Twilight in Texas (25 page)

Molly squeezed his fingers and decided to save him. “Please, ladies, join me downstairs. I’d like to hear all about your trip.”

They hurried out, but Henrietta paused at the door. “Do you always dress like that, Captain?”

“I’m afraid so,” Wolf answered without a hint of apology in his voice.

Molly poked him in the ribs and laughed. The aunts who’d driven her crazy for years actually seemed funny with Wolf around.

He knew better than to stay. As soon as they reached the ground level, he informed them all that he had to go into work for a few hours and not to wait supper on him. Before Molly could react, he pulled her into his arms in full view of both aunts.

“Good-bye, darlin’. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He kissed her on the mouth. She felt his lips spread into a smile as both aunts gasped.

Despite the aunts, Molly spent the day making the house her own. She had Charlie find the owner, then signed the papers before Wolf returned. He questioned why Wolf wasn’t there, but she explained that he was busy. The cash convinced him all was in order, and he asked no more questions.

The aunts tolerated Callie Ann without truly understanding why the child lived with Molly. They treated Early like hired help, which she didn’t seem to mind. It would have been far more disturbing to the girl if the aunts had insisted on talking to her. Charlie frightened Alvina into such a state, she carried her smelling salts in her pocket in case she ran into him. Henrietta watched him as if fearing he might go mad and kill them all.

Despite Molly’s father having been a doctor and a general, the aunts had seen very little of hospitals or war. They always approached the idea that Molly traveled with her father as weakness in Molly’s mind. At first, they’d say things like “poor thing, thinks she has to go with him.” Later, when the habit continued, they’d just shake their heads as though she were an alcoholic too far gone to pull the bottle away.

Charlie didn’t take offense at their dislike of him. He started calling out from the porch instead of entering the house, though. When Molly asked him to stay for supper, Alvina melted onto the parlor couch in a faint. Charlie thanked Molly kindly and asked if he could eat on the porch.

A moment later, Molly thought of taking a whiff of the salts herself when Early offered to join him for dinner.

Wolf didn’t make it back home until late, and when he did, Molly could see by the pain in his eyes that his head ached. He was a powerful man, but she’d seen him weak with fever and somehow felt closer to him because of it. Once, if only for a few hours, he’d needed her.

She set the meal she’d kept warm for him on the table while he washed.

Henrietta stormed into the kitchen. “I thought I heard you come in, Captain. Do you always come in so late?”

“No,” Wolf answered politely. “Some nights I don’t come in at all.”

She looked at Molly. “And you put up with this?”

“I’m afraid so.” Molly smiled. “He’s worth it, you see.”

Henrietta huffed. “Well, I would never tolerate such disregard.” She walked out of the room without so much as a good night.

“She’d have us divorced in a week,” Wolf said.

“Less,” Molly answered.

Alvina strolled through as though the kitchen were on the way to her bedroom. She complained about several discomforts. When no one seemed to be listening, she also disappeared upstairs.

“Where’s the sad-eyed girl?” Wolf asked, accounting for each houseguest. Hoping they were finally alone.

“She’s on the back porch with Charlie. I asked her to take him a blanket after she put Callie Ann to bed. When I checked, they were sitting in the dark, talking.” Molly brushed against his shoulder as she poured milk.

“That’s the best way to talk to Charlie.” Wolf thanked her for the meal with a slight touch along her arm. “The aunts get used to him yet?”

“No. Henrietta told me they’ll cut their first visit to Texas short. I suspect he has something to do with it.”

Wolf looked hopeful. “Short, as in they are leaving tomorrow or the next day?”

Molly shrugged. “I’ve only known them to come for a ‘short’ visit once before.”

“How long did they stay that time?”

“They came to my father’s farm in ’forty-three, and they haven’t officially left yet, so I’m not sure.”

Molly laughed, but Wolf didn’t catch the humor. She thought he looked too tired to eat, though he tried a few bites while watching her every movement.

“I’ll be right back,” Molly said, already running upstairs. She didn’t have to glance back; she knew he stared at her.

A few minutes later, she returned, wearing her robe and carrying a strip of cotton. She’d thought it wise to change clothes before he shared the bedroom with her. Though she guessed it wouldn’t matter after what he’d seen the night before.

Her hands began to shake at the thought that it was almost time for them to go upstairs. Together. She twisted the cotton in her fingers and moved toward him. “I’d like to put a clean dressing on that wound.”

He studied her as if he thought she might like to twist the strip around his throat, but he didn’t move.

She waited while he drank the last of his milk, then cut the bandage away with kitchen scissors.

As she patted the stitches clean of a few drops of dried blood, she felt his breathing change and knew he was aware of how close she stood above him. Almost touching, almost embracing.

“You smell wonderful,” he said, trying to stay still while she worked. “Like all the good things that ever happened to me rolled up together and made into a perfume.”

“You’re healing nicely.” She moved her fingers through his hair to push it back, not knowing how to respond to his words. “Does the wound still give you pain?”

“Some,” he answered. “But right now I can’t say I’m giving it much thought.” He moved his hand along her waist to the center of her back.

“I could mix up something over at Dr. Washburn’s office that would help with headaches.”

“It’ll ease,” he mumbled, then closed his eyes and smiled as she continued to move her fingers through his hair. “I’ve been ordered to stay in town and rest for the next few days.”

“That’s for the best, dear.” She used the endearment because that’s what she should do. He was her husband, and if she were to be his wife she had to act the part.

“Why do you do that?” he asked, without opening his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Move your fingers through my hair.”

Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. It feels good.”

Suddenly, he drew her close and buried his face into the fabric of her robe. “You feel good, so good to me, Molly.”

As she’d promised, she didn’t pull away.

