The Husband Hunt (Smoky Mountain Matches) (19 page)

He twisted his head to look at him. “What’s that?”

“Promise me you’ll deal with this. After all, you can’t run forever.”

* * *

Exiting the church, Nathan waited near the stairs, determined to speak with Sophie. He hadn’t seen her all week. Although he’d toyed with the notion of going to see her, he’d ultimately decided against it, surmising she was probably busy planning her wedding. Watching her during the service today, however, sandwiched between Frank and his domineering mother, he couldn’t deny she looked miserable. As miserable as he felt.

Those in attendance now making their way to their wagons tossed him curious glances. Moving deeper into the shadows cast by a live oak planted at the building’s corner, he attempted to uncoil his taut upper back muscles, to relax his shoulders. He didn’t want to argue with her. This would be a pleasant how-are-you-doing conversation.

Gaze on the doorway, he saw Cordelia and Sophie emerge first, followed by Will, Frank and Bonnie. At the top of the stairs, Sophie happened to glance his way, full lips parting in surprise. Dressed in a butter-yellow creation that highlighted the blond streaks in her hair, she was a vision of loveliness.

When their party reached the ground, he lifted his hand and called to her. With a quick word to Cordelia, she separated herself and joined him beneath the tree. Frank tipped his hat before moving on. Bonnie looked disapproving. He ignored them, training his focus on Sophie.

The scent of dandelions filled his nostrils, and he breathed deeply, wanting to contain the delicate fragrance for future reference. He pressed damp palms against his trousers. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Fidgeting with the pearl buttons on her bodice, she exuded a guardedness that irked him. His childhood friend was one of the most open, transparent women he knew. Was this what he could expect from now on?

“Do you want to come over for lunch?” he blurted, hoping for some time alone with her. He missed his friend. “Ma baked peach pie.”

“I can’t.” Her face was a blank mask. “Will and I are having lunch at the Lamberts’.”

“Oh.” Frustration speared him. “Have you been spending more time with your aunt, then?”

“Yes.” Her gaze moved to some distant point beyond his shoulder. “I’ve come to realize she’s not a mean-spirited person. Just incredibly lonely with a penchant for bossing people around. I believe she’s learning that in order to have friends, she has to first be a friend.”

Nathan wanted to shake her. “I find it difficult to fathom how easily you’ve accepted her role in your current situation.”

Mr. and Mrs. Conner strolled past, openly gawking.

Taking hold of her hand, he tugged her around the corner, away from prying eyes.

“She’s my aunt,” she stated defensively. “She’s the only family we have left. I can hardly cut her out of my life.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he demanded, “When were you planning on telling me of your engagement?”

A storm surged in her eyes, unnamed emotions swirling, clashing with his. “I told you of my plans that night in the barn.”

At last, proof she was alive inside that indifferent shell. Softening his tone, he touched her sleeve. “You don’t look happy about it. Is Frank’s ma treating you fairly?”

She tried to shrug off the question. “Bonnie’s in shock right now. I’m sure she’ll eventually grow accustomed to the fact she has to share her only son.”

Nathan could see the hurt simmering beneath the surface, the unhappiness she was trying so desperately to hide from him. This wasn’t a future worthy of her. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing. He had to fix this.

“Marry me,” he blurted.

Sophie’s head snapped up. The color leached from her face. Groping for the wall behind her, she sagged against it. “W-what did you just say?”

He wasn’t at all sure where that proposal had come from, but an odd sense of rightness swept away the shock reverberating through him. They were friends. He could do this for her. “Think about it, Soph. You’re already an unofficial member of our family. If you marry me, you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Wary, disbelieving, she studied his face. “I thought you said we wouldn’t suit.”

“We’ve managed to stay friends all these years,” he pointed out. “I think we could make it work, don’t you?” Intent on helping her, he took her hands in his. “When I found out you were with Landon, and I couldn’t get to you, didn’t know whether or not you were okay, the fear and worry nearly crushed me. As my wife, you’ll be safe. Protected.”

