Brazos Bride

BRAZOS BRIDE Chapter Seven

Brazos Bride

Chapter Seven

Hope folded back the quilt. After removing her wrapper, she laid it across the foot of the bed then climbed between the sheets. Curling into herself, she wanted to bawl. But she'd long ago given up on tears. They solved nothing.

Planning would save her, not weeping. Yet the thought plagued her-who hated her enough to poison her? Worse, what if she was wrong and really was dying of some mysterious disease that had killed her mother?

No, she was certain her test proved poison's use. Though she could die still, she refused to consider the possibility. She was taking action to save herself. She ticked off the steps of her plan she'd completed.

Many aspects still plagued her. But now she had an ally, Micah. He would help her, protect her. With that pleasant thought, she drifted to sleep.

The sound of a key in the lock awakened her. Quickly, she pulled the sheet up under her arms. She reached for her shirtwaist where it lay on a chair and looked at the little watch pinned to the bodice. Quarter of six.

Micah entered laden with packages and dropped them onto the floor near the chair. It appeared he had wasted no time spending his money. He must have needed many things, and the thought that she'd been able to provide help pleased her.

He sank onto the chair. "Town gossips are already at work." His lovely dimples appeared with his conspiratorial smile and he winked at her.

"So, people know we are married?" she asked. Drat, another oversight. She had forgotten to include the townspeople in her plan. How would they react when the marriage was annulled? Probably scandalized.

"Bowman at the Mercantile knew. He acted almost civil when I bought these." He picked up one of the packages and untied it, then shook out a new shirt.

"Mr. Bowman has always been quite nice to me."

Micah shook his head and picked up another package. "Yeah, well, he hasn't been civil to me, especially since your father's death."

Heedless of her presence, he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. She gaped, unable to turn away. Dear Lord, her mouth went dry as the weather and she couldn't speak. He was almost as tanned on his chest as on his face, and his muscles rippled with each movement. Dark hair furrowed down his chest to a vee that disappeared at his waist just below his belly button.

Good heavens, why couldn't she stop staring at the man? She licked her lips and wondered why she had the oddest urge to taste the indention of his navel. Where had such an outrageous thought come from?

In the mirror he faced, his eyes met hers and he sent her a smile. Caught staring. Her cheeks heated.

She gulped and regained her voice, though she croaked, "Sir, how dare you disrobe in front of me."

"Changing shirts is hardly stripping naked." He stood and poured water into the bowl on the dresser. "Look, Hope, I've lived around men for a long time." He bent to splash water on his face and wiped his wet hands on his chest and underarms.

"You will be in my home and I expect you to remember I am a lady."

"How could I forget?" He dried himself then scooped up his new shirt and slipped it on, buttoning it and looking at her. "This marriage is likely going to cause a lot of adjustments for both of us. You have to make allowances too." He shoved the shirttail into his britches.

"I understand that, but I expect you to be careful in the future. Do not take liberties just because we are thrown together."

Ignoring her comment, he weighed the second package as he had the first, then untied it. "Bowman said you always use this, so I figured you'd want some for tonight and tomorrow." He handed her three bars of the French lavender soap she preferred.