If someone had asked Cordelia what her wedding night would have looked like one year earlier, this certainly would have been the farthest thing from her mind. Cold feet were natural, she knew this as fair weather friends from Springfield had told her.

But to have them afterwards? When all was said and done? Alone in the rough hewn bed that Cap and his father had fashioned the day before their vows were said, she closed her eyes and tried to explain away her feelings.

Maybe it was the hackeyed way that the whole thing had played out.

The day after she had said yes to him in a blinding moment of impulsive desire, the men set about building a small room onto the ground floor for the newly wed couple. It was an addition onto the girls' room, one had to pass through that smaller bedroom to get to their new one. There wasn't a floor yet, but would be before the snow fell. The Hatfield men were good at woodworking and it could be easily accomplished in a day. No door either, that would come later as well. For now, Levicy had hung a quilt for privacy between the main house and the new room.

The Hatfield girls breathed evenly in sleep only a few feet away. The chill from the dirt floor rose up, saturating the straw tick beneath her. Silently, she waited, grinding her teeth and staring at the raw pine ceiling overhead.

Her wedding dress was a gown of Levicy's, one of her finer dresses in gray that had brought out her steel eyes. She had worn her ebony hair down in ringlets and the girls had woven pine boughs in a crowning braid around her head, red ribbons tying the ends. Carrying Levicy's small, white bridal Bible that was a family heirloom with a sprig of spruce, the Hatfield women had gushed over her. Even Levicy had tenderly brushed her hair over her shoulder and told her she looked the way a bride should.

She'd felt radiant. Even more so as Anse had led her out into the open yard towards the edge of the half frozen creek right outside. Judge Hatfield had presided over the ceremony with Johnse as best man, his own McCoy bride notably absent.

And then there was her bridegroom. An elated and wildly nervous smile had adorned his usually dour face, his bright hair combed back from his long face, mustache and light beard neatened up, his lanky form standing tall as he squared his shoulders at the sight of her. She was carefully helped over the small creek before coming to stand beside the man she'd soon call husband. She'd beamed up into his gentle smile and had forgotten everything else.

But then the dream was over.

Jim Vance chuckled at the proceedings as they ate at a long table outside afterwards. Johnse had brought tankards of moonshine and the guests drank it like water. Cordelia and Cap sat side by side, his hand occasionally coming to rest on her knee under the table though his eyes only sometimes nervously caught hers, her smile coming out forced. 

He drank. Then Jim Vance sat next to him and they both drank much more. Levicy scowled in their direction as Johnse came to join them, Cordelia left very much by herself, staring at a plate of venison and cornbread, her meager wedding supper.

This was nothing she would have imagined for herself. Certainly nothing her parents would have wanted. She felt sick even though she hadn't had a drop of the poisonous liquor her new brother-in-law had brought.

She'd excused herself, complaining of a headache. Cap had brushed the side of her face with his knuckles, asking if she needed anything. Drunk Jim Vance made a crude joke at her expense and Judge Hatfield growled at the stupid old man to shut up. She knew then that she hated Uncle Jim Vance, the disgusting pig of a relation to whom her new husband was attached at the hip.

The whole thing was wrong.

If she had married someone else, like Marshall Rogers, things would have been much different. She would have been married in a church in a proper gown. There would have been a fine dinner party then the two of them would have taken a carriage together to their new home, a house all to themselves. They would have set out the next morning on a honeymoon. Europe perhaps. She was an only child to a wealthy doctor, she could have had anything she wanted for the event.

Now all she had were pine needles in her hair and cold feet, both literally and figuratively. The wind picked up outside and she shivered in their incomplete honeymoon suite. The drunken hoots of the men echoed from the front and she tensed. She had a feeling that Cap was retiring for the night and his men were giving him a send off. Her face burned with horror at the thought of the disgusting jests being thrown in his direction.

All wrong. The situation was all wrong. But Cap Hatfield, was he wrong? She winced. It was too late for that question.

