The Tory's Daughter, page 7
Keeping the shawl tight, Hannah rushed into the smaller room and closed the door. Mindful of her throbbing arm, she slipped from the gown, put on a shift she found in the chest, and dived under the covers. She pulled the quilt up to her chin.
The door swung open, and Joseph strode across the room. The bedframe creaked as he sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled off his boots.
Hannah tightened the blanket around her as he drew his shirt over his head. “You can’t sleep in here.”
A harrumph joined the shifting of the mattress as he stretched out. “It’s my bed.”
And she was his wife, but Hannah didn’t want to think about any of the implications. Neither did she dare remove herself, feeling quite naked in the light shift she’d borrowed.
Joseph blew out the candle he’d set on the small table and settled beside her. Not quite touching, but heat radiated from him. He rolled on his side, facing away, and his breathing deepened.
Hannah lay awake, her heart continuing its drumming.
He didn’t move again.
Darkness and silence lay over them. Her mind, however, screamed to keep her distance from this man who had only become her husband to save his home and family. She could not blame him, but she would be wise not to develop any form of affection for him.
10
The rooster’s early morning serenade grated Joseph’s nerves. Or maybe it was knowing he’d overslept. With a yawn, he stretched out his bare arms and settled onto his back. The emptiness of the bed beside him remained a cold reminder of everything he had lost. He looked over at the flattened blankets. The room was dark, the window blocked up with a blanket, the only light a glow through the open doorway.
Hannah.
Where had she gone?
Rolling out of bed, Joseph hit his knees hard on the floor, and flopped his forehead into the mattress. Since he was down here… “Dear Lord, bless this day, bless the planting, bless my family, and…” Hannah’s face infiltrated his thoughts, but he wasn’t sure what more to say, so he ended the prayer and pushed to his feet.
Boots on and shirt in hand, he walked into the large room. The air still held the night’s chill. He’d light the fire before heading out to do chores. But first, what to do with his new wife?
Hannah sat in the same chair she had the evening before, her arms and head draped over the table, eyes closed. The large shawl had slipped from her arm, bearing a shoulder and the bandage.
He tried to focus on the latter. It appeared not to have bled much in the night, but she would never get the rest she needed hunched in a hard chair.
Draping his shirt over the back of the neighboring chair, Joseph moved his hand over her shoulder, skin so smooth.
She groaned, but remained asleep.
He crouched and slid his other arm under her knees. Then lifted.
A sigh lengthened as she leaned her head on his chest and sagged against him. Her long eyelashes fluttered open. A jumble of Mohawk words rolled from her tongue as she jerked upright, almost causing him to drop her. She wriggled. “Let me go. Don’t touch me.”
“I only meant to take you to bed.” He set her down on her feet.
“I don’t want to go to your bed. I won’t do it.”
Do what? Joseph opened his mouth to ask, but shook the thought from his head. “You need more sleep.”
She swayed.
Waiting for her to listen was ridiculous. He scooped her up and hauled her into the bedroom.
“Let me down!”
Joseph tightened his grip to keep her from falling. Just as he loosened his hold, a sharp elbow plowed into his ribs and he doubled over, dropping her onto the mattress. His shins met the frame, and his momentum sent him on top of her. He caught himself before he squished her, his arms braced on either side.
Hannah stared up at him.
He shoved away. “Stop fighting me.”
“Stop touching me.”
Her words stung more than expected, but he gave a smug smile. “You don’t have to worry about that.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room—out of the cabin. Goosebumps scurried up his arms and across his torso. He hugged his bare chest. He’d forgotten his shirt.
Just what he needed—something to make him go back inside. Joseph filled his lungs and let the fire in his gut dissipate. He reached near the door and snatched his coat and hat from the peg, but there was no way he was going back inside and chance another tussle. He’d finish the chores first.
~*~
Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, Joseph’s last words pricking like hornet stings. Festering. Swelling. Hurting.
You don’t have to worry about that.
Because he didn’t want to come anywhere near her. Not like a husband or a man in love. She had been the price of his family’s safety, and he’d paid, but that was all she’d ever be worth to him. Nothing had changed since she was a girl. No attraction. No feelings. Just as well.
Hannah found her leggings and oversized shirt she’d washed the day before. They were dry enough now. She changed, braided her hair, and put thoughts of marriage—real marriage—from her mind. What did it matter that Joseph didn’t want her? She didn’t want him, either. She only needed his help to find her brothers. His rejection was merely to her pride.
In the main room, the fireplace coals were banked. She found kindling on the hearth and encouraged a flame to life. Perhaps she would fix one of Pa’s favorites and prove to Joseph that she would not be a burden on him.
There was no sign of Joseph when she sneaked out to the barn and found eight eggs and cut a thin slab of meat. The fire was hot enough by the time she returned to start cooking.
The browned meat graced a plate, and she was spooning some of the eggs on beside it when footsteps announced Joseph’s arrival. Hannah set the skillet on the table and swept her braids over her shoulders. But she couldn’t simply stand there waiting when he walked in. She had to be busy with something. As the door latch dipped, she spun to the fireplace and grabbed the poker to thrust into the coals.
“Joseph?”
