The Texan's Inherited Family

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He shook the thoughts from his head. He didn’t even want to consider such a thing happening. Especially not in the middle of the ceremony. But it was already too late. His heart started racing. His palms began to sweat. Maybe he’d keel over right now and be done with it. Helen would take care of the children even if they hadn’t been officially married.

He slowly became aware of the oppressive, awkward silence filling the church. Pastor Brightly cleared his throat. “You don’t wish to take Helen to be your wife?”

“I—” He stopped and stared at the preacher realizing that wasn’t the question Quinn had prepared himself to answer. “What?”

“You shook your head. I thought...”

“Oh, no.” Quinn waved his right hand dismissing the action he’d done during his lapse of concentrate.

Helen’s left hand slipped from his as the preacher’s brow furrowed in confusion. “‘No’ what?”

Quinn frowned at Helen and took her hand in his again as a nervousness seemed to spread from him to the folks gathered in the chapel. Helen wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, was she? “Where are you going?”

“I’m not—” Her words stumbled to a halt. She looked flat out bewildered. “Quinn, are you going to marry me or not?”

“Well, I’m trying to, honey. The preacher here can’t seem to get the question right.”

A chuckle sounded from the audience. Quinn turned in time to see Ellie Williams smack her husband on the shoulder for the outburst before glaring at her sister-in-law, Lorelei, who sat on her other side shaking with silent laughter. Quinn glanced at his best man for help. Rhett just shook his head. Helen leaned into Quinn’s side to whisper, “Pastor Brightly already asked you once.”

“Oh.” He almost admitted he’d been distracted then stopped himself in time to keep from getting into more trouble. He nodded at Pastor Brightly. “I reckon you’d better ask me again.”

Pastor Brightly looked decidedly nervous as he cleared his throat. “Will you take Helen Grace McKenna to be your wedded wife—”

“I will.”

“—to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony—”

“I will.”

Pastor Brightly took in a deep breath and somehow managed to say the rest without pausing even a second for Quinn to answer. “Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

Finally, realizing he’d been interrupting the minister, Quinn hesitated before adding one final. “I will.”

It was Helen’s turn. She answered Pastor Brightly only once and not until the end, but the surety in her voice was worth the wait. Then it was time to exchange rings. He made sure to pay close attention so that he could say I do at the right time to endow all of his worldly goods upon Helen—such as they were. Quinn’s heart had managed to calm down somewhat by the time Helen slid the ring he’d picked up at the mercantile onto his finger...until he realized there was only one thing left to do.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Quinn, you may kiss your bride.”

He froze in panic. Sending a quick glance heavenward, he turned to his bride. Whatelse is a groom to do? It’s expected.

He glanced down at her smiling lips and wished more than anything that he’d kissed her in the schoolhouse first, lighting bolt or no lightning bolt. Now he had an audience and no idea how he was supposed to do this. He leaned down slowly to make sure he had the right trajectory. He brushed his lips across hers. That didn’t seem quite right. He tried again, lingering this time. She tilted her head and did the rest.

A lightning bolt hit him, all right. It traveled from his lips down to his soul. It blocked out everything in a flash of light and heat except for the woman before him. He pulled away to stare down at her. A hundred questions battled for answers within him. Had she felt the lightning, too? More important, who had taught her to kiss like that and how soon could he get his hands around that man’s neck? Finally, maybe if Quinn was real good about everything else, would God mind if he tasted lightning at least one more time before he died? He wasn’t anticipating a long wait seeing as he had not only chased after but caught more than he was entitled to.

Nope. A wedding kiss was acceptable. He’d better play it safe from here on out. That’s what a smart man would do. He’d never professed to be one before, but he’d married the schoolmarm. He had to at least try to use his wits if he wanted to keep her.

And he did. For the children. Only for the children.

* * *

Sean and Lorelei O’Brien had insisted on keeping the children at their neighboring farm overnight. Helen sorely missed their company, for the evening seemed to stretch on interminably without them. She tried to present a picture of unselfconscious comfort by tucking her feet under her and snuggling into the settee with a copy of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, but an undercurrent of unease seemed to crackle in the air along with the soft roar from the logs in the fireplace. Even the crisp notes of Quinn’s banjo couldn’t drown it out, though he wasn’t above trying—bless his heart.

After announcing that he hadn’t had much of a chance to practice lately, he’d settled on the rug-covered floor across from the settee and started playing...and playing...and playing. It seemed as though he’d been strumming for hours, pausing for only an instant between songs, if that. At first, she’d enjoyed it. He was a very talented musician, after all. He’d even gotten her toe tapping a time or two. Now, she was getting concerned and a bit frustrated.

