The Governess Bride: A Sweet Mail Order Bride Historical (3 page)

* * *

Clara hadn't thought it possible to be this happy. She adored Juniper Creek. She adored Charlie and Abe, and she … Well, she didn't know what exactly it was that she had begun to feel for Gideon.
She just knew that for a long time now, when he'd walk through the door, her heart had taken to skipping a beat or two. Even now, she realized, she was sitting fireside working on two small quilts for the boys in an attempt to distract herself from glancing at the door – from knowing that the man of the house was finally home.

A moment later, she started a little in her chair and clutched at the pile of soft fabric scraps in her lap. It was him. Mr McCabe.
He was home
. The door swung open.

"Evening Clara." Gideon smiled warmly at her, and Clara flushed rose pink.
That warm, low voice of his.

"Evening Mr McCabe. Are you hungry?" she asked, rising to greet him. "There's fresh bread. Stew. Coffee?"

"Sounds good," he said, smiling warmly at her and crossing the room to where she stood in order to stoke the fire. "Boys asleep?"

"They are. I think I baked them into a state of exhaustion," Clara laughed. Gideon laughed too, remembering Clara's first efforts all those months ago.
A lot of things had changed since then.

He took a step closer to her, and Clara felt a clutch of butterflies take flight in her chest to have him so near.

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand to her face. He hesitated before touching her, knowing by now she startled easily. "You have some flour... Just here..." he said gently, brushing a thumb carefully over her cheekbone.

"Thank you..." Clara said quietly, lifting her eyes to his, longing for him to keep his hand there a moment.

As if seeing into her heart, Gideon did so, so that the two of them stood entirely still, face to face in the dusky firelight while all around them the world lay still under its blanket of snow, and seemed to be holding its breath.

It was Gideon who stepped away, breaking the spell. He moved to the table and picked up one of Clara's books.

He turned the hefty book over in his hands and inspected the title.
The Rearing and Management of Children
. He looked at Clara and smile mischievously. He'd guessed right all that time ago. Clara hadn't known the first thing about raising children. But that didn't seem important anymore. She knew how to love them, and in his book, that was everything.

"So most of what you knew about child rearing when you first arrived was gleaned from this book. Am I right?" he teased.

Clara blushed. "Some. All right. A lot," she shot back, shyly. "Are you angry?"

"Angry? How in the world could I be angry? The boys plain adore you. In my book, that's worth its weight in gold."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. The best way to care for them is to get to know them, and that's what you've done. I learned the hard way that Charlie and Abe might look the same, but in fact they're just plain opposites. Have you noticed that when Charlie falls over he just won't tolerate any fussing? He likes to manage his hurt on his own. He takes after me. Abe on the other hand – well, he's just like his pa was. He'll scream the place down until he gets a pair of arms around him."

Right on cue, as if to illustrate the fact, Abe at that moment waddled sleepily into the room, stumbled onto his chubby little knees, and sent a heartbroken wail skywards. Gideon quirked a knowing smile at Clara before scooping the little one up in his big strong arms. Clara's tummy did a little flip to see it. She admired the man for his strength and for his kindness. For the way he'd taken on the rearing of his two nephews without a single complaint. For rolling up his sleeves and getting his hands dirty – whether he knew what he was doing or not.

Clara couldn't help but smile at him as he held and comforted Abe. "You love them very much, Mr McCabe, don't you?" she offered quietly.

Gideon turned to look at her.

"Are you
ever
going to start calling me Gideon?"

Clara smiled shyly at him. "You love them very much, don't you Gideon?" she said again, shyer this time.

Gideon grinned at her, turning his attention to Abe and back to her again.

"A whole lot, Clara," he smiled, "A whole lot."

* * *

Gideon shot her a sideways look. Couldn't resist it. Couldn't resist
her
, truth be told. There was a sunbeam playing around her eyes. Hazel eyes. Pretty eyes. But eyes that were so often sad, too, and he didn't know why.
No sadness there today, though.
A sudden flare of gladness about that shot through his chest. Could it be that being here – with him, with the boys… Could it be that some of that sadness, whatever its cause, had ebbed away? Had been replaced by some kind of happiness?

It surprised Gideon to note how very much he wanted that to be the case.

"You're kind of cheerful today?" Gideon dangled the half-statement, half-question at her. It was unlike him to do so, and it surprised him to find it made him smile.
She
made him smile. And all the more when she shot one of her pretty smiles back at him. Such a warm smile, too. It went all the way to her eyes – and that simple fact had a flare of something he couldn't name searing through his chest.

"I am," she beamed at him, "I am indeed cheerful." Gideon watched her. Saw her turn her face out to the breeze, taking in the big sky, the endless horizon, as she did so.

"Isn't this God's own country, Mr McCabe?" she murmured quietly – to the breeze, as much as to him. Gideon's allowed his eyes to linger on her for a touch longer than he knew he should. And so he forced his eyes back to the horizon himself, and together they rode home, neither saying a word. Neither of them feeling the need to.

