Chapter 17
Seventeen
T he coming night would be a very long one.
Jackson stood at the window of the room Rawhide Ralph had given them and peered through the darkness toward the river. Although he couldn’t see the steamboat, he knew it was secured at the wharf, and it was beckoning to him, even chastising him, to bed down on one of the decks. The autumn night would be cold, but the frigid temperature would surely cool down his overheated body and keep him from doing something with Sage he’d regret in the morning.
Not that he had any intention of taking advantage of her or the situation. But the entire marriage charade had gone from bad to worse with every passing hour.
The moment he’d stepped inside the room that was no bigger than a closet, he’d halted abruptly and nearly demanded more spacious accommodations. But Rawhide Ralph had been waiting in the hallway for his reaction with such anticipation, Jackson had known that this was the best the fellow had to offer.
Now Jackson was stuck for the night in a tiny room with a bed that could hold two people…if both people were small children. With the night table, a dresser, and a trunk filling the rest of the room—along with their luggage—there was no floor space left available for a man of his size.
Behind him, Sage was attempting to change out of her garments into her nightgown. But from all her shifting and rustling, he guessed even the smallest movement in the tight confines was challenging.
He’d wanted to step into the hallway to give her more privacy, but with the sound of footsteps coming and going outside the door, he refused to leave her alone for even a few seconds.
“I’m almost done,” she said breathlessly, as if she was hurrying.
“I beg your forgiveness that I am not able to give you more privacy.” He apologized again as he’d already done several times.
“We’ll make do.” Her whisper held a note of embarrassment that hadn’t gone away since they’d entered their room and Rawhide Ralph had wished them a good night with a vulgar wink.
“I can put out the lantern,” Jackson offered once more.
“I trust you, Jackson.”
He was glad she’d kept a level head throughout the whole ordeal, explaining to him several times that she wasn’t bothered by the accommodations, that she’d had far inferior sleeping quarters during her life.
The real issue wasn’t the tight space or small bed. The real issue was that they were not man and wife and shouldn’t be in the compromising situation at all.
But what choice did he have? He couldn’t very well go out and confess that he and Sage were traveling companions and friends and nothing more. They had already established that fabricating a marriage was the best option available to them at this point. And after the men’s reaction to her beauty earlier—the way everyone had stared at her in the dining room—he felt even more responsible for her well-being and making sure she wasn’t sullied.
Caleb’s warning from the previous night echoed in his head. If you kiss her again and don’t marry her, I’ll track you down and make you do it.
Staying together like this ranked with kissing in terms of intimacy. If Caleb could see them now, he’d make them get married.
Jackson’s chest tightened. Should he just wed her? Would that be best? He doubted she would agree to it. Besides, he didn’t want her to feel coerced into being with him.
Behind him, the bed creaked.
The very idea of her sliding onto the mattress and between the sheets in her nightgown sent a shot of heat into his blood.
With a rapid shake of his head, he closed his eyes against any desire for her. He couldn’t let himself think about her as a beautiful and desirable woman. Not only wasn’t it appropriate at a time like this, but it wasn’t appropriate ever.
He had to think of Augusta and how to find her. He’d let it be known that he was searching for his sister and was offering a reward for any information about her. But no one recognized the description he’d given of Augusta.
“I’m done,” Sage whispered.
He blew out a breath and straightened his shoulders before turning around. He looked everywhere but at her in the bed. His gaze bounced to the door, to the neatly folded stack of her clothing on the dresser, to the hairbrush next to it, and to her shoes lined up next to her bag.
He allowed himself a short glance at her.
She was sitting against the metal headboard, the covers pulled up to her chin and her eyes wide upon him—those beautiful blue eyes that were so perceptive, that saw him for who he was and accepted him with all his flaws but also challenged him to be better.
“You have such pretty eyes.” He blurted the words before he could stop himself. The moment they were out, he bent toward the lantern on the bedside table and snuffed it.
Blessed darkness descended over the room, hiding her, hiding him, hiding all the emotions he didn’t want her to see. The truth was, no matter how much he might be telling himself that he wasn’t interested in Sage and couldn’t be with a woman anytime soon, he wasn’t listening to the messages. His interest in her continued to manifest itself every time he looked at her.
