Winnie Griggs (20 page)

She fussily arranged Daisy’s dress, having her hold her flowers just so. Then she stood back, studying them. A grin teased the corners of her mouth. “You are married now. You can stand closer together. And don’t be afraid to hold hands.”

Everett didn’t need to be told twice. Holding his wife’s hand had become one of his favorite pastimes.

“Perfect. Now if you’ll just hold it there for a few minutes... Okay. Now you’d mentioned wanting to get a picture of the two of you with Abigail.”

Daisy nodded. “Yes. A family picture.”

“In that case,” Abigail interjected, “Kip should be in the picture, too.”

Everett frowned. “That animal is not part of the family.”

“Come now,” Reggie said, “posing with an animal will be just like old times for you.”

“What’s this?” Abigail looked from Reggie to Everett.

Before either Reggie or Everett could elaborate, Daisy jumped in. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

With a nod, Abigail stood between the two of them, with Kip right in front of her.

A few minutes later, Reggie straightened. “Beautiful. I’ll deliver them to you as soon as they’re ready.”

Daisy was glad when the reception began to break up. It had been a lovely gathering, but she was ready to return home. Except she was also a little anxious, too. At least Abigail would be there to act as a sort of buffer, to keep things feeling normal and familiar.

But to her surprise, Abigail gave her and Everett farewell hugs.

“You two go on without me,” she said. “I’ve already packed a bag, and I’ll be spending the night at the Harpers’ home with Constance. And Jack has volunteered to keep an eye on Kip for you tonight, with his parents’ permission, so Kip is staying right here. That means you will have the house entirely to yourselves.”

Daisy couldn’t quite make herself look at Everett, who remained maddeningly silent. “That’s very sweet of you, but it’s really not necessary,” she said weakly.

“Of course it is.” Abigail gave her an arch smile. “You two may not have been able to take a honeymoon trip, but as newlyweds you should have some privacy on your first night together.” She made a shooing motion with one hand. “So go along, and I’ll see you at church tomorrow morning.”

Any further protest would raise brows, so Daisy merely nodded. Would Abigail’s absence make this first night easier or more awkward?

And what in the world was Everett thinking?

Chance and his motor carriage were still there, waiting to take them home. Chance stepped forward and doffed his hat as he gave a sweeping bow. “Shall we be on our way?”

Daisy would have rather walked—anything to slow things down a little. But Everett handed her up, and within minutes they were stepping down in front of their home.

Now what?

Chapter Twenty-Two

E
verett took her elbow—there was that spark again—and led her to the door. He opened it, and Daisy preceded him inside.

It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, so it was nowhere near time to retire for the evening. Daisy didn’t know which was worse—waiting for night to fall, or how she was going to feel when it actually
was
time to retire for the evening.

She gave him her best attempt at a smile. “I’m going upstairs to change out of this fine dress and back into my everyday clothes. Then I’ll see about fixing us some supper.”

He released her arm. “Don’t rush the meal on my account. I’m not very hungry at the moment, and there’s some paperwork down here I need to get to.”

Is that how he planned to spend the afternoon of their wedding day? But she merely nodded and headed for the stairs.

Daisy opened the door and stepped into the bedchamber she was supposed to share with Everett now. She’d been in here before, when the new furniture arrived, but somehow it looked and felt different now.

Her belongings, meager as they were, were all here—thanks to Abigail.

Her mother’s Bible lay on the bedside table, and her silver hairbrush, which had also belonged to her mother, was on the dressing table. The dressing screen stood discreetly in what had once been a second bedroom.

The sight of her everyday shoes on the floor right next to Everett’s seemed almost unbearably intimate.

A few minutes later, when she hung her dress in the wardrobe, she studied Everett’s clothes hanging neatly there. His things were so refined, so impeccable. And her clothing, with the exception of this beautiful gown, was sadly lacking in comparison.

It was just one more reminder of how mismatched they were.

To give him credit, however, Everett hadn’t made her feel unworthy, at least, not lately.

She quickly pulled out one of her serviceable homespuns. She was who she was—no point wishing she was someone else. Time for this Cinderella to head back to the kitchen.

* * *

Everett hadn’t watched Daisy as she climbed the stairs earlier, but he’d been very aware of her every movement. He knew this was difficult for her, but she seemed to be holding up well. His wife was a woman of strong character.

