Lonesome Bride (13 page)

"She is awake,” Lorna announced quietly from the vaulted doorway separating the great room from the hall.

"Is she all right?” Too late, he realized his voice was filled with a concern that seemed far too intimate to be proper.

Lorna looked him up and down with experienced eyes. She had been with the family since he was a mere lad, after all, and there was not much about him she did not know. Or could not guess, anyway.

"I am thinking she will be fine."

Jed's sigh of relief was nearly great enough to ruffle Lorna's hair. “What was wrong with her?"

"Perhaps it is you who should to be telling me what is wrong with Miss Caite,” Lorna remarked sternly. Her voice was hard, but her eyes were soft as she grasped his elbow and steered him toward a pair of deep chairs flanking the windows.

Jed ran his fingers through his thick hair until it stood on end. How could he admit what had passed between he and Caite in the cabin without casting aspersions on her character? He had meant what he told Caite about being honest. He had had every intention of coming clean on the matter should his father have asked. That was when he thought Caite was making love to him with full knowledge of her actions and the consequences. Now that he knew she had come to him with innocent intent, how could he destroy her reputation?

"She must've caught a chill during the rainstorm,” he blurted, avoiding Lorna's shrewd gaze.

"Perhaps. Or is there something else you would be wishing to tell me, Little Jed?"

"Tarnation, Lorna, you know I don't like being called that. Especially since everyone calls Pa Buck now, anyway."

He could tell she knew he was avoiding her deeper inquiry. Lorna frowned at him, then shrugged. As she stood, brushing the front of her apron, she fixed him with the stare that had always wrung the truth from him in the past.

"Miss Caite was to telling me the same exact story."

"She was?"

Lorna pursed her lips at him. “Yes, she was, Jed."

Jed spread his hands as if he were innocent as a lamb. Lorna, he could see, knew otherwise, but she was unable to accuse him. Even she would not wish to compromise the young mistress’ reputation with the mention of an indiscretion, in case there had been none.

"I reckon I'd like to see her, if that's all right."

"I suppose you may. Since your father—” She said the words pointedly. “—is not here, you must be making her feel welcome. After all, she is to be your new step-mama."

Jed winced at the obvious irony in her statement. A step-mama who was younger than he! Well, it had happened before out here, where women were scarcer than flowers in December.

"Well, all right then,” Jed said.

Heading back the narrow hallway leading to the master bedroom, Jed felt a chill sweat begin to rise between his shoulder blades and along his brow. He had never felt more anxious about facing anybody. Even facing his father after setting the pigs free so they overran his mother's flower patch had not been as daunting a prospect.

He stopped outside the heavy, carved door to his father's room. Squaring his shoulders, he raised his hand to knock. He was pretty sure Caite was practically going to skin him alive.

He was also pretty sure he'd deserve it.

Caite had wakened from her swoon disoriented and slightly nauseous. She was lying in a wide bed with simple, carved head and foot boards made from what seemed to be whole tree limbs. The cotton sheets were cool against her hot face. She heard a woman humming.

"Gerda?” she had asked, certain now she was home in Serenity, waking from a nightmare. She had thought if she blinked carefully enough, surely even the bed would begin to look familiar.

"I am Lorna,” the kindly housekeeper had said softly, hurrying to Caitleen's side and pressing a damp cloth to the younger woman's forehead.

Caite had sat straight up in bed, the past days’ events rushing to her. “I am at Heatherfield!"

From there on the conversation had seemed to grow more convoluted with every word. Lorna, concern evident in her shining blue eyes, asked her if she was all right.

Well, she certainly was not all right, might never be all right again, but Caite was not about to compound her shame by admitting that to a stranger, no matter how kind.

She had told Lorna a story about catching a chill. Lorna had accepted the tale, but Caite could see the doubt fill the housekeeper's eyes. Lorna had bustled out of the room shortly after, leaving Caite to rest.

As if I could, she thought miserably. Sweet heaven, what a mess she had made of her life this time! How could she have been so blind? Jed's outbursts and accusations made perfect sense to her now. Of course he had thought her wanton and of loose morals. He thought she was preparing to cuckhold his father! How lascivious she must have seemed, kissing and touching him so fervently. A hot blush stole over her at the memory. She could never face him again.

