The Surrogate Wife

Josh started back toward the house where Meagan stood framed in the doorway.

“Now what do you suppose that was all about?” they said in unison. And, realizing what they had done, their laughter, also in unison, echoed over the little valley.

A short distance down the road Ruth Somers caught the sound and pulled her horse to a halt to listen. Of course, she couldn’t be sure it was laughter she heard, but Meagan was attractive and Josh was still young. She would have to keep an eye on them. After all, Judge Osborne had said that should Meagan Reilly seduce Josh or, most likely any other man, it would mean the hangman’s tree for her.

Yes, Ruth would have to keep her eyes open, but more than that, she would have to make sure she kept her own husband far away from the Daniels household. For the girl was young and pretty, and Rafe Somers was only a man.

Life in the Daniels house had fallen quite easily into place. Josh was not a vindictive man, and while he resented the girl’s presence to a certain degree, he could not deny that her willingness to work and make the best of a bad situation had made life a great deal easier for him. He often wondered what she was thinking as her great dark eyes followed him. She could be spunky, as he had discovered on their trip home from Banebridge. Josh saw no reason to make the situation any more difficult for either of them, so he did not question her any further about her part in Lily’s death. Instead, he went about his own business and made sure she tended to hers.

It had not taken Meagan long to discover that the cozy little room at the back of the house was the hub of the home. The front room had apparently been used only on special occasions. She dreaded going into the musty shadows to sleep even though it had the best feather bed in the house.

She lay stiffly on the bed, jumping at every creak and snap of the night-filled house. She dared not say a word about her nervousness, for Josh would surely believe her fears were caused by a guilty conscience rather than her inherent fear of being alone in the dark. A fear she had not been able to outgrow since childhood.

The only thing she feared worse was a storm. The apex of her fears struck before the week was out.

The wind was already moaning through the trees when she hurried across the little dogtrot and closed the door. The room was tight and sound. She would close her ears to the storm and pull the blankets up over her head and go to sleep, she promised herself.

Meagan pulled the blankets up, but the wind whined and sobbed, and then began lashing the house when it failed to disturb the human creatures who dared build a house in its domain.

For all Meagan’s promises she found her eyes wide open and her hands clenched against the feather bed. The wind and rain continued to strike the house. Tree branches bent and cracked as they whipped the house in fury. The wind seemed to come from all sides as it fought to find a chink in the walls. At the height of the storm Meagan heard the sound.

It groaned through the room. First one note, then two, and finally a full chord resounding in ghostly pleasure above the storm.

Meagan leaped from the bed. She stood in the middle of the floor as the lightning lit the night in unearthly splendor. The sound faded as Meagan backed toward the door, her eyes locked on the area where she knew the organ to be.

Once again the notes began, increasing in intensity until they drowned out even the wind. As they reached their highest intensity Meagan gave a yelp and dashed into the night.

Many times she had heard the Indians speak of the souls of the dead who found no peace and walked the earth during the storms. And though she knew no guilt in Lily’s death, she had been forced by the living to assume the blame, and she wasn’t about to see what punishment the dead might conceive.

The rain blew against her with full fury as she threw herself against the door to the room in which Josh slept. Her fingers slipped from the wet latch. She beat against the wood.

“Josh! Josh! Let me in!” she screamed. She rattled the useless latch as she hollered and banged, aware that the organ continued to sound out its ghastly melody.

“What in the hell is going on here?”

The door burst open against her pounding hands, and Meagan fell into Josh Daniels’s arms. She could feel the smooth warmth of his skin against her hands and buried her face against his chest to try to escape the sound that seemed to follow her. She felt his hand press ever so gently against her head, stroking her hair as though she were a frightened child. His other hand rested on her back, firmly, holding her against him as she relished the warmth and safety she knew when he enfolded her. The hair on his chest brushed her cheek and tickled her nose but she only burrowed closer, desperately trying to shut out the terror of the night. Her sobs quieted and she fought to gain control of herself, to curb her childish fears. She longed to stay with him as she had the night they had spent under the wagon, but she would be happy to sleep next to the fireplace in the kitchen if he was nearby to fend off the fearsome sounds of the night. But it was not to be, for although Meagan found safety in the arms of Josh Daniels’s, his reaction to Meagan was the exact opposite.