His wife—it was really and truly done now. It might not be the marriage he’d planned for himself, but he could already see there was much to like in this arrangement.

As for this sudden awkwardness between them, it was normal for a new bride to be nervous—that had to be all it was. Because surely she knew she had nothing to fear from him. He intended to let her set the tone for the physical part of their relationship. More than likely, she planned to sleep on the chaise tonight. But he was confident that in time she would grow more comfortable with him and the idea of sharing the marriage bed. After all, she had said she’d like to have children.

He determinedly pushed those thoughts away and tried to focus on his paperwork. But later, when she called him up to supper, he realized he’d gotten very little accomplished.

During the meal, Everett tried to engage her in idle conversation, but was only partly successful. Though she responded to his comments, she seemed nervous and her gaze more often than not slid away from his. He’d never seen her so flustered before.

Finally, he decided there was only one thing he could do to settle her nerves. He cleared his throat. “I have some things I need to finish downstairs. Don’t wait up on me.”

Her gaze flew to his and held, her eyes widening in surprise. Was there a hint of disappointment mixed in with the relief? Or was that just wishful thinking?

Whatever the case, it would be a very long evening.

* * *

Once he left, Daisy finished cleaning the kitchen, still unable to recapture that sense of peace she’d had earlier. He’d noticed, she was sure. No doubt that had been responsible for his eagerness to leave the room once the meal was over.

The house felt so empty without Abigail and Kip. Perhaps, when those two boisterous beings returned tomorrow, things would feel more comfortable, more normal again.

Finally, the last dish was dried and put away, the table was wiped down until it practically sparkled, and the floor was swept.

There was nothing left for her to do but retire for the night. And perhaps the quicker she got to it, the better. The thought of preparing for bed with Everett in the room was enough to spur her to action.

Daisy entered the bedchamber and quickly went through her nightly rituals. When she was ready to retire, her gaze shifted from the bed to the chaise and back again. This was it—time to decide where she would sleep tonight.

The need to make this decision had been lurking in the back of her mind all day—which no doubt accounted for the state of her nerves—and she still wasn’t certain what to do.

He was leaving the choice entirely up to her, and she knew he wouldn’t press her. What did she want to do? What did
he
want her to do?

Father above, I don’t know what I should do, or even what I want to do. I would like to be a proper wife to my husband, but I’m not sure if he’d welcome me or think me presumptuous. And am I really ready to take such a step? We’ve only known each other a short time.

But is this a matter of time, or a matter of closeness? Because I
do
feel I know his character.

She turned to the bed, her pulse quickening. But her feet wouldn’t take that first step.

Yes, she knew his character, but she didn’t know his heart.

At the last minute her courage failed her, and she scurried to the chaise and quickly added the pillow and coverlet from the trunk. As she burrowed under the covers, she knew herself to be a coward.

And she suspected she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.

* * *

Everett quietly opened the door, not sure what he would find on the other side. She’d left a lamp lit for him with the wick turned down low.

Her soft breathing told him she was asleep. And that she had chosen the chaise. He felt an unexpected twinge of disappointment. But he didn’t blame her. He really hadn’t shown her any of the tender emotions a sentimental woman like her would expect from the man she married. He wasn’t sure he even had it in him to give it to her. The best he could hope for was that she would grow accustomed to him.

He prepared for bed as quietly as he could, accompanied by the sound of her soft breathing. Something about that sound got under his skin and quickened his pulse. It brought back the memory of the kiss they’d shared at the end of the wedding ceremony—sweetly chaste but firing a hunger for more, bringing out all of his protective, and possessive, instincts.

He’d promised to give her however much time she needed, but how many nights would it take before she was comfortable enough with their marriage to give up the chaise?

Perhaps sharing a few more of those kisses would speed the process.

As he slipped into bed, the sound of her breathing seemed to fill the room, a strangely seductive lullaby.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Daisy woke to find the sun already up. She couldn’t believe she’d slept straight through the night. She bolted upright, but a quick glance at the bed across the room told her she was alone. It was neatly made, with nary a wrinkle visible. Had he even slept in his bed last night?

She made quick work of her morning ablutions, then dressed and stepped out of the bedchamber.

Everett was in the kitchen, stoking the stove.

