His lips stretched into a smile as he tilted his head toward her plate. "Come on, I'll carry your chair."
His smile exposed a different man. Lenore stood, too perplexed to do anything else. He stepped toward her to reposition her chair at the table. Once seated, he offered his hand across the table.
Lenore furrowed her brow.
"I'll say the blessing."
This trapper prayed over his meals? One minute his temper flamed, the next he showed all the grace of a preacher. She slid her hand into his. A flash of heat passed between their palms. Had he felt it, too? She raised her eyes to find his already staring at her. A moment of silent consideration passed before he slowly lowered his lids, disconnecting the radiance of his green eyes. Lenore found herself able to breathe again . . . until his thumb raked across her knuckles.
". . . please keep Lenore's family in Your care and bless this union. Amen."
Chapter Four
Union. What did he mean by that? Could Heston have been referring to their dinner together or was he actually bold enough to think she would marry him? Lenore didn't know, but she certainly wasn't going to approach the subject again.
The comfort of the dinner, coupled with her tiresome day of walking left her sapped of strength. Unable to stifle a yawn, Lenore covered her mouth with her hand while the other propped her chin on the table. True, she'd been taught better manners, but if it weren't for her elbow, she'd fall asleep with her head on the table.
Heston cleared their plates then stood beside her. "I'd say you're done for the day." He helped her up then carried her to the lone bed. Lenore was too tired to concern herself with etiquette, and fell asleep as her head came to rest on the pillow.
***
Lenore stirred and opened her eyes. The morning sun carved a rectangle of sunlight around the single door. How late was it? She wasn't one to sleep in, but exhaustion had claimed her last night releaving her of her senses. One glance about the cabin confirmed she was alone. She sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. Where was Heston? Had he realized his demand was unrealistic and gone to fetch her family without her? But they wouldn't want to come here, they were to be on their way . . . and where would that leave her?
Voices sounded from outside, pausing her rising panic. She recognized the smooth timber of Heston's voice, but who were the others? Smoothing the folds of her skirt, Lenore slipped on her shoes and bonnet.
Just as she finished with her laces, the door opened, revealing an enthusiastic Heston. Smiling, he reached for her hand. "Ready?"
Lenore winched as he pulled her arm through his. "That's my sore arm."
His brows furrowed in confusion. Then as if realization donned in his eyes, they relaxed. "From the trap? Let me see."
Heston didn't wait for her response as he unbuttoned the arm of her sleeve to expose where the trap had pinched her skin. Now black and blue, the bruise looked more menacing than the injury actually had been.
"Lenore," remorse filled Heston's voice, "I'm sorry I forgot to check this."
Embarrassed by his attention, Lenore pulled her arm back to her side. "It's okay. It doesn't hurt much, and it looks worse than it feels."
Pride filled his gaze. "This will definitely work. I was right. You're nothing like the women from town."
Before Lenore could rebuff his false illusions, the open door widened. "Well, well, you weren't pulling our legs. You really have yourself a bride. Let's get this done then, Heston, before that no-good cousin of yours can devise another plan."
Lenore choked in shock and stumbled as Heston led her toward the door. The sunlight glared off the snow, temporarily blinding her path. One hand shielded her eyes while Heston kept the other tucked in the crook of his arm. She turned his direction and whispered in anger, "Are you crazy? I never agreed to this."
For one quick moment, disappointment shadowed his face. He covered it with a forced smile and continued. "Then I suggest you concentrate on your family. That's why I got the preacher so early in the morning. The quicker we take care of this matter, the quicker we can help them."
Lenore faced forward and noticed a small crowd had gathered. Where they'd come from was unbeknownst to her. Some sported genuine smiles while others looked on with disapproval.
Lightheadedness blurred her vision and weakened her knees. Could she go through with this? Were there no other options? Heston pulled her closer to his side and encouraged her to lean on him. Lenore momentarily gave up her battle for rational thought and enjoyed the sensations that rippled through her.
