Short Straw Bride (Harlequin Historical) Read online

  “I can’t scold them as if they were children.”

  “Why not? In my experience, men frequently act like children. It might do them some good to be treated as such.”

  “It might, but I’m not going to be the one to do it.” Eleanor’s imagination quailed at the thought.

  “Then ask Luke to say something to them,” Letty suggested.

  “Luke?” Eleanor’s tone was so blank that Letty’s brows rose again.

  “Luke. Your husband,” she said.

  “I know who he is.” Eleanor flushed and looked away.

  “I thought you might have forgotten.”

  “Of course not.” Eleanor took a sip from her teacup, using the action as an excuse to avoid her friend’s eyes for a moment. Forget Luke? It would be easier to forget her own name. “I couldn’t ask him to speak to the men,” she said as she set her cup back in its saucer.

  “Why not?”

  “I just couldn’t.” She caught Letty’s look and sighed. Letty could be annoyingly stubborn at times. “I don’t really…know him well enough,” she said slowly, trying to put her feelings into words. “We’ve only been married two weeks and I just don’t feel comfortable making demands.”

  Letty considered that for a moment and then shook her head. “I think you’re wrong, Ellie. The longer you go not making any demands, the harder it’s going to be to make them.” She lifted one hand to still the argument she could see in Eleanor’s eyes. “I’m not suggesting that you turn into a shrew overnight, but you don’t have to be a doormat, either.”

  “I’m not a doormat,” Eleanor protested.

  “Have you had a fight with Luke?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then you’re a doormat.” Letty’s tone brooked no argument.

  “But we’ve only been married two weeks,” Eleanor protested.

  “Past time for a fight. Or at least a small quarrel. You spent too many years living with your aunt, learning to hold your tongue because it did you no good to do otherwise.”

  “I can’t just pick a fight with Luke over nothing.”

  “There’s always something to quarrel with a man about.” Letty spoke with the voice of experience and Eleanor smiled despite herself.

  A comfortable silence fell between the two women. Eleanor sipped her tea and felt herself relax for the first time in two weeks. There was mending to be done and in a little while she needed to start preparations for supper—feeding the animals, as she’d come to think of it. But for now she wouldn’t think of anything beyond enjoying the moment.

  “What about his brother?” Letty asked abruptly.

  “Daniel? What about him?”

  “What’s he like? I mean, have you found him to be pleasant?”

  “Yes.” Eleanor’s answer was slow. She wondered at the reason for Letty’s question. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered.” Letty seemed interested in a minute spot on the skirt of her rose-colored silk dress.

  “You’re attracted to him.” Eleanor’s tone was gleeful.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Letty snapped. Her cheeks were pinker than they had been. “I was just making polite conversation, that’s all.”

  “He is attractive,” Eleanor said, ignoring her friend’s feeble protest. Of course Daniel was attractive. He was practically the spitting image of his brother. How could he be anything else? “Oh, Letty, it would be such fun if you married Daniel! Then we’d be sisters by marriage.”

  “Marry him? I don’t even know him!” But Letty’s protest wasn’t as vehement as it might have been.

  “We can take care of that. Once he meets you, he’ll fall in love with you.”

  “We’ve been introduced and he showed no signs of being smitten. He barely nodded to me at the wedding,” Letty observed with a hint of annoyance.

  “There was so much hustle and bustle, I doubt he could have pointed out the bride,” Eleanor said soothingly.

  It was all she could do to refrain from rubbing her hands together with glee. In the years she’d known Letty, this was the first interest her friend had ever shown in someone of the opposite sex, despite the fact that several eligible bachelors had put considerable effort into courting the young widow. That it should be Daniel who’d attracted Letty’s eye was simply too perfect.

  “You could invite us to dinner,” she suggested. “That would give Daniel a chance to get to know you.”

  “Absolutely not!” Letty’s teacup clattered against the saucer as she set them both down. “I won’t stoop to chasing the man. Besides, you’re jumping to conclusions. I never said I found him in the least attractive.”

