Short-Straw Bride (29 page)

M
eredith felt herself falling. With a tiny cry, she struggled against the lethargy that bound her and scrambled to reclaim her hold on the warm rock that was sliding away from her.

“Shh, Meri. It's all right,” the rock said. “We're home. Let go for just a minute, sweetheart, so I can get down. Then I'll carry you inside.”

But she didn't want to let go. Without her rock, she'd fall. She'd be alone in the cold again. “No,” she murmured, tightening her grip.

Something soft and very unrockish touched her brow. It left a small circle of heat against her skin, like a promise. “Trust me, Meri.” More warmth fanned across her cheek, warmth and familiarity. Strange how much her rock sounded like Travis.

Strong hands gripped her wrists and gently pried her away. Meredith whimpered but didn't fight. She trusted her husband's voice—whether he be rock or man.

As the rock shifted out from under her cheek, the hands returned, propping up her shoulders as she slumped forward. She tried to hold herself erect, but apparently her spine had turned to mush, for her body slumped to the side, following the hands as they edged farther down.

“I've got you, love.”

The falling finally stopped as she came to rest against her warm rock once again. But when the rock began moving, her head jostled in a way that kept her from slipping back into the comfort of oblivion. Annoyed, she strained to open her eyes, just enough to glare a complaint. But the stubbled jaw that blurred in and out of focus a few inches from her face looked nothing like the rock she'd expected. Oh, it was set at a hard angle and clenched tight in concentration, but it was definitely flesh.

“Travis?” she croaked.

His chin dipped, and the brown eyes she loved so dearly caressed her face.

“I'm glad you're my rock.” She knew it wasn't quite the right thing to say, but so much fog swirled in her mind, it was the best she could manage.

Travis's jaw softened a touch, and one corner of his mouth lifted. “I'm glad, too.”

A sharp gust of wind slashed across her face, bringing her mind into momentary focus. Cold. She ached with it. Everywhere. It ran so deep she feared she'd never be able to cast it out. She burrowed closer to Travis, but even he seemed to lack heat. The place she had laid her cheek against his oilskin during their ride had chilled.

“I'm c-c-cold.” Shivers began coursing through her with such violence she worried she might shake herself free of Travis's arms. But he held fast.

“You'll be warm soon, Meri. I swear it.”

As he climbed the porch steps, another horse pounded into the yard, two riders on its back. For once, Travis didn't bellow any orders to his brothers, he just continued on to the house. Meredith would have smiled if her teeth hadn't been chattering so shamefully. Her husband was learning to surrender control—trusting his brothers more fully, and perhaps God, as well. Dare she hope that one day he might even trust
her
enough to bestow his heart?

When he carried her across the threshold of her room, she could think of little else. Her eyes slid closed, and she imagined herself in the blue-and-white-striped dress she'd worn at her wedding, her husband's arms around her, his eyes full of love and laughter as he escorted her into their room.
Their
room. The room where they would belong solely to each other, where love would be shared and children conceived. A room where she could truly be a wife.

“Meri? Can you stand?”

Why did he need her to stand? Wouldn't it be easier just to lay her on the bed? Her dress would look so pretty fanned out around her. She could open her arms, and he could bend down and kiss her . . .

“I need you to try to stand, sweetheart. If I lay you down, you'll get the bed all wet.”

Wet? Meredith scrunched up her nose. What an odd thing for a husband to say. It wasn't at all romantic.

“Come on, Meri. I need you to help me get your clothes off.”

Meredith sniffed. That wasn't very romantic, either—all gruff and businesslike. Where were the sweet words a husband used to woo his bride? And why wasn't he kissing her? Everything would be so much better if he'd just kiss her. Then he could do whatever he wanted with her clothes.

She leaned forward to show him what she wanted, but for some reason, her lips missed their target and landed somewhere on his neck. At least it felt like his neck. Not that she'd ever kissed him there, of course. But it felt much like she expected a neck to feel. She thought to adjust her aim and try again. However, she couldn't quite summon the energy. Oh well, necks were nice, too.

“Meredith!” Travis's bark combined with a brief, jarring shake tore away the curtain of her delirium, leaving her exposed to the harsh light of reality.

She hung like a rag doll from Travis's arms, her feet dragging the floor, her face plastered against his neck. No wedding dress. Only mud-smeared calico and a soggy wool cloak.

“I need your help.” This time she heard the fear in his voice. “Please.”

The hovering darkness promised escape, but she resisted its pull. Travis needed her.

Meredith reached her hands up to her husband's shoulders and drew her feet more firmly beneath her. Bracing her weight on her good leg, she gazed into his eyes as she forced herself to stand. His eyes held hers, infusing her with strength.

Keeping one hand at her waist to aid her balance, Travis used the other to undo the cloak's fastenings. Once he had it undone, he helped her slip each arm through the sleeves and tossed the sopping garment into a heap near the wall. He had just reached for the buttons that ran the length of her bodice when a masculine voice intruded.

“How is she, Travis?”

Meredith twisted her head away from Crockett, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“She's frozen, half delirious, and weak as a newborn kitten, but I think if we can get her warm, she'll be all right.”

“I've got water heating for some tea and a pair of bricks heating in the hearth. I brought some toweling, too.” Crockett raised his arms to indicate the small bundle, then walked into the room and set it on the bed. “Need any help?'

Meredith gasped. She thought the man wanted to be a preacher. How could he make such an improper suggestion?

“Yeah. Come hold her up for a minute while I get out of this slicker.”

