Katy Madison - Bride by Mail

He picked up his gun and laid it across his lap. “Animals.”

Bears? Olivia nodded slowly and turned to burrow into the bedding. He was her husband and protector. She could relinquish her worries to him.

Underneath her relief at not facing the mysteries of the night, disappointment curled in her stomach. She tried to tell herself Jack just had a duty to protect her and the animals. But she suspected she had been such a disappointment he didn’t want to make her his wife.

Chapter Four

I haven’t traveled since my youth, but I have always dreamed of seeing the Rocky Mountains. I was born in New York. In 1853 my family was moving to Boston when the train had an accident. The engineer missed the signal that the drawbridge was open and the cars fell into the water. My parents did not survive and I never made it to Boston. I would like to know more about your home.

The fire burned low. The temperature dropped. Jack pulled a hide over his legs. In a perfect world, his wife would be nestled beside him keeping him warm, and they’d be farther from the road where Kincaid and his ilk could chance upon them. Predators came in all shapes and sizes. He added a branch to the fire. The pine needles flared.

Olivia’s dread of the intimacies couldn’t be clearer. Since leaving town, she’d been unnaturally quiet. Several times she’d jerked away from him. When Jack had hugged her, she’d kept her arms rigidly at her sides.

When she’d allowed him to touch her, she always stared studiously at his chest rather than angle her chin for a kiss.

The last thing he wanted was a wife who submitted but would make it clear she hated every second of intimacy.

But as the hours after midnight ticked by, Jack’s concerns diminished. His thoughts shifted to the strange creature nestled in his wagon. Why had Olivia married him? She should have married a banker or lawyer. She had yet to study the mountains she’d been eager to see. She certainly didn’t look at him. Instead, she pinned her gaze on her clasped hands in her lap.

The wagon creaked and Jack stared in her direction. He forced himself to look away. The dark copse of trees, the meadow and the road remained empty of threats. The horses bowed their heads, sleeping undoubtedly. If he had made the bed bigger he could have crawled in the wagon with Olivia for a few hours of shut-eye.

As he nestled the chick’s warming rocks in the coals, Olivia shifted again. Jack stood and stretched. Fighting sleepiness, he paced.

Was Olivia restless?

After a few minutes, he rolled out the rocks, rewrapped them and placed them in the crate with the chicks. The chicks piled on top of the stones.

Rustling noises emanated from the wagon. Olivia slowly climbed down. For a second she teetered, then found her balance on a wheel spoke. Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she approached.

Was she seeking out his company? His spine tightened. He swiveled toward her. “Can’t sleep?”

“I should keep watch the rest of the night so you can sleep.” Her answer came out in a puff of white mist. She stretched shaking hands toward the orange coals.

She wouldn’t know the first thing to look for.

“I could wake you if there is anything amiss.” She covered a yawn.

He doubted she’d manage to stay awake. But she was trying. Jack sank down and patted the hide next to him. “Sit.”

She stared at the bit of hide left open for her.

Giving her more room, he scooted to the edge, although she didn’t need it. His patience, already thin from too long without sleep, cracked. He ordered, “Sit. I won’t bite.”

She sat down fast. A good six inches remained between them. Six inches and a grand canyon.

Her teeth chattered. While the night air was cool, it wasn’t desperately cold. But Olivia was like a hothouse flower that had never had to endure the out-of-doors. This land might destroy her; she was such a pale piece of fluff.

He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped a buffalo skin around them. She tightened like a drawn bowstring. He found her glacial hands and slowly rubbed them. “Don’t fight the cold. Breathe deep.”

She shuddered violently and leaned away from him. He pulled her back against him. “Relax, I’m just warming you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Jack winced. He ducked his head against her elaborate coif and sighed. Her repulsion made him feel like a coarse, disgusting reptile. Part of him wanted to peel back the layers of material between them and make her his wife, here under the stars with the cold air against his heated skin. Yet he hated to think what her response might be.

He’d planned on waiting until they returned to the cabin, so she could have the privacy of four walls and the comfort of a bed, but he suspected the wait might be much longer. He’d never felt a strong urge to bed a reluctant woman, not when shared desire was so much better.

Even as cold as Olivia was, she wouldn’t appreciate the warmth generated by an exchange of body heat. She held herself rigid. His coarseness might be too much for her. He wasn’t a dapper popinjay and never would be. If she’d thought by bringing him a fancy shirt and coat she could refine him, she was wrong.

Her soft hair tickled his nose. She smelled of lavender soap. He traced his fingers over the wedding band. She had a lady’s hands, soft, smooth, suited for playing a pianoforte or tatting lace, not hard work. Still he resisted the urge to nuzzle her slender neck. He didn’t want to inflict his attentions on her.

She balled her hand and the ring wobbled on her finger. He prodded it back and forth.

“I can get this resized.”

“I’ll wrap yarn around the inside so it doesn’t fall off.”

Did she not want the ring to fit? He tensed. “I’m sure the jeweler won’t mind.”

“Where you bought it?”

“Where I had the ring fashioned from gold I found in my creek.” Jack wished he could take back the words. If she thought the gold band too simple, she now knew he was solely responsible. He’d put a piece of his home on her finger and had the ring specially made for her.

“Is there more gold in your creek?”

For the first time since he married her, she sounded eager. Cold seeped inside him, jabbing under his breastbone. Jack stopped rubbing her fingers. “I haven’t looked for more.”

If she wanted riches, she shouldn’t have come to the Colorado Territory. Even if a man had money, he couldn’t buy luxuries found in an Eastern city. Or get purchases to his cabin. He’d had a hell of a time hauling in the cookstove purchased from settlers who were giving up.

He hadn’t wanted a woman who expected gifts for the privilege of touching her, but he should have given Olivia a wedding gift. She’d brought a shirt and jacket. His puny purchase of a tea tin seemed pathetic. Even though the ring was gold, he hadn’t bought it, either.

“Are you warmer?” He heard anger in his voice and regretted that the lack of sleep made his emotions raw.

“Yes, of course.” She stood and wrapped the blanket tightly around her. “Thank you.” Her voice was stretched taut.

Jack rubbed his scratchy eyes. He hadn’t meant she had to get off his lap. He hadn’t meant that at all. He stood, too, and he supposed the dark and the tiredness and the disappointment made him say, “Why did you marry me?”

“I had to. The mill closed,” she blurted.

Stunned, he stood still. “The mill closed,” he repeated slowly. For the first time since they’d been married, she really looked at him. The brassy glow of the fire illuminated her wide soulless eyes.

“When?”

“December. The cotton shipments stopped. Because of the war.”

Before she’d written him back after receiving his photograph.