“I’m sorry I overslept. I’ll have breakfast ready in two shakes.”

“No need to rush. We have lots of time before church service starts.”

Daisy joined him in the kitchen and pulled out the skillet, taking a mental inventory of what was in the pantry.

As she counted eggs and measured flour, Everett moved to the adjoining door and opened it, and the inner door as well. He stood staring into Daisy’s former living quarters for what seemed a very long time. What in the world was he thinking about?

Finally, he moved back toward the kitchen, but left the doors open. Obviously there was no reason to keep them closed now.

“I do believe Abigail was correct,” he said. “We may not be here much longer, but opening up this wall while we
are
here would make sense.”

Daisy’s heart dropped. Was he still so determined to move away from Turnabout? Couldn’t he see what a wonderful life they could build here?

A small furrow appeared on his brow. “Do you have some reservations? If you’d rather not, we don’t have to change a thing.”

“Oh, no, I think it’s a wonderful idea. It would definitely make this place feel more like one home instead of two.”

“But?”

She took a deep breath. “I just hoped you’d changed your mind about moving.”

His jaw tightened. “You knew before we agreed to this marriage that that was my plan.”

“I’m not accusing you of hiding anything. I just hoped you’d come to appreciate what you have here more.”

“Well, that was a false hope.”

She tried to lighten the mood with a change of subject. “I think we should celebrate our first morning as man and wife with a special breakfast. What do you say we add an extra egg to the skillet, and have some griddle cakes and strawberry preserves as well?”

Everett accepted her change of subject without protest. “That sounds good. And while you’re working on that, I’ll fix the coffee.”

Just like a happily married couple.

Too bad it was all an act.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A
s soon as they arrived in the churchyard, Abigail left Constance’s side and hurried over. She gave them both exuberant hugs and arch smiles before rushing inside to join the choir.

As Daisy walked into the church, the same church where yesterday she’d spoken her marriage vows, she had the feeling everyone was looking at her differently today. And she supposed she
was
different. She had a new name, a new status, a new family.

After the service, they again had their midday meal at the Barrs’ home. Before they sat down at the table, though, Reggie led them into the study where the wedding pictures were displayed on a small table.

Daisy stepped forward eagerly and was immediately entranced by what she saw.

The first picture was the one Reggie had taken of her and Everett alone. Daisy couldn’t stop staring at the way Everett looked in the picture, as if he were actually proud to be standing next to her. There was something reassuring and uplifting in the way his hand held hers so possessively. Was she just seeing what she wanted to? Or was it all really there?

She finally tore her gaze from that picture and looked at the other, the one that included Abigail and Kip. What a fine-looking family they made!

Daisy glanced up at Reggie. “These are beautiful. I can’t thank you enough.”

Reggie waved away her thanks. “You’re quite welcome. It was a joy to be able to take these pictures for you.”

Daisy glanced Everett’s way and caught him staring at the pictures, but she couldn’t read his expression. Had he seen the same thing she had?

* * *

That evening, Daisy stood in the kitchen, preparing a light supper. Abigail had disappeared with a vague comment about rearranging some of the volumes in her library. And Everett sat on the sofa, reading through his many newspapers.

She loved this feeling of domesticity, of normalcy, of
family.

She glanced up, then blinked and looked again.

Everett was still reading, but one of his hands was absently rubbing Kip’s neck. Did he even realize he was doing it?

She moved toward him, a soft smile on her lips.

He glanced up with an answering smile. She saw the exact moment when he realized what he was doing. His hand stilled, and his expression closed off.

“No need to stop.” Daisy joined him on the sofa. “You both looked like you were enjoying yourselves.”

“Yes, well—”

“You actually looked like you’d done this before.”

“As it happens, I have.”

That admission caught her by surprise. “You had a dog?”

“Once, a long time ago.”

He seemed unwilling to say more, but she wasn’t ready to let it go. “What kind of dog was it?”

“A hound.” He shifted uncomfortably.

“And he was your pet?”

“Not exactly.” He folded his paper and leaned back. “There was a kennel on the estate where I grew up. Hunting dogs, bred and trained for it. My father was fond of hunting, you see, and insisted everything be kept at the ready for when he wanted to indulge in the sport.”

There was a hardness to his voice when he spoke of his father.