“There is so much that needs saying.” He guided her into his lap. “So much I’d like to tell you, but I don’t know the words.”

Molly tried to relax. “Maybe you should just say them. I’m a good listener.”

He leaned close. “I like you being near. I like being able to touch you and hold you like this.” He was lost for a moment in his thoughts. “After all the years of war and fighting, I need the peace I find when you’re at my side.”

She felt as if he’d given her a gift. She knew he was not a man of words, but somehow he’d managed. She wasn’t sure she could answer. She did like the way his thick hair felt between her fingers, and she was growing used to the length. His beard was much shorter than when they’d met, and she was surprised to find it soft. She liked how she felt protected in his arms.

But what else could she tell this man? She didn’t love him. She wasn’t sure she ever would. But he was good and kind. It would only hurt his feelings if she told him that she’d wanted to be a real wife because she didn’t want to end up like her aunts, living on yesterdays, dried up on life. He’d been a good friend. He’d be a good husband. But never the love of her heart.

Without a word, he stood and lifted her in his arms. He carried her upstairs and into their room as quietly as he could.

The bed had been turned back on one side and a lamp burned brightly on the nightstand. Wolf laid her down and touched her lips, silently asking her not to speak.

He closed the door and stripped to the waist. He could feel her watching him as he washed at the stand near the windows. Her things were on one side of the stand. She’d laid his on the other, including the razor and strop he carried but never used.

If he’d had a nightshirt, he would have worn one for the first time. He pulled off his gun belt and boots, but left his trousers on. He wasn’t sure how much she’d want to see of him.

When he turned the lamp down, the last flicker of light caught in her eyes, bright and frightened.

“Are you sure you want this, Molly?” He couldn’t touch her unless he was sure she was willing. “You don’t have to do this to keep me here. I’ll stick to our original bargain. The aunts need never know.”

“I’m not doing this because of the aunts or anyone else in this town. I want you to touch me the way a man touches a woman.”

He wanted to cry out, “Why?” But he wasn’t sure he could bear to hear the answer. Sitting beside her, he tugged at her robe until it opened to reveal a plain white nightgown. She was so still, he couldn’t tell if she breathed.

“Don’t be afraid.” He smoothed the robe away.

“I’m not,” she lied.

“I would never hurt you.”

“I know.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled into her hair.

He moved the back of his hand over her cheek. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“Will you shave?”

“No.” He laughed as he lowered his mouth to hers. Ever so lightly, he kissed her lips. “But I’ll be careful.”

Molly moved an inch away. “Your beard tickles.”

He gently pulled her mouth back to his. “You’ll get used to it, darlin’.” This time when he kissed her, she didn’t turn away.

She’d expected to feel nothing, to offer only acceptance, but when he kissed her a warmth spread through her. His lips were gentle, tender, not demanding as she’d felt before when he’d pulled her onto his horse to kiss her good-bye.

For a long while, he just kissed her, letting her grow used to him. She gripped handfuls of covers, preparing for what was to come. But nothing happened. He didn’t touch her except with the kiss.

Finally, he rolled away. “Good night, Molly,” he said with his back to her.

“Aren’t you going to do more?” She could have been no more shocked if he’d slapped her. “I thought you wanted me.”

Twisting onto his back, he lay beside her so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, “I do want you, but it’s no good unless you want me.”

“I want you.” She tried to sound convincing.

“No, you don’t.” He met her lie straight on. “You want to be married. Maybe you want to know what you missed by never marrying. Maybe you just don’t want to die an old maid. I don’t know, but one thing I do know is you don’t want me.”

“Yes, I do.” She resented the accusation that she was just using him, even if he had voiced the very thoughts she’d written in her journal.

“I could be any man.” His words were low and blended in anger and hurt. “Why don’t you go get Charlie Filmore out on the porch? Anyone will do.”

“No. I married
you
. I will sleep with you.”

“Do you love me?” The words seemed to cut in his throat as he tried to get them out.

“I can learn.” She tried, but she couldn’t lie about that. “You are the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Have children with. Grow old with.”

She knew he didn’t believe her and she called herself a hundred kinds of fool for trying to pretend a “real marriage.” This marriage was no more real than her dreams of Benjamin had been.

“Molly?” he finally asked in a voice that sounded low and sad. “What color are my eyes?”

Tears flooded her view as she tried to see him through the shadows. She’d looked at him dozens of times. They’d eaten across from one another. She’d treated his wound only inches from his eyes. She’d seen him stare at her and felt him watching her. But if her life depended on it, she couldn’t have sworn to the color of his eyes.

“What color are my eyes?” he said again.

She couldn’t guess. What if she were wrong?

Wolf stretched across her and turned up the lamp. Warm brown eyes stared down at her with pain no wound to his body could cause.

“Brown,” she whispered and closed her own eyes tight.
Brown!
she screamed inside. Brown, the same color as Benjamin’s.

W
OLF WASN’T SURE
. B
UT HE THOUGHT NEITHER HE
nor Molly slept all night. He fought the urge to comfort her as he lay only inches away. Several times, he thought of reaching out to Molly, pulling her into his arms and just holding her until dawn. But he couldn’t. He knew if he did, he’d make love to her. He’d make her his forever.

He could see the washstand outlined against the window light. His razor and strop rested by the bowl. All he had to do was get out of bed and shave. She wanted Benjamin. She loved Benjamin. He could give her the man she waited for. He could play the role if it made her happy.

Or could he? She didn’t love
him
. It was clear from her inability to answer about the color of his eyes, she didn’t even look at him. How could he make love to her, or hold her, or even give her the part of him that was Benjamin, when she was willing to give herself to a man she didn’t love? Him.