“It does . . . Yet I hardly know you, Mr. Harris.” Miss Taylor twisted her hands together. “I’d at least had correspondence with your brother.”
“I understand,” he said. “Let me set your mind at ease. My middle name is Robert. My mother is called Matilda, and she lives in Denver with her sister, my Aunt Peggy. Lucas was my only sibling. I never knew my father—he passed on when I was a babe. I enjoy fishing and working with wood. To be honest, I’m looking forward to the work involved in finishing these buildings. My only vice is a game of cards now and then. I dislike cigars and turnips. And although I’ve never been to the opera, I suspect it would bore me.”
Miss Taylor was smiling. “I don’t much care for the opera either. I’d prefer to be outside than stuffed into a flouncy dress and made to go sit in a gilded theater for hours.”
“Then I believe we’ll get along very well.” He paused and lowered his voice, knowing he had to address something else that was surely on her mind. “And if you’re worried about other aspects of marriage, please know I’m patient. I won’t push you into anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
Her cheeks tinged pink, and she looked away. Cade kept silent, giving her time to consider. Finally, she drew her eyes back to him and nodded. “All right. I accept.”
Cade thought he’d never heard such glorious words. He grinned at her and reached for her hand. “Then I believe we ought to go to town. We can visit the minister and purchase some supplies while we’re there.”
Miss Taylor rewarded him with a sweet smile.
She doused the fire while he prepared the horses. The ride into Crest Stone wasn’t terribly long on a cool morning, and they kept the conversation light as they rode, discussing the scenery, the various sorts of animals that called this valley home, and the sorts of items they needed to purchase in town. And thankfully, she didn’t once mention Lucas.
While Miss Taylor went to return her borrowed horse to the livery, Cade saw to the minister and retrieved her trunk from the depot. Reverend Canton’s wife was kind enough to let them both prepare in her home, and when Miss Taylor emerged in the church dressed in pale yellow with her hair swooped up and falling in tendrils that framed her face, he found it hard to breathe.
“Mr. Harris?” Reverend Canton prompted. “Would you come take Miss Taylor’s hands?”
Cade swallowed and did as he was asked. Miss Taylor’s hands felt so small in his, and the weight of the responsibility he’d agreed to take on was sobering.
Reverend Canton read through the words of the short ceremony, asking them to repeat the vows of marriage to one another as Mrs. Canton and another older woman who’d been cleaning the church looked on as witnesses.
Miss Taylor’s wide blue eyes held his, and it was all Cade could do to remain focused on the reverend’s words. Before he knew it, Reverend Canton leaned toward him, and in a kind voice, said, “You may kiss your bride.”
It was both the most wonderful and the most terrifying sentence Cade had ever heard. With all eyes on them, he bent down and placed a chaste kiss on his new bride’s soft lips as her eyes fluttered shut.
She gave a slight gasp, and Cade’s heart struck a fast rhythm. He hardly dared hope that meant she saw him as more than just a convenient solution.
He stepped back and beamed at her as the minister pronounced them man and wife. She returned his smile without a trace of worry, and Cade knew—without a doubt—that he’d done the right thing.
“I suppose we ought to see to more mundane matters now,” he said after they emerged from the church. “I can inquire about purchasing a wagon if you’d like to visit the general store.”
She nodded, and he took her arm as they walked along the board sidewalk. Cade felt as if he’d been reborn somehow. The sun was brighter, the air more crisp, and the mountain scenery beyond the buildings was even more beautiful with the woman on his arm.
He felt her look up at him now and again as they made the short walk across and down the road to the general store. When they arrived, he turned to face her. “It shouldn’t take long to get the wagon, provided they have one available. I’ll fetch your trunk from the Cantons’ and meet you back here, Miss— I mean . . .” It would be ridiculous to call her Mrs. Harris.
“Of course you may call me Jolie,” she said with a soft smile.
“Jolie,” he repeated. He liked the way her name felt to say aloud. “It’s a beautiful name. I can’t say I’ve heard it before.”
“It’s French,” she replied. “It means . . . well,pretty.” Her face went red, as if she thought she were bragging.
“In that case, it’s also a most appropriate name.”
The flush deepened on her cheeks. “Your name is quite different too. How did your parents decide upon Cade?”
“It’s my mother’s maiden name. My father chose Lucas after his father, and so my mother chose Cade for me.”
She smiled then, as if the story behind his name pleased her, and Cade took the opportunity to admire her again. How had he gotten so lucky? In a way, he felt badly, as if he were profiting off his own brother’s death. But if something had to come from the sorrow of losing Lucas, he was glad to have found it.
“Pardon me, are you going into the store?”
Cade startled, and so did Jolie, as if she were just as lost in thought as he’d been. “I’m sorry,” he said to the waiting lady, leading Jolie out of the way of the door. As soon as the door closed behind her, he turned his attention back to his bride. “I’ll return as soon as I have the wagon.”
“All right. I’ll ensure we have enough in the way of provisions.”
Reluctantly, he let go of her hand. He turned away and began walking toward the livery, glancing behind him after a few seconds had passed. Jolie held the door open, but had paused to look back at him too.
