Rebellious Bride (24 page)

Rolfe clinked his glass against Lil’s. How he wished the brother of his youth would come to visit—not the one who had shaken his hand and wished him well upon leaving England, but the one who would have hugged him and slapped him on the back, insisting a mere ocean couldn’t separate the Sherborn brothers.

“To Evan,” he toasted, catching his wife’s playful smile as he sipped his wine. “You will behave,” he warned her.

“I will act as only Lady Sherborn could.” She saluted him with her glass.

“Lil, I’m warning you. You will be on your best behavior. I will not tolerate any of your antics.”

“My comportment will be impeccable,” she announced and slipped the black robe off her shoulders to her waist.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” She pushed her hair back away from her face, then stretched her arms out behind her. “Aren’t you hot?”

If he hadn’t been hot before, he certainly was now. Her breasts, so full and round, protruded proudly, and her nipples were large and soft waiting for his touch to bring them to life.

“This is impeccable comportment?” he scolded.

Lil stood, dropping the robe to lie at her feet. “This,” she said, running her hands up and down her nakedness, “is a woman hungry for her husband.”

Rolfe needed no further urging. He stood, disrobed, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the bed.

The snow started falling around eight that evening, and at midnight it still continued its slow descent. The snowflakes swirled gently to the ground, carpeting the land and veiling the buildings and trees in white.

Lil loved the snow, she always had. As a child she had played for hours in it, the cold being no deterrent. Mittens, scarves, boots, and heavy woolen underwear kept her warm.

Then, later, she enjoyed the hot cider and warm bread fresh from the oven that filled the house with its mouth-watering scent. And at Christmastime there were pine boughs, sweet homemade candies, and dried apples pin-cushioned with cloves, all three scents adding to the holiday gaiety.

Lil glanced down at her husband. He lay asleep beside her in his bed that was now their bed. His memories had sounded rich until maturity interfered. She envied him his brother, despite their strained relationship. She had often wished for a sister or brother—someone to share the fun of growing up with, someone to cry and laugh with.

Her hand instinctively covered her naked belly. She wanted children, several children. She wanted the house to ring with their love, laughter, and tears.

Did Rolfe want children? They had been thrown into this marriage and had discussed nothing. He had issued orders; she had ignored them. They seemed to be compatible only in bed.

Lil extinguished the lamp beside the bed and slipped deeper beneath the covers, snuggling beside her husband. His arm automatically moved around her and hugged her to him. She cuddled against his warmth.

How did a woman get a man—her husband, at that—to love her? Rolfe was accustomed to arranged marriages and had even been content in one; she was not. He wasn’t the husband she would have chosen, and it surprised her that she could actually love a man like Rolfe. But he still remained a mystery to her, one day looking like a tough cowboy and the next, like a stuffy peer from England, unskilled in the ways of the West.

Patience was her friend, and with its help she would find a way to solve the problems that plagued her.

She kissed her husband’s chest, rested her face against his hard muscles, and threw her leg over his. In minutes sleep claimed her, and she dreamed of a little boy yelling joyfully as he ran naked toward a pond, dragging a black silver-tipped cane behind him.

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Christmas is only five days away,” Billy chimed, sending Lil and Holly a fast wave as he hurried past them down the street. He stopped a minute, dropped his head back, and attempted to catch the falling snowflakes in his wide open mouth. Content with a few captured flakes, he continued on shouting his cheer.

“Lord, I wish I had his stamina,” Holly said with a laugh. “By the time Christmas arrives I’ll be exhausted.”

Lil rubbed her hands together and blew her warm breath on them. She had left her knitted gloves at Doc’s office and was paying the price for her forgetfulness—cold fingers. “Don’t tire yourself out too much. I want you bright and happy when you and my father spend Christmas Day with Rolfe and me.”

Holly sighed appreciatively. “You don’t know how I’m looking forward to it, to have someone else do all the cooking and cleaning up—sheer heaven.”

Lil jammed her cold hands in the warm pockets of her dark green coat. “You’re not fooling me, Holly Davin. I’ll bet you’ve been baking up a storm and will arrive on my doorstep with a heavy basket.”

