The Unexpected Bride (The Unexpected Sinclares Book 1) Page 20

  Peter drifted across the room toward the bookcases.

  Elthia studied his back. “Is something the matter, Peter?”

  The boy picked up whatever he’d come after and stuffed it in his pocket. “Nothing worth talking about,” he answered stiffly.

  Elthia wrinkled her brow. “But surely—”

  Peter’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “I told you, I’m fine. Just leave me alone.” With that he fled the room.

  Dismayed, Elthia wondered what had caused him to react so angrily. She’d have to ask Caleb. Perhaps he’d noticed something happen to Peter outside. But right now she had to take advantage of Caleb’s absence to finish preparations for tomorrow. No party would be complete without a cake.

  When she entered the kitchen, Elthia looked out into the back yard. Caleb and Keith were now ranged against Alex and Kevin in the game of horseshoes. Elthia chewed on her lip as she noticed Peter was nowhere to be seen.

  It looked like she’d have the kitchen to herself, though, for just a little longer.

  Elthia pulled out a book of recipes she’d found earlier. She debated about whether or not to call Zoe down, just to look over her shoulder while she worked, but then decided against it. She wanted to do this on her own. And with such detailed directions to follow, how hard could it be?

  Elthia set to work. It would be nice to be able to brag on having made the cake herself. As she gathered and mixed the specified ingredients, she found herself puzzled by a few of the instructions. But she used her ingenuity to plow her way through and finally was able to pour the batter into a pan and slip it into the oven.

  There! The hard part was over. Nothing to it really. All she had to do now was keep an eye on it so it didn’t overcook.

  Basking in the glow of her newfound confidence, Elthia decided that she should be a little firmer with Zoe about taking over some of the kitchen duties from her.

  As she worked to clean up the mess she’d made, her thoughts turned to Peter. He’d come so far these past few days, it would be heartbreaking if he turned back into that sullen youth he’d been when she first arrived. She’d have to keep a close eye out the next few days for signs that might indicate the cause of his moodiness.

  But for now there was a birthday celebration to plan.

  Alex shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s awfully flat,” he said doubtfully.

  Kevin wrinkled his nose. “It smells funny.”

  Keith poked at it with a finger. “It’s hard as a rock.”

  Josie gave Elthia a pleading look. “Do we have to eat it?”

  Elthia looked at the children, who in turn were studying the lump that lined the bottom of the cake pan. She herself avoided looking at it. Her last glance had almost reduced her to tears.

  “No, Josie,” she answered the apprehensive child. “I don’t believe even Poppy would eat any of this one.”

  Alex cocked an eyebrow at her. “Want me to get Zoe?”

  Elthia swallowed her pride and nodded meekly. “Yes, please.” Then she turned to the twins. “You boys keep an eye on your uncle’s office. Let me know if he comes out anytime soon.”

  When Zoe stepped into the kitchen, she joined the group gathered around the counter. After a moment she said, without looking up, “You’re supposed to use flour, not cornmeal.”

  Elthia winced. She thought she had used flour.

  “Don’t worry,” the girl announced. “There’s still plenty of time. I’ll make us a really special one using some strawberry preserves.” She cast Elthia an apologetic look as she said this.

  Miserably realizing this twelve-year-old actually felt sorry for her, Elthia nodded. “Come on,” she said to the others. “Let’s get rid of this mess and give Zoe room to work.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The house was utterly quiet. Elthia sat alone in the parlor, trying to finish Caleb’s birthday present.

  After putting the children to bed, she’d told Caleb she planned to stay up a while. Thankfully he’d gone to bed almost immediately. That was an hour ago. She’d restarted work on one seam three times. But all she had left now was the buttons.

  All in all, it hadn’t been one of her better days. Peter still had that chip firmly glued to his shoulder, she’d failed miserably at her first venture into baking, and now this late-night session with the shirt.

  She was so tired she was having trouble concentrating. The fact that it was so oppressively muggy still wasn’t helping her any. Placing the buttons just so had become an onerous chore.

  At last! She picked up her scissors. A snip of the thread and she could go up to bed.

  A moment later Elthia stared in horror at what she’d just done. No! It wasn’t possible, not after all the work she’d put into this.

  But there it was. The slash in the sleeve leered at her, glaring proof that she’d failed at yet one more thing.

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. Sobs clogged her throat, threatening to erupt in loud, pitiful wails. She had to get out of the house before she woke someone.

  Elthia jerked to her feet. She moved through the hall as quietly as she could, but haste drove her more than caution.

  It was time to admit the truth. No amount of resolve could change the fact that she was a complete failure as a homemaker and wife. She’d been fooling herself to think she’d fit in here.

  And, heaven help her, the fact that she could lose this newfound family hurt much more than she would have thought possible. Somehow, over the past weeks, her goal had shifted from proving her independence to proving herself a good wife and mother.

  Grabbing a lamp from the kitchen, she headed for the barn as if it were a sanctuary. Her personal demon ran alongside her. Nothing she ever put her hand to worked as she intended, it mocked. The Tanners… Caleb… deserved so much better than this.

