He glanced at her over his shoulder and saw her staring at him in confusion. “The babes. None of us want to be responsible for waking them. For, if we are, Miss Sorcha’s told us it’s our responsibility to get them back to sleep.” He smiled as she giggled. “And that is more than any of us could handle.”
She sobered. “You don’t like children.”
His countenance softened, as though considering Sorcha’s babies. “No, I adore those little ones. And I’d die protectin’ them, if need be.” He paused as though he were warning her of something, but, when she continued to stare at him in bewilderment, he returned his attention to the meal he was preparing. “I thought we’d make a stew for tonight.”
“All ye need to do is teach me how to use this monstrosity, an’ ye can return to the animals.”
He made a disgusted noise and slammed the knife onto the chopping board. “I imagine a woman like you believes that’s where a man like me belongs.” He gazed at her with a knowing look, as she stared at him with dread. “A beast of a man belongs with the beasts, aye?” he said, mimicking her accent.
“I never said such a thing,” she protested, flushing at his words.
“No, but I’m certain you thought it. And I know you were not pleased to have breakfast with the hands this morning.” He faced her. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, miss, but life is hard on a ranch, and we’ll grab at whatever joy we can find. That always includes a good meal and fine company. And, for your misfortune, your cousin is one of the finest women any of us has ever met.”
When Davina stared at him as though he were a barbarian, he crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at her. “We know she’s the boss’s woman, and we’d never disrespect her,” Slims said. “She treats all of us as though we are worthy of her regard and has never looked down at us, merely because we are hired hands.” He waited, nodding his head, as she paled at the implication she had been rude and judgmental because she had done just that.
“Now I’m to teach you how to use this stove,” he said, turning to it.
Although Slims spent many minutes describing how to use the beautiful stove, a stove Davina could only have dreamed about while in Scotland, her mind was muddled. At the end of his long tutorial, she remembered little of what he had said about how to regulate the heat in the main oven, how to use the warming oven, or how to heat water in the water vat. All she could see was the disapproval glinting in his gaze. All she could feel was the sinking sensation in her stomach that she had failed. Again.
* * *
Two days later, Slims entered the main house to help Davina cook supper. He hoped it was for the last time. Being close to her, but not truly forming a connection with her, was a torment. He knew she had no regard for him and resented the time he and the men spent in the main house. However, he dreaded the thaw worse, for that would mean drifters would arrive, looking for work. And, with the drifters, another cook was bound to appear. When that occurred, the men would take all their meals in the bunkhouse, and he would only ever see Davina in passing.
He waited in the kitchen for five long minutes, but, when she failed to appear, he swore. Rather than rattle pans and act like a demented fool, he walked on silent boot heels toward the hallway leading to a few family rooms on the main floor and the stairs to the second floor.
As he approached the hallway, two voices singing in perfect harmony floated down the hallway, and he paused. Never had he heard such beauty before. Although he had no idea what they were saying, the longing in their voices evoked a deep, unfulfilled yearning in him. For the love of a worthy woman. For a family of his own. To truly belong.
When the song ended, he let out a raspy breath, praying for another song to begin. When one did, he leaned against the wall, intent on not making any noise and unintentionally interrupting the impromptu serenade. This time the song was upbeat, almost cheerful, although the sense of pining for a lost love remained. When that song ended, he held his breath, letting it out with a disappointed huff when he heard voices chatting rather than another song starting.
He pushed away from the wall, moving toward the rear room where Sorcha spun her yarns. Inside the comfortable room, she had looms and mounds of wool to spin. An area in one corner had been barricaded off for the twins. They slept and played in it while their mother worked and seemed contented whenever they heard her voice and were near each other.
His breath caught as he saw Davina holding little Mairi, now one year old. Davina cooed and whispered something in her cousin’s ear, smiling as the girl tugged at her hair. The floorboard creaked, and she spun so Mairi was clasped to her front, protected from whoever intruded. At the sight of him, he saw her relax and then coo again at her cousin.
