Should she apologize to Caleb for throwing him out of his own bedroom? It was a comment on his character that he hadn’t tossed her out into the snow. After all, he and his brothers had every right to be angry at what Mrs. Fraser had done to them.
Every time she thought of the humiliation she and the other women had suffered when they’d realized the four brothers had no idea they were to be married, she got mad all over again. The other women hadn’t been too free with the reasons they had for agreeing to marry strangers, so she assumed each one of them had a story similar to hers.
She might be reluctant to have her new husband in her bed, but she was a good cook. The years she’d spent taking care of herself and her sister had honed household skills with which she planned to win over her husband. Hopefully that would make up for her reluctance to allow him his marital rights.
After checking the scant pantry, she decided to fix flapjacks and bacon. If she was going to run his home, she would need to get into town as soon as the pass cleared and stock up on necessaries.
Starting with coffee was always a good idea. In her experience most men preferred a strong cup of coffee first thing in the morning. She ladled out the coffee beans into the pot and added sufficient water. She blew on the embers in the stove from banking the night before and added coal to get the stove ready to cook.
“Good morning.” Caleb’s voice behind her made her jump.
“Goodness. You startled me.” She pressed her hand to her chest.
The man looked terrible, as if he hadn’t slept a wink all night. Even in his disheveled state, she could still understand his popularity with the ladies. His dark blond hair fell over his forehead, his deep blue eyes mesmerizing her. Tightened lips suggested he was still annoyed at having been relegated to the main room. There would be no point in asking him if he’d slept well, since the evidence was there on his face.
“I’m making breakfast. I didn’t find much in the way of food. But I can whip up some bacon and flapjacks.”
“Most times I eat at the bunkhouse with the men. I’m not much of a cook, and it was just easier that way.” He leaned one broad shoulder against the doorframe, his sleepy, little boy look wreaking havoc with her nerves. She didn’t want to be attracted to this man. She still had to find a way to break the news of her less than pure state before she allowed him any liberties.
“I enjoy cooking, and do it quite well. But if I’m going to fix our meals here, I will need to do an inventory of your supplies and prepare a list of what I need.”
“Now that it’s stopped snowing, the pass should be opened up in a few days. I can take you into town and introduce you to Patience Farmer. She and her husband, Nick own the mercantile. I have an account with them. You can just add to my bill, and I pay at the end of each month.”
Lillian nodded and turned back to her work.
“I’ll get washed up and dressed while you do that.” He headed to the bedroom and she heaved a sigh of relief. At least they weren’t squabbling like a couple of urchins this morning.
If only he had been the one who’d sent for her. She could imagine a nice life with Caleb. He had a comfortable house that with a little bit of money and effort could be quite cozy.
His handsome face and strong rancher’s body made her toes curl with the way he looked at her every once in a while. Most likely how he looked at all women, she reminded herself. He was a ladies man, and it would behoove her to remember that. She needed to stay far away from him until she resolved the dilemma of how to tell him about her missing virginity.
She set the table with mix-matched dishes and cups. By the time he joined her in the kitchen, she had a large stack of flapjacks, a plate of crisp bacon, molasses, and butter on the table. She poured two cups of coffee and set the pot back on the stove.
After saying the blessing, which, thankfully, Caleb hadn’t scoffed at, they dug into the food.
Lillian swallowed a mouthful of flapjacks. “Do you often talk in your sleep?”
“Nah. I never talk in my sleep.”
She stopped the movement of her hand as it headed toward her mouth with a bit of bacon. “You told me last night you were talking in your sleep.”
A slight flush rose to his cheeks. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I do once in a while. Not too often, though.” After that pronouncement, he continued to shovel food into his mouth, not meeting her eyes.
“You look like hell, big brother.” Ethan greeted Caleb as he walked the horse through the doors of the main stable. “Appears to be you had a big night.” He grinned and punched Caleb on the arm.
“Cut it out,” Caleb snarled.
“You would think after the night you had, you’d be in a better mood,” Ethan groused.
“Caleb!” Gideon strode up to him. “A word, please.” He turned on his heel and stormed to the end of the stable. What the hell was wrong with the preacher this morning? It seemed like no one was having a good morning.
“What?” Caleb said, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans.
“I saw you.”
“Saw me what?”
Gideon leaned forward, right in Caleb’s face. “I saw you carry Desiree into Pete’s house in the early hours this morning.”
Damn. Leave it to the preacher to see him. What the hell was he doing up himself in the middle of the night? Praying?
He probably should defend himself, but it galled him to explain to his younger brother that nothing went on between him and Desiree. Up until a few days ago, his life had been his own. Now he’d been hog-tied to a woman who threw him out of his own bedroom on his wedding night, no less. His holier than thou brother thought it his place to spy on him, and dammit, he was tired to the bone. His very satisfying, perfect, life had collapsed.
“I can’t believe you would disrespect your wife like that by dallying with a tavern girl right under your roof.” Gideon shook his head. “I really thought better of you, Caleb.”
Caleb rocked back on his heels. “Pull your goddamn head out of the clouds and get off your knees, Gideon. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then explain it to me. I know what I saw.”
