Jane Goodger (16 page)

“Hmph.”

“Yes, indeed,” Maggie said, smiling in victory. “And if that is the case, think how crushed he must have been when you told him he was being ridiculous.”

“Oh, but he couldn’t have meant it,” Amelia said, somewhat uncertainly. “I’d feel positively beastly if he did mean it. I’m certain he was simply trying to save me. What did he look like when I said that?”

“Honestly? I thought he looked rather crushed at first,” Maggie said gently. “He did make a good recovery, almost as if he was expecting such a reaction.”

“Now I do feel beastly,” Amelia said. “I would never want to intentionally hurt him. He may come across as rather gruff, but he’s extremely nice. Too nice, really. He never even charges his patients, and there’s one woman who’s been getting all her groceries for years for free.”

“And the three-legged dog?”

Amelia nodded. “He really is very nice.”

“And handsome.”

It was Amelia’s turn to shrug, as if she hadn’t noticed just how beautiful a man he was, which of course she had. She was a living, breathing woman, after all.

That night, when everyone had found a bed, Amelia lay in her room staring out the window at the unimaginable number of stars above her. She couldn’t sleep, her mind going over and over the day’s events. She hadn’t had a moment alone with Boone, who had barely been able to meet her eyes when she did find him looking her way.

They’d eaten at the hotel, before it became filled with the rowdy cowboys that were starting to flood home from the cattle drives. Even at this moment, though her bedroom faced away from the hotel, she could hear someone banging on a piano that clearly needed tuning, and the loud, drunken singing of men. They seemed a harmless lot, but Boone didn’t want to expose his guests to their revelry.

Boone. Since he’d proposed, she kept imagining what her life would be like with him, whether she could come to love him. And she realized as she lay looking at the stars, that she would. How could a woman not love a man as good and kind and handsome as Boone? It would be a calmer, gentler love than she would have had with Carson, certainly.

Carson. She scowled into the night. Carson, she reminded herself, had never loved her, so any comparison between the brothers was fruitless. She seemed to have lost control of her life the minute Carson Kitteridge walked into the ballroom at the Christmas Ball just eight months before.

As if that thought conjured him, Carson slipped into her room, nearly frightening her to death. “What are you doing here?” she whispered harshly, sitting up, her heart racing.

Carson sat at the foot of her bed, his hands braced on his thighs as if he was ready to lunge up at a moment’s notice. “I’ve come to say good-bye. I’m headin’ west to California, and I won’t be back.” He let out a breath. “Ever.”

Despite her resolve to remain unaffected by this man she thought she’d loved so desperately, her eyes pricked with unshed tears. “Good-bye, then.”

“Before I go, I need to say something. I need…” He paused as if forming his words carefully, which was so unlike Carson. “I need to say I’m sorry. And I need to tell you something about Boone.”

“I won’t marry him,” Amelia said, even though she knew, deep down, she would. But the broken part of her heart still hoped that Carson would magically turn into the man she’d thought he was.

“I think you should,” Carson said quietly, and Amelia’s heart broke all over again. “I think you should because you’ll never find a better man than my brother. And because he deserves to be loved.”

“But I don’t love him,” Amelia said.

“You should,” Carson said with uncharacteristic fierceness. “If he asks, you say yes. And act happy. And make sure he never knows you don’t love him. Can you do that for me?”

Tears spilled over, and Amelia wondered if Carson had any idea how painful it was to hear him urge her to marry another man. How could he be so utterly unfeeling? “I don’t know if I can marry him, but if I do, I will, of course, do as you say,” she said honestly.

“I want to tell you a story,” Carson said, hiking one knee onto the bed so he could face her. “My father loved me somethin’ fierce. I was the apple of his eye and I loved him back just as much. But I’m ashamed of myself, I truly am. Because my father hated Boone. To this day, I don’t know why and I expect I never will. Boone was the good one, the one who made sure I was fed, who cleaned up my messes. He tried so hard to please my father, but he never could. Ever.

“My father would beat Boone almost daily and say the most awful things. And Boone would just try harder. And I watched and figured Boone deserved what he got. I was just a little kid and my daddy was always nice to me. He’d lift me up on his shoulders and carry me around town and Boone would be trailin’ behind us. I didn’t know any better, you see.”

Amelia made a small sound, but Carson ignored her and kept talking.

“One night we were all eating supper and my father was in a rare good mood. I remember feeling so happy that he wasn’t yelling at Boone. I must have been six or seven and I let out some gas.”

Amelia could see Carson smiling in the darkness.