  Halfway across the backyard, she stumbled and fell to her knees, just barely maintaining her hold on the lamp. Doggedly she stood and resumed her flight. She wouldn’t loose the choking flood of emotions until she was safely inside.

  Caleb rolled over for about the twentieth time in as many minutes. He hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep since he’d come up here. Seems he’d grown used to falling asleep to the sound of Elthia’s soft breathing, to the feel of her presence in the room.

  Besides, there’d been something about the way she was acting when she talked about staying up for a while, something that didn’t quite ring true. It was nagging at him, and he’d been looking for an excuse to go down and check on her.

  The sound of someone leaving the house, though, brought his feet to the floor in a heartbeat. He shot to the window, where he caught sight of Elthia stumbling her way to the barn.

  Something was wrong.

  He snagged a pair of pants and tugged them on as he crossed the room. His shirt and boots were left behind.

  He descended the stairs two at a time, raking a hand through his hair. What was wrong? Had he done something to upset her?

  As he strode to the barn, a sprinkling of rain baptized his shoulder, but it was the sound of muffled sobs, not the drizzle, that drove him to sprint the last few yards.

  He paused in the barn’s wide entryway just long enough to get his bearings. Her lamp hung on a hook by the door and bravely guarded a small circle against the encroaching shadows. At the edge of this circle, Elthia lay against a pile of straw, head buried in the crook of her arm, shoulders shaking with each sob.

  Caleb sat beside her and pulled her close, rocking her gently on his lap. Each sob drove a thorn into his soul. He wished there was a dragon to slay, like in one of her stories, an evil villain he could vanquish to bring a smile back to her face.

  Guilt clawed at him. Was she so unhappy here?

  Elthia kept crying, her face buried in her hands, as if oblivious to his presence. Slowly, as he rubbed her back and murmured reassurances, the sobs lessened. Finally, with a watery hiccup, she quieted and her hands lowered, fidgeting with a bit of cloth she held.


  “Feeling better?” He moved his hand up to stroke her hair.

  She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Care to talk about it?”

  She shook her head.

  Caleb couldn’t let it go. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses. “Is it something one of the kids did?” Look up, he silently begged. Let me see your eyes.

  Again, she shook her head.

  He braced himself, asking the question he feared for her to answer. “Is it something I did?”

  Her head shot around at that. “Oh, no! Please don’t think that. It’s just me.”

  He barely had time to register relief that he hadn’t been to blame, when he found himself facing the most beautiful pair of eyes he’d ever seen in his life.

  Stars above, her glasses had been guarding precious jewels. He’d never seen such a pure, deep violet color before. Even swollen from crying, they were lovely, enchanting, mesmerizing.

  Without her glasses, she seemed younger, softer, more vulnerable. The temptation to stroke the tear trails from her cheeks and to kiss the distress from those sweet lips almost overwhelmed him. With a superhuman effort, he pulled his thoughts back to the question of her distress. “What do you mean, it’s just you?”

  She looked down again, and he mourned the lost view of her eyes. “I’m a failure as a homemaker.”

  That was the absolute last thing Caleb had expected to hear. “Nonsense. I think you’re doing quite well.”

  She glanced up quickly, and he again felt the tingling effect of those devastatingly beautiful eyes. Her expression registered surprised gratitude before her face clouded and she lowered her eyes again. “That only speaks to how low your expectations really were. I can’t even follow directions in a recipe book. I tried baking a cake, and not even Poppy would touch the results.”

  He smiled at the top of her head, feeling an unaccustomed tenderness. Who would have thought Lady Privilege would try so hard to fit in? “You’re being too hard on yourself. Just give it time. Besides, you can’t claim to have no skills at all. You’ve been keeping all our clothes mended. No one can complain about your needlework skills.”

  The words he’d intended to bring her comfort instead drew a moan and a fresh flow of tears. He watched helplessly as she buried her face in the piece of cloth she held. “Elthia, sweetheart, whatever I said, I’m sorry. Please, don’t cry.”

  “I am a complete failure.” She jerked her head up and pulled back. She held up the piece of cloth, stretching it between her hands and shaking it with a firm snap.

  It was a man’s shirt but not one of his.

  “Look,” she demanded. “Just look at this. Is this the work of someone who can claim to have needlework skills?”

  Confused by her vehemence, Caleb studied the shirt. She held it by the shoulders, and other than it being badly wrinkled, he could find nothing wrong. “I’m not sure I understand. Did you make it? If so, it seems perfectly all right—”

  “All right?” The volume of her voice rose a notch. She grabbed one of the sleeves and shoved it closer to his face. “Does this look all right to you?”

  He saw it then, the gaping cut in the fabric. But surely that wasn’t such a tragedy. Why the flood of tears?

  She pulled the shirt back and stared at it forlornly. “I don’t even have enough fabric to make a new sleeve.”

  He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “I assume you bought this cloth at the dry goods when we were in town on Friday.”

  She nodded.

  “Well then, next time we go to town we’ll just get some more. Then you can fix it and no one will ever know the difference.”

  She shook her head. “That’ll be too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  She looked up at him, and he could see the tears form again. “I found out your birthday is tomorrow. The cake and this shirt were supposed to be my gifts to you.”

