by Karen Kirst
He doesn’t love you, Grace. Even if he did have feelings for you, they’d be based on a lie.
Overwhelming sadness pressed in on her, dark and oppressive, out of place on this happy occasion and in this room lovingly decorated by excited parents awaiting their new family member. Carefully replacing a carved lion, she averted her face.
“I, ah, should go and check on the girls. Thank you for showing me.”
The other women murmured soft goodbyes, lagging behind as she hurried down the stairs and out the front door in an effort to avoid seeing Noah. He’d guess something was wrong and question her. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t blurt out everything. Her fake identity. Her fear of Frank. Her love for Noah.
She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t bear to see the disgust in his eyes. Her lies aside, he’d likely feel sorry for her if she confessed her true feelings. Just the other day, he’d informed her of another suitor who’d be coming around, his manner offhand. Like it didn’t gut him to think of her with another man.
Circling the house, she kept to the edge of the crowd and headed for the secluded wooded area, in search of refuge.
* * *
Where was she?
Noah had been on edge since before the wedding ceremony had commenced. The single men in attendance, particularly James Johnson’s cowboy buddies, had been ogling Constance in a way that made his blood boil.
He’d kept his attention on the house’s back door, expecting her to emerge any minute. When Leah and Tomasina finally rejoined the party, and she wasn’t with them, he stalked over.
“Where’s Constance?”
Tomasina arched a brow at his abrupt manner.
Leah looked confused. “She should be out here. She came out about fifteen minutes ago.”
Pivoting, he searched the grounds for a glimpse of her ice-blue dress and dark hair, frustrated when he couldn’t see her. “She’s not here.”
“Maybe she’s off on a secret rendezvous with a dashing cowboy,” Tomasina suggested with a mischievous grin.
“That’s not funny,” he fumed.
“You do realize you’re acting like a jealous husband, right?” she responded.
Clenching his fists, his gaze left hers to scour the woods. “I’m going to look for her. Will you keep an eye on the twins?”
Leah and Tomasina shared knowing smiles. “Of course, Noah.”
Uncaring what they thought or wrongly assumed, he told himself it wasn’t jealousy spurring his behavior. It was simple concern.
Stalking through the thicket like an angry bear, the noise of the celebration lessened and crickets’ chirping filled his ears. He caught a flash of color off to his right the same instant he became aware of male laughter.
Fire ignited his blood. Constance stood with her back to a large oak, surrounded by three spit-shined cowboys. The foursome jerked their heads up at his abrupt arrival in the flower-dotted meadow. The surprise on Constance’s face disappeared, her features shuttering as her gaze lowered to the grass. Annoyance flushed his system. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, whether she welcomed his intrusion or resented it.
“Sheriff Burgess, are you lost?” one particularly stupid cowboy drawled.
The second one laughed and actually stepped closer to Constance.
Bad decision.
His movements deliberate, he made a show of resting his hand on his weapon. Because of the no-gun policy within the town’s limits, he and his deputies were the only ones armed. The men lost their sense of humor really quick.
“I’m not lost.” He matched their lazy drawl, easy to do for someone who hailed from Virginia. “But you three are. Party’s that way.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
Looking exasperated, they reluctantly trudged off, grumbling among themselves.
Only when he was certain they were gone did he approach Constance, who at long last lifted her gaze to his. Her beauty socked him in the gut, though her impish features were twisted in confusion.
You’re mine. The words nearly left his lips.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded instead. “Coming out here with those three?”
Pressing into the trunk, she raised her chin. “I didn’t come out here with them. I was seeking a moment of privacy. They happened upon me and stopped to chat. Why are you so angry?”
Noah rested his palm on the rough bark beside her head and leaned in so that very little air remained between them. Her lips parted, and a puff of breath fanned his nose. Unchecked longing turned her eyes dark amber. Longing. For him.
Shock pounded at his temples. Constance hadn’t ever been disgusted by his scars, but the knowledge that she was attracted to him made his world go sideways.
Unable to stop himself, he skimmed his fingertips along her cheekbone and the curve of her cheek, glorying in the creamy texture.
“You don’t want a cowboy, city girl,” he managed in a gruff voice.
Her eyes were huge, the pupils tiny black points. “Why not?”
“Because they’re not looking for commitment. They’re here for fun. The temporary kind.”
Her slender neck worked as she swallowed. He wrapped a stray lock of her hair around his finger, wishing things were different, wishing she truly could be his.
This is madness, Burgess.
Constance’s hands fluttered up to bury in his suit’s lapels. “Noah?”
His elbow bent as he rested even more weight against the tree, bringing their faces together, their lips almost touching. “What is it, city girl?”
“Kiss me?”
Noah didn’t wait for her to ask a second time. He brushed his mouth across hers, emotion drowning him as she responded with breathless enthusiasm, holding nothing back. He cradled her face. She shifted so that his weight supported her, transferring her hands from his suit jacket to his hair, her fingers exploring the short strands.
