A Man for Glory

And now it looked as if Cade would be a fixture on the place, and she could keep track of him while she did her busywork. She wouldn’t guarantee anything about a wedding in the next few days, but she was leaning in that direction. And more than willing to let him have his way with the stock and the pasture. As for herself, she had enough to do. Her garden was coming in well, the peas ready to pick, the carrots showing above the ground and her beans blossoming, promising a good crop.

She’d planted three long rows already, for her father had told her years ago that planting beans every two weeks would give them beans for the whole of the summer. And so Glory had done as he’d instructed in those long-ago days of her youth. Every two weeks until mid-July, she planted beans and every two weeks once they were ready to pick, she had a crop to cook or can up in jars.

Her father had taught her well and she’d listened, planting and hoeing, weeding and picking the harvest of vegetables her mother put up in blue Mason jars. Now she canned her own food, thankful for the upbringing she’d had back in Pennsylvania.

She looked up, wrenched from her thoughts as Cade walked to the porch and sat on the steps. “I want to thank you, Cade. I appreciate your working with Buddy and spending time with him in the barn and with the animals.”

Cade rose from the steps and walked to stand before her, his hands touching her shoulders. He bent low, turning her face to him. His lips pressed softly against her cheek, then brushed the tender lines of her mouth, a kiss of comfort.

“You’ve had a tough time of it, Glory. If I can, I’ll make things a bit easier for you.” His grip on the fragile bones he held within his grasp was light, but the warmth of his palms was welcome and Glory fought back tears as she rose to stand before him.

“I don’t mean to be weepy, Cade. I’m usually pretty well in control of myself, but something about having you here, maybe just having a man about the place, seems to give me comfort.”

But it was more than comfort that she sought, for she had to admit to herself that Cade made her feel like a woman. A desirable woman. A woman who welcomed the touch of his hand on her cheek as he spoke. “If I can give you comfort of any sort, I’m pleased, Glory,” he said softly.

Her voice broke then, and she swallowed hard before she was able to speak. “I had three years here as Harvey’s wife, Cade. He slept down the hall, gave me my own room and lived up to his word. He’d said when I met him that he wasn’t looking to sleep with me, for he’d had a good marriage with the mother of his children and didn’t want another woman in his bed. He was good to me, treated his children well and gave me free rein with his house. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Cade swallowed, his wondering put to rest. For even though he’d thought from what she’d said early on that her marriage to Harvey Clark had not been one such as he sought with her, she had given him words now that told him without doubt that she’d not slept with the man.

Satisfaction and anticipation filled him as he looked down at her. His hands lifted to her again, palms cradling her face, his gaze captured by the fine wash of color that stained her cheeks. The length of his fingers felt the fragile line of her temples, his fingertips brushing the wispy curls that framed her forehead. She was lovely, her skin finely pored, her lips curving a bit in a smile that trembled. Whether because of the desire he made no attempt to conceal from her, or perhaps her own awakening, she closed her eyes.

“Look at me, Glory.” His voice was harsh, and he rued the passion that roughened his words, for he would not have her think him angry.

Her lids fluttered and she opened her eyes fully, brushing aside his hands as she attempted to step away from him. But he would not have it, and his hands once more gripped her shoulders, his touch careful but firm.

It was more than he could resist. Not just the soft lips that parted as if she would speak, or the yielding of her body as she allowed him to take her weight against himself. He bent to her again, and his mouth claimed hers, his indrawn breath holding the womanly scent of her, his heart beating faster as the feel of her breasts against his body brought him to arousal. His kiss was damp, his lips open against hers, and his hands were taut, sliding down her back, pressing her close.

Her hands pressed against his shirt, as if she would gain some bit of room between them. Whether she recognized the thrust of his arousal, or perhaps was frightened at his ardor, she inhaled sharply and turned her head to the side, catching her breath, even as a whimper escaped her lips.

“I’ve frightened you.” His words were heavy with regret, for he’d told her he would not harm her or give her cause for alarm. And unless he missed his guess, she was about as near shedding tears again as a woman could get without the waterworks being turned loose.

“I want to ask you something, Glory. I hope you won’t think I’m being crude or trying to embarrass you, but you strike me as a girl who hasn’t had much to do with men. Do you know what happens between a man and woman, how they join their bodies together after marriage?”

She trembled against him, yet he must speak, must know the full extent of her knowledge or perhaps ignorance.

“Has no woman explained to you what is involved in the process of giving yourself to the man you’ve chosen to marry?”

Her eyes filled with tears again as he spoke and she shook her head.

But at least she had answered him, and for that he was thankful, for he’d begun to fear that this was to be a one-sided conversation. “My mama told me one time when I asked her about babies and such that men are usually pretty adept at that sort of thing. She said that all a woman must do was to obey her husband.”

Damn. “And didn’t she tell you that a man’s pleasure is a direct result of the response of his wife?”

Her breath huffed out. “I’d supposed that the room would be dark and things would happen naturally. Mama said that if I married a man who truly loved me, I wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

He shook his head and held her before him at arm’s length. “I’d say you’ve got a good bit to learn, Glory. Your education will be more involved than I’d thought.” Cade smiled down at her and posed a question. “Have you never dallied with a young man in the moonlight?” He paused as she considered his words and then she flushed becomingly and shook her head.

