Weston stood and reached across the table, patting Jemma’s hand. “I think you would do well to at least consider the possibilities Mr. Jordan has offered. We’ll return this evening in time for dinner.”
Left alone after Weston’s departure, Jemma let out the breath she’d been holding and sat in a state of shock until the children ran into the room, ready to begin the day’s lessons.
Grateful for the routine of her day, Jemma went through the motions of helping the children with their lessons and consulting with Cook over the menu for dinner. She worked in the kitchen garden and among the flowers when the sun shone brightly in the early afternoon.
Dirt covered her hands and the knees of an old dress she’d slipped on before she went outside. Upon her return to the house, she decided to take tea in the kitchen with the children and save Cook the bother of setting out tea in the drawing room.
Rigsly slept at their feet, near the kitchen’s hearth, as they enjoyed hot tea and warm crumpets.
“Have you met Uncle Thane, Cook?” Jack asked as he spread jam on his crumpet.
“Indeed, Master Jack. I meet him this morning when he passed through the kitchen.” The round-faced cook smiled at the boy then cast a covert glance at Jemma. “He’s a very handsome and polite gentleman. Any woman would be lucky to snag him for a husband.”
Jemma choked on her tea and slapped a napkin to her mouth as she coughed and wheezed.
“Is he looking for a wife?” Confused, Jack glanced between his aunt and the cook.
“I don’t know. What do you think, Jemma, dear? Is Mr. Jordan in need of a wife?”
A heated glare met the cook’s impertinent grin. “Mr. Jordan is in need of a great many things, but I don’t believe a wife is the first that comes to mind.”
Greenfield, who happened to walk inside in time to hear Jemma’s statement, hid his smile. He set a basket full of produce on the counter then kissed his wife’s cheek as she stirred a pot on the stove.
“Mister Jordan seems like a fine chap, Miss Bryan. A fine one, indeed. Our dear Henry would have been quite proud of him, I do believe.”
Lily hopped down from her chair and began dancing around the room singing, “Uncle Thane is a fine chap. A fine chap. He’s a fine chap, indeed.”
Unable to endure hearing any more of Thane’s praises, Jemma excused herself and rushed outside. A quick glance up at the sky confirmed she wasn’t in danger of getting soaked from a rainstorm.
Troubled, she hurried to the barn and saddled her mare, a dappled-gray thoroughbred named Jael. She’d owned the spirited, though good-tempered horse since Jack was a baby.
In need of fresh air and a few quiet moments, she climbed on the horse, riding slowly as her mind wandered over all that had transpired since tea the previous afternoon.
As she contemplated her options, she pulled the pins from her hair and stuffed them into her pocket.
Alone and single all these years, she didn’t have any hope of a husband. Now that the offer of marriage loomed before her, she didn’t eagerly reach out to grasp it. Too much of a romantic to settle for anything less than love, she didn’t have any idea how she could endure years married to a man she didn’t love, much less like.
Although he was handsome enough, despite his shaggy hair and beard, Thane Jordan was not a man to open up his heart and let a woman inside, let a woman truly know him.
No, if she married the overbearing boar, it would be for the sake of the children and them only. Visions of Jack and Lily growing up overseas in some forsaken little cabin with only Thane’s uncivilized guidance made her urge the horse into a gallop as she tried to decide her best course of action.
Conflicted and uncertain, she finally returned to the cottage. She tried to hide her surprise when Thane stepped out of the stable and watched her approach. After reining Jael to a stop, she accepted the hand he held out to her as she dismounted.
“That’s a fine horse,” he said, rubbing a hand along Jael’s neck. The horse tossed her head then appeared to study him. Jemma wanted to stamp her foot when Jael nuzzled Thane’s chest and let out what sounded like a contented sigh as he rubbed a big hand over her head and along her neck. “What a beauty. What’s her name?”
“Jael. It’s from the…”
“Bible story. I know it.” Thane glanced at her. “I reckon you chose it because it’s a name of strength and determination.”