She did not wish to face him again. She did not wish to look upon his handsome, lying face and remember that once she thought it was the face of a man she could love. A man she probably did love. And oh! The shame and misery of loving a man who had betrayed her.

The loud knock at the door startled her. Her mouth dried. It had to be him.

"Who ... who is it?” she called.

"Caitleen, it's me. Jed,” he added unnecessarily, as if the very sound of his voice was not forever imprinted upon her ears.

She wanted nothing more than to send him away. Instead, she smoothed her hair and pinched some color into her cheeks. If she had to face that deceitful blackguard, then let him see her looking presentable.

"Come in.”
Good.
Her voice had just the right amount of cold disinterest. He could certainly not mistake her feelings toward him.

Jed entered the room, and for just a moment, her heart leaped. Then the sheer magnitude of his betrayal slammed into her with the force of a stampede. This man had used her, lied to her, and now he entered the room with a defiant hangdog look on his face, as if he could not decide to apologize or accuse her again of impropriety.

"What do you want?” Caite asked, her icy voice belying the turmoil within.

"I just came to see how you were doing,” Jed replied. He did not seem to know what he should do with his hands. First, he hooked them from his pockets, then crossed his arms and tucked his hands along his sides. His discomfort pleased her. He deserved it, and more.

"I have been better, thank you."

"Caite, about what happened—"

"It is very clear to me what happened.” His hair was already rumpled, she noted, as if he had been running his hands through it repeatedly. For a moment, her fingers itched to smooth the thick darkness. She resisted.

"It's not clear at all,” Jed replied. He took a few steps toward her, then seemed to think better of it and approached the window. He stood there in silence for a time, as if gathering his thoughts. When he turned back to her, his mouth was set in a familiar grim line. His eyes, however, were almost pleading. “I had no idea you thought it was me."

"But you knew it was not.” Her words were clipped, precise and hostile. “And you made love to me knowing, Jed."

"You didn't try to stop me!"

"I believed I was going to marry you!” Caite cried, outraged that even now he would find a way to switch the blame to her. “I never would've allowed you to touch me if I had known..."

"How could you not have known?” Jed exploded, beginning to pace the room.

"How could I have known?” Caite retorted, her Irish temper flaring. “I was told I was going to marry Jed Peters. You told me your name was Jed Peters. Of course I assumed it was you!"

"Well, it wasn't!"

"Thank God for that!” Caite retorted.

Jed just stared at her. They were both breathing hard. Jed had pulled himself up to his full height, his back straight, his fists clenched. He looked so affronted she might have laughed, had she not felt the prick of tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"You didn't seem to mind the thought of marrying me when you were crawling all over me."

She refused to rise to his bait. She would not honor his crude comment with a response. Let him play the part of the cad. He was perfectly suited for it.

"I told Lorna you caught a chill, and that's why you fainted.” Jed said when he saw she was not going to reply.

"How convenient,” Caite answered dryly. “That is what I told her as well."

"What are you going to do about my father?” Jed asked suddenly.

"I believe the true question is what are you going to do about your father,” Caitleen replied caustically. “I have yet to meet the man."

"I mean are you still going to marry him?” Jed asked shortly, as if his previous comment had been obvious, and she incredibly lack-witted.

Caitleen was silent. She had signed a contract agreeing to the marriage, and she supposed she was legally bound to adhere to that. And, really, what were her options? Marriage to Hammond or Jed Peters, the senior. She had agreed to the latter. Nothing she and Jed had done could change that.

"I suppose I shall marry him,” replied Caite evenly. “If, that is, he will have me."

Jed's jaw tightened, and he headed toward the door. “He'll have you, all right."

"Even after...?” Reluctant to voice the question, she left it to dangle in the air.

Jed stopped and turned before he reached the door. “There's no reason for anyone to know about what happened, Caitleen. For both our sakes."

So that was it. No one was to know he had compromised her. Despite how his callous attitude had angered her, Caite breathed in relief. Her reputation, if not her maidenhood, would remain intact.

