Adelaide: Bride of Maryland (American Mail-Order Bride 7) Page 7

  “It’s for your husband,” Becca said quietly.

  “I don’t think John…” Realization broke through her innocence and heat flooded her cheeks, neck, chest, all over her body. She clumsily rewrapped the package and tucked it under her arm. “I see. I think it best if we concentrate on some fabrics that’ll be strong enough to withstand working on the homestead.” She remembered the tears and rips along the skirt of her black dress. She’d tried to mend it, but it would never be suitable to wear in public again.

  “Over here, I have several lighter weight fabrics for summer use, but you'll probably want to look at the heavier ones for winter wear as well.”

  They shuffled through the store and Adelaide picked enough material for three different work skirts and some tops. She added some undergarments, shoes, and rose water. It was the one fragrance she'd loved since she was young.

  The three women finally purchased their items and left the store, much to Adelaide's relief.

  After setting her things on the counter, her eyes settled on the lilac dress displayed in the window.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Becca rushed to the front and turned it around so Adelaide could admire it.

  “Yes, it is exquisite, but I have no need for such fine clothes.”

  Becca began to unfasten the dress from the mannequin. “Mr. Rivers did say he wanted you to have some clothes for church. And my husband tells me there are quite a few social events during the summer months. Barn-raises, charity auctions, church picnics. You’ll be the envy of those women in this dress.”

  “I couldn’t. Please, it’s too much.”

  “No, it’s not. You would look beautiful in such a dress,” a familiar voice said from behind her. Prickles formed on her arms and legs. It wasn’t a kind voice like John’s, or gentle like her father’s. It sounded malicious and disturbing. She froze but couldn’t ignore the buffalo-sized lump in her belly, warning her to move away. The door chimed as it swung shut, but Adelaide couldn’t look.

  “Mr. Salter.” Becca stopped removing the garment, her gaze jumping from Adelaide to Salter and back. “What can I get for you?”

  “That dress, I believe. Let’s see.” He circled Adelaide like a vulture, no doubt waiting for the last hope in her heart to die. The sounds of his boots against the floor stopped in front of her and she managed to stare straight into his eyes. She wouldn’t back down. She wouldn’t let this man scare her.

  “That won’t be necessary. I decided against it.” She turned to face the counter. “Mrs. Donahue, if you please. I’d like you to wrap my items so I can be on my way." Adelaide forced the calm she didn’t feel to remain on her face. “If you’ll excuse me, sir.”

  “Come on, ma’am. You can’t pass up a dress like that. You definitely have the body for it.” He stepped closer. “I remember when little Laura Rivers came in here the first time, with her eyes large and her small lip trembling in anticipation. But sadly, her big brother couldn’t afford what she wanted. Seems he has difficulty taking care of his women.” He closed the space between them. “Don’t worry, I bought dresses for her. I bought a lot of things for her. Took care of her the way John never could, and I can take care of you. We can make you a widow by nightfall.”

  Adelaide would have slapped him across the face if it wouldn’t have caused her more pain than it would him.

  “That dress would fit you in all the right places, and that lace around the neck…” He brushed the hair behind her shoulder before she could stop him. His hand stilled on her hair, he held tight. “What’s this?”

  She pressed her palms to his chest to shove him away, but squealed in pain.

  “Does your husband know you’re damaged goods? That someone already branded you as his woman?”

  She squirmed, but his grip on her hair only clenched tighter. She stomped on his foot with the heel of her boot, but he only laughed.

  “At least I know where your fire comes from now. That's one ugly scar. You better come home with me. I'll still bed you, even if your husband won't.”

  “You’ll unhand my wife, Salter,” John’s voice boomed through the shop.

  Becca dove into action, hurrying around the counter. “Let’s calm things down, now. No reason to get into a situation you’ll both regret. Neither of you would want to spend the night in the pokey.”

  “I think I’ll take my chances,” Salter snarled.

  “Did I mention Sheriff Greggor headed back east?" John said. "His pa died and he inherited some property. Left this morning. Doesn't sound like he'll be coming back either. His deputy's taking over.”

  Something flashed across Salter’s face. Fear?

  Adelaide took the opportunity to twist out of his grip.

  Recovering quickly, Salter sneered. “I hope you can get a refund, John.”

  Adelaide stood in the middle of the store between the two men. One, a monster who spoke her worst fears, and the other, a dream that would no doubt be repulsed by her appearance. But she knew she could hide it no longer.

  “Did you bed her in the dark, so you wouldn’t have to look at it?” Salter reached for Adelaide, but she quickly stepped away from him.

  Seeing the confusion on John’s face, she tucked her hair behind her ear and turned her head. He looked at her a moment then gently pulled her to his side.

  “Go near my wife again and you’ll be the deformed one.”

  Deformed? His words pierced her chest, driving straight through her. She tried to fight the overwhelming emotions swarming her, but her lip trembled.

  “Besides, I love her mark. It is a sign of beauty. One that shows just how brave and strong my wife is.” John pressed his lips to her neck. She felt the pressure even if she couldn’t feel the heat of his kiss through the dreadful scar. Tears streaked down her face despite her attempt to keep them at bay.

