CantrellsBride Page 7

  Nathan started to rise also. “Where are you going?”

  “To the outhouse, if you must know.” She stalked out the door as regal as a queen.

  “Damn. Doesn’t sound like she likes her family much, does it?” he asked Rachel. “Time for you to get into bed, little darlin’.” He carried the small girl up the stairs.

  By the time Laura made her way back to the house, he’d settled Rachel for the night and sat enjoying his evening cigar on the back porch. Laura headed straight for the door, ignoring him once more. Well, he wasn’t going to let her pretend she didn’t see him.

  “Feel better?” he asked casually, stopping her with his words.

  “Yes, I do. I’m sorry I became so angry, none of it was your fault. It’s just… Oh never mind.” She ducked quickly into the house.

  Nathan sat out on the porch, listening to her move around the kitchen, cleaning the remains of their meal.

  What happened to her during the years she lived with her aunt? He had an idea it was something she wanted to forget.

  Whatever it is, she’s got it all bottled up inside. He took another puff of his cigar, pondering the mystery of his wife. Wonder what other secrets she doesn’t want me to know?

  After he finished his cigar, he waited to hear Laura go up the stairs for the night before heading to the barn to do the nightly milking. At the barn door, he turned and looked up at her window.

  He froze.

  Laura stood with her back to the window and pulled her dress over her head, exposing the long creamy flesh of her arms, shoulders and upper back. She reached up and undid the coil of her hair, letting it fall like a dark curtain down to her waist.

  What would it feel like?

  Dammit, he had to stop thinking about things like that or wishing he could touch all that creamy flesh. She’d been explicit in wanting a marriage in name only.

  But he hadn’t agreed.

  He’d wanted a mail-order bride to give him some peace and someone to care for his home and child. His life had become anything but orderly since she arrived.

  * * * * *

  “You’ve disappointed me, Mr. Blackwood.” The white-haired man lit his cigar, puffed on the other end, then blew the stream of smoke into the air above his head. The tip glowed eerily in the shadows of the hotel room.

  Nigel shifted in his seat.

  “Our friends from the South will be receiving a shipment soon. I anticipate them joining us in the summer with some interesting cargo to send to our suppliers.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  The man took another puff on the cigar, the smoke once more circling the air about him. “Do you also understand this woman you can’t seem to find presents a problem?”

  “Yes sir, I do.”

  “The senator’s disposal was the first move in our strategic plan. If this woman comes forward and informs the local police who murdered the senator it could prevent our moving into the second stage, the assassination of the president. You do realize you’ve become a liability too, don’t you?”

  Nigel gulped the bile that rose in his throat. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he removed the telegram from his pocket. “My man has tracked her to St. Louis, sir.”

  “I assume you’ll be on your way out there?”

  “I’ll be on the first train in the morning.”

  “Good. I want this problem taken care of before we move to stage two of our plans.”

  Hearing the dismissal in the man’s voice, Nigel rose from his chair and headed for the door.

  “Mr. Blackwood,” the man called from the shadows.

  Nigel froze with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes sir?”

  “If you don’t find our lady, I suggest you find a hole.”

  “A hole, sir?”

  “A very dark, deep hole to hide in, Mr. Blackwood.”

  Chapter Five

  The knocking on her door woke Laura. In the darkness, she rubbed her eyes and tried to determine her whereabouts. The knocking ceased and the door slowly opened an inch.

  “Laura, wake up.” Nathan’s deep voice startled her back into reality. “I need to eat breakfast after the milking is finished. If you’re going to live on this farm, you’d best learn to rise early.” He shut the door and she listened to his footsteps thud down the stairs.

  She stretched and stuck her tongue out at the closed door. “If you’re going to live on this farm, you’d best learn to rise early,” she mimicked as she slipped from beneath the covers, shivering in the cold, and lit the oil lamp at her bedside. She looked at the time on her pendant watch lying on the bedside table.

  Five o’clock. She groaned and fought the urge to crawl back under the covers. If he could rise early, so could she. She just hoped she managed not to lose her temper today.

  Shivering with the cold, she slipped on an old calico dress, her wool stockings and shoes. With a quick brush through her long brown hair, she braided it then went downstairs.

  “One thing about coming outside to take care of my morning necessities, it’ll sure wake me up,” she muttered on her way to the outhouse, which she’d discovered yesterday.

  Back inside the house, she set about making a breakfast of eggs, biscuits and slices of the bacon Nathan had left on the dry sink for her. When she went to set the table, she noticed Rachel’s plate from the night before was empty except for a few biscuit crumbs.

  Rachel must have come down in the night. Funny she hadn’t heard her. She must have been more tired than she thought.

  Just like she’d done the night before, she took a pail outside and scooped up some snow to melt on the stove for water. Then she searched the cupboard for oats for oatmeal. They’d been pushed to the back and she had to stand on a chair, then lean up on her tiptoes to pull them to her.

  She had her fingers on the canister when the back door opened.

  “What in Sam Hill are you doing, woman?”

