Julia: Bride of New York (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 11) (9 page)

She placed her hand on her heart. “What?”

“What are you doing here?”

She gave him a questioning look. “I work here. I thought we already established that a few days ago.”

“Have you already forgotten you were injured this morning?”

“Oh, that. One of the girls gave me some face paint to cover the bruise.” She tilted her chin. “Look. You can’t see anything.”

Fletcher rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “You should have given yourself a night off. You can’t tell me your jaw doesn’t hurt.”

She shrugged. “A bit. But I can’t afford to miss work. Now if you will excuse me, I have customers wanting their drinks.”

He opened his mouth to speak when behind him the sound of a table hitting the floor and poker chips scattering drew their attention. A man backed up and plowed into Fletcher, who grabbed another table to keep from falling.

“Get away,” he shouted to Julia.

She stood like a statue, staring at the two men throwing punches at each other. Fletcher grabbed for one of them and missed. Three others dove into the melee, crashing into another table, splitting it in half. Fletcher pulled a chair from a man just before he was about to crash it onto another one’s head.

What the hell was going on? He’d had his fill of fights today. The men at the outer tables shouted instructions and encouragement to the men fist fighting. Since Fletcher didn’t recognize a lot of them, they must have been the farm workers in town for the night.

Remembering Julia was once again in danger, he swung around just as a man fell at her feet. “Julia, go behind the bar,” he shouted. He grabbed her by the elbow. “Move!”

Spurred into action, Julia backed away from the two men rolling around the floor in front of her and scurried behind the bar just as Fletcher pulled out his gun and shot into the air. After receiving one final punch, the man closest to him collapsed on a table, breaking it in half. The others froze, some of them with arms in place ready to connect with another man’s face.

Silence fell over the room. “Now I want all of you to settle down. I don’t know what started this whole thing and don’t care, either. But right now Mackinaw here will be taking names, and you’ll all be required to split the cost of the damages this little brawl caused. If any of you have a problem with that, I’ll be happy to escort you to the jail where you can wait for the circuit judge to come around.” He rested his hands on his hips and spread his feet. “Is that clear?” Several men nodded. “I need a ‘yes’ from all of you, or everyone’s headed to jail tonight.”

The rest of the men nodded. One man had a bloody lip, several were already showing signs of black eyes, and Mackinaw tossed a glass of water on the man on the floor. He came up sputtering.

“Get this place cleaned up.” Fletcher slid his gun back into his holster, stepped over broken furniture, and leaned on the bar. “Miss Benson, I will escort you home now.”

Julia glanced at Mackinaw.

“Yeah, go ahead on home. It’ll take while to fix this, then I’m closing up for the night.”

Tired to the bone from the escapade earlier in the day and the time on her feet, Julia was more than ready to leave. Despite what she’d told Fletcher, her jaw ached something fierce. For an old man, Mr. Wimbly packed quite a wallop.

She fetched her coat from the back room and joined Fletcher who watched over the men cleaning up. He must have seen the weariness in her face because he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and, practically carrying her, moved them though the mess the saloon had become.

The cool night air felt good on her heated skin. He walked her up to his horse and grasping her around the waist, he lifted her onto the saddle, then climbed up behind her.

“No buggy?”

He enveloped her in his arms and took hold of the reins. “I don’t usually make my nightly rounds in a buggy.”

“Oh, of course.” She tried very hard to smother a yawn, but it escaped anyway. She also found it hard to sit up, so, against her better judgment, she leaned into Fletcher’s warm chest and immediately relaxed. The steady beat of his heart against her back, the familiar scent of man, horse, and leather, and the rocking of the horse, would have put her to sleep if her jaw hadn’t continued to throb. Why did this position feel so good? So right? She felt as if she were cared for and protected for the first time in years.

“Julia?”

“Um.”

“Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“What am I not getting right?”

She snuggled further into his arms, and smiled. “Think about it.”

Chapter Eight

Julia wasn’t sure why she’d accepted Fletcher’s invitation to the Harvest Dance. Held every year on the first Saturday in October, he’d told her, it gave the farmers, and the town, a reason to celebrate before they were all snowed in for the winter.

