A Tailor-Made Bride (29 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll keep an eye on you from the kitchen, then.”

Warren tugged on his sleeves, looking about as comfortable in his sack suit as a man who had rolled in poison oak the day before.

“Stop terrorizing him, J.T.,” Delia said from behind him. “Warren knows how to act the part of a gentleman.”

J.T. stepped aside to let his sister pass, his eyes still locked on the man who had come calling. A disturbing flare of insolence crossed Warren’s features at Delia’s words, as if he were daring J.T. to contradict them. J.T. unfolded his arms and took a step toward him. The insolence vanished. Satisfied, J.T. retreated into the house and closed the door.

He headed for the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. Hannah, a full dishpan between her and the window, was leaning forward, her nose nearly touching the glass.

“I see I’m not the only one interested in what’s going on out there.”

She jumped, and a plate slid out of her hand, splashing water into her face. “Oh!” She squinted against the unexpected geyser.

J.T. hurried to her side, slid a towel from the bar by the pump, and gently dabbed the droplets from her face. He stroked the cotton cloth over her forehead, cheeks, and chin. Then, just for good measure, he lightly ran it over her lips, as well. Her pink tongue reached out to moisten them again, and heat rose inside him.

“Thank you.” Her low voice sent a shiver through him.

He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

She blinked, and the building fervor in her eyes dispersed, replaced by a teasing twinkle he found almost as alluring. “Now that you’ve got that towel in hand,” she said, “you can dry.” Hannah retrieved the sunken plate and handed it to him with a grin.

He raised an eyebrow but accepted the dish. “Just don’t tell my sister I know how to do this, or she may put me to work every night.”

Hannah extracted her dripping fingers from the water long enough to flick him with a few sprinkles. He frowned, earning him a laugh from the sprite at his side.

“My mama always said dishwater could cure any ailment. It’d be good for you to be close to it more often.”

J.T. doubted it could cure what ailed him, but then he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to be cured anymore.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence broken only by the clink of crockery and glassware. As he waited for her to pass him another plate, he admired the line of her neck. Slender and pale, with a perfect little hollow near her collar that his lips longed to taste. Veering away from temptation, his gaze roamed up to the braided knot low on her head. A blue thread peeked out at him from between the strands and his heart gave a little leap. She was wearing his ribbon.

A part of him had worried that she’d find his gifts juvenile. Heaven knew he’d felt juvenile leaving them, like a kid in short pants bringing his teacher a fistful of dandelions. After all, what kind of man gave a woman a leaf or a bird feather? Yet after contemplating Ike and Delia’s discussion of hymn lyrics, he realized women liked poetry. At least Delia did. His mother would have turned her nose up at a paltry rhyme and objects that cost nothing but patience to acquire. However, he thought Hannah might appreciate them. He’d hoped she would, anyway. A woman who saw beauty in a shiny button and a wooden hummingbird should be able to find it in other small things, too. Right?

He’d stolen the first lines of his poetry from the hymn they’d sung at the close of church last Sunday, only adding a few lines of his own at the end. Each evening, he’d hunted the countryside for the right gift to offer the following day, but he never quite worked up the courage to hand it to her in person. So he’d shoved the things into jars and left them on her step. Not knowing his sister had invited Hannah to dinner, he’d left another gift a mere hour before she showed up at his home. He’d run out of poetic things to say, so he’d simply left the jar, filled with a lopsided bouquet of yellow sunflowers.

Never one to play the coward for long, J.T. steeled himself as Hannah turned to pass him a platter. “So . . . uh . . . did you like the sunflowers?”

Her eyes widened slightly and roses bloomed in her cheeks, but the smile that followed unclenched his gut. “I loved them. And all the other gifts, as well. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She bent back to her task, rummaging around in the grayish water for something else to wash. “I had hoped they were from you.” She spoke in such a quiet tone, he had to strain to hear her. “I would have thanked you earlier, but there was no signature on any of the notes. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself if the sender turned out to be someone else.”

That’s what being a coward got a man—confusion and an uncomfortable spark of jealousy. Forcing a casual air to his voice he was far from feeling, he asked the question that burned in his belly. “You got someone else courting you?”

