Saturday's Child Page 9

  "Hello, Mr. Sterling." Her eyes seemed to soften a bit but she didn't move back from the door.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "I took no permanent harm. Thanks to you." Did she add the last grudgingly?

  "I told you before that you owed me no thanks."

  "I'll not argue it with you." Katie shrugged. She turned her head and the light fell more fully on her face, revealing the dark bruises that covered most of one cheek. Quentin's fingers clenched over his hat, creasing the fine felt. The sight of the bruise made him wish he'd taken time to knock out all of Joseph's teeth.

  "May I come in?"

  She hesitated a moment before stepping back to allow him to enter the room. "Colin isn't here."

  "I promise to behave with the utmost propriety."

  "I know you will." This time he was almost sure she smiled. "May I take your things?"

  His hat and cane disposed of, Quentin was suddenly at a loss as to what to say. Looking at Katie, all his indecision faded. She'd make a fine wife, strong, hard working, the sort of a woman to stand beside a man. It wouldn't be a love match but then, after Alice's death, there could certainly be no question of that.

  Katie seemed a sensible sort but women could be notional. If she wanted flowery speeches, he couldn't give them to her. And of course, there was always the possibility that there was already a man in her life. It was the first time the thought had occurred to him and it was surprisingly unwelcome. He frowned.

  Looking at him, Katie wondered what had caused him to look so fierce all of a sudden. It had been quite a surprise to find him standing in the hallway. She'd not expected to see him again. Not after Mrs. Ferriweather had dismissed her because of complaints his mother had made regarding her moral character.

  Oh, Mrs. Ferriweather had been apologetic. She hadn't come right out and said so, but Katie had the feeling that she knew the real truth. But as she'd pointed out, Mrs. Sterling was a wealthy woman and that wealth gave her a certain amount of power. If she stopped patronizing an establishment, many of her friends would follow suit and Mrs. Ferriweather couldn't afford to lose the business.

  Katie understood, but it didn't make her any less angry. She was the one who'd been attacked and nearly violated. Yet she was the one being treated as if she'd committed a crime. It wasn't fair. But if she'd learned one thing in her twenty years, it was that life was seldom fair.

  "May I offer you some tea?" she suggested at last when Quentin showed no sign of speaking.

  "No, thank you," he refused, guessing rightly that tea was a luxury likely to be in short supply.

  "Would you like to sit?" He seemed so large, looming in the middle of the room. It was a relief when he nodded. He waited until she'd settled herself in a straight-backed chair before taking the remaining seat.

  Looking at Katie, he was struck again by the restful air that seemed to drift about her. She sat there now, politely waiting for him to speak, her hands together in her lap. The gown she was wearing was not in the latest fashion, but it was of good quality. The pale green fabric set off the color of her hair so that it seemed to glow with a rich, inner light. There was only the lightest touch of lace at the throat and wrists, just enough to soften the austerity of the simple cut.

  "Katie, would you like to see Wyoming?" He heard the question as if it were being asked by someone else.

  "I beg your pardon?" She blinked, understandably confused by the seeming irrelevance of his question.

  "I've a ranch there," he told her, as if she'd not already known as much. "There's a house. It's not much. Small, rather untidy but there's a pump in the kitchen. Another room could be added, to give us more room.

  "The house needs work—curtains, rugs, that sort of thing. I'm afraid I've lived alone too long. A woman's touch would add warmth.

  "The land is hard but beautiful. There's snow in winter, sometimes for weeks on end. But in the summer, the grass stretches for miles. There's a small garden, not much but it could be made bigger. The facilities are a little primitive but I could install a water closet this summer."

  He stopped, wondering what else he should say. It had suddenly become very important that she come with him. He didn't know why; wasn't even sure he wanted to examine the reasons too closely. He just knew that he didn't want to go back without taking her with him.

  She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face uncertainly.