  Salter stormed out of the store, but she knew he’d return to make trouble eventually. Men like that always did.

  John turned her to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry. You deserve better than a girl…deformed by hideous scars. But…” More tears streamed down her face.

  “It wasn't that man who did this, was it?” John asked.

  She shook her head, unable to speak beyond the sobs racking her body.

  "It was from the fire at her factory in Boston,” Becca said. “She told me about it on the train here, how she’d gotten those burns by saving her friend from the fire.” Becca handed her a handkerchief. “I was so nervous coming here, facing a future with a man I’d never met, but your story gave me courage, Adelaide."

  He rubbed her arms. “You should have told me. You can tell me anything.” His fingers grazed her chin then her collarbone, and finally her neck. “Beautiful. All of you is beautiful.”

  Chapter Eight

  John bathed out at the bunkhouse, dressed and combed his hair then headed to the main house for dinner, as he’d done every day for the last two weeks. The evening air invigorated him, and the thought of seeing Adelaide for the first time since breakfast made him feel like a child on his first hunt. His feet were light, and he whistled as he passed the framing they’d started on the addition to the house. It would be bigger, room for children, but not overdone like Salter's house. No, he wanted a warm home, healthy children, and a beautiful, loving wife. Adelaide didn’t disappoint there.

  He passed by his men with a nod, ignoring their teasing. Everyone knew he went back to the bunkhouse each night, no matter how late it was. It didn’t matter that they were married, they’d only known each other for a short while. He wanted to give Adelaide time to adjust, despite his own needs and wants. And boy, did he want Adelaide.

  “Enjoy your wife.” Charlie said.

  “Hey, aren’t the walls supposed to be up by now on my house?” John retorted.

  Charlie shrugged. “Can’t. Billy said to wait for him to return from Butte.”

  John scratched his head. “Isn’t th
is his second trip this week to Butte?”

  Charlie threw another log on the camp fire. “Yep.”

  John shook his head, Billy never traveled to Butte twice in a week. Heck, he didn’t travel there twice in a month.

  John took the front steps two at a time up to the front porch and opened the door to Adelaide’s beautiful smile and inhaled deeply. Her hair was tied up for the first time. “You look beautiful tonight,” he breathed.

  She threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply, longingly. Her soft body pressed to his, her fingers raking through his hair. Lately, her vigor was becoming too much for him if he was going to remain a gentleman. He broke the kiss. “Whoa. What was that for?”

  “I missed you,” she mewled, her long lashes batting at him in a way that could make a man go stupid.

  “I missed you, too.” He caressed the soft skin of her cheek and enjoyed their closeness, but when his fingers reached her scar, she brushed his hand away. “You shouldn’t worry about the scars. You’re beautiful, the most beautiful woman in all of Dawson County.”

  She smiled. “You make me believe I can actually be around others with my hair up and my head high.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “You can. You win every man’s eye the minute you walk in a room.”

  She shook her head. “And you said you didn’t know how to speak to women.”

  John brushed his thumb across her lips, longing to taste her sweetness again. “No, I said Stella told me that.”

  Adelaide took him by the hand, the way she had every day since her palms had healed. “Come sit. I know you worked hard today. The men came back griping about how much you pushed them.”

  “We’re trying to figure out how to keep our cattle healthy and have enough land for the Texans to use, all while dealing with the largest water source being cut off. Salter keeps buying out more and more homesteaders. If he keeps this up, we're going to have issues.”

  Adelaide’s hands slipped to his shoulders and she massaged them as if she knew exactly where he needed her touch.

  “I know women aren’t supposed to have an opinion on business, but…” She seemed to hesitate, still reluctant to offer her opinions despite his insisting that she can tell him anything.

  "But?" he encouraged.

  "I’ve been painting more and more of the landscapes around here and I’ve noticed a larger water source to the west of us."

  "That's Wilson’s land, but why would he allow us to use it?”

  Adelaide kissed his cheek. “Well, it's not fenced off, right? So there's a good chance he's good with your cattle coming onto his land. That and the last time I was in town, Becca told me Wilson's about as fond of Salter as you are. He doesn’t want Salter taking over any more land. If Salter managed to choke you out, then Wilson will be next, right?”

  John turned on the bench. “Where did you come from?”

  Adelaide cocked her head to one side. A small curl fell over her cheek, accentuating her perfect face. “A train.”

  He laughed, unable to help it. The woman was so beautiful, intelligent, and kind, yet she didn’t realize how special she was. He swooped her into his arms and spun her around the room. “You’re amazing.”

  She giggled, light, fun, and intoxicating. “I think you were in the sun too long today.”

  He set her down on her feet. “Hey, speaking of sun. Billy said you painted him the most amazing picture of the sunrise over the canyon. Why does my right-hand man get a picture when you haven’t even shown your work to me?”

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t call my work amazing. It’s just a hobby. One I shouldn’t be wasting so much time on. Perhaps if you let me ride with you—”

  “As much as I appreciate your brilliance, strength, and hard work, I can’t have you ride with my men when they go on roundups. They’d never focus on their work if you were around. Now, are you going to show me those paintings, or are you going to deny your husband?” The words slipped from his mouth before he realized what he’d said. “I mean, I…uh, can you just show me the pictures?”

