Short Straw Bride (Harlequin Historical) Read online

  Luke felt the light touch burn through the fabric of his shirt, heating his skin as if she held a branding iron. He momentarily forgot that he was standing on the banker’s front porch in broad daylight and that the girl in his arms was as innocent as a child. His tongue came out, tracing the tempting fullness of her lower lip, coaxing her to let him inside.

  Immediately she stiffened, drawing in a quick, shocked breath, her fingers suddenly tense against his chest. It wouldn’t take much to change her shock to surrender, he thought, his fingers tightening against the back of her neck. But this was no dance hall girl or even the widow he’d once kept company with in a neighboring town until she’d realized that letting him into her bed was not going to put another wedding ring on her finger.

  His mouth lifted from hers, his fingers loosening their hold on her nape. She sank back onto her heels and it was only then that he realized that she’d been standing on tiptoe to kiss him. He was reminded of his brother’s words that there didn’t seem to be much to her. But there was plenty, he decided, dropping his hand to his side and stepping back from her. Plenty to fill a man’s arms and his bed.

  Two weeks, he reminded himself. He settled his hat on his head. “I’ll see you in church.”

  “Yes.” Eleanor’s agreement was hardly more than a breath. She couldn’t have said another word if her life had depended on it. Luke looked at her, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. He nodded, as if satisfied with what he saw, and then turned and walked down the steps.

  She watched him bend and unloop the reins from the cannonball, and then he was swinging up into the saddle with an easy grace that made her breath catch. He reined the gray around, glancing back at her and touching his fingertips to the brim of his hat before nudging the horse into a canter.

  Eleanor watched until he was out of sight. Only then did her heartbeat slow to something approaching normal.

  She was getting married. And she was marrying Luke McLain. Wait till Letty heard about this!

  Chapter Six

  Two weeks later Eleanor stared at her reflection in the mirror over her dressing table and debated the possibility of climbing out the window and running to the railway station to catch the next train to anywhere but here. It was her wedding day, but the ashen girl in the mirror looked as if she faced a trip to the guillotine instead of a church.

  She started to pick up the brush that lay on the dressing table but her hand was shaking so badly that she doubted her ability to hold the brush, let alone use it. She let her hand drop to her lap and stared at her reflection with frightened eyes.

  Oh, Lord, what on earth had made her agree to this? True, she wanted to leave this house, and the past two weeks had certainly done nothing to change her mind. Aunt Dorinda had done most of the preparations for the wedding, but her cooperation had not been given out of concern for her niece but rather out of a desire that everything appear just as it should.

  With everything being done in such a harumscarum rush, it’s important that we observe the proprieties. We don’t want to give people anything more to talk about than we already have, she had added with a long-suffering sigh and an annoyed glance in Eleanor’s direction.

  No, it wasn’t the desire to stay in her uncle’s home that was making her have second thoughts. It was the sudden realization that she was marrying a total stranger. The few occasions on which she’d seen Luke McLain were hardly enough to qualify him as an acquaintance, let alone a husband. Of course, there was The Kiss, which she’d begun to think of in capital letters. When she thought about The Kiss, it wasn’t quite so hard to think about marrying him. But there was more to being married than kissing.

  A sharp knock on the door startled Eleanor half out of her skin. Without waiting for an invitation, Anabel pushed the door open and stepped inside. Looking at her younger cousin, Eleanor felt her heart sink. Anabel was wearing a white dress made of the finest lawn, trimmed in pale blue ribbons. A panel of matching blue, gathered on either hip, draped artfully from her tiny waist almost to her knees before being caught in the back and then falling gracefully to meet the two layers of pleats that marked the hem. With her golden curls framing the perfection of her face, Anabel was the very picture of beauty.

  Luke will take one look at her and realize what a terrible mistake he made. The fact that he’d had plenty of opportunities to observe Anabel’s beauty and had still proposed to her didn’t mean anything to Eleanor. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that her cousin would outshine her at her own wedding.

