“How about a muddy little girl named Lily?” Thane made a growling noise. Lily leaped from his lap and raced over to Jemma as she walked outside carrying a tray.
Burying her face in her aunt’s skirts, she started to cry. “Don’t let him eat me, Auntie Jemma. Don’t let him eat me!”
Hands full of the heavy tray, Jemma struggled to move close enough to the table to set it down with Lily clinging to her legs. Weston hurried to take the tray so Jemma could pick up Lily and cuddle her close.
“Sweetheart, your uncle is only teasing. He wouldn’t eat you or Jack or any of us.”
“Promise?” Lily asked, raising her tear-streaked face from Jemma’s shoulder.
“I promise, Lily. I’m sorry I scared you. I only meant to tease.” Thane stood close to Jemma, wanting to reach out to Lily but concerned he’d make her cry again. In light of how much he had to learn about children, he certainly hoped Miss Bryan would accept his proposal. “I would never hurt you or Jack.”
“Why?” Lily turned her head so she could study him.
“Because I wouldn’t.” Thane didn’t feel the need to admit he cared for the children more than he’d thought possible in just the day he’d known them.
“Why?” The little girl held his gaze.
“Lily…” Jack’s tone carried a warning his younger sister ignored.
“Why, Uncle Thane?”
Thane released a sigh, hesitant to voice his feelings, but wanting to reassure the children. “Because I love you, that’s why.”
“Okay.” Lily wiggled for Jemma to set her down and ran over to the table where Greenfield and Cook set out their meal.
Cook’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline as she took in Lily and Jack’s muddy appearances, as well as Thane. As she turned back to the kitchen door, she gave Jemma a glance and shook her head.
Until she rid Lily of her mud coating, the folly of putting on a clean dress forced Jemma to don the dress she’d worn to work in the garden. Scandalized by the upheaval Thane Jordan had wrought in such a short time, she hoped the escapade in the mud would be the last such uncivilized adventure.
Dinner was lively, with Weston carrying much of the conversation. When they finished eating, the solicitor, Greenfield, and Cook carted everything back inside. Thane helped Jack bathe in a tub set up in the laundry room near the kitchen while Jemma carted Lily to the upstairs bath.
After she tucked the children into bed, washed herself and dressed again, she went to her room to spend a few moments gathering her composure before meeting with Weston and Mr. Jordan in the formal parlor.
Still uncertain what decision she should make, Jemma knew she needed to make one soon. Lost in her thoughts, she opened her bedroom door, stepped into the hall, and bumped into Thane. He exited the bath, wearing nothing but a pair of clean trousers made of a fabric she’d learned was denim.
Shocked at the sight of his shirtless chest, firm with muscles and covered in tan skin, her gaze dropped down to his snug pants then traveled back up to his head. Water droplets clung to his hair and a smile played about the corners of his mouth.
“Merciful heavens, Mr. Jordan! You most certainly should not traipse about the house in such a state.” Jemma turned her back to him and stared at the wall while heat seared her cheeks. The sight of his broad chest, dusted with golden hair, filled her vision, even when she squeezed her eyes shut.
“I’m out of clean shirts. I was going to see if I could rustle up one of Henry’s old shirts to wear until I can get some laundry done.”
“Leave your soiled things in the laundry room. Cook will see to them tomorrow. In the meantime, Henry’s clothes are still in his room. If you care to accompany me, I’ll see if we can find something.”
Swiftly walking down the hall, Jemma opened the door to a large bedroom decorated in shades of navy and cream. She opened the door to a closet and pulled out a shirt, holding it behind her. “Try this on.”
Thane worked his arms into the too-tight sleeves but couldn’t get the buttons to meet over his chest.
“Guess I’m a little bigger than Henry.” Thane’s attempts at extricating himself from the shirt proved fruitless. Unable to slide the sleeves off his muscular upper arms, a grunt escaped as he worked to free himself.