The man entered the cabin, his cane swinging with his steps. Benjamin Reid swiped the hat from his dark hair. Questioning marked his brow only momentarily. “You’re the bit of difficulty that sent Joseph and Andrew running home with hardly an explanation, aren’t you?”
Hannah chose not to answer. Not that she feared Benjamin Reid. It was his son with the temper and reckless behavior who had always concerned her.
“You’re one of Henry Cunningham’s girls, aren’t you?”
A shadow appeared behind him. One of his own daughters—the one her age.
“Pa, are the…” Nora gaped at Hannah for a full minute before wiping her hands across her gown and stepping fully into the cabin. “You look familiar.”
“I should.” She set the fire poker back in its place. “I lived not a mile from here.”
“Hannah Cunningham.” Nora smiled—looking far too much like Fannie. All the Reids carried similar traits, dark brown waves and equally dark eyes.
Hannah gave a nod, not sure if she should correct them. Perhaps the Reids would not think kindly of their sister and daughter so quickly replaced. Joseph and Fannie’s baby girl looked well under a year.
“What are you doing here?” Nora asked, but not in an unkind way.
“Joseph has agreed to—”
The deep guttural sound of Joseph clearing his throat in the doorway behind them stopped her words. He excused himself to go past the Reids, two eggs in hand. “Morning, Benjamin. Nora.”
“Good morning, Joseph.” Benjamin followed him to the table. “Our planting is almost finished so Nora thought she could help mind the children. We wanted to check with you first to make sure they aren’t here before heading down to the Wyndhams.”
“Rachel has them now. But any help I’m sure will be appreciated.” Joseph took a bowl from the shelves running along the wall next to the fireplace and set the eggs inside. “Hannah will be staying for the last of the planting as well, but she has an injury she needs to let heal.”
Hannah’s gaze sank to the floor. No mention of their marriage. Only that she would be here while they sowed the fields. And then what? They would find her brothers, and Joseph would be rid of her.
And she would be rid of him.
“If you want to wait here, Nora,” Joseph smiled, “Rachel and Andrew will be along later with the children. You’ve probably had breakfast already, but you are both welcome to sit down with us.”
Nora circled nearer. “We’ve eaten, but I don’t mind lending Hannah a hand.” Her lips curved up as her dark eyes gazed innocently at Joseph. Though her features were softer, not as striking as Fannie’s had been, Nora was still what men would consider handsome. “Does the cow still need milking?”
Joseph’s smile fell. “That’s been taken care of.”
By me. It was her fault the cow was dead. Hannah started to the door, bypassing Joseph and his guests. “I’ll go find more eggs.”
A breeze met her outside, but she had no desire to return for the shawl. She lengthened her stride toward the barn, no long skirts to tangle her feet.
“Hannah.” Joseph’s sandy locks flapped with each step, not yet fastened at the nape of his neck. “I need to talk to you.”
“Then talk.”
The corner of his lip twitched downward. “I think it best we keep our…”
“Our marriage?”
“I think it best no one know. Not yet, anyway.”
Hannah was stoic. “No one? Or just Nora and her father?”
Joseph’s brow wrinkled. “Them included. But the whole settlement, really. If they knew I had made such a bargain for the safety of my farm…well, it might not be very safe anymore.”
“You have my silence. Is there anything else you want?” Hannah compelled her smile to make an appearance.
He shook his head.
She choked back a bitter laugh.
Joseph Garnet really hadn’t changed one bit.
11
The last kernels of corn rolled from the sack. Joseph remained crouched, but looked to the source of happy chatter near the cabin. Rachel and Nora walked together, long skirts swooshing, each with a little girl on their hip. Young James ran along with them, pausing to pick up rocks and twigs on the way to the large area of tilled soil prepared for the garden. Rachel had told him she and Nora would plant the remainder of it today while Hannah rested her arm.
Hannah stood in the cabin’s shadow, leaned against the door frame as she watched the other women. Her wound had mostly healed over the past few days and didn’t appear to bother her much, but she remained withdrawn. She appeared lonely. And sad.
Joseph rocked back on his heels. He didn’t want her to be unhappy here.
“As much as I admire and am somewhat envious of your ability to crouch in such a way for an extended time,” Andrew said from behind him, “I suggest we make some haste before the Sabbath arrives.”
Hannah glanced their way. Her chin lifted a degree before she pulled the door closed and hurried toward the paddock where the mare grazed. Joseph almost smiled at that. She hadn’t changed a bit when it came to her love of horses. He well remembered the way she had been, two long braids, wide brown eyes, arms laid over the rail fence as she watched the horses for hours. Sometimes when she was young, she’d venture into the pens and follow Hunter around—his much smaller, two-legged shadow.
Andrew’s crisp tones again pulled him from his thoughts. “While your wife is admittedly a becoming creature, she is no longer in sight, negating the need to stare as you do.”
Joseph stood and twisted to the man, only to be met by a grin.
“I must admit that if I knew you were this fond of the girl, I would have been significantly less concerned.”
“Don’t be so quick to get over your concern.” Joseph heaved the sack of corn seed over his shoulder.
“That was not attraction I saw on your face just then?”
