniel said.

“You could have said something.” Luke blew on his fingertips to cool the burn.

“Could have,” Daniel agreed, still grinning. He struck a match on the heel of his boot and lit his own cigarette before leaning forward to do the same for his brother. “But I figured you’d remember the match before it did any permanent damage.”

“Thanks,” Luke said dryly. He heard Eleanor moving around in their bedroom, which was directly over the den, and it took a considerable effort to keep his mind from drifting to what she might be doing.

“She’s done a lot of work.” It was obvious that Daniel knew what had distracted his older brother. “Place looks better already.”

“Yeah.” Luke agreed absently. The truth was, he hadn’t paid much attention to what the house looked like. Somehow, after last night, he found
himself less concerned with his bride’s housekeeping skills. But now that Daniel had mentioned it, he noticed that the layers of dust that had coated every surface were gone.

“And she bakes a damn fine pie,” Daniel added. He drew on his cigarette, squinting at his older brother through the smoke.

“Best biscuits I’ve ever eaten,” Luke said, feeling a stir of pride.

“Can’t argue that.”

But Luke lost the conversational train again as a floorboard creaked overhead. Was she getting undressed? Or maybe she was already undressed and was now taking her hair down, running a brush through the thick, dark curls.

He jerked, startled, as Daniel leaned forward and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers.

“You burn yourself again and you’re not going to be fit to handle a rope,” Daniel said as he crushed the butt out in the ashtray on the desk.

Luke flushed, annoyed with himself for becoming distracted again. Dammit, what was it about her that made it so hard to put her out of his mind? Mercifully, Daniel refrained from commenting on his distraction, though the laughter in his eyes suggested that there was plenty he could have said, if he’d chosen.

“The boys were planning a poker game tonight. You going to join in?”

Luke opened his mouth to say he would and the floorboards shifted again overhead. “Not tonight.”

He ignored his brother’s knowing grin as he said good-night and went out to the bunkhouse. But once alone, Luke didn’t immediately go upstairs. He deliberately took time to roll another cigarette and smoke it, proving to himself that, when it came to his new wife, he was in complete control. Only when the cigarette had been smoked to a stub did Luke allow himself to blow out the lamp. He climbed the stairs at a slow, deliberate pace, ignoring the steady beat of arousal that urged him to hurry.

She was leaning over the bed to turn back the quilt when he entered the room, but she straightened and turned to look at him, her eyes dark and unreadable. She was wearing the same nightdress she’d worn the night before but her wrapper lay across the foot of the bed. As she moved, Luke saw the gentle sway of her breasts beneath the thin muslin and hunger grabbed him by the throat.

Eleanor had planned to be in bed asleep—or feigning sleep—before Luke came upstairs. She was tired from the work she’d done, but more than that,
she was no more certain that marrying Luke had been the right thing to do than she had been before she married him. And that uncertainty was all the more unsettling for the intimacy they’d shared the night before.

But Luke had come up to bed sooner than she’d anticipated. She watched him now, wondering what he’d say, wondering what she should say in return. They’d spent so little time talking, so little time getting to know each other.

But Luke didn’t seem to be in a conversational mood. Without saying a word, he came toward her, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. Eleanor felt her breath catch as he shrugged out of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor. Her gaze was filled by the thick muscles of his chest. She remembered the feel of those muscles against her breasts, the sweet abrasion of his chest hair against her nipples.

She swallowed and tried to find her voice, though she wasn’t sure what she planned to say. Luke’s hand came up, his fingers deft as he untied the ribbon that held the end of her braid. In seconds her hair was spilling over his hand. Eleanor opened her mouth—to protest?—but Luke’s lips covered hers and whatever sound she might have made vanished in a sigh. Somehow, her fingers were sliding into the
thick darkness of his hair, her mouth opening to invite his possession.

Held like this, pressed so close to him, her uncertainty faded. Luke’s arms were so strong, his touch so sure. Something so sweet couldn’t possibly be a mistake, could it? And then he was easing her back onto the bed, following her down, and Eleanor stopped thinking altogether.

“T
hey eat like a bunch of savages, Letty.”