She hadn’t given much thought to snowy winters when she’d agreed to marry Mr. Johnson of Wickerton, New York. They’d had snow in Rhode Island where she’d grown up and in Lawrence the two winters she’d worked in the factory. However, from what Fletcher had told her, winters could get pretty bad this far north.

Although she’d agreed to attend the dance with him, it hurt to see Fletcher, and feel what she did for him, knowing he viewed her as merely someone to help raise his daughter. He seemed to still be mourning his wife, who he must have loved very much. That was certainly understandable, but she was afraid he would never open up his heart again.

Every glance he gave here, every touch, whether accidental or not, stirred her blood and made her long for something that would probably never be. Sometimes the way he looked at her made her wonder if he wasn’t feeling some of the things she felt. Then she would dismiss it.

Perhaps she would be far better off saving her money and finding another nice little town to settle into. One where she wouldn’t run into him every day. She smiled, remembering how he followed her home each night, thinking she had no idea.

After the first few times she had thought someone purposely followed her, she had stopped and pretended to adjust the button on her shoe. From the side of her eye, she saw him duck into the shadows. She’d stifled a giggle since she would know him anywhere. In the light, in the dark, and in the shadows.

If he cared enough about her to make sure she arrived home safely, why couldn’t he admit he might want her for more than just a substitute mother for Patty Ann?

A soft knock on her bedroom door drew her from her musings. “Yes?”

Mrs. Beamer opened the door. “The sheriff is here, Miss Benson. And I must say your young man is looking quite handsome.”

“Thank you.” Julia picked up her warm coat, wool gloves, and bonnet, and followed her landlady down the stairs. Fletcher stood in the parlor, his muscular legs spread. Oh, my. Yes, her “young man” was indeed handsome.

His hair was still damp from his bath, his blond curls skimming his collar. He stood with his hat in his hands, twirling the brim as he talked to Mr. Andrews, who was June Dixon’s beau. They were also attending the dance.

Julia couldn’t help but admire Fletcher’s broad shoulders, trim waist, and long, strong legs. What would it be like to have him as a husband? To climb into bed every night with him next to her? A flash of heat at the idea raced through her, making her clothes feel restrictive. Just then he turned, and the sparkle in his eyes as they met hers increased the heat until she felt as though she would explode. This was crazy. She had to get herself under control.

“You look lovely, Miss Benson.”

Assuming he used the formal term because of Mr. Andrews, she responded with, “Thank you, Sheriff.”

The twinkle in his eye turned to humor, and almost as if they could read each other’s minds, she fought to keep from laughing out loud.

Mr. Andrews nodded in her direction. “Yes, Miss Benson, you look very nice.” He ran his finger around the inside of his collar, something he most likely did every time he wore a dress shirt, since, as a farmer, he was more accustomed to flannel shirts and overalls.

“Thank you, also, Mr. Andrews.”

Fletcher stepped up and took her coat from her arm, helping her into in. He rested his hands on her shoulders for a minute, the heat in her body that had begun to dissipate returning. Since her back was to him, she couldn’t see his expression, but his breathing seemed to be heavier than usual.

What was happening?

He cleared his throat and extended his arm for her to take. She shivered slightly when she touched him, yet her skin still felt hot. Maybe she should stay home.

I might be getting sick.

Fletcher helped her into a buggy in front of her house. He climbed in beside her and handed her a blanket, then took it back from her hands and wrapped her in it, pulling her close. He stared at her for a minute, then slowly lowered his head.

Oh, God. He was going to kiss her.

His lips touched hers, brushing them back and forth, barely making contact. A groan escaped him, and he cupped her face and held it gently. Anchoring her head, his mouth covered hers hungrily. He nudged her lips and when she opened, he swept in, touching parts that she’d never realized were sensitive.

Her arms moved up his chest to settle on his shoulders. He released her lips and kissed her jaw and the sensitive skin behind her ear. “I couldn’t help myself, sweetheart. You’re a beauty.”