Holly laughed and hugged the basket she carried on her arm. “Just a few holiday favorites. I have to bake for my boarders anyway, and Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without my fruitcake and homemade candies.”

“Make extra peppermint rolls,” Lil urged. “I love your peppermint rolls.”

“Stop by my house before you go home today. My sideboard is groaning under the weight of holiday candies, cookies, and cakes. You can take some home with you.”

“Your boarders might not like my pillaging their food,” Lil teased.

“There’s enough to pillage. I keep a steady supply for them. All of them have plans for Christmas dinner, but they insist on eating breakfast with me before they go off on their own for the day.”

Lil poked Holly in the arm as they walked along. “That’s because they’re afraid it’s the only decent food they’ll get all day.”

Holly’s cheeks glowed red from the compliment as well as the cold. “Stop your teasing. I’m an average cook and no more.”

“Huh, average, my foot. My father’s gained at least five pounds since he’s been seeing you.”

Holly’s cheeks brightened further, but not from the cold. Her expression turned serious as she stopped walking and turned to Lil, placing her hand on her arm. “You... you don’t mind me seeing your father, do you?”

Lil shook her head, her smile broad, then threw her arms around Holly and hugged her mightily. “You have no idea how happy it makes me that you and my father are an item.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Holly cried and raised her hand to her mouth, looking about her to see if anyone had heard her outburst. No one paid any attention; people were too busy bustling about their business. “The town’s talking about us?”

Lil found humor in someone else being the focus of town gossip, she herself usually being the center of it. “I wouldn’t be surprised if bets are being laid as to when you two will wed.”

Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt when a commotion across the street drew their attention. Both women watched as two men argued and shoved at each other in the middle of the street.

“They’re drunk,” Holly said, shaking her head in disgust at their disgraceful behavior.

Lil agreed. The two men had obviously imbibed too much holiday cheer too soon. They staggered, they ranted, and their hands inched too close to their holstered guns.

“I ain’t cheated no one,” the short man insisted, giving his opponent a hard shove.

“You cheated me out of ten dollars, and I want my money,” the other man spat, hoisting his gun belt up to rest beneath his protruding belly.

“You want your money, then come and get it,” the short man announced and covered the butt of his gun with his hand.

The man with the tubby belly moved his hand over his gun. “Ain’t nobody gonna pull a gun on me, especially a cheat.”

“I ain’t a cheat,” the other man yelled.

“Get your hands off your guns now! Both of you!” Sam shouted sharply, moving fast toward the two men.

Lil and Holly hurried to the edge of the boardwalk to watch, both women worried over Sam’s safety.

“Cheat!”

“Liar!”

With those accusations hurled, chaos followed. Bullets ripped through the air and sent everyone on the street scrambling. Sam rushed into the melee, his fists swinging.

Rolfe walked out of the bank when the commotion was over, Sam having taken control. The two men were now lying face down in the snow as a result of the stinging punches Sam had delivered to each. He was about to congratulate Sam on a job well done but halted in mid-stride when an ear-splitting scream sounded for Sam.

Both men turned and froze for an instant as they saw Lil sprawled out on the snow-covered ground. Holly was on her knees next to Lil, her screams for Sam more urgent.

Rolfe bolted across the street, reaching his wife’s side before her father. He fell on his knees to the ground beside her. The color drained from his face when he caught sight of the dark red blood that stained the pure white snow near Lil’s shoulder. She appeared to be fast asleep, and Rolfe wanted to reach down and shake her awake.

“She’s been hit!” Holly cried, moving aside so Sam could kneel beside his daughter.

“Where?” Sam asked, looking her over quickly.

“Shoulder.” Holly’s voice trembled.

Rolfe watched his wife’s eyes flutter open. He held his emotions rigidly in check, each flicker of her eyelids seeming like an eternity. He silently prayed that her injury would not be fatal. He would care for her, tend her, nurse her back to health if only he was given the chance.

“Help me up,” Lil said, her hand going to her husband’s arm and clutching it as if for strength and support.

“Are you certain—”

Lil cut in before he could finish. “Sit me up so that I can judge my condition.”

She sounded concerned, and her own worry didn’t sit well with Rolfe. He chose not to argue with her. He was confident of her skill in healing and, though worried about her condition, he bowed to her expertise.