  “You look pale as a ghost,” Anabel offered by way of greeting. Leaving the door open behind her, she sauntered into the room and settled herself gracefully on the narrow bed. She studied her cousin, her pretty blue eyes bright with malice. “I know why he asked you to marry him.”

  “Do you?” Eleanor turned back to the mirror and willed her hand to steadiness as she picked up the brush and began dragging it through her thick dark hair.

  “It’s because you’re plain,” Anabel announced cheerfully.

  “Is it?” Eleanor refused to allow so much as a flicker of emotion to color her voice. Her reward was the annoyance that flashed across Anabel’s reflected face.

  “Sometimes a man will marry a plain wife because he can leave her at home and forget about her. He won’t have to worry about her attracting any unwanted attentions. Luke knows you won’t make any demands on him because you’ll be so grateful to him for marrying you in the first place. I’m only mentioning this so that you won’t spend too much time worrying over the fact that you aren’t a beautiful bride. Luke—”

  “Luke is a very lucky man, and I’m sure he knows it.” Letty’s words preceded her. She sailed into the room, her dark eyes snapping with anger. “And you are a nasty little cat who would have benefited a great deal from a few good spankings when you were a child. I’m afraid it’s too late for them to do any good now.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that!” Anabel’s porcelain complexion took on an apoplectic tint.

  “Don’t bother throwing a tantrum.” Letty began tugging off her gloves, eyeing Anabel’s flushed features with indifference. “If you start screaming I’d feel obliged to dash the contents of the wash pitcher in your face.”

  Eleanor swallowed an hysterical giggle at the shocked disbelief on Anabel’s face. In all her sixteen years, no one had ever spoken to her in such a fashion.

  “You can’t—”

  “I just have.” Letty arched her dark brows to convey her surprise that Anabel hadn’t noticed. “I’d suggest that you try to restrain your natural tendency toward malice, at least for today. If you do anything to cause Eleanor even a moment’s discomfort on her wedding day, I should feel obliged to speak to your mother about a certain scene I happened to witness between you and Johnny Rutherford.”

  Anabel gasped, her face flushing. Eleanor watched, fascinated, as she opened her mouth and then closed it again without speaking. There was a moment’s silence when it seemed as if Anabel was groping for something to say. Failing that, she rose from the bed and flounced out of the room, throwing Letty a look of hatred as she passed. Letty shut the door behind the girl.

  “That girl is a positive menace,” she said, turning back to Eleanor.

  “Did you really see her with Johnny Rutherford?”

  Johnny Rutherford’s father owned one of the three saloons that dotted Black Dog’s main street. Aunt Dorinda had been campaigning to have all three closed, and if she found out that her own daughter was associating with Harvey Rutherford’s son…

  “No.” Letty tucked her gloves into her reticule and set it aside before giving Eleanor a grin that was pure mischief. “But I’ve seen the two of them exchanging looks and it seemed a reasonable threat. I guess it worked. She looked as if I’d knocked the wind out of her. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble with her today,” she added, with pardonable satisfaction. “And you’re not to listen to a word she said, either. You look absolutely lovely.”
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  “Oh, Letty, I couldn’t look lovely no matter what I did.” Eleanor’s smile wobbled on the edge of tears. “Maybe Anabel is right. Maybe he is marrying me because I’m plain and—”

  “Don’t be a nitwit,” Letty snapped. Stepping over to the dressing table, she took the brush from Eleanor’s nerveless fingers and applied it to her hair. “You’re not plain. You’re not as flashy as your cousin, I’ll grant you that, but you’re far from plain. And I’ll tell you something else—you have a kind of beauty that will last. By the time Anabel is thirty, she’s going to look like a box of chocolates left out in the sun.”

  Despite her shaky nerves, Eleanor snorted with laughter at the image of Anabel’s prettiness melting away. Letty was deftly twisting her hair into place.