“Something like that.” Jemma’s tone was clipped as she led Jael into the stable. She removed the saddle then brushed down the horse’s shiny coat. She didn’t expect Thane to recognize the name and certainly not the reason she chose it. His astuteness left her ill at ease.
Thane leaned against the door of the horse’s stall. Quietly observing her skilled movements, he decided there might be more to Miss Jemma Bryan than an uptight, haughty female who annoyed him to no end.
She no longer wore the expensive gown she had on at breakfast. Instead, the worn cotton dress covering her trim figure had dried mud on the knees and streaks of dirt along the front. It looked as though she’d wiped her hands on it several times as she worked in the garden.
Although pinned up in the latest fashionable style that morning, her hair currently flowed freely around her face and down her shoulders. The sunlight trickling through the open stable door danced in bright beams among the silky tresses, highlighting the deep, warm shades of red among the rich brown locks.
His fingers fairly trembled with the desire to run through the strands so he shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping to find something to distract his attention.
“You ride very well. Have you ever tried a western saddle?”
The brush Jemma ran along the horse’s side stilled as she turned to glare at Thane. “Absolutely not! It wouldn’t be proper. Not at all.”
“Bet you’ve wondered what it would be like, though.” He prodded her, grinning when her shoulders stiffened at his words.
“Regardless, it isn’t acceptable. I don’t know what the women are like where you come from, but such questionable behavior most certainly isn’t tolerated here. It simply isn’t done.”
“I see. What type of behavior is deemed acceptable by those such as you?”
“It would be a waste of breath to explain it to you.” Jemma put away the brush, removed Jael’s bridle, and gave the horse her evening portion of feed before closing the stall door and hanging the bridle with the rest of the tack.
Thane followed her as she left the stables and started toward the house. With every step she took, the swish of her skirts and bounce in her hair left him with an unreasonable longing to haul her into his arms and kiss her smart mouth until it turned pliable beneath his lips. Confident of his ability to draw a response from her, he briefly considered exploring how much effort it would take.
Angry at the wayward direction of his thoughts, he pulled her to a stop with a hand to her arm. “Look, lady, you’ve got to get over everything I say making you mad. I’m just funnin’ you.”
“It’s Lady Jemma Bryan to you, sir, and I don’t find your words, tone, or behavior amusing in the least.”
Jemma yanked her arm from his grasp and marched into the house, slamming the door behind her.
Thane watched her walk off, surprised by her title. If she was The Lady Jemma Bryan, that meant her father held a title. Unsuccessful in his attempts at remembering his peerage lessons from school, he gave up and decided to question Weston about the matter later.
The man could have introduced her that way yesterday. Title or not, he still would have done his best to ruffle her feathers. Something about her provoked him and he had yet to decipher what it was.
Casually strolling into the kitchen, he found Cook and Greenfield busy with dinner preparations. “Mrs. Greenfield, might I trouble you for a glass of milk and one or two of those tasty little cookies you served yesterday?”
Entranced by his charm and good looks, the woman poured his milk and set the sweet pastries on a plate at the table.
Thane removed his Stetson, washed his hands at the sink, and took a seat at the table.
“I’m glad you enjoyed them, Mr. Jordan. We call them biscuits, we do.” Mrs. Greenfield, better known as Cook, smiled at him favorably while Greenfield began gathering the necessary dinnerware for the upcoming meal.
“Back home, biscuits are like bread, made with baking powder. They’re right tasty smothered in gravy or served with butter and jam. Where I grew up in the south, biscuits were a staple and my mama often made them with buttermilk. Mmm, mmm, but they were good.”
“Buttermilk, you say?” Cook glanced at him as she washed and sliced carrots.
“Yes, ma’am.” Thane helped himself to another cookie. He liked the jolly cook and her husband. They assured him they had located new positions and could start within a month. Glad they wouldn’t be left without work, he planned to leave them a generous bonus in their final pay envelopes.
“Pardon my asking, sir, but your accent seems to vary considerably. Does that come from living in the west?” Greenfield asked as he counted out the appropriate number of napkins.