“Travis, no,” she moaned.

His eyes widened slightly, then crinkled at the corners. “Don't worry,” he whispered close to her ear. “I'll send him away before we undo any more buttons.”

What on earth had possessed him to say such a thing? Travis stripped off his hat, slicker, and coat, tossing them to the floor. The woman was soaked to the skin, her teeth chattering faster than the rattle on a snake's tail. The last thing she needed was a flirtatious husband. Yet it
had
brought a touch of color back to her cheeks.

Travis took a minute to rummage through the bureau drawers and find one of Meri's nightdresses before he relieved Crockett. His brother stepped aside, then winked at Travis, careful to keep the gesture hidden from Meredith.

“A little different from last time, huh?”

Images of the two of them bumbling over Meredith's corset after her encounter with Samson scurried through Travis's mind. “Very,” he ground out.

Thank the Lord Meredith was conscious enough to cooperate this time, for there was no way he'd let Crockett assist in her undressing. That duty belonged to her husband. And only her husband.

Crockett slapped him on the back and strode to the door. “I'll knock when the tea and bricks are ready,” he said, all teasing gone from his voice as he grabbed the knob to pull the door shut. “Feel better, Meredith.”

“Th-th-th-hank y-y-you,” she stammered in reply.

Travis gently tugged her head toward him until it lay against his chest, and then he ran his hands briskly up and down her arms, trying to ward off her convulsive shivers. His own legs were cold inside his rain-soaked trousers, but his comfort could wait. Meri's couldn't.

Together, they managed to get her dress, petticoats, and corset off. But when Travis started to toss the pink, lacy undergarment on top of the pile of wet clothes, Meredith shrieked and grabbed his arm with more strength than he would have given her credit for.

“Drape it over the b-b-back of the ch-chair.”

He figured it was safer not to argue with her, so he did as she instructed and hurried back to her side, grabbing the toweling off the bed as he went. He wrapped her in the dry cloth as if it were a shawl and urged her to lean on him as he rubbed her back and arms. So focused was he on getting her warm that it wasn't until he was kneeling before her, running a second towel up and down her calves, that he realized how well her damp chemise and drawers clung to her curves.

Travis immediately turned his attention to her feet.

After a moment of carefully regulated breathing and a stern internal lecture, Travis stood and faced his bride. “Do you think you can handle the nightdress on your own?”

She gave a jerky little nod, and he exhaled in relief. Her shivers had calmed somewhat, but she still looked unsteady on her feet.

“I'm going to turn around to give you some privacy, but I'll be right here if you need me. All right?”

Another nod.

Travis turned his back and immediately started naming the books of the Bible in his head. Then the twelve apostles, thirteen if one counted Matthias, which he did because he needed all the distraction he could get to keep himself from imagining what was transpiring behind him. He added Paul in for good measure, too, and then started on the twelve tribes. Although, really, there were thirteen there, too. What with Joseph's descendants split into two tribes and named after his sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. But then again, the Levites didn't inherit any land, so—

A muffled cry banished the Israelites from his brain. Travis spun around to find Meredith bent sideways clasping her calf through the white cotton of her nightdress. He was at her side in an instant.

“What is it?”

“Cramps,” she whimpered. “In my w-weak leg.”

He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

“I sh-shouldn't have put any weight on it. I know b-b-better.”

Travis pulled the covers back and laid her on the sheets. “What can I do?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled toward him, curling up into a ball. “It'll p-pass eventually.”

That wasn't good enough. Travis tucked the blankets up to her chin, knelt on the rug that ran alongside the bed, and reached for her leg—the leg his trap had weakened all those years ago, the leg that had brought this incredible woman into his life.

Meredith groaned and tried to ease the limb away from him, but he wouldn't allow her to retreat. Using a light touch at first, he worked his way up her calf to just above her knee, then back down to the arch of her foot and even her toes. Gradually he increased the pressure of his massage, working the knots out of her muscles until she finally began to uncurl from her protective posture.

When Crockett's knock came, Meri's eyelids had relaxed, and though she continued to shiver slightly, her breathing had evened enough that Travis suspected she might have drifted off to sleep. Slowly, he drew his hand down her calf, over her ankle, and across her foot, enjoying the feel of her skin one last time just for the pure pleasure of it before rising to answer the door.

“How is she?” Crockett asked, lowering his voice to a whisper when he noticed her lying in bed.

“Better, but she's still shivering. I'm worried she might have caught a chill.”

“Yeah, well, I'm worried
you're
going to catch a chill unless you get some dry clothes on yourself. Go change while I try to get some of this tea into her. Neill's gathering the bricks now. We'll have her warm in no time.”

Travis glanced back at Meri, reluctant to leave. But Crockett was right. He'd be no good to her if he was ill.

“I left a mug of hot coffee for you on Neill's dresser.”

“Thanks.” Travis strode down the hall, determined to change in record time.

His wet trousers made the going slower than he would have liked, clinging to him like woolen leeches. He eventually succeeded in peeling them off, along with his drawers and socks. The dry clothes went on much easier, and within minutes, Travis had gulped down his coffee and was helping Neill arrange the cloth-wrapped hot bricks under the sheets at the bottom of Meredith's bed.

Crockett got about a cupful of tea into Meri before she waved him away. Her haggard expression elicited Travis's protective nature, and he immediately shooed his brothers out of the room. Meredith inched her way back down in the bed, no doubt drawn to the heat of the bricks, but once there, she still curled herself into a ball, as if the added warmth failed to penetrate her.

“Are you still cold?”