Page 55 of A Rugged Beauty
Facing Abigail made Hollis’s insides knot.
Owen started reading from the page Hollis had marked. Hollis had said the words enough times that they flowed over him like water.
He tried to ignore the way Abigail watched him, her expression grave, eyes big in her face. Tried to recall Dinah and the speaking of their own vows, tried to pull her into this moment, overlay Abigail's face with Dinah's.
But his past was fuzzy and vague and when he blinked, Abigail filled his vision.
She was the one sharing this moment with him, the one whose fingers trembled in his when Owen made them clasp hands. Or maybe that was him shaking.
Was this a mistake? Was he making everything worse?
Her grip steadied him, gave an anchor when he felt as if a stiff breeze would be able to knock him over.
She spoke her vows in a clear voice, her eyes shining with promise.
That wasn't what they'd agreed to, a voice inside him shouted. This was a farce! It wasn't real! But when it was time for him to speak his own vows, the words were full of an unexpected gravity.
He wrestled with his feelings, forcing the twisting thing inside him to agree that this was all to protect Abigail. He'd keep her close, physically, just to make sure the gossip didn't touch her, and he could deliver her safely to Joseph.
Hollis would keep the walls in his heart sturdy and secure. He wouldn't share himself with her the way he had while they'd been lost to the wilderness. He couldn’t afford to care.
"You'd better kiss her to make it official," Owen muttered.
Hollis's heart jerked in his chest. He hadn't thought of this complication.
Then Abigail reached up on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her hand was a brand as it touched his cheek and then was gone.
"I'll fetch you before I meet with the men." Was that his voice, the gravel-filled grunt?
"I'll be ready."
"I'll be ready."Abigail had said the words, but she didn't feel ready when Hollis returned to find her a scant handful of minutes later. She was shaken. In disbelief.
She’d married Hollis.
But it wasn’t an occasion for celebration. It was grief that filled her. Grief over a loveless marriage.
He didn’t speak to her, only offered his arm in silence. She took it, aware of the strength in his muscled forearm beneath her fingertips, the brush of her shoulder against his biceps.
I take thee, Abigail, to be my wedded wife.
She'd seen the pure panic in Hollis’s eyes, everything else in his expression frozen as he'd repeated the words Owen prompted. He didn't want this marriage. She'd known it from the way he'd offered to marry her.
But she'd also spoken true. He needed a friend. Needed a helpmeet. And she could be that for him. Even if it wouldn't last past the end of their journey.
I take thee, Hollis, to be my wedded husband.
She'd meant the vows she'd spoken before Hollis and Owen and the Lord. She couldn't say when it had happened—though definitely before they'd been lost to the raging river—but she'd begun to care deeply for Hollis, for the man who held himself apart. Who cared for every single person, no matter how big orhow small, on this wagon train. Who pushed himself harder than anyone else.
But she had no expectation that he'd ever return her feelings. She would never forget the expression on his face when he'd told her he'd lost his wife.
Hollis was a man who loved deeply. No doubt his wife had been someone terribly special. Someone he'd chosen, not been forced to marry.
Abigail would never compare to her. She didn't dare try.
But she could still help him.
As they passed through the camp, she caught curious, wide-eyed gazes from several of the women corralling children and preparing supper.
