The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) Page 15

  The older girl swallowed too, but stood her ground.

  “He didn’t mean nothin’ by it, mister.” She placed a hand behind her, holding the boy’s shoulder bracingly.

  “Is that right?” Isaac grasped his stomach in exaggerated pain. Then dropping his arms to his sides, he seemed to grow larger as his shoulders broadened, his stance widened. “Mary Alice, isn’t it?”

  The girl nodded, but didn’t relax her protective stance a bit.

  “Well, where I come from, an offense like that deserves retribution.” He bent to pick up a willowy pine branch of his own and brandished it with a flourish.

  Seeing Isaac’s teasing grin, the girl broke into a relieved, girlish laugh.

  “Oh, mister, you don’t know what you’ve brung on yourself.” She turned to the other children who had circled up behind her, listening to their interchange with wide, curious eyes. “Who’s with me?” she asked them.

  A roar greeted her words. Looking at them, Becky decided they were gathering courage from each other with each coordinated attack. She watched Isaac with interest. He cavorted about like an eight-year-old boy, yelping at every strike, exacting revenge with answering—though obviously restrained—swats of his pine-needle-tipped stick.

  Seeing Isaac laugh and play with the children, Becky grew very still. All the other loggers and their wives who were standing around melted into the forest perimeter. There was only Isaac and the children. He seemed so totally different here. Young and carefree.

  Her brows lifted slightly.

  And then she wasn’t sure what came over her—some spark of mischief maybe. Picking up a branch—a variety with long, pliable needles—she gave chase along with the children. Catching sight of her, Isaac backed away. His smile widened. His eyes twinkled with mirth.

  “Don’t think you can catch me, young lady.” The uneven chuckle in his voice was infectious, and she found herself giggling uncontrollably, sounding like a much younger version of herself.

  She darted toward him, her branch extended like a sword, ready to swat him if he got close enough. Several of the children linked arms and formed a wall behind Isaac, bringing him up short. He halted, gasping for air and laughing. He was cornered.

  “You’re trapped.” She mocked as she stalked him. Waving her branch menacingly, she skirted his long-armed grasp. With a quick switch of her wrist, she tickled his side with the tip of the long branch.

  He laughed a great, full laugh, which shook his tall frame. Still laughing, he snatched the branch from her and held it aloft above his head, far out of her reach.

  Becky’s breath hitched in her throat.

  There was something about his laugh. It did something to her... Her heart squeezed, and then lightened like a soap bubble floating on the air. She found herself simply smiling at him, bemused.

  She couldn’t help thinking what an honorable, good man he was.

  And he was her husband.

  Was it possible what she was feeling was the beginning of love?

  She made a fist over her stomach and held it there, overcome with the strangeness of it all. After having her heart stuck in a useless place for so long, she wasn’t sure if she could love. She’d worried about it many nights, lying awake, wondering if she was still capable of it. And now—more than anything—she wanted quite desperately to be able to love Isaac. She wanted it so badly it hurt, deep down.

  Scarcely aware of what was going on around her, she registered that the children’s mothers were herding them into a circle around a massive tree stump, one about as big around as a good–sized cabin.

  Isaac’s friend, Dally, called out, “Come on you two. It’s time to heel-and-toe.”

  Isaac looked at Becky as if waiting for her reaction. With a boyish grin, he jerked his head toward the dance area. “Would you care to dance?”

  “They’re dancing on top of a tree stump?” She smiled, delighted.

  “Makes a perfect dance floor, I guess.” He led her over to the base and helped her climb a series of makeshift steps up to the top of the smooth, flat circle.

  “We’re going to dance on a tree stump.” She glanced around in wonder as the other couples formed three sides of a square. She and Isaac made up the forth side.

  Two fiddlers struck up a rousing medley, and an old wizened-looking man in a gray beard perched on a platform raised above the rest of the stump. He looked oddly like a bird with his round, prominent Adam’s apple and spindly legs, encased in slim-fitting denims. A tall gangly-legged bird. A gray-and-blue rooster maybe, Becky thought, tickled by her own fanciful imagination.