The man was wreaking havoc with her senses. Her breasts were crushed against him, and once again her clothes felt restrictive. She pulled back, placing her hands on his chest. They both gasped for breath. She moved further back, into the corner of the buggy. “I think we’d better go. Mr. Andrews and June will be coming out any minute.”

“Yes, you’re right.” He slid back over and picked up the discarded straps. He snapped the reins, and the horses took off, jerking Julia back. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the blanket down, no longer cold.

Heavens! That was quite an experience. She’d never been kissed like that before. Actually, she’d never really been kissed at all. Perhaps a peck on the cheek from a young boy when she’d been a girl, but certainly never from a man and never like that. What had he been thinking? Had he discovered feelings for her after all?

They were practically at the town hall, where the dance was being held, before her breathing returned to normal. The well-lit hall cast enough light through the windows that it almost looked like daytime. Parked in neat rows, buggies, carriages, and wagons filled the area in front of the building.

Everything look so ordinary, she wondered if she’d imagine what they’d just shared. She cast a glance in Fletcher’s direction and knew she’d not imagined it. The passion had turned his hazel eyes almost brown. Did she look the same? Would everyone in the dance hall know what had just happened between them?

“Julia.” He leaned closer and placed his knuckle under her chin.

“Hey, Sheriff. You and your gal gonna join us or you gonna sit out here all night?” Dex Roberts, Wickerton’s only barber, grinned as he leaned into the buggy.

Julia breathed a sigh of relief. She was still trying to figure out what had happened back there. She’d been feeling out of sorts from the time she came down the stairs and saw Fletcher standing there, twirling his hat in his hand

“Sure. We’re coming in right now.” Fletcher jumped from the buggy and swung Julia down. Dex kept up a running conversation, mostly with himself, as the three entered the building, leaving Julia to her thoughts.

Life had been hard growing up in Rhode Island with so many brothers and sisters, so there was rarely time, or money, for entertainment. Julia had been working at the factory for almost a year before she’d attended her first dance. The smell of women’s perfumes, the sounds of the music, the excitement in the crowd, and the feelings they invoked still enthused her. She looked around and was glad she’d taken the time to wash and iron her best dress. The light blue muslin, with pearl buttons down the front and lace on the neckline and cuffs, had always been one of her favorites. She’d made the dress at the factory, after hours, with the owner’s permission.

She’d added a blue satin ribbon to the curls cascading down her back, her best lace gloves, and a dash of perfume. She felt pretty, despite her slight limp. From the appreciative glances she was receiving, others liked the way she looked, as well.

Fletcher listened to Dex going on and on about something he’d lost track of a while ago. Instead, all his attention was riveted on Julia. Back at the boarding house, he’d nearly lost his breath when she came down the stairs. The blue in her dress heightened the depth of her eyes until he found himself getting lost in them.

Her smile as she saw him just about knocked him off his feet. When Andrews complimented her on how she looked, he had the ridiculous urge to punch the man in his face. What the hell was happening to him? He’d never experienced such a possessive streak for Laura when they’d been married.

He probably shouldn’t have kissed Julia like he had, but once he had her in his arms after wrapping the blanket around her, it seemed inevitable. Like it had been decided for him without conscious thought.

Her lips had been soft and warm. Moist, with the light flavor of peppermint. He could have easily skipped the dance and spent more time exploring Julia and all the various ways he could kiss her.

Finally Dex’s attention was caught by someone across the room, and he excused himself. Fletcher turned to Julia, who was eyeing the hall as if she’d never seen anything like it before.

“I guess I should have asked before now, but do you dance?”

“I can dance, but do I have the opportunity? Not often. I’m grateful that Mac let me have the night off. This is exciting.”

Once again his breath caught at the look on her face. Like a child who had just been handed a treat she’d desired for a long, long time. What he wouldn’t give to be the man who’d caused that. Of course, he had in a way, since he suggested to Mac that he give Julia the night off. All right, maybe it was more than a suggestion, but he and Mac went way back. They’d both been in school together, and he was cousin to Laura.