Intrigued by the rustling noises he made, Jemma cast a glance over her shoulder. The sight of him ensnared by the ill-fitting garment tipped her mouth up into a smile.
Slowly turning around, she folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. “Perhaps I should leave you in such a state. You don’t seem nearly as menacing or daunting when you spin around in circles like that.”
Thane narrowed his gaze and glared at her. “If you’re just going to stand there gawking, you might as well help get this thing off me.”
Every social grace instilled in Jemma from the time she was Lily’s age urged her to leave the room and not look back. However, she ignored the impropriety of being in a bedroom with a half-dressed man she’d known only twenty-four hours and stepped behind Thane, tugging on the shirt.
The more he struggled, the more she fought down her giggles until they burst forth like bubbles, popping around him in a delightful sound.
“Are you even trying to help?” He smirked at her over his shoulder.
“Yes, but you remind me of Lily. She is forever trying to yank off her dresses and getting them stuck halfway then she runs screaming through the house, sure it’s trying to smother her to death.”
Thane chuckled. “I know how she feels.”
Jemma gave one sleeve a vigorous tug and the force of the motion knocked her backward onto the bed. Since the sleeve still encased Thane’s arm, he tumbled down on top of her, causing her to suck in a gulp of air.
His warmth seeped into her while his masculine, enticing scent flooded her senses, making her take another deep breath. In mesmerized fascination, she watched as a muscle bunched in his jaw and his eyes went from cool to molten.
Her gaze roved past his chin and down his neck as she took in his taut, tan muscles. A swarm of butterflies burst into a frenzied flight in her stomach and she felt slightly lightheaded.
Accustomed to being around men who dressed properly, with jackets and waistcoats over their shirts, she’d only ever seen Henry or her father in shirtsleeves a few times. She’d never seen a grown man shirtless before and admired the awe-inspiring form of Thane. Desperately wanting to touch one of his impressive muscles, to discover what it felt like beneath her hands, Jemma clenched her fingers together.
As she lifted her gaze to his face again, she wondered what it would feel like to have his bearded cheek pressed to hers. Jemma battled the urge to pull his face down and satisfy her curiosity.
Aware of her perusal of his upper anatomy, Thane held still, rapturously rooted to the spot. Jemma’s soft form fit so well against his angular planes as he breathed in her feminine, alluring fragrance.
He stared down into the warm coppery depths of her eyes and took note of the amber flames flickering there. What little sense he had left dissipated when she parted her lips and he began to lower his head to hers.
“Might I assume you two have resolved matters?” Weston asked from the door. Jemma squeaked with surprise while Thane rolled off the bed and to his feet.
“No, you may not assume such a thing.” Jemma scrambled to stand and almost fell to the floor as her skirts twisted around her legs. Thane reached out a hand to steady her but she jerked her arm away. “Mr. Jordan was at a loss for a clean garment to wear and we were simply trying to find something of Henry’s. Apparently, they are not the same size.”
“Apparently.” Weston struggled to hide his grin. “I’ve got a shirt you can borrow, my good man. I think I’m probably closer to your size than your brother.”
“Thank you, sir.” Thane ripped the sleeves from Henry’s shirt and handed the ruined garment to Jemma before following Weston from the room.
Staring at the fabric balled in her hand, Jemma fought the
need to fan her face and cool her heated cheeks. She had no idea men looked so… virile beneath their clothes. Or perhaps it was just Thane Jordan.
After tossing the shirt on the rumpled bed, Jemma rushed from the room and down the stairs, even less certain what her decision should be.
Chapter Five
Jemma carried a tea tray into the parlor and set it on a low table in front of the settee. Rigsly followed her, plunking down on the floor next to her as she took a seat and settled her skirts.
“Whatever shall I do, Risgly? What do you want to do?” The dog lifted his head and blinked his dark brown eyes at her, woofing softly.
“What does that mean, boy? I still have not fine-tuned my ability to speak canine.” Jemma smiled and rubbed the dog’s head.
