" 'Tis morning, and still you haven't slept." Thomas strode into the room.
Jonah turned from the fire, the stick of wood in his hand, the fire popping and crackling. "And I will not sleep until the doctor says 'tis over, either way."
Together, their gazes landed on the frail old man on the bed, washed and dry and swaddled with blankets, sleeping while Tessa stacked clean towels on the night table.
"There is naught we can do but wait," Thomas said. He meant to be comforting.
Jonah shrugged. Weariness rolled over him like an ocean wave. "I'm not so good at waiting."
"That makes two of us. Come and sample the cooking."
"Who's cooking?"
"Oh, the dozen or so marriageable females who all miraculously brought by breads and puddings and even cakes to help you in this time of difficulty." Thomas' eyes flashed with small humor. "A smart maiden never misses an opportunity to display her cooking talents to a prospective bridegroom."
"Don't remind me of my duty," Jonah growled, more tired than irritated. He took one long last look at Father, so lifeless, struggling so hard to hold on. "I should not leave him."
"Maybe he's expiring from the sight of that ugly face of yours, brother." Thomas' hand cupped his shoulder. "Come, have some coffee and eat. No doubt we'll all need our energy, either way it goes."
"I'll stay with him whilst you break your fast." Tessa looked up from her work changing the poultice on Father's chest. So dark those eyes, steady and deep. "I will call you if there is any change."
Thomas nodded, careful to keep his distance from her. "We're much obliged for all you've done, Mistress Tessa."
"You need not thank me." She turned, jaw set.
"You have run out of excuses, brother." Thomas' hand on the back of his shoulder guided him toward the door. "We will not be gone long, and 'twill give Father a respite from your dreadful presence."
"And yours, brother." Guilt and regret slowed Jonah's step as he followed his brother from the room. Aye, how his conscience troubled him. "I swore to marry before he died."
"What should you do?" Thomas answered ahead on the stairs. "Pick any girl and marry her the very day you return to town?"
"There lies my problem. I can't simply pick a girl. They look like children to me." His voice echoed in the empty and cold parlor as he followed his brother to the kitchen beyond. "I cannot marry a woman half my age."
"That's one of the difficulties of being thirty." Thomas grabbed a taper and lit it from the single candle burning in the table's center. "By that age, all the women are married or so ugly no one will have them."
"You're speaking of Tessa Bradford," he guessed. "Hell, what happened to this kitchen?"
"Women," Thomas muttered, shaking his head.
Women? The devil's teeth! It looked like a pack of bakers had descended on the house. "Father is dying. He doesn't need a final buffet."
"Final buffet. Last supper." Thomas shrugged. "Look, Andy has already helped himself. He's devoured half the cinnamon cake."
"I'm in deep trouble, brother, and you worry over missing pastry?" Jonah grabbed a cup and crossed the room. "I am to wed. I have little faith in marriage."
"Pray, don't say that too loudly. You are like to offend all the young ladies who made these treats and they will have you thrown in the stocks for a day." Thomas, even weary and grief-stricken, managed another joke.
"I cannot marry a mere girl." He gestured to the plate-laden table. Crocks, platters, rows of cakes and delicious treats crammed nearly every available inch. "They do not even know me. These efforts of theirs are far from sincere."
"You want sincerity? Then do not look for it in any woman." Thomas considered that. "Well, maybe a few women. But a damned few."
"Aye." Jonah knew they were both remembering their stepmother. "That woman made Father's life hell and took pleasure in it. I refuse to marry anyone even half as selfish."
"Or eager for your money." Thomas' telling gaze met his.
So, they shared the same worries. Jonah understood. "I have given my word. I must marry. There must be a son who will inherit this land."
"So, who will you choose?"
Jonah filled two cups with coffee, thinking. "If Father survives this illness, he will be infirm. Then I'll need a female willing to care for him as well as to manage the household. I shall not have a lazy wife sitting about, shouting at the servants."
"Our servants work the land and would not agree to clean house," Thomas added.
"True." Jonah set one cup before his brother and pulled a chair up to the board. "She must be kind. I don't want a cruel woman raising my son."
