Page 25 of More than Words Can Say

He dodged backward. “Whoa. Easy there.” Gently, he circled her wrist with one hand and extracted the cutlery from her with the other. “I didn’t think having dessert before supper was a fatal request.” His lips twitched slightly. “Guess I can wait ’til afterward like the rest of ’em.”

Cake. Of course. He’d been talking about cake. Not kisses.

She brazened a smile. “Sorry about that. I’m a little jumpy.”

He raised a brow. A little?

She shrugged, silently conceding the point. “I think it would be permissible for the groom to receive special treatment on his wedding day.” Something flashed in his eyes, but she ignored it. Her imagination had gotten her into more than enough trouble already. Reclaiming the knife that Zach had placed on the table after confiscating it, she slid the flat of the blade under the widest piece of cake and moved it to a nearby plate. “Just don’t let the children catch you, or Audrey will rap your knuckles.” She collected a fork and handed over the dessert.

“I’ll hide over here in the corner.” He moved around the table to a spot a few strides away against the wall. Fitting his back into the corner’s crease, he sliced off a large piece of cake and lifted it to his mouth.

As people milled closer to the table and started filling plates, hiding seemed like an excellent notion. With no appetite to speak of, Abigail picked up one of the glasses of water she’d filled earlier, then abandoned her post by the cake and moved to assist Zach in holding up the far wall.

“Good cake,” he said as he shoved another bite into his mouth.

She guessed that meant he liked chocolate. Abigail grinned to herself. He made no further effort at conversation, and she was glad. It was nice just to stand next to him without worrying about what to say.

Although there was one question she’d been pondering. Something a wife should know about her husband. “Is Mitchell your middle name?”

The bite of cake must have lodged in his windpipe, for he suddenly started coughing. Much like he had when she’d first proposed, as a matter of fact.

Alarmed, Abigail took the plate from him and pressed her water glass into his hand. “Here. Drink this.” She worked a hand between him and the wall and thumped his back.

Apparently her husband was allergic to marriage proposals and personal questions. He’d managed to overcome his marriage allergy right enough, so hopefully he’d recover from the questions as well. Because there was a whole bucketful waiting for answers, and she didn’t intend to remain ignorant.

CHAPTER

14

Zach guzzled every last drop of water from the glass his new wife handed him, needing the time to compose an appropriate response. One that would answer her question without opening up his past for further investigation.

“Are you all right?” Abigail touched his arm.

He nodded, taking quick stock of the rest of the room. No one else seemed to have noticed his episode, or at least they were putting up a good front of being unaware. Except Logan, who was chuckling under his breath. At least until Evie smacked him with the back of her hand. Sisters did have their uses.

Gripping the empty drinking glass, Zach ran the pad of his thumb over the rim, memories assailing him. Riverboats. Orphan trains. A sacrifice he’d never deserve. “Mitchell’s the surname I was born with,” he finally admitted. No need to go into more detail about his sire. A famous riverboat gambler as a father might impress saloon rats, but it wasn’t exactly the heritage a proper woman like Abigail would appreciate. “Hamilton’s the name Evie, Seth, and I adopted when we became a family. It was the name of Evie’s blood brother who died in the derailment.”

“Derailment?” Abigail’s brown eyes exuded compassion, but Zach wouldn’t be drawn in. The fewer details he offered, the better. She might feel pity for a bunch of orphans surviving on their own, but her charity would shrivel and die if she learned all he’d done to aid that survival. Better to turn her soft heart in another direction.

“Orphan train.” Zach dropped his gaze to his boots. He didn’t like to think of that day. The broken glass. The blood. The wrong boy dead. “Hamilton saved my life in the crash.” He rumbled his throat to clear out the thickness. “Made me promise to watch out for his sister. So I did.” Not always in the way Hamilton would have wanted, Zach knew, but he’d done his best. “Evie’s a Fowler now, and Seth reverted to Jefferson when he married, but I want to keep Hamilton. Honor the kid who saved my life.” And hide the man he didn’t want to be.

“So you use both names.” A practical statement from a practical woman. He hadn’t realized how much he appreciated that side of her until now. She understood without the frills of emotion flapping around and distracting from the core truth. She simply nodded as if his choice to carry a name that didn’t belong to him made perfect sense.

He met her gaze. “I keep both for legal purposes, but my name is Hamilton. Our name is Hamilton.”

A dusky pink flushed her cheeks at the possessive tone of his voice. The force of the statement had surprised him as well, but he didn’t regret it. She needed to know where he stood. Vows had been spoken. Abigail was bound to him now, and he to her. Yes, they had some details to iron out between them, but time would work out the wrinkles.

He hoped.

Because if it was left up to him, things might stay bumpy. He wasn’t exactly one of them smooth lothario types who could put a woman at ease with a pretty compliment and gallant manners. Though he did have a knack for planing lumber until it leveled enough to be useful. Zach stood a little straighter. Charm and flattery made flimsy building materials for crafting a life with someone. Much better to use something with actual substance. Most women cared more about flocked wallpaper than the hidden beams supporting it, but hopefully his practical little baker would prove an exception.

Brother Samuelson skirted the food table and made his way toward them, Bible tucked under his arm.

Abigail stepped forward to greet the preacher. “Thank you for a lovely ceremony, Parson. And on such short notice. I hope we didn’t interfere with your schedule too badly.”

“Not at all.” He smiled at Abigail, then slanted an arch look at Zach.

The two of them had engaged in a rather vigorous discussion about the rushed nature of the wedding. Samuelson had expressed several qualms. In fact, he’d refused to perform the ceremony at first, but Zach had explained the need for haste and given his promise to provide for and protect the Kemp sisters. That assurance, plus the grilling the preacher had dished out for the next quarter hour, finally convinced Samuelson to reconsider. He’d shoved a heap of scripture at Zach about weaker vessels and one flesh and loving one’s wife as Christ did the church, then promised to keep the wedding secret and appear at the appointed time. The look he aimed at Zach clearly insinuated that he’d held up his end of the bargain. Now it was Zach’s turn.