“Well, my daddy put down his fork and laughed and laughed. And we both laughed, even Boone, and it was the best sight I’d seen in a long time.” His smile slowly disappeared. “I don’t know what he was thinkin’, probably that he wanted to please my daddy, I don’t know, but Boone lit off some gas himself. And my father backhanded him so hard, he flew off his chair.”

“Oh, no,” Amelia gasped. “Poor Boone.”

“Yeah. He just got back up on his chair and finished eating. He didn’t even cry, but he was shakin’ so hard he could hardly get the food to his mouth. I remember thinking for the first time that what my daddy had done was so unfair. I’d never felt that before. Guess I was too wrapped up in being the favored son. Not long after, Boone moved in with Mr. Johnson and I hardly saw him at all.”

Carson turned silent, staring off into the darkness.

“Why did you tell me this?”

“You have to know what makes a man to understand him,” he said simply. “He never deserved all those bad things, but I have a feeling that deep down inside, he thinks he did. I just want something good for him, just one good thing.”

Amelia let out a small, sad laugh. “And you think I’m that good thing?”

“You could be.” Carson leaned over and kissed Amelia’s forehead. “Good-bye, Amelia.” And then he stood and walked from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Amelia sat in the kitchen with her brother and Maggie playing piquet to pass the time. In Small Fork, the amusements were few and far between. In the fall, one of the ranchers held a Harvest Ball that all the ranchers from miles around attended, but few people in the town proper went. It was a hard-scrabble life for most, trying to eke out a living from a harsh land that its inhabitants would die protecting.

Amelia simply didn’t understand Texans, and probably never would. Julia, for example, had told her during her last visit that she would never leave Small Fork, and especially not Texas. “Why would I?” she asked, as if Amelia were asking her to leave paradise.

Paula Brentwood was back, unhappy as ever, with her equally unhappy husband, who’d dragged her home from Fort Worth. She’d been in the store that morning and Amelia had been so happy to see her. She hadn’t said a word that she might be staying in Small Fork as Boone’s wife, because other than blurting out his proposal, Boone hadn’t formally asked her.

She hadn’t seen Boone yet that day, for he’d gone over to the Benaventes’ to check up on Enrique and hadn’t yet returned. Amelia was about to deal when she heard the distinct tinkle of the store’s bell.

“It seems Boone has a customer,” she announced, then went into the store, hesitating slightly when she realized it was Boone.

“Good morning,” she said, trying—and failing—to sound normal.

“Morning.” He took off his hat and scrubbed at his hair, mussing it up in a boyish manner.

“How is Mr. Benavente?”

“Failing.” That one word held so much pain, it made Amelia’s heart lurch. “I don’t think he’ll last the day.”

“How is Agatha?”

Boone shook his head as if angry. “Not good. Not only is her husband dying, but Dulce hightailed it off, chasing after Carson.”

“Oh, dear.”

“I swear I hope she finds him. No two people deserve each other more than that pair.” He gave her a sharp look as if suddenly remembering that she herself had “hightailed it” after Carson not long ago.

Boone began wiping down the pristine counter. “Any customers this morning?”

“Just Mrs. Brentwood looking rather glum. I must say I was happy to see her, though I don’t think she was as pleased to see me.”

“Guess this isn’t really the place for some women,” Boone said, his words full of hidden meaning.

“No. It isn’t,” Amelia said softly.

Some emotion flickered in his eyes before he turned away, neatly folding his dusting cloth and putting it in a drawer. “About that proposal…” he started.

“You don’t have to explain. I know you didn’t mean it,” Amelia said quickly.

Boone turned to her, his eyes burning, and for a moment Amelia thought he looked furious. “I did mean it,” he said. “Oh.”

“I’d like an answer.”

Amelia swallowed. “Now?”

His mouth curved just a bit. “Now is as good a time as any.”

Amelia looked around her helplessly, seeing her world shrink to the size of this tiny town, this neat little store, this one man. She felt as if she were being squeezed and squeezed into a box with all sides closing in on her. “I can’t,” she said finally, and watched as his eyes grew dull and cold.

“All right then. The next train out is tomorrow. Start your packing.”

Amelia let out a laugh. “I didn’t mean I can’t marry you, I meant I can’t give you an answer right away.”

Boone felt relief wash over him.

“We need to talk over some things first,” she said pertly.

Then she smiled up at him and he felt the urge to drop to his knees and beg her to stay with him. He just might have if he’d truly thought it would work. For the first time in his life, he had a tormenting glimpse of something sweet and wonderful, but he wasn’t such a fool to believe the dream could come true.

