The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) (26 page)

THIRTY-FOUR

A
fter they returned home to a celebration dinner, things pretty quickly settled back to a normal routine for Annie—except now she practiced signs with Jem and Mae in the morning and after dinner each evening. They all taught Ray and Ben as the days went along, whatever they could. They talked about Mae’s birthday coming up next month, and Annie finished up the rag doll she’d been making, keeping it hidden in the wardrobe where she’d hung her new ball gown, way back behind the volumes of rosy pink silk. They also prepared for Tom Booker’s wedding, which was to be held in Colorado Springs.

The day of the wedding was especially brisk and cold, but the sun shone bright and the sky was clear. The church was decorated in swaths of white fabric and clusters of pink silk roses, a lovely setting for the bride and groom to exchange their vows before their friends and family. Annie’s skirt took up nearly a fourth of the pew. She tried to tuck it close as she sat between Jem and Ben, listening to Adam Booker, the nice young banker from Denver, playing a song on his guitar as part of the ceremony. Annie found the melody romantic, but it had an almost haunting quality, not at all like the lighthearted strumming he’d played at Castle Ranch when she and Gabe Creed were learning to dance.

As soon as the formal wedding ceremony was ended, Jem escorted Annie to a grand house, where the family was hosting a wedding supper. Ben accompanied them. She noticed a lightening of spirit about Ben’s person today—and ever since they’d returned from the school for the deaf and mute. He seemed more willing to converse with Jem, for one. He didn’t scowl all the time or leave the kitchen table as soon as he took his last bite of food. He’d even learned a few signs. It was remarkable really, and Annie hoped it meant he’d begun to soften toward Jem.

Once seated at a long table at the reception supper, Annie savored tasty lobster cakes and fried oysters, delicacies she’d never tried before. Though people seemed taken aback by Jem conversing with her in sign language—practicing, more like, given their still quite limited skills—no one was outright rude.

In fact, after supper, while the crowd was milling about waiting for the dancing to begin, a tall blond-haired woman in an ornate navy gown pulled Annie aside.

All the air sucked out of Annie’s lungs as she blinked at the woman.

“I hope you don’t mind me introducing myself in this way, but I’m Edith Hyde,” the woman said soothingly, seeing Annie’s surprise. She looked to be nearly thirty and had kind eyes that swiftly settled Annie’s nerves. “Tom Booker’s sister. Our cousin Adam pointed you out to me at the wedding.” The woman went on to sign that her son attended the school for the deaf.

Annie pressed her hands to her waist at first, too self-conscious to sign anything, but soon found herself chatting as best as she could with the woman, mostly answering questions about where she was from and about her time at the school. Soon she felt comfortable enough to ask some questions about the woman’s son as well. The experience was all very exhilarating and terrifying, and yet also shot through with a feeling of accomplishment.

The whole time she felt Jem watching her with what appeared to be a protective air. Was he worried about her? It seemed so. How unexpectedly gratifying his concern was. Edith Hyde ended a humorous story about her son, Jeremy, and Annie laughed aloud, all her self-consciousness forgotten. As if deciding she was in good hands, Jem nodded to her and signed that he was going to join Ben and Adam Booker. He pointed to a bank of tall windows at the far end of the ballroom, and she waved him away with what she hoped was a confident smile.

Some pleasant time later, Annie heard the sliding whine of violins and other string instruments warming up. She looked around for Jem.

Excuse me
, she signed to Edith, as the woman insisted she call her, teaching Annie the sign for her name.
I think I should find my husband
.

“Go on,” she laughed, “find your new husband. I know what that’s like.”

Annie left her, hoping she’d have a chance to see the woman again, possibly one Sunday in church. She began to cross the long expanse of ballroom, lined end to end with a crowd of guests in their wedding finery. Every time she caught sight of herself in one of the tall gilt-framed mirrors lining the ballroom, she had to stop and look again. It was the strangest sensation, not recognizing herself. It was the gown of course. The seamstress in town had created a masterpiece of rosy pink silk with creamy lace and clusters of roses around the scooped neckline. It was more beautiful than any dress she’d ever seen.

She angled herself slightly so she could see the pretty clusters of full roses worked into her skirt, caught up here and there in ruffles and ribbons. She didn’t know how much Jem had paid the woman for her work. She suspected a small fortune.

She’d had her hair done in town too, an elaborate confection of loose curls pinned up at the back of her head and bouncing against her neck. How different it made her look.

Then Annie froze. Reflected behind her in the crowd, one face crystallized among the many. A face that turned her whole body to ice.

