“It was not mine, but I couldn’t tell anyone that. I would either paint Victoria a less than virtuous woman—which she was—or I appeared to be a philanderer, using a woman and then turning my head to a burden I’d put upon her. I did the honorable thing and married her.”
“Just like with me.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s not the same at all. I didn’t like Victoria. I didn’t desire her. I never touched her. Ever. She died in childbirth.”
“Abel.”
“Yes. I was a widower with a newborn son. I moved west within the year. I couldn’t have done it without Mrs. Tunbridge.” I grinned, thinking of the woman who’d been nanny, housekeeper and mother-figure in one.
“But Abel said—”
“He’s not a child who has a new mother to raise him,” I said, speaking over her. “His opinion isn’t relevant. While I would like him to accept you… us, he is an adult. But no matter his feelings, he had no right to disrespect you, or what we have. I told him that. Told him that I had been trapped, but not because of your virtue, but because of love.”
Her eyes flared with surprise. “Love? All you’ve done is scold and punish me.”
I couldn’t help the way my mouth tipped up at that. “Kitten, I remember quite a few other things we’ve done besides punish you.”
Her cheeks, while full of color already, darkened even more. “I have never sought out another bride. Never wanted one. One look at you and I was done for. I’ll admit, I was surprised at first when James suggested it, but am damned glad he did.”
“Love?” she repeated, as if the idea was preposterous.
I took a step closer to her. When she didn’t move away, I advanced again until I stood directly before her. Reaching up, I carefully stroked her cheek, then wiped another tear away with my thumb.
“Kitten, you wouldn’t be this upset if you didn’t care. If you didn’t have feelings for me, for James, for our marriage, then nothing Abel said would have bothered you.”
Perhaps I should heed those words as well. I wouldn’t have been riled by Abel’s words if I’d only had a quick tumble while in Butte. While I didn’t discuss such activities with my son, he knew I was not a monk.
She blinked. Thought. Then burst into tears. I pulled her into my arms, held her tightly and let her cry. I kissed the top of her head, ran my hand up and down her back, did everything I could to comfort her. A crying woman was hard to take, especially mine.
“Shh, Kitten. You’re a good girl. So good. I’m proud of you.”
I held her to soothe her, but I had to admit, for me as well. She’d kept this to herself, let us believe she was different than we imagined. While she was definitely impetuous, she was also kind. Caring. Thoughtful.
She wasn’t driven by money. Wasn’t frivolous or flighty. She was… Tennessee.
The tears abated and she looked up at me, all splotchy and red-eyed. “I’m sorry,” she replied, sniffling.
Pulling a handkerchief from my pocket, I dried her cheeks, but kept one hand about her waist. “No. I’m sorry. If James were here, he’d apologize, too. You should have been punished for what you did in Butte.” She stiffened in my hold but I didn’t release her, only continued. “However, James and I should have taken into account why you did it.”
When she didn’t say anything to that, I pushed on. “You said your sisters are in danger. That you need to go to Fargo to save them.”
She nodded. “But I don’t have any money, and the man has been travelling a week.”
“I do.”
A little V formed in her brow, and I smoothed it away with my thumb. I wanted to take away all her problems with so simple a gesture.
“You have cows,” she countered. “Mr. Grimsby wanted money. Cash. Abigail told him she didn’t have any, that while her brother’s ranch was vast, she couldn’t bring him a cow.”
I smiled, for I pictured Abigail Carr leading a cow down the sidewalk in Butte.
“Kitten, we have cows… and cash. While I can’t speak in detail of James’ finances, I can estimate they are vast. As for me, I have enough money to get to Fargo. France, even.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed. “Oh.”
“And you intended to win the money? That was why you were at the saloon in Butte and now, were headed to Travis Point?”
“Yes. I’m quite good. It was the one thing my father taught me.”