  “But you didn’t say you didn’t, either.” Eleanor’s tone was sly. She was not in the least discouraged by Letty’s attitude. All she had to do was make sure their paths crossed and trust Daniel to have the good sense to see what a wonderful wife Letty would make.

  “I don’t know what you’re plotting, but I want no part of it,” Letty said when she saw the look in her friend’s eyes. Her movements were agitated as she stood and reached for her reticule and gloves. “I should be getting home.”

  She appeared relieved when Eleanor didn’t pursue the topic of Daniel’s suitability as husband material. Letty asked if Eleanor and Luke would be attending the upcoming Fourth of July celebration in Black Dog, easily the town’s most festive holiday of the year. Eleanor didn’t know but said she’d ask Luke.

  “Don’t forget to do so. It wouldn’t be much fun without you.” Letty brushed a kiss on Eleanor’s cheek. “And don’t forget that a good quarrel now and then can do wonders for a marriage. Besides, it can be such fun to make up,” she added with a wicked smile that made Eleanor blush.

  Eleanor stayed on the porch, watching as Letty drove her smart little buggy out of the yard. She waited until it was out of sight before turning back to the house. She mulled over Letty’s suggestion that she needed to be more demanding but discarded it almost immediately. Letty just didn’t understand. True, she had been married, which made her the voice of experience. But Letty had been in love with her husband and he with her. Their situation had been altogether different from hers and Luke’s.

  Ask Luke to speak to the men? How could she? Aside from the time they spent in bed together, she felt as if she barely knew him. And the fact that she’d come to know him very well indeed in the Biblical sense only clouded the issue. Outside the bedroom they rarely exchanged more than a few sentences in a day. And they didn’t talk much inside the bedroom, either, she admitted, flushing as she considered what they did do.

  Still, wonderful as his lovemaking was, it wasn’t enough to satisfy the part of her that insisted that there was more to a marriage than that. Other than in bed, she might almost have been invisible for all the attention Luke paid her. Not that he was ever rude, but she wanted more than politeness from him. She wanted…

  She wanted him to love her.

  No matter how often she told herself that it was a foolish, romantic notion, that marriage didn’t require love, she couldn’t give up the dream of having a husband who loved her the way her father had loved her mother.

  Eleanor grinned as she considered Letty’s suggestion that she pick a fight with Luke. Somehow, she couldn’t quite believe that that was the best way to make a man fall in love with her. Obviously, she’d have to think of something else.

  In the meantime, there was dinner to prepare and she still had to think of some way to persuade the men that eating like a pack of wolves was not the best form of behavior. If only she knew how this feminine “civilizing influence” was supposed to work. Lord knew, she needed a double dose of it here.

  If Luke had suspected that Eleanor was less than content with their marriage, he would have been surprised. As far as he was concerned, marriage was a great deal better than he’d ever anticipated. When he’d listed the attributes he required in a wife, he’d had little hope of fulfilling them all, but he’d managed to do just that.

  Dust
no longer coated every surface. Meals were neither burned nor raw. In fact, if he had a complaint about his wife’s cooking, it was that it was too good. It took a considerable effort of will to drag himself from the table and climb back into the saddle. His clothes were clean and mended, he was well fed, the house was becoming a home again and, on top of all that, he’d married a woman who had all the sweet passion a man could possibly want.

  He’d made a good choice, he thought now, his gaze pardonably smug as he looked around the parlor, admiring the gleaming surfaces and the renewed color of his mother’s treasured rug, which had been thoroughly beaten a few days ago and then relaid over a bed of fresh straw.

  “Place looks like it used to,” Daniel commented, his thoughts moving along the same lines as his brother’s.

  “Yup.” Luke noticed that the ashes on his cigar had grown dangerously long, and reached for the ashtray. The ash dropped off before he got there and he used the toe of his boot to rub it into the rug before tapping the remainder off in the ashtray.

