return.'
She turned her back and walked fast and hard away from him, now that her angry words had attracted her grandfather's attention. He would not let Jonah into the house, she was sure of it. She hid in the parlor, took a deep breath, and tried to will the terrible roiling pain out of her heart.
She'd never been special to him. Not she, Tessa Bradford. She would never be the woman he dreamed of at night or in the quiet moments of the day.
He still wanted a convenient, practical marriage. But she did not. She never did. She never would.
She peeked around the corner and he was still there, standing in the rain at the open door. Wind lashed his black hair across his strong chiseled face. Rain soaked his shirt and the white fabric clung to him like a second skin, showing the breadth of his powerful shoulders and every fascinating muscle in his chest and abdomen.
Their gazes locked and he just stared at her. He looked so lost. Her throat tightened, and she knelt to feed the fire in the parlor's hearth, where Violet, her sister, and Charity all lay, consumed with fever.
She turned her back on Jonah and vowed not to cry another tear.
From this day on, she would not want, would not wish. She would not dream foolish dreams again.
Chapter Fifteen
'You cannot go marching up to her grandfather's house and steal her back.' Thomas' fist collided with the table, sending cups and spoons clattering. 'She is a woman with feelings, not a stolen piece of furniture.'
'I do not intend to steal her. I have thought this over for two days. For two days she does not speak to me. Her grandfather comes at me with a musket. I only intend to take back my wife.'
'Mayhap you shouldn't have hurt her so deeply in the first place.'
'Aye, I admit it. I was wrong. I was wrong to think-' He steeled his heart, refusing to feel any more of the well-deep pain. But it did not work. 'I cannot both hold her and drive the horses. I need help.'
'I don't think that is a rational solution.'
Considering the sharp and fiery pain raging through his chest, dragging her home seemed like a rational plan. As rational as he could possibly be.
'Ah, true love,' Father chuckled from his place at the table, sipping real tea for once. 'A fiery thing, that wife of yours. My advice is to surrender. 'Tis the best way to deal with an angry woman. I'd have thought you were smart enough to figure that out, boy. Then again, I never married such a strong-willed woman.'
'Tessa will see reason. I know she will. She's my wife and she belongs here with me.' In truth, he did not think he could keep going without her. She'd left an emptiness in his life and a worse one in his heart. He did not think he needed to admit such a vulnerability, not even to his family.
'You have much to learn about a woman, boy. Why-'
'Stop it, both of you,' Thomas roared. 'I can't believe I am hearing this. Tessa is a person with feelings. Her pain should not be trivialized with insincerity, Father. As for you, Jonah, she truly loved you. What do you think will convince her to risk her heart a second time?'
His love. 'Twould have to be enough.
A knock rattled the back door before Jonah could admit the truth aloud. Andy, coughing and pale, was closest to the door and hopped up to open it.
'Major?' The reverend stood in the threshold with the cheery morning sun slanting over him, forcing him to squint. 'I apologize for interrupting your morning meal, but Anya sent me.'
'Anya?' Jonah pushed out his chair and stood. 'Is there a problem? She went to the Bradfords to help Tessa tend her family.'
'You have not heard? The Bradford children are all recovering. 'Tis Tessa who is ill.'
'Ill?' He crossed the room in two strides. 'It cannot be. I saw her just two, nay, three days ago.'
The reverend's face saddened, and Jonah heard the knell of grief. ' Tis true, Jonah. I know you and your wife have had some kind of a disagreement, but now is not the time for conflict. She is gravely ill, mayhap dying. She didn't want you to come, but she has lost consciousness and Anya and I thought it best that you see her.'
A cold shock struck him like a blow, left him reeling but unable to feel.
'We'll go together.' Thomas' hand settled upon Jonah's shoulder. 'Reverend Brown, is there much hope?'
'Nay.' Sorrowful. 'Tessa is the healer, and now that she is sick, there's no one but Anya to tend her. She cares, but she is not skilled.'
'Then we'll call a surgeon. It helped Father.' Jonah's mind whirled. He could send Thomas, who would be swiftest, and mayhap-
'There is no time. 'Tis why I'm here. I thought you might want to say goodbye to your wife.'
Jonah saw the unavoidable truth in the reverend's eyes, and the compassion. For once, he could not hide, could not seal off his heart, could not freeze out the emotions battering his chest like a horned bull.
His heart cracked wide open. Tears stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.
'How long has she been like this?' Jonah demanded as Ely opened the door.
'Two days.' The rotund man blocked the threshold. 'She left strict instructions. You are not welcome here.'
'Move aside, Bradford,' Jonah growled, 'or I'll tear you limb from limb with my bare hands.'
The fleshy man stepped aside.
Jonah caught a dim impression of a filthy kitchen, dishes stacked in piles on the messy board table, the room abandoned. Maybe the others in this house had left for Charity's mother's home, to recover now that Tessa could not tend them. That knowledge sparked another wave of rage. He burst into the parlor and saw the pallet on the floor by the hearth.
Damn Ely. He could not even spare a bed?
'Master Jonah, you came.' Anya sprang up from the floor, fatigue bruising her face, harsh around her frightened eyes. 'The reverend thought he could convince you to come. Mistress Tessa made me swear not to send for you, but she's unconscious. So, I am not directly breaking my oath to her.'
Jonah's throat tightened at the sight of his wife restless with fever beneath a linen sheet. Somehow he managed to speak. 'You stayed all day and night with her.'
'Aye.' Sadness knelled in that quiet word. 'I don't know what else to do. I have applied the onion poultice and her lungs are not the problem now. Her fever is. I have used the compresses. I have soaked her in water. She became so chilled I dared not do it more.'
Jonah sank to his knees, his gaze never straying from Tessa's face, her dear face. He knew without looking the exact delicate cut of her jaw and chin and cheekbones, the shape of her silken mouth, of her small nose and dark lashes. Every part of her was etched in his memory, engraved in his heart.
He took her hand within his. Her skin felt far too hot, and he saw the blotchy redness marking her skin. The delirium twisted incomprehensible words from her mouth as she thrashed, the fever almost winning its battle.
Too late for a surgeon to bleed her, and he knew nothing about treating illnesses.
' 'Tis up to God now,' the reverend said, his boots barely tapping on the floorboards as he stepped into the room. 'And up to Tessa.'
'You're wrong, Reverend.' Jonah pressed his lips to Tessa's knuckles and closed his eyes. ' 'Tis up to me, too.'
How could he endure losing her? What if he never saw her again? Never to explain he loved her. How he loved her.
'Anya, keep applying compresses. Wasn't there a powder she used on the Hollingsworth child? I know she used it on Father.'
'Aye, but I am not certain of the dosage. I can't simply give her any amount, for the powder is dangerous and too much could kill her.'
'Well, the fever is already killing her.' Jonah shoved past Thomas who had just come from the stable. 'Brother, go upstairs and grab the first bed you see and bring it down here. They have Tessa lying on the floor.'
'Damn that Ely.' A fury matching his own snapped in Thomas' eyes. 'I'll find the softest mattress.'
