Claiming Their Nanny: A Cowboy Ménage Romance (Montana Ménage Book 1)

by Lily Reynard

  Even now, the faint scent of her lavender cologne teased his nose, and he had to fight to keep from sniffing after her like a puppy.

  Earlier today, Dan had wondered whether bringing Abby to the ranch was going to cause trouble where his brother was concerned. Things would have been simpler if she'd really been the sour old spinster that he and Jim had been expecting, because Jim was always on the prowl for sweet young things.

  But if Dan was going to be honest with himself, maybe the problem here wasn't going to be Jim.

  What are the chances that Abby's going to stay here longer than next Sunday? Dan asked himself. Give her a day or two to rest up, and it seems likely that she'll be skedaddling back home the next time we drive her into town.

  Twin Forks probably looked like the ends of the earth to her. She had been painfully polite, but he hadn't missed her dismay at the rough conditions in town. And she hadn't been too impressed with their house, either, despite her fine words.

  She's clearly used to something better. Dan shook his head. Abigail Rose was a real conundrum.

  Once again, he wondered why the hell someone as young, beautiful, and respectable as Abby would want to come here.

  I need to find out more about her. I need to convince her to stay.

  He looked at her angelic profile as she waited patiently outside the door. Damn, but her mouth looks as luscious as a ripe peach. I want to kiss her, but I don't want to scare her off.

  Besides, I'd never hear the end of it from Jim after making such a fuss about him keeping his hands off our new nanny.

  Dan squared his shoulders, pushed down his turbulent emotions, and led Abby into the nursery.

  It was the nicest room in the house, decked out with wallpaper, one of Mama's fancy imported rugs, and a fancy carved crib that Eddie, who had been the ranch's carpenter, had made.

  Clara's rocking chair still stood in front of the small fireplace. Dan was struck by the sudden, vivid memory of his sister's serenely joyful face as she sat in that chair, holding Christopher to her breast.

  At the moment, the rocking chair was occupied by Dan's ten-year-old cousin Mukki. He hopped up as soon as Abby and Dan entered, clearly eager to end his babysitting duty.

  "I fed him and changed his diaper," Mukki announced in a loud whisper. "Can I go now?"

  "Yes, and thank you." Dan dug in his pocket for the silver dollar he'd promised Mukki. "Abigail, this is Mukki, one of my cousins."

  The boy took the money and studied Abby with great interest before he headed for the door. She smiled at him. "Hello, Mukki. It's nice to meet you."

  "Ma'am." Mukki nodded shyly at her before edging around Dan and slipping through the nursery door.

  "She looks kind. If she's nice to the baby, you should marry her," he said over his shoulder in Siksika, the Blackfoot language, before vanishing down the hall.

  That little stinker, Dan thought. I wonder what he's going to tell the rest of the village about our new arrival.

  "Oh my," Abby whispered, looking around. "This is a beautiful room."

  She moved quietly over to the crib and stood gazing down at Christopher, who was napping peacefully. "Hello there, Christopher."

  Something twinged in Dan's chest as he watched her pull off her glove—which had been dyed to match her expensive-looking brown suit—and gently stroke the curve of the sleeping baby's cheek. Longing suffused her expression as she gazed down at him.

  "Why did you want to come all this way to care for a stranger's baby, anyway?" Dan blurted out before he could stop himself.

  Her head came up and she looked at him like a startled deer, her cornflower-blue eyes wide and worried. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I mean, we're real grateful you came," he said, feeling like he was stumbling through a thorny thicket of words. "But someone like you could find a husband in an instant and have kids of your own. Why did you come all the way out here?"

  The raw grief in her expression struck him like a buffalo spear in the chest, and Dan realized that he'd just overstepped all the bounds of politeness. At the same instant, he badly wanted to discover the reason for her pain.

  "I wanted to work as your nanny because I love children," Abby said, her gaze returning to Christopher. "They’re so full of joy and hope."

  Dan noticed that she hadn't answered his real question, and it only made him more curious.

  He decided to change the subject before he got himself in bigger trouble with her. He was normally smoother around the fairer sex, but there was something about Miss Abigail Rose of Philadelphia that threw him off-balance.

  "So, what do you enjoy doing in your free time? Christopher here spends a lot of time sleeping, so I imagine you'll have a bit of leisure time in addition to Sundays off. If you want to take the wagon and ride into town to go shopping or to visit Mrs. Kottinger, just let us know so that I can ask Mukki to babysit."

  "Thank you. That's very generous of you," she said.

  She reached down to touch Christopher's cheek again.

  Abby looked like she would make some man a perfect wife. So why did she want this job all the way out on the frontier so badly?

  He silently laughed at himself and wondered if he was as bad as Jim when it came to women. He wanted to learn more about Abby. He wanted to find out everything about her. Because I'm a prying fool without a lick of sense.

  Then, unexpectedly, she said, "You asked me why I wanted to come here instead of staying home and marrying someone."

