The Matchmaker of Fairfield: (Clean Historical Western Romance) Read online

  Putting them out of her mind, she made her way quickly towards Elijah.

  Kneeling down beside him, she could see the blood dripping from the hand that covered the upper part of his left arm. She stared at it, blinking twice as she tried to think what best to do.

  She could hear his heavy breathing beside her. Once he turned towards her and tried to speak.

  “I-Ivy,” he said, weakly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Shh,” she told him, thinking quickly. Her eyes darted towards the door of the cabin that made up the office for the mill.

  “Can you stand at all?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he said. “Don’t think the boys did much more than knick me.”

  Even in the dark light, Ivy could see his attempt at a valiant smile even as his face grew pale. He moved the hand covering his wounded arm to the ground. Ivy tried her best not to gasp as the movement revealed two stab wounds. One in Elijah’s arm and another in his side.

  With a quick swallow, she moved beneath his bad arm as he draped it over her shoulders. She took hold of his waist and they began the slow, steady walk to the cabin.

  The irony of her situation was not completely lost on Ivy. How long had she dreamed of walking with Elijah Bellows like this? His arm draped around her shoulder; her body leaning against his.

  Though she realized, none of those fantasies had involved Elijah’s blood staining her dress as they walked.

  When they reached the inside of the cabin, Ivy deposited Elijah gently in a wooden chair beside an empty fireplace. Quickly, she lit two candles on the window pane before turning back to Elijah.

  “I’ll need to bandage those wounds before you lose any more blood,” she said. “Are there any bandages or clean cloths in here?”

  “There are some in the cupboard by the door,” he said. “And there’s a bit of alcohol beneath that. We use it for men who have accidents on the line at the mill.”

  Ivy made her way to the cupboard Elijah had indicated and gathered several bandages. As she did, she took several deep breaths and closed her eyes to calm herself.

  She did not know what happened to the sheriff. Perhaps he had dismissed Bridget’s warning and decided not to come after all. This was entirely possible. The sheriff was known to be skeptical of the words of women.

  But, then, why would he have told Bridget that he intended to come to the mill?

  Shoving these questions aside, she turned back to Elijah, bandages and a bit of alcohol in hand. She knelt beside the chair and inspected the stab wounds closely in the candle light.

  “Lucky for you, they look fairly shallow,” she said as she dipped the clean rag she had gathered from the cupboard slightly into the alcohol.

  “Lucky for me Brian O'Connell and his friend had a few sips of whiskey before-Jesus!”

  He cried out as Ivy brought the rag dabbed with alcohol to wipe the wound in his arm. She flinched at his curse and took her hand away.

  “Sorry,” he said immediately. “Didn’t mean to curse.”

  “No, it’s my fault,” Ivy said quietly. “I should have warned you it might sting.”

  “Well, now I know,” Elijah said. Looking down at the rag still poised in Ivy’s hand, he nodded and she pressed the rag back to his arm. A sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth was the only sign of discomfort Elijah allowed himself this time.

  Ivy made sure to wipe the wound as best she could through the large tear in his long sleeved shirt. But, she knew that it was the most she could do while he was dressed.

  She moved the rag from his arm and felt her face flush as she imagined asking what she knew she needed to.

  “I don’t expect you can put those bandages on while I’m still in my shirt, can you?” Elijah asked before she could force herself to get the words out.

  “I...I can turn around while you undress if you like,” she began hesitantly, the heat rising so high in her face that she began to fear she might burn from embarrassment.

  “No point in that,” Elijah said. “I’ll need help getting it off this arm at any rate.” He nodded towards his wounded right arm.

  Ivy took two deep breaths and nodded. She moved towards him, not daring to look up at his face. She found her eyes instead staring at his good left hand slowly, painfully, undoing the buttons on his shirt.

  When she move to help him shrug it off, she felt his gaze moved towards her. Before she could stop herself, her eyes met his. A familiar, flirty grin spread across his face as she felt his warm breath spread across her cheek.

  “I must admit,” he said quietly. “I’d rather have a pretty girl like you handling this than the old doctor.”

  He winked at her and it took all the strength Ivy had in her not to be taken in by him. Then, she remembered his arm draped around Emily Bunting. His brother teasing him about all the girls he had charmed and, taking a deep breath, she hardened her heart and continued her task.

  His shirt was removed with all the cold, calculation Ivy could muster. She bandaged his arm in silence and did not speak until she recognized the need to clean the considerably smaller stab in his side.

  “Remember, this will sting,” she said placing the alcohol laced rag on the wound. She felt a small swell of satisfaction when he made a guttural noise of discomfort once again.

  She immediately felt guilty for that satisfaction. After all, no matter what this man had done, he certainly did not deserve to be stabbed while simply exiting his office.

  Besides that, the silence that stretched between them as she ran the rag in her hand along his torso was becoming more and more palpable. This silence was making it difficult for Ivy to focus on anything but the warmth of his skin and the tautness of his muscle. If she was to stop these thoughts in their tracks, she knew they would have to speak.

  “So,” she said, her voice shaking with effort. “I take it this was Brian O'Connell's handiwork.”