  "Are you looking to hire a housekeeper, Mr. Sterling? For I'd have to be honest and tell you that I think you could do better."

  Quentin opened his mouth, shut it again and stared at her. He'd thought he'd made it so clear. Drawing a deep breath, he stood up, thrusting his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers.

  "Actually, I was asking you to be my wife."

  Chapter 6

  In the silence that followed his words, Quentin could hear each separate beat of his heart. Outside, the sharp curse of a driver trying to maneuver his wagon past a carriage broke the stillness, but it didn't seem real.

  From the look on Katie's face, he could tell she was as stunned as if he'd suddenly sprouted horns. She'd little enough color to start with but that small amount crept away, leaving her skin the color of fine parchment. Freckles stood out across the bridge of her nose. She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock.

  "Did you say—" She broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

  "I want you to marry me."

  She opened her mouth and closed it again, her eyes dropping to where her hands lay in her lap. Smoothing her palm over the soft fabric of her skirt, she was hardly surprised to see that her fingers where shaking.

  "Why?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Why would you want to marry me?"

  Quentin sat down again, leaning forward. Now that he'd made up his mind that he wanted her for his wife, he was going to do everything he could to persuade her to his thinking.

  "When I came home, it was not only for my sister's wedding. I'm nearly four-and-thirty—time enough for a man to be settling down. When I came home, I had it in mind to find a wife."

  "Why me? Surely there are any number of girls who'd be happy to be your wife. More suitable choices."

  "I think you are suitable."

  "Your family is not likely to agree," she commented dryly.

  "It's not my family who'd be marrying. Katie, I need a woman who isn't afraid of hard work. The life I'm offering is not easy, but itncan be a good and rewarding one."

  Katie smoothed her skirt again, studying the movement as if she could read an answer there. She'd thought that the events of the past few days had left her numb, but when she'd seen Quentin outside the door, she'd known that wasn't quite true. Just the sight of him had been enough to start her pulse beating quicker.

  It didn't matter how often she told herself she was being a fool to think of a man so far above her reach, he'd haunted her thoughts. If she was honest with herself, he already held a piece of her heart. If she married him, she didn't doubt that he'd soon hold it all. But to love someone who didn't love her...

  "You don't speak of love," she said quietly, looking up.

  "No, I don't." Quentin met her eyes squarely. "I'll not lie to you. I know women set great store by marrying for love. But it's my feeling that a marriage can be just as solid if it's based on mutual respect and friendship. And I think we've developed a bit of both, haven't we?"

  Katie nodded, her eyes shifting back to her own hands. She wouldn't have called her feelings for him friendship but it was all she was likely to have. Could she marry him, knowing that he might never feel anything more for her than respect and friendship?

  "I still don't understand why you're marrying at all," she murmured.

  "It's not hard to understand. I need a wife. I've had the ranch nearly three years. I've built a strong foundation—cattle, horses and most of the feed to support them. But it's a lonely life. A man begins to crave someone to talk to, someone to share the successes and the failures. I'm building somet
hing lasting, Katie, something worth handing on to a son."

  "Then it's a real marriage you have in mind," she said half questioningly, the color rising in her cheeks.

  "Yes. But I wouldn't rush you, Katie. I have to go back soon. Spring is a busy time and I can't be away from the ranch. There's no time for courting before I leave. But if you married me now, there's no one to say we couldn't do the courting after the marriage. I'd give you time to get to know me, Katie. I'm a patient man, not a boy who needs to rush things."

  He stared at her downbent head, wishing he knew what she was thinking. It was suddenly very important that she say yes. He wanted to take her home with him more than he'd have thought possible just a short time ago.

  "Does the thought of a real marriage between us frighten you?" he asked gently.

  She shook her head without looking up, her eyes on the restless movements of her hands. "I'm not a child."