The lightning brightened the night and he could see the tears of terror on her face. “What is it?” he asked more gently.

“The organ…someone’s playing the organ. I heard them.”

“Nobody ever played that thing except Lily,” Josh said in exasperation. “What you heard was the wind.”

He wanted to push her away from him. He wanted to separate himself from the vibrant body that molded its lush, young curves against him. He wanted the cool softness as far away as possible before the spark dared to ignite and destroy them both. He could feel her face against his chest. Her hand brushed his taut nipple before her face burrowed into his chest.

He stroked her hair hoping to comfort her and restore her self-confidence so that he could put her from him and send her back to her room.

She trembled and he felt her legs wobble. He pressed her more closely against him, taking deep breaths, willing his body not to notice that her breasts had warmed and were burning orbs of fire against his naked chest. His hand slipped down her back, following the curves of her body, tracing them ever so gently but in a way he knew he would never be able to forget.

How could a man forget the resiliency of her skin, which was even more exciting through the thin, wet material of her cotton nightdress? How could a man forget the touch of her breath against his skin, heated with promise forever unfulfilled?

She sagged in his arms as her fear began to leave her. He moved to hold her weight and his leg was suddenly encased between the heat of her thighs. His head swam with desire. His blood pounded above the sound of the storm as it raced through his body, erasing the threat of punishment, any hope of reason or memory of decency in the headlong sweep of passion.

Oh, God, it had been so long since he had burned for a woman, and never, never as he did in this moment, with this woman whose body was like a torch that ignited his whole being. Blood surged through him, blocking out the ability to think. He didn’t want to think. He only wanted to feel. To feel her, to know her, to become part of her and to hear her cry out in her passion for him as she cried out for his comfort against her fears.

Her fears! If she feared the sounds of the storm, how much more greatly would she fear the gallows tree? And he would bring her to it, to be faced alone by the sick desire of a man for the murderer of his own wife.

With his last ounce of resolve, and dredging the depths of his soul for hard-held decency, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her from him.

He looked down into her face, taking in her eyes wet with tears, her cheeks flushed with fear and her lips parted, begging to be kissed. His body throbbed with his need for her. Were it not for the judge’s order, Meagan would be his, now, right here on the dogtrot, and again on the bed, and…

God in heaven, he was going mad. She was driving him wild. The whole situation was too much to bear, and if he could get his hands on Harvey Osborne he’d tear him limb from limb for imposing such an impossible sentence on a heretofore law-abiding, God-fearing man.

“I don’t hear anything,” he managed. And the Lord knew that was the truth. The blood was pounding so loudly in his head he couldn’t have heard a full-fledged Indian attack.

He took a few steps down the dogtrot, dragging the reluctant Meagan with him.

“Somebody was playing the organ,” Meagan gasped. “I heard it.”

“You heard the wind in the trees,” he assured her. “Now go on back to bed. We’ll have a long day tomorrow cleaning up after this storm.”

He shoved her inside the room and closed the door, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible.

Meagan started toward the bed, but before she reached it she heard the first note begin to swell.

This time she hit the door full tilt and stood shivering in the middle of the dogtrot. It would do no good to appeal to Josh. It was obvious he wanted as little to do with her as possible. Ignoring the pounding rain, she ran out into the storm.

Josh lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. He shut out the storm and the vision of Meagan’s face as she had looked into his eyes…into his soul.

He could still feel her flesh against his hands, cool and firm. His body ached to hold her again. He longed to go to her, to ease her childish fears of noises in the night. But he knew he did not dare. He would shut her from his mind, and in the light of day the night’s desires would evaporate like the shadows.

