“Most nights I come in too tired to fix anything else. Lizzy brings over a good meal every Monday when she comes to do the laundry and clean.” He watched Aggie closely. “I pay her twice a year in beef. If it’s all right with you I’d like her to still come. They depend on the meat.”
Aggie nodded, but Hank wasn’t sure she really listened. She worried over the cut.
“You’re lucky this isn’t showing signs of infection.” She poked at the skin around his cut. “I think if we wrap it correctly the wound will stay closed, but I’ll want to clean it and put medicine on it twice a day.”
“It’ll be all right.” He shrugged, thinking he’d had far worse cuts.
She let out a huff of impatience and worry. “I’ll clean this twice a day if I have to tie you to the chair.”
Hank smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I had no idea I was marrying such a bossy wife.”
She raised her gaze to his and wrinkled her forehead. “I never thought I would be, but it seems so. You’ll just have to put up with it, I’m afraid.”
Loving the way she’d lost any fear of him, Hank put his hand at her waist, steadying his arm as she bandaged his wound. His gun belt was missing from around her hips and he wondered if she simply removed it while she slept, or if she felt safe enough with him not to bother with even the pretense of the Colt.
“How are we doing?” He repeated the same question he’d asked on the train steps twenty-four hours ago. “Any complaints, so far?”
She worked silently, her nearness affecting him more than any poking she was doing. Taking a deep breath, he let the scent of her fill his lungs. He’d smelled perfumed women in the saloons, and a few proper ladies who bore the scent of starch and talcum, but Aggie was like neither. She reminded him of spring water just when the land turns green, all fresh and new.
When she didn’t answer, Hank waited, figuring out that something bothered her. If he were guessing, he could think of several things—he’d left her their first day, the storm, no furnishings in the house to speak of, no curtains on the windows, none of her family close.
“There is one thing,” she finally said as she tied off the bandage.
“What?” He wouldn’t have been surprised if she said she changed her mind and wanted to go back to Fort Worth. Maybe the banker or the hotheaded Potter Stockton weren’t looking so bad after she’d spent the day here alone. He remained still, his hand at her waist.
“When you left, you kissed me on the forehead.”
If she was waiting for him to say he was sorry for that, she’d wait a long time. Finally, he managed to mumble, “You’d rather I hadn’t been so informal?”
She shrugged. “No, actually, I was thinking that if you are going to kiss me good-bye, I’d rather you didn’t do it on the forehead. It makes me feel like a child. I may be over a foot shorter than you, but I’m not a child. I wish never to be treated as such again.”
Now he said, “I’m sorry,” and meant it. “That was not my intent.” He watched her closely, unsure where the conversation was going. “Where would you like me to kiss you when we part?” He thought of mentioning that couples do kiss one another politely when saying good-bye, but in truth he could never really remember seeing any husband do so except at the train station.
She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned slightly toward him. “The cheek would be all right, I guess, or even the lips would seem appropriate. After all, we are married.”
Hank had that feeling of walking on ice. One misstep and he’d disappear. He wondered if he’d ever be able to read this woman. She’d made it plain she wanted a partnership marriage and nothing more, and now she was telling him where to kiss her. It crossed his mind that if all women were as hard to read as Aggie, no wonder the saloons were packed with married men.
He dove into deep water. “Like this,” he whispered as he tugged her near and brushed his lips lightly along her cheek.
She leaned away, considering. “That would be acceptable, I think.” She smiled. “Your whiskers tickle.”
His arm slid around her waist once more but this time when he pulled her, she stumbled, landing