The Texan's Inherited Family. Noelle Marchand
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room?”
Her words were infused with just enough panic and disconcertion to jerk Quinn’s head up. His eyes were already widening when they connected with hers. A flush spread just above his well-shaven jaw. “I didn’t— I mean—I’ll be sleeping in the boys’ room from now on.”
“Oh.” A wave of relief washed over her, but ebbed with confusion. He’d asked her to marry him because he needed a mother for his children. However, since he’d never specifically said that their marriage would be in name only, she’d assumed it would become like any normal marriage after they fell in love. Was he ruling out that prospect? If so, did that mean he was also ruling out the far more important possibility of falling in love with her?
She really ought to ask him to clarify the issue. After all, she had a right to know exactly what she’d gotten herself into. She paused with the question on her lips. Did she want to know the truth? Absolutely. Did she have the nerve to ask? Certainly not.
Instead, she wished him a good night and easily found the right bedroom. The door was heavier than she’d expected so she pushed it open only far enough for her slim frame to slip through. Readying herself for bed, she tried to sort through the myriad emotions tangling in her chest. This marriage had not started out at all as she’d imagined it would. Even the ceremony had been a bit flubbed. She had to admit that Quinn had been rather frustratingly adorable in that moment. He’d been so serious, so confused, so desperate to make things right. He’d even called her “honey.” Then he’d kissed her and she’d felt a sensation similar to the one she’d felt at the circus when she’d placed her hand on a glass ball that conducted static electricity—only more powerful. Of course, he’d followed all of that up by ignoring her the whole evening.
One labored sigh later, she slid under the covers of her new bed. At least, she tried to slide in. Her legs would only go so far. She kicked and pushed and wiggled to no avail until one overenthusiastic effort sent her careening toward the floor. She landed with a loud thump, clamping her lips shut a second too late to smother a startled scream. She groaned in a mixture of pain from her soon-to-be-bruised hip and pure, honest-to-goodness frustration. The pounding of bare feet sounded in the hallway. The door flew open, setting off a popping sound as an avalanche of rice covered her concerned husband.
Helen burst out laughing. Quinn ignored the sticky rice clinging to his body in his hurry to kneel by her side. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head even as she winced at the stitch in her side that came from laughing too hard. “I just hit the floor a little hard.”
He helped her up. “How did you end up down there?”
“Try to get in the bed.”
He glanced from her to the bed then down at himself. “But I’m covered in rice.”
“Doesn’t matter. Go ahead and try.” She smirked as she watched him lift the covers as though they were going to bite him. “Scaredy-cat.”
He narrowed his eyes at her then jumped under the covers. His long legs had nowhere to go. He fell out of the bed, but managed to control his fall with catlike grace. He grinned up at her from the floor. “Helen, I reckon we’ve been shivareed.”
“I hope that’s the extent of the troublemaking.” She shook her head. “Interesting how it isn’t quite so fun when you’re on the receiving end. I think I’d better get a broom.”
“You can put the rice in the slop pail for the pigs. Meanwhile, I’ll see how they rigged up the bed and undo it.”
By the time she returned, he’d pulled back the quilt completely from the bed to reveal their saboteur’s handiwork. The fitted sheet seemed untouched, but someone had tucked the top sheet into the head of the bed so that it looked like the fitted sheet. They’d then doubled it over so that it also appeared to be a normal top sheet. Lastly, they’d tucked in the sides so the sheet became sort of an impenetrable envelope.
Quinn quickly remade the bed correctly, shaking his head the entire time. “I made this bed myself this morning with new sheets and all. It kind of gives me an eerie feeling to know someone was prowling around the place, causing mischief when I was gone. I’ve a mind to go into town on Monday and get a better lock for the doors around this place. There. All fixed. I’ll take the trash you have with me when I leave.”
“Thank you for coming to my rescue.” She swept the last of the rice into the dustpan and emptied it into the slop pail.
“I’m just glad you aren’t too badly hurt.”
She watched him plump the pillows for her as she sat on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugged. “I’m done now. Good night.”
“Good night.” She moved to the head of the bed as he grabbed the slop bucket, broom and dustpan. She’d just blown out the lamp when the sound of him softly calling her name made her turn to find the silhouette of his broad-shouldered, slim-hipped frame lingering at the door. “Yes, Quinn?”
“You looked beautiful at the wedding today. I hope I told you that.”
He hadn’t and she hadn’t realized how dearly she’d missed the compliment until now. The sincerity in his voice caused a small smile to curve at her lips. “Thank you.”
“I’ll let you get some sleep.” He stepped away from the door.
She moved to the far end of the bed. Clutching the footboard, she called his name. He reappeared in an instant. She bit her lip. Somehow the darkness helped her find her courage. It didn’t stop the blush from rising in her cheeks. “Quinn, I think it’s only fair of you to explain what you meant when you said you’d be sleeping in the boys’ room ‘from now on.’ Does ‘from now on’ mean forever?”
His shoulders tensed as she spoke, and his gaze dropped to the path of light that led toward her. “I don’t know, Helen. Maybe. Probably.”
She nodded then waited for him to close the door behind him before sliding under the covers. She even went so far as to pull them over her head. It wasn’t enough to shelter her from the doubts that stalked her thoughts.
She’d married Quinn thinking that it would be easy to fall in love with him one day. However, she hadn’t considered the possibility that he might not be inclined to return the favor. Judging by tonight, that might very well be the case.
It would be wise to guard her heart and not place too much faith in love making the difference. If he did fall in love with her and they decided to have a normal marriage, how long would it be before he figured out there would be no baby coming? Would he realize she’d known she was damaged all along? That she’d hid it from him?
It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter. Quinn had married her to take care of the four children he already had. Surely her worth as his wife was secure in that. She didn’t need to think that far ahead, anyway. Right now, their marriage was only a matter of convenience to him—no matter how much more it might mean to her.
The dusky-blue light of dawn crept down the hallway where Quinn paused outside what used to be his bedroom. He tapped on the door and listened for any sounds of his wife stirring. Hearing none, he tapped a little harder. Still nothing. With a frown, Quinn eased the door open and immediately wished he hadn’t. Something just didn’t seem decent about being in a lady’s bedroom while she was sleeping. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off her as he rounded the corner of the bed and knelt beside it.
She was cuddled under the covers with her hand resting beside her cheek on a hunter-green linen pillowcase. The color complemented the roses in her cheeks and lips. Her rich brown waves tumbled over her shoulder. Quinn felt his brow furrow in confusion. How on earth had he convinced this beautiful creature to marry him?
He’d be a lot more comfortable with this situation if she were a little more plain,