The Bride Price (18 page)

“It’s fine.” Removing the borrowed jacket,
Sophie handed it back to James and watched as he moved to the
corner of the foyer but not out of sight.

“Sophie, I apologize for raising my voice.
Everyone was concerned when we were unable to locate you. At first
I wasn’t as worried, thinking you were visiting Samson but when we
got to the barn and heard you antagonizing that bastard and then
saw him hit you, I just lost my mind. If James hadn’t acted so
quickly, I think I might have killed him.”

Sophie scowled. “So, I was antagonizing him
and that’s why he hit me?”

“That’s not what I said,” Richard argued.

“Actually, it’s exactly what you said. Why is
it, Richard, that regardless of the situation, you jump to the
conclusion that I somehow brought it on myself? You have this
attitude that women are weak and incapable of doing anything
without a big strong man around to guide us. I don’t know where you
got the impression that you are my protector. I have never asked
for that, nor promised more than friendship. I expect my friends to
respect me. You seem incapable of that.”

“Sophie, that’s absurd.” He ran his hands
through his hair.

“Which part, Richard? The part that you
should respect me or the part that you think I am weak?”

“Sophie, you’re blowing this out of
proportion. That man was drunk and extremely aggressive.”

“You’re
drunk and aggressive!”

Richard put his hands to his head in obvious
frustration. “There was no way you could have fought him off.”

Sophie pointed at him in accusation. “Maybe
not, but that doesn’t make me weak, or an idiot for taking a walk
with Christine without you escorting us. It also doesn’t give you
the right to rule over me.”

Richard reached out to touch her but she
deflected him. He lowered his hand and closed it into a fist at his
side. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Richard, I am safe.” She settled her palm
over her chest in earnestness. “Look, I’m sorry if we scared you,
and I agree that we should have at least told someone where we were
going, but you don’t own me and I certainly don’t answer to you. If
you want this friendship to continue, I need you to remember that.
Right now, I’d appreciate some space. Do you think you can do that
for me?”

Richard nodded. “I don’t want to fight with
you, Sophie. Truce?”

“Yes, truce. Now, why don’t the three of you
go back in, and I’ll join you shortly.”

“I’ll stay with you.” Christine followed
Sophie to her room. “Is everything all right? Well, besides the
obvious?”

Sophie closed the door and took a deep
breath. “Yes, I just needed a minute without the Neanderthal
hovering. That man drives me crazy. I don’t understand where he
gets off thinking he owns me. He’s so intense and I don’t always
know how to react. The way he grabbed me tonight scared me, but it
also made me angry, because I hate that he’s ruining our
friendship.” She ranted as she paced, hands flailing in
frustration.

“What happened after we left the barn?”

Sophie paused and crossed her arms. “Nothing
happened. Well, other than crying all over the poor lieutenant’s
jacket and looking like a totally unbalanced female.”

Christine wrapped an arm around her
shoulders. “It was a frightening experience. I had a moment myself
on the way back to the house. I thought Richard was going to have
an apoplexy. He’s not accustomed to a crying female. Did the
lieutenant understand?”

“That’s just it. He’s wonderful. Sweet and
totally understanding. He held me and stroked my hair and made me
feel protected and loved.” Sophie sat down on the trunk and put her
face in her hands. “He reminds me so much of Jamie.”

“Well, we should go down to the party and try
to forget this upset, have a pleasant evening, and put all of this
behind us. What do you say?”

“All right, Christine, I’ll try.”

Sophie stood and she and Christine made their
way back downstairs. Walking through the foyer and down the hall to
the ballroom, they saw James turn and look straight at Sophie. He
was standing just outside the doors, and the vision of him took her
back to her wedding. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed before,
but he was wearing the exact uniform Jamie wore that day. She
grabbed Christine’s hand for stability.

“Sophie, what’s amiss?” she whispered.

Sophie took a couple of deep breaths to calm
herself. “Memories.”

They continued to the doors of the
ballroom.

“Lieutenant Emerson, shouldn’t you be
inside?” Christine smiled.

“I was taking some air and preparing to go
inside when I saw you. I thought I’d wait and escort you in.”

“So, you weren’t hovering around to make sure
we were all right?” Sophie asked.

