Something Borrowed (Jordan-Alexander Family 3)

"I appreciate your concern," Lee replied, "but I'm doing what I think is best."

"What about what I think? Couldn't you have consulted me about this? Or don't my opinions matter to you?"

Lee sucked in a deep breath, then counted to ten, and slowly let it out. He didn't appreciate her sarcastic attitude or her "schoolteacher" tone of voice—not when he was trying his utmost to hang on to what was left of his patience. He sighed tiredly. "What do you want from me, Mary? A promise to consult you before making any decisions in the future?"

"That would be a nice start," Mary replied sweetly. Too sweetly.

"Fine!" Lee raised his voice, then quickly lowered it as Maddy squirmed restlessly in his lap. "I promise to consult you before I make any major decisions in the future. Anything else?" He shifted his weight on the uncomfortable seat and attempted to straighten his long legs in the limited space between benches.

Mary stared at her husband. He was way beyond exhausted. She noted that his gray eyes were streaked with red and underscored by dark circles. She saw the tired lines bracketing his mouth and the golden stubble marking his cheeks and chin, and was tempted to postpone her questions and doubts, but she couldn't. She had tied her future to this man—this virtual stranger, for better or for worse, and they might as well work out some ground rules before they reached Denver. "You promise to consult with me before we make any major decisions," she corrected him in her best schoolteacher tone, "and you promise to explain why we couldn't spend the night at the ranch and get a fresh start in the morning like any sensible family would."

Lee snorted. Damn. He had forgotten how tenacious Mary Alexander could be. She wanted—no, demanded—an explanation. Well, hell, the least he could do was give her one, whether she liked it or not. "If we had stayed at the ranch, where would we have slept?"

"In my house," Mary answered confidently. "I have my own little cabin close to the schoolhouse."

Lee was familiar with the layout of the Trail T ranch. He had been there once before at another wedding breakfast— that one honoring Tessa Roarke's marriage to David Alexander. And although Mary didn't look like any schoolteacher he had ever had, Lee knew her cabin was located next to the schoolhouse because she taught the children on the ranch how to read and write and cipher in three or four different languages.

"How many bedrooms do you have?" Lee asked.

"One," she answered.

"For the four of us?" he nodded toward Judah, then glanced down at Maddy.

Mary looked at him. She hadn't really thought about Judah and Maddy's sleeping arrangements—only hers and Lee's. "No," she admitted. "But Maddy and Judah would have been welcome to stay with Reese and Faith and the girls."

"What about us, Mary?" Lee's voice, deep and sensual, sent a ripple of awareness through her. "Where would we sleep?"

"In my room," she answered softly, hesitantly.

Lee chuckled unexpectedly, then shook his head. "I may be tired, Mary, but I'm not that tired." Didn't she realize he was trying to be considerate? Didn't she understand the danger of inviting him to spend the night in her bed? He had willpower, but he wasn't a bloody plaster saint. He would make a mockery of their agreement to keep the marriage chaste before the bedroom door closed, and then her chance for future happiness with the man of her choice would evaporate like morning dew in the sunshine.

"You could have slept on the sofa," Mary suggested.

"If I'm going to be uncomfortable, I prefer to spend the night on a hard bench in a noisy train with a group of strangers. Thank you." That wasn't entirely true, but Lee didn't think he should elaborate on how difficult it would be for him to sleep on the sofa in the living room of her tiny cabin knowing she was tucked into a nice warm bed one door away wearing one of those pretty white lace and cotton nightgowns he liked—or nothing at all.

"We could have borrowed Reese's Pullman car and traveled in comfort," Mary pointed out. "Reese wouldn't have minded. Pelham and I were going to borrow it for the trip to San Francisco anyway."

Lee shifted Maddy's slight weight on his lap, then turned a bit so he could look at Mary. "That's precisely why I refused Reese's offer. I've followed in Pelham's footsteps enough for one day."

Mary sat back against the hard bench, stung by Lee's sullen announcement. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I married his intended bride, ate the wedding breakfast prepared for him, and played host to his wedding guests. But I draw the line at sleeping in his bed or wearing his damned nightshirt or any of the rest of the clothes he left in Reese's railroad car."

"How did you know about the bed or his clothes?" Mary was surprised. No one at the ranch had even so much as breathed a mention of Pelham Everhardt Cosgrove HI in her hearing since the ceremony.

"I accidentally overheard Faith tell Reese he needed to send someone down to the depot to pack up the things you had laid out for your honeymoon—including your new white lace peignoir and his striped nightshirt—and have Cosgrove's bed dismantled and sent back to his house. "

"So we're sitting here on our wedding night keeping watch while Maddy and Judah sleep." Mary managed a small wistful smile.

"Yeah," Lee agreed. "It's not much of a wedding night for you."

"Or for you."

"No, I guess not." Lee winced as Maddy sighed in her sleep, flung her arm out, and hit him in the center of his chest. He shifted on the seat again. "But, then, I wasn't expecting one tonight. You were."

Mary blushed and reached for the little girl in an attempt to cover her embarrassment. "Here, let me hold her while you rest your arms."

"You don't mind?"