  She chanced to glance up to Elijah only briefly to see him nod in agreement.

  “He blames me for his engagement being called off,” he said.

  “To Emily Bunting?” Ivy felt her heart sink at the mere mention of the other girl’s name.

  “Yes,” Elijah answered. “Apparently some of his buddies saw me walking with her to the tavern last Thursday.”

  Ivy thought about telling him that Brian O'Connell's friends were not the only ones who saw him laughing with Emily Bunting last week. And, it certainly was not only Brian O'Connell who had been upset by the sight. But, she knew mentioning it would not do any of them any good. So, she kept silent.

  “I did wonder,” Elijah said. “What were you doing walking out towards the mill after dark?”

  Ivy hesitated again. For some reason, admitting that she had learned of Brian O'Connell's plot from Bridget felt close to admitting a secret.

  “I...I just felt like a walk,” she said. “To clear my head before dinner. I ended up walking a little further than I’d planned to.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did,” Elijah said. “And not only because you make a very good nurse.”

  Though she kept her eyes focused on her task, she could tell from the sound of his voice that he was smiling at her in that flirty way once more. She swallowed and answered as plainly as she could.

  “When you work in a tavern,” she said. “You become used to cleaning up scrapes and bruises. I’ve had to clean up from more than one drunken brawl.”

  “Between that and caring for stray dogs, I’m begining to wonder if there’s anything working in a tavern doesn’t equip you for,” Elijah said with a smile. Ivy fought against the urge to smile back.

  “Either way,” Elijah continued, “I’m glad I’ve got a chance to speak to you alone.”

  “And why is that?” Ivy asked coldly, now setting the rag aside and grasping the bandages in order to wrap them around Elijah’s side.

  “Well, you see,” Elijah began, his voice much less confident than it had been mere moments ago. “I’ve been meaning to
apologize to you.”

  “Apologize for what, Mr. Bellows?” Ivy asked trying to keep the surprise out of her voice as she continued to wrap the bandages around his side.

  “I know you’ve been avoiding me, Ivy,” he said. “I wanted to say that if I’ve offended you or made you feel uncomfortable in any way-”

  “You haven’t offended me,” Ivy told him, reluctantly. It was only now when she realized just how sincere his voice sounded, that she had been a bit unfair to him.

  She realized then that she would have to reveal to him what she had been trying my best to hide all these long months. What she had tried her best to repress almost since the moment she met him.

  “I realize that men in your position have a tendency to be...familiar with girls like me,” she told him as delicately as she could, securing the bandage to his side.

  “How do you mean?” He asked. He sounded genuinely confused and she realized she would have to be more straightforward.

  “I think you know what I mean,” she told him. “I know flirting with girls who are...below your station is something wealthy men do.”

  “What do you-”

  “But, I’m afraid I can’t allow it to go on,” I told him. “Not when you are running about town with other girls.”

  “Ivy-”

  “I am not a worldly woman, Mr. Bellows,” she said, cutting him off before he could put in some sort of defense. She knew he would try to deny his dalliance with Emily Bunting was anything serious. And she couldn’t let him. Not until she had fully explained herself.

  “I’m not used to this sort of attention and receiving it from...from a man like you...causes me to think about things I shouldn’t.”

  “What sort of things?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious.

  “The sort of things all silly little girls dream about,” she told him. “About courtship and marriage and a family. I know you don’t want that with me. After all, I’m a poor orphan. Not to mention a good deal more plain than Emily Bunting-”

  He cut her off with a laugh that caused Ivy to look up in surprise.

  “Is that what you’ve been worried about?” he asked. “That I might actually prefer her to you?”

  “Don’t you?” she asked quietly.

  He smiled in that flirty, self-assured way again. The smile that always caused her heart to stop completely in her chest. He leaned in close to her. So close that she could feel his breath tickling her face.

  He lifted one warm hand to touch her cheek and Ivy’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Ivy,” he said softly. “You are worth twelve Emily Buntings.”

  Before Ivy could be quite sure what was happening; before she could still the pulse jumping in her wrist, Elijah’s lips met hers.

  Her eyes flew closed as she savored the kiss. It was soft and tender and everything she had dreamed that it might be.

  It was only when he began to deepen the kiss. When he reached around to the back of her hair and began to tangle his hands in it that she remembered what she had told him.

  She was not a worldly woman. And, what’s more, she had no interest in becoming one.

  Reluctantly, she moved her hands to his chest and pushed him away from her.

  When he pulled away, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and hurt, it was all she could do to keep her composure; to keep herself from leaning into him once more.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “This,” she said shakily.

  His brow furrowed and his confusion seemed to deepen as he looked at her. She realized that she would have to explain herself.

  “This is what I meant, Elijah,” she said. “I can’t be another one of your conquests. I can’t be just another girl you kiss in an abandoned shack and forget about the next morning.”

  “That’s not what I want from you.”

  “Then prove it,” she said firmly. She realized only after the words had left her mouth that she was speaking to Elijah much more confidently than she had spoken to anyone before. It almost terrified her until she took a breath and told herself to remember what Bridget had said: ‘If you don’t learn to ask for what you want, you’ll never get it.’