“Wouldn’t even think about it,” he said with
a huge grin.

“Good answer.” Sophie smiled as her heart
beat double-time and she laid her palm over her chest as if to calm
it.

James suddenly seemed nervous. “What’s wrong
with your heart?”

“My heart?” She raised an eyebrow at him and
lowered her hand. “Nothing. I just do that sometimes, it’s an old
habit.”

His stare lingered briefly but he didn’t
comment further.

“Did you get ice for your hand?” Sophie
asked.

James studied the bruises. “No need.”

Sophie turned to Christine. “I’m going to
take the Lieutenant to the kitchen, go on in without me.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “Is that wise?”

Sophie frowned. “Why would it be unwise?”

Christine pulled her aside. “You shouldn’t be
alone with a man.”

“How am I alone? The house is full of guests,
not to mention staff. I promise I won’t find an empty room and kiss
him senseless—tonight.”

Christine gasped as her face turned beet red.
“You are terrible.”

Sophie giggled. “I know. Now, go join the
party.” Sophie walked her back to the doors of the ballroom and
waited for Christine to let herself inside before facing the
Lieutenant. “Follow me, please.”

“Ma’am, it’s really not necessary.”

Her head whipped up. “If you call me ‘ma’am’
one more time, I’ll convince Michael to amputate that hand,” she
threatened as she led him down one corridor and then another on
their way to the kitchen.

James laughed. A loud, deep, belly laugh, and
Sophie nearly lost her mind. It was the same. The exact same.

“You have quite the vicious sense of humor,
ma—I mean, Sophie.”

Sophie grinned. “Good save.”

Voices and smells wafted through the hallway
as the couple arrived at the kitchen, and Sophie led him inside, a
smile covering her face when she saw the cook directing everyone in
her matronly voice.

When Sophie had first met Mary, she was taken
aback. The woman was taller than she was—and thinner. She reminded
Sophie of a flamingo, however, her countenance was that of a strict
governess and her dark brown hair, peppered with gray, didn’t fit
Sophie’s idea of what a nineteenth-century cook would look like,
but she instantly loved her all the same. Sophie had always been
drawn to the older generation, the crankier the better, and Jamie
used to tell her she could charm the socks off anyone over the age
of fifty.

“How’s my favorite cook?” Sophie asked as she
approached the woman.

“You stop right there, Missie. You’re not
allowed in my kitchens.”

“As you’ve said, Mary. However, I have a
soldier with a nasty bruised hand and I was hoping you might have
some ice for him.”

Mary stared at James, suspicion in her eyes.
“Why does he have a bruised hand?”

Sophie leaned over and whispered, “He was
defending my honor.”

A grunt was Mary’s only reply as she turned
and found a block of ice and an ice pick. Sophie watched James’s
expression as the woman picked off a mound of ice and nearly
giggled as he stepped back slightly. Mary was quite adept at using
the ice pick—a little too adept.

Wrapping the shavings into a sackcloth, Mary
handed it to Sophie and then shooed her from the room but not
before Sophie caught her quick wink. Sophie led James down the hall
and to a small alcove that housed a bench perfect for the couple to
sit on before joining the party. “Sit.”

He did so, and Sophie pulled his injured hand
toward her. She laid the icepack gently over his knuckles, holding
it in place as she sat and settled his hand on her lap. Raising her
head, she caught his expression, and her heart stammered at the
confusion she read in his eyes, but then he smiled and the look was
gone.

“Better?” Her voice was gravelly with
emotion.

“Much.” His smile deepened. “Thank you.”

“Miss Sophie?”

Sophie looked up to find Betty walking
quickly toward them. “Hi, Betty. Did you need something?”

“I was asked to retrieve you, ma’am.”

Sophie stood and tried to keep the irritation
from her voice. “
Retrieve
me?”

James stood as well and Betty stepped back
slightly. “Yes’m.”

“By whom?” he asked.

Betty cleared her throat but didn’t answer
the question.

“Betty?” Sophie crossed her arms. “By
whom?”

Betty studied her shoes. “Mr. Madden.”

“Thank you, Betty,” Sophie said through
gritted teeth. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Betty didn’t budge. Sophie narrowed her eyes.
“What?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I am to escort you.”