Male voices preceded Weston and Thane into the room, giving Jemma time to neatly fold her hands on her lap and straighten her spine.
The men appeared to be in good spirits as they strode in, both smiling. Thane wore one of Weston’s shirts. It appeared too small, but at least he could button it across his chest.
Averting her gaze from his chest to the tea in front of her, she poured three cups and handed one to Weston then Thane before taking a cup and saucer in her hand.
“Now, then, shall we discuss the proposal Mr. Jordan made this morning and resolve all this uncertainty?” Weston asked after taking a drink from his cup and returning it and the saucer to the table beside him.
“Have you given our conversation any consideration, Miss Bryan?” Thane asked, watching her closely. Although she maintained her perfect posture, he detected a slight squirm as she sat on one end of the settee. Rigsly must have sensed her discomfort, because the dog rose to his feet and plopped his big head on her lap, whimpering.
She lifted one hand and absently stroked his head while setting down her tea with the other.
Lady Jemma Bryan might be a freethinking nuisance, but she was one of the most graceful and polished women Thane had ever met. As he admired the curve of her cheek, the length of her neck, the elegant form of her fingers, he unexpectedly wished he could be the dog.
Aggravated by his thoughts, he returned his gaze to her face, looking at her expectantly as he awaited her response. “Would you consider marrying me and moving to my ranch in America, for the sake of the children?”
“I’ve done little else but consider it today.” She dropped her gaze to her lap, realizing she’d examined every alternative.
Her biggest dilemma didn’t stem from leaving everything she’d ever known, including her friends and heritage. She had no fear of crossing the ocean or traveling across the vast country of America to a remote ranch in Oregon. Grave concerns about living somewhere that was no doubt primitive with a lack of civilized accoutrements didn’t bother her.
The one thing that gave her pause, made her stomach roil with nervous energy and her thoughts whirl like a feather in a windstorm, was the man sitting across from her with his unyielding gaze fastened on her face.
Thane Jordan made her uncomfortable, infuriated, and entirely fascinated.
Would he treat her with respect as his wife? Would he continue to goad her until her anger sparked and she lost control of her ability to bite her tongue as she’d already done repeatedly since they’d met the previous afternoon?
Would he keep his promise their marriage would be in name only? Would he attempt to enforce his husbandly rights?
Would he, indeed, provide for her and the children? She knew Henry left him a wealthy man. Would he hoard the money or waste it on gambling, drinking, and lasciviousness?
Would he fill the role of a father to Lily and Jack or continue to behave as the indulgent uncle who spoiled them? After spending thirty minutes on her knees next to the bathtub scrubbing mud off Lily, she hoped he didn’t plan to do such irresponsible things often. An occasional frivolous moment without regard to the consequences could be accepted, but she couldn’t deal with such behavior daily. It would spoil the children and leave them completely unmanageable.
There was also the matter of Thane’s physical presence. He commanded attention, even in his working clothes with unkempt hair and that scruffy beard. Thoughts of seeing him without his shirt, of feeling his weight against hers on the bed, filled her face with heat and infused her cheeks with color.
“Come now, Miss Bryan, with those pink cheeks you look as though you’re indulging in inappropriate thoughts.” Thane’s tone was teasing but his words made her even more ill at ease.
Jemma opened her mouth to speak, snapped it closed, and tried again but failed to produce a sound beyond a sigh.
Much to her dismay, Thane rose from his chair and sat next to her. He took the hand not resting on Rigsly’s head into his and looked down at her face.
The smile he gave her held compassion and care, unlike the smug smirks she had quickly grown to expect.
“Miss Bryan, perhaps it would set your mind at ease if you voice your concerns and we discuss them before you make a decision.”
She nodded her head, but found it impossible to vocalize even one of her questions with him sitting at her side.
“Why?” she finally asked, lifting her gaze to Thane’s.
“Why?” he asked, confused. “Why did I ask you to marry me?”
“Yes.”