Again, he thought of his stepmother. Aye, the viciousness of that one. All of them bore scars in one way or another. Fear beat within his chest like a caged bird. What kind of woman could he tolerate for a wife?
"Most important, she must be a female I can see myself bedding, not a child half my age. If only we knew if Father was to recover for certain, I could take my time. Maybe travel to Boston and find someone appropriate."
"I don't envy you." Thomas sipped the steaming brew. "For once I'm glad I am not the eldest brother. Father is weak and we do not have much time."
"Aye. I do not need reminding." Jonah rubbed his face with both hands as if he could rub away the weariness, too. "I have been thinking a lot about the word. Duty. What it means. And what I must do."
"I have been pondering it as well." Thomas stepped away to choose a cheese tart from the offering on the table. His steps knelled heavily on the wood floor. "We all have left home following our own paths. Now, Father's illness has brought us back. To change. To carry on what he's worked hard for all his life."
"The land," Jonah sighed. "Family."
Aye, duty was a tough word. It required self-sacrifice, doing the right thing rather than making his own choices. And damn it, Jonah was a man used to forging his own path, facing challenges, and commanding men.
But that was a different duty, one that required only muscle and brain. It did not require heart.
"How will you choose your bride?" Thomas asked now.
"I have no idea, but I know this." Jonah remembered Father's face, pale and shrunken now that the frightening fever had broken. He was improving, but for how long? "I must make a decision."
"Today would not be fast enough." Thomas' hand landed on Jonah's shoulder.
His brother's understanding felt good, made him more brave. "How do I know the woman I select will make an unselfish wife and a kind mother, especially if I can't spend any time getting to know her?"
"There must be a way," Thomas murmured, sounding as perplexed as Jonah felt.
Duty. There was no denying, no stalling, and no excuses he could make. Now was the time to make good on his promise, to stand up and be the son his father wanted and needed. "Father is going to require constant care for some time, and the doctor fears he may never fully recover."
"Aye."
Jonah paused, considering. Inspiration struck. Why hadn't he thought of it before? "Then I'll need a wife willing to tend to Father. It would only be logical."
"Logical?"
A trickle of hope flickered inside Jonah's chest. Could it work? Why not? If he could find a woman who wouldn't mind caring for a sick old man, then perhaps…
The hope inside him grew, warming him from the inside out. That would be the test, the way he would know which of those young, terribly inexperienced females had a genuinely caring heart. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be the kind of female who would dominate his life or tear him apart with her guile.
"What are you saying, brother?"
"I think I've found a solution." Ah, it felt good to have at least one burden lifted. "This is a neighborly village. People care for one another, pitch in and help out when there is an illness such as Father's."
"What is your point?"
"I will watch the young women who come visit today." Jonah stood, his knees a little shaky, but his heart firmly resolved. "And I will marry the one who genuinely offers to do the most for Father."
"What? Have you gone mad?"
"Probably" Jonah could not deny it.
"What if it's the widow with the warts?" Thomas cried out, horrified.
Duty.
Jonah set his jaw. It mattered little what he wanted, only what he had to become.
The golden light of morning warmed the room with its cheerful presence, and Tessa knew she must leave. She had her furious grandfather to appease, who was only tolerating her long night of service to Colonel Hunter because Grandfather hoped to impress Jonah Hunter.
Violet was now of marriageable age, and apparently Grandfather had high hopes for her.
Half stumbling, Tessa carried the sheets to the kitchen and piled them by the back door. Surely one of the Hunters' servants would know to wash the sheets. As it was, she was far too weary to do more than find her way home.
Of course, more work awaited her there.
"Are you leaving?"
Jonah's rich voice warmed her like rum. Such reactions she had to this man. Tessa lifted her chin. "Chores are awaiting me at home."
"I understand. I don't know how to thank you for all you've done for my father." Jonah smiled, tired and troubled, but that smile stretched all the way to his eyes.
Such deep eyes, a woman could get lost inside them. Lose all common sense. She knew the taste of his passionate kisses, knew the heady luxury of being enfolded in his strong arms. 'Twas a feeling she had only dreamed of before now.
Then she shook her head, dispersing the spell he cast on her. The way he was looking at her, and remembering the liberties she'd allowed him, made her blush. "I help anyone who's ill. Coming here was nothing out of the ordinary."