“I wasn’t left alone with any of the young men who came around back home in Pennsylvania. My pa said I was too young for such shenanigans. When I had a gentleman friend come to call, which only happened a couple times, we sat in the parlor and looked at my mama’s photograph albums and sorted through picture books about Europe and Greece. It was for sure we weren’t allowed to be left alone.”

But it seemed Cade was not finished with his subject, and he continued speaking, his tone soft, his words coaxing. “We won’t be doing much of what we’re speaking about anyway, Glory. Not right away. Certainly not until we’re married and even then we’ll take our time.”

She felt a hot flush cover her cheeks. “Please, Cade. I don’t want to talk about this.” Her voice broke and he bent to her.

“Glory, I sure wish your mama had explained things to you a little better.”

“I was sixteen when she died. And I’m sure, given the chance, we’d have spoken of marriage. But as it turned out, I’m probably about the most ignorant female you’ve ever met.” Her chin tilted upward and her eyes narrowed as she spoke. “I’m not ashamed of not knowing. I’m just embarrassed.”

He kissed her cheek then, careful not to infringe, and she looked up at him, anger touching her words.

“I’m young and ignorant, Cade. Are you sure that you want to marry me?” She bent her head and the slender form he held between his hands seemed fragile, as if she was too delicate, perhaps unfit for the life she’d chosen here on the farm. “I fear I won’t be very good at this, Cade McAllister, for I’m not willing to do all the things marriage requires of a woman. Not right now, anyway. You ought to find a woman better equipped for marriage than I.”

He merely smiled, even as laughter tapped at the door of his dignity and begged for release. But he would not allow it. He was determined to coax her to the point of speaking vows before the minister in town. She might be unaware of what was involved in being his wife, but she was smart enough to recognize that she needed him. Needed a man to protect her and the children she’d taken responsibility for.

“Glory, look at me.” His touch was careful on her arms, and he’d captured the length of her body between himself and the wall of the house next to the back door. He’d not put a match to the kerosene lamp over the table and the room was lit only by the soft glow of the black iron range, but he didn’t need a bonfire to make out her face.

“Just promise me you’ll be thinking about visiting the preacher. We can make it as private as you want, just you and me and the young’uns. The sheriff made sure of my reputation back home and I’m willing to put my money into this place. I’ll be good to you and I think you know the children like me. I can’t see any reason to put it off.”

She looked up at him and her eyes sought his in the dim shadows. “I’ll think about it, Cade, but I’m not making any promises yet. And in the meantime, you can sleep in Mr. Clark’s bedroom, but I’ll have no more of this kissing business. I need a clear mind and I won’t have you confusing me with foolishness.”

He smiled at her, nodding his agreement as she set the terms of their arrangement. “It’ll be just like you want, Glory. I’ll give you a week to decide. That should be long enough to make up your mind.”

She turned from him and he released her readily. “It’s time for Buddy and Essie to be getting ready for bed. I promised to read to them for a bit first.” She opened the screen door and went to the kitchen table, reaching up to lift the chimney from the lamp that hung there. Cade scratched a match against the surface of the stove, then touched it to the wick and Glory lowered the chimney into place.

“Buddy? Essie? Are you ready for our reading?”

From the parlor both children answered her and made their way to the kitchen. Buddy carried a book with him and placed it on the table before the chair Glory occupied on a regular basis. Essie scooted her chair around so that she could sit as close to Glory as possible.

“Would you like to listen, Mr. Cade?” she asked politely, swinging her feet as she waited for Glory to take her place beside her.

“Sure thing. I heard a bit last night, when I was sitting on the porch. I’ve read this book myself. My mama had a copy of it at home and she read it to me before I was old enough to enjoy it for myself.”

“Charles Dickens wrote a bunch of books,” Buddy said, taking his place across the table from Glory. “I already read two of them, and Glory said I have to write a book report about the one I’m reading now.”

“She’s done a good job of teaching the pair of you, I’d say,” Cade told the boy. “I’ll warrant you’ll do well in school. I’m going to look for a horse for you to ride back and forth. Mr. Bradley has a dozen or so mares and geldings he’s willing to sell. Maybe you and I can go over there tomorrow. If you’re gonna ride the horse, I’d say you ought to have some say in which one we get for you.”

“Can I do that, Glory?” Buddy looked beseechingly at his stepmother and Cade thought he held his breath as he awaited her answer.

“Sounds like Cade’s got things lined up, Buddy. If he wants to get you a horse, he can call the shots, I’d say.”

She opened the book, sliding the bookmark from its place and setting it on the oilcloth as she tilted the volume to catch the glow of the lamp overhead. “If we’re going to read a whole chapter, we’d better begin,” she said, glancing at Cade as he sat down in the available chair.

His grin was aimed at Glory as he settled back to listen. And for the next half hour her audience was held captive by the story of an orphaned boy and the trials inherent in his life without a family of his own.

Glory reached the end of the chapter and slid the bookmark into place, closing the volume and brushing the cover as if she would deny any speck of dust a resting place there. “Time for bed,” she said quietly, and both children pushed their chairs back and headed for the stairway in the hall. Buddy picked up a lamp from the table in the hallway and walked ahead of his sister up the stairs.

“Will you be coming up, Glory?” Essie asked, looking back over her shoulder.

“In just a few minutes,” Glory answered. “Your clean nightgown is on the bed, Essie. Make sure you change your underwear, Buddy. I put the clothes basket in your room, so be sure you use it.”