  “Certainly." She smiled, but it didn't hold the same warmth it usually did. "They’re in the back room. Stella didn’t want them left in my room. She said they’d get messed up.” Adelaide crossed the room. “And I’m not the one denying,” she mumbled.

  He opened his mouth, but shut it again. What did she mean? Was she ready to fully accept him as her husband? No, she couldn’t be. It was too soon, and he didn’t want to ruin what they’d developed so far.

  Stella opened her bedroom door. “What’s all the ruckus about out here?”

  “Nothing. Sorry to disturb you.” He scrubbed his face and eyed the doorway Adelaide had disappeared through. “Hey, when’s that man of yours returning from Butte? Now isn’t the time to have him running off on family business. Cook’s already been gone a long time.”

  “He’ll be back tomorrow.”

  He sighed. “I hope so. Each time he runs off, the men lose focus. Sometimes I think he should be running this place instead of me.”

  “He don’t want your job. It’s too stressful.” She craned her neck out a little further. “Where’s Adelaide? Did you run that poor girl out of here already?”

  John sank into the chair near the fireplace. “No, she went to gather her paintings. I haven’t seen them yet.”

  “Oh, then you going to bed with your wife?”

  “Stella,” John scolded.

  She didn’t back down, though. Instead, she marched around the couch, stopping directly in front of him. “You listen to me. You’re a married man, and that girl’s been getting more and more anxious that you don’t want her because she’s too ugly with that burn mark on her neck. You get in there and be a husband. Show her how beautiful she is, don't just tell her. Words can become meaningless unless they’re backed up by actions, you dunderhead. Unless you don’t want to be with your wife.”

  John looked toward the back room, willing Adelaide to return. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m trying to be a gentleman. The woman just got here, and she’s still trying to adjust to having a husband and a new life.”

  “No, you saved the girl from a horrible life with Salter, only to reject her now. You don’t see that, do you?”

  “See what?” His agitation growing, he stood and paced around the kitchen table and benches, trying to keep his temper under control.

  “You won’t get close to Adelaide because you don’t want to lose nobody else. Well, you can’t live your life being afraid, or you ain’t gonna live at all.”

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Adelaide’s voice broke his determination to prove Stella wrong. He turned to see her standing in the doorway and in that moment, he knew Stella was right. He couldn’t face losing her. He couldn’t face loving her with all his heart, only to have her ripped away from his life. Like his sister.

  Adelaide stepped forward and set the pictures on the table. “Stella, do you mind if I speak to John alone?”

  Stella didn’t say another word, just walked back to her room, the door clicking shut behind her.

  Adelaide took John’s hand and guided him to the arm chair in the living room then she sat on her knees before him. “John, I know what it’s like to lose someone. I know that same pain, the pain that you swear is going to eat at your insides until there's nothing left of you. I know the bitterness of facing the world when you feel like life shouldn’t continue. Most of all, I know that if we hide from pain, we’ll never truly feel loved. And I can’t imagine a better feeling.”

  John cleared his throat, freeing it of the lump that snowballed there. Adelaide sat in front of him bravely, her hair pulled back showing the world the mark he knew she wanted to hide. Her heart was already open to him when she’d only spent a short time with him.

  He took her hands in his and kissed each of them. “How could I sit here and be a coward when you're so brave? I’ve known you for less than a month, but I feel like if you left, I’d be lost fo
rever. How do I face tomorrow and the day after and the day after that, knowing I will love you more than any other for the rest of my life? If my sister’s death made me hard and cold to the world, certainly losing you would make me a monster.”

  She squeezed his hands. “You could never be a monster. I’ve known monsters and you, sir, are not one.”

  He heaved a gulp of air and resigned himself to opening his heart, to allowing him to love her and face the future together. “Adelaide, I could never love another woman―” She slid her hands away, but he clutched them tighter. “―the way I’m growing to love you.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes and slid down her face. He kissed the saltiness from her cheeks and chin.

  “Perhaps together we can heal and love again,” he said, his voice sounding foreign and hoarse.

  She swiped her remaining tears away and stood. “We have all the time we want. When we’re ready then we’ll be husband and wife.” The rose aroma from her skin faded away as her distance from him increased. “You wanted to see my paintings, but some are missing. Stella might have moved them, but here are a few I finished today. They’re still a little damp.”

  He looked at the images on the papers and swore they were alive. “Dear Lord in Heaven, those are beyond words.”

  “You like them? You don’t think I’m wasting my time on pointless doodles all day?”

  “How could creating something so magnificent be a waste of time?” He shuffled through them, gently laying each one out on a separate spot on the hardwood table. “Did you spend a lot of time learning art as a child? Your mother must be proud.”

  Adelaide bowed her head, but not before he saw the flash of disappointment on her face. “She thought it was a waste, said she’d indulged me long enough when my pa was alive. That it was time for me to learn to be a lady, not a painter.”

  “She was right. You don’t need to learn to be a painter because you’re already an artist.”