It was their wedding day, for goodness’ sake! Didn’t he even want to talk to his new wife? She certainly wanted to talk to him. She’d been counting on this time to get to know the acquaintance she’d just married. She’d be downright mad at him for ignoring her if he wasn’t so attractive while doing it.

Book abandoned, she stared at him, since he wasn’t paying her any mind, anyway. The firelight caressed his jaw with golden fingers that swept up to his cheek and back down again as he bobbed his head in time with the music. His strong arms curved around the instrument while his left hand slid back and forth across the neck of the banjo and his nimble fingers coaxed music from the strings. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration. She bit her lip to hold back a sigh. Talk to me.

He glanced up and caught her watching. His fingers stalled. She smiled her entreaty. His lips curved upward in response. He went back to playing. She closed her eyes in annoyance then opened them to find his gaze fixed on her again. Progress! She’d better do something while she had his attention. His piercing cobalt eyes rendered her mind a complete blank. She reached for something sensible or meaningful to say then dared to speak over the music. “This is a nice room.”

Really? That’s the best that I could come up with?

It seemed to take Quinn off guard a little, too, for he glanced around as though with new eyes. The furnishings of the living room weren’t fancy, but they were comfortable and of good quality. The floors were the same rather worn oak that seemed to stretch through the entire house. The burgundy rug on top of it reflected the red brick of the fireplace, which was cooled down by the hunter green and dark blue in the settee and matching chairs. Having finished his inspection, Quinn offered her a nod. “I’m glad you like it.”

Her mind scrambled for something else to say. What could she talk about? The ceremony? She wasn’t eager to discuss the fact that he’d made her a nervous wreck by originally accidentally refusing her. The children? All she could think about was the fact that they wouldn’t return until tomorrow. Leaving her alone. With her husband. Who had only just discovered that she was in the same room with him.

Realizing they hadn’t stopped staring at each other while he played, she wanted to look away but was afraid she wouldn’t get his attention again. To be honest, she was tired of trying. It had been such a busy few days with her finishing up at school, packing her things and moving them into her new home. She was worn out. Perhaps she ought to just call it a night and hide until the children returned. She stood.

The music stopped. Quinn looked up at her expectantly. Her mouth opened then closed as she realized that, though she was ready to turn in, she had no idea where to turn in to. She’d been so distracted by laying out the wedding supper their friends had sent home with them that she hadn’t seen anything of the house besides the kitchen and living room. After supper, Quinn had been too involved with his banjo to offer a tour. He stood, watching her with a concerned frown. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Without her permission, her gaze strayed to the banjo which he still clung to rather tightly. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I’m ready to go to bed, but I’m not sure where I’m supposed to sleep.”

He carefully laid the banjo in its case. “I already put your trunks in my room. It’s the first door you’ll come to in the hallway.”

“Your 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.

Chapter Five (#ulink_393be17d-c2c7-54cc-aeb2-4e0becb24cdb)

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, slightly dumb or just flat-out boring. She wasn’t, though. He’d never been more aware of that than when he’d found himself alone with her for an entire evening. He wasn’t completely dense. He knew that his banjo playing had bordered on excessive. He’d felt the annoyance rolling off his bride in waves. He just hadn’t known what to do about it. He was afraid to talk for fear that she’d realized she’d been bamboozled into marrying a man so much dumber than her. He was afraid to look at her because that made him forget he didn’t deserve her. Touching her was completely out of the question.

He’d lain awake for hours with his thoughts spinning in circles inside his head. They mostly revolved around the fact that he barely knew the woman he’d just given his last name. He knew plenty about her, but he didn’t know her personally. He could count on one hand the number of times they’d spoken to each other and most of those conversations had occurred within the past week. That should make for an interesting married life, especially since he had little idea about what one was supposed to be like. His mother had died when he was Trent’s age and his father hadn’t remarried, which meant Quinn had never seen a marriage modeled in his own home. Townsfolk in Peppin seemed pretty fascinated by making matches and marrying people off, yet no one ever said anything about how to build a good marriage after the match was made.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been kneeling beside the bed thinking and watching Helen sleep before her sooty lashes began to flutter. He suddenly realized how close he was to her and tried to move away, but he was too late. Her eyes opened, locked on his and widened. Gasping, she bolted upright in bed and scrambled away from him. “Were you watching me sleep?”

Quinn figured his best tactic was evasion. “I was just about to awaken you. We’ve got chores to do.”

“Chores?”