“Because of the children.” Thane continued to hold her hand but his eyes focused on a spot in the distance, something only he could see. “Coming here and finding Henry really and truly gone made me realize I don’t want to lose my last connection to him, to my family. Henry was all I thought I had left and now there are Jack and Lily. I want to help them grow up to be good people.”
Jemma remained silent so Thane continued speaking. “I don’t know a thing about raising kids or having a wife, but I’m willing to learn, for their sakes. It won’t be easy, and my ranch is nothing like this cottage, but I promise you’ll never go hungry and life there will be busy and fulfilling.” He looked at her again as he finished speaking.
As she considered his words, Jemma slowly nodded her head. “What do you expect of me?”
“To help raise the kids, keep up the house, prepare meals. I wouldn’t expect you to help outside on the ranch. You can plant flowers or a garden in the spring, if you’re of a mind to. If I failed to make it clear this morning, I don’t expect our marriage to be anything except a business arrangement of sorts. I give you my word it would be in name only, unless you decide otherwise.”
She took a moment to study him, to make sure he was sincere. “What will I be allowed to bring with me?”
Thane glanced around the room, at the dog with his head contentedly nestled on her lap, and released a sigh. He would probably regret it later, but he smiled at her with an open expression.
“What do you want to bring?”
“A few of the household items that belonged to my family. My wardrobe, of course, and the children’s things. It would be prudent to pack some of Jane and Henry’s things the children might like to have when they are grown.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Thane said, anticipating a much longer list. “Anything else?”
She gave him an imploring glance. “If it isn’t too much to ask, I’d also like to take Rigsly and my horse.”
“You may have your dog and horse, although getting that dog to the ranch is going to be interesting. Will he do well in an arid climate?”
“His breed hunts both waterfowl and upland game. Rigsly should do fine and I thank you for agreeing to take him along. He is part of the family to the children and it would break their hearts to leave him behind.”
Thane nodded in agreement and glanced at Weston. The man winked encouragingly before taking another sip of his tea. “Any other questions that you’d like answered, Miss Bryan?”
“How would you treat me?” Jemma asked. The question and her voice held an almost child-like tone.
“Treat you? What do you mean?” Thane’s brows furrowed together, creating twin vertical
lines down the center of his forehead.
“Will you continue to insult me, call me names, and test my patience?”
Thane laughed and leaned back against the cushions of the settee. “Most likely. You and I get along about like two cats with their tails tied together and stuffed in a gunnysack. Have no fear, I will treat you as a woman I respect and admire. It’s in my nature to tease and prod, and I’ve always been able to provoke people past the limit of their patience. Call it a gift.”
Jemma’s mouth turned upward, but she shook her head. “How am I to know you wouldn’t insult me in front of others, as you’ve done here?”
“It’s all family here, isn’t it? At least I would consider Weston part of your family. Rest assured, I will treat you with the utmost consideration around others. At home, though, you’ll just have to get used to me ruffling your bloomers.”
Weston howled with laughter while Jemma drew in a shocked gasp. “Sir! That is no way to speak to a lady.”
“To any lady, perhaps not, but I think it’ll do for you Lady Jemma.” Thane lifted the back of her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her delicate skin. “Will you please marry me?”
Despite her head telling her to run up to her room and lock the door, Jemma lifted her gaze to Thane’s and offered him a small smile. “Yes, I believe I shall marry you.” The feel of his hand holding hers made her skin tingle. However, the touch of his warm lips and soft beard on the back of her hand made feelings she’d never experienced course through her veins and settle in the pit of her stomach.
Afraid of what she had just agreed to do, she pulled her hand away and lifted her cup of lukewarm tea. She hoped Thane Jordan proved to be a man of his word.
“What do you mean by ‘read the banns at church Sunday,’ Weston? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Thane plunked down his cup of tea at breakfast the next morning and stared at the solicitor. At least Weston waited until the children left the table to bring up a topic that would no doubt result in he and Jemma butting heads once again.
Crumpets & Cowpies: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Baker City Brides Book 1) Page 6