Wincing, she tugged her hands free. “That’s just it, Nathan, I don’t need protecting. As much as you refuse to see it, I can take care of myself. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t marry you.”

Why was she being so stubborn? Couldn’t she see she’d be miserable with Frank? “Maybe you should take some time to think about it.”

Pushing away from the wall, she set her shoulders and looked him square in the eyes. “I won’t allow you to sacrifice your happiness. Not for my sake.”

“My happiness isn’t at issue here. Since I’ve never been keen on the idea of marriage, it doesn’t really matter who—” He clamped his lips tight at the dawning horror on her face.

“Go on, finish it. It doesn’t matter who you marry.”

“That didn’t come out right,” he mumbled.
Way to go, O’Malley.

“No, I think your meaning is crystal clear.”

When she turned to go, he clutched her wrist. “Wait, Sophie—”

“You know what your problem is?” She pivoted back, eyes glittering. “When it comes to me, you have this warped sense of duty. You’ve made it your life’s mission to protect me, Nathan, if not from others then from myself.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Her mouth fell open. “What’s wrong with that? If I married you, you’d quickly grow to resent me! I’d become a burden.”

Sophie? A burden? “No. That’s impossible.”

Her mouth pursed in disagreement.

“Besides, how are Frank’s reasons for marrying you any better than mine?”

Her luminous gaze speared his. “Frank admires me. He wants to marry me because he believes I’ll be a good wife to him. Can you say the same?”

The direct question leveled him. Worry and an overabundance of protective instinct where she was concerned had prompted his spontaneous proposal. Not attraction, despite the fact Sophie had but to look at him to heat his blood to dangerous levels. Not admiration, although he couldn’t deny she possessed many admirable traits. Certainly not love...

“Is there any other reason you’d want to marry me, Nathan?” she softly prompted, her vulnerable expression a dagger in the heart, especially considering what he was about to do.

“I—” Regret weighing him down, he gave a slow shake of his head. “No. There isn’t.”

Her face crumpled. “Then there’s nothing left to say.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Please.” She held out a hand to ward him off. “I can’t—”

“Sophie?” Frank appeared around the corner, brow furrowing in concern when he spotted her. His gaze volleyed back and forth. “Sorry to interrupt, but your aunt sent me to tell you she’s impatient for her lunch.”

“T-thank you, Frank.” Indifferent acceptance wreathed her pale features. However, twin flags of bright color in her cheeks revealed her disquiet. “I’ll walk with you.”

Without a single glance Nathan’s way, she went to join her intended.

Watching Frank take her arm in quiet consideration, Nathan felt as if something precious was slipping through his fingers. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Chapter Twenty-One

S
o she’d rejected his proposal. It wasn’t as if she’d broken his heart or anything. There were no feelings involved here. He’d offered to help based on their long-standing friendship. Turned out she hadn’t wanted his help.

So why was he so disappointed?

Shaking off the traitorous thought, he rounded the bend leading to Megan’s house. Needing to clear his head, he’d excused himself immediately after lunch and gone for a walk. And here he was on his cousin’s doorstep. May as well announce his presence. He could do with a distraction. Besides, he hadn’t seen much of the newlyweds since their return.

Madge Calhoun answered the doorbell’s summons. “Come on in.” She waved him inside the spacious entryway and offered to take his hat. “They’re in the garden parlor. Go on back and I’ll bring you some coffee.”

She bustled in the opposite direction before he could thank her. Glancing in the oval mirror above the hall table, he attempted to smooth his hair that, come to think of it, was in desperate need of a trim. He shook his head at his reflection. Normally he kept on top of these things. That’s what happened when a man allowed himself to become preoccupied by a woman and her problems.