“Are you
kidding
me?” Feeling a hand
gently touch her back, Sophie took a deep breath and forced a
smile. “Betty, you don’t work for Richard Madden, so please don’t
worry about getting into trouble. I’ll be along shortly.”

Before Betty could respond, heavy footsteps
echoed in the hallway and Sophie glared as Richard approached. “You
are supposed to be in the ballroom.”

“And you are supposed to be giving me space,”
she countered.

“What were you doing?”

“None of your business.”

Richard turned his gaze to the lieutenant.
“Missing your mama, James? Has the ice helped?”

James chuckled but Sophie moved to strike.
“You are such a jerk!”

“Sophie,” James whispered in warning under
his breath, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Sophie, come back inside, and we’ll dance.”
Richard’s tone was laced with warning.

“I’m not dancing with you, and I’m not coming
back inside until I know my guest is comfortable.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Mrs. Ford.” James handed
the ice to Betty. “Shall we return?”

Sophie shook, anger coursing through her
veins, as she tried to get her emotions under control. “Yes,
lieutenant. Let’s join the party.”

Richard offered his arm but Sophie glanced at
him before wrapping her hand in the crook of James’s elbow.
Catching the flash of anger in Richard’s eyes, she glared at him in
response and swept her hand in front of her. “After you,
Mr.
Madden.”

Richard paused for several seconds but
eventually made his move toward the ballroom. Sophie held James
back for a few extra seconds and then let him lead her in the same
direction.

“You are poking the bear, Mrs. Ford.”

Sophie gasped at the use of one of her
favorite expressions. She used to warn Jamie the same way when Luke
was angry. For whatever reason, Jamie liked to push his best friend
almost to the point of physical altercation and Sophie never
understood why. “Where did you hear that?”

“I’m sorry?”

“That expression. I didn’t realize it was
common in, uh—these parts.”

James’s eyebrows puckered. “I’m not certain.
I don’t believe I’ve ever used it before, but it seemed appropriate
in this situation.”

Sophie chuckled. “Most definitely. And yes,
I’m poking the bear. He’s being a jerk and I don’t care for it.”
Sophie leaned over and added in a whisper, “I don’t belong to
him.”

They arrived at the doors of the ballroom,
Richard standing sentry and glaring in James’s general direction.
James escorted Sophie inside, the moment was forgotten, and the
rest of the evening passed without incident.

The party wrapped up just after midnight and
Sophie couldn’t have been more relieved. Exhausted and wanting to
curl up in a ball and sleep for a year, she waited with Christine
in the foyer and said farewell to the final guests with Michael and
Nona, as Richard and James both walked up. Michael and Nona said
their goodnights and then the girls walked the men out to the front
porch. James said farewell to Christine and turned to Sophie.

“Mrs. Ford, it was very nice to meet you.
Thank you for a lovely evening.” Her stomach somersaulted as he
took her hand and kissed it.

As he lowered his hand, she noticed something
on his palm. “Lieutenant, how did you get that scar on your
hand?”

He stared at it briefly before answering, “I
don’t remember.”

“That’s quite a nasty scar not to remember
how you got it.”

Richard interrupted any further conversation
by taking both Sophie’s hands in his. He kissed them, lingering a
little longer than was perhaps necessary, and forcing her to smell
his alcohol-laden breath. “Sophie, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep
well.”

Sophie and Christine went upstairs, helped
each other out of their dresses, and then went to bed. Sophie, too
emotionally drained to dwell on the bizarre night, fell into a deep
sleep.

* * *

“Baby, are you remembering now?”

“Jamie?” Sophie opened her eyes, but it
wasn’t Jamie standing over her bed. “James?”

“Remember the cut?”

Sophie thought back to the night Jamie made
dinner and the shout she’d heard from the kitchen. Rushing into the
room, she found blood everywhere, and Jamie standing over the sink
with a bloody towel wrapped around his hand, his face pinched in
pain.

“Baby, what happened?” Sophie asked.

“I sliced open my hand. Dang, it hurts. If I
can just get the bleeding stopped, I think it’ll be fine. We’ll
wrap it tight and I’ll be good to go.”