They lapsed into silence again, but it was more comfortable now, less weighted with resentment. Clara found herself stealing glances at him in the dim light. He was handsome in a rough hewn way with strong features and capable hands. Under different circumstances she might have no she couldn't think like that. This was a business arrangement, nothing more.
The fact that her heart had raced when he'd been close to her in the study meant nothing. She was simply lonely, responding to the first bit of kindness he'd shown her. Thank you, Ethan said suddenly. For what you did with Morrison, for helping Sophie today, for not giving up even though I've been, he trailed off. Difficult, stubborn, occasionally insufferable.
A smile ghosted across his lips. I was going to say unwelcoming. That too. I know this isn't what you wanted, Clara. This life, this marriage, but I want you to know.
I'll try to make it bearable. I can't offer you love or affection, but I can offer you respect. Partnership. It was more than she'd expected, though less than that treacherous part of her heart wanted. Partnership, she agreed.
That's enough. But as she lay in her narrow bed that night, listening to the old house settle around her, she wondered if it would be enough. She could already feel the walls around her heart beginning to crack, letting in dangerous feelings for a man who would never love her. She thought of the way he'd looked at her in the study. That moment of connection and ruthlessly pushed the memory away.
This was a business arrangement. She needed to remember that her heart had no place in this marriage, no matter how much it might want to claim otherwise. She'd survived heartbreak before, though that seemed pale and childish now, compared to the complex pain of living with someone who tolerating her presence for necessity's sake. Down the hall, she heard Ethan's footsteps pacing his room. Was he thinking of Margaret missing her warmth beside him?
Or was he perhaps thinking of that moment in the study, too? That unexpected spark of something? She turned over, burying her face in the pillow. Tomorrow they would go to Denver, try to save the ranch. Tomorrow they would continue this dance of polite partnership.
Tomorrow she would be stronger, would rebuild the walls around her heart. But tonight, in the darkness of her small room, she allowed herself to imagine what it might be like if things were different. If she'd met Ethan before Margaret. If they'd chosen each other instead of being forced together. If Sophie could learn to love her not as a replacement, but as herself.
If the word wife could mean something more than a legal designation, dangerous thoughts, foolish thoughts. But in the darkness, with no one to see or judge, she held them close like precious secrets. These dreams of what could never be. The journey to Denver began before dawn, the sky still holding on to night's last stars. Clara had packed carefully, her traveling dress a practical dark blue wool that wouldn't show the dust of the road.
She'd braided her hair tightly, pinning it in a coronet that would withstand the wind. When she emerged from her room, she found Ethan already waiting by the wagon, checking the horse's harnesses one final time. "You could have woken me earlier to help," she said, climbing up onto the seat without waiting for his assistance. "Didn't want to disturb you." He swung up beside her, taking the reins. "It's a long journey.