With a sigh, he made his way past the gleaming stairway swirling toward the lofty ceiling and along a floral-papered hall to the back of the house. “The garden parlor,” she’d called it. A person had too many rooms when they took to naming them, he thought wryly.

He was happy for Megan, though. If anyone deserved love and happily-ever-after, it was his big-hearted cousin. Nathan had had his doubts about the wealthy New Orleans gentleman at first, but he’d seen with his own eyes how much Lucian treasured her.

Stepping over the threshold, boots sinking into the plush sage-and-cream rug, his gaze landed on Megan, seated together with her husband on the sofa, a pile of cloth napkins in her lap. Momentarily forgotten, from the looks of it. Lucian cradled her close to his chest, gazing deeply into her eyes, mirroring sappy expressions on their faces.

He should go. The floorboard creaked as he took a retreating step, preventing his escape.

Megan’s blond head and Lucian’s dark brown one snapped up.

“Nathan!” Her face lit with pleasure. Setting the napkins aside, she navigated around the mahogany coffee table and approached with hands outstretched. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

In her flowing pink dress, curls held back with a matching ribbon, she looked beautiful and refreshed, her eyes shining with contentment.

Lucian stood. To his credit, he didn’t appear perturbed at the interruption. Reaching his wife’s side, he shook Nathan’s hand. Grinned wryly. “We’re supposed to be decorating for this afternoon’s bridal shower, but I’m afraid we got sidetracked.”

His breath hitched. “Bridal shower?”

“For Sophie.” She smiled happily, white-blond curls quivering. “Maybe you can help us,” she suggested, waving a hand around the airy, botanical-inspired room. “We’ll need chairs brought in from the library, and of course, Fred will need help carrying in the flower vases. I’ve got to finish folding these napkins—”

Mrs. Calhoun arrived then with cups of steaming coffee spread out on a large tray. “I’ve brought cream and sugar,” she said, sliding it onto the low table. Smoothing her apron, she addressed Megan. “Would you like cookies or slices of apple pie to go with it?”

“Oh, no, thank you. We’ll be indulging in plenty of sweets when our guests arrive.”

With a nod, the older woman left.

“Come sit down, Nathan.” Resuming her seat, Megan motioned for him to take the chair closest to her. “Have some coffee while you tell me everything that’s been going on with you these past weeks.”

Reluctantly he lowered himself into the sumptuously cushioned chair and took the cup and saucer she held out. He sipped the slightly spicy brew.

“Do you like it?” She watched him expectantly. “It contains chicory. We brought a barrel of it from New Orleans.”

Leaning back against the cushions, Lucian smiled indulgently at her, then tossed Nathan a lifeline. “It’s not for everyone. If you don’t like it, we can get you the regular stuff.”

He lowered the cup to his lap. “It has an interesting flavor.”

“It took me a while to get used to,” she admitted, “but now I prefer it.”

“Good thing we can order a supply whenever you wish,
mon chou,
” Lucian murmured.

“Now if we could only teach Mrs. Calhoun how to make beignets.” She sighed wistfully. “You would adore them, Nathan. Little fried bits of doughy heaven.”

Recognizing an opportunity to forestall further questions about himself, he suggested, “Tell me about your trip. What did you like most about Lucian’s home?”

The ploy worked. Megan answered his questions in full detail, and when she’d exhausted that subject, Nathan inquired after her older sister, Juliana.

Immediately following their July nuptials, Lucian and Megan had traveled to Cades Cove to see Juliana, Evan and their new baby before making their way down to Louisiana. Watching Megan’s excitement as she described the infant, Nathan could see how eager she was to start her own family.

When the mantel clock chimed the three o’clock hour, Megan’s hand flew to her mouth. “I lost all track of time! We only have an hour before the guests arrive.”

“There’s plenty of time.” Lucian began clearing the cups. “I’ll go and get the chairs while you finish those napkins.”

“I’ll help you,” Nathan told him, pushing to his feet. Since he was responsible for Megan’s distraction, he would do his part, making certain he left before the bride-to-be arrived.