  She straightened up and faced him. Her full lips were pressed into a thin line, and she looked grimly determined. "I have decided never to marry."

  All right. She'd answered his question, but that answer only filled his head with more questions. Why does she want to remain a spinster if she loves children so much?

  His imagination was running wild, but he didn't want to bombard her with questions. After all, she was going to be here for at least the rest of summer. He had time enough to solve the mystery.

  In the meanwhile, he'd be dreaming about her in his arms tonight, soft and sweet, her glorious golden hair unpinned and spread over his pillow.

  Dammit, I'm getting to be as bad as my brother.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Abby opened her eyes to sunlight slanting through the window of her cozy new room.

  My first day of work and I've overslept!

  She sat up with a gasp, throwing back the bedclothes. It wouldn't do to have her new employers consider her lazy, especially since she was in a probationary period.

  Yesterday was now a blur punctuated by a few vivid memories. Jim holding her bare hand. Standing in Dan's strong embrace after her impetuous decision to offer comfort. Her first sight of Christopher, with his plump, rosy baby cheeks and thatch of dark hair.

  After introducing her to her new charge, Dan had gone back downstairs to help his brother unload the wagon. Abby had remained upstairs until supper, trying to stay awake as she busied herself with unpacking her suitcases and putting away her clothing in the armoire and dresser.

  A quick exploration of the fenced grounds surrounding the house had revealed the location of the necessary, a double-seater tucked a corner of the overgrown fenced garden.

  The outhouse was surrounded by a tangle of rose bushes run riot with large blossoms in all shades of pink, interspersed with tall vivid-blue spikes of delphinium and hollyhocks in shades of blood-red, peach, and fuchsia.

  Gnarled apple, plum, cherry, and apricot trees stood around the garden's perimeter, their branches heavy with green fruit.

  A square wooden beehive placed under the fruit trees hummed with activity as the bees industriously worked in the untended flowerbeds.

  The only part of the garden that looked orderly was the section closest to the kitchen door. There, beanpoles supporting a riotous tangle of beans stood in neat rows alongside cabbages, potato vines, squash plants, onions, strawberries, sweet corn, and a large variety of cooking and medicinal herbs.

  A large
chicken coop resided in one corner of the garden, and a dozen hens, guarded by an alert rooster, scratched happily among the vegetables.

  Abby stood in the garden for a long time, drinking in the vista of spectacular mountains surrounding this lush valley. The air here was clean and fresh, untainted by the pervasive odors of coal smoke, raw sewage, and the products of a dozen different factories that polluted Philadelphia's atmosphere.

  And other than a cluster of barns nearby, she couldn't see any other buildings or hear anything other than the sound of the wind shushing through the tall grass, the soft clucking of the chickens, and the occasional distant whinny of a horse.

  Back home, horse-drawn wagons, carriages, and streetcars raised a din on the cobbled streets at all hours. Here, the deep silence underlying everything pressed against her ears with almost palpable force.

  The sky overhead was soft blue, with downy-looking white clouds and warm golden sunshine. It felt profoundly peaceful.

  I could be happy here.

  But she suspected that the Brody brothers would prove a dangerous source of temptation in the weeks and months to come.

  Afterwards, she barely remembered anything about her first meal in her new home and had all but stumbled upstairs to undress in the privacy of her pretty new bedroom.

  After removing her travel-stained skirts and bodice, she unhooked her corset with a sigh of relief and untied the bustle from her waist. Then she stripped off her chemise, petticoats, and drawers, and gave herself a quick sponge bath using the basin and pitcher in her room.

  Clean at last and freed from the layers of clothing that she had been wearing for three long days, she slipped into her long nightgown and crawled between clean sheets that smelled of sunshine and pine-scented breezes.

  I never realized how wonderful it was to sleep in a real bed. I'll never take it for granted again, she vowed as her head sank into a cloud-like feather pillow.

  And she remembered nothing else until she awoke with a start the next morning to the faint sound of a crying baby.

  She scrambled out of bed and hastened to brush out her hair before quickly braiding it and pinning it up in a coiled bun at the back of her head. Remembering that Jim had offered to give her a tour of the ranch this morning, she decided to dress in a sensible shirtwaist and long pleated skirt that did not require a bustle.

  The welcome scents of coffee and frying bacon greeted her when she opened the door of her room.

  She stepped out into the hall and peeked into the nursery. It was empty, and the sound of crying seemed to be coming from somewhere downstairs.

  A fine nanny I'm turning out to be! She chided herself, turning away from the nursery door.

  "Morning, Abby," Jim greeted her as he came up the stairs.

  He looked clean-shaven and impossibly handsome in a beaded buckskin shirt. His smile and his clear brown eyes had the same heart-stopping impact on her this morning, when she was well-rested, as they had yesterday, when she'd been dazed with weariness.

