Jillian Hart - The Horseman

Perhaps, her life with the horseman would be pleasant. Peaceful enough so she could pretend not to feel her grief. She might find it easier to breathe in and out. To face each day and muddle through it. For what life could she ever have without her heart?

“When do you want to get married?” His touch to her face turned reverent. “Wait. Maybe it’s best to get breakfast first. And the doctor, he’s going to have to see if you’re strong enough to ride in a sleigh. I don’t want you tired out.”

“Wait, Dillon, I-”

“I’ll ask the town minister when he has time to perform a ceremony. Marry me now, and I’ll take you home today. I’ll take care of you.”

Maybe I’ve made the wrong decision. She took his big hand in hers, workingman’s hands. Callused from holding leather reins and training leads. Hands that were brown from the sun and rough from the wind. Dependable, capable hands that had made her feel alive.

She hadn’t thought what he would want from her in a marriage. This man, whose heart showed in his honest excitement and his affectionate touch.

Should she change her mind? Now, while she had the chance? And how could she? He cared for her so much.

“I’ll go fetch your breakfast. That’s the first thing.”

He is a good man. A hard pain twisted in her chest. The pain of starting to care for someone again. Coming up through the grief in her heart like a seedling through snow.

“Open your gifts. Go on.” He handed her a package from the corner of the bed. “I’ll be back. Want anything special from the kitchen?”

“No.” She set the afghan aside and stood. “I need to talk to you about something. You seem to have the wrong impression.”

“I do?”

“You said that honesty is the best course between a man and a woman.”

“I sure did.” He took one look at her furrowed brow and his happiness withered. He gripped the lip of the wooden mantel for support. Was she going to change her mind?

“I don’t know what you are expecting of me as your wife.” She might be a petite woman who looked as delicate as the china cup she’d been drinking from, but she had backbone. Standing up to him. Looking him in the eye.

He liked it. She’d never been more attractive to him. He should have known she wasn’t about to go back on her word. “I guess I’m expecting the usual. Fidelity. Honesty. A happy home.”

“Fine, but I mean, from me. The wedding night? Do you expect-”

“No.” He hated seeing fear shiver through her. What had that bastard done to her? He hid his fury, schooling it from his voice, because he didn’t want to frighten her.

He’d never want to do that. “I know getting used to me is going to be an adjustment. I’m not going to rush you on certain, er, uh, intimacies. It’s not a duty, and I don’t want you thinking you have to submit to me, all right?”

Her fisted hands relaxed. Relief erased some of the furrows from her crinkled brow. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Why thank me? It’s only natural that you’ll need time. In the meanwhile, I’ll draw baths for you and tuck you in at night. Is that a deal?”

What a man he is. There was no way he could know what his understanding meant to her. She pushed aside memories of Brett’s impatience on their wedding night. And the act of marriage that she dreaded.

Dillon’s touch had been tender and thrilling. Caring. As had his whispered confession when he’d thought she slept. I love you. I do.

No one in her adult life had said they loved her. The power of those words gave her courage now. She never wanted to hurt this man who stood as tough as a mountain and hid a gallant soul.

Just tell him, Katelyn. She took a breath while he waited. “I know how you feel, but you need to know that I don’t love you.”

“Yet.”

“I’m sorry. I want to be honest with you.”

“I already know that, angel.” His eyes looked pinched, but he stood as unshakable as ever.

“And you still want to marry me?”

“Darlin’, I’d do anything for the privilege of having you for my wife.” He stole the ring from the table, cradled her left hand in his and slipped the band of gold on her finger.

“No matter what happens in our life together, I will never abandon you. I’ll never cast you aside. This is for always, Katelyn. I’ll forever stand by you.”

How could he know what his words meant to her?

He kissed her cheek, a tender brush of his lips. In her view, he stood taller and greater than he ever had before.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?” The minister’s question hit Dillon like a sucker punch.

Although he had two weeks to get used to the idea that she’d said yes, it still left him reeling and gasping for air. You’d think a man who’d done nothing but wish for Katelyn’s hand in marriage since he’d spotted her on that first moonlight night wouldn’t be quaking in his boots when he was getting exactly what he wanted. But he was. It wasn’t getting married that was scaring him.