  "Katie, what happened—what almost happened with my cousin—" He stopped, seeing her tense, her fingers suddenly clenching on a fold of her skirt. "That has nothing to do with what happens between a man and a woman who care about each other," he said at last, trying to choose his words carefully. "I'd never hurt you like that. In fact, for some women, it can be pleasurable."

  He stopped again, feeling uncomfortable. This was not the sort of subject a man should be discussing with a woman, not even the woman he'd just asked to marry him—especially not her.

  He cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, I wouldn't pressure you into anything," he mumbled.

  "Thank you for that." She lifted her head, meeting his eyes directly, though her color was high. "What of your family? They're not likely to be pleased if you marry a seamstress."

  "They'll come around."

  "You've more optimism than sense, if you don't mind my saying so," she commented.

  "Perhaps. Is their reaction so important to you?"

  "Not to me. But I know how it feels to lose a family. I'd not like to be the instrument that caused you to lose yours."

  "You won't be. We aren't close. It will be their choice, and theirs alone, if they can't accept our marriage."

  "That's easy to say now, but will you still feel that way in a year or two?"

  "Let me worry about my family." Quentin reached out, catching her restless hands in his. "Katie, we could have a good life together. It's not an easy land, but it is a beautiful one. I'm offering you a home of your own, a place to put down roots that can go deep into the earth."

  She caught her breath. How had he known? How had he sensed her deepest need and spoken of it? A home. A place to call her own, a place to build something permanent and lasting. No more moving on. The wail of a train would be nothing more than another sound in the night. It wouldn't have to mean losing everything she'd come to treasure.

  She stared at their linked hands. He didn't love her, and she had to accept that he might never love her. But he'd be a good husband, kind and true. And if she bore him strong sons— Well, wasn't there a kind of love that could come out of that?

  And if she didn't take this chance, what did she have? She had no job, no reference to take to another employer. She'd be nothing but a burden on her brother, though she knew Colin would never think it.

  "Yes." The word was hardly a whisper but she felt Quentin's hands tighten over hers. She lifted her head to look at him. "Yes, I'll marry you."

  ❧

  The only sound was the rhythmic rumble of the train's wheels on the steel track below. Inside the car, no one seemed to have much to say. There was an old man seated near the end of the car, head nodding as he dozed the miles of the journey away.

  A few seats away was a young woman who had the look of a teacher about her. From the crown of her fiercely plain hat to the soles of her neatly laced black shoes, everything about her bespoke discipline. Quentin found himself pitying her unknown students.

  Aside from the old man and the woman, the car was empty. Except, of course, for their own silent party. Katie sat beside him, staring out the window at the endless miles of prairie that lay beyond. Since boarding the train in Oakland the day before, he didn't think she'd spoken more than fifteen words.

  She'd wished him a polite good-night before retiring to the sleeping compartment he'd procured for her. There'd been no mistaking her relief when she realized that he didn't mean to share it with her. Not that he could blame her. After all, he was little more than a stranger to her. She'd spoken an equally polite good-morning upon meeting him in the dining car the next morning. Aside from that, there'd been almost no communication between them.

  He supposed he shouldn't be surprised if she was feeling a trifle bewildered by the speed with which her life had changed. Perhaps it would have been wiser to stay in San Francisco a few more days, even a week or two. It would have given everyone a chance to grow accustomed to the new arrangements.

  Instead, he'd rushed the marriage through, calling on an old friend of his grandfather's to waive the more time-consuming formalities. Two days after Katie had agreed to marry him, they were standing in front of Judge Reeves, being united in marriage.

  The only witnesses had been Katie's brother, who had made his disapproval of the match quite clear; Edith, who'd served as Katie's only female support; and at the last minute, Quentin's grandfather had shown up, determined to give his support to a marriage that had prostrated Quentin's mother and caused his father to deny that he had a son.

  It was, quite possibly, the oddest wedding party San Francisco had seen in a very long time. Tobias MacNamara, one of the wealthiest men in the city; a housemaid; the bride's brother, a dealer in a Barbary Coast Saloon of extremely dubious respectability; the bride herself, a seamstress of Irish decent and a completely unknown background and the groom, scion of one of the most respected families in the state.