  The caller greeted the dancers with a singsong chant, “Bow to yer partners!” Then he started calling out his commands, dizzying in their speed and incomprehensible in their meaning at times, like an auctioneer making his spiel.

  Becky hadn’t ever participated in this particular dance. Little tiny butterflies fluttered in her stomach. What if she took a wrong step? What if she missed her footing and fell right off the edge? It was a good full-length drop to the ground. Then she noticed Isaac was also listening intently to the caller, his brow furrowed in concentration. She scowled at him playfully, and he grinned the same boyish grin that was beginning to turn her insides into mush.

  She also decided, looking at him, that she rather liked his dark hair.

  His warm, wide palm covered her hand, his fingers gripping hers firmly. It may have been more fanciful thinking, but she imagined it was his way of telling her he wasn’t going to let her fall off the side no matter what. They parted and spun, sashaying in a circle along with the other dancers.

  “Swing her round!”

  Isaac met her as they crossed each other’s paths, traveling in opposite directions. He linked arms with her and spun her around. Their eyes met. Becky caught her breath. She’d heard somewhere—church perhaps?—that the eyes were a window to the soul, and she felt very much like she’d glimpsed into Isaac’s soul. She liked what she saw: an honorable man. A strong man. A man who worked hard, but wasn’t afraid to laugh. A man who wouldn’t desert her in times of trouble. And, obviously, a man who’d constantly keep her on her toes.

  It was a quick impression, a flash of understanding and no more, for she had to dance, turn the right way...grab his hand.

  “Promenade!”

  Isaac embraced her loosely then, his arm circling her back, one hand grasping her waist, the other holding her hand. They circled the floor, following the other dancers and laughing helplessly whenever they turned the wrong way. His touch made her heart pound. Each too-brief embrace sent a light bubbly sensation through her heart.

  Maybe, just maybe, she could come to love Isaac Jessup.

  ***

  As Isaac danced, he took pleasure in the feel of Rebecca’s slender back under his palm. Seeing Dally and his wife together earlier had stirred up all sorts of new feelings in him, feelings he couldn’t shake. Maybe a woman could survive in this wild territory. Sneaking a peek at Catherine tending her brood, Isaac was still amazed to see a woman flourishing in the mountains, with children no less. Lots of them.

  But then Catherine seemed the sturdy sort—had probably been brought up out West along with a peck of brothers and sisters. Born to frontier life.

  He glanced down at the top of Rebecca’s head as she whirled away from him. She twirled back, loose strands of her hair curling around her face, and looked up at him with a delighted smile. Everything about her spoke of grace and refinement. Of tea and crumpets and white gloves. Yet she seemed happy enough today dancing with him atop a tree stump in the middle of nowhere.

  All in all, it was almost a perfect day. Well, the best they’d spent in each other’s company at any rate. No sooner had the thought passed through his head than the sky turned black. Clouds rolled across the sky, and the heavens opened up with a crack of thunder. Great soaking drops sent the dancers scurrying for cover in whatever building was closest.

  “Isaac! Over here!” Dally called, beckoning them to fo
llow. He ran off with his family across the clearing.

  Isaac grabbed Rebecca’s hand and chased after Dally, as he and his little clan scrambled in through the front door of one of the larger log cabins. Isaac followed after them, hanging onto Rebecca, his other hand covering her head from the beating rain. As best he could anyway. It had sure come on hard and quick. She ducked her head and ran alongside him. He liked the way she leaned into him, using his body for shelter. As he and Rebecca entered the simple structure, the cluster of wet children parted for them like the Red Sea.

  Mary Alice, who Isaac recognized as the one who’d challenged him in the game, stared at him with unabashed curiosity.

  “Mama, this night ain’t fit for travel.” The girl declared with an impish smile. Her twin sister nudged her, and they dissolved in a fit of giggles.

  “Looks like you two will be staying the night,” Catherine and Dally said in unison. They broke into laughter as their words tumbled over one another.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Isaac couldn’t stay the night here. With Rebecca.

