Chapter 8

Coffee cup in hand, Honor stared at the big Bible on the bookshelf. She touched the spine, drew her hand back, chewed her bottom lip. Ridiculous. She was a married woman, Ash was her husband. Why couldn’t she bring herself to write their names below Mama’s and Papa’s on the marriage record page of the Bible? She wheeled away from the shelf and paced to the door.

She’d planned to work on the far side of the property that day, but with Ash recovering from the fight and his family’s impending return, she hadn’t dared wander too far afield. Instead, she’d tidied the house after Manuel routed the snakes the previous evening. Then she’d returned to her room and changed into a dress to entertain her new in-laws, much as she loathed the idea—of entertaining and wearing a corset and frilly petticoats.

She had to admit Ash’s compliments the previous afternoon had been nice, though they’d set her head to spinning. She’d wanted to bolt out of the bunkhouse just to get some air. Her cheeks warmed at the memory.

The boys she’d grown up with had never treated her like she possessed any girlish qualities. It didn’t help that she felt more at home in a saddle than skipping rope or picking wildflowers. It was far more natural to her to run and chase with Ash, which was precisely why she’d started the mud fight.

But there was something pleasant about the way his face lit up when he noticed her skirt and blouse yesterday. Perhaps wearing dresses and fixing her hair was worth his kind words.

“Good morning, Mrs. Rutherford.”

She started and stepped back into the house.

“Sorry I slept so late.” Ash descended the stairs as if it hurt to move. A reddish-purple bruise marked his jaw, left eye nearly swollen shut. The cut on his cheekbone was red and angry.

“Morning.” She smiled. “You look—”

“Terrible.” He nodded.

“I was going to say sore.”

“That, too.” Focusing on her coffee, he approached, grasped the cup still in her hand, and inhaled the aroma. “That smells good.” He took a sip, a playful glint in his good eye.

A thrill raced through her as he pulled her close. She shifted the coffee cup to her other hand.

Ash gingerly pecked her on the cheek. “You look fetching this morning.”

Warmth spiraled through her. Definitely something pleasurable about his notice.

She smoothed her tan and brown dress and shot him a shy smile. “I thought I should try to make a better impression on your family. Sorry I don’t have anything more fashionable.” As if she would know how to wear the fancy dresses Ash’s mother and sisters had worn.

He cupped her cheek and smiled. “Just be yourself. That’s all that matters.”

“I did that, remember? It didn’t go over real well.” She bared her teeth at him as she had to his father.

Ash laughed but grimaced and worked his jaw from side to side. “That’s not a moment he’ll soon forget.”

“I’m sorry. The way he was staring rattled me.”

“No, I’m sorry. He’s an exacting and difficult man. I wish I could tell you he might act more respectfully today, but I wouldn’t count on that.” Ash pulled away and turned toward the kitchen. “His whole purpose in coming is to force me to return home.”

Return? Her grip on the cup loosened, and it hit the floor with a clatter. “Oh.”

Limbs trembling, she darted around the spill and past Ash into the kitchen. He couldn’t return. He was her husband. She grabbed several towels and turned, gasping when he stood just feet from her.

“What’s the matter?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Just clumsy.” She shot past him, barely making eye contact as she rushed back to the mess, shook the folds from a towel, and tossed it over the spill.

He wouldn’t actually leave … would he?

Lord, I haven’t had a lot to say lately. I reckon You’re angry at the way I got married … and for playing hooky from church these last weeks. Maybe I have no right to ask, but please—

“Let me help you.” Ash braced one hand carefully against her shoulder and acted as if he would kneel.

“It’s fine. I don’t need any help.” She shook out another towel. The sound of an approaching carriage broke the stillness, and she waved toward the yard. “Go welcome your family. I’ll be along.”

Ash looked unsure but finally stepped outside. He pulled the door closed, though not before the carriage rattled within view of the door.

A knot clogged her throat, and she gulped air around it. God, please, don’t let him go back with his family. Ash and I are married. And besides that, I think I’m falling in love with him.

Her muscles went weak at the realization. She was falling in love … and his family was here to snatch him back to Philadelphia.

Without her.

Greetings, startled comments about his bruises, and questions about the snakes carried in from outside. Biting her lip, Honor sopped up the spill and listened until the door hinges squeaked softly. With a start, she looked up in time to see the older of the two girls slip inside. The young woman knelt and reached to help.

“Oh, please don’t. I’d hate for you to dirty yourself.”