“I don’t care what you saw. Keep your nose out of my business. I don’t answer to you.” He turned to walk away.
“You will never have a good marriage if you start off this way, Caleb.” He reached out and clasped his arm to stop him. “I just want all of us to be happy, and I can guarantee that’s no way to begin a marriage.”
Caleb shook off his brother’s arm. “I don’t need lectures from you. Just keep your advice and observations to yourself. Take care of your own wife.”
By mid-afternoon, when they’d finished the chores they were able to do with the snow still piled up, Caleb returned to his house. He walked through the front door an immediately fell over a table, landing on his knees. “What the hell?”
“Stop cussing.” His wife stood in the middle of the room, an apron over her dress, a rag of some sort tied around her head, and a dripping wet cloth in her hand. If he hadn’t recognized the woman who’d turned his life upside down, he would have sworn he was in someone else’s house.
All the furniture was in different spots. A pile of junk sat in the middle of the floor. “What are you doing, woman?”
“This place was a pigpen. I’ll bet your barn is cleaner than this house was.” She gestured to the pile. “Most of that stuff can be thrown away.”
“Thrown away?” He moved to the pile and withdrew a large horseshoe. “This is my lucky horseshoe. I’m not throwing that away.” He leaned down and picked up another item. “And this. This is the softest shirt I own.”
She sniffed. “There are holes in each elbow, wide enough that can’t be patched, and there are two buttons missing. It’s a rag.”
“Would you look at this?” He held up a pair of well-worn boots. “These are my favorite fishing boots. I always catch a shitload of fish—“
“Stop cussing—“
“—when I wear these.”
They glared at each other, Lillian with a determined look on her face, Caleb juggling his treasures in his arms. Lord, the woman would try the patience of a saint. “You have no authority to re-arrange my house or decide what will be thrown away.” He looked around the main room. “Who gave you permission to move my furniture around?”
She raised her chin. “Excuse me, Mr. Fraser, but I was of the opinion that once a man married, the house became his wife’s home as well.”
“You are also of the opinion that a healthy woman with two strong legs needed to be carried over the doorstep of that house because that’s just the way it is.” He dropped the items in his arms on a chair and returned to the pile, removing things he had no intention of parting with.
“I will not live in a dirty house.”
“Then clean the house, but don’t throw any of my belongings away. I love every single thing in this house.” Realizing what he’d just said, he flushed, hoping Lillian didn’t assume he meant he loved her. Hell, he could barely tolerate her.
“Even this?” She held up a dead mouse by its tail. “And what warm memory does this thing bring back?”
Later that night, when the kitchen had been cleaned up, and she and Caleb had mumbled their good nights before she handed him a pillow and blanket, Lillian rolled over in the large bed in the middle of the bedroom. Resting on her back, she crossed her arms over her middle and studied the crack in the ceiling. This marriage had certainly gotten off to a bad start. She really had to learn to control her tongue. No man liked a woman who behaved like a shrew.
She felt so darn anxious about her future with Caleb making it quite clear from the get-go that he hadn’t sent for her, didn’t want her, and would love to see her pack up and leave. She didn’t want to hand him a good reason to do just that.
If she had to leave here, she had no idea where she would go, or what she would do. Her only sister, Patty, lived in a tiny house in Arizona with her husband, her husband’s mother, and four children. The walls of their small abode burst with all the people and the children’s pets.
Lillian had spent the last of her meager savings and the sale of her little house on a new coat, a few new dresses, boots, warm clothing, and underthings, so she wouldn’t arrive on her new husband’s doorstep looking like a ragamuffin. At this rate, with all their bickering, she would never be able to tell him his stiff-necked virginal wife wasn’t a virgin. Her plan had been to have him, if not loving her, at least feeling some sort of affection so he wouldn’t send her back to Illinois.
Dear God, what would she do if she had to return to North Grove, beg for her job back, and face the new Mr. and Mrs. Fred Dillon every day? With heavy thoughts racing through her mind, it was some time before sleep claimed her.
The next morning she awoke determined to push her anxiety aside and behave in her normal friendly manner. Mama had often said it was easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar. The saying hadn’t made sense to her, since she never could figure out why anyone would want to catch flies in the first place.
Once washed up and dressed, she fixed her hair in a becoming, but practical, style and entered the kitchen with a big smile. “Good morning. . .” She stopped and looked around, then returned to the main room. Caleb wasn’t in either place.
She knew wherever he was, he would be looking for breakfast, so she got busy. Perhaps if she showed off her homemaking skills it would make up for her lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom.
Not likely.
By the time she heard him stomping his feet at the front door before entering, she had coffee made, biscuits ready to come out of the oven, and a bowl of eggs all scrambled and ready to cook. The table was set, and she’d lit a fire in the main room fireplace. She glanced around. Any man would be pleased to come home to a cozy home with wonderful smells in the air. Her spirits rose as her campaign to win Caleb over had begun.
