The Scoundrel. Lisa Plumley
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because I carried you inside?” It was the most outlandish thing she’d said to him today, short of “kiss me.” Yet there was something about the look on her face….
He didn’t want to think about it.
“Stop talking nonsense,” Daniel said gruffly. He put her down, then rammed his hat on his head. “I’m off to Jack Murphy’s saloon.”
Her husband had gone carousing. On his wedding night.
Still smarting at the realization, Sarah kicked aside a pair of gargantuan muddy boots. They had to belong to Daniel. No one else possessed feet that big. Or an arrogance to match. Did he truly expect her to stay here alone while he tossed back pints at the saloon?
Frustrated, she raised her skirts and went to the window. Daniel was just disappearing around the bend, his shoulders broad and his manner carefree. She’d done all she could to make him stay with her, short of clamping herself on his leg and begging. She did have some pride. But he’d refused to linger. In the end, Sarah had decided that if Daniel didn’t want her, she didn’t want him.
Until she’d made him love her, of course.
Resigned for now, she released the curtain. As the fabric flopped in place, it raised a billow of dust. Sarah frowned at her hand, then rubbed her fingers together. They felt gritty.
Daniel’s parting words came back to her.
“I tidied up this morning, on account of the occasion,” he’d told her. “I reckon you won’t have a thing to do while I’m gone but unpack all your dresses and whatnot.”
He nodded at the belongings she’d had carried over earlier. With one sweep of his beefy arm, he indicated the appropriate chamber down the hall. It had been Eli’s room, Daniel explained further, until he’d moved the boy’s things.
“You and I aren’t to share a bedroom?”
A frown. “Didn’t seem quite right to me. Seeing as how we’re only married on account of Eli.”
“Oh. That’s true. That’s fine, then. An excellent idea,” Sarah bluffed, not wanting him to know the notion bothered her. As near as she could tell, sharing a room was one of the cozier aspects of being married. She had—she was embarrassed to admit—looked forward to it. Dismayed, she peered down the hall. “But if I am in that room, where will Eli sleep?”
Clearly, Daniel hadn’t thought of that. “I guess we’ll likely take turns with my bed. Yep. That solves it.”
Then he’d set his hat at a rakish angle, given her an unreadable look and stridden from the house as if his heels were on fire.
Sarah didn’t understand it. Now, picking her way among the bits and pieces of his bachelor’s household, she realized that while she had spent the past several days in frantic preparations, Daniel had…not. In fact, he didn’t appear to have considered her arrival at all. Their marriage—a monumental event in Sarah’s life—didn’t mean anything to him beyond a means of solving his troubles with Eli.
She knew she should have expected as much. She’d gone into this arrangement with her eyes open, after all. Daniel hadn’t tried to deceive her. But somehow, a part of her had still hoped things would be different.
“Why, Sarah!” Daniel was supposed to have exclaimed upon seeing her today. “You’re beautiful! I don’t know how I haven’t noticed till now.”
She’d have blushed prettily, glowing with his praise.
“In fact, now that I think on it, I’ve been in love with you all along!” he’d have continued. “How could I not be? You’re an ideal match for me. So lovely, so kind, so clever.”
It would have been immodest to agree. She’d merely have smiled, linking her arm with his in a way that bespoke gentle, long-standing affection. He’d have chivalrously offered her a flower. A rare blossom, perhaps, like the ones from her mama’s greenhouse. She’d blink back sentimental tears, planning to press the flower and cherish it always, and—
A clatter in the kitchen shattered her reverie. Jolted into alertness, Sarah glanced to the cast-iron cookstove. A tabby cat streaked from amid the handmade pots and pans scattered atop it, giving her a baleful glare as it slipped beneath a chair.
“Hello, there.” Surprised, she stepped nearer. “I didn’t know you lived here, too.”
Frankly, Daniel had never seemed the sort to nurture a pet. Especially given how much of his time was devoted, of necessity, to blacksmithing. Perhaps the cat was Eli’s.
She crouched, her skirts whispering, then extended her hand. “Come here, little kitty. I won’t hurt you.”
The tabby regarded her suspiciously, whiskers twitching.
“Are you hungry? I am. I didn’t have a bite to eat at the wedding party.” She’d been too busy trying to catch the eye of her new husband for anything so mundane as food.
Straightening, she surveyed the kitchen. Her new kitchen. It looked as if a pack of donkeys had been here last, attempting to rustle up a noontime meal with two hooves tied behind their backs. Open cans of tinned fruit littered the tabletop, along with crumbs, pieces of twine and paraffin-coated baker’s wrap—the latter, more than likely, from Molly’s bakeshop. Most unmarried men in Morrow Creek bought their baked goods from her sister.
To the left, scrubbed plates and bowls sat higgledy-piggledy on the worktable, beside a bag of green coffee beans and a grinder. Near the unused cookstove stood a barrel of pickles—popular with the men of the household, judging by the blobby green trail of pickle juice on the floor nearby. Another barrel held oats, and a third, dried beans.
At least Daniel possessed some foodstuffs. He also had on hand at least a month’s worth of the Pioneer Press newspaper—her father’s broadsheet—and some cornmeal. The gritty stuff coated every horizontal surface in a fine dusting, as though a bag of it had exploded in here. Knowing Daniel and Eli, it probably had. There were tracks in the yellow meal here and there, as though someone had palmed up a handful to cook with and left the rest where it lay.
Ugh. Wrinkling her nose, Sarah left the mess for now. Her bridegroom may have absconded, but she refused to spend her wedding night tidying up.
Minutes later, she’d prepared a simple meal of bread and cheese. Between bites—some of which she fed to the cat as she carried it in her arms—she wandered through the rest of the house. The front room held hardy furniture, doubtless handmade. Clothes lumped on the chair seats and served as draft-catchers in the corners; Eli’s puzzles and toys had set up camp on the round braided rug. A cadre of blacksmith’s tools occupied a prominent spot near the fireplace, apparently keeping company with the supply of cut and stacked firewood.
Although Sarah had come calling on Daniel and Eli many times, today their home held new interest. This time, it was partly hers, to do with what she pleased. In her mind’s eye, she saw the windows stripped of their dreary, dust-clogged curtains and brightened with ruffle-trimmed adornments instead. She saw the chairs embellished with embroidered pillows and the floor scrubbed clean. Perhaps a new rug, as well.
“It’s so homey!” Daniel would say when he saw it, reaching impulsively for her hand. His expression would shine with amazement. “You are a marvel, Sarah. No wonder I find myself more in love with you every day. I don’t know how I ever lived without you.”
Satisfied at the thought, Sarah smiled. Daniel truly did not know how lucky he was. She was going to have a marvelous time putting everything in order—including her new husband. She could hardly wait to start putting her own special stamp on their shared household.
But first… Feeling her heart skip a beat in anticipation, she sauntered to the other end of the house. The tabby purred in her arms, content with their makeshift meal. It seemed Sarah had made at least one friend here. That was good. She entered the hallway, her footsteps loud on the floorboards, and approached the private chambers there.
She