Desperate Lola (The Mail Order Brides of Boot Creek Book 2) Page 6

“Those lips were awfully nice too, if I remember correctly. Plump and soft.”

  A lengthy moment of silence followed this. “I never want to hear you speak about my wife in that manner, Mr. Brittle.”

  “Yes … sure … sorry, sir. I, oh, never mind.”

  “I think that concludes business this morning. You’re to find out who’s been stealing my cattle and report back to me. We’ll decide what to do once we know who’s responsible. He’ll pay dearly for the theft, I can assure you. I’ve ignored the issue long enough, but I refuse to anymore.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It sounded as if the bottom of a chair scraped the wood floor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m getting married this morning.”

  “Congratulations.”

  Laughter filled the air. “I’m probably making the biggest mistake of my life. If I didn’t need an heir, I’d be perfectly happy to live in peace and quiet with my cigars and wine.”

  “And the company of Vanessa Lowell.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve told Ms. Lowell not to expect me for a while. She’ll see me again when Lola’s pregnant.”

  From the sound of it, someone moved towards the door. I hurried for the parlor, fighting tears yet again and reeling from the things I had just heard. It took every ounce of will I possessed to pull myself together. Forcing the tears away, I told them they would be able to come back later—much later, when I was alone and in no danger of embarrassing myself.

  “There you are.”

  I turned to face my husband-to-be. “Good morning.”

  “Are you ready?” He smiled politely; the effect creased the edges of his eyes.

  “Yes, I’m ready.”

  “Are you all right? You look a little peaked.”

  “I’m just fine.”

  “Good.” He held out his arm. “Let’s be off then. I sent word to Pastor Kinsley. He’s expecting us.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Have you recovered from your emotional upset last night?”

  I had, but all those doubts had returned and then some. “Yes,” I lied.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He escorted me to the door, where a carriage waited with a driver. We would travel in style to town. “I hope you found the bedroom to your liking.”

  “I did.”

  “Mrs. Boles says the dog’s rather fond of you.”

  He’s shone me more affection than you have. “Yes, he’s attached to me. He slept in my bed last night, although I had little choice in the matter.”

  This astounded him, as his eyes widened. “Otto was in your bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s enormous. There’s barely enough room. How did you sleep?” He handed me up into the conveyance, and I sat on fine leather.

  “I managed to eek out a few inches.”

  He called to the driver, “We’re ready, Henry.”

  “Yes, Mr. Kelly.”

  There were two riders accompanying us. I stared out the window at the cowboys. “Do you always travel with so many people?”

  “I’ve been robbed before, and an attempt has been made on my life. I need the security.”

  “Why would someone want to harm you? Am I in danger?”

  “You’ll always have a man with you. You’re in good hands.”

  “Why did they try to kill you?”

  “I’m one of the biggest landholders in the territory. That’s put a rather large target on my back.”

  “You never mentioned this in your letters.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you, and there’s no need to be worried. I hire plenty of men to see to my comfort and safety. You will have those things as well, my dear.”

  I stared at him, admiring the cut of his morning coat. He had trimmed his beard, the darkly colored hair held traces of gray. “It sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

  “I have.” He smiled serenely.

  “I’ll be pampered and spoiled. It’s everything a girl could want.” But my husband won’t ever trust me, and he’ll run off to his mistress as soon as I’ve fallen pregnant.

  “You don’t seem happy in the least, Lola.”

  “I … am happy.” I tried to smile, but in the end, I only managed to grimace.

  He laughed, “What’s the matter? You look decidedly unhappy. Is it the conversation from last night? I thought we’d settled things.”

  “I wanted more, Mr. Kelly. I had truly hoped to feel something more.”

  He sat forward, while the carriage jostled from the ruts in the dirt road. I faced him, although I stared at my hands. “Lola?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ve put the train incident behind us. I thought we had. I’m sorry I orchestrated that idiot scheme. I’m sorry you were forced to spend time with the likes of Mr. Brittle.”

  “You needn’t apologize again. I understand why you did what you did.”

  That had been another lie. His actions made no sense to me whatsoever. His behavior exposed a distrustful nature. During the course of this ride to the church, I had to decide if I truly wanted to go through with the marriage. I would be connected to someone I did not know, although I thought I had come to know him through the letters. The truth of the matter was—he was a stranger. He expected nothing more of me other than a wife to take care of his home and a womb to bear his children.

  I suppose I am just like one of his cows.

  “I’d give a thousand dollars to know what you’re thinking.”

  “Why do you care? You need a wife and an heir, and I’m adequate enough.” I had spoken my mind, needing to be as open as possible before the ceremony. I wanted to hide the way I felt, but such things were often impossible. I had always been an emotional girl.

  “Stop the coach, Henry!”

  The carriage ground to a halt. I grasped the edge of the seat before I fell to the floor. “Oh!”

  Mr. Kelly flung open the door, bounding from the conveyance. I watched him from the window, as he strode across a dried out patch of meadow. He paced back and forth, his expression downcast, but thunderous. After five minutes of this, he suddenly turned towards the carriage, stomping towards me angrily. I backed away towards the polished wooden wall, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

  He sat across from me, his expression stony. “Carry on.”