Her heart did a little thump as he walked through the door. Once again she was reminded of how very good looking her husband was. The flush on his face from the cold enhanced the blue of his eyes. Golden locks fell over his forehead when he removed his hat and tossed it on the chair. Her first instinct to remind him to hang it up, but she stopped herself with a reminder to be sweet and wifely.
“I have breakfast all ready.” She waved in the direction of the table.
He cast a glance that she could only interpret as suspicious. Honestly, did the man think she was going to poison him? She swallowed the anger that rose, and smiled sweetly. “If you sit down, I’ll scramble the eggs.”
“I’ll just go wash up.” He headed to the bedroom while she finished the eggs and placed everything on the table. Pleased with the presentation, she added the pan of biscuits and sat at the same time as Caleb took his seat.
He glanced at the table, and looked around her at the stove. “Where’s the meat?”
“Excuse me?”
“The meat. Where’s the meat?”
“Um, I only made the biscuits and eggs.”
“No meat?”
She huffed. Had he lost his hearing? “No. No meat.”
“Darlin’ a man has to have enough food to do his chores. Eggs and biscuits is a woman’s meal.”
“What do you usually eat for breakfast?”
He shrugged. “Steak, ham, potatoes, eggs, biscuits, flapjacks.”
“All of that?” Her eyes grew wide.
“Yes, ma’am. Especially in cold weather like this. The boys and I are riding fences today. That last snow storm blew down a few. We have to fix those we can, and make a note of those we need extra supplies to fix.” He waved at the table. “This won’t hold me for more than an hour.”
Her shoulders slumped. So much for getting off to a good start. Suddenly, the whole thing overwhelmed her. She placed her hands in her lap and a tear slid down her cheek. She swiped it, but it was replaced by another, and then another.
Lillian wept for the humiliation she’d suffered at the hands of Fred Dillon, the decision to give up her job to leave the town she was born and raised in to marry a stranger, then discovering the stranger hadn’t wanted her, still didn’t want her. Her anger at what his mother had done to her and the other girls still rankled. Mrs. Fraser had taken it upon herself to interfere in her sons’ lives in a way that managed to disrupt eight lives. Ten if you counted Jamie’s two kids.
Add to her misery her misplaced virginity she still needed to explain, and now her failure as a cook. The one thing she thought she did well. She cleared her throat thick with emotion. “Excuse me.”
She pushed her chair back and hurried to the bedroom. She crawled onto the bed she’d just made and pulled the covers up over her head. Her life was a disaster.
“Lillian?” Caleb’s voice sounded very close. The bed springs creaking confirmed he was a hairsbreadth away from her. Slowly, the cover came off her head, then slid down her body. She rolled away from him, her shoulders shaking as she was wracked with tears.
“It’s all right, Lillian. You have to learn about ranches, that’s all.” He touched her shoulder gently. She cried harder and curled into a ball, her fist in her mouth.
“All right. That’s enough.” He scooped her up and carried her to the main room where he sat in a chair and settled her on his lap. He rubbed circles on her back as she cried against his chest for all the losses in her old life and the insecurity of this new one.
Slowly, she became aware of Caleb’s warmth, of the scent that rose from him. Horses, leather, and something spicy. Her head was tucked against his neck as he continued to rub her back. She also realized he was murmuring something. Soothing words that she couldn’t understand, but made her feel better.
He shifted her body, withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket, and handed it to her. Taking it from him, she wiped her cheeks and blew her nose. Shudders continue to rack her body, but slowly they subsided and she relaxed.
“Feel better now?” Caleb placed his hand under her chin and raised her head. All she could think of was how awful she must look with swollen eyes and a red nose.
“Yes.”
“Good. I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know. I think, unfortunately, you just happened to be handy when I decided to fall apart.” She sat up and cleared her throat. “I’m usually a very strong person. But there have been a lot of changes lately and I guess I hadn’t adjusted as well as I thought.”
He regarded her for a minute and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “What made you apply to be a mail order bride?”
She shrugged. “I read the request your mama placed with the bride agency and it sounded like a good opportunity to start a new life.”
“Yes, Mama’s ad.” His tone and expression reminded her he had not sent for a bride and probably still resented what his mother had done. “What was wrong with the life you had?”
Partial truth would work just fine. “As much as I loved my job as the town librarian, I wanted my own home, a husband and a family.” She felt heat rise to her face at that last admission. It would be better to skip the topic of family since she was fully aware what they needed to do together for that to happen. As well as the explanation he would be demanding once he discovered her condition. “And a ranch in Colorado sounded like a nice place to have all that.”
He cast his eyes from her face to her breasts, a slight smile gracing his lips. “There’s just one thing about your explanation that I have a hard time accepting.”
Oh, Lord. Did he somehow learn of her humiliation? Or worse yet, did he suspect she’d been stupid enough to throw away her virginity on a man who had made false promises, leaving her to explain to a future husband?
Before she could question him, he continued, “You are a beautiful woman, Lillian. I find it hard to believe you didn’t receive numerous marriage proposals.”
She hesitated a moment. “Well, actually, there was one man I was sort of engaged to, but that didn’t work out.”
There, that wasn’t exactly a lie, now, was it?