Moments later, Lenore stood in disbelief as she heard the words, "I now pronounce you husband and wife." The rosy-cheeked preacher slapped his Bible closed with a hearty grin.
Lenore stiffened across from her new husband. Husband? Her knees weakened again. But she didn't chance falling. Heston's arm came around her and pulled her toward him for their first kiss. She had never experienced this type of affection. Of course she'd often wondered what it would be like, but under far different circumstances.
Fear encased her as his lips neared her own.
And then there was peace. Like a storm that suddenly passed, Heston's assured calm spread to her limbs and gave her strength. It was just a simple touch between their lips, but she didn't want it to end. When he pulled back, her own surprise reflected in the green depths of his eyes.
Congratulations went up from the crowd as people came forward to shake their hands. It occurred to Lenore how strange it was that some of the townsfolk had braved the weather to attend this small event. But as voices carried their way in the air, perhaps it wasn't strange at all. It would seem that most of them had hoped the property would stay in the hands of Heston. Exactly what type of family was she getting with this disreputable cousin of his?
The answer came in the form of a swaggering, shaggy-haired man with an equally untidy woman and child. "Well, cous', I bet you didn't think I'd make it."
He reeked of sinful drink. Lenore shrunk behind Heston as the man tried to near her side. Heston blocked his approach by stepping into his path. "Back off, Lucas. I'm married, the place stays mine."
A hint of his quick temper revealed itself through his voice. Lenore hoped this-Lucas-would be smart enough to back off.
"Just wanting to welcome your pretty new bride to the family." His sneer sent shivers up her spine. She noticed her hand had unknowingly gripped Heston's shirt, she let it slide to her side.
Heston turned toward her and clasped her hand in his. He stared into her eyes. "For once, I couldn't agree with you more, she certainly is pretty."
Lenore felt a blush claim her cheeks despite the frigid weather. The crowd began to disperse leaving her staring at her feet. Heston pulled her toward the cabin. "Let's warm up before we start our journey. I imagine you're hungry."
Hunger was the last thing Lenore had thought of. Trepidation at the thought of being married silenced her tongue and stiffened her movements. Heston closed the door behind her and took her hands in his.
His voice softened as he spoke near her ear. "Relax. We'll let nature take its course. Right now, we need to eat and get as early a start as we can."
Lenore looked up and met eyes full of earnest compassion. Did he realize what fears she faced? His thumb rubbed across the top of her hand only to confirm her unspoken question.
Heston released her and gestured toward the table. "Why don't you get breakfast started, I've got some things to bring in."
Lenore nodded in agreement but wondered at what things he meant. How would they travel to her family? Lenore knew nothing about his man. This man whose name she now bore. Lenore Miller.
Her eyes began to sting with unshed tears.
Chapter Five
Lenore's disappointing thoughts over a loveless marriage were interrupted by Heston's return. He paused by the bed and deposited a large wrapped parcel. Lenore stopped her food preparations and looked his direction. He waved her over. "It's not much, but I got you a wedding gift."
"Wedding gift?" The whole idea of their marriage still seemed too surreal. She stepped closer until Heston's hand was on the small of her back, urging her forward.
"Go ahead, unwrap it." His eyes shone with a hopeful expectancy that she'd be pleased.
Lenore pulled at the string. Her curiosity grew as the string fell to the side and loosened the wrapping. Tearing it away, Lenore first saw material, then fur. Neatly folded on top, was a new shirt, then long underwear, and wool trousers. She laughed out loud and turned to face her husband.
He returned her humor with a large grin. "I know it's not what you were expecting, but I can't let my help-meet freeze."
Help-meet. She'd heard the term coined by her pastor once. He had referred to a marriage where two people equally worked together, in perfect companionship.
Heston nodded toward the package. "That's not all."
Lenore shuffled through the extra garments and found at the bottom, a new pair of fur-lined boots. A gasp escaped her as she covered her mouth with her hands. She knew their expense. For they were very similar to a pair she had boldly asked her father for at the start of their journey but was denied.