  He continued, "I was just coming to fetch you for breakfast. Dan's downstairs with Chris. Gotta warn you, the little nipper's a bit fussy this morning. Probably got another tooth coming in."

  "Good morning, Jim," she replied. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sleep so late."

  "Not to worry," he assured her, ushering her down the stairs with a gallant bow. "You looked dead on your feet yesterday. I was half-expecting you to dive face-first into your soup. Hope you slept well."

  "Never better. I am thoroughly refreshed and ready to work," she told him as she lifted her skirt hem and began to descend.

  He chuckled. "I must say, I'm mighty pleased that you can tell me and Dan apart."

  "Oh?" she asked in surprise. Though they appeared identical at first sight, the brief time spent in their company yesterday had revealed that the twins' bearing and mannerisms differed sharply.

  Jim appeared to be the more confident of the brothers. He moved with an unconscious swagger, and his glances and remarks were openly flirtatious more often than not. He made her feel beautiful and desirable, but he also frightened her a little.

  If you give him an inch, he'll try to take a mile, Dan had warned her, and she sensed that he had been telling the truth.

  Dan was quieter, his manner more reserved. But she was having a difficult time not dwelling on how right and good it had felt when they embraced yesterday.

  Both of these men are dangerous to what remains of my virtue.

  Good sense dictated that she should probably leave the ranch before temptation became overwhelming. But she had lost her heart yesterday to sweet little orphaned Christopher. He needs me. I can't run away like a coward.

  "Not many folks can tell us apart…something we took advantage of once or twice when we were boys," Jim said when they reached the bottom of the stairs and began heading towards the dining room at the rear of the house.

  He gave her one of those wicked grins. "We got away with a fair bit until Dad decided to thrash us both anytime one of us blamed the other for a misdeed."

  Abby laughed. "I imagine that having two young boys the same age must have kept your house pretty lively."

  Jim nodded. "Now, that's a polite understatement. We were a trial to our parents, no question about it."

  "And I'm certain that they'd be proud of you now, with your diligent care of your nephew."

  Daniel was already seated at the table when they arrived in the dining room. Christopher sat wailing on his lap, turning his head away from the rubber nipple tipping a slender metal tube protruding from a glass bottle half-filled with milk.

  "Good morning, Abby," he greeted her. "Hope you slept well."

  "Never better," she answered. "Would you like me to take Christopher? Perhaps I can soothe him."

  "I'd sure appreciate that," Dan replied, handing the baby to her, along with a large square of flannel as Jim pulled a chair out for her. "Breakfast is just about ready."

  She sank down in the chair and settled Christopher onto her lap. Remembering an approach that had worked with her younger sister when Mama was unable to nurse, she gathered him close, trying to emulate the position that he would be in while taking a breast. Then she dripped a bit of the warm milk from the bottle into his mouth to remind him that he was hungry.

  Sometimes babies got so caught up in crying that they forgot that what they really wanted was a meal.

  To her relief, it worked. Christopher's wails subsided almost immediately. He hiccupped once or twice and latched greedily onto the bottle.

  "You're a miracle worker, Abby!" Dan said, with a smile that warmed Abby right down to her toes. "I wasn't getting anywhere with him."

  The swinging door leading the to the kitchen opened, and the ranch's cook, a tall black man with a wooden leg, emerged with a large platter heaped with breakfast.

  "Good morning, Miss Abigail," he said in a deep, soft voice.

  "Good morning, Mr. McKellen," she replied, her mouth watering at the savory scents rising from the mound of fluffy scrambled eggs, rashers of bacon, and heap of fried potatoes with bits of caramelized onions. "This looks delicious."

  Abby had met Corporal Isaiah McKellan at supper yesterday and learned that he was an army veteran who had come to Montana with the 25th Infantry.

  "The Indians in these parts call us 'Buffalo Soldiers' on account of our hair, and the name stuck," he had told her.

  "While stationed at Fort Shaw, Isaiah lost his leg while saving one of his comrades from an angry grizzly bear while his squad was out on patrol," Dan had informed her.

  "And that was the end of my career in the US Army," Isaiah had said regretfully. "Though I like horses and enjoy my work here at the ranch with Daniel and James."

  "And we're damned lucky to have you, Isaiah," Jim had said and added hastily, "Begging your pardon for my language, Abby."

  As Jim served her from the generous platter of breakfast, Isaiah reappeared with a coffee pot and a plate piled with thick slices of toast.

/>   The sight of the butter crock and jar of jam on the table reminded Abby of something she wanted to ask the Brodys and Isaiah.

  "I noticed that there were a number of fruit trees planted in the back garden," she began as she continued to feed Christopher his breakfast. "I was wondering if you might need help with canning once the fruit ripens. My grandparents owned a farm, and I used to help my grandmother with canning in the summers."

  Isaiah smiled at her. "I'm mighty glad for the offer. I don't know anything about canning or making jam." His expression sobered as he continued, "Mrs. Brody and Miss Clara used to take care of all that."