can’t start thinking she’s smarter than us. We have to be careful, Elijah. We can’t fall too deep for her. There are going to be times when we need to discipline her harshly, and if you fall for her wicked smile, you’ll have a hard time with it.”
“I know,” I answer firmly. He talks to me like I’m much younger than him. He’s only a year older, and barely even that.
Mark’s gaze moves into the distance, where Mama and Grandma live now.
“We have to protect her from herself, Elijah. I don’t want to send her off back there.” He juts his chin toward the graves at the far corner of the property, where the tree line meets the homestead.
I was only thirteen when Mama went to live beside Grandma. I didn’t understand much at the time, but I do now. Papa made sure we understood. He had no choice. Mama had given up on making our family peaceful and loving. She listened to her wicked heart too much. She betrayed us. She tried to leave.
“Nicolette will never do that,” I say, deepening my voice. She won’t. Nicolette loves us and does her best to make us all happy.
“She’s a woman,” he says, like my confidence in her is the most absurd thing he’s heard. “She can and will betray us if we don’t keep a firm grip on her. It’s not her fault she’s not capable of having strong morals like us. You heard Papa’s lessons. She’s weak—it’s our job to protect her.” He turns his attention back to Nicolette, still pacing. “Don’t go too easy on her.”
I set my jaw firm and take a breath before I respond. Getting into an argument with him will only work to divide us, and he’s right—we need to be unified in how we deal with Nicolette. She’s to be our wife, and as such, we both need to teach and lead her. Together.
“I’ll handle her,” I assure him. “Afterward, I’ll help you with the chicken coop.”
He picks his toolbox back up and gives me a satisfied nod. I wait until he walks off toward the coop before I make my way to Nicolette, my footsteps hurried and my breath catching in my throat. I can’t be soft on her with Mark so close.
“Nicolette,” I call out when I’m close enough.
“I’m so sorry, Elijah. I’m sorry” She rushes over to me, her hands twisting her dress.
I gesture with for her to calm down. “It’s all right. I know it was an accident.” I shift my weight to my right foot. “But you have to be careful. What if that had been Papa’s shirt?” Her face blanches. “Give me the shirt.” I put my hand out for it, and she drapes it over my open palm.
“I’m trying, Elijah. I want to be good for all of you. I’m trying,” she says with a bit of frustration. She’s always been more open with me, and I cherish the little moments when we can be candid.
“I know,” I say, because she is. Give credit when it’s due. It’s another of Papa’s rules, but I’m a bit more liberal with it than he is.
Tears shine in her eyes. “I don’t want the shed, Elijah. Please, not the shed.”
I shouldn’t allow her to beg me like this. It’s against Papa’s rules. She’s earned a lesson, and if that means she spends time in the shed, she’s supposed to accept the lesson with gratitude, not complaint.
“You dropped my shirt, Nicolette.” I try to smile. “You didn’t ruin it. Not shed worthy,” I assure her. “But you still need to learn more respect.” I hang the shirt on a nail sticking out of the frame of the shed. “Go on and take off your dress.”
With the threat of the shed gone, she moves into action without hesitation. She unties the bow at her neck and works the buttons down the front of her dress until she’s able to shimmy the cotton material over her hips. I motion to the empty nail next to my shirt, and she hangs her dress on it.
When she turns back to me, I have to swallow a moan of pleasure. Her nipples have pebbled thanks to the chill in the air, or maybe excitement it’s me dealing with her. She’s softer toward me than Mark. It’s because she loves me a little more than him. That’s against Papa’s rules too. No favorites. But I don’t comment on it. Truth be told, I love her more