Noah lost himself in the sensations her caresses wrought, this connection with Constance making him think crazy thoughts, filling him with reckless dreams that featured her as his wife. She would be his. He would be hers. They could spend a lifetime getting to know each other, loving each other.
His mind recoiled at the word love. No way did he love Constance.
Hateful logic rushed in, and he savored one last kiss of her sweet mouth before lifting his head and gently putting her from him.
“Noah?” Her face crumpled, her hands reaching for him, the gaudy rings flashing. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think Colton Bailey would approve of me kissing you.” His voice was thick and raspy. He turned his back.
“I don’t understand.” She laid a hand on his arm. “He has nothing to do with us.”
He sidestepped, forcing her hand to fall away, his lungs constricted with regret. “There is no us.”
Her sharp inhale punctuated the silence.
“Forgive me,” he murmured, desperate to get away before he took her in his arms again.
“Oh, here you are...” Pippa appeared in the clearing, stopping short when she took in their expressions. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Tomasina and Leah were looking for you, Constance, so I volunteered to help. The girls wanted cake and weren’t sure if they were allowed to have any.”
He schooled his features. “Pippa, would you mind returning to the party with her? I’ve got an errand I forgot to tend to.”
She nodded uncertainly. “Sure.”
Half turning to address Constance, he didn’t lift his gaze above her shoulder. “If I don’t return before you’re ready to leave, either Will or Daniel will take you home.”
Without waiting for her response, he strode on ahead, skirting the house and heading for town.
Chapter Sixteen
When the refreshment tables becam
e visible through the leafy branches, Pippa paused midstride and, turning toward Grace, placed a beseeching hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”
Unwilling to add another lie on the pile she’d already constructed, she met the other woman’s gaze and opted for the truth. “No, Pippa. I’m not.”
The actress studied her with those lively hazel eyes, a pleat between her ginger-hued brows. Grace knew she wouldn’t have to wait long for her opinion. They’d spent a pleasant afternoon together earlier in the week, enjoying pastries and tea at the bakery while the girls ate and played quietly at another table, after which she’d given them a tour of the opera house. Pippa had respected Grace’s decision not to let the girls perform. Nor had she pressed her for information about her life in Chicago. While she felt they were on the way to being friends, she couldn’t ever be her true self, not when she had to keep up this deception.
“There’s something between you and the sheriff, isn’t there?”
“I care for him.” It felt wonderful to admit her private feelings to someone. “The problem is he doesn’t feel the same.”
Pippa heaved a deep sigh, the purple feather dangling from her hat sweeping low. “Why must some men insist on making our lives difficult? For what it’s worth, I don’t get the impression he doesn’t care. He’s not an easy man to read, however. Still waters run deep, and all that.” She fluttered her fingers.
Grace twisted the heavy ruby ring on her first finger, hating what these jewels represented—not tokens of affection from a husband who adored her but meaningless objects intended to flaunt the Longstreet wealth—and wished she could forget them in a drawer somewhere to collect dust. But they’d provide instant funds if she and the girls ever had to leave town in a rush.
“You came here on the first bride train. Have you not met anyone you can see yourself marrying?”
“There are plenty of nice gentlemen in Cowboy Creek,” Pippa said. “Of course I’d fancy the one who isn’t planning on sticking around.”
“Gideon.”
“Yes.”
Grace gave her a commiserating look. “Is there a chance he’ll change his mind?”
“He loves his job. All he talks about is how grand his life is, the adventures he gets to experience traveling the nation. There’s no possibility of him staying in a boring Kansas boomtown.”
“I wouldn’t call Cowboy Creek boring. Perhaps he’s testing you, gauging your reaction, before working up the courage to ask you to join him.”
“I don’t know.” Her usual confidence slipped, allowing Grace a glimpse of vulnerability. Pippa truly cared for Gideon, that much was obvious.
Hitching up her purple-and-black-striped skirts, Pippa squared her shoulders. “Come. Let’s forget about our irksome gentlemen and take advantage of the celebration.”
Grace’s smile was halfhearted, her mind consumed with Noah’s kiss, the joy his embrace had evoked and the sorrow following his heartbreaking rejection.
As soon as they left the tree line, a man with a stocky build, wavy brown hair and kind brown eyes approached with his hat in his hands. He possessed boyish good looks and a hesitant manner.
“Mrs. Miller?”
Her stomach tightened. “Yes?”
“I’m Colton Bailey. Sheriff Burgess was supposed to introduce us today. Guess he forgot.” Sticking out his hand, he shook hers as if sealing a deal with a fellow rancher. “Would you like to accompany me on a picnic tomorrow after services?”
Grace considered postponing before Noah’s parting words reminded her the kiss didn’t mean anything to him. She had an obligation to find a replacement husband as soon as possible. Because he’d rebuffed her. Over and over again. Pain arrowed through her.
“Why don’t you join us for Sunday lunch out at the ranch?” she offered on the spur of the moment, savoring the thought of Noah’s reaction.
Colton’s expression faltered. “You don’t think the sheriff will mind?”