The man who’d tried to buy her from Danny.

The man who’d treated Sugar so harshly.

Him.
The man Ray had called Creed.

He stood not ten feet behind her, flanked on either side by a beautiful black-haired woman, who was some fifteen years younger than him, and three tall young men who Annie surmised were his elder sons. Gabe she didn’t see. She might have taken a moment to wonder why, but Creed’s eyes met hers in the mirror and snapped into sharp focus.

Something shifted in his expression as he recognized her.

Annie lifted a hand to her neck, a protective gesture, not fully aware she’d moved at first. She dropped her hand to her side as soon as she realized her action had betrayed her fear. Creed had already seen it. His gaze remained locked on her as he raised a glass of wine to his mouth and drank deeply. She’d never precisely felt hunted before. Now she did. Creed’s eyes on her, his unwavering focus. Unnerving.

A shiver crawled up her spine, and she spun away, pushing through a wall of black suits and colorful pastel gowns. All the pretty ladies and handsome gents laughing and talking, unaware of her distress. She had to get away.

“A-Annie!” A young man’s voice called to her. Gabe.

She’d stumbled out onto the edge of the dance floor. Couples were forming sets of four around her. Gabe came to a stop and stood awkwardly before her, casting a self-conscious glance around. He was painfully aware of his stutter, she realized, and embarrassed by it. She wished she could tell him she longed to speak as well as he could.

He laid his outstretched palm before her.

“Can I have this dance?” He said it perfectly, just as he’d practiced at the house.

The panic she’d felt from Creed’s eyes on her began to ebb away as her surroundings came into view. Creed wouldn’t come after her here. There were too many people.

“A-Annie?”

Annie absently made the sign for
yes
and nodded. She placed her fingers across Gabe’s, and he closed his hand over hers with an impossibly grateful expression. She gave his hand a squeeze and felt her lips curve into a small smile. She wished she could say more.
Of course, I’d love to dance with you. Don’t you look handsome tonight?

Maybe he understood from her expression alone, for he straightened to his full height and rolled his shoulders back, looking even more handsome in his expertly tailored black suit and crisp white shirt. His dark curly hair had been tamed a bit, his mother’s doing perhaps.

Annie smiled more fully at him, and they quickly found a set forming that needed a fourth.

She took a calming breath to settle her nerves. She hadn’t danced in a long time, not like this, with all these people watching. And never in such elegant surroundings.

Soon the music started up, and Annie forgot all that. All her attention was on the dance, on turning when she was supposed to, taking Gabe’s elbow now, releasing him, turning again, crossing over shoulder to shoulder with the man across from them, returning to her spot, and then the promenade... And the rhythm of the string band took over her feet. Her heart lightened too, and her concerns about Creed melted away. At least for the moment.

She thought of Jem then and wondered if he would ask her to dance. How would it feel to be swung around the dance floor in his arms...

THIRTY-FIVE

A
s Jem stood across the ballroom with Ben and Adam Booker, he kept an eye out for Annie dancing with Gabe. Adam was giving Ben some very basic advice about his savings, and Jem found his mind wandering, wishing he was the one dancing with Annie and not young Gabe.

He dragged his attention back to Adam forcibly. The banker was dressed in his wedding clothes: an immaculate black evening coat, trousers, and polished shoes. His shirt was dazzlingly white, with a tall white collar pressed into two wing points and a black tie. As before, his hair was neatly trimmed and his face clean shaven. He looked the kind of man who went places in life. He just had that air of awareness about him, an edginess lying under the surface. This was a young man who liked to
do
—not sit and boss underlings around.

That was Jem’s impression anyway. Too bad Adam would be returning to Denver after the wedding. Ben could use a good friend. He so often seemed burdened down by his own grief.

Burdened down by his own grief.

The words struck home in an uncomfortable way, and Jem paused a moment to scratch thoughtfully at his beard.

He knew grief too.

Was he
burdened down
?

He thought of Mae reaching up to tug at his beard and giving him her most ferocious frown. Tonight, among all these refined city folks, he felt a bit like a grizzled miner just come down off the mountain. And he felt a little too warm too. Why was he holding on to the thing? Mae didn’t like it. He wondered suddenly what Annie’s opinion was. Did she like it? Did it matter to him if she didn’t?

Yes
.

He glanced over at her dancing with Gabe. There was no other way to say it: they were gamboling about the dance floor. No one would claim they were very accomplished dance partners, but their smiles were infectious. As quick as that Jem’s thoughts turned to Gabe’s father. Major Elias Creed.