“No.” The fork she’d been scrubbing slid from her hand, returning to the murky depths. “But then, I wasn’t sure I had you courting me, either. I seem to recall you expressing a number of objections to my suitability in the past.”

“That’s because I was close-minded and couldn’t see past my own experiences.”

Her head spun toward his and the open vulnerability in her eyes branded his heart. For the first time in his life, he wished he were the kind of man who knew how to woo a woman with pretty words. With his luck, though, he’d mangle the attempt and trample her feelings. He’d have to show her instead.

Slowly, he drew her hands from the water and dried them with his towel, aware that she was watching his movements. He ran his palm up her arm and cupped her shoulder. Then, unable to resist, he traced the shape of that delightful hollow at the base of her neck with his fingertip. A tremor passed through her, and the nearly inaudible sound of her breath catching made his pulse throb.

He slipped his hand around the back of her neck. His fingers toyed with the downy hair at her nape while his thumb caressed her cheek and ear. Hannah’s lashes fluttered closed, then languidly lifted to reveal eyes darkened to a midnight blue. Her lips parted slightly, and he extracted his hand just enough to trail his thumb across their softness.

“I was wrong,” he murmured. “No one could be more suitable.”

Digging his fingers into her hair, he dragged her close and lowered his mouth.

The front door banged closed. Hannah jumped and tried to pull out of his embrace, but he wasn’t quite ready to let her go. He might never be.

“Jericho.”
Hannah’s frantic whisper restored his common sense, and he allowed the slender fingers that had been clutching his shirt a moment ago to push him away.

Delia stood in the doorway, looking from him to Hannah and back again. He positioned himself in front of Hannah, trying to absorb the majority of the scrutiny, while mentally listing all the reasons he shouldn’t strangle his sister.

“Warren leave?” he groused.

“Not happily, but yes, he accepted my refusal and left.” She cocked a hip and planted her fist against it. “You know, he could have been out there compromising my virtue for all the attention you paid. Get distracted, J.T.?”

He snatched the towel from the floor and threw it at her. “Finish up the dishes while I walk Miss Richards home.” Taking Hannah’s hand, he tugged her toward the door, but after a few faltering steps, she stopped.

“Wait,” she said. “Cordelia invited me here tonight in order to have someone to talk to after Mr. Hawkins left.” Her face was glowing as red as a radish, yet instead of taking the escape he’d offered, she was holding firm to her promise. “Why don’t you finish the dishes while Cordelia and I talk? I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go.”

“Yeah, big brother. Finish the dishes.” The imp tossed the towel in his face and then giggled as she absconded with Hannah, the two disappearing behind the door of her bedroom.

Comforting himself with the fact that he could still look forward to escorting Hannah home, J.T. rolled up his sleeves and plunged his hands into the lukewarm water. He never thought he’d be reduced to doing dishes while the two women he loved talked about him behind closed doors.

The tip of a knife jabbed his finger as that thought took hold. The women he loved. He loved Hannah.

J.T. stuck his pricked finger into his mouth to stem the trickle of blood, then dunked it back in the water.

Father had always warned him that love made a man do crazy things. He’d been right. Two able-bodied women were currently under his roof, yet
he
was the one doing the dishes.

C
HAPTER 28

“Did he kiss you?”

Hannah sighed and pressed her shoulder blades into the closed door, wishing she could give an affirmative answer to that question. “We’re supposed to be talking about you, remember?”

Cordelia tucked a leg beneath her and sat on the bed. She bounced on the mattress and grinned. “Well, did he?”

Hannah couldn’t quite meet Cordelia’s eye. “Almost.”

Her friend moaned and flopped backward on the bed. “I should have put up with Warren for a few more minutes.”

Yes
, Hannah’s heart cried, but her mind knew better. She moved to the bed and sat on the corner next to her recumbent friend. “Of course not. Now, tell me how things went out there.”

Cordelia rolled onto her side to face Hannah. “Some good, some bad. He apologized for waiting so long to tell me of his feelings and then springing them on me without any warning.” She fiddled with a button on the front of her dress. “We reminisced a little, which was nice, but then he showed me the ring he’d picked out from his father’s store. I panicked.”

“Did he propose again?”