  “Nonsense, my friend. Look.” Dally held the door wide open. A waterfall gushed from the roof overhang onto the ground in a stream of blinding gray.

  Looking at the door, Isaac noticed Rebecca’s attention seemed oddly fixed above the doorframe, where two rifles were mounted, one man-sized and one smaller— a ladies’ rifle decorated with flowers, by the look of it. Must be Catherine’s, he thought, wondering at Rebecca’s interest in it. He didn’t have too much time to think about it though, because a draft blew a sheet of rain indoors, soaking the floor.

  “Dally! Close it,” Catherine urged as she tugged a sopping dress off the littlest girl, who was drenched and sniffling. “That wind is blowing something fierce. It’s getting dark fast, and we may as well get the children in bed. They’ve had a full day.”

  Dally closed the door and sent Isaac a look that said, What did I tell you?

  “You’re staying,” he said firmly, the way any good boss does, expecting to be listened to. It was much the way Isaac would have spoken to one of his senior men.

  “Okay, okay. We’re staying.” Isaac felt rather than heard Rebecca’s swift intake of breath. He squeezed her hand in a light grip, trying to reassure her with that one small touch. “Thank you,” he said to Dally and Catherine.

  “Nothing for it but to make the best of it,” Dally said. “We haven’t much room to spare, as you can see, but our place is always open to friends.” He led them to a small curtained-off alcove in the corner, the floor of which was built into a nest of sorts, with a lumpy-looking mattress and a crumpled wool blanket. “This is our oldest son’s bed. He’s spending the night with the Garretts’ oldest son anyway, so you may as well have his bed. It’ll be close, but that should serve you lovebirds just fine for a night, shouldn’t it?” Dally winked at Isaac and gave him a private little grin.

  Isaac stared at the narrow bed and swallowed.

  “This’ll be just fine, Dally,” he heard himself assuring his friend. Even so, sweat dampened his palms and beaded on his upper lip. Sleep here? With Rebecca? What if she kissed him again and called him Jack, darling in her sleep?

  He didn’t think he could bear another night like that.

  But what could he do?

  “This’ll be just fine,” he repeated and stole a glance at Rebecca’s face.

  With her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, she looked a mite worried about the sleeping arrangements as well, but “Thank you, Dally” was all she said. She turned immediately to help Catherine get her younger children dried off. To Isaac it seemed like she might be trying to distract herself.

  Lucky girl. She had something to do.

  He watched silently as Rebecca soothed the smallest girl by holding her in her arms and rocking her from side to side. The child’s cries quieted, and soon her head fell against Rebecca’s shoulder. She looked up at her with trusting eyes, her eyelids drooping low and her small mouth relaxed in a contented “O,” which struck him as sweet. As soon as little Bess’s eyes shut all the way, Rebecca tucked her into bed—a small mat in the corner—and kissed her forehead.

  “She’ll sleep well tonight,” Catherine whispered with a gentle smile and laid a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. She bent to kiss the now gently snoring child and pulled Rebecca along by the arm. “Come on in our bedroom for a moment and I’ll get you a nice, dry nightgown and wrap.”

  Isaac heard the woman’s words from across the room. He watched as Catherine sent Dally a quick smile, and she and Rebecca disappeared behind a door in the back. He could only imagine what they were doing in there.

  “Well, looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves for a spell.”

  “How do you figure?” Isaac looked around the main room of the cabin, packed with little sleeping bodies curled up on almost every flat surface.

  “What do you mean?” Settling himself into a chair at the long table, Dally looked back at Isaac blankly. “Oh.” He seemed to register Isaac’s confusion and chuckled under his breath. “Having the children sleeping all around is so normal, I forget they’re here sometimes. Don’t worry. Once they’re asleep, they sleep straight on until morning. Even little Bess.”

  “I see.” Isaac eased his frame onto a chair across the table from Dally and stretched out his legs. As they talked and laughed about old times, he made a conscious effort not to look over at the closed door to the bedroom, where he knew Rebecca was getting changed.

