Page 81 of More than Words Can Say

Rosalind had stayed behind to clean up dinner and was then meeting up with a group of friends to watch the fireworks. She wouldn’t be home for at least an hour or two. But why would she lock Abigail out of their room?

A seed of suspicion took root, sending Abigail down the hall to the master bedroom. That door stood open. One of her nightgowns—the pretty one with the embroidered roses at the neckline—lay draped across Zach’s bed. And there on the washstand sat her brush and hairpins. And the soap she liked. Her Sunday dress probably hung in the wardrobe as well. Rosalind had always been good with details. The romantic little schemer.

“Everything all right?”

Her husband’s voice nearly scared a shriek out of her. When had the hammering stopped?

Abigail spun around, her cheeks flaming at the scene she knew he could see over her head. “It seems Rosie’s ready to kick me out of her room.” She grinned, trying to lighten the mood even as her pulse accelerated. “She locked me out.”

Zach’s dark blue eyes searched hers. “I can take the door off the hinges if you want to sleep there.”

Heavens how she loved this man. Always ready to put her needs ahead of his own.

Despite her uncertainty about what the marriage act actually entailed and her embarrassment over what her husband might think of her shape without all the tucks and lifts of her corset, she knew in her heart that it was time. Yes, children might result from their union, but she’d leave that possibility in God’s hands. It wasn’t right to keep herself from her husband out of fear that she couldn’t be both mother and professional baker. If children came, she and Zach would figure out the best way to handle that particular challenge in the same way they were handling their current challenges—together.

It was time to become Zach’s wife in full and to show him exactly how deep her love ran.

Zach could barely breathe as he watched his wife nibble on her lower lip. Please choose me, he silently begged even though he wouldn’t hold it against her if she didn’t. He hungered for her worse than he’d hungered for food during those lean years of his childhood, but he’d abide by her wishes. Abby had endured enough people foisting their will onto hers today. Her desires, her needs would come first.

Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch his arm. She took one step closer and tilted her chin up, just like she did when he claimed his good-night kisses. Stuffing down his disappointment, Zach placed his palm on her hip and leaned toward her. It might not be what he’d hoped for, but a kiss from Abigail was still a pleasure to savor.

He lowered his head. However, before his lips reached hers, she spoke.

“I don’t want to share Rosalind’s room anymore,” she murmured, her voice breathy and soft as her fingers squeezed his bicep. Her lashes lifted, and her brown eyes glimmered with shy invitation. “I want to stay with you.”

“You’re sure?” Heaven help him if she backed out now, but he didn’t want any second thoughts getting in the way later.

When she gave a small decisive nod, a host of fireworks that had nothing to do with the country’s birthday shot off inside his chest.

Digging his fingers into her hip, he tugged her closer. The movement caught her off guard, and her head fell backward. He took advantage and laid a trail of kisses on the soft skin of her neck.

“Thank you for choosing me,” he rasped as he passed by her ear. Not only choosing him tonight, but choosing him all those weeks ago when she searched for a husband. He shuddered at how close he’d come to making the biggest mistake of his life by turning her down. Thank God for Rosalind. Without her push, he might still be an antisocial bachelor believing he was better off alone.

“I always choose you.” Abby’s vow slipped between his ribs to wrap around his heart. He pulled back slightly, and she met his gaze. “Always.”

A surge of strength flooded his muscles, making him feel invincible. Perhaps even strong enough to return her love.

In a single movement, he swept his wife into his arms and carried her across the threshold. Her nervous giggle heightened his confidence as he marched forward, barely pausing long enough to kick the door closed behind him.

He might not have the words yet, but he’d make sure every touch, every kiss, every passionate embrace communicated his devotion.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Abigail rolled over and met cold sheets. She sought out her sister’s warmth, but Rosalind wasn’t there. And her pillow smelled decidedly masculine. Abby’s eyes popped open.

Zach.

Memories assailed her. Gentle, patient loving. Her husband holding her close and brushing his fingers lightly over her back until she drifted off to sleep as the pop of fireworks reported in the distance.

Her husband. In all ways.

Abigail hugged the knowledge close but quickly grew discontent, wanting to hug her husband close instead. The man who was supposed to be beside her.

A quiet ruffling sound echoed by the window that overlooked the alley. Propping an arm beneath her, Abigail leveraged herself up and searched for Zach in the shadows. He stood by the window, his face turned away from her as he gazed into the darkness. In his hands were a set of playing cards, expertly slipping through his fingers like well-trained soldiers on the march.

Abigail’s belly tightened, and she pushed back the covers. Padding on bare feet, her white cotton nightgown fluttering down to cover her legs as she moved, she silently approached her husband. “Zach?”

He didn’t jump at her voice, so he must have been aware of her presence, but it still took long moments for him to stop riffling the cards and bring his face around to meet her gaze. When he did, the torment etched in his features broke her heart.

“I want to fix it, Abby. I need to fix it.”