That’s how he must think of her. The bride-to-be. Frank’s fiancée.

Not Sophie or Soph. Not the girl next door. Not his lifelong friend.

Just a girl who was about to walk the aisle to marry someone else.

* * *

This was proving to be the longest day of her life.

What should have been a fun-filled afternoon with friends and family, eating too-sweet cake and opening gifts, was turning out to be a sore test of Sophie’s acting abilities. Seated in the middle of Megan’s lovely parlor, all the prettily dressed ladies circled around oohing and aahing over each and every gift, her smile was pasted on, her enthusiasm forced. She was playing the part of the enthusiastic bride, and, from the looks of things, was executing her part rather well.

Her aunt, however, was not fooled. Sophie sensed it in the way the older woman watched her, a subtle knowing in her astute gaze. Spending time with Cordelia this past week had wrought a change in Sophie’s heart, a softening toward the other woman, a deep well of compassion that could have only been accomplished by God. Knowing the resentment and anger she’d harbored didn’t please Him, she’d asked Him to alter her attitude, and He had.

Cordelia was abrasive at times, and irritatingly demanding, but she’d suffered a lot of heartache in her life, much of it at the hands of Sophie’s pa. Unable to have children, all she’d had was her husband. And now that he was gone, she was all alone. Sophie was certain loneliness had prompted her ultimatum. Cordelia had no doubt assumed Sophie and Will would choose to live with her, and when they didn’t, pride prevented her from backing down. Pride and old-fashioned thinking. Her aunt just couldn’t accept that Sophie could hack it on her own.

Focus on the positive, Sophia Lorraine. You get to keep Will. You get to stay here, in the mountains you adore and the town that knows you.

Positive. Right. If only Nathan hadn’t proposed. If only she hadn’t glimpsed, for sweet, precious seconds, a lifetime with her one true love. Those seconds were enough to bring her to her knees. How perilously close she’d come to accepting. The only thing capable of stopping her was the utter lack of true emotion on his face. If she’d seen even a glimmer of longing or affection or admiration, she’d have done it. Instead he’d been logical and calm and perfectly reasonable. This was Nathan assuming his knight-on-a-white-horse persona. This was him helping out a friend in need without a thought to what price he’d be paying.

She’d have made him miserable. Maybe not in a week or a month or even a year. But eventually, he’d have regretted marrying her. And that would’ve killed her.

Jane had been tasked with handing out the gifts, while Jessica kept a list for thank-you notes. Auburn ponytail swinging, Jane placed a present, a square box tied up with wide yellow ribbon, on her lap. “This is the last one.” She winked. “It’s from your aunt.”

A hushed silence settled over the room as she untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Staring down at the snowy-white, ribbon-and-lace-adorned nightgown and housecoat, Sophie’s heart pounded with dread. Her cheeks flamed. Wedding night attire.

“What is it, Sophie?” someone asked after a minute.

“Uh...” With trembling fingers, she lifted the garments, holding them up for everyone to see.

“How beautiful!” Ruthanne Moore breathed, hands pressed to her thick throat.

Beside Cordelia, Bonnie’s face turned a horrific puce color. “Scandalous,” she whispered.

Adrift in her misery, Sophie didn’t register the male voices entering the room until it was too late.

“Lucian,” Megan scolded teasingly from her place near the table, “no males allowed in here.”

Sophie didn’t hear his response. Heartbeat thundering in her ears, all she could see was Nathan. Still dressed in his church clothes, charcoal-gray suit pants, black vest and white button-down shirt that enhanced his tanned good looks, he stood rooted to the spot inside the doorway, his gaze on the nightgown in her hands. Hastily, she lowered it back into the box and handed it off to Jane.

His features hardened into a frozen, forbidding mask, his mouth a hard slash of discontentment. Without a word, he pivoted out of the room.

