Rocky Mountain Ride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 7) (15 page)

“Thank you, Señora.” The woman passed a hand over her face. “I cannot sleep at night. So I lie awake and worry. What if something is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Francesca said with pure confidence. “The child will come at just the right time. There are many things I can do to coax a baby out. But you must rest, Camila. Stay calm and when it is time, your body will open like a beautiful flower.”

Francesca wrapped the woman’s hands around the glazed bowl. “Drink this, and relax.” Still ignoring Sebastian, his wife moved around the expecting mother and started to rub her shoulders.

After a moment, Sebastian stepped outside and lit his pipe to wait. He didn’t feel like it was his place to go inside.

By the time his wife came out of the house, he’d cooled down. She shut the door carefully behind her.

“Everything all right?” Sebastian put out his cigarette.

Francesca nodded. “She is sleeping.”

He offered his arm and escorted her, feeling ten feet tall. Here was an amazing, competent woman, and she had chosen him.

She stopped to speak to the woman’s son. “Pepito, your mother is very tired, but she will sleep and feel much better. You are her guardian, now. Will you make sure no one wakes her?”

“Si, señora.”

“Very good.” Francesca reached into her satchel, and drew out a small, homemade candy wrapped in paper. “Here is your reward for being a brave boy, and looking after your mother.”

She straightened and started into town. After a few steps, Sebastian caught up wrapped a proud arm around her shoulders.

“Well done, darling.”

She arched a brow and gave him haughty look as if to say “I know”, but her mouth held a little smile.

“Come.” She pulled him off the beaten road and took him away from the houses, on a long, meandering path between field and forest.

They walked mostly in silence. Sebastian enjoyed the sights, the blue asters on the edge of the hayfields, the birds flitting across their paths. He’d never felt so at peace.

All of a sudden, he had a flash of the future: him in a straw hat and humbler clothes, his wife in her striped skirt, a little grey in her hair. They’d walk like this, holding hands, headed to their home or to one of Francesca’s patients.

He’d never imagined a picture like that could make him so content.

“What are you thinking of, Englishman?”

“You.”

“Are you regretting our marriage?”

“Quite the opposite in fact.” He put his hand over hers on his arm, noting with disappointment that the hacienda was in view. “I am very happy.”

“It will be a simple life compared to your fancy travels. I wonder if you will become bored.”

“With you, I could never be bored. I was surprised to return to the house and find you gone.”

“I go when my mothers need me.”

“So I gathered. But you did not take a bodyguard.”

She shrugged. “I was perfectly safe.”

“This time.” At the house, Ana was chasing the white goat around the yard, waving a dishrag. They weren’t close enough to hear her. “I had to go to the butchers to get directions. I ran into your former brother in law.”

“Diego?”

“Yes, and I put my foot in it. He knows we married.”

She cursed.

“I know. I had hoped we would have tonight, at least, to enjoy ourselves.” Even though they were almost at the house, in plain view of everyone, he couldn’t resist slowing and stroking away some flyaway hairs at her temple. “Do you think he’ll come by?”

“I do not know. He used to be close with us, as a brother and a friend, but he went away for a few years, and when he came back that all changed. I feel I no longer know him.”

“Whatever happens, I’ll be here.” He took her arm again, a thrill going through him as she leaned on him.

“We should go help Ana with her goat.”

He sighed. “I suppose we’ll have some time alone tonight.”

She cocked her head at him. “Why? Do you have big plans?”

“Oh, I intend for us to have a fine time. Or at least I will. You will, perhaps, after your punishment.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Punishment?”

“I told you to take a guard with you when you went out.”

“I thought you meant at night.”

“Night or day. Until I know it’s safe.”

“I am protected. No one would harm me.”

They entered the garden, and he looked pointedly at the boards over the windows of her living room.

“You said the shooting was only to scare me.”

“And next time, they may intend much, much worse. I’m not arguing about this, Francesca. When you need to go out, you will take a bodyguard. Promise me.”

She huffed. “I will not.”

He glanced over at Ana, who was bending over a garden bed, plucking herbs. He lowered his voice. “Then whenever I catch you at it I’ll turn you over my knee and you won’t sit for a week. I mean it, Francesca. You’re too important to risk your life.”

She cursed under her breath. “Cyro would never restrict me so.”

He crossed his arms with the look of a man who was settling in to wait out the storm.

“Sebastian, I must come and go as I please. I must to do my work. There are herbs to be gathered, unguents to be made by the light of the moon. I do not want some clumsy fool plodding along behind me. You cannot keep me here.”

“No, but I can blister your bottom when you return.”

“You would not dare!” she hissed.

He bent down to eye level. “Try me, little wife.”

She tore away, still muttering under her breath to disappear into the kitchen.

Sebastian decided it was time for another walk. He’d inspect the fields, perhaps stop to cut some more switches to make a birch. His new bride wasn’t going to make it easy on him. And he was just fine with that.

*

Cage caught up to him late afternoon. “Everything all right?”

“Right as rain.”

The guide eyed the bundle of twigs tied to the back of Sebastian’s saddle, but didn’t comment.

“How are the fences?” Sebastian asked.

“Fine. Juan and I spent the afternoon hiring a few more men to patrol regularly. They seem a good sort. I’ll watch them for a few more days and then send the shirkers packing.”

“Jolly good. Does this mean you’re staying for a few more days?”

“May as well stick around. Keep an eye on things.”

“Make sure I’m properly ensconced in matrimonial bliss?”