  “How can I prove it?” he asked. “Tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”

  Ivy’s mind began to race as that tiny horrible voice of doubt inside her reminded her that she had never asked anything of a man. She always believed that was not a woman’s place. Men were meant to ask the lady for courtship. Men were meant to set a standard for women to follow.

  Still, she had to admit this was a most unusual circumstance. And, there could be no turning back now.

  “I...I want to be courted,” she said. Her voice had become shaky again, still she tried to make the words as clear as possible.

  “I want you to ask me to dinner with your family, or offer to walk me home after I’ve finished work,” she said. “I want you to treat me as you would a fine lady. A lady you might like to marry.”

  Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared fixedly at Elijah. She had no idea how he might respond to her request. She only knew that she had laid her heart in front of him. It was his choice now, whether or not to accept it.

  After a moment’s tense silence, Elijah’s face lit up with a broad smile. This was different from the flirtatious, confident grin she’d always seen on him. This smile looked open, welcoming.

  “Is that all you need from me?” he asked.

  Unable to speak, Ivy nodded ‘yes’.

  “Well then,” he said slowly carefully reaching out to take both of her hands in his. “I promise you, I will treat you better than the finest lady in all of Washington. Beginning with a formal invitation to dine with me and my brother next week.”

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, Ivy felt a smile, much broader than she could ever remember feeling, spread across her own face. Before she knew quite what she was doing, she moved towards Elijah and throw her arms around his neck in a fierce embrace.

  It was only when he let out a grunt of pain that she remembered the wound in his arm.

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” she said pulling back. His good hand reached out and grabbed hold of hers to keep her from pulling back too far.

  “You have to make me a promise now,” he said. They were still close enough that she could feel his breath. His eyes swirled in front of her as though placing her in a trance.

  “What is it?” she asked, breathlessly.

  “Never apologize to me again,” he said.

  She felt another smile creep slowly across her face.

  “I think I can do that,” she said.

  This time, when he pulled her in for another soft, gentle kiss, she allowed it to linger.

  Chapter Seven- Bridget

  “Stop fretting,” Bridget said as Ivy once again tried to adjust her best Sunday dress in the full mirror of their room. “You look lovely. Besides, I’ve a feeling Elijah would think you beautiful even if you showed up in rags.”

  “If I showed up in rags, I don’t think they would let me through the front door,” Ivy answered. Her breathless, high pitched voice was still filled with anxiety. But, Bridget did note that tonight, that small, shaking voice also carried a note of excitement.

  This gave Bridget a small helping of hope. At least Ivy was allowing herself to be excited. It was progress.

  When Ivy had asked Bridget to attend a dinner with Elijah and his brother Mark as a chaperone, the girl had been absolutely frantic. As though she had been arrested for some crime and was asking Bridget for legal council.

  Now, hints of happiness and contentment had begun to show through Ivy’s fearful demeanor. Bridget was hoping to see a full, contented smile on the girl’s face by the end of the night.

  “Are you ready?” Bridget asked as she gathered her small handbag.

  Ivy looked at herself critically in the mirror once more. Bridget had suggested her pastel green Sunday frock to bring out the colo
r of her eyes. She had also created a crown of braids with Ivy’s hair and tied a pink ribbon in it that provided a lovely contrast to the black curls.

  She did, indeed, look lovely.

  “I suppose I am,” Ivy said finally. And, taking her own bag in hand, she followed Bridget down the steps and out the door of the lodging-house.

  The Bellow’s mansion stood less than a mile outside of town. Bridget felt her eyes widen as they approached the entrance. The house stood amidst a large green field run over with huge pine trees. Spring wildflowers of all kinds carpeted the ground beneath the path they walked.

  The mansion itself was larger than any fine residence Bridget had seen in Boston. It was not stuck between a dozen other homes on the same street, nor was it protected by a high fence as homes back east had been.

  Indeed, there did not seem to be a fence on the whole of the property. And the whitewashed facade of the home loomed high over them, reminding Bridget more of a grand theater or cathedral than a residence.

  When they climbed the steps, the butler bowed them inside and lead them from the enormous, gilded hall with a winding staircase into the dining room.

  Bridget barely had time to marvel at the long table or the beautiful, white and pink china lining the walls when her eyes landed on the two men standing at the end of the table.

  Elijah still wore a small bandage on his left arm where the stab wound had entered. Otherwise, he seemed quite recovered from his ordeal. The ruddiness had returned to his face which lit up as soon as he caught sight of Ivy.

  Bridget spared a glance to Ivy who’s face, of course, had gone pink, though a small, shy smile lined her features as well.

  When Bridget’s eyes traveled to Mark, she could not help but notice that Elijah’s brother seemed less than thrilled by the proceedings. A bored sort of frown lined his face and his eyes kept darting toward the dining room door. As though he was a prisoner of war planning his escape.

  “You look lovely,” Elijah said coming towards Ivy and taking her hands in his.

  “That’s Bridget’s doing,” Ivy said. “I would never have known the first thing to do with my hair.”