“Men
are
savages.” Letty’s calm response drew a quick laugh from Eleanor but it ended in a discouraged sigh.

“I don’t know what to do,” Eleanor admitted. “I’ve read about the civilizing influence a woman’s supposed to have on men but I haven’t seen much evidence of it so far.”

“It’s only been two weeks, Ellie. They’ve had three years to revert to behavior more natural to them. It’s going to take time and persistence to change their bad habits.”

The two women were seated in the newly cleaned parlor of the McLain house. Letty had driven out to visit. After two weeks spent in exclusively male company, Eleanor would have been grateful to see any woman, but she was especially grateful to see Letty. She refilled their cups from the teapot that
had been Letty’s wedding present to her and settled back into her chair.

“I thought maybe just knowing I was there would make them remember their manners,” she said. “But yesterday one of the men grabbed a handful of meat off the platter and dropped it on his plate. I’m surprised he didn’t growl while he was eating it.”

Letty smiled sympathetically. “You have to be firm with them, Ellie. Subtlety doesn’t work with men. Unless they’re hit over the head with something, chances are they won’t pay any attention to it.”

“I can’t scold them as if they were children.”

“Why not? In my experience, men frequently
act
like children. It might do them some good to be treated as such.”

“It might, but I’m not going to be the one to do it.” Eleanor’s imagination quailed at the thought.

“Then ask Luke to say something to them,” Letty suggested.

“Luke?” Eleanor’s tone was so blank that Letty’s brows rose again.

“Luke. Your husband,” she said.

“I know who he is.” Eleanor flushed and looked away.

“I thought you might have forgotten.”

“Of course not.” Eleanor took a sip from her teacup, using the action as an excuse to avoid her friend’s eyes for a moment. Forget Luke? It would be easier to forget her own name. “I couldn’t ask him to speak to the men,” she said as she set her cup back in its saucer.

“Why not?”

“I just couldn’t.” She caught Letty’s look and sighed. Letty could be annoyingly stubborn at times. “I don’t really…know him well enough,” she said slowly, trying to put her feelings into words. “We’ve only been married two weeks and I just don’t feel comfortable making demands.”

Letty considered that for a moment and then shook her head. “I think you’re wrong, Ellie. The longer you go not making any demands, the harder it’s going to be to make them.” She lifted one hand to still the argument she could see in Eleanor’s eyes. “I’m not suggesting that you turn into a shrew overnight, but you don’t have to be a doormat, either.”

“I’m not a doormat,” Eleanor protested.

“Have you had a fight with Luke?”

“No, but—”

“Then you’re a doormat.” Letty’s tone brooked no argument.

“But we’ve only been married two weeks,” Eleanor protested.

“Past time for a fight. Or at least a small quarrel. You spent too many years living with your aunt, learning to hold your tongue because it did you no good to do otherwise.”

“I can’t just pick a fight with Luke over nothing.”

“There’s always something to quarrel with a man about.” Letty spoke with the voice of experience and Eleanor smiled despite herself.

A comfortable silence fell between the two women. Eleanor sipped her tea and felt herself relax for the first time in two weeks. There was mending to be done and in a little while she needed to start preparations for supper—feeding the animals, as she’d come to think of it. But for now she wouldn’t think of anything beyond enjoying the moment.

“What about his brother?” Letty asked abruptly.

“Daniel? What about him?”

“What’s he like? I mean, have you found him to be pleasant?”

“Yes.” Eleanor’s answer was slow. She wondered at the reason for Letty’s question. “Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered.” Letty seemed interested in a minute spot on the skirt of her rose-colored silk dress.

“You’re attracted to him.” Eleanor’s tone was gleeful.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Letty snapped. Her cheeks were pinker than they had been. “I was just making polite conversation, that’s all.”

“He
is
attractive,” Eleanor said, ignoring her friend’s feeble protest. Of course Daniel was attractive. He was practically the spitting image of his brother. How could he be anything else? “Oh, Letty, it would be such fun if you married Daniel! Then we’d be sisters by marriage.”

“Marry him? I don’t even know him!” But Letty’s protest wasn’t as vehement as it might have been.