  “You’ll still look as fresh as spring long after Anabel looks like day-old mutton.”

  “I can’t imagine that, but you’re a dear friend to say as much. Oh, Letty, what on earth am I doing? Was I temporarily mad to agree to marry a man I don’t know?”

  “Women have been marrying men they don’t know since time began,” Letty said briskly. She pushed hairpins into place, and the heavy mass of unruly hair suddenly looked almost elegant. “I’d rather see you marry Luke McLain any day than throw yourself away on that stick Andrew Webb, which is what you were going to do. Would you rather be marrying him?”

  “No.” Eleanor didn’t have to consider her answer. From the moment she’d accepted Luke’s proposal, she’d hardly given a thought to Andrew, except to be glad she no longer had to consider marrying him. “It’s just that…he scares me,” she said, as much to herself as to Letty.

  “Joseph scared me half to death. I nearly fainted before I could say ‘I do.’”

  “But you said you loved him.” Startled, Eleanor looked at her friend.

  “I did, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared. It’s a natural thing for a woman to be frightened of marriage. We’re giving ourselves into a man’s care, hoping that he’ll be kind and that he’ll provide for us, knowing there’s little to be done if he turns out to be something much less than we’d hoped.”

  “If you’re trying to reassure me, you’re going the wrong way about it,” Eleanor said.

  “All I’m trying to do is make you understand that your fears are natural. I think Mr. McLain will make you a fine husband and I’m spiteful enough to like the idea that you’re not only marrying before Anabel, but marrying so well. That will put the little cat’s nose out of joint for some time to come.”

  “I can’t marry just to spite Anabel,” Eleanor protested with a laugh.

  “No, but you might as well enjoy it.” Letty’s grin faded, her expression becoming more serious. “Has your aunt talked to you about your marital duties?”

  Eleanor flushed and dropped her eyes to her lap. Not even with Letty could she be comfortable discussing such a personal topic.

  “She said that there would be ‘things’ my husband would want to do, and that I would have to learn to endure them and to close my eyes and pray that they’d soon be over,” she admitted in a whisper. Remembering Aunt Dorinda’s solemn expression, she felt a shiver of dread go up her spine.

  “What a lackwit,” Letty snapped. “More likely, in this household, it’s your uncle who’s had to learn to endure,” she muttered, half to herself. But Eleanor heard and was surprised to find herself giggling at the thought of her uncle being led, all unwilling, to his marriage bed.

  “That’s better.” Letty took Eleanor’s hands and drew her up off the hard little stool. “Come sit with me on the bed and I’ll tell you what it’s really like between a man and a woman.”

  Eleanor followed her, torn between curiosity and dread. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know what happened between a man and wife, not when she was halfway to believing that she couldn’t possibly go through with the marriage.

  Eleanor stared at the gold band on her finger. It looked new and shiny and felt strangely heavy. She twisted it around her finger as if seeking a more comfortable position for it.

  “Is it too big?” Luke’s husky question made her jump, her head jerking toward him.

  “Too big?”

  “The ring.” He nodded to the band she was still twisting. “Is it too big?”

  “Oh, no.” She forced herself to stop toying with the ring. “No, it’s fine.”

  “I could have it made smaller,” he offered. He took his eyes off the road and looked at her.

  “No, really. It’s fine. I guess I’m just a little nervous,” she admitted.

  “So am I.” Luke grinned at her look of surprise. “First time I’ve been married.”

  “Me, too.” Eleanor returned his smile, feeling a little of her tension ease. She didn’t believe for a minute that he was nervous, but it was kind of him to pretend. Since he’d returned his gaze to the road, she allowed herself to glance sideways at him.

  My husband. Thinking the words didn’t make them seem real, any more than the wedding ring on her finger or the fact that he was taking her to the home they’d now be sharing. She’d stood in church and repeated her vows, heard him do the same, accepted the congratulations of the guests, changed from her wedding gown with Letty’s help and left her uncle’s house forever and she still couldn’t make herself believe in the reality of what she’d done this day.