Icy pain burst inside her chest, unfurling outward like ripples on a lake’s surface, scalding every nerve, sinew and muscle and bone tissue it came in contact with. She was dying, wasn’t she? Every part of her screamed for relief.
I can’t do this.

“P-please, e-excuse me,” she stammered, rushing from the room. Let them say what they wanted. Escape was her only focus.

Locating the door that led to the gardens behind the house, she burst through it, stumbled down the steps and half ran for the trees. The stone paths wound along riotous, rainbow-hued flower gardens. Hidden beneath a rose arbor was a stone bench. Shudders racked her body as she collapsed onto it, but no tears came.

How she wished her ma was here to hold her. Or Granddad. Someone to lean on, someone to comfort her but also to remind her of what was at stake if she didn’t follow through with this wedding. Circumstances had forced her to be strong all her life. She couldn’t afford for weakness to triumph now.

After a while, the sun’s warmth chased away her inward chill, and she sat there limp and defeated, unmindful of the beauty surrounding her.

“Here you are, Sophia dear.” Cordelia appeared in front of her, her towering height blocking the sun’s rays. “Are you all right?”

“I apologize for running out on everyone, but I couldn’t stay.” Gaze downcast, she plucked at the ruffles marching across her skirt.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Sophie scooted over to make room.
Please, Lord, I can’t take a lecture right now.

Cordelia sat and meticulously arranged her lavender skirts before folding her white-gloved hands primly in her lap. “What a lovely garden,” she observed with approval. “Not as expansive or elaborate as my own, but still quite nice.”

Raising her head, Sophie cast a sidelong look at her aunt. She didn’t appear perturbed in the slightest.

“You must come and visit sometime,” she continued, still glancing around in interest. “There’s one room in particular I think you’d fancy. The rose room, all done up in soft mauves and pinks and greens with an enormous canopy overtop the bed. It has one of the finest views of the property.”

“It sounds beautiful.” For the first time, a visit to Knoxville appealed to her. A visit on
her
terms.

“It’s yours whenever and however long you’d like.” To her surprise, Cordelia smiled. It sat a bit awkwardly on her face, as if the muscles weren’t accustomed to such an action.

“Thank you, Aunt. Perhaps after the wedding...”

The smile faded and was replaced with a concerned pucker. She tipped her head, pastel feathers bobbing wildly. “I gather your current mood has something to do with Nathan, since it was his untimely arrival that drove you from the party. Have you and he had a spat?”

“Not exactly.” Bowing her head, she recalled that agonizing interlude outside the church hours earlier, the hurt he’d inflicted with his brutal honesty. “He asked me to marry him,” she moaned.

“Did he now? You regret refusing him, I take it,” her aunt observed dryly.

“I had to. He was doing what he does best—rescuing me.” She gave a vehement head shake. “I couldn’t let him do it.”

“Is that what you told him?”

“Yes.”

“You love him.”

Sophie met her aunt’s direct gaze. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “What about Frank? What do you feel for him?”

Guilt made her wince. How could she honor Frank when her heart belonged to Nathan? “He’s a sweet man. I care for him as a friend.”

“I see.” Her pencil-thin brows met in the middle. “I confess to never having been in love. I admired and respected my husband. He was intelligent. Kind. We shared many similar opinions. We had a good life together.”

Covering Cordelia’s clasped hands with one of her own, Sophie said, “After what you went through with Pa, it must’ve been extremely difficult to trust. To open up your heart and let someone in.”

Her steel-blue eyes widened and, for a moment, Sophie braced herself for a sharp rebuff. Then she nodded resignedly. “You’re right. I’m not like you, Sophia. As much as Lester’s abandonment must have confused and hurt you, I’m glad he left. You and Will were better off without him.”

Sorrow pierced her heart. “I miss my ma. My memories of her have faded over the years.... I had so little time with her. As for Granddad, I feel his absence every moment of the day.”