Three weeks later...
The morning after their first night back at the ranch house, Mandy descended the main staircase with Adam, but once she reached the bottom, she found she couldn’t bring herself to step inside the kitchen, despite the tantalizing aroma of bacon sizzling in a pan. The sound of an older man humming to himself filtered out from the kitchen entrance.
But it wasn’t a happy sounding tune.
In fact, it filled her with a certain sense of melancholy.
Which was not what she’d hoped to feel on her first full day in Adam’s house. All the excitement and promise she’d felt building inside her on their wedding trip fell to her toes like a rock.
Though Adam gave her an encouraging smile and attempted to take her arm to lead her in, she held back and began to pace the wide foyer. She barely noticed the tall ceiling above her or the handsome earthy wood tones of a man’s house. Or the early morning light streaming in from the front windows.
Adam had given her the occasional tour of the property during their engagement, of course, but this was her first real introduction to his home. As their home. They’d traveled to the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs for an extended wedding trip immediately after the reception. And then before they returned home, Adam’s good friend Ben and Ben’s new wife, Laurel, had insisted they stay with them at Castle Ranch for several days.
By the time Mandy and Adam returned to Cross Creek last night, it had been well after dark, so they’d eaten a late dinner of fragrant chicken soup and buttered toast, just the two of them, in an intimate dining room lit with candles. Mandy had only met Adam’s housekeeper, Cookee, briefly. Then the older man had disappeared to his rooms, obviously wishing to give them some privacy.
Cookee hadn’t seemed particularly pleased to have her here. Not precisely put-upon, but not precisely warm and welcoming either. The person humming in the kitchen was most likely him, preparing breakfast—for the ranch hands, who’d be arriving soon.
Mandy felt Adam’s eyes following her every step, his expression bemused and not a little confused.
“Mandy?” he asked, much too loudly for her comfort. “What’s the matter?”
“What about your men?” she whispered back. “What if they don’t like me? What if—”
Adam caught her hands in his, stopping her. “They’ll treat you with respect, or else they’ll answer to me.”
Mandy felt a little thrill of danger run through her at the look in his eyes. His voice was so low and serious. She believed him. She wouldn’t want to be in his men’s boots if they ever tried to cross him.
He’s going to do just fine as a rancher, she thought with just a trace of smugness, hoping she could take at least some of the credit for his newfound confidence.
“And just what would you do?” she teased, giving her husband an appreciative look. He certainly looked every inch the rugged cowboy boss in his denims, polished boots, and leather vest.
“You don’t want to know.” Adam’s gaze turned to just shy of smoldering as it slid over her from head to toe. Before she had a chance to fan herself properly, he pulled her in for a quick embrace. He only released her, reluctantly, at the sound of the back door swinging open and his ranch hands filing in, making a thudding noise with their boots.
It sounded like a hundred men, though Adam had told her there were only ten.
“Ready?” he asked her.
“No.”
He laughed and tweaked her nose. “Never let them see your fear,” he said, teasing her now.
He slid a hand around her waist and led her into the kitchen. He kept hold of her through the introductions—would she ever learn all the men’s names? And he held her hand all the way through their hearty breakfast, even though some of his men found this endlessly amusing. A couple of the younger men noticeably smirked and elbowed each other. She recognized them as the two who had run the three-legged race against them.
When Adam leveled a warning gaze on them, the two of them quickly wiped the smirks off their faces. It all seemed in good fun actually, but still Mandy squirmed.
Mandy ate her meal, tasting only dry sawdust instead of the delicious food that Cookee had apparently prepared. Crisp bacon, biscuits, fluffy eggs—more food than even Darby usually ate. Never had she felt so awkwardly out of place, so painfully aware of her every movement and the watchful gazes of the men. There was hardly a word spoken that didn’t have to do with passing the butter or blackberry jam.
At last, all the men pushed back their benches and rose, grabbing their hats and pressing them onto the crowns of their heads as they headed for the back door. Mandy had to rise too since she was also sitting on the bench around the corner from Adam, whose place was at the head of the table. He gathered her hand in his, smoothing his thumb across the sensitive skin on the back of her hand. It was as if he was reminding her they were in this together.
