Elise wakened wrapped in her husband’s arms.
She couldn’t remember him coming to bed the night before, though she’d tried to stay awake. After donning a new nightgown, she’d brushed her hair, wishing she had a looking glass larger than the square shaving mirror tacked to the wall above the washstand. Still, she could understand Bowie not wanting a larger mirror, since he seemed so conscious of his scars. She slid into bed, wondering which side Bowie slept on, and trying to quell the flutters in her stomach and the trembles in her legs at the thought of sleeping in a man’s bed.
You are a married woman. Use some of that reason and logic you just gave Bowie and stop being so silly.
She yawned, her eyelids heavy. Would he come back? What if he stayed away all night and his family came to know of it. What would they think?
And then it was morning and she was waking up, snuggled against his side, warm and drowsy and safe. More comfortable than she could ever remember being. Her cheek rested against his shoulder, his arm held her close, and her hand lay on his broad chest, rising and falling, clocking his steady heartbeat. She had clearly crossed the centerline of the bed. And if he awoke, how was she going to explain that? But it felt so good.
Don’t move. Hang on to this moment as long as possible.
Sunlight slanted across the bed, so it must be well after time to rise, but she couldn’t make herself stir. His warmth and masculine scent wrapped around her, and she breathed deeply. It had been a long time since she felt this protected and cherished. Her life had been bereft of care and tenderness since her parents’ deaths, and she’d been so alone all those years.
But now she had a husband, and an extended family, and a place to put down roots. “Good morning.” His voice rumbled under her ear, deep and raspy but tinged with humor.
How long had he been awake?
She pressed herself up on her elbow, looking at his face with a gasp, mortified to be caught cuddled up against him.
For the first time since she’d removed his bandages in the hospital so long ago, she saw him without his eye patch. The place where his eye should be was just an empty socket, dry and healed. She felt a rush of pride that he had recovered so well, and that she had a small part in that recovery. Now if only she could find a way to melt into the mattress until she recovered from the shock of being caught in his arms.
He tensed at her gasp. His face hardened, and he yanked his arm from around her, rolling away, slipping into his pants, reaching for the eye patch on the bedside table, and securing it before turning around.
She put her fingers to her lips, chagrinned at having been so bold as to move off her side of the bed, and even more scandalized that he’d awakened before she could sneak back onto her own. But she hadn’t done it consciously. Should she apologize? Say it was an accident? If she did, would he believe her, and would it embarrass him further? Before she could say anything, he reached for his shirt on the chair back, his movements hurried and jerky.
“It’s late, and we have a lot to do today.” He stuffed his shirt into his pants and buttoned it up, looking out the window. He stomped his feet into his boots, his face hard, accusatory even. “We’re moving to the new house. I’ll bring a wagon around to the back door. Pa’s loaning us some things until you can order whatever furniture you want.” The last words were said as he closed the door behind himself.
Elise dropped back onto the bed, feeling hollow and confused. Would she ever really know this complicated man? Would he ever be at ease around her? She hadn’t meant to violate their agreement and make him uncomfortable, but she couldn’t deny how bereft she felt without his arms around her.
Perla gave her a knowing smile when Elise came downstairs so late. “I kept some breakfast for you. Do not be nervous, we have had many newlyweds here this year. Bowie has gone to get the wagon. I have been packing some things for you to take, dishes and food and such.”
“Thank you.” Elise’s cheeks felt hot, but she was grateful for the housekeeper’s prattle. She ate quickly, and within the hour, she was seated next to Bowie in the wagon and headed to her new home.
“I’ve arranged for someone to take you into town this afternoon, after you’ve seen the place, so you can start your shopping.” Bowie flicked the reins.
Her eyebrows rose. “You won’t come with me?”
He shook his head, his dark hair shielding his face. “I told you, I never go to town if I can help it. You’ll do fine. I don’t care what you buy.”
Behind them in the wagon lay a bedstead and mattress, a table and chairs, and a bureau. The barest of necessities until new furnishings arrived.