"Oh." The light died in his spectacular eyes.
Tessa's heart darkened at the sight. She didn't want Jonah to think she was doing him any special favors. Still, she hadn't meant to hurt him. He'd been absent from this village a long time, didn't realize she helped wherever she could. Knowing Jonah, he probably thought she'd come especially because of him, the self-important oaf.
Now at least he no longer thought so, even if he didn't gaze at her with eyes of liquid heat.
"When your father awakens, give him a cup of the tea I left right there." She gestured. "By the hearth."
He was a man of silence, of unreadable emotion sheltered in the shadows. Solid and strong as steel. The sight of him made her heart catch.
He cleared his throat, his voice as somber as a funeral. "Thank you, Tessa. You are a better woman than most"
Dark eyes snared hers, cool but somehow intimate.
"You're very pretty when you smile. You should do it more often."
"False flattery doesn't fool me."
"Then I shall have to try all the harder."
Captivating. He could lure the angels from heaven with that slow stretch of a grin. It was lopsided and carved a dimple into his left cheek.
"I thought charm comes naturally to a man like you."
"Aye, 'tis a gift" His smile deepened, lighting his eyes.
Touching her heart.
Tessa's head reeled. Air wedged in her lungs. "You best watch out for lightning after telling a lie like that"
"So, now I'm a liar." Two dimples shaped his smile, so wickedly handsome her brain forgot to function.
"A charming liar. A lethal combination." Tessa swallowed. What was she doing, bantering with this man? What would her grandfather say if he knew? Pain twisted in her heart No one will ever want to marry a sharp-tongued spinster like you. You are ugly, skinny and disagreeable. You ought to be grateful Horace Walling agreed to take you, but I had to throw in a cow with the deal.
Those words rang like a death knell in her head, so sharp and clear from the morning when she'd returned from the Hunters' house, her grandfather holding the ruined cloak up as evidence.
There would be no loving marriage, no happy home for her. And what of the child she wanted so badly? How could she let Horace… Lord, she could not even stomach the thought. There was no way she would beget a child without love. Duty wasn't good enough. Not for her heart. And not for the daughter of her dreams.
"I'll try to return some time after noon, if I can get away from my work." Tessa lifted her shawl from the wall peg.
"Not if, when." Jonah stepped into the thin light Fire flickered in his eyes. "If Father takes a bad turn, then I will come to fetch you. Whether your grandfather can spare you or not."
His command whirled her around, temper stirring. "And consequences be damned, right?" Tessa raged. "Why would you care? 'Tis not your life and not your hide if Ely becomes angry."
"I care only about my father." A muscle jumped in his tightly clenched jaw, square and hard. There were no dimples, only furious power and muscle-hard man. If softness lived within him, she could not see it now.
What had she expected? Jonah was nothing more than the very type of man she feared. Pushy. Domineering. Never saw himself as wrong. "This is not the militia, Hunter. You are not a commander, and I will not be ordered by you."
"What? Now you're refusing to come help my father?" Jonah roared, fury snapping through him like lightning.
"I will come." She wanted to give him a good thwack with her basket. Knock some civility into him. "But don't think that I am helping your father because you asked me."
"Not even in my wildest dreams."
Anger emanated from him like heat from a hearth. Tensed his strong jaw. Drew taut his magnificent shoulders.
His words struck her like a blow. No man would dream of her. Oh, she knew why he'd sought her out for a kiss. He was afraid and wanted comfort, that was all.
She didn't want to be reminded of it. She clenched her teeth, willing her hurt to stay buried deep in her heart, and headed straight for the door, her basket clutched in both hands.
She would not look back. She would not let him see how accurate his aim had been. A blow straight to the heart, like only a man could do. Even Jonah Hunter, so revered and heroic everyone in the village respected him. Then how would Horace Walling treat her? How could she begin to expect anything but servitude from her inconveniently arranged marriage?
Damn Jonah Hunter. That was his fault, too. If he hadn't blackmailed her, Grandfather never would have decided to rid her from his house for good.
Tessa faced the grayness of morning and started the long journey home.
"If you make her angry, she might not come back," Thomas pointed out reasonably. "And you know well, brother. We need her help."