* * *

The next morning, before heading out, Gideon and Clara ate breakfast together.

"More coffee?"

"Thank you, Clara" Gideon waited for her to finish pouring, and then he gently caught her arm. A jolt went through her, and it took her a moment to name the feeling.
It wasn't fear.
She knew Gideon would never harm a hair on his head.
It was longing.

Clara froze. She couldn't – daren't – lift her lashes and meet his gaze in that moment.

"Clara, I – "

But whatever Gideon had been going to say, for reasons known only to him – he chose not to say it. Gently, he released his hold on her arm. He hesitated a moment, and then stood up abruptly, saying simply "Best get to work," before crushing his hat onto his head, and striding out the door.

Clara watched him go, feeling something unknown, something deep inside her wilt at the loss of his touch.

* * *

Gideon rode fast and hard across the prairie. The brightness of the morning mocking his annoyance with himself. Mocking the battle that raged between his heart and his head. This stage of his life was about setting up the ranch and settling his nephews. He did not need the complications of any kind of romance. Maybe some years down the line he'd find himself a wife. But not –.
Oh just admit it
, Gideon told himself,
you've loved her from the moment you set eyes on her. And while you're at it, admit that you'd move heaven and earth not to lose her, either.

* * *

The day was coming to a close, and he was impatient to get home. But Gideon hesitated before mounting his horse. A day alone with his thoughts had helped him get a few things straight. He wiped the sweat from his brow and levelled his eyes on the wide open space before him. Wildflower prairie – as far as the eye could see, and then some. Strange to note a change in how he viewed the vastness of it all these days.

Not so long ago the sight of these vast lands and skies had filled him with a sense of excitement. Possibilities.
So what had changed?
Why was it that lately when he looked out to the horizon, what had once thrilled him now had him feeling flat. What did you call this? he wanted to know. He saw and heard nothing but the wind stirring the grass. And he knew he had his answer:
lonesomeness
. The feeling he'd been struggling to name for Lord knew how long – the feeling he'd push aside every night and every morning – and countless times throughout the day… He was lonesome. In some deep and hidden place, in some part of him he didn't care to share with anyone – he was lonesome.

Not so long ago, he'd thought his cup was full. But with Clara's arrival in his life – in all of their lives –  everything fell into place.
Clara
. There'd been a yawning hole in his heart, in his soul. Only now did he see that it had always been there. Only now did he understand why he had come up with one hundred and one reasons not to marry. He got it now. Clara was his missing piece. Clara was the answer to that lonesomeness in the deepest, quietest part of his soul.

* * *

Back at the ranch house Gideon stood quietly in the doorway; watching, listening. Little Charlie was sleeping sweetly in his crib. But little Abe had been restless the past hour or so. Clara was there, kneeling beside him, smoothing his little brow, murmuring one of her lullabies, "And so to sleep, my little dear, May your dreams be sweet, May the Lord be near, May your sleep be blessed by angels' charms, When you wake, you will find my loving arms…" She was still singing quietly, even as she backed delicately out of the room.

"Oh!" she gasped, finding that she had backed all the way into Gideon's arms.

"Sorry," Gideon whispered, his hands catching around her waist for the briefest moment. "I thought you knew I was here."

Though it pained him to do so – though his instinct was to pull her even closer to him – Gideon removed his hands and took a respectful step away from her, ever aware of her guardedness around a man.

"There's something I've been wanting to say, Clara…" he said in quiet tones. "And I should have said it by now, but I haven't – and for that, I'm sorry…" A muscle worked along Gideon's jaw as a wave of feeling coursed through him. "The little ones – Charlie and Abe – they've found… Well they've found an angel in you. And I want to thank you for that." Gideon shifted his weight from foot to foot and cleared his throat. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you for being here…" Gideon paused then, dropping his gaze a moment before bringing his eyes back to hers. "And thank you, Clara. For loving them."

A long silence passed between them while the eyes of each searched the eyes of the other.
Searching. Seeking. Wanting.

"Loving them is the easiest thing in the world," she whispered, her eyes bright with tears; her voice as quiet as the moon. She wanted to add:
Loving you is the easiest thing in the world
– but she dared not; she
could
not.

"Hungry?" she said instead, with a shy smile.

"Yes ma'am," Gideon smiled back at her, a little shy looking himself.

Gideon followed her to the kitchen. His heart was fit to burst out of his chest. Because he wanted to tell her that
he'd
found an angel in her too. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her then and there. He wanted, above all things, to know if she could love him. But he hadn't the words.
He hadn't the words.

* * *

Back in the kitchen, Gideon reached his arm past Clara to hook up a lantern. To his confusion, and then to his horror, Clara flinched instinctively away from him.

"Clara?" His voice was gentle. "Clara, you – you surely couldn't think that I would—?"

"No! No, not you, Gideon…"