“As a boy, I liked to watch the trainers work with the dogs. I was allowed to do so, on the condition I stayed out of everyone’s way. These were prize hunting dogs, so there was no question of me trying to make a pet out of any of them—that would interfere with their training.”

It seemed now that he’d started talking, he couldn’t stop. She wondered if he was even aware anymore that he was speaking to her.

“When I was nearly seven I noticed one pup, the runt of the litter, who had a bad leg. Something about the pup’s refusal to give up appealed to me, and I took to slipping him scraps of food. I always suspected Wilkes, the man in charge of the kennel, knew about it, but if so, he looked the other way.”

His smile twisted. “I even named the animal. Figuring a runt would need an impressive name to offset his shortcomings, I named him Samson. But I quickly shortened it to Sonny.”

She smiled at that. It somehow made the little boy he’d been more endearing.

“The trainers mostly ignored Sonny, so I was able to play with him occasionally. Sonny always greeted me exuberantly and followed me around as if I was someone special. I was even able to teach him a few tricks.”

He was quiet for a very long time, but Daisy could tell he wasn’t finished with his story.

“One morning,” he finally continued, “I went to the kennel and couldn’t find him. I asked Wilkes where he might be. It seemed my father had arrived the prior evening for an unannounced hunting trip. He’d reviewed the new additions to the kennel, and when he saw Sonny’s limp, he had the animal put down.”

Daisy’s heart twisted painfully, and she reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Oh, Everett, I’m so sorry.”

Everett wore that cynical smile again. “No need to be. It taught me a valuable lesson. Animals are just that—animals. Coddling them serves no useful purpose.”

He stood and gathered up the papers. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll carry these downstairs. There are a few stories I want to summarize for Tuesday’s paper.”

She watched him leave, her heart breaking for him. What a terrible, terrible thing to have happened, especially to a six-year-old. No wonder he wouldn’t unbend when it came to Kip—he was afraid of feeling that same hurt again. Did he even realize why he’d built that wall?

Well, there were cracks in that wall now, and she aimed to make sure she and Kip pushed right through them and tore that wall down.

* * *

After supper, Abigail decided to retire to her room early, to do some reading before going to bed.

Everett watched as Daisy worked on some mending to one of her shirtwaists. That reminded him—he’d have to see that she bought some additional clothing. There was no need for his wife to go around in nearly threadbare garments.

Threadbare was a good word for his own emotions at the moment. Why in the world had he volunteered that story? He had never once spoken of Sonny in all the years since it had happened, had nearly blocked it out of his own mind. Yet she had pulled it from him with no effort at all.

Such loss of control was disconcerting. He had to resist this pull she had on him, or he would lose himself entirely.

And he might as well start now. Because there was a matter that required immediate attention. He cleared his throat. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Daisy looked up, a question in her smile.

“Now that the wedding is behind us,” he explained, “it’s time Abigail went back to Miss Haversham’s school to finish her education. And I’d like for us to present a united front when I speak to her.”

Daisy set her mending aside, giving him her full attention. “Do you really think this is for the best? She enjoys being here so much.”

“Her infatuation with Turnabout and all things Texas will fade in time. But the sooner she returns to Boston, the less painful the break will be.”

“I didn’t mean being here as in Turnabout, I meant being here as in being with you. She loves you, Everett, and she wants to spend time with you.”

“There will be time for that once she completes her education.”

“You’re going to break her heart if you do this.”

He expected these sort of melodramatics from his sister, but not from his wife. “Nonsense.”

“Whether it’s your intention or not, she’ll see this as a rejection.”

“Then we’ll need to make it clear to her that it’s not.”

She gave him a steady look and seemed to be undergoing some kind of internal struggle. Finally, she straightened. “I never told you the full story of the time I spent with my grandmother—mostly because it’s personal. But now I think I should explain it to you.”

He leaned back, intrigued in spite of himself. “I’m listening.”

“I guess I should start with some background.” She fiddled with her collar. “My grandmother—Grandmère Longpre, as she had me call her—was what one would call a
grande dame.
” Daisy made an airy movement with her hand for emphasis. “She was the daughter of a wealthy and socially prominent New Orleans family. Her husband died long before I was born, but before he passed, they had two children together, my mother and my uncle, Phillip. I’m told the family had ambitious plans for my mother’s future. They anticipated securing a marriage for her with the son of another prominent family to add to their already considerable consequence.”