"No longer than it takes for me to find a wife, then Tessa Bradford will never darken my doorstep again." Jonah chugged down a long pull of cooled coffee. He felt bad for her and he appreciated her knowledge and help, but that didn't mean he liked her.
"Never say never, brother. That always leads to trouble." Thomas emptied his cup. "Father is holding his own."
"He drank two cups of that tea." Jonah's heart warmed simply remembering. Father had been weak, but managed a smile. And commented how Tessa's tea tasted as bad as bird droppings.
"And 'tis still morning. Nearly eleven o'clock."
Thomas managed a lopsided grin. " Tis a wonder only a dozen women have paid a call, clamoring for a piece of you."
"Please, don't remind me. 'Twas terrifying." He immediately thought of his stepmother and the way she'd treated their father, all of them, draining the joy from every day and happiness from every aspect of life. Would this be his married fate?
"Will they bring more food, I wonder?" Andy bolted in the back door from the barn. "Since we lost cook we've had to get along on Thomas' cooking skills."
"When more women arrive, they will certainly bring more food." Jonah faced the window. Light filtered through low clouds. He would choose his wife today.
If she were kind, then she would be good enough.
A knock rattled through the silent house.
"Mayhap that is your future wife," Thomas teased with a wink. "Well, there's only one way to know for certain. Get on your feet and answer the door, man."
"I hope it isn't the widow with the warts," Andy mused. "I've tasted her biscuits at the husking bee last autumn. Terribly dry. 'Tis better to pick a wife who's a good cook, too."
Jonah gritted his teeth and stood to face his destiny.
"Tell me what the house is like," Violet demanded, her ardor not diminished by the splash of sudsy wash water.
"Just a house, 'tis all. Bigger than this one." Tessa rinsed the bowl and set it on the toweled table to dry.
"You're lying because you just don't want me to know. I bet the Hunters' parlor is a fine one. I've seen the huge windows and the clapboards so neat and cared for. Inside the parlor must be huge, with velvet everywhere."
"I was too busy to notice whether the chair was velvet or not" Tessa plunged her hands into the sink. The last man she wanted to talk about was Jonah Hunter.
"I bet there are glass lamps everywhere, with the candles inside. And crystal teardrops catching the light." Violet swelled up with great hope.
"I saw only candleholders, plain as glass. I was tending an ill man, not drooling over his material possessions." Tessa scrubbed hard at the iron kettle. Berry sauce darkened the wash water.
"I don't care about the old colonel. 'Tis Major Hunter I have an eye on."
"Just like every girl in the entire village." Tessa rinsed and set the kettle to dry. Exhaustion fogged her brain, yet she lifted a clean towel from the pile and began drying the dishes, the third set today.
"Do you think the pink ribbon's best?" Violet held up both a blue and a pink ribbon against her dress.
"I doubt Jonah Hunter is a man to notice a foolish girl's ribbons." She wasn't jealous, she was damn mad. After a long night of work with hardly any sleep, she'd done nothing but do her chores here. The barn, the meals, the dishes, care of the milk, the daily sweeping, and then making a batch of berry tarts for the silly chit to take to the Hunters' house.
To pay a call, as Charity said. But Tessa knew the truth. They wanted to show off Violet to Hunter and make him notice her youthful beauty and thoughtfulness in the gift of tarts.
What the colonel's illness had to do with pastry, Tessa did not understand. The old man needed clean sheets and a hearty soup broth he could sip and special tea to boost his recovery.
The berry tarts were for Jonah.
A knock rattled on the door, startling her. A knife slipped from her hands to the floor.
"Clumsy," Violet scolded.
Tessa tossed the dishtowel on the table. "Oh, go bat your eyes at Jonah Hunter. You ought to be perfect for him. You both are so in love with yourselves, neither of you could love anyone else."
"Why you low-down, dried-up-"
A baby's cry shrilled through the room.
Violet paled.
Tessa turned, dread filling her heart. Horace Walling stood in the doorway, holding an outstretched basket in one arm and an infant in the other.
His rotten teeth flashed when he talked. "Your grandfather said you would see to some of the daily work. I brought by the family's clothes for you to wash. Guess you might as well get accustomed to it. By this time next week, it'll be your lot in life."