Rolfe signaled with a nod to Sam to help him. Both men eased their arms beneath her, Rolfe being careful to avoid touching the shoulder that lay in the spreading pool of blood.

Lil winced and shut her eyes against the pain. Sitting up, she held firmly to the men’s arms. Light-headedness assaulted her, and for a brief moment she thought she’d pass out. She took a deep breath, expelled it slowly, and dropped her head forward. Finally feeling her steadiness return, she raised her head. “Is there an exit wound?”

She sounded so in control, so composed, while Rolfe felt his insides shattering into a million pieces. He looked at her shoulder and found two bullet holes, one in front and one in back near the top of her coat sleeve.

“Yes, but shouldn’t we clean the wound and stanch the flow of blood?” Rolfe queried anxiously. Bloody hell, she could bleed to death while they discussed her condition. They should be doing something—anything—rather than leaving her seated on the snow-covered ground.

“We ought to get you to the doc,” her father suggested.

“Agreed,” Rolfe echoed.

Lil looked from one to the other. ‘‘Then what are you two waiting for?”

Rolfe shook his head in exasperation, her father joining him as they gently lifted her to her feet.

Her footing was not what it should have been; she wobbled. Rolfe lifted her up in his arms—gently, to her amazement. His footsteps were firm and solid, the snow crunching loudly from his added burden as he hurried across the street to Doc’s office.

Holly rushed behind them as Sam reluctantly, and with a promise to hurry, raced off to lock up his prisoners.

Rolfe burst into Doc’s office, Lil being grateful to Holly for opening the door. She had feared that her husband would march right through it.

“Lil’s been shot. She’s bleeding profusely. Hurry,” he urged. He deposited her on the examining table and ordered Holly to help him remove Lil’s coat.

Lil started to protest his actions. He didn’t need to see the wound that lay beneath her coat. He would only worry more. She hesitated too long.

“Oh, my God!” Rolfe cried. “Do something!”

Lil looked at her shoulder. One sleeve of her white blouse was soaked dark red from shoulder to wrist. Experience had taught her never to judge a wound at first glance. She had seen almost bloodless wounds turn fatal.

“Hold your horses,” Doc said, approaching Lil with a pair of slim scissors.

“She’ll bleed to death if you don’t hurry, old man,” Rolfe criticized sharply.

Lil sent him a scathing look.

Insults be damned, Rolfe thought. His wife’s life was at stake. He didn’t care about anyone’s feelings. He wanted her tended to now!

Doc chuckled. “Mighty hard to see a loved one suffer.”

“You’re right about that. Now do something,” Rolfe urged, raking his hair with his fingers to busy them, afraid he’d strangle the doctor if he didn’t move faster. Bloody hell but he looked to be moving impossibly slowly.

Lil stiffened, not from Doc’s attention to her wound but from Rolfe’s response to Doc’s remark: “see a loved one suffer.” Was Rolfe’s uncharacteristic behavior due to his seeing a
loved one
suffer?

Doc’s probing fingers caused a pain to stab her arm, and she yelped in response.

“What are you doing to her?” Rolfe demanded, striding over to him like a general criticizing a foot soldier.

“Cleaning her off so I can see how much damage the bullet caused,” Doc explained patiently.

Damaged?
Good Lord, she’d been damaged! Rolfe swallowed back the painful lump in his throat. “How bad is it?”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” came the simultaneous reply from Doc and Lil.

“Nothing serious. The bullet just grazed her shoulder. Looks worse than it is,” Doc assured him. “I’ll have her cleaned off and bandaged in no time. She doesn’t even need stitches.”

“Thank God,” Holly sighed in relief.

“I’d say the fellow upstairs had a hand in this,” Doc said. “Where are your brains anyway, Lil, staying on the street when guns are pulled?”

Rolfe didn’t notice Lil’s brows shoot up at Doc. He was too busy thanking the man upstairs for answering his urgent prayers.

“You’re right, she should have known better,” Sam said, having heard Doc’s admonishment as he entered the room.

He walked over to Holly and waited beside her.

Doc continued. “Way better, especially since—”

“Did you lock those men up, Dad?” Lil blurted out her question, interrupting Doc.