Chapter 11 #3
Wyatt placed her hand in the crook of his arm and escorted her from the town square.
He helped her into her seat, then climbed onto his own.
Picking up the reins, he glanced in her direction, happy she was no longer frowning.
Even better, the tears that had made her eyes shine seemed to have disappeared as well.
“Are you ready?”
She gave a quick nod but didn’t speak. It was just as well.
She appeared a little stunned, which was fine.
He was still a little stunned, too. What made him offer to be her pretend husband?
He couldn’t, or maybe wouldn’t would be the better word, answer the question.
He just knew he didn’t want her to leave Serenity.
He rather enjoyed seeing her, spending time with her.
He convinced himself that he was helping her out just as he would any other friend.
He brought the wagon to a halt in front of the parlor house, jumped from his seat, then ran around to her side and helped her down. Several horses stood lined up at the hitching post. A few of them snorted, but otherwise, didn’t seem bothered by either the wagon or them. “I’ll help you pack.”
“There really isn’t much.” She led him up the porch steps then stopped in front of the door.
“I’ll help you anyway.”
Sheridan gave him a slight nod then opened the door. “If you insist.”
The parlor was empty, but he could hear moans coming from the upper floor.
She stiffened beside him, and color highlighted her cheeks.
She said nothing though as she led him upstairs to her room, her footsteps quick, like she couldn’t wait to get inside, away from the moans and groans and occasional laughter.
He wasn’t quite sure what he expected—perhaps crimson and gold and heavy, dark furniture—but it wasn’t this comfortable, homey room filled with flowers, delicate furnishings, bright sunlight, and all the creature comforts.
There was even a patchwork quilt on the bed, the colors vibrant despite its obvious age.
Someone had worked hard on it. Josie? Or had Josie bought it from Tresia?
He watched her pull an old valise from the bottom of the armoire in the corner and open it on top of the beautiful quilt. “Do you have another bag?”
She nodded quickly, then rummaged around the bottom of the armoire again, retrieving a soft-sided leather suitcase. She put that on the bed, too.
“What’s going on?” Mrs. Gallagher stood in the open doorway, huffing and puffing from her climb up the stairs. She twisted her hands in her apron.
“I’m going to stay at Stone Creek for a little while,” Sheridan admitted, even as she pulled some fancy silk and lace undergarments from a drawer, folded them neatly and placed them into the open valise.
“I see. An’ what are ya doin’ that for?” The woman stepped into the room, her gaze falling on him and remaining there. There was a sparkle in Mrs. Gallagher’s eyes, but he couldn’t fathom if it was a good thing or not.
“Odette and Aunt Estelle are coming here.” Sheridan explained matter-of-factly, though he could hear the tension in her voice.
“Josie’s mother?” Mrs. Gallagher’s face lost all color, not even her cheeks remained red.
“They want to take me back to New Orleans, whether I want to go or not. Wyatt is helping me.” Sheridan looked at him with what he thought was gratitude. And maybe something more. “We’re going to tell them we’re married.”
“Oh. Well then.” The color returned to Mrs. Gallagher’s cheeks and a big smile lit her face. “Let me help you.”
Seeing that Sheridan and Mrs. Gallagher had packing her clothing under control, Wyatt wandered over to the dressing table.
Surely, she’d want her personal things. He fingered the embossing on the back of the brush, and closed his eyes for a moment, imagining her gently pulling the bristles through her long, blonde hair.
The vision in his head had his body reacting in ways that surprised him.
He took a deep breath in order to control that reaction.
It wouldn’t do for her to see him ‘excited.’
Once more under control of himself, he packed her brush, comb, and mirror, then picked up a crystal bottle and sniffed. The fragrance she wore tickled his nose. He turned the bottle, looking for a label or even perhaps an engraved name, but there was none. “Do you want to pack this?”
Sheridan folded a sheer, thin nightgown as she looked at him and the bottle in his hand.
“Yes, of course. It’s my one indulgence.
Madame Declan formulated the scent especially for me.
She has a little shop in the French Quarter, but she came to the school once to give a lecture to the girls.
She never told me what was in it.” She shrugged.
“A mix of flowers, I assume. Maybe a little civet musk? I don’t know, but I never go anywhere without it. ”
He carefully placed the bottle in the bottom of the soft-sided valise amongst her other personal possessions.
He stood back and watched them pack the rest of the clothes then snap the suitcase closed. “Do you have everything you need?”
“I think so.”
Barrie met them at the bottom of the stairs. Her gaze went from him to Sheridan, then to the luggage in both their hands, then finally back to Sheridan, where it remained. “What’s happening? Are you leaving?”
“Just for a little bit. My grandmother is coming to take me back home.”
Barrie tilted her head to the side as her gaze continued to focus on Sheridan. “And you don’t want to go.”
Sheridan shook her head. “I’ll be staying with Mr. MacLean. We’re pretending to be married. We’re hoping that will change Odette’s and Aunt Estelle’s mind about me staying here. I’m hoping they’ll leave once they see that I’m happy.”
She smiled, too, almost as big as Mrs. Gallagher. “Good luck,” she said then chuckled as her gaze swept over him. She must have thought the idea was a good one, because she moved out of the way and continued up the stairs, her laughter trailing behind her.
“What was that all about?”
Again, Sheridan shook her head. “I don’t know. She had a funny look on her face.” She turned to face him. “Do you think this is a bad idea, Wyatt? Do you think we’ll be able to fool my grandmother? And Aunt Estelle?”
He heard the self-doubt creeping into her voice, and he didn’t like it.
He dropped one of the valises then reached out and cupped her cheek.
Sheridan stiffened, just a bit, then relaxed, as she gazed into his eyes.
He took the opportunity afforded to him, leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
He smiled at the sigh that escaped her, then broke the kiss. “Of course, we will. Trust me.”
“I do.” She looked at him with all the trust in the world, and his heart, which had been beating so normally just a moment ago, seemed to stop, then resume with a hard thud. He could have kissed her again. Should have kissed her again. He didn’t. He simply walked to the door and opened it.
The ride to the ranch didn’t take long, but he kept stealing glances at her, watching her face, noticing that her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her entire body stiff and unyielding.
He knew she was having doubts that they could fool Odette and Aunt Estelle, and he wished he could reassure her, but realized that she was too shaken and probably wouldn’t hear his words even if he said them aloud.
He drew the buckboard to a stop next to his mother’s buggy, his gaze still on her. “Are you all right?”
“If you want to know the truth, I’m not sure.” She glanced at the buggy then at him. “Will you tell Delilah and Royce what we’re doing?”
“I think it would be best. You never know what my mother will say.” He laughed then sobered.
“It’ll be all right, Sherry. We—all of us—will convince Odette and Aunt Estelle that we are exceedingly happy.
We’ll put on such a good show they couldn’t possibly force you to go back to New Orleans.
” He reached for her hand and squeezed lightly.
“And if we need to, we can ask others to help. Lucy, I’m sure, would be thrilled.
So would any number of other people.” He let go of her hand then reached up and smoothed his thumb against her cheek.
She had the softest skin. Even though his hands were calloused, he could still feel it. “It’ll be all right. I promise.”
He didn’t know if she believed him or not, but she smiled. “I’m going to hold you to that promise.”