“We can take care of that. Once he meets you, he’ll fall in love with you.”

“We’ve been introduced and he showed no signs of being smitten. He barely nodded to me at the wedding,” Letty observed with a hint of annoyance.

“There was so much hustle and bustle, I doubt he could have pointed out the bride,” Eleanor said soothingly.

It was all she could do to refrain from rubbing her hands together with glee. In the years she’d known Letty, this was the first interest her friend had ever shown in someone of the opposite sex, despite the fact that several eligible bachelors had put considerable effort into courting the young widow. That it should be Daniel who’d attracted Letty’s eye was simply too perfect.

“You could invite us to dinner,” she suggested. “That would give Daniel a chance to get to know you.”

“Absolutely not!” Letty’s teacup clattered against the saucer as she set them both down. “I won’t stoop to chasing the man. Besides, you’re jumping to conclusions. I never said I found him in the least attractive.”

“But you didn’t say you didn’t, either.” Eleanor’s tone was sly. She was not in the least discouraged by Letty’s attitude. All she had to do was make sure their paths crossed and trust Daniel to have the good sense to see what a wonderful wife Letty would make.

“I don’t know what you’re plotting, but I want no part of it,” Letty said when she saw the look in her friend’s eyes. Her movements were agitated as she stood and reached for her reticule and gloves. “I should be getting home.”

She appeared relieved when Eleanor didn’t pursue the topic of Daniel’s suitability as husband material. Letty asked if Eleanor and Luke would be attending the upcoming Fourth of July celebration in Black Dog, easily the town’s most festive holiday of the year. Eleanor didn’t know but said she’d ask Luke.

“Don’t forget to do so. It wouldn’t be much fun without you.” Letty brushed a kiss on Eleanor’s cheek. “And don’t forget that a good quarrel now and then can do wonders for a marriage. Besides, it can be such fun to make up,” she added with a wicked smile that made Eleanor blush.

Eleanor stayed on the porch, watching as Letty drove her smart little buggy out of the yard. She waited until it was out of sight before turning back to the house. She mulled over Letty’s suggestion that she needed to be more demanding but discarded it almost immediately. Letty just didn’t understand. True, she had been married, which made her the voice of experience. But Letty had been in love with her husband and he with her. Their situation had been altogether different from hers and Luke’s.

Ask Luke to speak to the men? How could she? Aside from the time they spent in bed together, she felt as if she barely knew him. And the fact that
she’d come to know him very well indeed in the Biblical sense only clouded the issue. Outside the bedroom they rarely exchanged more than a few sentences in a day. And they didn’t talk much inside the bedroom, either, she admitted, flushing as she considered what they did do.

Still, wonderful as his lovemaking was, it wasn’t enough to satisfy the part of her that insisted that there was more to a marriage than that. Other than in bed, she might almost have been invisible for all the attention Luke paid her. Not that he was ever rude, but she wanted more than politeness from him. She wanted…

She wanted him to love her.

No matter how often she told herself that it was a foolish, romantic notion, that marriage didn’t require love, she couldn’t give up the dream of having a husband who loved her the way her father had loved her mother.

Eleanor grinned as she considered Letty’s suggestion that she pick a fight with Luke. Somehow, she couldn’t quite believe that that was the best way to make a man fall in love with her. Obviously, she’d have to think of something else.

In the meantime, there was dinner to prepare and she still had to think of some way to persuade the men that eating like a pack of wolves was not the
best form of behavior. If only she knew how this feminine “civilizing influence” was supposed to work. Lord knew, she needed a double dose of it here.

If Luke had suspected that Eleanor was less than content with their marriage, he would have been surprised. As far as he was concerned, marriage was a great deal better than he’d ever anticipated. When he’d listed the attributes he required in a wife, he’d had little hope of fulfilling them all, but he’d managed to do just that.

Dust no longer coated every surface. Meals were neither burned nor raw. In fact, if he had a complaint about his wife’s cooking, it was that it was too good. It took a considerable effort of will to drag himself from the table and climb back into the saddle. His clothes were clean and mended, he was well fed, the house was becoming a home again and, on top of all that, he’d married a woman who had all the sweet passion a man could possibly want.