The floorboards in the girls' room squeaked under his heavy steps. She didn't speak as the quilt covering the doorway was swept back. The biting scent of moonshine wafted in the cold air and the bed groaned as he sat at the end to untie his boots. Still lying on her back, Cordelia dared a glance as he undressed. His tall body was lean, but hard with tethered muscle from working outside, skin gleaming pale in the moonlight from the single window. At least they had somehow gotten some glass to install in it. He stripped naked and she averted her eyes back to the ceiling, still seething despite her curiosity.

She didn't breathe as he got under the quilt next to her, leaving space between their bodies. He laid on his back and a moment passed.

"You smell like Christmas from those pine branches you had in your hair," he murmured softly, keeping his voice low as not to wake his sisters in the other room. "You've always smelled like Christmas. That perfume you used to wear-"

"It's called Florida Water." She cut him off, her whisper icicle sharp. "You smell like a distillery."

Despite the situation, he gave a muffled chuckle. "I'm sorry, darlin', you only get to celebrate your wedding once."

"Of course." She whipped over onto her side away from him. She could sense his confusion and anxiety through the sheets.

"Darlin', I'm awful sorry about tonight with the others out there. I know this probably isn't what you are used to," he spoke, rolling towards her and propping his head up on the heel of his hand. "But you knew who I was when you married me."

Cordelia shivered with cold, unsure of how to answer. He was right, she hadn't been ignorant walking into this thing. But he knew who she was as well. Couldn't he have tried to show her a little more respect? His hand rested on her hip over the blanket, then slipped down to the curve of her waist. The memory of their frenzied first kiss burst in her brain.

He was so close. She was only in her light shift, him in nothing. She forcibly reminded herself of her anger, squelching her arousal with irritation. How dare he think he could just walk in there and take her like some tavern whore?

She pulled away from his touch. "I'm tired."

He gave a sigh of frustration, but didn't try again. "Maybe it's for the best. I'm feelin' a little under the weather myself."

"Drunk, you mean."

He snorted. "Yes."

He returned to his back, the wind howling outside through the canyon and drowning out the gentle breathing in the next room. The drunken singing outside had ceased. It felt as though everyone in the world were sleeping except them and the winter wind. Cordelia knew there would be no sleeping for her, not with him so close to her. It was taking all her self control to stay mad at him.

"I know I can't give any excuses for tonight, Cordelia. You might think I only asked for your hand out of impulse. Maybe I did and maybe you said yes for the same reason. But I meant what I told you when your father died. I know you. We are made of the same stuff. As though we were... made to be together. I know it sounds stupid. I'm no good with words. But I'm still amazed that of all people to walk in front of my wagon and almost kill themselves, it was you."

Cordelia let out a breathy chuckle despite herself and Cap responded the same, relaxing into the tick next to her. She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm glad you didn't hit me with that wagon too."

"And I'm glad you didn't maim me further after the collision sent me into a building."

Cordelia flipped to her back. "Perhaps it was like one of your mother's omens."

"Maybe. Still haven't figured out if it was a good one or a bad one though."

"I guess we'll have to wait and see."

An owl hooted in the trees outside, it's wings whistling through the violent breeze. Cordelia gasped and sat up in bed, peering towards the window. Cap rose up and laid a comforting hand on her arm. 

"What is it?"

"An owl. Your mother said an owl at the window is the worst kind of sign, we need to get out of bed and mark an 'X' on the glass."

"Whoa now, darlin'," he chuckled softly. "Don't go native on me so fast. That owl is nowhere nearby peeking in at us."

Cordelia almost laughed at her stupidity until she noticed the sleeve of her gown had slipped off her shoulder. He was studying it quietly, his hand resting at the crook of her elbow. He inched his fingers up to the exposed skin and ran the tips of them down the edge of her collar bone, igniting sparks as he went.

"Besides," he whispered huskily, watching his hand. "It's an owl at the window in daylight that's a bad sign."

His rough, long fingers sloped down to where the neck of the shift lay. Following the seam to the loose tie at the valley between her breasts, he paused and played with the knot. He glanced up at her, his gaze as needful as her own as her chest rose and fell sharply with her shallow breathing.

"I thought you were too tired." He tugged the knot free and the front of her shift fell open.

Cordelia's breath caught in her throat. "Not that tired, I guess. I thought you were too drunk."

"Definitely not that drunk," he growled, sliding his hand under the thin fabric and pulling her to him.