  Startled by Nathan’s outburst, she clutched the tin of oats to her with one hand, then held on to the cupboard as the chair threatened to wobble out from under her feet. The next thing she knew, Nathan had her by the waist, steadying her. He stood so close her body brushed against his as she stepped down from the chair. Tilting her head back, she looked into his deep blue eyes, seeing them flash with something darker. His lips parted and he moved his head closer as if he meant to kiss her.

  Suddenly he pulled back and released her as if she were a hot ember from the fire.

  She pressed herself back against the wooden cupboard, sucking in her breath. “You startled me. I was just trying to get something.”

  “Next time you want something, come get me. The last thing I need around here is a useless woman laid up with a broken leg.”

  Anger rolled off him with the bluntness of his words. Stalking across the floor, he retrieved a pail he’d left by the door. He set the pail full of milk by the icebox. “What was so important you’d risk your neck over up there?”

  “Oats for oatmeal.” She held up the canister.

  “That belongs to my friend Micah for when he visits. I don’t care for oatmeal. It always tastes like paste.”

  “I thought Rachel might eat some.”

  He shrugged then removed his coat and gloves. “Never seen her eat it before.” He reached into the icebox for the crockery pitcher containing milk. “Every morning pour out a glass of cold milk for Rachel before you pour the warm milk into the pitcher. In a few hours you can scrape off the cream and put it in the smaller pitcher to save for making butter. You ever make butter before?”

  Shaking her head, she set the oats on the dry sink. “We purchased ours already made.”

  “I usually save the cream until Fridays when Sarah comes out to make butter, which I share with her. Have her show you how to do it when she comes out today.”

  “Do you want to continue sharing the butter with her?” She wasn’t sure she liked this paragon of farm wives named Sarah.

  “You’ll be doing the work. It’
ll be up to you. Sarah isn’t the kind to take charity, but she doesn’t have a cow. She has four children to raise, so she’ll have to buy milk and butter from the mercantile. I usually share the eggs with her too.”

  “I guess she and I will discuss it when she comes to visit.” She set out their food without looking at Nathan. “Does Rachel eat now?”

  Finished washing his hands, he sat at the table. “No. I usually let her sleep until later in the morning. I have work out in the barn to do after breakfast, so if you’ll look in on her and let me know when she’s awake, I’ll bring her down for you.”

  They ate a quiet breakfast. Laura felt his eyes on her as she concentrated on her food. She hadn’t met his gaze once since the meal started.

  The near kiss—and even though she’d never been kissed before she was sure he’d been about to—had her jittery. She didn’t think she could eat a bite if he had the same intense look on his face, or worse if that look had turned to contempt.

  So she carefully kept her eyes on her food and used the time to decide how to go about her day. Cleaning the kitchen first—top to bottom, cupboards, pantry, table and floor—was most important. Her plan was simple. If she stayed busy, she wouldn’t have time to think about Nathan.

  “Where is the well?” She stared into the cup of coffee in her hands. “I’ll need a lot of water for cleaning today.”

  He eyed the glass of water sitting next to her plate. “What have you been using?”

  Her chin rose and she looked him straight in the eye. “I scooped up some snow and melted it on the stove.”

  “Very smart.”

  He smiled and she nearly dropped her coffee cup. If there was a way for him to get more handsome the smile had managed it.

  “There isn’t any well, darlin’. We get water from the creek out behind the barn. The bucket’s on the porch and the creek isn’t frozen over. You shouldn’t have any trouble bringing up what you need. I’ll be out in the barn, if you need me.” He finished off his coffee, put on his coat and gloves. He paused at the door. “Don’t fall into the creek. I don’t have time to fish you out.”

  Nathan closed the door and stepped off the porch, letting the cold winter air cool the heat surging through him. From the moment he walked into the kitchen his emotions had been as up and down as the bucking stallions he’d rode the time he’d tried to help Micah tame the wild ponies he raised up in his mountains.

  He hadn’t been expecting her to be out of bed, even though he’d awakened her before he headed out to milk the cows. Finding her out of bed and teetering on the edge of that chair had not only surprised him but sent his heart racing in near panic. She could’ve fallen and broken her neck—all for some damn oatmeal.

  On instinct he’d grabbed her by the hips, which had been a mistake. The mere contact with the woman sent heat straight to his groin, increasing with each graze of her curves against him. Then she’d looked up at him with those green eyes that had turned the color of old jade, her lips parted in anticipation, and he’d been so tempted to taste her.

  Last night he’d done nothing but think of how she’d feel in his arms, how she’d taste, how all that glorious hair would feel on his skin. He’d woken up more than once as hard as a rock. Then to hold her today, he’d nearly given into the desire.

  If it had been Kirsten, he would have.

  Not because Laura was easier to resist. No, because she hadn’t taken advantage of his weakness. She might’ve been willing to let him take control and ravish her mouth, test her innocence, but she wouldn’t press the issue like Kirsten had—more than once.

  That was the only reason he’d released Laura. He’d needed to gain control over his emotions. He wouldn’t have a second marriage where he thought only with his cock.

  Stomping off to the barn, he made plans of things to do outside today. He’d best stay busy in the barn or who knew what hell he’d cause.