He nodded. “I need you to milk the cow, feed the chickens and gather the eggs. We’ll have to hurry to get everything done, dress, pick up the children and still be on time for church.”

She blinked. “Milk the chickens?”

She must be one of those folks who was slow to wake up. He didn’t even try to hide his grin, though he quickly rubbed it away. “I’d like to see you try that.”

“Try what?” She corralled her hair so that it pooled over one shoulder.

“Milking the chickens.”

The teasing in his voice must have gotten through her sleep-fogged state, for a dangerous glint of humor warmed her brown eyes. “I bet you would. Repeat the list for me again.”

He braced his elbows on the edge of the bed and ticked off each chore on his fingers. “Milk the cow. Feed the chickens. Gather the eggs. The milk pail and egg basket will be on the worktable in the barn with the bin of chicken feed beside it. All of that will be on your left side as soon as you walk in. You can’t miss it.”

She nodded. “Right.”

“No, left.” He pointed to his left, which he realized too late would be her right.

She tugged his hand down with a laugh. “No. I meant, ‘right,’ as in ‘I understand.’”

“Oh, right.” He glanced at her hand still covering his and wondered how the deal he made with God applied when she was the one reaching out. Yes, sir. He and God had some things they needed to hash out. Until then, he’d better not chance it. He disengaged his hand from hers as he stood. “Better get moving. The animals don’t like to wait.”

* * *

The man had no shame. It was obvious that he’d been watching her sleep for some time, yet he didn’t even have the grace to look the slightest bit embarrassed at being caught. Then, as if she hadn’t been disoriented enough by awakening in an unfamiliar place, he’d knocked further off balance with his teasing before delivering the final blow to her sensibilities. Chores.

She should have known that living on a farm would mean that she’d have farm chores. She’d just gotten so wrapped up in the idea of being a mother and having her impossible dream come true it hadn’t crossed her mind. That and the fact that chores had never really been something she’d ever had to consider before. Growing up, she’d been responsible for keeping her room tidy. However, the maids had taken care of any real cleaning. And there had been no animals to care for.

Her move to Bradley’s Boardinghouse hadn’t necessitated any real change on her part since the Bradley family handled most of the mundane responsibilities for their boarders. Of course, she’d been in charge of keeping the schoolhouse in order. That had consisted of encouraging the children to clean up after themselves, giving the floor a good sweep and cleaning the chalkboard. There was nothing too strenuous or demanding about that.

Still, how hard could it be to take care of a few basic farm chores? She was an intelligent woman, after all. Surely she’d catch on to her responsibilities quickly. She tied her hair back with a ribbon, put on a light coat and buttoned up her boots. There would be time to dress later. The important thing was to heed Quinn’s admonishment to hurry.

The sound of Quinn splitting wood behind the house rang through the brisk autumn air as she stepped outside. She gave a little shiver and gathered her coat closer before setting off across the open field toward the barn. Her right hip reminded her of last night’s unfortunate tumble out of bed by protesting each step she took with that leg. It didn’t help that she continually had to jerk the heels of her kid-leather boots out of the thick grass. By the time she arrived at the door of the large red barn, the hem of her nightgown was wet with dew and clinging uncomfortably to her bare legs. Next time, the animals would have to wait for her to dress more warmly.

The smell of the barn stopped her in her tracks. It was a mixture of sweet hay, musk from the animals and the sharp, acrid scent of dung. She rubbed her cold nose. It wasn’t so bad. Surely she’d get used to it in a few moments. Since she was already in the barn, it made sense to milk the cow first, so she grabbed the milking pan. Two horses neighed as she passed their stalls. She couldn’t tell whether it was a welcome or a warning. Finally, she found the right animal.

Whoa. She’d seen cows from a distance before, but she’d never gotten this close to one. She hadn’t realized they were quite so...large. The animal swung its head toward her and stared. Not threatening exactly—just slightly intimidating. Helen bent her knees to get a look at the teats attached to the bulgy sack on its stomach. In theory, that’s where the milk came from. She knew that. She just wasn’t entirely sure what was required to procure the milk from that into the bucket. Oh, well. What had she told her students? Learning begins with the decision to try.

She unhooked the gate, closed it behind her and did exactly that. She tried...and tried...and tried to milk that blasted cow. It wasn’t as easy in reality as it was in theory. That was for sure. Even when the cow stood still long enough for Helen to set up the stool and reach under its belly to get a hold of its bulgy contraption, nothing came out. Out of breath from the chase as much as the struggle, Helen decided that the cow just didn’t want to share her milk today, so she traded in the milking pail for the chicken feed and egg basket.