Tessa took one look at Charity's and Violet's triumphant smiles and bit her lip.
There is no way on this green earth, she wanted to say but held her tongue. Temper stirred in her chest, and she fought it.
Be his wife? Not on her life.
"A lovely caller to see you, Jonah," Andy yodeled from the base of the stairs.
Jonah turned from the fire in his father's room, the stick of wood in hand. "Another caller?" he muttered wearily to his other brother.
Thomas stood from the low bedside stool, studied the slumbering face of the man lying there, and stretched. "At least we will not be in danger of starving.
"Aye. I have never seen so many breads, stews, soups and puddings gathered together in my life." Weariness rolled over him like an ocean wave. "So many visitors and not one offer to help with Father. All the young ladies have offered calculated smiles, their plates of food, and sometimes a shy offer of something else."
It was that something else that soured his stomach.
Thomas fidgeted on the chair. "I see how you worry. 'Tis fearsome, after growing up watching our stepmother use Father."
"Aye." It saddened him to think he could be in the same position.
"Father couldn't see that our stepmother did not want love and passion, but to live in his fine house and drain dry the coffers buying enough silk dresses to clothe every living subject in all of the colonies."
"I'll not make the same mistake." Jonah rubbed his brow. "And it makes me afraid to see what manner of female will greet me next at the door."
"Be brave, brother. Andy and I will protect you from any forward virgins." Humor sparkled in Thomas' dark eyes.
"Fie, you are a scoundrel to tease me." Jonah strode from the room, listening to his brother's laughter.
He was a fool for making such a vow, this promise of marriage. It seemed his faith in females fell even lower today. 'Twas nearly suppertime and not one of his fourteen visitors had offered to help him tend Father.
What would he do then?
Voices rumbled, growing clearer as he approached. He strode into the lit parlor, and his gaze froze on the two female forms huddling before the fire. One was dressed in pink and blue, dressed and groomed and smiling so hugely. Far too young for his taste.
The other female was skinny. Black curls tumbled over the back of her tattered shawl. Simple blue homespun skirts rustled as she turned from the hearth to face him.
Tessa Bradford had come to call on him?
"Jonah. Did you brew the tea I left for your father?" Her voice held a low bite.
But he remembered the softness in her eyes, the vulnerability. And the gentleness he'd witnessed behind the terrifying spinster mask.
"Father hated the tea and told me next time you were to leave something more palatable or he would come after you himself."
"Tell the stubborn old man he's no match for me." A sweetness warmed her eyes, even if the tight line of her mouth did not ease. "I'll head upstairs and check on him."
So, she hadn't come to call, but to keep her promise. Why his gaze followed her through the parlor, he couldn't begin to speculate. She was a completely disagreeable female, but his blood thickened simply watching her. He remembered her hot kisses and an unspoken promise of seductive passion, and his breeches grew tighter.
He wondered about her lover, the man she'd been meeting on the night he fired on the wolves. Was she passionate and wild with him? Jonah could see it, could sense beneath the unbending primness that Tessa Bradford could drive a man beyond all control.
"Major Hunter?" a low voice rose and fell over his name like a caress.
He snapped his head around. Plump and pretty Violet Bradford looked up at him through her lashes.
"I baked berry tarts just for you." She held out the wooden platter, probably the best the family owned, and dipped her chin.
He did not miss the shine in her eyes when her gaze swept the room.
"You baked these tarts?" He took the cloth-covered plate. Disappointment, nay, it was worse than disappointment, flooded his chest. "From what I hear Tessa does all the domestic tasks."
"She lies. I'm quite capable-"
"She had to leave my father's side this morning to prepare breakfast for your family," he ground out, illogically furious. "That is a daughter's duty. Aren't you the eldest daughter?"
"Aye, but-"
"So tell me," he demanded, "even if you did bake these tarts yourself, which I doubt, then why were you making foolish sweets to impress me when you should have been preparing the meals so Tessa could tend my seriously ill father?"
Violet's seductive mouth crumpled and tears filled her eyes. She flew from the room.
"You were harsh with her," Andy observed from the kitchen doorway.
