Chapter 12

12

J osiah looked across the drawing room at his bride, who stood beside the fireplace pretending to warm her hands in a very warm room, rather than get too close to him. It was how every evening started until he waved her closer.

Their time together over the past few weeks had confirmed how interesting and intelligent she was. He made himself be patient, but the discipline was tougher than he imagined. The more time he spent with her, the deeper he fell. When she let herself relax, she would banter and challenge his opinions, depending on the subject. They were forming an actual friendship.

Now, his heart squeezed at just the sight of her as she fiddled with her hair. Her long thick braid hung down her back. She stuffed the pins in her mouth, then coiled it into another tight bun and started working the pins back into place.

He patted the seat beside him. "Come here."

She nodded her head in his direction. "I'll be right there, just have to fix this mess."

"Come." He waved her closer. "I'll help you."

Her brows lifted as she shoved in the remaining pins. "What would you know about hair?" At last, she made her way to him and sat, all prim and proper.

He put his hands on her shoulders and twisted her body away from him, ignoring the way she tensed under his touch. "I know how to make your hair look beautiful and be much more comfortable." He pulled a pin from her bun. Her hands flew to her head, but he gently lowered them to her lap.

With tender care, he removed every pin. Her shoulders lifted and tightened, but she didn't flee. For his part, having the chance to actually touch her felt like heaven. He untwisted her braid until her glorious head of hair fell long and free down her back. "Doesn't that feel better?"

The catch of her breath didn't escape him.

Such beautiful hair. Why did she hide it in that tight bun? The satin silkiness feathered through his fingers as he lifted the weight of the long strands. If only the tension in her body could be unwound as easily as the unplaiting of her hair.

He raised his hands to her temples and slowly massaged. Little by little, her shoulders lowered as she sank into the settee beside him. Her straight back curved, and, when he pulled her back against him, she didn't pull away.

His chest ached at the feel of her in his arms, leaning against him. How wonderful this was. But, oh, the agony. He lowered his face into her hair, and took a deep breath. The scent of rose water wafted up. It took all he had not to turn her luscious lips toward him.

"I was reading the paper this week and was shocked at the sharp lines drawn between the Southern Paternalism and Northern Capitalism. Do you think we'll ever get along?" Her voice sounded so unmoved.

He stilled his hands. She couldn't possibly be thinking politics when he was fighting to control the urge to turn her in his arms and give in to temptation. Did she feel nothing? He pulled away and swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment.

She turned to him, brows raised as she waited for his answer.

"I'll have to ponder that one." Later. Much later, when he could actually think.

"You know what I think?"

"Hmm?" He could barely breathe. A deep loneliness pressed in, sucking the air from the room. Was he destined to be considered no more than a nice man with whom she enjoyed conversation? That would mean no love, no intimacy, no children. The future suddenly looked bleak.

"I think both sides have their strengths and weaknesses, but unless we can admit the weaknesses, we'll never come together."

"You're most likely right." He stood and moved to stand in front of the fire. "I'm going to retire now. Don't forget we're heading into town tomorrow bright and early."

"But I don't need?—"

He faced her. "You do need clothing." He spoke with more clip in his voice than he'd intended. "And what about the riding habit I promised you? Surely you won't deny me even this small pleasure." He struggled to keep his tone level, thinking of all the other pleasures he was denied.

"All right."

"Very well. Be ready by nine." He had to get out of there before he said something he would regret. "Good night."

He took the steps two at a time. With the decided click of his bedroom door just short of a slam, he ripped his hands through his hair. He would scream, except she would hear him. He fumbled with the buttons and tore his shirt from his shoulders, flinging it on the bed. With his head bent over the wash bowl he doused his upper body to cool the flame of anger…and a whole lot more.

Katie had disappointed him last evening. Her stomach still flip-flopped at the thought of his closeness. Thankfully, starting that conversation about politics had put an end to where things had been headed. Try as she might, she was not ready.

But she could do everything within her power to give him a nice day.

She climbed into the carriage Abe had pulled up to the front steps and offered Josiah a big smile. He gave her a watered-down version, and silence followed. His usual upbeat banter was absent.

After a while, she glanced his way. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He patted her knee, then looked out his window.

She wasn't imagining it. He was upset.

Heads turned as they drove through Lacey Spring, and most everyone waved. Katie peeked out the window. "Is this how it always is when you come into town?"

"They're curious. Not much happens in this sleepy town, so if they want to stare and tip their hats, I'm happy to oblige in a friendly manner. Today, I bet they're trying to catch a glimpse of my beautiful wife."

It was his first attempt at lightheartedness, and she wanted to encourage the old Josiah back. "Or maybe it's the ladies all in a twitter over the handsome Mr. Richardson."

"You think I'm handsome?" His brows rose.

"One cannot deny the obvious."

He grinned. "Things are looking up."

The tension in her shoulders eased at his teasing.

Soon, a rap from above signified they had arrived.

Josiah swung out and reached for her hand as she stepped down.

"Mr. Richardson," a man called.

Josiah lifted his head and waved.

The rugged man sauntered across the street. When he reached them, he lifted his cowboy hat to Katherine and nodded. "Ma'am."

"Hank, meet my wife, Katherine."

She tilted her head in a respectable nod, careful not to invite more.

"Katherine, this is Hank, one of the best horse handlers in the country."

The man's sun-weathered face creased into a wide smile. "Thanks for the praise. I wanted to be sure you don't forget me when Colby gets back with those horses."

"You're at the top of my list."

"Sure glad to hear. Work has been hard to rustle up. Are you still fixin' to hire both black and white?"

Josiah nodded. "The best man for the job is my policy."

"I'd be happy to work with whomever, but talk about town is that if you intend to hire them there black fellows"—his eyes darted up to Abe—"and take jobs from the whites, there will be trouble."