“I reckon so.” Thane grinned, inflecting more of the southern accent he grew up with into his voice. When he left South Carolina, he tried to rid himself of his accent. For the most part, he had. Nonetheless, on occasion certain words or phrases brought it back.
When he finished his glass of milk, he set the glass and the plate from his cookies in the sink and bowed to Cook. She tittered and smiled, shooing him out of her kitchen.
Thane wandered down the hall, following the sound of a piano played quite enthusiastically without any real musical ability.
At the parlor door, he watched as Jack and Lily banged out a song on a beautiful piano he hadn’t noticed before. Weston read a newspaper while Rigsly lounged on the floor near the children.
“Do you sing, too?” Thane asked as Lily spun around on the piano bench and lifted her arms to him with a smile wreathing her sweet little face.
“Uncle Thane! Did you see me play? Jack and I like to play the piano.” Lily bounced in his arms and patted his cheeks.
“I did see you play, Lily. Have you been taking lessons?” Thane asked, enchanted with the impish child.
“Yes. Auntie Jemma is teaching me and Jack.” Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned close, whispering in his ear. “Jack doesn’t want to play because it’s for girls, but he doesn’t want to hurt Auntie Jemma’s feelings.”
“Is that right?” Thane asked when Lily leaned back and stared at him. “What would Jack enjoy doing?”
“Playing outside in the mud or riding a pony or playing knights with the sword Papa gave him.”
Thane quirked an eyebrow at Jack and the boy nodded his head.
“May I see your sword, Jack?”
“Yes. It’s in my room. I’ll go fetch it.” Jack jumped up and started out of the room, but Thane put a hand to his shoulder to stop him. “Why don’t you show it to me after dinner? If you two don’t mind the company, let’s go outside for a while since it’s still warm and not raining.”
“I think that’s a splendid idea, Mr. Jordan,” Weston encouraged, giving Thane an approving nod. “A little fresh air would be just the ticket.”
Thirty minutes later, Weston lifted his head from the newspaper he read and gazed out to a side lawn. Convinced his eyes deceived him, he hurried to the window and stared out at the mud-covered trio laughing and playing in a puddle left from yesterday’s rain. Thane held a filthy child in each arm and all three of them laughed unabashedly.
Unable to recall the last time he’d seen such happy smiles on Jack and Lily’s faces, he experienced concern over what their aunt would say upon discovering their disheveled and dirty state.
In a rush to get out the door, Weston came to a halt when Jemma called out to him from the bottom of the stairs.
“Weston, it’s been awfully quiet in the house. Are the children still with you?”
“No, madam, they are not. Their uncle took them for a walk. I was just going to step outside and see if they’d returned.” Weston edged toward the door, hoping to keep Jemma inside and somehow sneak the children upstairs to the bath before she discovered them.
“I’ll accompany you outside, then.” Jemma looped her arm around his and waited as he opened the door and escorted her outside. “It’s lovely out today, isn’t it?” She glanced over the green grass toward an arbor where fragrant flowers blossomed despite autumn’s approach.
“Quite.” Weston attempted to direct her around the opposite corner of the house, but Jemma tugged on his arm when she heard Lily and Jack’s laughter.
“The children sound most happy about something. I wonder what Mr. Jordan has found to entertain them so.”
Pleased with the children’s uplifted spirits, Jemma gasped in horror as she rounded the corner of the house and took in the children, covered from head to toe in mud. It even plastered Lily’s curls to her head.
“My heavens! What have you done to the children?” In the short time it took her to bathe and change after leaving Thane at the kitchen door, he’d turned the children into filthy urchins.
“Auntie Jemma! See me! I’m a mud princess. Uncle Thane said so. Don’t I look bee-you-tee-ful?” Lily struck a pose with one hand in the air and the other fisted at her waist. Thane laughed while Weston hid his chuckle behind a cough.
“Oh, poppet, you, um… you definitely appear, well…” Jemma focused her fiery gaze on the instigator of the trouble. “I hope your uncle realizes what a mess this will make in the house for someone to clean up.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Thane said, piercing Jemma with his stare, daring her to dash Jack and Lily’s fun. “Sometimes a boy just needs to get dirty and Lily couldn’t be left out.”