“First,” she said, pulling back on her index finger, “that was not a proper proposal you made. I’m afraid even if the answer was yes, I would have to say no simply on those grounds. Second,” she said and pulled on another finger, “as much as I admire your ability to live, work, and conduct commerce all in the same building, I would like to have a separate house, if possible.”

Boone grinned, feeling himself fall more and more in love with every word she uttered. “That all sounds acceptable.”

“And finally,” she said, as if he hadn’t said a word, “I have to find out if you can kiss properly.” She raised an eyebrow as if she were issuing a challenge.

“I think I could try,” Boone said, feeling his cheeks flush like some schoolboy. “I don’t suppose that other kiss counts as proper?”

“It was quite adequate,” Amelia said primly. “But I do believe you can do better.”

Boone had never flirted with a girl in his life, and he wasn’t sure how to go about such a thing. “I think you’d better show me what you mean,” he said slowly, saying the first thing that came to mind.

Her eyes widened. “Here?”

“No one’s in the store.”

“But someone could walk in any moment.”

“Then we’d better get hidden,” he said, leading her behind a shelf. “Now. Go ahead with your lesson.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

Boone had been smiling, but his grin slowly faded. “Amelia,” he started, then floundered, ducking his head down. How could a man go about telling a girl that he was completely without experience when it came to lovemaking? What was it about Amelia that made him even consider such an admission?

“Go on.”

“You’re the only girl I’ve ever kissed.”

It was as if he’d just told her he had two heads, that’s how stunned she looked. “But you’re so handsome,” she blurted, then covered her mouth. “Well, you’re not offensive,” she amended. “All right, you’re quite stunning and surely you know it.”

His grin was back. “Stunning,” he said, liking the sound of it.

“Not that stunning,” she said, her eyes sweeping his face as if examining a painting. Her expression changed then, from teasing to something more serious. She reached up and touched his cheek with soft fingertips, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment. If such a simple touch could affect him so, he wondered what making love to this woman would do. “No, I’m wrong again. You
are
beautiful.”

Her lovely mouth curved up into the gentlest smile. “I’m going to kiss you now, Dr. Kitteridge.”

She rose up on her tiptoes and, putting her hand to the back of his neck, drew him down for a kiss, drew him toward heaven. She smelled like summer should, clean and fresh and pretty, and she felt like a woman should, soft and warm and lovely.

He moved his mouth against her, pure instinct, pure male need, artless and hungry. The only thing he knew was that he wanted more, wanted to kiss her forever, wanted to taste her and touch her and bury himself inside her. He let out a moan and thrust a hand against the wall to keep from falling as he felt the first timid touch of her tongue against his. Her hands clutched at his neck, pulling him close, and she let out sounds that nearly drove him mad with need.

He was growing painfully hard and tried to resist the urge to pull her against his arousal, but she was so pliant, so willing, he found himself putting one hand around her lower back, the other still braced on the wall, and pulling her toward him.

“Oh, Boone,” she breathed against his mouth. “Touch me.”

“Where?” he asked, nearly in a panic. Where should he touch her that was even remotely proper? They were in his store, after all, and anyone could walk in on them. He hadn’t thought past the idea that he wanted to kiss her. But this was more than a kiss, this was blatantly, wonderfully, frighteningly carnal. “Where should I touch you?” he said, not recognizing his own voice.

“Wherever you want,” she answered, kissing his neck, moving against him.

Wherever I want? Is she insane?

“What I want to do and what I can do are completely different things,” he said, breathing harshly.

Amelia stepped back flat against the wall, looking horrified. “Oh, goodness,” she said, holding her hands against her cheeks. She looked at him as if he were some sort of magician who had cast an evil spell upon her. Then she giggled, gazing up at him. “Oh, Boone, that was quite, quite wonderful. I do believe that was a proper kiss.”

And then something came over him, or perhaps it was just the rubbery feeling in his knees, but he fell to one knee and pulled her against him, his face turned, his eyes shut.

“Marry me,” he said, lifting his gaze to her, not caring that his eyes burned, that he was laying his heart at her feet.

“Yes, I will marry you.”

A woman would have to be made of stone to reject such a proposal after such a kiss. And as Amelia had found out, she was not made of stone.

Her physical reaction to his kiss was nothing less than astounding. Had she really begged him to touch her
anywhere?
If he had, she would have welcomed it, helped him, led him down a path that could only end one way. When he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him, it seemed so right.

But now, standing awkwardly beside a man she hardly knew in front of her brother and his wife, she felt all the uncertainties come flooding back.