He’d made a good choice, he thought now, his gaze pardonably smug as he looked around the parlor, admiring the gleaming surfaces and the renewed color of his mother’s treasured rug, which had been thoroughly beaten a few days ago and then relaid over a bed of fresh straw.

“Place looks like it used to,” Daniel commented, his thoughts moving along the same lines as his brother’s.

“Yup.” Luke noticed that the ashes on his cigar had grown dangerously long, and reached for the ashtray. The ash dropped off before he got there and he used the toe of his boot to rub it into the rug before tapping the remainder off in the ashtray.

Eleanor had already gone upstairs, so there was no possibility of her seeing him drop ashes on her freshly cleaned rug. Not that she would make a fuss, even if she did, he thought. Didn’t have a bad-tempered bone in her body, near as he could tell. He thought he heard a sound from upstairs, but Daniel spoke before he could decide whether or not he’d really heard something.

“Best pie I’ve ever laid a tooth to.” The ashtray was beyond Daniel’s reach, so he tapped his ashes into a cut-glass bowl that held decorative waxed fruit.

“She can cook.” Luke allowed a trace of smugness to color his words.

Hearing it, Daniel grinned. “Got just about everything you wanted.”

“Yup.”

“No regrets?”

“Nope.” He wondered if Eleanor was in bed yet. The thought of going up to join her held more interest than smoking another cigar with his brother, he decided, examining the tip of the one he held. He tilted his head toward the door, thinking he’d heard something but, again, Daniel spoke before he could decide for sure.

“I never thought I’d envy you for drawing the short straw when we decided one of us had to get married,” Daniel said ruefully.

He would have said more, but this time they both heard the same sound. A startled gasp, followed by a soft flurry of movement from the direction of the hall. Luke was on his feet and in the doorway in the space of a heartbeat. He caught only a glimpse of Eleanor’s ankles as she disappeared up the stairs in a swirl of muslin.

He winced as the sound of their bedroom door being slammed echoed through the house.

His face expressionless, Luke turned back into the parlor. Carrying his cigar over to the ashtray, he rubbed it out, taking great pains to extinguish every trace of embers. Daniel cleared his throat.

“You hadn’t told her about us drawing straws?” he asked.

“Didn’t seem much point in it.” Luke shrugged.

“Women can be a little peculiar about things like that.” Daniel stood and stubbed out his own cigar in the ashtray.

“She may be a little annoyed but she’s a sensible girl. I’ll have a little talk with her,” Luke said in his best husbandly tone.

“There’s room in the bunkhouse,” Daniel offered.

“She’s not the sort to throw a fit.”

Daniel gave him a doubtful look as he bent to pick up his hat from where it had rested on the sofa. He put it on, looking at his older brother from beneath its shadow. “I said it before but I’ll say it again. Ain’t the woman been born that can’t throw a fit, given the right circumstance.”

“My wife doesn’t throw fits,” Luke said firmly, confident that he was right.

“There’s room in the bunkhouse,” Daniel repeated. He clapped his hand on Luke’s shoulder before leaving.

Luke waited until he heard the front door shut behind Daniel before heading upstairs. If Eleanor
was
going to throw a fit, he had no desire for Daniel to hear it. Not that he thought for a minute that she was going to do any such thing. But it did occur to him as he reached the second floor that he really hadn’t spent all that much time with his
bride, other than in bed, of course. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he might.

He reached for the doorknob and felt a surge of relief when it turned easily beneath his hand. He’d half expected the door to be locked against him. She might be a little upset. Maybe she’d even shed a few tears, but she was a sensible girl and she’d be reasonable. Luke pushed open the door and stepped into the room, prepared to comfort his weeping bride.

“What the—” He ducked as a book sailed past his ear and slammed into the wall beside the door. His eyes followed its trajectory back to the source and his reasonable explanation for what Eleanor had overheard vanished from his thoughts.

His gentle, sensible bride stood on the other side of the bed, the fury in her eyes at odds with the flowing femininity of her nightdress and wrapper. Maybe she wasn’t going to be reasonable after all, Luke decided as he pushed the door quietly shut behind him.