“Have you decided not to cook tonight, miss?” he asked.
Davina bounced Mairi in her arms and smiled at Slims. “Let’s see if you can make him less of a grouch, aye?” she said. Handing Mairi to Slims, she raised an eyebrow in challenge, as though daring him to refuse to hold the beautiful baby.
He instinctively reached for her, cradling Mairi against his chest. “Hello, little love,” he said, kissing her head. He swayed from side to side and chuckled when she grabbed his nose. Ignoring Davina and her shocked expression, he focused on Sorcha. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen the babes. They’re always asleep when we eat.”
Sorcha smiled. “Aye, be thankful they are. They’ve taken to throwin’ food. Yesterday we were covered in porridge when we were done feedin’ the wee beasts.” She held baby Harold high as she said that, laughing as he chortled.
Slims’s attention was distracted when Mairi patted him on his cheeks and then rocked forward and back in his arms. “Oh, you think that’s a fine adventure, don’t you, Miss Mairi?” he murmured, kissing her on her forehead, as she collapsed forward onto his shoulder, heaving out a sigh and tumbling into sleep. “There’s a little angel.” He ran a big hand over her back, as he rocked from side to side.
When he caught Davina staring at him in abject wonder, he winked at her. “This isn’t the first time I’ve held a baby, miss.”
“Apparently not,” she murmured. “How … fascinating.” She flushed as he continued to stare at her. After a long moment, she cleared her throat and turned to Sorcha. “I believe I’m needed in the kitchen. Will ye be all right?”
Sorcha smiled. “Aye, Harold’s about to fall asleep too.” She motioned for Slims to follow her to the area in the corner of the room, where she laid Harold and then eased Mairi down. “They’ll have their rest, an’ then perhaps they’ll join us at dinner tonight?”
Slims grimaced. “If we’re to eat that supper, we had better start preparin’ it.” After following Davina out of the room, through the house, and into the kitchen, he paused. “What will you make tonight?”
She spun to stare at him in confusion. “I dinna understand,” she whispered. “Why should it matter what I want to make?”
“Today’s the last day I want to help you. I have important work to do in the barns as we prepare for the upcoming season.”
She turned away, her shoulders rigid as she yanked on an apron. “Important, aye. Of course.”
Frowning, Slims studied her. “I’m hired here on the ranch as foreman. To oversee the workings of the ranch and the men. Not to cook. You do understand the distinction, miss?”
She flushed and bowed her head.
He tilted her chin up with the subtle strength of two fingers under her chin. “But that doesn’t mean that what you do isn’t as important. Or that I’m not grateful for the delicious meals you cook.” He waited for her to meet his implacable stare, confusion and concern shining in his gaze as he saw the defeat in hers. “Davina, what did I do?”
“Nothin’,” she whispered, her mouth clamped shut after the single word escaped. “Nothin’.”
Slims’s gaze focused even more on her, and his hold on her altered as his hand cupped her cheek. “When a woman says nothing, I know I messed up. When she says it more t
han once, I know I hurt her.” He waited, as though hoping she would make some response. When she remained resolutely silent, he stroked a thumb over the soft skin of her cheek, seemingly fascinated as a faint blush bloomed in the wake of his caress. “What did I do?”
She shook her head and took a step back, effectively separating from him. “Ye showed me where I stand. And, for that, I’m most grateful.” She turned away, her shoulders rising and falling, as she took labored breaths. “I believe I do not need yer help, Mr. Slims. Ye’ve been most kind takin’ time from yer busy day to show me how to use the stove. I ken I’ll be fine.”
“Miss,” Slims said in a deep melodious voice. He noted she shivered at his voice but did not turn to face him.
“No, sir. I thank ye.” She looked over one shoulder, her expression carefully blank and free of all emotion. “Ye should return to yer important work.” Nodding to the kitchen door, she waited expectantly for him to leave.
With one last tormented stare, Slims swore under his breath and marched out the door, slamming it shut behind him. When he stood outside, he waited a few minutes on the steps, hoping the cold and the slight wind would cool his irrational anger. However, he could not determine if he was angry with himself or her.