His bride kept glancing toward the door.

Did she want to escape? Was she going to dash off down the empty aisle in the middle of her vows? Or was she simply going to say she’d rather crawl on her hands and knees over the Rocky Mountains in winter than marry a workingman like him?

Worrying about whether she’d bolt or not was going to give him an apoplexy.

Don’t let me down, angel. Since he was in a church, he hoped the heavens would hear his request.

“Repeat after me,” the minister instructed. “I, Dillon Michael Hennessey…”

He did his best to concentrate. He didn’t want to make a mistake. He meant these words with all he was. Heart, body and soul. “…to honor and cherish, in sickness and in health,” he vowed. He felt as tall as the sky. In a few more moments, she would be his wife.

His wife. He couldn’t believe it. He felt near to bursting with pride.

“I, Katherine Lyn Green,” she spoke, her words vibrating like a harp’s string, she sounded so nervous.

You have nothing to fear, he wanted to tell her. He’d never let anything hurt her. He’d protect her with his life, love her with his heart.

She was beautiful in one of the dresses he’d bought for her. In fact, everything she wore had been from him. It was thoughtful of her, since the clothes she’d brought with her in her little satchel were much fancier.

But in the green-and-tan calico she looked more like a horseman’s wife. Her hair was up in a knot, and a few unruly curls had tumbled over her brow and into her eyes. Such a beautiful woman, and she was his. All his.

The ceremony was almost over. She hadn’t run yet. She’d repeated her vows perfectly. Her palms against his were damp and he could feel her fear the same way he could feel the flutter of her pulse at his fingertips.

“If there is any reason…” the minister called out in the empty church.

Words Katelyn could not listen to. They reminded her of another wedding, of feeling as if she’d been handed a jail sentence with a man she didn’t love.

What was she doing marrying another man she didn’t love?

Dillon is different. He’s kind. He’s good. I care about him. But she didn’t love him. Her mind swirled with doubt. What if this marriage turned out no better than the last?

No, Dillon was different. Better.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.” The minister’s words drew her from her thoughts and into the small church as her husband took her face in his hands, gazed down at her as if he cherished her only and utterly and covered her lips with his.

His kiss was like moonlight on the prairie. Stunning. Silvery. So beautiful it hurt. Tears gathered in her eyes. Hope took seed in her soul.

What about this man? He broke the kiss and in the reverent silence that followed, he folded her against him, his arms closed around her. Her cheek rested against his chest. She fit against him as if she’d been made to. Something happened inside her. Something changed. His hand settled into the small of her neck. His lips brushed her brow once and again.

How did he do it? How could he reach inside her like that with a kiss? Why could he stir her in places long dead and buried? Like frozen ground beneath a winter’s snow? It hurt, this quiet affection finding life inside her.

His hand stroked her face, lifted her chin to meet his eyes, and when he smiled, the ice cracked. Like winter into spring, she felt as if she were breaking inside and renewing. She didn’t know what the feeling was in her chest, growing and spreading and hurting all at once. It was more than caring. More than affection.

Was it love?

“C’mon, Mrs. Hennessey.” He grinned at her and kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me take you home.”

With him. She took a step down the aisle, through the echoing church. The pews were empty. Already her life was different. When she’d married Brett, it had been in a crowded church with her mother fussing about how everything had to look and her stepfather furious about last-minute expenses.

It will be different this time. This time, there was only her and Dillon. There was no expensive wedding dress, just the crisp new calico she wore. The marriage would be different, too, because the man was.

He held the door for her, and a bright sun warmed them.

Nearly two weeks had passed since she’d accepted Dillon’s proposal and the weather had turned again. Melting snow plopped off the edge of the roof as she followed Dillon down the front steps and into the churchyard. A mild wind blew over her face as Dillon took her hand and helped her into his small wagon’s high board seat.

He climbed in beside her. “Thank you for marrying me. I thought you were going to jilt me a few times. You kept looking at the door.”