An Uninvited Bride on his Doorstep by Ava Winters
Chapter Nine
Winona gazed at the ceiling, lost in thought.
“I’m married,” she whispered. “I’m a wife.” She wondered that the thought would bring her such exhilaration. She married to escape Jude and there was tremendous relief knowing she was protected from ever having to entertain a union with him again. She married also to escape her parents’ house. It was a chance for her to have a life of her own, one not dependent on her stepmother’s plans or her father’s approval.
Still, she did have a husband. She was gaining freedom from her parents, and she was sure to have more autonomy as Logan’s wife than as Jude’s, but she wasn’t truly a free woman, was she?
Yes, she decided. She was. True, she was yoked to Logan and expected to submit to him as a good wife should, but he was the husband she chose. This was the life she took, not the one given to her by someone else. It was her life, for good or for ill and right now, that was enough.
She looked around her room at the now familiar oak furniture and gingham curtains. Logan had removed the Henry rifle the night of their wedding, so the walls lay bare now. He’d taken the sheepskin rug from the parlor and laid it in front of the bed, offering the room a small degree of additional comfort.
Her injuries had improved considerably over the week since she’d married Logan. Her headaches had ceased and the bruise on her head had faded to a small purple mark that no longer felt tender to the touch. Her ankle remained tightly wrapped but Dr. Caraway had removed the splints and promised to bring a pair of crutches when he visited today so she could begin to move around the house.
Winona couldn’t wait for the chance to explore her new home. She was eager to get to know the house better, the brothers better, Logan better, everything better. She still felt like an outsider. Logan visited every evening but never for more than a few minutes and anyway, she shouldn’t have to confine her involvement in the household to that of closeted spectator. This was her home now. She needed to be a part of it.
She was also eager to prove she could be a capable wife. Her stepmother’s words hurt her more than she cared to admit.
Her brow furrowed in anger. Who was Audrey to suggest she couldn’t run a household? When had Audrey ever run the household, besides to bark orders at servants? Audrey had never cleaned or cooked that Winona had ever seen. What would she know about running a ranch?
Logan warned her of the history between their families. He understandably believed Winona would be discouraged by such news and possibly reconsider the marriage. Instead of discouraging her, Winona found it motivated her. She wanted to rub it in her parents’ face that not only was she married to her father’s enemy, but she was a capable wife to him as well. She felt a little guilty that wanting to embarrass her parents was part of the reason why she wanted her marriage to succeed, but it was.
A knock sounded at the door and her heartbeat quickened. She realized her hair was untied and hung loosely around her shoulders. “One second!” she called.
She glanced around frantically for her hair tie, but it was nowhere to be seen. After several moments, she heard more knocking at the door and sighed in frustration. “Come in!”
The door opened and Logan entered the room. His hair was slightly matted, and his face wore a sheen of sweat from working all day. Her gaze traveled over his strong, hard body and a flush crept into her cheeks.
“Good day, Miss Winona,” Dr. Caraway said.
Winona jumped and colored slightly. She hadn’t noticed Dr. Caraway follow Logan into the room. “Good afternoon, doctor.”
Dr. Caraway smiled warmly and sat in the chair next to the bed. “How are we feeling today?” he asked.
“Much better,” Winona replied. “My headache’s finally gone, and the bruise doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“That’s wonderful news!” Dr. Caraway said. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Not at all.”
Dr. Caraway leaned forward and gently probed at the mark on her head. The pressure was uncomfortable but not painful and after a few seconds, Dr. Caraway leaned back and nodded, satisfied. “The injury to the tissue has healed. That’s very good. However, I would caution you against any strenuous activity for at least another fortnight. Even though you aren’t feeling any discomfort, there’s a chance your concussion is still healing.”
Winona smiled wryly. “Where can I go on this ankle?” she asked.
“Speaking of the ankle,” Dr. Caraway said. “Let’s have a look.” He reached for the hem of Winona’s dress. “May I?”
Winona nodded. The doctor gently lifted the hem halfway up her calf and examined the bandages over her ankle. He began gently unwinding them. When the bandages were removed, Dr. Caraway gently lifted her ankle and probed at the sight of the wound. Winona winced but the ankle hurt far less than it had before.
After a few moments, Dr. Caraway smiled. “Your ankle is healing quickly. I think we can move forward with the crutches. I’ll replace these bandages and get them from the parlor for you.”
As he wrapped new linens around her ankle, Winona felt excitement rise within her. She was finally going to leave this room!