  Well, the city had always prided itself on the diversity of its culture, a true melting pot. Their wedding certainly proved the truth of that.

  Quentin was startled out of his thoughts when he felt a slight nudge to his shoulder. Glancing down, he saw that the motion of the train had lulled Katie to sleep and her head now rested against his sleeve. Moving carefully, he lifted his arm, slipping it around her shoulders and easing her into a more comfortable position.

  She settled against him as if she'd slept that way a hundred times. Looking down at her, he felt an odd little tug of his heart. She was too pale. The freckles that were dusted across the bridge of her nose stood out, as did the bruise that still marred her cheek. His hand came up, his finger tracing gently across the bruise.

  The foolish extravagance of a hat that she'd worn for the wedding had slipped down over her forehead, making her look rather like a child playing dress-up. He hadn't realized how small she was until she stood beside him at the altar. The air of calm control with which she surrounded herself had somehow made her seem taller—and older. He reached up to brush back a curling feather that was tickling his nose, frowning slightly.

  He hadn't realized until he'd heard Katie answering Judge Reeve's questions that she'd barely reached her twentieth birthday. Not all that young, he supposed. After all, many girls married much younger than that.

  She shifted again, her hand falling against his thigh. Quentin sucked in his breath, reaching to move her hand. If he just kept reminding himself of how young she was and of the fact that they hardly knew each other, it might make it easier to forget that they were married.

  It had seemed so simple when he was trying to persuade her to marry him. He was a gentleman and certainly in full control of his appetites. Still, there was something very seductive in knowing that the girl who now slept so peacefully on his shoulder was his wife. He found himself wanting to pull the pins from her hair and see it fall about her shoulders.

  The long mournful wail of the whistle woke Katie from her nap. She stirred, blinking sleepily. It took her a moment to realize that her head was resting cozily against her husband's shoulder. She jerked upright so
quickly that her hat tilted down over her forehead.

  "I beg your pardon," she mumbled, her cheeks flushed as she straightened her hat.

  "I'd guess you needed the rest," Quentin said lightly, hoping to ease some of the tension that seemed to have sprung up between them with the exchanging of vows. "It's been a rather hectic few days."

  "Yes, it has. Is that Laramie we're approaching?"

  "Yes." With a sigh, Quentin leaned back. Perhaps it was unreasonable of him to think that they could retain the small friendship he'd thought they'd developed. Maybe friendship wasn't a sound basis for a marriage.

  Compared to San Francisco, Laramie was little more than a country village. Compared to the towns they'd been passing through, it was a metropolis. Katie waited at the station while Quentin went to arrange for a wagon. There were supplies to be picked up in town before they started the journey to the ranch.

  Katie seated herself on a bench, arranging her skirts about her feet. She fingered the wedding band on her finger, her eyes unconsciously searching for Quentin's tall figure. Her husband. It didn't matter how often she repeated the phrase, she couldn't make it seem real.

  A chill breeze swept around the corner of the building and she drew her cloak closer about her shoulders. It was easy to see that the garments she had were not going to be warm enough for her new home. She'd have to see about procuring the fabric for a warmer cloak, possibly some heavier dresses.

  She had a few dollars that Colin had pressed in her hand, waving away her protests. He'd not have his sister go to her new home completely penniless.

  Knowing that it rubbed at his pride that he couldn't give her more, Katie had taken the money. Now it might come in handy to purchase some yard goods.

  Her new home. She rolled the phrase over in her mind, liking the sound of it. A real home. A place where she could plant roses beside the door and stay to watch them grow. She'd have much to learn. Living out of a trunk didn't give one the opportunity to learn more than the most basic of housekeeping skills. She could only hope that Quentin would have patience. It would be worth any amount of hard work to have a place to put down roots at last.