He hovered beside the bed, both angst and anticipation swirling low inside him. What should he do now? She’d said she trusted him. The question was, did he trust himself to lie down on the bed beside her and sleep the whole night through without touching or reaching for her even just a little?
With as attracted as he was to her, he wasn’t sure he could do it.
But he had to. He needed to prove to her and to himself that he was a man of honor, that he respected and valued her enough not to use her in any way at all.
“You may as well lie down,” she whispered, her voice strained. “You can’t stand there all night.”
“Perhaps I can.”
She huffed out a small laugh. “I won’t let you. If anyone should be giving up the bed for the night, it should be me. I’m only the hired help.”
At her self-deprecation, irritation rose swiftly inside. “Don’t say that.” His whisper came out harsh. “I thought we already established that you are more than a servant.”
“Let’s be honest, Jackson.” She spoke in her no-nonsense way. “I’m of the laboring class and you’re practically nobility. Pretending otherwise won’t change the way of things.”
The social hierarchies had been transplanted from England to the colonies, and he’d lived a distinguished and privileged life during his years in North America the same way he had in England.
He’d never once even thought about the class distinctions, and he certainly hadn’t challenged them the way Augusta had. Why hadn’t he?
Maybe it was past time to do so. His mind raced in a dozen different directions at the implications of living more simply and fairly and without the airs of his class.
The bed squeaked again. Was Sage getting up in order to give him the bed? He’d never allow it. “No!” The one word came out a whisper-roar as his inner beast reared up in protest.
The shifting halted.
“You must not vacate the bed for me. If you do, I shall toss you right back.”
“Toss me?” Her whisper held the note of sassiness he liked. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Would you like to test me?”
“Maybe I will.”
He waited, his muscles tense.
She didn’t move.
Without giving either of them a chance to do anything that would be unseemly, he lowered himself to the edge of the bed, perching on the mattress as far from her as he could without sliding off. “Retire to your previous spot. I shall sleep on top of the covers.”
She scooted away from him until a thumping told him she’d probably flattened herself against the wall, clearly trying to make as much room for him—or between them—as possible.
He waited, counting to fifteen before inching back until his whole body was on top of the bed, only a hair’s breadth from hers. Even though he tried not to brush against her, his leg grazed hers, and he shifted so that he was partially off the bed.
An inner growl of frustration pushed for release, but he swallowed it. He’d believed the bed was big enough for two small children. He’d been wrong. It was only big enough for one tiny infant.
He held himself rigidly. If he relaxed and spread out, he would end up touching her, and he didn’t want that. Yet, how could he go the whole night without relaxing and inadvertently brushing against her?
Perhaps if he forced himself to stay awake? The trouble was, he hadn’t slept well the previous night on Salt Spring Island in the barn because he’d been preoccupied with Sage and the kiss. Now after the long day of traveling, sleeplessness and exhaustion were catching up to him.
He shifted, trying to get somewhat comfortable, which was difficult to do with half of his body about to fall off the bed. As he leaned his head back into a pillow, his arm skimmed against hers.
Her breathing turned shallow and quick, and tension seemed to radiate from her.
This wasn’t going well. His presence on the bed was agitating her.
He started to push back up. “This isn’t working?—”
“Don’t go.” Her hand snagged onto his arm, holding him in place.
He halted at an awkward angle. “You’re certain?”
“This is just one night,” she whispered. “And we’re both honorable.”
He didn’t exactly feel honorable at the moment, not after putting her into this awkward situation.
“We will go to sleep, and in the morning, we’ll never mention this night again to each other or anyone else.” From the resolve in her voice, he guessed she believed they could do that. Maybe she could. But he wouldn’t be able to forget spending a night in the same bed with her any more than he could forget kissing her.
The kissing had been the highlight of the week. In fact, the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d realized that nothing else in his life quite compared to it. She’d been so warm and soft and welcoming…
He closed his eyes and bit back a groan. He couldn’t let himself think about the kiss again. Especially while he was lying so close to her.
He had to get the focus off himself and think about her. Perhaps if he asked her questions? Maybe that would distract him? He scrambled to find something to talk about with her. But what? He couldn’t get his mind to center on any other topic besides kissing and lying in bed.
“Your family. Your father.” He fairly barked the words in his need to get the attention on something else. “Tell me more about him.”
“If you’ll do likewise.”