Oh, he’ll mind, all right. “He doesn’t have to join us.”
He nodded. “Then I accept. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Miller.”
“Please, call me Constance.”
Pippa, who’d been silent during the exchange, shot her a surprised sideways glance.
Colton smiled. He had a nice smile. He struck her as young, but apparently he was old enough to have his own spread and old enough to be searching for a wife.
“Good day, Constance.”
After he’d swaggered away, Pippa’s laugh was low. “I’d like to be a fly on the wall of the sheriff’s cabin tomorrow.”
Grace shrugged, striving for a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “Noah doesn’t want to marry me. In fact, he’s helping Will and Daniel in this scheme to marry me off to someone else. Courting potential suitors is what I’m expected to do. If he doesn’t like it, he shouldn’t have insisted I stay at the ranch.”
Pippa grinned. “I’ll expect a full report on Monday.”
* * *
Noah pondered his options with careful consideration. He could throw Colton Bailey out of his house and order him off his property over threat of bodily harm. He could toss Constance over his shoulder, cart her outside and demand to know why she thought inviting another man to eat at his table—a man clearly besotted with her—was a good idea. Especially considering Noah had held her in his arms just yesterday.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d made a naive mistake, one he somehow couldn’t regret. He’d take those precious moments with him to the grave.
Grinding his back teeth together, he sliced into the roast on his plate with too much force, the resulting screech causing everyone at the table to cease their conversation and stare. Meeting Constance’s inscrutable gaze, he set his utensils aside and focused on getting his coffee down without choking.
She’d done this to goad him. If her notable unease was anything to go by, she regretted it as much as Noah. Her laughter in response to Bailey’s jokes was forced, her speech stilted as she answered his questions.
Jane had been telling him about the fun things she liked to do in Chicago. Unaware of the adults’ tension, she gushed, “My second cousin played dolls with me. She sewed dresses and bonnets for them out of scrap material.”
Bailey’s smile was authentic. He didn’t seem to mind the girls’ chatter. Good for him, Noah thought sourly.
“That was thoughtful of her. What’s her name?”
“Oh, um...” What could only be described as a guilty air came over her. From beneath lowered lashes, she shot her mother a questioning glance. “I—”
“The girls really miss their family.” Constance rushed to intervene, her color heightened. “Do you have family close by, Colton?”
Something wasn’t right. Noah studied the three females. Jane kept her gaze downcast, as if she’d blundered. Abigail gaped at her sister. Constance was clearly flustered. But why? Was there some secret family scandal involving her cousin?
The moment passed, and eventually the topic of favorite hobbies came up. When Bailey mentioned he liked to fish, Jane brightened. “Would you teach me how?”
“Me, too!” Abigail bounced in her seat.
Noah scowled. If anyone was going to teach the twins how to fish, it was going to be him. Why they’d asked a man they’d just met instead of him he couldn’t figure. He was pretty sure Colton Bailey had never fixed little girls’ hair before.
“I’ll show you, girls.” Scraping his chair back, he carried his half-full plate to the counter. “In fact, why don’t we head out to the stream now and give your ma and Mr. Bailey a few moments alone?”
The suggestion delighted the twins. Bailey dipped his head, his attention on his plate, while Constance’s lips pressed into a line of displeasure.
“That’s not necessary,” she said, starting to get up.
&nb
sp; Noah aimed a false smile at her. “I don’t mind. You and your beau take your time over coffee and dessert. No need to rush.”
His mouth felt full of nails at Bailey’s obvious approval of that idea.
Angry as a hornet whose nest had been disturbed, he stalked toward the door. “Jane. Abigail. I’ll be in the barn fetching the poles. Meet me at the stream.”
“Yes, sir!”
Resting on the porch, Wolf hopped up and followed him across the yard and into the barn. Rummaging through his tool room, he said over his shoulder, “This is a disaster, Wolf. A nightmare.”
The wolf dog stood watching him, his tail wagging, looking almost as if he was smiling.
“There’s nothing funny about this, you know.”
If only he could wake up and find this messy situation was just a dream. That he’d returned from the fruitless search for the Murdoch gang to an empty cabin. That his friends had actually listened and heeded his objections.
He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to ward off a headache.
But then, he wouldn’t have met Constance. Or the girls. He wouldn’t have had anyone to read to. Or share delicious meals with. He wouldn’t have pictures drawn specifically for him. He wouldn’t feel connected or wanted or needed. And he had to be honest, it felt amazing to be those things to the widow and her daughters. Sure, the town needed him to do a job, but that was different. This thing with Constance, Jane and Abigail, it was personal.
He was beginning to dread the day they would leave.
Emerging into the steady sunshine, he joined the girls on the bank and showed them how to dig for worms. Abigail surprised him. The worms didn’t seem to bother her. Jane was more squeamish, her freckled nose wrinkling as she held one away from her body.
He found himself fighting a grin. Which was shocking, considering his brain persisted in conjuring images of Constance and Bailey together inside.