"Aye, I regret it." Confusion tore at him. He stared down at the plate. "I don't know what came over me."
"I distinctly heard berry tarts mentioned." Andy bounded into the room. "Here, let me take that terrible burden from you. A man contemplating marriage has no use for berry tarts."
"And I suppose a man not contemplating marriage does?"
"Aye, a serious need." Andy peeked beneath the cloth. "Hmm. These smell heavenly."
"Thank you." Tessa breezed into the room, dark curls falling into her eyes as she managed a small smile. "I hope you like them, even if you probably have an entire kitchen of baked goods by now."
His heart knocked hard against his ribs. Jonah took a step back. "You take my brother's compliment, but not mine."
A small smile twinkled in eyes as dark as night. "That's because your brother is not an overbearing oaf."
Andy chuckled. "True. Thank you for the tarts, Mistress Tessa. These are the best we've received today. I'm off to devour them."
Jonah waited until his brother had left the room. His throat dried. He lifted his gaze and saw her face, half hidden by a few thick untamed curls falling from her muslin cap. "Whilst Father is improved from last night, he is still so weak and frail. Do you think he will live?"
"I wish I could say for sure." Tessa hugged the ends of her shawl tight around her, drawing the knit wool to cloak her well-shaped breasts.
Fire sparked through his veins, making it damn hard to think. "His fever has broken."
"A good sign, but his lungs are greatly affected. Your father is still gravely ill." She dipped her chin, and he could not read her face. As if she were suddenly shy, she took a step toward the door, then hesitated. "I know you can afford to bring in help and you may not want my services, especially after the way I lost my temper this morning."
"I hardly noticed."
She took another step toward the door. "I have a terrible flaw in my temper, I know, but until your father is stronger and if you want me to help out, I wouldn't mind."
Silence filled the house, as if her softly spoken, amazingly quiet words had been blasted from a mountaintop.
Jonah's heartbeat stuttered. "Wh-what did you say?"
"I know the indentured servant Sarah left last month after fulfilling her contract with your father, and you've no female help to care for him." Tessa looked longingly at the door, as if she'd rather be anywhere but standing before him. "I'm usually asked to help in times like these, but I already understand why you might not want me here. I just can't abide the thought of a dear old man so ill without wanting to help."
"I have to sit down." Jonah's knees buckled, and he eased onto a nearby footstool. "You like my father?"
"He was kind enough to help me when I needed it once, when not even family would." Tessa's eyes filled with tears, amazing tears that shimmered like silver in her eyes, then spilled down her creamy cheeks.
Honest, genuine tears that reminded Jonah of the woman who'd turned down the fine wool cloak when she needed one.
"Long ago, my mother required a doctor, but there was no money for one. The colonel sent one and paid the fees. I hadn't even spoken of it to anyone but the minister. Yet your father brought out a fine doctor all the way from Boston, and it truly made a difference in easing my mother's suffering."
Jonah remembered Tessa's ill mother, a thin woman so pale and weakened by a palsy and other afflictions that she couldn't walk.
Tessa swiped at her cheeks, drying her tears. "It would mean much to me to care for your father now, to repay him in this small way. I need to do this. If you will let me."
Andy cleared his throat from the kitchen threshold. "She bakes a perfect berry tart, Jonah. Aye, a fine cook indeed."
His heart stopped beating for an entire minute. Jonah saw Thomas' shadow in the stairwell and knew he'd heard Tessa's plea.
His entire body quaked, but he managed to stand. Reached out and took Tessa's small, work-reddened hand. "I would be honored if you would help us."
A small smile warmed her face and lit up her eyes like a morning sun. He saw the goodness within, a genuine happiness that he'd accepted her offer.
"I think I'll go upstairs right away and see what the colonel needs. Thank you, Jonah. You have allowed me to repay a long-standing debt, and it means more to me than you know."
She spun away, darting up the stairs with a grace that bewitched him. Fire licked through his groin, filled his chest with longing. And dread.
Andy's laughter filled the silent room. "I bet you ten pounds she'll refuse to marry you. She hates you, Jonah."
He rubbed his brow, confused, enamored, horrified. "Aye. I don't think I have ever been this terrified in my life."