Chapter 3
A few days later, Davina wandered out of the main house from the kitchen door. For the past few days, the weather had reminded her of Scotland. Gray and gloomy, although there hadn’t been much snow. The previous evening at supper, Dalton and Dixon had entertained her with tales about the harsh winter of 1886–87, where every day felt like a blizzard, and they lost upward of 60 percent of their cattle. And those cattle that had survived were emaciated to the point of falling over with a strong gust of wind.
Shorty only chimed in to regale her about the day he rode in with a herd of healthy cattle, after wintering in the high country meadow, surviving on rationed tins of beans in a rickety cabin. He had puffed out his chest with pride that he had helped save the ranch from foreclosure.
“Miraculous,” she whispered to herself, envisioning the scene. She couldn’t imagine what Frederick, who had worked his entire adult life to ensure the ranch’s success, had felt. It must have been like waking from the worst nightmare and having every dream answered. “I wonder what that feels like.”
She gave a small shake of her head and stared at the snow-covered land. She knew the mountains were in the distance, but low-lying clouds shrouded them today. Turning her focus to the ranch, her glance roved over the barns, the paddocks, the chicken coop, and the small smithy. Everything needed to keep the ranch self-sufficient and running smoothly. After all of Frederick’s hard work, she couldn’t imagine losing the ranch due to the fickleness of the weather.
Wandering in the direction of the larger of the two barns, she ignored the rope tied between it and the main house—there in case of a blizzard—walking freely to the barn door and easing it open. Once inside, she waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust and then sighed with pleasure. She’d always loved horses, although her da had informed her that horses were a man’s domain.
When a horse poked its head over the stall door and nickered, as though it wanted attention, she moved to it. Stroking a hand down its nose, she giggled as it snuffled. “I have no treat for ye,” she whispered. “Although I’d love to take ye out on a ride, ye beautiful beast.”
“That’s Frederick’s prize filly. He wouldn’t be pleased to know you’d stolen her,” Slims said, smiling as she gasped and spun to face him. “She’s Boots.” He chuckled when Boots poked her head out again, nudging at Davina’s shoulder for more attention.
Davina patted at Boots, scratching behind her ears. “Boots. What an odd name for such a beautiful lady.”
“She has white markings from hoof to knee on all four limbs,” Slims said with a wave in the direction of her hooves. “You seem fond of horses.”
“Aye,” she said, as she smiled and patted again at Boots. “I’ve always loved them. But I ken I’m foolish.”
“Why?” he asked with a quizzical frown. “Do you feel that way, or did someone make you feel that way?”
Davina flushed and shrugged, ignoring his question. She dropped her hand from Boots’s muzzle and backed up a step, facing Slims.
After a moment, Slims looked at her in confusion. “Why are you here? Do you need help in the kitchen?”
Davina stomped her foot on the ground and let out a huff of frustration. “As though the only reason I’d venture into the barn is because I’d be lookin’ for yer help,” she muttered.
He closed the distance between them, his gaze filled with annoyance. “No, miss. I know I’m the last person you’d ever seek out for any aid. Why would you look to a dirty cowpoke for that?” When she stared at him in befuddlement, he nodded. “Aye, I can only imagine your continued disgust at having to mingle with the hands at meals. Why bother feignin’ interest when Dix tells his stories?”
She let out a raspy breath and shook her head. “’Tisn’t a pretense. I like hearin’ what life on the ranch is like. An’ I can only imagine the amount of hard work ye do every day to ensure it keeps runnin’.”
Shaking his head, Slims continued to stare at her, as though she were a magician, intent on tricking him. “I know you don’t like us mingling with you at meals, Davina. I know you wish we were in the bunkhouse.”
She faced him, her neck arched back so she could look up into his eyes as he loomed over her. “Ye dinna ken anythin’. Seein’ ye, watchin’ ye interact every day with yer men …” Her voice broke off, as a fine quiver ran through her.