She turned to him. "Heston . . ."
A gentle smile met hers. "So you're pleased?"
"Very much. Thank you."
His eyes darkened and he lingered in front of her as if wanting to kiss her again. Lenore battled what she should do. Her lips ached for his affection but fear of where it might lead kept her from swaying toward him.
Heston moved toward the door with hesitant steps. Did he want to stay inside with her? "I'll ready the pack mule and the horses."
"You have horses?" Pleasure over not having to walk filled her voice.
He nodded, his eyes still settled on her with serious contemplation. "It now seems I have everything I need."
Lenore shifted her gaze to the floor. A man's attention was something new to her and she didn't know how to receive it. She didn't want to appear ungrateful, but how did she deal with the embarrassment it caused. Was it embarrassment, or excitement? She couldn’t determine which and busied herself with breakfast as an excuse not to give more time to her thoughts.
***
Heston smiled to himself for his recent blessings. He'd prayed for a wife most of his life. And though his marriage to Lenore had been spur of the moment, he didn't feel he'd settled for second best. No, he was sure Lenore would prove to be the exact woman his prayers had centered on.
She rode next to him with barely contained excitement. Her thrill over the fur-lined boots he'd purchased, still hadn't worn off. He watched as she pointed her toes away from her mount to stare at them again. Each time she did, a smile would stretch across her face as bright as a sunrise.
"We're coming up on my first trap. I'll need to check each one as we pass, but I don't expect to find anything yet."
Lenore nodded, still smiling from her boots. She looked as attractive in her new men's-wear as she did in her dress. Perhaps because she represented an end to his lonely life. Heston had lived alone for so long he'd forgotten how much he enjoyed companionship. But life with Lenore would change that. He found her youthful energy almost as attractive as her physical beauty and looked forward to learning more about her.
"So tell me about this town you were headed to."
Lenore stopped smiling and shrugged her shoulders. "My father was promised a good job, my step-mother has family there, and my brother will have a better school."
Her words sounded as if she were reciting a paper for school. "What did you have to look forward to?"
She gave him a mock look of pleasure, "Meeting a cousin that wouldn't write back."
"Sounds exciting."
A half giggle escaped her. His gifts had broken a barrier between them. They were now blessed with a comfort zone that would normally only come from time spent courting. "There was also talk of marriage." She tipped her head shyly and looked at him.
Heat rushed to Heston's face. "Marriage?" He raised his voice. "I thought you said you weren't spoken for?"
Had he stolen someone else's betrothed? A dishonest betrothed, at that?
"I'm not. Or, I wasn't." She matched her tone to his. "What I meant was my step-mother mentioned there would be possible suitors."
She tossed her head as if to shake off a fly. "Oh bother, you do have a temper, don't you?"
Heston tipped back his head and laughed. She certainly would be good for him. He knew he had a temper, but she'd be able to hold her own and rein him in when needed. The momentary tension fell away and they soon resumed a comfortable air.
"My first trap is around this bend. I'll dismount and leave you in care of my horse, while I check it out."
He watched Lenore nod in agreement. If she was nervous at the prospect of him shooting an animal, it didn't show. His chest swelled with pride. Thank you, Lord.
A few hours passed and again Lenore waited as Heston peered around the tree to note the condition of his last trap. Just as he had expected, empty as the others, perhaps on their return they would boast of bounty.
He turned to follow his steps back to Lenore. When she came into sight, he paused and stared at her in awe. A shaft of sunlight broke through the trees and bathed her in a golden hue. Her soft skin took on the radiance of a happy new bride, excited about her future.
But she wasn't, was she? The thought hit him hard in the chest. Heston had forced her into a marriage she wasn't prepared for. In a few short hours, she would be saying good-bye to the most secure part of her being–her family. What would she think of him then?