  “I’ll get you a nightshirt.” Dally stood as the women rejoined them and, after ducking into the bedroom, returned to hand Isaac a folded white nightshirt. “It may be a trifle short on you, but it should do for the night.” He chuckled. “Come along, wife, let’s get to bed. Goodnight, you two. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight.” Isaac looked after them dumbly as they went to their room and closed the door.

  “Go on and get out of those wet clothes.” Rebecca pointed to the alcove. “I’ll wait here.” She sat at the table and waved him on with a flick of her hand.

  Isaac nodded and stepped into the small space, pulling the curtain closed behind him. He swiftly changed into the nightshirt, feeling like a man wearing child’s clothes. The shirtsleeves fell several inches above his wrists, and the tail didn’t hang nearly low enough. Not low enough to cover his knees anyway. He’d never given much thought to his body before, but the thought of Rebecca seeing him all wrists and knees made him feel foolish and exposed.

  Shaking off his discomfort, he pushed back the curtain and picked his way across the darkened room, being careful not to step on any of the children. Rebecca had turned down the lantern, he noticed with a rush of gratitude. He avoided meeting her eyes as he hung his damp trousers, shirt, and socks over the backs of the kitchen chairs. With any luck, they’d be dry by morning.

  His chore done, he stared at his clothes for a moment longer. He finally turned to the woman sitting in front of him, not three feet away. Her gaze wandered over him, then she looked into his eyes. He could have sworn her brows lifted slightly and the corner of her lips twitched.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Who me?” She had the nerve to giggle, muffling the sound with her hand. She had a merry light in her eyes that he found appealing.

  “What?” he demanded with mock severity and looked down at his ridiculous attire.

  “N—nothing,” she spluttered and giggled again.

  Her girlish-sounding giggles were so infectious, he found himself chuckling along with her, quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping children. They never stirred. The sound of their slow, regular breathing in the lantern’s soft orange glow made the room seem a living thing, warm and homey.

  “Come on then. Let’s get to bed,” he repeated Dally’s words for lack of anything better to say.

  Her giggles stopped abruptly, and her smile wavered. “All right.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Isaac gripped the lantern with one hand and wi
th the other led Rebecca to the alcove, holding her elbow to help her keep her balance as they stepped through the maze of sleeping children. The little alcove had seemed confining when he’d changed into the nightshirt, but now, with Rebecca with him, it wasn’t large enough for the two of them to stand without touching.

  She faced him toe to toe. Gathering the collar of her wrap under her chin, she raised wide eyes to his. She looked sweet—kissable, even—and he found himself almost forgetting about Jack.

  He shook himself.

  How could he forget?

  Frowning, he quickly turned down the wick, casting their little “room” in near total darkness. He set the lantern on the small table wedged into the corner at the foot of the bed. The moon must have broken through the rain clouds, for its soft glow lit the thin curtain. He could just barely make out the outline of Rebecca’s face as she stood before him. He could feel her staring at him.

  He stretched out on the pallet and pulled the covers up. He was too long for the mattress and had to fold himself up to fit. It would surely make for an interesting night. “Come on then.” He silently grumbled to himself about how low and gravelly his voice was. He sounded more angry than anything, when he knew he was simply nervous about their proximity.

  After standing in the dark for a moment longer, she curled up in front of him, her head resting on the crook of his arm, her back pressed against his chest. Her closeness made breathing impossible, not simply because she was leaning against him, but her sweet-smelling hair was inches from his nose. He gingerly settled his other arm over her waist and gave in to the urge to hold her a little closer. She snuggled against him with a sigh and didn’t say a word about him holding her too tightly.

  If he slept at all tonight it would be a miracle.

  “Do you have dreams, Isaac?” she whispered, and he was reminded of a time when he was very small and another boy had spent the night with him up in the loft. The two of them had spoken in hushed whispers late into the night. That was back when his mama was alive. She’d called up several times to hush them and told them to get back to sleep. He smiled a little at the memory.