“Something like that.”

They entered the yard and Ana glanced up from her weeding, saw Cage, and looked away, flushing. Sebastian noticed that Cage feigned indifference, while stealing sidelong glances of the buxom woman.

“Milord,” Ana called to Sebastian. “The señora wants to see you. She’s in the apothecary.”

“Thank you, Ana.”

With a final glance at Cage, she disappeared into the kitchen. Sebastian raised a brow at Cage, who cleared his throat loudly.

“Here, uh, let me take your horse,” the silver-haired man said. “Wouldn’t want you to keep the little lady waiting.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sebastian said, untying the twigs. “A little patience might be good for her.”

“My advice, son, do everything you can to start this marriage off on the right foot. You’re going to have your hands full enough as it is.”

*

Sebastian took his sweet time putting together the birch. He left it on the bed, with plans to use it when he and Francesca turned in for the night. As much as he enjoyed playing in the apothecary, he wanted his first time savoring his bride to take place in a cozy, warm bed. The soft mattress would be kinder to her birched backside.

Everything in place, Sebastian strode out to meet his bride, whistling a cheerful tune.

As he approached the apothecary, he frowned at the gaping door.

“Francesca?” he called, but the place was empty.

He cursed, and heard someone’s laughter floating over the field. he caught a glimpse of his wife’s dark form on the edge of the forest, just before she stepped into the woods and disappeared.

“Francesca,” he bellowed, but she was gone. “Bloody hell.” He stalked over the field, his anger returning. What game was she playing? He almost wished he’d brought the birch.

The sun slanted low over the land, spilling like liquid gold into the trees. Sebastian plunged into the forest, picking out an easy trail and hoping his delinquent bride wanted him to catch her.

She needed a spanking. It had been a long day, and he was ready for the honeymoon.

It didn’t help that he’d been nursing a hard on for days. A nightly session with a handkerchief wasn’t enough to spend his ardor. A glimpse of the fine blade of her face or her dark, dancing eyes and he ached for her again.

Just when he thought he’d lost her, the path widened into a small clearing, and there she stood, like a lovely wood nymph, waiting for him. She’d laid her cloak on the ground and wore only a white shift. When she lifted her arms to him in invitation, he could see her naked form. There were candles all around; their soft glow lending their magic to the air.

Sebastian slowed, pausing at the threshold of the grove. She’d gone ahead and prepared this place for him, lighting the candles and dressing in virginal robes. In comparison, he felt dirty and irreverent.

The candles shimmered around the sacred space. This was her temple, and he was her supplicant. It didn’t seem right that he enter as he came.

Unbidden, he stripped off his shirt and boots, and stepped into her sanctuary.

They didn’t speak but there was no need for words. In the twilight, they stood before one another. With her white shift and unbound hair, Francesca looked like a witch, dark and feral, powerful and pure.

Sebastian reached and touched her hair and the spell was broken.

He grasped her hips, her arms went around his neck and their mouths met. They sank to the blanket together and quickly lost the rest of their clothes, their lips still fastened together.

*

Afterward, they lay together, two melded lines, limbs flung together, each body a half circle become whole.

“What brought you to America?” Francesca’s fingers stroked down his bare chest as his played in her hair.

“It’s not a happy tale.”

She tapped his collarbone. “Not everything is happiness. Tell me.”

“There was a girl.”

“A lady?” Francesca prompted when he paused too long.

“A commoner. Father did not approve.”

“Tell me about her.”

He sighed. “She was at the time, the love of my life. I would’ve married her. I would’ve raised our child.”

Francesca blinked. “You have a child?”

“No. She told me she was carrying. I agreed to support her, and I meant it. I would’ve made a life with her. My father found out. Went behind my back. Gave her some money told her to ‘take care if it.’

I was traveling, and by the time I returned she’d gone to London. I spent a few weeks tracking her down. And learned she’d died in an alleyway, outside of the residence of a so-called doctor.”

Francesca sucked in a breath.

“Later, her mother told me that she thought I didn’t want the child anymore. My father had lied to her. I confronted him, and he told me I should learn my lesson. Be a man. And that is how I came to America.” He took her hand and kissed it. He didn’t know how to tell her how sorry he was.

“A sad tale,” she said. “Thank you for sharing it.”

“Now you know the type of man I am.” He kept his voice light, but watched her face closely.

“You blame yourself for her death?”

“How could I not? I was traveling, Francesca. Not on business. On pleasure, to visit friends when I should’ve been at her side. I knew what my father was like. I left her exposed. Who knows how many women he’d given money to, said the same words to.”

“You feel the guilt. You carried her with you, all this way. Her and the babe.”

He met her dark eyes. “Yes.”

She nodded slowly, and rose, padding to a fallen tree where the largest candles sat flickering in the near dark.

“These are my mothers,” she said, waving a hand at the candles as she pulled out a pitcher and a bowl from behind the log. “All the women who have given birth in my and my mother’s care. Some have died. Some have lived. I remember them as long as I must.” She filled the bowl with water. “The largest ones are my own mother, and her mother, and her mother before me. All named Francesca.”

“You really are a fourth?”

“Mmm,” she murmured, returning with her offering to kneel before him. “I tell you the truth, James Sebastian Chivington the third.” Taking a cloth, she dabbed water on his face and chest.

“Is this a baptism?”

“Call it what you like. I am washing you clean.” She finished and sat back on her haunches. “What was the woman’s name?”