Jem caught sight of him standing on the edge of the dance floor. He was staring at Gabe and Annie, his expression flat, much like he’d bitten into something gone bad but not wishing to show it. What kind of man was he? The thought sometimes kept Jem up at night. What had he meant to do with Annie? What had he wanted with Sugar, even? Creed hadn’t seemed attached to her at all that day—the puppy, that is. The way he’d pulled at that chain. An angry man. Impatient. That much was clear.

Creed’s eyes were fixed on Annie now, trailing down her figure from head to hem.

Jem’s nails cut into his palm. His hand had unconsciously curved into a fist. When he overheard Ben mentioning Creed’s name, all his senses went on alert.

“You’re in business with
Elias Creed
? Major Elias Creed?” Adam was asking Ben in a strangely guarded fashion.

“He’s my neighbor. We’ve been working together,” Ben said, causing Jem’s stomach to sour.

Several times, Jem had considered discouraging Ben from doing business with Creed, but until now he’d kept out of it. The everyday running of the ranch was in Ben’s hands, after all. Though Jem owned a share as part of Mae’s future inheritance that was mostly on paper. Jem’s own role was more loosely defined. He was on call to help out with the horses whenever needed.

“Creed was the one negotiating,” Ben added.

“Negotiating with whom?” Adam asked. It may have been Jem’s imagination, but it seemed like the banker’s jaw tightened.

“The Army,” Ben answered. Maybe he picked up on Adam’s disapproval as well, for his tone turned defensive. “Creed’s the one with the army contacts, so he was the one negotiating, like I said. So it’s not my fault the deal fell through.”

“Fell through?” Adam echoed. A frown creased his brow. He seemed more perplexed than anything now. “When was that?”

“Early August.”

“And you say the deal
fell through
?”

“What?” Ben demanded. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Nothing.”

“Adam.” Ben leaned closer to his friend, his voice lowering. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything,” Adam protested, his face turning red. There was something about the way he turned his gaze out the darkened window that struck Jem as if the young man wasn’t telling the truth. Or perhaps he
couldn’t
tell the truth. Probably banker confidentiality.

“He was flashing around quite a bit of money when I was coming into town,” Jem offered.

“What? He was?” Ben asked, increasingly agitated. He peered into the crowd, likely searching for Creed.

“It was my impression that he’d recently bought Sugar—our dog,” Jem added for Adam’s benefit. “And he gave that preacher an eye-popping amount for Annie.” He didn’t mention that he’d forked over even more himself to keep Creed away from her.

“For Annie?” Adam gaped at him, clearly shocked. He glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. His gaze skipped off Creed in an uncomfortable fashion, and finally settled on Annie dancing with Gabe. His expression turned grave.

Perhaps he wasn’t shocked after all. Not fully.

He turned his back to the dance floor and edged them all closer to the window. “Listen, I didn’t say this.”

Jem shared a glance with Ben, and he gave Adam a discreet nod. Ben followed his lead.

“What do you know?” Ben asked again.

“A very large deposit was transferred to Creed’s personal account in August. Very large.”

“But the deal fell through.”

“That may be,” Adam said agreeably. “I’m not disputing that Creed lost the deal.
That
deal anyway.”

“But—”

“But,” Adam interrupted, “he somehow wound up with a small fortune.”

“Fortune?”

“A small one.”

Ben looked like he needed to sit down.

“Do you know where the money came from?” Jem asked.

Adam withdrew into himself again, that same banker’s conscientiousness crossing his features. And yet he somehow managed to look younger, unsure. He simply shook his head.

“Adam?” Jem prompted. “If you know something, it might be important.”

Adam hesitated one beat longer, then sighed. “I can’t say any more, except—except a judge would recognize this name. The police would too...”

Jem swept the crowd again. He saw Creed, standing there with his beautiful wife and his sons, all of them dressed to the teeth. The man practically exuded fortune and wealth. A man of power and presence.

Where was he getting his money from if not from horse deals with the army and other buyers? Evidently, if Jem had read through what Adam said and what he refused to reveal, Creed had friends on the wrong side of the law. Why didn’t that surprise him?

* * *

After their dance, Annie stood among the other couples with Gabe. He gave her a rather gallant bow, his face flushed from their exertions on the dancefloor. She dropped into an exaggerated curtsy that made them both laugh under their breaths.

“You d-dance beautifully,” he said, flushing even more.

Annie simply smiled. She signed her thanks, hoping he understood.