  We had gotten off to the worst sort of beginning. “Are you unwell, sir?”

  “You ask me that?”

  “Well, you seem rather angry.”

  “I seem angry to you?”

  “Why, yes, you do.”

  “I thought we had put what happened yesterday behind us?”

  “I … guess not.”

  “I would say not.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his cold, hard glare resting upon me. “What do you want?”

  “Sir?”

  “What do you want from me, besides protection from a nefarious stepfather?”

  “I had hoped … ” Goodness he was angry, his pupils having constricted to tiny black pinpricks. “I did so want affection.”

  “We are complete strangers, Miss Parsons. Did you really think we’d meet and fall in love instantly? Are you so immature to think something like that would happen?”

  “Maybe if you were a warmer and kinder person, yes.”

  A tiny tick registered in his cheek. “Turn the carriage around, Henry!”

  “Will do,” he called.

  I had said too much. I never should have opened my mouth.

  Chapter 8

  Pulling off my glove, I began to chew my nails, as a wave of nervous energy traveled through me. Along with this feeling, I desperately wanted to cry again, hating that I was so weak. I surmised we would not be married today, because of my candor.

  “I guess that’s it,” I whispered miserably. The jolting of the carriage had turned my belly upside down. “Can we stop? I don’t feel so well.”

  “Are you going to be ill?”

  “Yes, and, if I am, I shall be ill all over that
lovely jacket of yours.”

  “Stop, Henry!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He threw open the door, hastening from the conveyance, while letting down the steps. Holding my arm, he assisted me to the ground. “Thank you.” I hurried towards the side of the road, doubling over a second later and vomiting. This was beyond mortifying, but there was nothing I could do about the predicament I had found myself in. My scheme to come to the Territory of New Mexico had been a disaster. I would find myself on a train back to Virginia within hours, no doubt, as soon as they could locate my trunk.

  “Here.” He handed me a white monogrammed kerchief.

  “Thank you.” I wiped my mouth and then turned to face him. “This was not how I thought today would be. Nothing is as I thought it would be.”

  “I’m sorry I’m a grave disappointment.”

  “And I’m just adequate.”

  He closed his eyes, sighing. “We’ve both spoken rashly.” To my astonishment, he drew me into his arms, and I found myself pressed against his chest. “You’re incredibly annoying. You’re going to be worse than Otto, aren’t you? He’s in my bed quite often too, but I make him sleep on his cushion. He’s always underfoot wanting attention and to be petted.”

  He had just compared me to a dog! I pushed against his chest. “I’m not a dog, Mr. Kelly! I’m a woman! I don’t want to be petted, but I do ask for respect. Despite what you think of me, I’m not a doxy or a saloon girl. Lucky for you, I don’t wish to marry you anymore. I just spared you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”

  Understanding shone in his eyes. “You overheard my conversation.”

  “I did, but it doesn’t matter. This is a disaster.” I turned, walking away from him, and he stood staring after me, unmoved. I sat by myself for some time, not knowing what would happen next.

  He approached eventually, settling in the seat across from me. “Take us home, Henry.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  We moved again, although I could not look at Mr. Kelly. I stared at the floor. Nothing was said for the duration of the ride, and, once we arrived at the ranch, Mrs. Boles came out, a quizzical expression on her face. We had not been gone long enough to have returned married. Henry opened the door, handing me down, while Mr. Kelly followed, his expression bland, yet he had a great deal on his mind from the energy that radiated from him.

  Once inside the house, I hastened up the stairs, not wanting to speak to anyone. In my room, I began to undress, struggling with the tiny buttons on the bodice. When I had at last freed myself of the corset, I collapsed upon the bed in my chemise and drawers, burying my face in a pillow. I had yet to cry, but tears threatened. Not perceiving the door had opened, I sucked in a shocked breath after feeling the mattress move. Turning, I stared at the face of my fiancé. He’d drunk whiskey, because I could smell it on him.

  “What am I going to do?”

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “Do I send you back? Do I court you? Do I try to win you?”

  “Why go through all the trouble? You wanted something easy. You needed a wife to produce an heir, and you thought you’d found one. I’m sorry I’ve been a disappointment. I should know better than to open my mouth. I’m not normally like this. I never once told my mother about Mark. She knows nothing of his true nature. I always kept quiet about that.”

  He moved hair from my forehead. “Do you feel better?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You were sick.”

  “Motion sickness, I suppose.”

  “What am I going to do? If I send you back, you’ll return to an intolerable situation, and I’ll have wasted this past year writing letters.”

  “Are we not friends at all? You seemed so different in your letters. You were warmer, more personable. You’re rather shy and standoffish in real life, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve never done well in social situations, but in business, I am adept.”

  “Is that why you never remarried?”

  “One of the reasons.”

  “What are the others?”

  “Lola,” he sighed. “Let’s not get into all my flaws and idiosyncratic habits. I’ve plenty to go around, but so do you. You’ve yet to learn to master your emotions, and you don’t have a clue about tact.”

  “That’s true. Neither of us is perfect.”