  When the door closed behind him, Laura’s shoulders slumped. The man was as prickly as a bowl of sewing needles.

  He could’ve offered to bring the water in for her, but she had a sneaking suspicion bringing the water up from the creek was a test Nathan planned to see how she handled the work on a farm. If she couldn’t do it by herself, or got frostbite, he’d have the perfect excuse he needed to send her back East. She couldn’t let that happen. No matter what other tests he gave her, she’d master them.

  Finished with her coffee, she carried the dishes to the sink to soak in the hot water she’d heated earlier. She checked on Rachel, who still slept.

  Ready to make the trip out to the creek and get started cleaning the kitchen, she pulled on her heavy sweater and gloves. With a bucket in hand, she trudged through the snow in the cold morning air. The path led from the house down a slippery slope and into the trees where the creek flowed.

  Nathan was right. The current kept the creek from freezing over. Taking off her gloves, she put them in her pocket for safekeeping, bent at the water’s edge and lowered the bucket into the water. Pain seared her fingers as she held the bucket beneath the ice-cold water.

  Slowly she straightened, pulling the heavy bucket from the creek, and set it on the path next to her feet. Her hands hurt so badly. She wiped them on her sweater, rubbed them together and blew on them before donning her gloves again.

  Should’ve just melted more snow. Would’ve been much easier.

  She blew out an exasperated breath. Melting snow and not coming to the creek would mean she’d failed the first challenge Nathan gave her. So, creek water it was.

  Careful not to spill any of her hard-won water, she lifted the bucket up the creek bank and back to the house. Every few steps she stopped to switch hands due to the water’s weight.

  When she rounded the barn, she paused a moment to admire the view of the surrounding trees and mountains. Once again the beauty of Nathan’s farm filled her soul with peace. Off to the east, areas of land had been cleared to the fence for crops, each one separated from the others by small stands of bushes or trees. From the far creek bank the trees were thick. Behind them the mountains rose up as far as she could see to the north and west.

  The cold wind whipped around her and she hurried on to the house. Once she had the bucket on the porch, she opened the door and set it down next to the pail of milk Nathan brought in earlier. Inside, she warmed her hands at the stove and added more firewood. When she turned around, she noticed Nathan had come in and lit a fire in the fireplace on the far side of the room. The space in front of the hearth lay empty.

  “That would be a nice place for some chairs and rugs. This could be a cozy room with the right things in it.”

  Following Nathan’s instructions, she lifted the heavy crock of milk from the icebox. With a spoon she skimmed the thick cream off the top of the cold milk, placing it in the smaller pitcher. When she finished, she poured a cup of milk for Rachel and set it on the table. Once all the milk was in the icebox, she poured water into a pan and set it on the stove to heat for cleaning.

  Before she started, she went to check on Rachel. She found the little girl standing at the window, staring at the barn.

  So as not to startle her, Laura stayed in the doorway. “Hello, Rachel. Remember me from last night? My name is Laura. Would you like to come down for breakfast?”

  Rachel didn’t move.

  “I’ll go get your father to help you come down. Okay?”

  This time Rachel blinked.

  Not bothering to put on her coat or sweater, Laura ran out to the barn. She opened the door and stopped to adjust her eyes to the dim light.

  There were three horses, two pens with several hogs and a large area where numerous cows milled about. The mixture of animal scent and freshly strewn hay filled her nose, almost gagging her.

  What sounded like metal hitting metal came from the rear of the barn. Following the sound, she walked past the stalls for the animals.

  “Nathan?” she called when she still didn’t see him.

  A light
shone beneath a door behind which she heard the metal sound again. When she nudged it open, she found her husband standing next to a table with a blade clamped to it. He was using some sort of heavy stone to sharpen it.

  The movements of his body fascinated her. His tall, sturdy frame bent over the blade. His rolled-up shirtsleeves allowed her to watch his muscles as he worked, steadily pulling the stone across. His black hair gleamed in the lamplight. The sudden desire to see if it felt as silky as she imagined swamped her senses. With his powerful legs spread apart, his body rocked back and forth at his narrow hips from the effort of his work.

  She waited quietly, hoping he’d stop for a minute. Finally he straightened, laid the stone on the table, and rubbed his hands on the sides of his pants.

  “Finished cleaning? Or did you give up already?”

  The contempt in his remark stung. Was that what his first wife always did? Shirk her responsibilities to get his attention? Well, she was made of sterner stuff. She glared at him. “Rachel is awake. I believe she’s waiting for you to come and bring her down to breakfast.”

  “Why didn’t you say something instead of just standing there watching me?” He turned out the lamp and ushered her out through the barn. “Or maybe you like what you see and you’re beginning to change your mind about our marriage arrangement?”

  Laura dug in her heels. “You asked me to come get you when Rachel needed to be brought downstairs. I didn’t interrupt you because I didn’t want to cause you to hurt yourself on that blade you were sharpening.”

  “I apologize. You’re right, I did ask you to come get me. Just remember, the offer still stands.” He grasped her arm gently to pull her out the door.