She grimaced. “Unfortunately, at least in Grandmother’s eyes, before they could make it official, my mother fell in love with an itinerant peddler and ran off and married him. Grandmother promptly disowned her.”

Everett was very familiar with being disowned, though in his case, he had never been properly “owned” to start with.

“So years later,” Daisy continued, “when my mother took ill and had to return home, you can see it wasn’t a decision she made easily.” Her expression hardened. “And Grandmother made her pay for what she saw as the humiliation my mother had heaped on her and on the family name.”

Everett guessed that Daisy, even as a very young child, had been made to pay, as well.

“As for me, I was viewed as little more than a mongrel half-breed child. I told you I spent much of my time in the kitchen—that’s because I felt much more welcome there than in my grandmother’s presence.”

He wanted to comfort her but wasn’t quite certain how. He moved to sit beside her on the sofa, and apparently that was enough. She touched his arm and thanked him with her smile. “I know, unlike how my grandmother felt toward me, you truly love Abigail and are trying to do what you think best for her. But, Everett, you need to let her see that. Or you risk having her feel like I did—unloved and unwanted.”

He felt some sympathy for what she’d endured, but surely she could see this was different. “Abigail knows I love her.”

“Perhaps. But she also needs to knows that you love being
with
her and that you care about what makes her happy—not what she can do to make you happy. There is a difference.”

What did she mean by that? “That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” This time
she
touched
his
arm. “Perhaps I’m wrong. But if nothing else, Abigail needs to know, without a doubt, that she doesn’t need to earn your love, because she already has it.”

She stood. “Please think about what I said. And if you can find it in you, pray about it, too. I’m going to bed now. Good night.”

Everett stayed where he was, thinking over what she’d said.

Sending Abigail back to school was the right thing, he was sure of it. But perhaps he did need to sit his sister down and make certain she really understood why he felt that way.

And even though he was certain Abigail knew how deeply he cared for her, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to tell her so.

* * *

Everett knocked softly on their bedroom door. When there was no answer, he quietly opened the door so as not to awaken her. To his surprise, however, Daisy still sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair.

And what glorious hair it was. It was the first time he’d seen her hair unbound, and he definitely liked what he saw—thick, wavy tresses, the color of fresh-planed oak, rippled down to the middle of her back.

He tore his gaze from her mesmerizing hair, and their eyes met in the mirror. He felt an almost physical connection stretch between them.

Slowly, he moved forward, and their gazes never wavered.

He held out his hand for her hairbrush. “Do you mind?” His voice was thick, nearly unrecognizably so.

Her eyes widened, but she silently handed him the brush.

He began to draw it through her tresses, enjoying the soft feel of it, the way it seemed almost a living thing in his hands, playfully reflecting the candlelight, coyly sliding through his fingers. He inhaled the faint rosewater and lavender scent and thought he’d never smelled anything so fragrant.

As he worked, he was aware of her watching him in the mirror, of the increased rhythm of her breathing, of the warmth radiating from her.

This woman, this
lady,
was his wife. She was a gift, not a burden. Why had it taken him so long to see it?

After a time—heartbeats, minutes, hours, he had no idea—she took the brush from him and stood, facing him.

He took her chin in his hands. “You are so lovely,” he whispered. “You are even more beautiful tonight than you were on our wedding day.”

“No one’s ever called me beautiful before,” she whispered.

“And yet you are, strikingly so.”

Her eyes had a luminous quality, but he saw no fear in them. He bent down and very gently kissed her. This kiss was different from the previous one they’d shared. What had started as gentle exploration suddenly turned into something much more. Her arms went around his neck and clung to him. Everett’s own pulse jumped, and he tightened his hold on her.

Everett felt an exhilarating mixture of victory and capitulation. He felt an urgent need to protect her and claim her and cherish her, all at the same time. At this moment, if she’d asked him to walk through fire, he couldn’t have refused her.

He lifted his head, but she gave a little whimper of protest and tugged his head back down. He didn’t need further encouragement.

When they finally separated, he took her hand and led her to his bed. To his joy and relief, she not only went willingly, but wearing a shy smile on her face.