“Gabe!” the sound of Creed’s bark sent a chill through Annie and she glanced at Gabe, unable to hide her alarm.

“Go on,” he urged. “Be quick.”

She shot him a grateful smile and disappeared into the crowd. She continued to glance back to see if Creed was following her. Then she heard the sound of his voice again, fading in the opposite direction. Perhaps Gabe had intercepted him, led him away. She hoped so. She had no wish to come face to face with the man ever again.

After a few moments, her heart rate gradually slowed to something approaching normal.

Annie searched through the blur of unfamiliar faces for Jem. Eventually she saw him by a far window, speaking in close conference with Ben and Adam. She stumbled to a stop. The sound of a rousing country dance filled her ears. They were starting the next set.

One of the couples swept past so closely the woman’s skirt brushed against Annie’s. Faces turned toward, stares resting on her, as real as fingertips glancing off her skin. She needed to get out of the way. But she couldn’t stop watching Jem.

Wherever he went these day her eyes would follow—on the ranch, at church, here in this large ballroom. It was a hunger. She’d never felt like this before. In some ways it thrilled her, but it also left her vulnerable. Whether he knew it or not, Jem had the power to hurt her. By simply ignoring her. By one disappointed glance.

It was like she had an empty space in her heart now. A place meant for Jem.

Was that what love was? Surely, it was too soon for that. Perhaps it was merely attraction. She wanted him to
see
her, to look at her with the same interest she had for him and—dare she admit?—with the same affection she felt.

When had she come to crave his regard?

If she wanted Jem’s regard, it seemed she must do something to attain it. She’d seen girls back home who’d chase after some boy, flouncing their skirts or tossing their hair. Annie hadn’t understood them. Her lips had twitched, and she’d raised her eyebrows. And now she was that girl—except she’d never flounce her skirt or toss her hair It seemed too forward. She wasn’t that girl.

What girl am I then?

She could cook, but Jem didn’t need a cook. Ray made delicious meals every day. What else did she have that a man like Jem would want? There was one obvious thing a man might want. Annie blushed. She wouldn’t dare put herself forward in such a way. Never in her life had she even been kissed by a man.

Jem had only asked one thing of her: to watch Mae, and she did. She’d do so forever if she needed to. But it seemed he only noticed her when she fell short. Why exactly did she find him fascinating? The thought prompted a small wry smile.

Well, he might not find her fascinating, but she had very good reasons to admire him. He was a good father. He was good to his animals. And he was surprisingly patient with Ben. He worked hard on the ranch—and he seemed dissatisfied unless his work was well done. Those were a fine
fine
qualities in a man, and it made her proud to be his wife. Even if it was only on paper.

Jem had also loved his wife. And he still missed her. Perhaps that meant he wasn’t ready for love. But he’d looked out for Annie when no one else had. He’d stepped up and done something instead of standing by.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a young man with two cups of sloshing red punch stood before her, intent on passing by. Its sweet fruity scent wafted to her. The young man cleared his throat meaningfully and gave her a hopeful smile.

She was blocking his way.

Annie mumbled under her breath, aware now that she was standing on the corner of one of the dance sets. Whenever one of the four couples swung her way, they had to avoid colliding with her.

Annie hurriedly gathered her skirts and wove her way toward Jem.

He looked up as if sensing her approach. His eyes fixed upon her until she came to a stop before him. She nodded self-consciously to Ben and Adam, barely aware of their polite greetings, because Jem extended his hand toward her. She was also dimly aware that the music had come to a stop. A new set would begin soon.

“Dance with me?” Jem asked.

And that’s when the dream began. For it couldn’t have been real to have his hand wrapped around hers, his touch sending warm tingles up her arm. He had the most curious effect on her, one she’d felt before. She hadn’t felt this surge of awareness when Gabe had settled his hand on the small of her back to lead her to the dance floor, as Jem was now. Burning through several layers of cloth. How large his hands were. How tall and handsome he looked in his suit. How refined, even with the full beard and longish hair that fell past the top of his collar. It didn’t seem to matter. There would always be something about Jem that would attract a woman’s gaze. The easy way in which he moved. The glint of confidence in his eyes.

Several young ladies and matrons nearby seemed to have difficulty not following him with their eyes. And yet he was dancing with
her
—Annie. A foster girl from one of the smallest towns in Tennessee. He wasn’t simply dancing with her. He was
married
to her. She might not have a ring on her finger to declare their union, but that didn’t make it any less so. At least she didn’t think it did. He’d signed the paper and she’d signed it too. As far as she was concerned, that made it all legal, right and tight.