"You take pride in that, I see." How good he made her feel inside, in her heart that had been lonely for love. "You married me because my grandfather thought I was compromised."
"I didn't have to marry you." His eyes darkened, and some of the teasing ebbed from his eyes, like sunlight behind leaden clouds. "Your grandfather still wanted you to marry Horace Walling. I had to pay both men handsomely to convince them otherwise."
"Usually the bride brings something to the marriage."
"I do not want a dowry, Tessa. You're prize enough."
He valued her that much. She felt her throat fill and stared hard at her mittened hands. Tears burned beneath her eyes, tears of such great happiness. Who had thought all those years horrible Jonah Hunter had teased her in dame school, then ignored her as they both grew to adulthood, he had harbored these feelings so strong, he had married her, wanted her above all others. He valued her, thought her a prize.
No one, not even her beloved mother, had said those words, made her feel so special. The warmth in her chest grew, expanding beneath her ribs so that it burned in the hollow of her throat, beneath the spot where her collarbones met and her pulse beat fast and fluttery.
"You've done so much for Father." He took her hand in his and only then did she realize they were at the river.
Villagers crowded the wooden dock, faint sunlight glinted on dark water, and a ship with three furled sails waited patiently for the next breath of wind.
"Come, let's see if there is a servant here who will suit you."
The din of the crowd nearly silenced as Jonah lifted her from the wagon. She could have climbed down herself, but she didn't want to miss any opportunity to feel his touch, even here in a public place where so many eyes watched and wondered.
"It seems to me we ought to look at the fabric, too." He took her hand, and his touch never left her as he led her through the staring crowd.
So many of the people she knew and many she'd tended when they were ill stood gaping at her. Or turned to whisper to one another-the Sandersons who had lost their aged aunt early this winter, the Carpenters, whose daughter nearly died when the strange fever had swept through the village last year, and more, so many more.
"Major Hunter, welcome home to Baybrooke." The innkeeper, Bernard Sawyer, extended his hand.
"Bernard, 'tis been a long while. Still serving that swill you call ale?"
"Aye, that I am." The ruddy-faced man tipped his hat to her. "Congratulations, Mistress Hunter, on your recent wedding."
"Thank you." Strange it was, to be greeted as Jonah's bride. And yet she was proud to stand beside so handsome a man, who treated others with respect. Some people in the village believed themselves to be finer than others because they had more money and wore better clothes, but not Jonah.
"Look, the captain has spread out his yard goods on that board table." Jonah, taller than she was, could see more easily through the crowd. "Now, no protests allowed. I want to see my wife in something other than dreary colors. Go ahead, pick out what you like. I'll go see what kind of servants are aboard ship."
Jonah squeezed her hand before he left. Her heart thudding, she watched him weave through the milling crowd, his gait steady and determined, his shoulders broad, especially when compared to so many other men's. Today his dark hair was swept back and tied at his nape, and an unruly shock tumbled over his brow. She saw him in profile speaking to the ship's captain.
"He doesn't love you, you know."
"Violet." Tessa spun around. She'd been so intent on watching Jonah she hadn't noticed anything else.
"Everyone is saying it. He would have married me if you hadn't tricked him." Violet's mouth twisted into an ugly sneer that seemed to drain all the natural beauty from her face. "I was the one he came to see after morning meeting that Sunday. Me. Not a sour-faced old maid who had to act like a harlot to snare a man's last name."
"She's right." Charity sauntered up behind her daughter, mouth pursed, eyes hard. "You ought to be ashamed to show your face among decent people. I have had Ely speak with the selectmen of the village. While you were working your wiles on poor Major Hunter, you were breaking curfew. Not to mention acting lasciviously. There are penalties for that."
Tessa clamped her mouth shut. Horrible, unspeakable words burned on her tongue. Her hands fisted into tight balls of anger. She had endured Charity's cruel tongue and mean spirit for far too many years, and she would not do so any longer. She itched to speak her peace, for once, without the threat of being kicked out into the street, but she could not. She would not embarrass Jonah that way, or herself, by losing her temper.
"Excuse me, Charity."
"You're not going anywhere until I've had my say." The woman darted around her daughter, face set, marching like a soldier to the front line. "You have been the bane of my existence for the last ten years. You shoved your way into my house with that weak mother of yours-"
"Don't say one word against my mother," Tessa hissed, careful to keep her voice low. "You have no right, you who have not lifted a hand to perform a single domestic task for most of those ten years. I chopped the wood and I made the meals and I did the laundry and I made soap and candles and thread for the weaving. So not one word, Charity."
"You are likely to be no better than your silly mother, a foolish weak-willed simpleton who could not see the man she married had a use for her. Not love, a use for her."
" 'Tis enough, Mistress Bradford." Low that voice, rumbling like thunder over a valley, sure and strong and laced with warning. "I could hear your accusations all the way to the water's edge. And I assure you, I never set my sights on your shallow daughter. I married Tessa by choice. Anyone who says differently will answer to me."
Charity shrank at Jonah's quiet, controlled anger. The crowd silenced, all eyes turning toward them, waiting for what was to come next. Violet's face puckered into tears.
Tessa stepped forward. "Jonah, 'tis all right. Vicious words cannot do much harm."
"You're wrong, but I will not argue." He took her hand, his touch reassuring.
Her heart soared, and the warmth in her chest deepened. Her affection for Jonah grew steadily brighter with each breath and with every beat of her heart.
Chapter Eleven
"Andy, do not stare at Anya." Tessa halted behind Andy's chair at the table and whispered low, so the slender young woman heating wash water at the hearth could not hear. "She is uncertain enough about a new situation, so it would be best for her not to have a man drooling from his chin every time she walks by."
"I do not drool!" Andy snapped his jaw shut, teeth clacking.
Jonah could see more denial on his brother's face, but the young man held it back, still afraid enough of Tessa. "Andy, I saw a drop drip off your chin. My advice is to swallow now and then."
"Aye, 'tis advice you should heed." Thomas struggled not to laugh as he stood from the table. "Tessa, is Father awake?"
"I just left him and he's sleeping. Fitfully. Mayhap he would rest easier with one of his sons at his side." Her gaze landed on Jonah.
He felt the uncomfortable accusation. "I will go, Thomas. Stay and keep an eye on Andy." He lowered his voice. "I would hate to have that poor girl slip in a puddle of drool."
"Jonah, 'tis not funny. I have not teased you about drooling after your wife." Andy stood, hands balled tight.
He laughed. "Aye, we can drool together. Sit down and ask her for a cup of tea."
"I had best act as chaperone," Thomas observed quietly. "Tessa, you could have chosen an ugly old woman. There would be less complications."
"She was the one I liked." Tessa smiled at Thomas as she swept on by, a beautiful smile that Jonah suspected until now, only he had seen.
Jonah watched surprise mark Thomas' face. One dark brow quirked. His Tessa was beautiful. Fatigue bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes, but the years of hardship and strain had vanished, replaced by a beauty that was more than skin deep.