He hesitated. He wasn’t fond of thinking about his father, much less talking about him. But he couldn’t ask her to share personally if he wasn’t willing to do the same. “Very well. I shall tell you about mine if you tell me about yours.”
After a moment, Sage began to share about her father, his work at the mill, his sweet relationship with her mother, the onset of his white lung disease, the danger of him continuing to breathe in the dust of the factory.
The longer she talked, the more the tension eased from his body. Not only did it help distract him from their predicament, but he liked hearing about her family and what her life had been like before she’d come to the colony.
When she finished, he answered her questions about his father. Although he didn’t want to reveal too much, he found himself eventually telling her about his strained relationship starting when he’d attended Mount Radford School in Exeter from a very young age and then had been apprenticed to an engineering firm by the time he was fifteen.
Even then he’d felt the pressure to do more, and he’d tried to follow in his father’s footsteps, had journeyed with his father from England to Rupert’s Land to work with the Hudson’s Bay Company in York Factory.
The company had given him the job of surveying for roads and bridges, and he’d liked what he did. He just hadn’t been able to please his father. His father had criticized him for not venturing out far enough, for not being willing to take more risks, for getting distracted too easily, and for at least a dozen other things.
Finally, Jackson had taken the Hudson’s Bay Company’s offer to move to Vancouver Island. The gold rush had just started, and the governor of the new colony had wanted someone who could help with the development of the roads, primarily to make the transport of gold more accessible. Jackson had kept busy over the past years and had gained a reputation as an intelligent and industrious engineer. Then the accident had happened…
Thankfully by that point, his father had already moved back to England to be with his mother, who’d been ill. Otherwise, his father probably would have traveled to Victoria to interfere in Jackson’s business.
As it was, Augusta had come to interfere, and Augusta was infinitely easier to endure than Father.
Jackson hadn’t wanted the same life as his father, hadn’t wanted to explore, hadn’t wanted danger, hadn’t wanted new adventures. He would have been content working as an engineer in a simple position for his whole life. But his father had claimed that the time in the far wilderness outpost of the colony would turn Jackson into a strong man—a man just like him.
“It didn’t work,” Jackson whispered, staring through the dark up at the ceiling. “I didn’t turn out to be like him in any way, and he cannot understand or accept that I’m different.”
“Even after all you’ve accomplished with your engineering feats?”
Jackson’s mind returned to the last time he’d been with his father in the colony’s government building. Jackson had just returned from a wilderness expedition, surveying routes for a new road to an important trading post. He’d failed to find a suitable and safe route, and his father had called him a coward for not exploring one of the more difficult areas. “He only sees all my mistakes.”
“Then you must take after him.” Her whisper was soft but firm. “Because you see only your mistakes too.”
Jackson’s thoughts came to a halt. Was she right? Did he only see his mistakes?
“God has gifted you with so many incredible designs that I’ve seen,” she continued. “And you probably have dozens more that I haven’t seen.”
She wasn’t wrong on that score. He did have more tucked away in cabinets and trunks that could benefit from her organizational skills.
“With so many excellent ideas and projects that you can give to the world, you’re focused on the one that you’ve gotten wrong instead of all the ones you could do right.”
Was that what had happened? Had he turned into a version of his father even though he’d never wanted to? Was he just as critical and self-focused? How had this happened?
He couldn’t let go of the question, even as she moved on to ask him about other things. They talked more about his family and Augusta, as well as her family and siblings. He asked her again about loaning the money for their passage, and this time she didn’t immediately object to the idea, probably because she’d learned that Willow hadn’t been able to save much yet and was realizing how long it could take before they earned enough for the rest of the family.
They whispered in the dark for a while, probably a few hours, until at last Sage’s yawns grew more frequent and her whispers softer, and she faded into silence. From her steady breathing, he knew she’d fallen asleep. Even though he regretted not having her companionship, he didn’t begrudge her the sleep. After all, not everyone could survive on a few hours of sleep the way he did.
With his eyes closed and his arms crossed behind his head, thoughts of her ran through his mind and filled every corner. He’d never had such long conversations with anyone, especially a woman. But he found that the equal sharing and listening had been pleasant, more than he could have anticipated, so much so he wanted to talk to her again.
Tomorrow. He tried to find satisfaction in that. He’d get to spend tomorrow talking with her again.
If only he didn’t wish he could keep talking with her forever.