A Bride in the Bargain Part 38

He wanted to know how long she'd had her cough.

She asked about the securing of his land.

He asked if she liked the fabrics he'd bought her.

Averting her eyes, she pulled on a tendril of hair. "Very much."

"Have you made anything with them?"

She tossed a piece of crust to one of the ducks waddling along the sh.o.r.eline. "What exactly was it you wanted me to make?"

A wedding gown. But he couldn't say that. Too late, he realized a declaration of that sort might scare her off. He loved her and he suspected she loved him, but it was their first Sunday drive. A little patience was in order.

"I figured you could use a new petticoat, I guess. Among other things."

"It was terribly improper," she whispered. "Giving me fabric for those kinds of things. We shouldn't even be discussing it."

He suppressed a smile, though her whispering amused him. The only thing close enough to overhear was the duck, and their conversation wouldn't upset its sensibilities.

"You're probably right," he said. "But will you make something just the same?"

She raised her gaze to his. "Yes."

The look in her eyes took his breath away and he could no more stop himself than he could stop the sun from setting. Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her up against him and lowered his mouth to hers.

She offered no resistance, accepting him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it was.

The kiss began softly, slowly, then built. He splayed his hands along her back in an effort to touch as much of her as he could. But it wasn't enough. Wasn't near enough.

She encircled his neck with her arms. He skated his palms to her sides, sliding them from the curve of her waist up to her raised elbows, then down again.

A tiny moan from the back of her throat tripled his craving. He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing her jaw, her eyes, her ears, her neck.

Tightening her hold, she pressed herself against him so hard he felt sure the b.u.t.tons marching down her dress would leave imprints on his chest.

Marry me. When could he ask her? How much longer must he wait?

He wrapped his arms completely around her, holding her. Hugging her. Rocking her.

When she began to have difficulty breathing, he reluctantly loosened his hold. Still, she couldn't catch her breath.

He frowned. "Are you all right?"

She tapped her chest. "It hurts."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "Mine too."

"No," she gasped. "I mean it hurts."

He reared back. "Anna?"

Her face filled with panic. She sucked for air, but only made thin, rasping sounds.

"Anna?" His heart began to pound. "What is it? What's happening?"

Her chest heaved as it struggled for breath. He had no idea what to do. Jumping to his feet, he pulled her up. Maybe standing would make it easier.

She squeezed her eyes shut. He placed her hands on his shoulders for support and she gripped him like a vise.

"Breathe," he whispered, bracketing her waist with his hands. "Come on, love. Breathe."

Her knees weakened. She wasn't turning blue, but he could see she was struggling. A few moments later, her grip loosened, her shoulders relaxed, her breathing grew deeper.

He found his own breath keeping time with hers. When all was normal, he smoothed the hair from her face. "What happened?"

"I don't know. All of a sudden, I couldn't breathe."

He blew out a puff of air. "Well, I've heard of a kiss taking a person's breath away, but I thought it was just a saying."

Her chuckle turned into a cough.

He pulled her against him, careful to keep his embrace loose. "Anna, something isn't right. Has that ever happened to you before?"

"Never."

He tipped her head up with his hand. "Well, you're going to have to find out what it is, because if that's what's going to happen every time I kiss you, then we have a problem."

Smiling, she slid her eyes closed. "I'm sure it's nothing. I must be coming down with something is all."

Joe wasn't so sure, but he decided not to press her. He'd find the doc before he left town and ask him.

Scooping her into his arms, he headed toward the buggy. "Well, it's time to go anyway. You rest while I get our things."

"I can help, Joe. I'm fine now."

"No. You took ten years off my life. You're going to sit in that carriage and rest."

She outlined his ear with her finger, causing him to miss a step.

"At least I didn't wrestle with a tree and lose," she murmured.

He scowled. "I didn't lose. If I'd lost, I'd be dead." He deposited her into the seat of the buggy. "Stay put. This will only take me a minute."

Scrunching up the blanket, his concern escalated. He'd already lost one wife. He wasn't about to lose Anna, too.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

"She was coughing throughout the day, then all of a sudden she couldn't breathe." Joe strode up First Avenue, the doc by his side. Between its being Sunday and the supper hour, the streets were all but deserted.

"Every time she tried, she gasped and hiccupped."

Maynard frowned. "Do you know if it happens to her often?"

"Never. She said it had never happened before. It gave her quite a scare, too."

"How long did it last?"

"Seemed like forever, but I think it was actually only about a minute, no more than two."

"Perhaps something brought it on. What was she doing just before it started?"