Jack nodded his head at Jemma in agreement, eyes sparkling with something that had been lacking since his father passed away.
Weston wisely backed away from the group, watching from a distance that guaranteed he would remain clean.
“Come play with us, Auntie Jemma. Please?” Lily grabbed for her hand, smearing mud along Jemma’s sleeve and skirt.
“Oh, Lily. I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s nearly time for dinner and it will surely take an hour to scrub all the mud from your hair.”
“Please, please?” Lily begged, yanking on Jemma’s hand again.
“No, poppet. Let’s get you inside.” Jemma tugged on Lily’s hand, but the little girl set her feet and stuck out a quivering lip while tears filled her big eyes.
“No. I want to play more. No, no, no!”
Jemma narrowed her eyes at Thane, blaming him for Lily’s bad temper. If it wasn’t soon averted, she had no doubt a full-fledged tantrum awaited them.
Thane knelt next to Lily and gently lifted her chin so she looked into his face. “Lily, your aunt is right. It’s almost time for dinner. Maybe we could eat outside since it’s still warm and the sun hasn’t yet set. I noticed a table in the kitchen garden behind the house.” Thane turned his gaze to Jemma. “Do you think we could have a picnic there and worry about cleaning up later? They can eat if we wash their hands and faces.”
“It’s completely barbaric and without a bit of…” Jemma stopped herself and let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Yes, I suppose that would be fine.” She reached for Lily’s hand again, but Thane scooped the child up in one arm. He bent and lifted Jack in the other and let him climb up onto his broad shoulder. Although Jack was old enough he didn’t like hugs and kisses, he didn’t mind the attention from his newly introduced uncle.
“I’ll see to the kids. We’ll meet you outside the kitchen in a few minutes.” Thane walked off in the direction of the stables with the children, both jabbering away while Jemma gaped at his retreating figure. Weston disappeared inside to warn cook they’d be dining in the garden.
A glance down at her soiled dress and muddy hand did nothing to cool her temper. Jemma marched inside the house to change — again.
The pump at the stables provided an acceptable place to wash the children’s hands and faces before Thane herded them to the house. Weston lounged in a chair, absorbing the sunshine and reading his earlier discarded paper.
Broadly grinning as they approached, Weston set the paper aside and motioned for Thane to take the wooden chair next to him while the children flopped down on the grass with Rigsly. “I thought for sure you’d caught the wrong end of the stick when Miss Bryan discovered what you and the children had done.”
Thane chuckled and rubbed a hand across his beard. “I don’t know about catching the wrong end of the stick, but I’m pretty sure she would have liked to beat me with one.”
Weston laughed and slapped Thane on the shoulder. “Right you are, my good man. It does the children good to enjoy the sunshine, laugh and play. Henry didn’t have much time for them with all his business endeavors and Miss Bryan focuses her training on indoor activities.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little mud squishing between their toes once in a while.” Thane grinned when Lily ran over and climbed onto his lap leaning her muddy head against his chest.
The more time he spent with the children, the more he warmed to the idea of taking them to America and making a life for them on his ranch. He had no experience dealing with children, but he already felt something pricking his heart every time he looked at Jack and Lily.
“Did you two have fun?” Thane asked, looking at Jack as he spoke.
“Oh, yes, Uncle Thane. It was grand.” Jack rolled onto his back and threw his arms open wide as he stared up at the blue sky.
“Just remember that this was a special treat and you can’t play in the mud without your aunt’s permission. Okay?”
“We ‘member, Uncle Thane.” Lily plucked at one of the buttons on his shirt as she jiggled her feet. “Can we please do it again now?”
“No, Lily.” Thane’s voice was firm but kind as he glanced up at the kitchen door when it opened. “See, here comes Cook and Greenfield with our dinner. I’m so hungry, I could eat a mud pie.”
Lily giggled. “You can’t eat mud.”
Crumpets & Cowpies: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Baker City Brides Book 1) Page 5
