Chapter 6
Thatcher knew he was delaying his return to the cabin, but a strange apprehension held him back.
He paced in front of the barn, the dog lying a few feet away and watching him like he was an idiot.
Thatcher had finished unsaddling the horses and tending to them long ago.
He’d also fed the sheep and goats and chickens.
He’d drawn fresh water from the well and refilled the watering troughs. He’d even brushed Rusty.
Thatcher heaved a sigh of frustration aimed at himself, then paused and stared through the darkness at the outline of the cabin across the yard. The light in the windows beckoned to him.
He wanted to go in and spend time with Amelia, especially after getting to know her throughout the evening and while on his call at the Darwins’ to deliver the puppies.
She was smart and determined and kind. She’d also been really helpful during the delivery, attentive to his every move and ready to hand him anything he needed, sometimes even before he asked.
She hadn’t been squeamish and had been more knowledgeable about birthing than he’d expected.
Apparently she’d had more experience with livestock than she’d communicated in her letters. In fact, there seemed to be a lot they hadn’t shared with each other.
He began pacing again in the grassy area that was flat and dead and damp after the snowfall last week. He wasn’t all that bothered by the new things coming to light about her. As he’d told her, they still had much to learn about each other.
No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was .
. . well, he had to clarify their arrangement, particularly for sleeping.
His stomach was tying in knots at the prospect of bringing it up, although he didn’t know why.
It wasn’t that hard to tell her he’d like to give them both time to grow comfortable with each other and even develop some affection before sharing the marriage bed.
After all, their relationship hadn’t followed the usual pattern of getting to know each other through courtship. So their marriage didn’t need to follow the usual pattern of consummating on their wedding night.
But he also didn’t know if he should put a timeframe on waiting.
Would a month be long enough? Should they wait two?
Or should he just leave it open and let feelings develop naturally?
If he did that, what if she was never ready?
What would he do then? He didn’t want to put off marital relations forever.
He’d developed a measure of self-control over the years and had done his best to respect the women who’d come and gone in his life.
He hadn’t been perfect and had gotten carried away a time or two with women who’d been willing partners, but he’d never been a womanizer.
He still wasn’t, and he planned to use the same self-control now with Amelia that had held him in good stead in the past.
“You’re overthinking this,” he whispered. “Just go in there and have an honest discussion about it.”
Before he could change his mind—or turn into a coward again—he forced his feet in the direction of the cabin.
With his heart pounding, he crossed the distance and entered without stopping, shutting the door firmly behind him and locking it, as though that would somehow force him to stay and talk through their unique marriage situation.
She was on the sofa, where he’d tucked her into the blankets. Both were still wrapped snugly around her body, but she’d lowered herself so that her head now lay on the armrest and her legs were curled up beside her.
At his entrance, she didn’t make a move, not even to stir. Had she fallen asleep?
He shrugged out of his duster and hat and hung them on the coat tree beside the door.
Then he stepped around the sofa so that he had a better view of her face.
Her eyes were closed, and her long lashes rested against her cheeks, which were flushed with a rosy glow—probably a result of the cold breeze during the ride home.
Her hair, with its mixture of brown and sun-kissed blond, was still fashionably styled the way it had been for the wedding, but more pieces had come loose and framed her face.
Her expression was peaceful, her breathing even, and her body relaxed beneath the thick layer of blankets. He was glad she could rest easy here. He hoped that meant she trusted him and already felt safe around him.
He watched her, taking advantage of her slumber to study her without her knowing it.
As with every time he looked at her face, he was struck by how pretty she was with her gently rounded features, full cheeks, and perfectly curved lips.
She was one of those exceptional beauties, the kind of woman who had the power to awe everyone around her.
Why had she ever called herself plain?
He still didn’t understand that. Maybe someday he’d ask her and then tell her how wrong she was. But for tonight, he would let her sleep right where she was without disturbing her.
He leaned down and pulled the blankets up to her chin, then wedged them more securely around her.
She stirred and shifted her head but didn’t open her eyes and awaken.
When he was certain she was warm and comfortable, he tended to the hearth fire and stove. Minutes later, he crawled into bed, extinguished the lantern on the bedside table, and leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head.
He stared at the ceiling through the darkness, contentedness falling over him. Who would have guessed this morning, as he’d lain in this exact spot feeling lonely and dejected, that by tonight he’d be a married man with a beautiful bride sleeping in the next room?
His pulse kicked up its pace. He was married. Finally. His life was turning around just the way he’d hoped when he’d moved to Colorado. And now he just needed to keep it headed in the right direction.
At a tapping, Thatcher jolted awake out of a deep sleep. Had someone knocked on the door?
He opened his eyes to find the bedroom awash with the light of day. If someone was there, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had a call at dawn. Animals and their problems didn’t wait for normal hours. In fact, they seemed to relish getting sick at the oddest times.
At another tap, tap, tap, he pushed up to his elbows.
Someone was at the door.
He threw back the covers, sat up, and glanced through the open door to the living area. He didn’t want anyone to wake Amelia up, so he hastily grabbed his trousers from the floor where he’d dropped them, stepped into them, and yanked them up.
As he stretched one suspender over his long-sleeve undershirt, he stepped out of the bedroom. He was lifting the other suspender but froze at the sight that met him.
Amelia was at the stove, shifting around eggs in one pan before flipping a griddle cake in another. She tapped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan to dislodge the eggs sticking to it with a tap, tap, tap.
Maybe the sound he’d heard a moment ago had just been Amelia.
The waft of bacon filled the air along with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Both made his stomach growl. More than that, the sight of her there at the stove made his heart do a strange flip.
Not only had he been waiting for a moment like this for so long, but she was beautiful even at the early hour, with her hair unbound and falling halfway down her back.
Without her coat or the blankets to cover her blouse and skirt, her womanly figure was very much on display through the garments, including a small swell where the baby was growing.
Someday, would he be able to cross over to her, wrap his arms around her from behind, and push aside her curtain of hair to kiss her neck? Would he be able to run his hands over her curvy hips and slide them up her ribs?
At just the prospect of doing so, heat spurted into his bloodstream, but he shook his head to free himself of the lustful thoughts. It was too early in their relationship for him to start thinking about her body and where he’d like to put his hands.
He cleared his throat quietly so that he wouldn’t scare her. “Good morning.”
She startled anyway, losing hold of the spoon in the eggs.
“Oh my.” She swiped the spoon back up and seemed to regain her composure before pivoting so that she could take him in—one of his suspenders up and the other now hanging by his side, and his trousers sagging low, revealing part of his underdrawers.
What was he doing standing there so indecently?
He fumbled for the suspender and tried to get his fingers to work properly as he shifted the suspender up.
On the one hand, there was nothing inappropriate about his appearance since they were married.
Even so, she was still mostly a stranger, and he didn’t want to overstep himself.
Her gaze lifted to his face and then to his hair. Her eyes rounded before she dropped her attention back to the pan. He caught sight of a smile that she seemed to be trying to hide.
“Go ahead.” He combed his fingers through the unruly mop of his wavy hair. “You can laugh. I know I look like a swamp monster when I wake up in the mornings.”
“A swamp monster?” She cast him another glance with a widening smile. “Yes, I can see the resemblance.”
Fresh warmth spilled through him, but this time bringing a pleasure that was different from the physical attraction he’d just been feeling.
He could get used to this early-morning jesting. He could also get used to seeing her every morning like this, wearing her hair down and cooking in the kitchen.
As though sensing the change in the direction of his thoughts, she dropped her attention back to the pans. “I wasn’t sure what time you usually arose, but I always made breakfast for my father at dawn.”