He forced himself to concentrate on the chores that would need to be done after a storm of this magnitude. There was always damage from the rain. The streams would be up and the trees down. They would have their work cut out for them for some days to come unless he missed his guess.

He took deep breaths as he mentally listed the tools he would need. His heart had stopped slamming against his chest as some semblance of sanity returned. He welcomed the relief sleep offered and allowed himself to drift on the edge of slumber until a persistent banging caught his attention.

Irritated, he pulled the pillow around his ears. He did not want to leave his bed again, but the pounding did not cease.

At first he thought it might be Meagan hammering at the door for admittance, but as awareness became prevalent he realized the sound was too distant. There was a hesitation but just as he relaxed it began again. Something had broken loose and was banging against the house.

He rolled over and sat on the side of the bed. Josh had to see what had happened and if it could be curbed before it did more damage. He pulled on his breeches and opened the door. The storm still raged, but Josh saw immediately the source of the sound.

With a curse, he crossed the dogtrot to where the door to Meagan’s room swung back and forth in the wind. It didn’t take him long to make sure that he was correct in his assumption. The room was empty. Meagan was gone.

Chapter Three

“From now on you can sleep behind the curtain in the larger bed,” Josh told Meagan the next morning as he sat drinking coffee and resting his head in his hand, his eyes bleary with lack of sleep. “I’ll take the cot out here.”

He’d searched half the night, believing that she had run away. Expecting with every step he took to find her lying dead in the mud and rain. Blaming himself for not having more control of himself and sending the frightened girl to face her fears alone when she had come to him for help.

The rain had disappeared with the night, and as the watery sun fought its way through the tops of the trees, Josh had wearily made his way to the barn. The cow had to be milked and the chores done. He’d never tell her how relieved he was when he saw her curled up under a blanket in the hay. He’d never admit that he stood there and just feasted his eyes on her as she slept in exhausted innocence. But he would never allow himself to forget that he had promised the good Lord that if he found her safe he’d never take another chance on being alone with her in a situation that might lead to dishonor and death.

And so, in the dim light of morning he burned her sleeping image into his mind and his heart, knowing he would never again dare hold her in his arms.

Even now, in the broad light of day, with the homey sounds and smells of breakfast surrounding them, Josh could hardly bear the pain of denial. He fought to keep his mind on his grits and eggs and off the woman who had prepared them.

“I don’t mind sleeping in the barn,” she was saying. “Besides, I have to get up early and start breakfast and…”

He shook his head. “There’s no need,” he told her. “I’m used to rising before anyone else is up. Lily was never one to rise with the sun. It takes me a bit to get myself together.” He paused and gave the matter some thought. “In fact, I’d be more comfortable if you didn’t bother to get up at the first crack of dawn. I’ll go out and start the chores. You can make breakfast, and have it ready when I come in. After that we’ll both start our day.”

Meagan nodded in agreement. But before she could speak he added, “And you will sleep behind the curtain.”

The blanket that separated them was adequate, and while Meagan was sure that Josh could not see through it to where she slept, Meagan was able to see him outlined against the light of the fire as he pulled his shirt over his head and got ready for bed.

The night was warm, and Meagan knew that sleeping near the fire must be uncomfortable. But it was his choice. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. It seemed but a few minutes when she was awakened by a sound.

Through a chink in the curtain she could see Josh moving around the room. He stirred the fire and swung the hob with the kettle on it over the flame. She realized it must be morning and was about to get up when she remembered his instruction. Silently she lay back on the bed, but sleep would not come and she found herself watching Josh as he moved about the room.

She followed the movement of his body as the light of the flames touched his chest and arms, his rippling muscles, flat belly and smooth skin that looked so warm and delicious in the firelight. She closed her eyes. The very fact that she dared allow such thoughts to exist was dangerous, if not life-threatening in her situation.

But her eyes would not stay shut. They devoured the man with a mind of their own, and she forgot even to breathe as he placed a basin on the table and washed his face and chest.

