Читать книгу The Rancher’s Inconvenient Bride - Carol Arens - Страница 13
Оглавление“Mighty glad the wind has stopped.”
Walking down the boardwalk toward Hamilton London’s Steak House and looking forward to a late lunch, William patted Agatha’s hand where it nestled in the crook of his arm.
He liked the way it fit. While not even twelve hours into marriage, he thought his union with Agatha might be a success, for all that it was unanticipated.
Agatha sure did look fetching in the green gown he’d purchased in the wee hours of the morning. With her red hair and green eyes—there was no denying that Mrs. William English was a beautiful woman.
Funny how he’d never noticed that. In his eyes she had always been Foster Magee’s sickly girl.
For all her loveliness, she did seem nervous.
And why wouldn’t she be? He was nervous and he was accustomed to speaking with people. He would have to take care not to overtax her with social events. Although there would be some she would need to attend.
Or perhaps her agitation had nothing to do with facing society’s challenges.
It could be that her nervousness had to do with him.
No doubt she was uneasy about so suddenly becoming a wife. He could hardly blame her for that.
Last night, he’d tried to assure her that she had nothing to fear from him, that he would never force his husbandly attentions upon her, but that conversation had only left her looking even more distressed.
It hadn’t felt right bringing up such an intimate topic with an innocent—but it had been necessary. In most cases, sexual intimacy was at the heart of a marriage.
But not this marriage.
Had he married Ivy or Aimee, even, things would be different. They were healthy women and his husbandly attentions would not put them at such a great risk.
His wife was not like them—although it seemed as though she thought she might be.
Unfortunately for him, each hour he spent with his bride tempted him to wonder what it would be like to share the marriage bed with her.
Fantasizing was as far as he would take it, though, because the line between fantasy and nightmare could be a narrow one.
If he thought otherwise all he had to do was remember being a child, recall the joy he anticipated over the birth of his baby sister, then the crushing sorrow of holding her lifeless newborn body.
Giving birth was hard enough on a strong woman. Putting Agatha in that situation was out of the question.
He grunted under his breath, forcing his thoughts in another direction—toward lunch because he was ravenous.
Near the door of the restaurant, Agatha stopped suddenly. She glanced behind, squeezing his arm.
“What is it, honey?”
“Nothing—just a shadow.” She smiled up at him a bit too brightly. “And a chill.”
A chill on a July afternoon! “Are you well?”
“Of course. Although, I wish people were not staring at us as if we’d just tumbled from the moon.”
“They’ll get used to it,” he said, leading her to his favorite table in a bay window overlooking the street. “All they need is a little time.”
“Like us, I suppose.”
He pulled out her chair. After she was seated he took the one across from her.
“I hope it wasn’t fear of me that gave you a chill, Agatha. You have no need to fear me.”
She removed her gloves slowly, one then the other while she held his gaze. “It wasn’t you.”
Probably not. A woman who was uneasy in his presence would not look at him so steadfastly.
“There was a shadow. It shifted suddenly and reminded me of my nurse, Hilda Brunne.”
Shadow was a good way of describing Brunne. He’d only seen her a couple of times and only once close up, but he knew her to be a dark soul.
“I imagine, given time I won’t see her lurking in dim places.”
“It’s a shame they never found her body. It might be easier for you if they had.”
“I suppose when I come to the point that I find her body inside of me, lay her to rest in my soul, I guess I mean, then it will be all right.”
“Did you get any sleep this morning?”
“Strangely, yes. I slept quite well.” For some reason that made her blush. “How did you sleep?”
His wife looked pretty with a pink tint in her cheeks. It made her eyes look greener, her hair a more vibrant red.
“Not well, I’ll confess. There was a something gnawing at me and I couldn’t let it go.”
“Life has dealt us a change. It’s no wonder you were restless.”
“It’s not that. I think we’ll make a go of it.” He reached across the table, traced the lines of her palm, then squeezed her hand in reassurance. Of course he wasn’t sure which of them he was reassuring. “What were you doing working for the circus, Agatha? Last time I saw you, you could barely walk. Does your sister know where you are? I can scarce believe she allowed you to leave home alone.”
“You need not have lost sleep over that, William. First of all, even though I was dressed the part, I am not a coochie girl or anything of the sort. I worked in the chuck wagon helping to prepare meals. Second, as you see, I can walk. And as for Ivy allowing me? She is my sister, not my keeper.” She folded her hands in front of her, leaned forward. “I’ll admit, she wasn’t happy about my choice. But I didn’t come alone. Laura Lee, one of the kitchen girls at the Lucky Clover, came with me.”
“But the circus?” He shook his head. “Why not do something safe in Cheyenne?”
