The Virgin’s Tale - Chapter One

Colter Canyon, Texas – 1880

 

Elizabeth sat at the dining table, her stomach in knots, waiting for a man she barely knew. Her husband had sent a note that afternoon demanding that she dine with him. The note was only a few words, but even in that short note, he’d managed to curse twice. When she proposed to Nick Helm, two months ago, she made two requests. One, be discrete with his extra-marital affairs. And two, use civil language and a tempered voice when speaking to her. No cursing and no shouting.

To her surprise, Nick hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since they’d married. She was grateful for that. But his foul mouth was the same today as it was two months ago. When angry he peppered his speech with damn and hell and other jagged words. He was far less volatile than her late father, but still he frightened her.

Tired of sitting she rose from the cushioned chair and went to the fireplace, the skirts of her gown rustling as she paced back and forth. She dreaded the evening that lay ahead. She might lose her composure, might become flustered, and then the stutter would take over and she’d sound like a fool. God how she hated that.

She was sure Nick would tell her he was leaving, she just wasn’t sure what reason he would use. Maybe he loved another woman, or maybe he no longer needed her money. She didn’t want to hear it, whatever it was, but she still had a few weeks before her twenty first birthday and if he was leaving she needed to know now, tonight.

She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn’t help it. On the one hand she believed Nick married her for her wealth. And now that he had his own money there’d be no reason for him to stay. On the other hand, Nick hadn’t spent a dime of her money since they wed, unless it was to improve the auction house or to repair the ranch.

On the day they took their vows, Nick had surveyed her ranch, shaking his head and muttering, but mostly cursing, about the broken down fences and the sagging roof lines and the dozen other projects that needed doing. The next day he got busy, working outside from dawn to dusk on all manner of repairs. When he wasn’t at the auction house he was working on the ranch, but always outside. She hardly saw him during their first month of marriage, which suited her just fine.

On their one-month anniversary he bought her a special gift, a pearl necklace. He bought it with his own money. He proudly gave it to her in the parlor and they sat and visited for thirty minutes, talking about the repairs to the ranch and the improvements that had been made to the auction house. It was a pleasant visit, and she felt reassured that she’d be able to keep her ranch.

A few days later word came that his uncle had passed away. Nick was gone for a few days attending to family matters. When he returned he announced his uncle had left him a tidy sum of money. The news was the seed that had turned into today’s worry. If he had his own money, why would he stay with her?

And why couldn’t her inheritance be provision-free like his? But no, her parents had one ridiculous provision in their will: Marry before age twenty one or the entire inheritance, all land and holdings, transfer to her male cousins. She could not let that happen. Her uncle and cousins were cut from the same fabric as her father, mean-spirited and cruel, obnoxious men. Without her own means she’d either be without a home, or living with these same terrible people. There was no way in God’s creation she could do that.

So she decided to take a husband, which was no small decision, given that she hardly ever left the house, and she’d never been courted. The only option she could fathom was Nick Helm, the man who’d managed her family’s auction house for the past eight years.

She fingered the pearls he’d given her. The strand dipped down and stopped just above her breasts. This evening when she dressed, she chose a gown that would display his gift. Daring and bold, the dress was nothing like the sensible dresses she usually wore. She arranged her hair just so. Perhaps she could appeal to him in some way and persuade him to stay. If he left, all might be lost.

The door opened and Nick stepped in. He was dressed nicely this evening, clean dress pants and a white linen shirt, hair combed nicely, far different from the tousled hair, dusty trousers and cotton shirts she’d seen him in for most of the past two months. He smiled at her while he tugged on his cuffs, and then his eyes turned to the table. His eyebrows furrowed and he slammed the door behind him.

“Damn! Am I supposed to shout at you all evening?” His voice boomed and his dark eyes flashed.

When she’d arrived for dinner she found the two place settings were next to each other, one at the head of the long table and the other immediately to his right. She’d taken her place setting and moved it to the far end of the table, as far away from him as she could, some thirty feet away.

“I’m sorry, N-nick.”

She moved quickly to pick up her place setting and move it back where it had been. She crossed the length of the dining hall, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous room.

As she approached his expression softened, a smile curved his lips. He took the plate and cutlery from her hand and set it down somewhat carelessly on the table.

“Why look at you,” he said.

She tried to slip past him but he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His gaze drifted from her eyes down to her lips, lingering there for a moment before lowering to the pearl necklace. He looped a finger under the strand and ran it up and down.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you wear them,” he said. “I was starting to think you didn’t like them.”

“I like them because they’re from my husband.”

The door opened and a servant entered with a soup tureen. She nodded at Elizabeth, then began arranging Elizabeth’s place setting.

