"Do not tease, brother. I'm not proud of myself. I only meant to jest. Why, Tessa is an honest woman, but there isn't one man in all of Connecticut Colony who could see the Tessa Bradford you married. I have come to like her, and I respect her for what she does."
"As do I."
"She brought our father back to us, when the surgeon had no hope. And now Andy is ill, and she is up there right now at his side, no matter that 'tis midnight and she's had little sleep to call her own."
"You're telling me what I already know."
Lightning flashed, thunder rattled the windowpanes. Thomas hefted the curtain away from the glass and stared out at the black sheets of rain. "She thinks we treat her well, and my conscience bothers me. How it bothers me. But what troubles me more is that my brother, the great heroic Major Hunter, reported to save innocent colonists from marauding Indians, is using this good-hearted woman."
"I am not using her." Defensive rage flared in his chest, more striking than the lightning searing the night.
"Then what do you call it? You should have hired a nurse, Jonah. Not married that poor woman. She thinks you love her," Thomas scolded over the raging thunder.
"I do happen to care about her." Jonah tossed down the towels to clench his hands. "She's my wife, and none of your concern."
"What goes on in front of my nose is my concern." Thomas spun from the window, and a single bayberry candle illuminated the fight in his eyes. "She has done naught but care for every member in this family since she arrived here. Aye, and she even cares for a penniless servant. She believes you love her, Jonah, and new dresses and decent treatment do not excuse how you lie to her and deceive her. She thinks she has your heart."
"Aye, but how can I say such a thing to her?" Troubled, Jonah faced the window, studying the night-black windowpanes and his own reflection within. "It would hurt her terribly, and that is why she can't know. I may have chosen to marry her because she could take care of Father, but that's not why I want her to stay. I-"
Something clattered to the floor behind him. A silence settled on the room. Not even the thunder above dared to intrude. Jonah felt her presence like a touch to his back, like a mark on his conscience.
"Look how clumsy I am." She knelt to the floor, retrieving the fallen bowl. She turned away so that the nighttime shadows cloaked her face. Her hands worked quickly. "Jonah, you took so long for the towels. Tis time to take the paste off Andy's chest."
Her hands shook as she set the bowl on the counter.
Damn his stupid tongue. "Tessa." He stepped forward.
She sidestepped. "I need only a bit of wash water." She poured water from the lukewarm kettle into her shallow bowl. Her voice sounded thick with unshed tears. "Whilst there is still no fever, 'tis best to be cautious."
"Tessa, you misunderstand. I did not mean those words the way they sounded." He had only wanted to keep her from hurting, to protect her caring heart.
Tessa was a person, his wife, with feelings deep and true, and he had been wrong to think an unwanted spinster who worked for a roof over her head would be merely glad to live in a big house and have a life of ease. She had dreams and needs and a heart large enough to spend her days and nights caring for those in the village who were ill or dying. Many accepted her help only to tease her or judge her when it suited, and all without payment, without reward.
She was a woman who had offered to care for his dying father out of gratitude, out of a kindness Father had shown to her mother many years ago.
Those were not sensible actions, but deeds of a deeply feeling heart.
"Tessa, let me explain." He could make this right, he knew he could. He was not using her. Not for his pleasures in bed, not as a nurse for his family. Tessa was his wife and he was both proud and pleased with her. He would give her more-his whole heart-if he had it to give.
But she scooped up the towels and the basin and hurried off, her gait efficient and sensible.
"I don't think she will forgive you," Thomas predicted.
As if in agreement, lightning split the shadowed light between them and thunder shattered the night.
Her hands trembled as she cleaned the dried mash of onions and herbs from Andy's chest. He woke with a murmur, then went back to sleep. Not yet sick, but a fever on the way. She dried his chest and covered him well. She could do no more for now.
She felt numb clear to the bone as she folded the soiled towels and set them by the door for Anya to gather in the morning. And that numbness grew as she blew out the candle and crept through the room. A glow from the dying fire tossed light at her feet and she stepped out into the unlit corridor, her mood just as dark.
She heard footsteps on the staircase, tapping slowly. Jonah's gait, Jonah's step. Her pulse drummed in her ears, fast and hollow. She listened to the knell of his boots against the floor silence outside Andy's chamber, then progress down the corridor.
"Tessa?"
She turned toward the chest of drawers. A spear of lightning flashed, and a second of white light illuminated the wooden handle of the hairbrush. Darkness returned and her fingers curled around the worn handle.
"May I ask what you heard?"
"Enough." She flicked her braid over shoulder and tugged at the ribbon. The bow loosened.
"I'm sorry for what I said. I'm glad you are my wife, regardless of what you heard."
"I bet you are." She dropped the small bit of ribbon on the chest of drawers and ran her fingers through the plaiting to loosen it. "Your father is well. 'Tis what you wanted. What you bartered your future for."
"That's not true and you know it." His voice twisted, rang low and solemn. His footsteps drummed on the floor, then whispered on the braid carpet "I am well pleased with you. Surely you know that."
"I don't know what to believe." She shook her hair out.
"You can believe that I care about you." His hands curled around her shoulders, possessive, as if he were afraid to let go of her.
"Fine. You care about me. You care that I tend your father." She shrugged away from his touch and faced him, the numbness in her heart remaining, but anger was starting to smolder. "I would have stood by him anyway, without being married to you. But I suppose you couldn't understand that, not the great Jonah Hunter, not a man who can buy anything he wishes. Who thinks he can buy affection."
"There's only a certain type of affection for sale, and that is the kind I wanted to avoid." His jaw was set, but his eyes, how tenderness lived there and regret as black as midnight.
"What of Violet Bradford?" he demanded. "Do you think I'd rather have one such as her? She caught up to me in Mistress Briers' stable to make an indecent offer. Nay, I don't want a shallow woman, no matter how young and beautiful, to look at me and see only their betterment."
" 'Tis what you gave me in exchange for other services." Let him try to be rational, to explain, to regret she had learned the truth. She walked around him, fisting her hands, trembling and torn between wanting to rail at him and wanting to leave. "You took me into your bed, Jonah. When all you wanted was a nurse."
"Nay, I won't let you do this. I made love with you in this bed and I'll not erase what happiness we've found here. I gave you what heart I have, and 'tis far more than I have given any woman."
"New clothes, a servant, a fine house to live in-"
"Nay." Rich as midnight that voice, as inviting as dreams. He stood behind her but did not touch her, though his presence burned like an ember, smoldering first, then licking hotter.
Still, her heart remained numb, as if a physical injury had left her unable to feel. Shock, 'twas all. And then, in time would come the pain. "Do you deny it?"
"Deny what? Wanting you the way a man wants a woman? You know I did before I proposed to you."