The firelight caught the droplets of water that clung to the golden hair across his chest. Like tiny jewels, the water tempted her. She felt the urge to run her fingers through his hair and take the water onto her own skin, still warm from his.

The thought made her squirm. The rope tether that cradled the mattress on the frame of the bed gave a muted groan and Josh looked toward the curtain, but Meagan had rolled over and pulled the comforter over her head in an effort to smother the shameful thoughts proximity with this man had placed in her mind.

She allowed herself the painful pleasure of remembering the feeling of warmth and security she had known when Josh had taken her into his arms that night as she lay shivering beneath the wagon. She had tried to forget. Heaven knew, she had tried to put the whole thing out of her mind. And, for the most part she had done so. It wasn’t her mind that refused to obey. It was her body. Her sinful body remembered every moment, every touch, every bit of wonderful warmth that seeped through the barriers between them and melted her heart and her soul.

How she wished she had met Josh under other circumstances. How she longed to have him look at her ‘ without the glimmer of sorrow in his eyes, and the accusation in his heart that was forever between them. And yet, she realized that his wife would have stood between them, alive or dead. According to all that Josh believed, had it not been for Meagan, his wife would still be alive. Meagan could not help but wonder how things might have played out had she been far away from the Somers household the day Lily fell down the stairs, and what Josh’s opinion of Meagan Reilly might have been if she had been introduced to the new widower as an eligible woman. But fate had dealt her a lethal blow and, try as she might, she could not resign herself to it.

Meagan blinked back the tears. She had waited all her life for such a man, and now she would never dare look further than serving as his slave for the rest of her life. Yet, she had begun to realize that even living as his servant was better than living without him.

She would work for him. She would work with him, and she would work harder than she had ever worked in her life. Perhaps then, as her reward for her toils, she could fall into a sleep that carried no dreams of life with—or without—Josh Daniels.

She heard the bar lift on the door. There was a swish of air through the cabin and she knew Josh was gone. With her vow in the forefront of her mind, Meagan dressed for the day and went to start breakfast.

As the summer heat gave way to the crisp mornings of fall the lives of Meagan and Josh began to assume a pattern of cautious camaraderie. Together they tended the land and the animals, rejoicing in the harvest and the abundance their toils had produced. Josh could find little fault with Meagan. When he chose to carry on a conversation with her he found her informed and intelligent. Without intending, Josh found himself asking her advice and listening to her opinion.

With the end of summer came the time for Josh’s daughter, Abbie, to return.

It was Will Carmichael who would retrieve the little girl from her grandparents. He stopped at the Daniels farm to tell Josh that he was planning a trip to Albany and would pick up the child on his way back.

“You had some reservations about leaving Abbie with Meagan when she first came to live with you,” Will reminded him. “Have those been resolved?”

“Meagan’s a right smart young woman. Has a lot of book learning. She’s going to be able to teach Abbie a lot of things I couldn’t,” Josh said. “I can’t fault her.”

If there was any fault to be had it was within Josh himself. He found himself listening for the sound of her voice as she sang while she hung out the laundry or called out to the chickens and ducks as she fed them. He would hurry in from the fields, embellish his accounts of little things that happened during the day to make her laugh and hold his breath at night to hear her gentle breathing behind the curtain across the room. But all these things were locked tight in his heart and he did not share them with his friend, although Will stood waiting for Josh to continue.

The silence lengthened until finally Josh added, “I’m sure that Meagan will get along nicely with Abbie and with the winter coming on I’ll be around the cabin most of the time. If there is any problem I’ll know about it.”

Will nodded. “That will be best,” he agreed, cutting short his own thoughts as he became aware from his friend’s expression that Josh had something more to say. “What is it, Josh?” he asked. “Has Meagan done something to upset you?”

“Other than being prone to accidents, and afraid of the dark, she seems fine,” Josh admitted.

“Accident-prone?”