  “Far from it.”

  For the first time that day, I wanted to smile. “I don’t know what to do.”

  He scratched the side of his face. “Let’s try again to marry.”

  “Then we shouldn’t talk at all on the ride there.” I giggled at that thought.

  “Perhaps, that’s where we’ve gone wrong. Maybe conversation isn’t the solution to our problems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A puzzling light flared in his eyes. “You’ve chastised me for my behavior, and you’re right on a few key points. I really wasn’t expecting such a beauty. You’ve caught me off-guard completely. If you had been more homely-looking, then, perhaps, I wouldn’t have this struggle.”

  “You’ve lost me completely.”

  “You confused me completely.”

  I stared at him blankly.

  He leaned in, his gaze lingering on my mouth. “Let’s try this, and, perhaps, it’ll all make sense then.”

  The aroma of whiskey lingered around his mouth, while he drew even closer, until I glimpsed the flecks of brown in his eyes. He was going to kiss me! I gasped in anticipation, wondering if the experience would be enjoyable. Our lips met, while he softly pressed himself to me. The kisses were easy, feather light, and nonthreatening. It wasn’t until I wrapped my arms around his neck, groaning into his mouth, that he devoured me, his tongue gaining entrance, silky and smooth. Every nerve ending in my body suddenly sprang to life, tingling with pleasure.

  He pulled away at once. “Well, that was … a surprise.”

  “What?” I threaded fingers through his hair, wanting him to kiss me again. Not waiting for an answer, I greedily attacked his mouth. He responded in kind, holding me closely, his arms going around my back, while our tongues collided. The slinky wet feel was delicious—intoxicating.

  “That’s enough, Lola,” he murmured gruffly, letting me go.

  Chagrined, I bit my lower lip, wondering why he had stopped. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, but I need you to get dressed.”

  “Why?” It was rather scandalous to be thusly clothed in his presence, because we were not married yet. “No one has to know, if we have another kiss. We’ve done nothing but argue since we met. I’d rather kiss than argue.” Kissing him had been vastly enjoyable, far better than when Mr. Brittle had forced himself on me.

  His smile creased the edges of his eyes. “Then you had better put that outfit back on. I’m taking you to the church, where we’ll be married.”

  I flung my arms around him. “We will?” Rubbing his cheek with my own, I felt the warmth of his skin.

  “Yes, Lola. I want to kiss you again as well, but let’s make if official first, shall we?”

  “All right.”

  He drew away, holding out a hand. “Peace?”

  “I suppose, for now.”

  His brows furrowed. “For now?” Humor danced in his eyes.

  “I’m still rather sore about some of the things I heard.”

  “We can discuss it later.”

  “I do want to have children, but you make it sound like I’m some sort of breeding cow.”

  He placed a finger on my lip. “Shush. If you start talking, we’ll end up arguing again.”

  I bit his finger gently, his eyes widening. Giggling, I said, “For some reason, I feel compelled to tell you exactly what I’m thinking. That’s not good, is it?”

  “Not good at all.”

  “If I can’t speak freely with my husband, then who shall I confide in?”

  He touched my hair, gazing at my face. “All right. Say what you wish, but save it until after the cer
emony.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Get dressed. I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

  I felt my hair realizing most of it had come loose. “I need Mrs. Boles. Can you send her up?”

  “Certainly.”

  The appearance of his grin transformed his face. In good-humor, he looked far younger than his age. I waited for him to leave, but he remained where he was, staring at me. I wondered what it was he thought, but he broke the spell by turning for the door then, leaving me to make myself presentable. After Mrs. Boles refastened the pins, I joined Mr. Kelly in the entranceway, where he held out his hand.

  “Shall we try this again?”

  “Yes.”

  He led me to the front steps, where the carriage waited. Henry had opened the door. “We’ve had the practice run. Things should go smoother now, don’t you think?”

  What a difference an hour made. “Yes.” I stepped into the conveyance, and, to my surprise, he sat next to me, his arm going around my shoulder.

  “Drive on, Henry!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I gazed at Mr. Kelly, feeling something akin to crickets jumping in my belly. My hand remained on his chest, feeling the heat of him through several layers of clothing. I scarcely looked out the window, the only view of interest being his face. Whatever cologne he wore teased me with hints of citrus and sandalwood. It was the same aroma that lingered around my face, as I had not washed after kissing him. It was like a brand of sorts, reminding me of the far too brief moments in his embrace.

  “We’re nearly there.”

  My arm slid around his neck. “So soon?”

  He patted my back. “Yes, my dear.” Pushing me away gently, he pulled out a watch that hung on a thick, gold chain. “We’re considerably late. I hope Pastor Kinsley’s still about.”

  I could only stare at him, marveling at how different he seemed now.

  His arm tightened around my back. “I want to be deserving of that look.”

  “What look?”

  “Trust and love.”

  Is that how I appeared? My emotions had altered so drastically, from outrage to despair to hope and affection. “Isn’t this better than anger?”

  “Yes. Your words bothered me.”

  “Which ones?” I giggled.

  “How I was not kind or warm. I didn’t realize I was so severe.”