The girl grinned and pushed the sopping towel toward the center of the puddle. “This is just the sort of thing I would do. Spill something just as company arrives.” She met Honor’s gaze and smiled. “I’m Eliza.”

“I’m Honor.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Eliza’s smile widened. “Welcome to our family.”

Mute, Honor quirked an unsteady grin Eliza’s way. Their gazes held, a friendly understanding passing between them. Honor’s stomach eased just a little. There was at least one friend among Ash’s family.

But did that really matter, if Ash left?

“May I hug you? You look like one big bruise.” Lucy’s face twisted into a grim mask, yet her big eyes glinted with hope.

“I am one big bruise, but if you’re gentle …” Ash opened his arms, and his baby sister slipped into them.

“I’ve missed you, Ash.”

Her soft words pricked his heart. He pulled her a little tighter. “Missed you too, Luce.”

“Then come home.” Father’s voice was firm, his expression dour.

“Ashton, please.” Mother laid a hand on Father’s arm. “You promised we wouldn’t do this, that we would see the type of life Ash has made for hims—”

“What I see is my only son making very unwise choices.” Father shrugged off Mother’s hand. “I paid for a Harvard education so you would learn to fight with your mouth, not your fists, and you’ve thrown it away. From what I saw yesterday, you were no better than an unsophisticated street tough in a schoolyard brawl. And you couldn’t even defend yourself.”

Despite the pain in his jaw, Ash ground his teeth.

“I’ve given you the prestigious life of a gentleman, and you’ve thrown it away in exchange for backbreaking labor … or whatever it is one does on this God-forsaken piece of dirt.”

The dull ache in Ash’s skull grew to a steady pounding beat. Lucy tensed in his arms, and Ash released her, pulled her around behind him.

“I wouldn’t expect you to know this, Father, but Rancho Regalo de Esperanza is a fifty-five-hundred-acre cattle ranch, one of the largest in the county. That carries a fair amount of prestige in these parts.”

“Hardly the notoriety I’ve tried to afford you.”

“You’re right. It’s different, but not any less respectable, and I can only hope that Lucy and Eliza will see my example and realize that they can make their own choices.”

Mother looked around the porch and back to the carriage. “Where is Eliza?”

Ash pivoted, searching. Not finding her, he pushed the front door open. Eliza and Honor both looked up from the coffee spill, a smile on his sister’s lips.

Eliza always had been the gracious one.

“Get up from there.” Father stormed to his daughter’s side and dragged her up by her arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was helping Honor clean a—”

“You’re not some common chambermaid. Let her handle it.”

Honor flinched as if struck, and her cheeks flushed crimson.

Ash’s jaw loosened, and, stunned, he turned on his father. “Say what you will to me … but you have no right to speak about my wife that way.”

Father’s eyes narrowed. “It seems I just did. She and this life are beneath you. I raised you to be more than some dirty farmer.”

Ash fisted his hands, heat boiling up from his gut. “Get out!”

Father quirked a brow. “You had better be sure this is what you want before you say that to me. You may not like the consequences.”

Familiar fears threaded through Ash at Father’s threat, but he shoved them away. “I’ve spent years considering this moment, Father, knowing it would come. If you are unable or unwilling to respect my wife, my life, and the choices I’ve made, then you need to leave.”

Ashton Junior’s face blanched. “You’ll be sorry.”

Ash looked at Honor, her face stained with tears. “No, as long as I have Honor, I won’t.”

Father went rigid. “Gwendolyn. Girls. Get in the carriage.”

Mother’s face went deathly white, and her eyes widened. “Ashton, please, don’t do this. He’s our son.”

“I’ve done nothing. He’s done it all. Let’s go.”

One by one, Mother and his sisters filed out, Eliza stopping to give him a quick hug, tears pooling in her eyes. “I love you, and I really like Honor.” She breathed the words in his ear.

He held her tight. “You and Lucy write me if you can.”

“Now, Eliza,” Father prodded.

She slipped out of Ash’s arms and into the carriage beyond.

Father turned on him once more, poking a finger in Ash’s chest. “You’ve brought this on yourself.”

“If that’s what lets you sleep at night, Father, so be it.”

The elder Rutherford walked out, slamming the door after him.

His knees weak, Ash took a seat in the nearest chair.

“Ash?” Honor knelt next to him. “Are you all right?”

Was he? He was … numb. He’d tried to prepare himself for what he knew would come. Of course Father would react as he had, but knowing it hadn’t prepared him for the ache of watching Eliza and Lucy, even Mother, walk out of his life, possibly for the last time.

Honor carefully slid into his lap. Her touch gentle, she pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.…”