“Just little things, mostly,” Josh said as he thought back. “Except for the other day when the big cast-iron pot we make the soap in fell off the shelf and darn near knocked her head off.”

“What was a soap cauldron doing on a shelf in the first place?” Will asked.

“Danged if I know.” Josh gave it some thought. “Never saw it up there before, but it was sure there that day. On the shelf right above the washtub.”

“Is Meagan all right?”

“She managed to jump out of the way, but it about scared the life out of me. She seemed to take the whole thing in stride.” There was a hint of approval in Josh’s voice as he spoke of the incident that wasn’t wasted on Will Carmichael.

“Is that all?” Will asked.

“Well, that and the night Meagan thought the organ was haunted.”

“The organ? The one in the parlor?” Will reiterated.

“That’s the one,” Josh admitted. “She was sleeping in there on the daybed and swore she heard it playing in the middle of the night. The girl’s got a real good imagination. Guess she was afraid of the rainstorm and didn’t want to admit it.”

“Does it happen often?” Will was playing for time. He had wondered where the girl slept and was fairly certain it wasn’t the barn. He wondered if he should remind Josh of the judge’s warning. For that matter, he had been wondering if she should warn Meagan, but since they slept in separate buildings he needn’t worry. He gave a sigh of satisfied relief as Josh answered his question.

“It won’t happen anymore. She stays in here with me and sleeps behind the blanket there.”

That did it! The time had come to speak out. “You remember what Judge Osborne said.”

“I remember.” Josh didn’t bother to hide the resentment in his voice, and Will didn’t know whether to bless the judge, or blast him to hell.

“Besides, it isn’t Meagan that worries me—” Josh wiped the back of his neck with his hanky “—it’s Ruth Somers.”

“Has she heard the organ playing too?” Will asked innocently.

Josh gave his friend a dirty look and continued. “Ruth stops by here right often. A bit too often, if you ask me. It was different when Lily was alive. Lily enjoyed entertaining and couldn’t seem to get enough of it, but with both Meagan and me off in the fields it’s kinda unnerving to come home and find Ruth sittin’ here waiting.”

“What does she want?”

“Far as I can see she just wants to make trouble. She says she wants to make sure Meagan is doing her job and hasn’t run off, but she’s sure got a funny way of doing it. Guess I kind of resent Ruth playing God as far as Meagan’s concerned.” Josh rubbed his neck again. “You don’t suppose she knew the girl from somewhere before, do you?”

“I wouldn’t know where it could be, but I’ll surely see what I can find out.”

“That will be fine,” Josh agreed. “I doubt that there’s anything to it, but it just doesn’t make sense that a woman could harbor so much hatred toward another. Seems like it should almost be the other way around. I mean, if what Meagan claims is true, she should be mad at Ruth for getting her convicted for something she says she didn’t do.”

Will could hardly avoid showing the satisfaction he felt on hearing Josh’s words, because Will had never believed Meagan was guilty of the crime. He had expressed his opinion openly until it became obvious that championing Meagan was costing him clients among the women who liked and believed in the stalwart Ruth Somers. Ruth was one of the cornerstones of the widespread community and given a great deal of credibility by the other members.

“I’ll let you know if I learn anything,” Will promised. “Ruth has always been something of a busybody.”

“It’s just that she seems to have a real mean streak when it comes to Meagan and I don’t want the woman hanging over our heads like a nesting vulture when Abbie comes home.”

The comparison of Ruth to a vulture caused Will to burst into laughter. Josh joined him and they were both in the throes of jocularity when Meagan joined them.

“Is it a private joke?” she asked.

Josh wiped his eyes. “We were just talking about Ruth Somers.”

“There must be something I missed about the woman,” Meagan said in confusion, “because I swear I’ve yet to see anything funny about her.”

This sent the men into another gale of laughter. Exasperated, Meagan started back toward the house. “I’ll get you both something to eat. Unless I miss my guess, you’ve already had enough corn whiskey.”