“Boone has asked me to marry him and I have agreed,” she said, unaware that her voice sounded strained, as if someone were holding a knife to her throat and forcing the words from her mouth.

Maggie let out a squeal and rushed over to Amelia, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she said, as if the announcement were a total surprise. Then she turned to Boone and pulled him in for a rather awkward sisterly hug. “Welcome to the family.”

“You’ve made the right decision,” Edward said, far more formally. He shook Boone’s hand solemnly.

If anyone thought it odd that the engaged couple looked strangely unhappy, no one said a word.

“We could go to Abilene and get married there,” Boone was saying, which made it all more real. “Or I can fetch a preacher from Hanover.”

She wished he would kiss her again to make her feel that wonderful sense of rightness. A creeping panic began to envelop her, a silent scream that she had just agreed to change her life irrevocably. She would live in Texas with the man standing next to her, a man she didn’t love, but who could at least kiss well. When Edward and Maggie got on the train to leave, she would likely never see them again. She wouldn’t see her little cousins; they’d never know their aunt.

For some reason, those thoughts hadn’t occurred to her when she’d left England all those weeks ago to marry Carson. Which was why it was perfectly understandable when she burst into tears and threw herself into her brother’s arms, completely unmindful of how this would make Boone feel.

“Pre-wedding jitters,” Maggie said with false cheer.

Edward held Amelia, patting her on her back while she shed copious tears. “It’s been a trying two days,” he said weakly.

Boone stood there like a fool watching the woman he was going to marry sob into the shoulder of her brother not seconds after announcing, rather reluctantly he thought, that they were getting married. Where was the woman who’d been so willing in his arms? At least he’d thought she’d been willing. Perhaps her brother was putting undue force on her to wed him, and he was simply gullible enough to believe she wasn’t horrified by the thought.

“I’m not crying because of Boone,” Amelia said, her voice watery. “I’m crying because I’m going to miss you and the children. It’s so final. I never thought about it, not really.” She looked at Boone, her blue eyes wet with tears, her dark lashes spiky. “Oh, Boone, what you must think?”

Boone shook his head and lied. “I’m not thinking anything.”

She gave him a stern look. “Yes, you are. But you’re wrong. I do want to marry you.”

Though he wasn’t convinced, Boone accepted her words at face value. “I have to go check on Mr. Benavente. Can you watch the store for me?”

Amelia gave him an uncertain smile. “Of course.”

After he’d gone, Maggie looked at Amelia with a bit of exasperation. “You have to start being more aware of how your actions affect others,” Maggie said. “Men are far more fragile than we women would wish. Honestly, if I give your brother the tiniest frown, he thinks I’ve fallen out of love.”

“Not true,” Edward said. “It takes a scowl, not simply a frown.”

“I shall be a terrible wife,” Amelia moaned. “And of course, Boone shall be the perfect, kind, thoughtful husband. I shall make him miserable.”

Edward laughed. “Do you know he told me the opposite? That you would make him happy, but he would likely make you unhappy?”

“He said that? It would be nice if we made each other happy,” she said with a hint of melancholy.

“I’m certain you’ll both be happy,” Edward said, but his words sounded forced and his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

In August when the sun was the hottest, all the businesses in Small Fork, such as they were, closed down for a few hours. During that time, people ate cold lunches and tried to do as little as possible. Maggie, Edward, and Amelia sat by the fountain and held their hands in the cool water, periodically bathing their faces and necks.

“It’s rather hellish, is it not?” Edward asked.

“I’m getting a bit used to it,” Amelia said, sounding amazed. “When I first got here, I actually fainted. Can you imagine me fainting? Of course, I was wearing wool and a corset. I’ve learned that summer muslin is the only fabric one should wear in Texas. Boone’s not bothered a bit by the heat.”

“It’s like sitting in an oven,” Maggie said.

“I do hope for your sake that Boone considers my offer to move to Hollings.”

“What?” Amelia asked, feeling a thrill of excitement.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No. He didn’t,” Amelia said, her heart sinking slowly. Certainly if Boone planned to move to England he would have mentioned it when he’d asked her to marry him.

“I spoke out of turn.”

“Yes, you did,” Maggie said, glaring at her husband.

Feeling depressed, Amelia let her hand trail in the water. “I think I shall visit with a friend of mine, if you don’t mind.”

“We’ll be here. Cooking.”

Amelia laughed, appreciating that her brother was trying to make her feel better. “I’ll return when you are medium well. Perhaps one hour?”