  Eleanor had already gone upstairs, so there was no possibility of her seeing him drop ashes on her freshly cleaned rug. Not that she would make a fuss, even if she did, he thought. Didn’t have a bad-tempered bone in her body, near as he could tell. He thought he heard a sound from upstairs, but Daniel spoke before he could decide whether or not he’d really heard something.

  “Best pie I’ve ever laid a tooth to.” The ashtray was beyond Daniel’s reach, so he tapped his ashes into a cut-glass bowl that held decorative waxed fruit.

  “She can cook.” Luke allowed a trace of smugness to color his words.

  Hearing it, Daniel grinned. “Got just about everything you wanted.”

  “Yup.”

  “No regrets?”

  “Nope.” He wondered if Eleanor was in bed yet. The thought of going up to join her held more interest than smoking another cigar with his brother, he decided, examining the tip of the one he held. He tilted his head toward the door, thinking he’d heard something but, again, Daniel spoke before he could decide for sure.

  “I never thought I’d envy you for drawing the short straw when we decided one of us had to get married,” Daniel said ruefully.

  He would have said more, but this time they both heard the same sound. A startled gasp, followed by a soft flurry of movement from the direction of the hall. Luke was on his feet and in the doorway in the space of a heartbeat. He caught only a glimpse of Eleanor’s ankles as she disappeared up the stairs in a swirl of muslin.

  He winced as the sound of their bedroom door being slammed echoed through the house.

  His face expressionless, Luke turned back into the parlor. Carrying his cigar over to the ashtray, he rubbed it out, taking great pains to extinguish every trace of embers. Daniel cleared his throat.

  “You hadn’t told her about us drawing straws?” he asked.

  “Didn’t seem much point in it.” Luke shrugged.

  “Women can be a little peculiar about things like that.” Daniel stood and stubbed out his own cigar in the ashtray.

  “She may be a little annoyed but she’s a sensible girl. I’ll have a little talk with her,” Luke said in his best husbandly tone.

  “There’s room in the bunkhouse,” Daniel offered.

  “She’s not the sort to throw a fit.”

  Daniel gave him a doubtful look as he bent to pick up his hat from where it had rested on the sofa. He put it on, looking at his older brother from beneath its shadow. “I said it before but I’ll say it again. Ain’t the woman been born that can’t throw a fit, given the right circumstance.”

  “My wife doesn’t throw fits,” Luke said firmly, confident that he was right.

  “There’s room in the bunkhouse,” Daniel repeated. He clapped his hand on Luke’s shoulder before leaving.

  Luke waited until he heard the front door shut behind Daniel before heading upstairs. If Eleanor was going to throw a fit, he had no desire for Daniel to hear it. Not that he thought for a minute that she was going to do any such thing. But it did occur to him as he reached the second floor that he really hadn’t spent all that much time with his bride, other than in bed, of course. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he might.

  He reached for the doorknob and felt a surge of relief when it turned easily beneath his hand. He’d half expected the door to be locked against him. She might be a little upset. Maybe she’d even shed a few tears, but she was a sensible girl and she’d be reasonable. Luke pushed open the door and stepped into the room, prepared to comfort his weeping bride.

  “What the—” He ducked as a book sailed past his ear and slammed into the wall beside the door. His eyes followed its trajectory back to the source and his reasonable explanation for what Eleanor had overheard vanished from his thoughts.

  His gentle, sensible bride stood on the other side of the bed, the fury in her eyes at odds with the flowing femininity of her nightdress and wrapper. Maybe she wasn’t going to be reasonable after all, Luke decided as he pushed the door quietly shut behind him.

  Chapter Ten

  “You low-down, stinking polecat!” Another book sailed across the room to land with a thud against the wall.

  There wasn’t a tear in sight, Luke noticed as he dodged the missile. But if looks could kill, he’d have died right where he stood. Since looks alone wouldn’t accomplish the task, Eleanor was apparently more than willing to try direct methods.

  A silver-backed hairbrush and matching comb were fired in his direction with the speed and accuracy of a gunfighter throwing lead. Luke winced as the brush bounced off his shoulder.