Katie's heart picked up speed. Trouble?

"You know me." Josiah clapped Hank on the shoulder. "Never had much time for idle threats. You know how men talk with one too many a drink in their belly. But thanks for the warning. I'll be in touch the minute Colby is home."

Hank lifted his hat one more time in her direction and took off across the street.

She turned to him. "Trouble? What does he mean by that?"

"There's nothing to worry about. These cowboys are all big talk, no action." He whisked her into the nearby shop before she could ask any more questions.

She stopped just inside the door and gazed about the room, taking in the awe-inspiring selections. "I can't believe it. Look at all these choices." Bolts of fabric stacked in all colors and weaves cluttered every nook and cranny. Spools of thread, needles, measuring tapes, and scissors lay scattered on a large table. A woman appeared from the back and greeted them with a smile.

"Josiah, my dear." The older woman moved toward him with grace and class. She placed a kiss on each of his cheeks and did the same to Katie. "'Tis the French in me. I can't get used to greeting people any other way. I'm Clarisse, and you must be Katherine." She stepped back and surveyed Katie as if she were a rare animal in a cage. She moved all around. "My, Josiah, this bride of yours will be a delight to dress. Look at that tiny waist, and the fine form to fill out a bodice. And that hair and those eyes. Magnifique ."

Katie fought to keep from squirming under the woman's scrutiny.

"Stop with the compliments, Clarisse," Josiah said. "She's a shy one."

"My dear girl," Clarisse said to Katie, "you will have to outgrow that. Your kind of loveliness was created to be shared with the world." She ran a hand down Katie's cheek. "Look at these high cheekbones. You've been graced with regal beauty." She grabbed Katie's hand and pulled. "Come. We shall have fun." With the other hand, she waved Josiah off. "Out you go, and don't come back anytime soon."

Panic welled in Katie's throat at the thought of Josiah leaving her alone with this stranger.

Maybe he saw the look in her eyes, for he reached out. "I want her to have?—"

"Don't you worry yourself with details. I'll start fresh. Undergarments, dinner gowns, petticoats, crinoline, hats, gloves, shoes?—"

He stood there looking unsure. "Don't forget everyday clothes—skirts, blouses, shawls, and a riding habit and boots."

Riding habit, yes. She could do this for Josiah.

Clarisse laughed and shooed him away. "Katherine has a tongue in her head. We'll not forget a thing. Run along now."

That night in the drawing room, Katie sat on the settee near Josiah as they enjoyed their usual evening conversation. But, when he stood and turned to leave for bed, the action sparked a reminder in her. "Wait." She stood and moved toward him, then placed her hand on his arm.

His eyes widened at her initiation of touch and flicked to her hand. "Yes."

"I need…"

A flicker of hope filled his gaze.

She'd better hurry and finish before he got the wrong idea. "I would like some work to do during the day."

His eyes went dull and flat. He stepped away, pulling out of her reach. Without speaking, he turned and headed for the stairs. His response was answer enough.

"What?" She hurried behind him as he climbed the steps. "What's wrong with me helping out around here? And don't tell me again that I need to get accustomed to my surroundings."

He whirled around at the top. "You're not some common maid to be scrubbing and cleaning about."

Frustration welled inside her. "Then teach me the books, like you said you would."

"Until the horses come in and the buying and selling begins, there is little to do."

"Surely there are household expenses that would require some tracking. You have the maids, Annie and Ruby, helping around here, plus Delilah and Abe, not to mention my family. Surely there are expenses and I could learn how to do entries and?—"

"No."

"Why not? I'm going stark raving mad with all this sitting around. Delilah is insistent I do nothing until you give the go ahead."

"This is not a conversation for the whole household to hear." He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his room, slamming the door behind them. Dropping her hand, he paced the floor before coming to stop in front of her.

"Soon, Kat. We have the complexities in our relationship to concentrate on first, and I don't want you so exhausted from daily chores that you?—"

"So that's what this is about? You want me good and rested to fulfill my wifely duty—an area in which you know I have failed miserably." Now her frustration melded with fear. She would have to face the inevitable. But could she?

"Is that so wrong?" His voice sounded curt, but then he softened, his eyes gentling. "A man caring enough to not overwhelm his new bride, or a man desiring his wife?—"

"Of course, it's not wrong." She fought the sting of tears. "I…just can't seem to get over…to get beyond…" Her body shuddered at the memory. "The thought of a man touching me…" Unwanted tears filled her eyes and toppled down her face.

"Can you talk about it? Does this have to do with that day at the creek or what happened in the saloon?" He reached out a hand, but then pulled back and dropped it to his side.

She motioned toward him. "See, I've made you afraid to even touch the woman who is supposed to be your wife. Don't you see? I never should have married you, or anyone, in this state."

"We can work through this, if you'll just talk to me, tell me what happened. I'm a patient man." His voice pleaded for her to believe him.

Poor man. He deserved better than this. "You have been patient. You've given my family everything you promised and I…I sit around here like a lady of leisure with no purpose whatsoever. I haven't even upheld my end of the bargain."

"I don't care about a bargain. I care about you." His voice was almost a whisper.

"That makes it even worse." She flung her hands in the air. "You're not the problem. It's me."

She ran for the door between the rooms and slammed it behind her. Ripping at her clothes, she stripped herself naked and stared into the mirror. I should just walk into his bedroom right now and do whatever I'm supposed to do. She marched to the door between the rooms and stopped. Who was she kidding?

She turned toward the bureau, slipped into her nightwear, and took refuge on the bed. Her pillow muffled the wrenching sobs.

Where was this God of Daniel who gave courage? Maybe He wouldn't show up for a coward like her.