Joe groped for an answer. "Um, nothing. She wasn't doing anything."

Doc gave him a sharp look. "Nothing? Nothing at all?"

Joe swallowed. Maynard stopped, grabbing Joe's arm. The doctor wouldn't stand a chance in any physical confrontation between the two of them, but he garnered a great deal of respect in the community and in Joe's sight as well. So Joe allowed the rough handling.

"What was she doing?" Maynard repeated.

"Nothing that should have brought that on."

The men studied each other. Music and a burst of raucous laughter from McDonald's Saloon two blocks down reached their ears. The longer they stood in silence, the more strained it became.

Maynard's expression hardened. "Was she struggling?"

Had it been anyone else, Joe would have flattened him. "I cannot believe you have to ask."

"It's my job to ask."

Debatable, but Joe let it pa.s.s. "She was not."

"How far had it gone?"

The anger percolating just below the surface came perilously close to spilling over. Fisting his hands, Joe kept his voice low and even. "It went nowhere at all. We are through with this topic."

Whirling around, Joe strode up the street. He'd told the doc about Anna's ailment. That's all the man needed to know.

September turned into October, bringing with it nature's display of oranges, reds, and yellows on an evergreen backdrop. Descending the steps of the Occidental, Anna headed toward Doc Maynard's home.

A gust of wind lifted yellow maple leaves from the ground and swirled them at her feet. Tightening the cape across her shoulders, she skirted a puddle, though moisture from the morning rains still dampened the toes of her boots and the hem of her skirt. But nothing could dampen her spirits.

Joe was going to propose to her tonight. She was certain of it. He'd courted her steadily each and every weekend for the past six weeks. In the entire time, he never failed to come to town, and as a result, the local men had ceased to shadow her every move.

Then last week, after a particularly potent kiss, he had told her to take extra care with her toilette for tonight's supper, but wouldn't say any more. She wished she could wear a brand-new dress for whatever it was he had planned, but she simply didn't have enough coin.

With the money she'd earned, she'd tried to pay him back. He wouldn't hear of it. Became downright angry over it.

So she'd backed down and instead purchased wool for two outfits, wearing them alternately. Her cape, meanwhile, needed to be read its last rites. It offered little to no protection from the encroaching cold.

At least she was no longer making house calls. After that first week as an a.s.sistant, the doc decided he no longer wanted her to accompany him on the road. Instead, Anna stayed in his surgery room. Cleaning, organizing, and taking his messages when he wasn't there, a.s.sisting with his surgeries when he was.

Though she missed the spontaneity of going from house to house, she didn't miss traveling about in wet weather. Especially not with her cough and headaches.

As she turned onto Cherry Street, a light mist began to fall. She draped the cape up over her head, tossing one end over her shoulder. Today was Sat.u.r.day, which meant she only worked in the morning, and Joe would be in town by the afternoon. Her excitement over his impending proposal resurfaced. She couldn't wait for him to ask her and couldn't wait to tell him yes.

Opening the gate in front of the Maynards' home, she walked through, then headed toward the side entrance. Raindrops had just begun to fall when she slipped inside.

Hanging her cape on a hall tree, she knocked on the surgery room door.

"Come in."

The smell of soap, chloroform, and carbolic acid overpowered Anna. Her headache pounded. "Good morning. I didn't expect to see you yet."

"No?" The doc sat with his back to her at a large oak desk, flipping through a giant volume whose t.i.tle was obscured. "And why is that?"

"Because you're hardly ever here on Sat.u.r.day mornings."

"I wanted to talk with you." Arriving at the page he was looking for, he skimmed it with his finger, then took a few moments to read.

Anna washed her hands, then opened his medical bag and began to take inventory of its contents. He was low on bandages, arnica, and mutton tallow. She turned to retrieve replacements from a cupboard, then paused. Doc had swiveled his wooden chair around and leaned back to watch her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I need to talk to you."

She frowned. Had he gone on a call last night? Had someone had a terrible accident? Or worse, died?

Taking advantage of the chair's rollers, he propelled himself to a corner, s.n.a.t.c.hed up a stool, then brought it back. "Please. Have a seat."

She sunk down. "What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened."

She took a deep breath of relief, triggering a faint rattling noise in her chest. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry." Pursing his lips, he propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and threaded his fingers across his stomach. "I want to talk about your cough."

"Again? But you just gave me another exam a few days ago. I thought everything was fine."

"I never said that. As a matter of fact, I didn't say anything at all because I didn't want to alarm you."