“All done,” Dr. Caraway said when he finished tying the dressing. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He stood and exited to the parlor.
Winona turned to Logan and smiled. She was pleased to see him color slightly. He cleared his throat and said, “Good day, Winona.”
“Good day, Logan. How are things on the ranch?”
Before Logan could reply, Dr. Caraway returned to the room, holding two carved maple crutches. “Jed Tucker finished these this morning,” he said. “Would you like to try them out?”
Winona nodded eagerly and Logan stepped forward to help her up. He placed one hand under her arm and grasped her hand with the other. She felt as though a bolt of lightning ran through her when they touched. She couldn’t resist a glance at him. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Winona was transported away. Then Logan handed her to Dr. Caraway and her reason returned. She colored, embarrassed. Now was not the time to get carried away with these absurd romantic fantasies!
Dr. Caraway helped her place her hands over the crutches and grip them so that they supported her weight. With a little practice, she was able to use them to walk around the room. She slipped once but Logan was there to catch her.
As she righted herself, she felt a warm feeling in her chest. It was a simple gesture and could hardly be interpreted as affection, but it touched her nonetheless. She smiled gratefully at him and the way he averted his eyes and flushed before responding suggested there might after all be some affection in the care he showed for her.
“They take some getting used to,” Dr. Caraway encouraged. “Still, you’ve shown remarkable progress. Continue to be patient with your recovery and you should be back to normal in a few months.”
Winona’s heart sank. A few months? She felt so much better, though! She hadn’t expected to be dancing through the house right away, but she’d thought surely a fortnight’s more rest would be sufficient.
Her disappointment must have showed, because Dr. Caraway smiled and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “These things take time, Winona. Keep your spirits up. It’s only for a while longer.”
Winona smiled. “Thank you, doctor.”
He beamed and squeezed her shoulder, then turned to Logan. “I’ll be by in another week to replace her bandages and check on her progress. Encourage her to walk around but keep her indoors for now. We need to make sure we don’t cause a reinjury.” He turned to Winona. “I’ll see you later, Miss Winona. Take care.”
“Goodbye, doctor.”
Winona was a little irritated that Dr. Caraway instructed Logan to restrict her movements right in front of her as though she were a child, but her irritation disappeared when Logan offered his arm. She tossed one crutch onto the bed and took the offered arm. He led her from the room into the short hallway that led to the parlor.
She leaned against him heavily for support, but he showed no signs of exertion. He was so strong! He led them through the parlor to the kitchen. A wood-burning stove dominated one end of the kitchen while a table and six chairs of the same rough-hewn oak that composed the bedroom furniture dominated the other end. There was a wash basin and an icebox as well. A tall, wooden pantry completed the furnishings.
The kitchen was well-furnished, though modestly so compared to her kitchen back ho—back at her parents’ house—but it was covered in dust and grime. Cracks and splinters peppered the wall and the table and chairs, and the floor lay under a thin coating of dirt. It was clear it had been some time since the room was cleaned.
Logan helped her sit at the table then walked over to the stove. He added wood from a small pile next to the stove and lit the fire. Within moments, the warmth from the fire reached Winona. She settled comfortably in her chair and watched Logan cook.
Fortunately, the tin pan he removed from a hook over the stove appeared far cleaner than the rest of the kitchen. “How do you like your eggs?” he asked her.
“Scrambled,” she replied. “You know how to cook?”
He shrugged. “I’m not the fanciest cook in Texas but I can throw some grub together in a pinch. Truth be told, my brothers and I are looking forward to having a real woman-cooked meal.” He glanced at her. “When you’re well, of course.”
“Of course,” she replied, smiling with a confidence she didn’t feel at all. She’d never needed to cook at her old home. Audrey insisted Heath retain servants for all of the cooking and cleaning. Winona didn’t know the first thing about cooking! And now her husband expected her to cook for him. Of course he did. What wife couldn’t cook for her husband?
Well, she would just have to learn. If the first few meals didn’t work out, she could say she was still affected by her injury. Hopefully, she could learn enough quickly enough that she wouldn’t embarrass herself or embarrass Logan.
As the eggs cooked, Logan retrieved several sausage links from the icebox and dropped them into another frying pan. They sizzled and Winona’s mouth watered as she caught their scent across the room.
A wave of guilt ran through her. What would Logan think of her when he learned she couldn’t cook? Would he see her as just a spoiled brat who’d never needed to work for anything in her life? She hoped desperately she could prove she was more than that.