  “You are the most disgusting, filthy excuse for a human being I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet in my entire life,” she told him as her fingers closed around the handle of the wash pitcher.

  “Eleanor—”

  The pitcher sailed past his head, smashing against the wall and splattering Luke with water and shards of china.

  “Stop this right now,” he said. But his stern tone was made less effective by the fact that he was forced to hop to one side to avoid the bowl the pitcher had been sitting in. The sound of shattering china seemed only to fuel her rage.

  “I’d have been better off marrying a one-armed leper,” she snarled as she groped for the mirror that matched the brush and comb.

  “Don’t you throw that,” he ordered. The mirror just missed his head. “Dammit, woman, stop throwing things and let me explain!”

  “There’s nothing to explain.” She’d found another book and sent it hurtling across the room.

  “You don’t know what you heard,” Luke protested, dodging the book and starting toward her.

  “I may have been dumb enough to marry you, but that doesn’t mean I’m deaf, too,” she snarled. Out of ammunition, she jerked off one of her slippers and threw it at him as she backed away from his advance. “I heard exactly what Daniel said. You married me because you drew a short straw and had to find yourself a wife. You married me because you lost.” Her normally soft voice rose to something close to a shriek.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Luke said, knowing it had been exactly like that.

  “You stay away from me,” she demanded, taking another step back. She brandished her remaining shoe, her dark eyes snapping with rage.

  Luke kept an eye on the shoe. She’d proven to have uncomfortably accurate aim.

  “You calm down and stop acting like a…a woman,” Luke told her, unable to think of a more suitable comparison.

  “Acting like a woman is better than acting like a jackass.”

  “Put that shoe down right now.”

  Luke edged a little closer. The shoe stayed where it was, her arm poised to throw.

  “Stay away from me.”

  “If you don’t put that shoe down this minute, I’m going to put you over my knee, I swear I will!” He’d never laid a violent hand on a woman in his life, but he was starting to think he might make an exception for his wife.

  “You wouldn’t
dare.” She looked more infuriated than intimidated, and the shoe didn’t move.

  “If you’re going to act like a child, I’ll treat you the same way.”

  “Better a child than a skunk,” she snapped.

  “I’ve had just about enough of this,” he warned, and took an authoritative step toward her.

  The shoe clipped the side of his forehead, the shock of it staggering him more than the blow itself. The little witch had actually thrown it, despite his warnings. Luke lifted his hand to touch the injured area, drawing away fingers streaked with blood from where the hard heel had cut the skin.

  Anger grabbed him by the throat. He lifted his eyes to his wife. Her face was white, as if she were as shocked by her action as he was. Her eyes met his, reading the steely intent in his look. With a squeak of dismay she turned to flee the beast she’d roused.

  Luke caught her before she’d gone two steps, tumbling her back onto the bed in a tangle of muslin skirts. She fought like a wildcat, her legs churning as she tried to kick him. She managed to land a few blows but accomplished little more than bruising her bare toes against his shins, which were protected by the tops of his boots. She tried to bring her hands up to strike him but she was no match for Luke’s superior strength, and it wasn’t long before she found herself pinned facedown across her husband’s lap, her legs caught between his, the solid weight of his forearm across her shoulders.

  “Don’t you—” Eleanor’s muffled warning ended on a shriek as the flat of Luke’s hand came down across her derriere. The muslin of her nightdress provided little cushioning, either for that blow or the two that followed in quick succession.

  Luke’s hand came up, ready to deliver another swat, but with a pitiful little cry Eleanor went limp, her face buried in the covers, her shoulders shaking in an apparent paroxysm of tears. Guilt slammed into him. Good God, what was he doing? He hadn’t lost his temper like that in more years than he could remember. And here he was, losing it with his wife, beating her, for God’s sake! He’d reduced her to tears, probably scared the life out of her. Staring down at her trembling back, Luke felt lower than a snake’s belly.