“I didn’t let him.” She finally looked up. “Oh, Hannah, I didn’t want to hurt him. I thanked him for being a good friend to me, but he kept shoving that ring in my face as if it would change my mind. I worried that if I didn’t escape soon, he would seize my hand and force it onto my finger against my will. I scurried toward the door, said that I was sorry, but I didn’t love him the way a wife should love a husband, wished him a good night, and retreated into the house, leaving him out on the porch all by himself.” She flopped onto her back and covered her eyes with her arm. “I’ve never been so rude to anyone in all my life. I feel horrible about it.”

“Well, don’t.” Hannah drew Cordelia’s arm away from her face and tugged her up into a sitting position. “Warren was much too forward. He frightened you. You had every right to flee. It would have been foolish not to.”

Cordelia laid her head on Hannah’s shoulder. “I was so afraid J.T. would storm out and beat Warren to a pulp. When I realized he’d been too hung up on you to even notice what happened, I counted my blessings. I may not want to marry Warren, but I’m not anxious to see him pulverized, either.”

A tinge of guilt overshadowed Hannah’s joy. What if Cordelia had truly been in trouble? She never would have forgiven herself if she had kept Jericho from intervening.

The thought must have shown on her face, for when Cordelia lifted her head, she gave Hannah a little swat on the arm. “Don’t go blaming yourself for anything. If I had needed J.T.’s help, I would have made enough noise to catch his attention. He was distracted, not deaf.”

“Just the same, I’m glad you won’t have to deal with Warren any longer. He won’t continue pursuing you, will he?”

“No. He’s not the type to ignore my wishes. He might sulk for a while, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he stopped speaking to me, but things will clear up between us eventually. They always do.”

“Well, then.” Hannah squeezed Cordelia’s hand. “Let’s put Warren out of our minds for now and focus on Ike, shall we?”

Cordelia grinned and bobbed her head in agreement.

“Founders’ Day is only a week away. You and Ike will be together for an entire afternoon. A new dress, a shared picnic, a chance to sneak away from the crowd to talk and possibly even share a kiss.”

“If only I could be so lucky.”

“We’re not going to wait on luck.” Hannah arched her brow and gave Cordelia a conspiratorial wink.

“What’s dancing around in that mind of yours, Hannah Richards?”

“I might not be able to make Ike kiss you, but I have a plan to ensure he gets a window of opportunity should he wish to try.”

Founders’ Day arrived, and J.T. found himself in the kitchen again, this time fetching and carrying for his sister.

“Place the two covered dishes in the first crate and the stockpot full of fried chicken in the second while I finish up these deviled eggs.” Her skirt billowed out behind her as she dashed about the room, turning in circles fast enough to make him dizzy.

“What’s in the covered dishes?” He thought of just lifting the lids and seeing for himself, but when Delia was in a tizzy, one didn’t touch her food unless he was ready for a smack from a wooden spoon or some other handy utensil. There were too many knives within her reach for him to tempt fate.

“Carrot salad in one, potato in the other.” She didn’t spare him a glance as she mashed boiled egg yolks with the back of a silver spoon. “You also need to pack two jars of my pickles. One sweet. One dill.”

J.T. lugged the heavy dishes to the waiting crates. “You sure you got enough food, sis?”

Delia stopped mashing her yolks for a second and bit her lip. “Maybe not. With Louisa and her brood joining us, as well . . . I thought I had enough, but . . . Better throw in an extra loaf of bread and some apple butter.”

“I was kidding.” J.T. chuckled and shook his head at her. “You have enough here to feed the entire town. It’s a good thing no one rented the General. We’ll need that freight wagon to haul all this stuff to the mill pond. Besides, Hannah and Louisa are contributing, too.”

She glared at him. “Just the same, add the apple butter. I already have two bread loaves packed in the basket with the pound cake and cookies. Hannah is bringing a batch of biscuits and preserves, so we probably won’t need the extra loaf. Louisa said she’d bring sliced ham sandwiches to go with the chicken.”

He dug out the jar of apple butter and carried the crates and bread basket out to the wagon. When he returned, Delia had the egg halves back together and skewered with a mess of his toothpicks. She piled them in a small pail and covered them with a checkered cloth. “Don’t take this one out until we’re ready to go, and then make sure to keep it out of the sun.”