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exceptionally quiet, darting furtive glances at Angel. Nate plopped Julia-Rose on Matt’s lap, and climbed on the seat next to Angel. With a flick of the reins, they started for home.
    Angel had fallen asleep, her chin resting on her chest. Even in sleep she looked tired and worn. Thankfully, the ride to his house wasn’t long, since she’d likely topple into the dirt. A soft rain fell before they reached home, plastering curls to her head and face. Dark smudges lined the delicate skin under her eyes. Not even the water running down her nose and dripping in rhythm on her chest woke her up.
    Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the swell of her breasts, or the outline of her legs where the wet dress laid against them. Tarnation, the girl looks worn to death, and you’re thinking about her body parts. No wonder you have all these damn kids.
    Nate pulled up in front of the white clapboard house. Flower pots that Amy used to keep full of seasonal flowers stood empty. Before they left, he’d swept the scattering of toys away from the door into a pile on the porch. The vegetable garden on the side of the house, where he brought the wagon in, was overgrown with weeds. Haphazardly pinned wash, now wet again, dropped fat circles of water, creating muck. He was in desperate need of help.
    The boys ran to the house, Matt jiggling Julia-Rose. Four sets of muddy shoes tramped through the front door. Nate turned to his new bride, and gently tapped her shoulder. “Angel?” No answer. He tried again. When she still didn’t stir, he jumped down, walked around the front of the wagon and slid his arms under her. He carried her into the house and grimaced at all the work still left for him to do. No help from his new wife tonight. Ah well, it was apparent she needed rest from her trip.
    “Mark, run upstairs and turn down the covers on the bed in my room, please. Matt, re-heat that soup we had earlier, and dish some up for you and your brothers. I’ll be back in a bit.”
    “What about Julia-Rose, Papa?” Matt held the sleeping child in his arms.
    “Just lay her in her crib for now.” He climbed the stairs cradling his wet, softly snoring wife in his arms.
    He set her on her feet, and she slumped against him. “Angel?”
    “Um.”
    “You have to get your wet clothes off.”
    “Um.”
    “Just stand up and I’ll help you.”
    She opened one eye and yawned. “Tired.”
    “I know you’re tired. Let me help you.” He pushed her away and held her up with one hand as he wrestled her clothing off with the other.
    Gertrude had found a different dress from Angel’s trunk to wear for the wedding. Although at least clean, the light blue silk was a wrinkled mess from traveling in the trunk, and soaking wet from the rain. She stood, swaying, while he unbuttoned the dress and pushed it to the floor. The beat-up hat came next; he tossed it on the dresser.
    He swallowed and stared at her corset. It looked so damned uncomfortable. Why the hell did women wear those things anyway? He leaned her against his chest and quickly unlaced the back. Although she’d fallen asleep again, she took a huge breath when he pulled it off. Her petticoat and chemise were mostly dry, so he left them on.
    He scooped her up again and placed her on the bed. After unfastening and removing her shoes and stockings, he pulled the blanket over her and stepped back. Now that she wasn’t crying, throwing up, or staring at the floor, he studied her. She was a pretty girl, even with her tangled, wet hair and haggard look.
    After her face had been washed, perfectly shaped eyebrows had emerged that matched her deep brown hair. He had no recollection of her eye color, but her lips were full, with a tiny mole at the edge. Dark eyelashes rested on porcelain white skin, with patches of pink on her cheeks. Across her slightly turned up nose was a sprinkling of freckles.
    His gaze tracked down her body. As he had noted before, she was certainly curved in all the right