A few minutes later, Logan returned to the table with two plates loaded with eggs, sausage links and toasted bread. “Eat hearty,” he said.
“What?”
“Oh,” he reddened slightly. “Just something my Pa used to say at every meal. He’d say, ‘Eat hearty,’ and we’d all dig in.”
Winona looked down at the steaming plate. “That sounds just fine to me,” she said.
He smiled and his chest puffed out adorably. “Yeah, I’m not the fanciest cook in Texas but I can throw together some grub in a pinch.”
She smiled slightly. “You said that already.”
“Oh,” he reddened even more. “Well, anyway, I’m glad you like your food.”
She did like it. It was filling and delicious and simple. Most importantly, it was hers. Her food at her table in her home. “Thank you, Logan,” she said sincerely.
He reddened even more, and Winona thought he would make a very handsome tomato. The thought brought a smile to her face and Logan shifted uncomfortably before clearing his throat and saying, “So how are you liking it? Here, I mean?”
She smiled wryly at him. “Well, the bedroom is quite lovely. I’m afraid I’ll have to reserve opinion on the rest once I’ve seen it.”
“Oh,” Logan said, red-faced. He looked down. “Right.”
Winona felt guilty for teasing him. She reached forward and laid her hand on his arm. “I like it here,” she said. “Thank you.”
He perked up and smiled at her. “Good. I’m glad. How’re your eggs?”
“They’re delicious,” she said and meant it. “I’m afraid you might be a better cook than I am.”
He laughed, a rich, hearty sound that clashed with his boyish face. She smiled and a moment later, started laughing too. She regarded him as he wiped tears from his face. It was so strange to think she had a husband! Her husband himself was a stranger.
“Oh,” Logan said when his laughter had calmed. “I’m sure you’ll amaze all of us once you’re up to cooking again.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be amazed,” she said. How on earth was she going to learn to cook? Maybe she could pick up some tips from Logan. Her eggs were cooked perfectly, and the sausage toasted to that perfect balance between juiciness and crispness. She’d had fancier food by far but couldn’t immediately recall a time she’d had better food.
After breakfast, Logan offered his arm again and showed her around the house. Besides the parlor, there was a small drawing room with a rough-hewn table similar to the one in her bedroom, and an ornately carved upholstered chair. Even covered in the same layer of dust that permeated everything else in the house, the chair was by far the most expensive piece of furniture she’d seen.
“My mother’s,” Logan explained. “My grandmother left it to her.”
After the drawing room, there was her own room then two other bedrooms belonging to Gregory and Jay. The final room was also a bedroom but much larger and more well-appointed than the others, though not quite so large or comfortable as her old room at the Ross ranch.
In addition to the natural handmade table and chair set present in all of the rooms, there was a bureau chest made of maple, with a large vanity mirror on top. An armoire, also of maple, stood on the opposite wall. The room was dominated by a large four-poster bed with a huge down mattress. The furniture was chipped and dusty and the sheets that covered the bed were torn and disheveled. Everything was covered in the ubiquitous layer of dust. Despite this, the room carried an air of reverence.
“This was your parent’s room,” Winona guessed.
“It was,” Logan said. “It’s yours now. I’m going to sleep in my old room, the one you’ve been using.”
Winona was amazed. “Oh, Logan, I can’t take your parents’ room!”
“Your room,” he insisted. “This is your house now.”
She smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Logan. That’s very kind of you.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome. I’ll go bring your stuff over.”
He returned a moment later with her chest, boots and art supplies. Winona stared in wonder. She could barely move the chest, let alone lift it. Logan carried it over his shoulder with one arm and appeared untroubled by the weight. His muscles bulged and Winona’s heartbeat quickened.
He set the chest against the wall, the boots by the door and the art supplies on top of the table. “I have to help Gregory and Jay with the chores, but I’ll be by to check on you later.”
“Okay, thank you.”
He smiled at her and stood awkwardly for a moment. Then he nodded and left.
Winona thought of her breakfast with Logan and smiled. It seemed a small thing that they shared a meal together, but it meant so much. It meant she was starting to belong, to really belong. This life of hers was no longer a fantasy to consume her idle hours, it was real. It was real and it was hers.
Almost hers. She needed to give back in order to feel like she truly deserved the life she had. She could start by cleaning the house as soon as she was healthy enough to do so. She looked around at the dilapidated bedroom. “Where do I even begin?”
She sat on the bed and a cloud of dust flew into the air around her. Well, she thought, at least I know where to begin now.