  She’d been almost surprised to see Luke waiting for her at the church, so sure had she been that he’d have realized what a terrible mistake he’d made in asking her to marry him. Once she saw that he was there, she’d wished he hadn’t come. Better to be jilted with an impersonal note than to receive the news that he didn’t want her after all with the whole town looking on. But he’d only stood there on the church steps, the sun gleaming on his dark hair, and waited while she climbed those few steps. Then he’d taken her hand from her uncle’s arm and led her into the church where everyone was already waiting.

  And he’d actually married her.

  Several hours later, the thought still amazed her.

  “Won’t be long now,” Luke said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “House is just over that rise.”

  He glanced at Eleanor, and since she was looking in the direction he’d indicated, he let his eyes linger. The sun was almost gone but there was still enough light for him to see the soft curve of her cheek and the tempting fullness of her lower lip. Her mouth had lingered in his thoughts more than he’d liked. He’d had two weeks to think about it, two weeks to remember the softness of her lips under his.

  Considering it had been nothing more than a kiss, it had certainly lingered in his mind. Of course, that really wasn’t surprising, since she was going to be his wife. It was natural that he’d think about kissing her. He just hadn’t expected to feel quite so much anticipation at the thought of doing it again. Not to mention everything that came after.

  The house was nestled in a fold where the deceptively flat prairie suddenly dipped downward. There was a spring that ran clear and cool and had never gone dry during the years the McLains had been there. There were corrals and outbuildings, all the necessary clutter that went with running a ranch.

  Luke left the buggy in the care of one of the hands, introducing him as Joe. In the near dark, all Eleanor could make out was that Joe appeared to be tall and thin. She could only hope that he wouldn’t be offended if she didn’t recognize him the next time they met. Luke unloaded her portmanteau from the buggy and set his free hand under her elbow, guiding her footsteps across the dark ground and up the steps onto the porch.

  Daniel had stayed in town for the night and would be bringing her trunks out the next day. When Luke had first told her of this arrangement, she’d been grateful that she wouldn’t have to deal with a brother-in-law as well as a new husband on her first night as a married woman. But when Luke pushed open the door and stepped inside to light the lamp, Eleanor would have given a great deal to have had half a dozen guests to troop inside with her.

  Before
she could give in to the urge to turn and flee as quickly as her new kid slippers would allow, Luke had the lamp lit, illuminating the front hall. He set the lamp on a table against the wall and turned to look at her, raising his brows when he saw her still hovering on the porch. He started to say something, stopped as if a thought had just struck him and grinned at her.

  “I guess you can tell I haven’t had much practice at this marrying business.” He was coming toward her as he spoke, and before Eleanor could guess his intention, he’d bent and swept her up against his chest. She gasped and threw her arms around his neck, her reticule bumping against his back.

  By the time he’d carried her inside, she’d realized that he was just following tradition by carrying her across the threshold. But the feel of his muscular chest pressed against her breast and the easy strength with which he held her were enough to scatter her wits to the four winds.

  He set her down in the entryway and she reached up to straighten her hat, missing Luke’s wince as the gesture drew his attention to the overdecorated atrocity. He wondered if she was fond of the hat and would be upset if some accident befell it, like perhaps a stray wind sweeping it into a horse trough. He filed the idea away for future consideration.

  He saw her looking around the front hall, her eyes curious, and realized that she was probably anxious to see her new home. He wished suddenly that he’d put a bit more effort into getting the place cleaned up, maybe hired a woman from town to come out and put it in decent shape. He and Daniel had stirred themselves to clear out the worst of the mess, but he was suddenly conscious of the thick layers of dust on every surface, of floors that had seen neither broom nor scrub brush since the departure of the last housekeeper months before.