"What about being so honest, Jed?” She could not resist the barb.

He shrugged, then pierced her with his penetrating green stare. “I told you I would tell the truth if my father asked. We just have to be certain he doesn't ask."

Caite laughed bitterly. “Oh, I do not think I will have any trouble at all pretending we are no more than casual acquaintances, Jed. It will be my fondest desire to forget I ever allowed you to touch me."

Except I know that's not true, Caite thought miserably, as Jed's only response to her lie was a curt nod and the slamming of the door.

Jed rode hard, the great stallion beneath him moving effortlessly along the ground. Jed could feel the horse's muscles bunching and relaxing with each stride. The animal responded to the slightest tension in his master's thighs, the lightest touch upon the halter. Zeus seemed to sense Jed's mood because he ran fast and hard over the field, his great hooves sending up clouds of dirt.

Finally, both horse and rider reached the crest of the hill overlooking the house. Jed pulled Zeus to a halt. Both were breathing hard from the exertion. Zeus snorted and danced, but quickly settled when Jed slid from his back and led him to drink sparingly from the clear stream running nearby.

"Caitleen O'Neal,” Jed whispered to himself. From his vantage point, he could see the window to his father's room. He was too far away to possibly see inside, but he could imagine her all the same.

From behind him, he heard hooves approaching slowly. Turning, he spotted Shorty, astride the small piebald mare he called Pinta, appearing along the back side of the hill. Shorty raised a hand to him, slid from the mare's saddle and slapped her rump toward the creek.

"Been riding hard,” Shorty said by way of greeting.

Jed nodded. “Zeus needed the exercise."

The other man, who despite his name was tall and rangy like a coyote, laughed. “I reckon he's not the only one."

"I don't know what you mean."

Shorty laughed again, the sun-wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. “I seen that Miss O'Neal, Jed. Iffen I'd been the one to spend three-four days with that filly, I'd need a good hard ride, too."

Jed turned back to the view below. “She came to marry my Pa, Shorty. She might as well be wearing a barbed-wired bustle for all the closer I'll be able to get."

"Maybe.” Shorty stood in silence for a minute. He knew when to keep quiet.

"Goldarn it, Shorty, she thought she was supposed to be marrying me!” Jed blurted, unable to match Shorty's silence and instantly ashamed he had spoken.

"I reckon I can see how she might have mistook you for your Pa."

Jed almost made a smart reply, but relaxed when he saw the grin spreading across Shorty's face. Blast it all, that woman got him so riled he didn't even recognize a joke when he heard one!

"Mail-order brides aren't supposed to be pretty,” Jed grumbled.

"Pretty, heck. She's a sight more'n that,” Shorty answered sympathetically. “What are you gonna tell Buck?"

Jed fixed the other man with a glare. “Nothing, and neither are you."

"He ain't stupid, your Pa,” Shorty replied calmly. “And if you keep looking at her the way you done today, nobody's gonna have to tell him anything."

"She told me she's going to honor her marriage contract,” Jed stated grimly, pulling Zeus away from the water and Pinta. “That's marriage to my father, Shorty. I reckon that means keeping my mouth shut. I owe her that much anyway."

Shorty shrugged, gathering his mare's reins and swinging himself up on her back. “I reckon you might owe it to your Pa, too."

Jed watched silently as Shorty rode down the hill toward the house. He did owe his father. Buck couldn't marry a woman who'd slept with his son. The old man had contacted the Baptist program because he wanted companionship, someone to sit with on long winter nights. Jed supposed that meant keeping him warm on those winter nights, too. His throat closed jealously at the thought of Caite lying in his father's bed, submitting to his caresses.

Well, blast it, his father had waited a long time for his bride to arrive. He deserved someone who would make him happy. But why did it have to be Caitleen?

Jed swung back up on Zeus, determined to ride until all thoughts of a certain flame-haired woman were banished from his mind. Zeus pranced and shifted beneath him, seemingly just as eager to go. As the big stallion began to run, Jed could tell he was going to be in for a mighty long ride.