“My God. That’s exactly what you wrote in your thank you note.” His tone was gruff. “Don’t ever send me another damn thank-you note. If you do I’ll find you and put you over my knee.”

The servant dropped a spoon and it clanged on the oak table. She quickly gained control of it again and resumed her task, but looked up quickly with big eyes.

Nick turned to her. “From now on, Mrs. Helm will eat beside me, right here,” he said, pointing. “Tonight and every night.”

“Yes sir,” she said, then quickly ladled the soup and left the room.

Elizabeth was stunned. The thought of being spanked, at her age, was more than she could fathom. Nick put his hand on her lower back and eased her to her chair, guiding her gently and then setting her linen napkin on her lap. His fingers brushed her arm and she flinched. Only once had she been so close to him, the day they’d exchanged vows in the parlor. He held her hands and held her gaze and when he brushed a chaste kiss over her lips, she thought her heart might seize in her chest.

He sat down, keeping his attention on her. His smile brought out his dimples.

“That’s a pretty dress, Elizabeth.”

“Thank you.”

He set his napkin in his lap and looked down at his soup. A frown came over his features. “What the hell’s this?”

They hadn’t even started dinner and she’d displeased him again. “You don’t like consommé?”

His brow arched. “Consummate? As in marriage?”

He stared at her with a solemn look on his face, but she wondered if she saw a twinkle of humor in eyes. Was he teasing her about their arrangement? Heat crept up her neck and burned her cheeks.

“I didn’t say consummate. I said consommé. It’s broth.”

He took a spoonful. “Good we cleared that up. I thought we were talking about something else.”

Lowering her eyes she tried to push aside any thought of that subject. Two months ago when she proposed to Nick, they were strangers. They’d corresponded because he ran her family’s livestock auction house. He wrote business reports and she wrote him back, thanking him for his hard work.

She didn’t really know Nick Helm aside from what she overheard from her servants. Apparently many people in Colter Canyon talked about him. Men spoke of his shrewd business dealings and how in one year he’d doubled the auction house income. Women gossiped about his good looks and charm. While Elizabeth appreciated these qualities, what she most appreciated was that he was single and available, and that he wasn’t a complete stranger.

Going to the auction house to speak to him was the most terrifying day of her life. She’d only been to the auction house twice before, when she was a girl, well before Nick was in charge. She had no idea what he looked like or where she might find him, but she found a young woman at a desk who seemed pleasant enough, and luckily the woman was able to direct her to his office. He was there, sitting behind his paper-strewn desk.

She explained her predicament and that she needed a marriage in name only. Twice, maybe three times she’d stammered, and that alone had been a miracle. But then he astonished her further by agreeing almost before she finished. He bolted up from his chair, crossed the room, took her hand and declared he’d like nothing better than to marry her. She almost fainted, both from relief and terror. The women’s gossip about his handsome looks was entirely true.

Well over six feet tall, he had sky blue eyes and black hair that greyed at the temples. He was ten years her senior and when he smiled down at her the skin around his eyes creased. The way he looked at her stole her breath.

She fled his office like a frightened rabbit, hurrying through the dust and commotion of the auction to find refuge in her carriage. All the way home she marveled at what she’d just done. Later that evening she penned a note telling him the date and time of the vows, adding her two conditions of discretion and polite language. She reflected on the absurdity of her requests while she stirred her soup with her spoon… one request seemed unnecessary, and the other seemed unattainable.

The cook’s assistant entered the dining room, drawing her from her thoughts. The next course was a filet with vegetables and fluffy mashed potatoes. Nick’s plate was piled with twice the amount on her plate. The servant gathered the soup bowls and spoons and left the room.

“Dinner’s delicious,” he said.

“Thank you. I try to plan meals you like.”

The meat was tender and the vegetables cooked to perfection. She knew the meal was probably delicious. To her, though, everything tasted of sand. She hoped the evening would end soon and she might escape before dessert. She didn’t want to hear his bad news, whatever it was. Maybe he wanted to leave. Or there was another woman. Maybe he was in love.

Her hands were slick and the fork slipped from her grasp, clattering to the plate. She picked it up and moved the vegetables to the other side of the meat. She gave the potatoes a few tentative nudges.

“I have work for you.”

She set her fork down. “Work?”

“I need to write something and you’re going to take notes for me.”

Staring at him, she tried to fathom why on earth he wanted her help. He’d never asked her for anything before.

“I’d be happy to assist you,” she replied dutifully.

He scoffed at her reply as if doubting her words. Did she sound insincere?

Her nerves were so jangled she couldn’t think. She returned to nudging her food with her fork, waiting for him to finish eating. Finally he pushed his plate aside.

“All right, you can quit pretending to eat now.” He got up, set his hand on her shoulder and leaned down to whisper. “I have plans for you this evening.”