Something Borrowed (Borrowed Brides 3)

"I was referring to Rubens' style of painting, not his choice of models."

Lee smiled at her. "You're being a little prudish, don't you think? Even for a schoolteacher? After all"—he teased—"we're talking about art."

"That painting isn't art," Mary informed him. "It's a cheap, tawdry advertisement, just like all the other nude pictures you find hanging in saloons. It's designed to entice men into the bar so they can spend their hard-earned money on liquor."

"I kinda like it."

"Don't tell me you plan to leave this room as it is." Mary wasn't trying to pick a fight with Lee, but the house, the town, the situation with Judah and Maddy, and marriage to Lee was so daunting. So overwhelming. She felt like a failure before she had even begun. She didn't know the first thing about really young children. She didn't understand "Maddy-talk," as Lee called it, or know how to be a good mother. And although she understood the basic nature of Judah's illness, Mary didn't know enough about the elderly gentleman to avoid inadvertently touching on unpleasant memories that triggered Judah's retreat into childhood.

But worst of all, she didn't know what to expect from her new husband. He had kissed her before the wedding with tenderness and passion and hunger, then rejected her after the ceremony. He wanted a marriage on paper and a mother for Maddy, not a wife and lover for himself. But Mary didn't know if she could settle for the kind of marriage Lee wanted—not when she wanted more. The very thought of another rejection at his hands frightened her more than she liked to admit. He had carried her over the threshold, but the least he could do was take her in his arms once again, kiss her senseless, and promise her that everything was going to work out.

"Okay," he agreed. "I'll tell you I plan to take the luggage upstairs and fall into the first bed I see."

"You don't know what we'll find upstairs," Mary reminded him. "Or if the beds have clean linen."

"I don't care."

"You must care. The beds could be filled with fleas, or bedbugs, or worse…"

Lee stared at his wife, and recognized the look of apprehension in her beautiful brown eyes. Unfortunately, he had reached the end of his physical reserves. He wanted to allay her fears, but he was too damn tired to be diplomatic. He couldn't think straight anymore—he needed sleep. Still, he made an effort to humor her. "What could be worse than fleas and bedbugs?"

"Well, you know."

"What?" He was too tired to play guessing games or dance coyly around the subject.

"You heard what Judah said about the Silver Bear Saloon." When Lee looked at her blankly, Mary decided she needed to prod his memory. "You know what he said about the women there." She lowered her voice to a whisper so Maddy wouldn't hear. "What if this house is a place like that? What if the beds upstairs are all occupied?"

Lee couldn't help but grin. "Fortunately, I easily adapt to almost any situation."

"Lee!" Mary's face turned a bright shade of pink.

"Just look how well I've adapted to being a family man. After spending nearly a week on a train and practically crossing the continent, I inherited a little girl and the company of an old man who can't remember his name or where he lives most of the time, and a beautiful bride—not to mention a house, a silver mine, and a load of unexpected responsibilities. I'm dead on my feet and nearly delirious from lack of sleep."

"I had to persuade my wife to enter her new home when all I want is a bed and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. And now that I've got her inside the house, I find myself standing in the entrance hall calmly discussing the possibility of whor—soiled doves—residing upstairs with my bride who's upset because the town I've brought her to is too small and the mansion I've given her isn't quite up to standards and has a billiard table, a roulette wheel, and a Rubenesque nude in the front parlor."

"I'm sorry you feel I'm being ill-tempered or petty, but this isn't a joke, Lee Kincaid. This is serious. We don't know what we've stumbled into," Mary reminded him in her prim schoolteacher voice.

"I know I've stumbled into a house with beds upstairs and that's all that matters to me right now."

"But, Lee…"

"Good God, woman, where did you get your tenacity?" Lee removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair, then mumbled, "It must be the result of your 'unfortunate heritage.'" He had hoped to provoke a smile from her or a heated comment at his mention of her pedigree, but Mary did

n't respond. She simply stood there and looked at him. He stared down at her. Her brown eyes appeared bigger and darker in her face than he remembered. Her lips were red, chapped from the cold, and marred by abrasions from her teeth. Mary was so capable, so intelligent, so strong and decisive, that he forgot she probably had as many anxieties about their partnership as he did, maybe more. She was, after all, a bride miles away from her family and friends, saddled with a host of new and unfamiliar responsibilities—himself among them. Lee reached out and touched her bottom lip, tracing the liny marks with the pad of his thumb. "Mary, I'm fairly certain there aren't any other women upstairs, but if there are, I promise not to take advantage of them. Or let them take advantage of me."

"I wasn't…"

"I know," he replied gently. "I was just trying to allay your fears." He grinned suddenly, and his thick blond mustache tilted at the corners. "I am, after all, a married man now. I have no interest in any woman who isn't my wife."

He traced the contours of her lip one more time, then reached down for his leather satchel. "Don't worry so much." He raised up and met her solemn gaze once again. "All I need is a few hours' sleep. When I wake up, we can sit down and try to work out a plan. Okay?"

Lee looked so exhausted that Mary had no choice but to relent. "Okay."

He turned toward the stairs at the end of the hall and slowly began to climb them.

"Lee!" Mary called out when he reached the top of the stairs.

"Yes?" Lee leaned over the rail so he could see her. He needed to assure himself that Mary would be all right in this mausoleum, with only Judah and Maddy for company, during the few hours it would take for him to get his long-delayed and much-needed sleep.