Grady
Anna did nothing to prepare me for her cousin’s beauty. Absolutely nothing. Rose is tall enough to look me in the eye, with long dark brown curls. She wears a pale blue veil that matches her dress in an attempt to mask her scars.
Scars I didn’t notice at first. Her large brown eyes met mine, and everything else in the world ceased to exist. I didn’t greet anyone else getting off the stagecoach. My first impression with potential future customers laid to the wayside and I can’t be bothered to care.
My angel speaks softly with all the mannerisms of the elite upper crust of society, but there is heat in her gaze when she looks at me.
Our marriage will not be the polite partnership I envisioned.
She takes my arm, her bosom pressing against my forearm with every step. I know from the way her breath catches that she notices the slight touch. And yet, she doesn’t move away.
I make polite conversation on the way to the church. I know I do. It’s a large part of my business, talking to people. For the life of me, I can’t remember a word I’ve said the second it leaves my mouth.
“Rose!” Anna shouts when we come into view. Her smile is bright and warm, at odds with the stern frown her husband sports.
My companion waits until we’re closer before she replies, too prim and proper to shout. She’s a reserved woman and that will serve her well as the wife of a merchant.
Even if I’ve already skipped the wedding in my mind and taken her back to our bed. I have every intention of stripping her of her tightly laced dress and her reserved manner.
The cousins embrace, Rose’s polite demeanor slips for just a moment as a single tear slides down her cheek.
She greets Sheriff Benson with a polite nod, but her face brightens when her eyes land on Keegan. The baby sleeping in his father’s arms has the same effect on all the townsfolk. He’s the youngest of the local children, and a perfect angel according to his mother.
Henry tells me that the little lad is a born troublemaker. He keeps his parents up at night, but sleeps peacefully during the day. Anna and Henry both have the dark shadows underneath their eyes that all new parents wear like medals.
“You don’t have to marry him.”
The three of us swing our gazes to Sheriff Henry Benson, the man I thought was my friend.
“He’s a decent bloke,” Henry quickly adds. “But you don’t have to marry the man, if you don’t want to.”
“You can stay with us,” Anna says. “No one’s going to force you to get married.”
Rose’s soft brown eyes slide to me, and despite the urge to yell at the couple I thought were my friends the heat in her eyes convinces me to remain silent.
I’ll respect her decision. Even if she rejects me and marries another man. I’ll respect it.
If she says no, it won’t just sting. It will hollow me out.
I didn’t expect to want her this badly. I expected duty. Companionship. A partnership that would grow with time.
Instead, I’m standing here hoping foolishly that she chooses me.
“I’ll marry him.”
Tension I didn’t feel melts off my bones. Since she stepped off the stagecoach I’ve been hers. I didn't think that our connection what form so quickly or so deeply. But here I am. Hers for the taking.
“Shall we?” I ask indicating the church and offering her my arm once more.
The wedding is simple. Henry’s small family watches as Father Adams leads us in our vows. The words are plain, and the bride is wearing a pale lavender dress that is stained and wrinkled from traveling.
Standing across from Rose it’s the wedding of my dreams.
“You may kiss the bride,” Father Adams says.
I lift the veil up with reverence.
Rose tips her chin up, her face tilting slightly so that her unscarred cheek is presented to me. I won’t have it. My knuckle taps her chin, her lips parting in surprise a split second before I cover them with mine.
Soft and supple, her lips give way under mine. She’s got a spine made of steel, but her kiss is sweeter than sin. If not for our audience, I wouldn’t stop at one. I’d kiss her until my heart and lungs gave out.
It takes Father Adams and Henry clearing their throats for me to break the kiss. Rose’s brown irises are swallowed by her pupils, and her lips are slick and pink from my kiss.
“Congratulations!” Anna cheers.
Keegan wakes up, his lungs louder than the howling winter winds. Anna and Henry wince, making their apologies as they rock their son and leave the church.
“Sunday dinner,” Anna calls out before they exit through the heavy oak doors.
We say our goodbyes to Father Adams, and with my new bride clinging to my arm we make our way to the house. It’s a small house in town with a decent sized yard. Nothing too fancy, but it has three bedrooms and indoor plumbing, which is more than some houses in Porterville can claim.
I’m damn proud of it. When I first set up my store, I didn’t have the funds to buy a house. I slept in the backroom using sacks of flour as pillows. I paid for that house five years ago with profits from the store.
I want her to like it.
She takes it in quietly, brown eyes sweeping the space. It’s not much. Furniture I ordered from catalogs, and little else. I know women like to personalize their homes. They match fabrics, collect knick knacks, and add splashes of color to every room.
I should know, they buy it all from me.
“Anything you don’t like, we can change,” I tell her. “Anything at all.”
She’s distracted, walking through the living room and into the kitchen as I trail after her. Remembering the fabric Henry gave me, I offer it to her and watch her eyes light up in appreciation.
I can hardly hold a grudge against the man when he’s the reason my wife’s smiling. Even if he did offer her a way out.
“Let’s get you settled in,” I tell her. She follows behind me as I show her the bedrooms.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to share my bed,” she tells me when I show her the second room. “Either of these will be fine.”
Her words bring me up short. There’s not a married couple I know who would ever sleep separate. I’m damn sure not going to be one of them.
“We’ll share a room. A bed.”
She avoids my gaze as we move on to the main bedroom. It’s the biggest of the three and I’ve gone to great lengths to make it feel warm and welcoming while the rest of the house feels sterile.
“I’d just rather not know when you come home late.”
She emphasizes the last word like it has a dual meaning. One I’m meant to understand but for the life of me, I don’t.
“I keep regular business hours.”
Rose looks at me with exasperation. Her lips turn down in the most delightful little pout.
“Grady, you know what I mean.”
Her eyebrows rise high on her forehead. I’m just glad she’s no longer shying away from me.
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
She huffs a loud sigh, her hands landing on her hips.
“I’m not a child. I understand that married men visit brothels just as often as the single men do. I’ll not hold it against you. I just don’t want to know about it.”
“I won’t be visiting anyone else’s bed,” I assert. She doesn’t seem convinced, so I switch tactics. “Do you want children?”
She blinks. Then she blinks again.
“Well, yes I suppose.”
“There are no stray children to adopt in Portersville,” I tell my wife slowly. Odd that she would understand brothels and not how children are conceived.
“Orphans,” she mutters. “Don’t talk about them as if they are feral dogs.”
“My apologies.”
“Rose, I want to sleep with you.”
She stares straight ahead. It’s as if I haven’t spoken a word or she’s gone deaf.
“As husband and wife,” I clarify.
“I’ll wear a veil,” Rose says in a quiet voice.