“What?” he rasped, his hand rising to brush Boots away from nudging her shoulder again. Inadvertently he stroked her cheek.
“How can I no’ admire a man who leads by example? Who could bellow and badger those around him to do what he wants, but he doesna.” She dropped her gaze, flushing, as though she had said more than she wanted and wished she could call back her words.
“You barely spare me a glance,” he whispered in a near growl.
Her head jerked up, and she met his inquisitive gaze, his brown eyes glowing with a fierce emotion. “I dinna need to.” She leaned forward, sniffing the air. “Yer footsteps and yer scent herald yer arrival.” She closed her eyes a moment, as though savoring the scent of him, a woodsy, musky scent, mixed with horses and sweat. “Ye sit in the same spot every day. An’, when ye speak, everyone listens.”
“Miss,” he breathed.
“I always ken when ye are near.” She bit her lip, flushing again, and took a step away from him. She stilled her movements when he reached forward, softly gripping her arm. With a defiant tilt of her chin, she said, “Besides, ye never acknowledge me.”
With a groan, he hauled her close, wrapping his strong arms tenderly around her. One arm banded around her back, the other held her head as he lowered his mouth, capturing her gasp with a deeply drugging kiss. He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with passionate desperation. As though frustrated with their height difference, he hefted her up and set her on a pile of hay, bringing her closer to shoulder level. Her hands fluttered around his shoulders, as soft and as fleeting as the caress of a butterfly’s wings, and he yearned for more of her touch.
She matched him, kiss for kiss, as wild for him as he was for her. Her hands rose, tracing through his hair, before linking behind his neck and holding him close, as though she were afraid he’d disappear. When he lifted his head, peppering kisses down her cheek and neck, “Nae,” she gasped. “Dinna stop.”
His breaths heated her skin, as he buried his face in her neck. “I have to, miss. Or I fear I won’t be able to. And then you’ll have no choice.”
At his words, she stiffened and pushed at him. “Nae,” she moaned. “Nae,” she said, as she pushed harder, nearly tumbling off the hay in her urgency to be free of his touch.
He glared at her, as his breath continued to saw in and out of him. However, after ensuring she would not fall, he kept his hands fisted
at his side. “You wanted me to kiss you as much as I wanted to kiss you.”
At his proclamation, she muttered, “Ye dinna have to make me sound like a harlot!” When she dared to meet his gaze and saw amusement mixed with concern, the rosy blush brought on by their bout of passion faded, and she stared at him with wide-eyed horror. “What must ye think of me?” She raised a shaking hand to her head, as her eyes widened with shame. “I’m no’ a loose woman, Slims. No matter how I acted today. I swear to you, I—”
He made a hushing noise. “Of course you aren’t. If you were, you would have taken up the invitation the others had quietly given you.” When she frowned at him, he sighed and rubbed at his head. “You never understood that Dixon and Dalton were seein’ if you were free for courtin’?”
“Courtin’?” she gasped, as though the entire notion were preposterous. “Why would they want to court me?”
He shook his head. “If you’re unable or unwillin’ to see why, I’m not the one to explain it to you.” He let out a deep sigh. “I apologize if I offended you, miss. I never meant to.” He closed his eyes, as though experiencing severe pain. “I … Forgive me.” After one last searing look, he spun on his heels and stormed away.
Davina waited, until she heard the barn door slam, before she crumpled to her knees, her legs shaking so hard that she knew she wouldn’t make it a step without collapsing. What must he think of me? she asked herself over and over. She refused to answer the question of why the answer mattered to her so very much.
* * *
Slims stormed from the barn, blind to where he was going. His only goal to put as much distance between him and that infuriating woman. He sighed when he had marched into the far reaches of the paddock and slung his arms over the railing. Ignoring the freezing temperature and the scent of snow in the air, he forced himself to calm. To ignore the overwhelming desire to return to the barn, find an empty stall, and love her until neither of them knew their names.
Lassoing A Montana Heart Page 4
