Matt’s first reaction was to denounce their speculation as nonsense. But what if it wasn’t?
One of the few bits he’d learned about animal husbandry over his months at Mayfield was that breeders took great care in matching their males and females. However, those rules were about sheep, horses, and dogs.
Not people.
In fact, a good number of the women at the breakfast were as petite as Willa. Of course, none of their husbands were Matt’s size.
He’d looked around for Alice, the scientific one, and found her deep in conversation with Kate. No, he wasn’t going there.
Instead, he hunted for his wife. She’d been sitting on a chair in what seemed to be the one quiet corner of the house. She’d acted more than ready to leave.
Now they said their last good-byes as if embarking on a great trip and not just driving a few blocks to his house to consummate their union. Kate and Alice offered their well wishes; Kate with a decided lack of sincerity. He noticed that Willa’s earlier warmth toward his outspoken sister had given away to a reserve. She saved her smile for Alice.
Minerva waved them on and returned to her friends. No one knew where Leland Reverly was, and his wife barely looked up from the card game she had started.
There were true well-wishers such as George and Cassandra and Soren. Matt chose to focus on them.
However, he was grateful once the coach door had closed.
He looked to Willa. “I’m glad that is over.”
She studied some point out the window and nodded. The coach rolled forward. He found himself watching her, fascinated by her skin. The late afternoon sun highlighted its clarity.
His wife. He was not displeased. She still wore the virginal lace and net veil.
He removed his glove and reached out to run the backs of his fingers against her cheek.
Willa jumped at the contact. She looked to his hand and then at him. For once, he could read her thoughts in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said.
“I was startled. That is all.” Her lashes lowered as she moved her study to her hands in her lap. “I’m tired. The day has been exhausting.”
Matt could agree, except he was far from tired. All his senses were tuned to her.
Willa was a study in contrasts. She could be bold and then remarkably shy, submissive even. That was interesting because his experience had been that women, like men, were either one way or the other. They either forged ahead or held back. Willa could be a chameleon, unless one looked deeper.
He shifted in his seat, and again she jumped slightly—only this time, he sensed a hint of what she was thinking: his lady was angry.
Furious even.
That was why he couldn’t decipher the expression in her eyes, because what man would expect an angry wife on his wedding day? Of all of life’s days, this should be the one when the female was happiest.
“You are upset?” he said.
“Just tired,” she answered.
He didn’t believe her. “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked.
Willa looked at him wildly as if he’d spouted gibberish... or read her mind. “Of course not.”
She was lying.
He let silence spool between them.
“Why would you even think such a thing?” she threw out. A shiver of distaste went through her as if the fault was his.
“Well,” Matt said, “your whole attitude tells me you would rather be anywhere but right here.”
She scrunched her nose. She’d never done that around him before. He liked it because he sensed it was something she tried not to do, and yet, it was charming. A personal quirk. She then brushed at an imaginary piece of lint on her skirt before saying, “We aren’t a love match.”