  A shaft of something akin to both pain and pleasure sliced through him. His birthday! No one had made a big deal of the event since his parents died. He’d ceased to even mark the day.

  And she was upset because she’d spoiled his gift? The fact that she’d cared to do anything at all, that she’d put forth a real effort to do something so personal for him, was a far more precious gift than any material item. How could he make her see that, how could he change her tears back to smiles?

  He took the shirt, and he held it up. He heard a soft gasp and from the corner of his eyes saw her eyes widen as she glanced at his chest. Had she only just noticed it was bare?

  Hiding a smile at her flattering display of attention, he continued to study the shirt. “You made this for me?” he asked. “Mind if I try it on?”

  Her gaze shot back to his face. “It’s ruined. Why bother?”

  He shook his head at her with a smile, reluctantly sliding her from his lap as he stood. “Now, now, it’s my gift. Let me be the judge of whether or not it’s ruined.”

  She scrambled to her feet as he donned the shirt, wringing her hands and chewing on her lip. To his dismay, she retrieved her glasses and once again hid the violet beauty of her eyes.

  “Well now,” he said, fastening the first few buttons, “it’s a fine fit. How’d you manage that without taking measurements?”

  She waved dismissively. “I just copied from one of your other shirts.” She reached a hand out as if to stop him from going any further with the buttons, then dropped it again. “Please, you don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

  “Look at this,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t think I own another shirt that fits so well. And see.” He started rolling up his sleeves. “When I wear it like this, that little old slit don’t matter at all.”

  His words only seemed to stoke the fire of her temper. “Stop it!” she demanded, her hands fisted at her sides. “I’m not a little girl to be soothed by a pat on the head. I won’t stand here and listen to your condescending remarks.” She spun on her heel and stalked away.

  Surprise kept Caleb frozen for a moment, then he shot after her. The rain had quickened while they’d been otherwise occupied. She seemed oblivious to it though. She’d already marched several paces outside when he caught up to her.

  Grabbing her elbow, he spun her around. “What do you think you’re doing? Come back to the barn before we both get soaked.”

  For a moment he thought she’d resist, but then she nodded and allowed him to lead her back inside. They stopped just inside the soft circle of light, and Caleb turned to face her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

  He held silent until she finally met his gaze. “I wasn’t trying to be condescending. I truly do appreciate the gift.”

  The stubborn doubt remained in her stony expression. Caleb sighed. There was only one way to make her believe him.

  He held her gaze prisoner while he exposed a piece of his past to her as matter-of-factly as he could. “I came to live with Aunt Cora when I was six. This is the first time since that happened that anyone has taken notice of my birthday.”

  Her expression softened immediately. “Oh, Caleb,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to touch his chest.

  The pressure of her hand burned through his wet shirt, as if they touched flesh to flesh. He nearly groaned at the image that thought conjured. “You see,” he said, desperately trying to focus on her needs, “this shirt is special. It means someone cared enough to make me feel important, if only for a day.”

  She removed her hand from his chest, lifting it to stroke his cheek. “You are special. How could you think otherwise?”

  Caleb lost his struggle to remain detached as tenderness and warmth washed over him. He captured her hand, moving it to his lips. Holding her gaze, he lavished her palm with kisses, tasting greedily of her warm flesh. All thoughts of control, of contracts, of coolly planned schemes, evaporated. There was only this warm, giving woman and his desire to please her.

&n
bsp; Her breath quickened as a delicate shiver shook her. “Oooh!” Her drawn-out, breathy exclamation thrummed through him.

  Caleb drew her into his arms, and she came willingly, lifting her face for the kiss he was all too eager to give her. As soon as their lips touched, the passion ignited. It was like the other kiss they’d shared, but hotter, greedier. His hands moved to her back, massaging her, pulling her closer.

  Far from resisting, she melted against him.

  Could she want him half as much as he wanted her? The idea staggered him, stole the breath from his lungs.

  Then he pulled back slightly and came face-to-face with her utter and complete trust in him. And that was his undoing.

  He couldn’t do it, couldn’t take advantage of her innocence and awakening passions to trap her. She deserved better. She deserved to make this decision freely, not in the throes of untried passion.

  He captured her hands between his, then leaned his forehead against hers, trying to steady his breathing.

  “What’s the matter?” Her voice projected uncertainty, doubt.

  “Elthia, you’re not thinking straight right now.” She appeared so bemused, so sweetly willing. Calling a halt now was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

  Pulling a bit of straw from her hair, he let his gaze follow his hand rather than look at her kiss-swollen face. “You were upset earlier, and then we kissed, and then, well, we got carried away. I don’t think you realize where it was all leading.”

  She cupped his chin. “I know exactly where it was leading. And you don’t have to worry about my regretting it later.” Then she bit her lip as color heated her cheeks again. She had the stricken, vulnerable look of a child who’d just been told her kitten died. “Unless you don’t want… Oh!” Her hand went to her mouth, and she drew back.

  Caleb stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. How could she believe he didn’t desire her? Tilting her chin, he forced her to look at him. “I want to, very much.”