Joseph kept walking, mostly because he wasn’t sure how to answer. He couldn’t deny Hannah had grown into a pretty thing, but she was still young and whether or not he was attracted had little bearing on their marriage.
Andrew kept pace until they met the plowed field. “Perhaps you will assist me in choosing a topic for my sermon tomorrow.”
Joseph stumbled to a halt. “Tomorrow is Sunday again? Already?” He hadn’t made near the progress he had intended this week.
“Already.”
“Then I suggest we stop talking and get busy.” He didn’t want to discuss Hannah any longer.
“You leave me to decide on a topic?” Andrew’s words held a good-humored warning. “The second book of Genesis comes readily to mind. ‘This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.’”
Joseph glared.
“‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.’”
Joseph fumbled for a retort. “If I knew the Bible as well as you, I’d suggest you base your sermon on a Scripture about not making your friends hate you.”
Andrew chuckled. “Perhaps the fifth chapter of Matthew? ‘Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him?’”
“It depends who has to do the agreeing. Because I don’t agree with you.” Joseph huffed out a breath. “How am I supposed to think of this as a real marriage? I mean, sure I hope I can—we can—someday. But she’s not too fond of me, and I’m…” Joseph shook his head, not sure how to continue. He stepped to the rock he had used to mark where he’d left off the evening before. He had planned to be done with this field already, and instead he’d only sown a third of it.
“Still mourning Fannie?” Andrew took a handful of kernels from his own pouch. “It has been less than a year. Seems longer, somehow.”
Much longer. The first days and weeks had stretched across endless hours. The shock. Dragging himself out of bed to see to the needs of his family and the farm, though he had hardly slept in the bed now empty of her warmth. The months had passed and gradually he’d become accustomed to the emptiness of both the house and himself.
“The pain will pass.” Andrew gripped his shoulder. “Give yourself, and Hannah, time.”
Joseph wasn’t sure time would have any effect on her.
“I have thought much on it throughout the week,” Andrew continued, “and despite my misgivings, I now wonder if perhaps Hannah’s coming is a tender mercy of the Lord.”
Joseph’s shin, still sore days later, begged to differ. There was not much tender about the woman. “How so?”
Kernels dropped one at a time from Andrew’s hand into the long straight valley of black earth.
“Or are you rethinking your statement?”
Andrew tipped his hat back with his wrist. “I believe Rachel is again with child.”
“But…” Martha was still so young. Fannie had not gotten pregnant again until she had weaned James. “Is she certain?”
Andrew raised a shoulder. “I am not even certain she knows. She has not spoken of it to me.”
“Then how do you know?” Joseph had been oblivious to Fannie’s maternity until she’d informed him.
“Her mood. She wearies quickly, and sleeps more. I know my wife.”
Better than Joseph had known his…either of them. The corners of his mouth turned down. He had loved Fannie and enjoyed her presence in his life, but he had always been a little envious of many facets of Rachel’s and Andrew’s affection.
“Do not concern yourself with the children. I know you have promised to help Hannah seek her brothers. If Rachel needs help before you’ve returned, I will speak to Nora or one of her sisters about minding James regularly.”
“No. I’ll speak with Nora myself.” She loved the children and would no doubt do what she could to help. Joseph clutched another handful of seed. What if Hannah decided to leave with her brothers? Recently, he had begun to consider Nora as a logical choice to help him raise his children. But now…
Now he had Hannah.
~*~
“Don’t touch that, James!”
Hannah slipped out between the rails of the fence.
Nora hurried after the little boy who had discovered hard clods of horse dung were excellent for throwing. Rachel had returned to the cabin a while ago with the baby, leaving the children in Nora’s care. Rachel’s little girl followed James’s example, reaching for a fresher mound. Nora left James and lunged for Sarah. The little boy then hurled another clod.
A smile tugged Hannah’s lips. Maybe she shouldn’t be amused at the child’s antics, but she found a strange sort of pleasure in the other woman’s frustration. Not that Hannah disliked Nora Reid—only the way she felt beside her. Insignificant. Crippled. And something else she didn’t quite recognize, but didn’t like in the slightest. A sort of uncomfortable burning in her stomach whenever the other girl spoke to Joseph.
It didn’t help that Nora filled out her dress just right, and her rich chestnut locks were in two braids swirled together on the back of her head in such a lovely fashion. She was so very feminine.
Unlike Hannah in her leggings and tattered shirt.
Nora was the wife Joseph would want. The mother his children needed. But he’s stuck with me. As was James.
Nora crouched with the little golden-haired girl balanced on one knee, while she pulled James close with her free hand and dusted off his fingers.
The jealousy dug deeper. Whether or not Joseph wanted her, their marriage—as secret as it was—made James her son. Even though she couldn’t hope to have Joseph’s heart, she might still win the boy’s affection. Hurrying across the yard, Hannah extended her good arm to James. “I’ll take him and wash him up.”
“Why don’t you let me? Joseph said you’re to rest.”
“I don’t care what Joseph says.” Hannah pulled James onto her hip and started toward the well. Her wound had scabbed over and hardly pained her anymore. Joseph had coddled her long enough.