Lenore caught sight of him on the path and held a finger to her lips. He followed her gaze and saw she'd been watching a herd of deer. They stretched their necks toward boughs of trees, desperate to satisfy their winter hunger.
Heston didn't want to ruin the moment for her, but her family could probably use the venison. Unable to gain her attention, he readied his shotgun. As he pulled a bead on a fattened doe, Lenore kicked her heels into her mount and scared the deer away.
A gasp sounded from her lips. "What were you doing?"
Her patronizing tone grated against him. "Most likely, your family could've used the venison."
"You were going to shoot them without warning me?"
Heston ran a hand over his face. Had he really wanted this? "I'm not going to explain myself to a silly woman. We need to make tracks if we're going to get to the pass before night-fall."
He caught the fall of her face and tried to convince himself he didn't care. He didn't owe her an explanation and to start now would only train her to be a nagging wife. He was the head of their house-hold, and she didn't need to question him.
But regret still soured his stomach.
Chapter Six
Lenore shifted in the saddle to put as much of her back to Heston as possible. Silly woman- ha! He hadn't thought she was silly when he pulled her outside in front of the preacher. The nerve of the man.
She pictured his arrogant red head, purposefully refusing to acknowledge his eyes. Father had always told her to steer clear of red-heads. Ruled by their tempers, they'd never be able to offer her the life he felt she deserved. He was about to be disappointed.
They broke through the last stand of trees as the sun was setting and her family's wagon came into view. Lenore let out a whoop and kicked her heels into her mount. Heston's growl toward her actions was thrown aside as her little brother came into view.
Lenore pulled her horse to a halt and jumped down. Henry was in her arms in seconds. Holding him had never felt so good.
"Let me look at you." Lenore knelt to the ground and took in his every feature. "It seems like a life-time since I left."
"Ah, Sis," the six-year old pushed her hands away from his face with embarrassment. "You've only been gone a couple days.
Lenore nodded her head solemnly. "Yes, well a couple of days can cause a lot of change."
She glanced behind her and noted Heston. He'd stopped a di
stance away to give her this time with her family. Did he expect her to explain him to her parents? If so, he'd soon learn, she could act like a red-head, too. This whole marriage was his idea. He could be the one to tell her father.
With the thought of her father he appeared, limping the same as when she'd left for help.
"Lenore!" He encased her in his burly arms. "You made it back, and with help."
Lenore followed the gesture of his hand to Heston who began walking toward them. "Father, this is Heston Miller."
If her father felt ill toward the man because of his hair color, it didn't show. He shook Heston's hand with a good-hearted nature. "I'm, Castle, and I thank you for your assistance. I was so worried I'd made a mistake allowing Lenore to leave."
Heston's eyes trailed to Lenore as a knowing smile followed. "You made no mistake, rest assured."
Her father cleared his throat, seeming uncertain of Heston's meaning. His gaze took in Lenore's clothing as worry filled his eyes. Lenore broke the awkward air and asked about her step-mother. "Where's Zoey, Father?"
"She might still be napping. This cold has threatened her health. I've encouraged her to get more rest."
Lenore took note of the concern in his voice. He lost his first wife in a similar way. She couldn't bear to think of him having to face that again.
Heston stepped back and opened a pouch on the pack-mule. "I have something that might help."
Lenore widened her eyes in surprise. He was offering to help her step-mother? Shame over her surprise quickly followed. Of course he wanted to help. He wasn't a bad man, just . . . just what, exactly? He had wanted to shoot the deer, not for his own use, but for her family. He hadn't expected her to fulfill any wifely duties, he'd packed their things and set out to, again, help her family. Then what was it that aggravated her so much about this man?
Clueless, Lenore accepted her brother's hand and followed the men to the wagon. They waited outside while her father woke his wife. Heston started a fire and began to melt snow to mix with the tonic. Lenore stepped toward him. "Can I help?"
Heston didn't look up. "You're speaking to me again?"
Lenore's face heated with more shame. She had ignored him the last hours of their trip. God forgive my immaturity.