Mandy held tightly to Adam, silently repeating his advice to show no fear. They were really just a bunch of men. She’d grown up around ranch hands. But she didn’t know these men. And she found she desperately wanted them to like her.
The man leading the way out paused in the doorway. The rest of the men piled up behind him. The leader looked back. Mandy recognized him. Adam had introduced him as Brandt earlier—joking that he’d finally convinced the man to permanently fill the role of ranch foreman.
Brandt touched the brim of his hat now and said, “Boss,” in a respectful tone. He nodded to Mandy too and said, “Ma’am.”
Adam squeezed her fingers. She had the feeling he was nearly as surprised as she was, but he simply dismissed the man with a nod of respect.
Mandy stood straighter at Adam’s side. As the rest of the ranch hands followed suit and left with a “Boss” and a “Ma’am,” she had to press her lips together to keep herself from smiling too wide. She’d never been called Ma’am before. It certainly felt strange. And made her feel ever-so-slightly older.
Finally, the last of the ranch hands, a blond young man named Cal, gave his parting words with a good-natured grin, as if he’d found the parade before him amusing. Mandy would have to say she agreed. She watched as the young man closed the door behind him with a thud. That left her and Adam in the now empty-feeling kitchen with only Cookee for company. The housekeeper hadn’t taken a seat, not even once, the entire meal.
Mandy collected her plate and utensils—and, feeling very lighthearted and wifely all of a sudden—she gathered Adam’s dishes as well.
“You don’t have to do that,” Adam protested. “Your first day here.”
“I want to.” Mandy smiled at him. “I’m not a guest, after all.”
“No, that you are not.” He gave her an appealingly crooked smile that showed a dimple in his cheek. It might’ve been her imagination, but she felt he just barely resisted the urge to pull her into his lap.
Cookee missed none of this. Throughout the “parade,” he’d stood by with his back to the sink, his arms folded across his massive barrel chest. It was a rather intimidating pose, Mandy thought. He was eying Adam now in an all-knowing manner, his expression inscrutable.
Mandy’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. She quickly carried the dishes to the sink and slid them into the water, just as she’d seen the ranch hands do, only she took care not to drop them in willy-nilly.
Cookee didn’t budge. He didn’t move aside politely to allow her access to the sink. In fact, he seemed to be measuring her up. He reminded her unexpectedly of a pirate, despite the neatly tied white apron around his waist and the sudsy dishwater rising up in the basin behind him. For a moment, the three of them fell silent. It was so quiet Mandy could hear the crinkly sound of soap bubbles foaming up and breaking.
A sudden thought struck her. In the future, would Cookee expect her to make breakfast for all the ranch hands—ten hungry men? She moistened her lips. Swallowed. The thought made her incredibly nervous.
“I can’t cook,” Mandy confessed before she lost her nerve. She forced herself
not to retreat to Adam’s side, though Cookee loomed large as a mountain right beside her. He somehow managed to make her feel short even though they were practically the same height.
“I burn everything,” she added, swallowing again.
Cookee raised one brow. With his shiny bald head, the one arched brow, and the spattering of silvery stubble on his chin, he looked even more like a pirate. All he needed was a red kerchief to tie around his forehead.
“I’m not much good with laundry either.” There, the whole truth was out. All her miserable feminine failures.
To her surprise, the older man broke into a wide smile, showing one chipped front tooth. It was really quite endearing. He didn’t look nearly so intimidating.
“We’re going to get along just fine then,” he said, nodding once. He turned to his dishes, whistling as he began scrubbing a pan with a wire brush. She recognized the tune, an old roundup trail song her father liked to sing. It made her feel right at home.
As she stepped back, Adam came up beside her. He slipped an arm around her and tugged her close to his side. He angled his head to Cookee’s back and offered her a wryly apologetic grimace that almost made her giggle. It was as if he were saying Cookee was a character, but he wasn’t so bad once you got to know him.
Mandy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She had a new life—with the love of her life, Adam “Banks” Booker, at her side. And she had ten ranch hands and a man called Cookee too—a man who’d seemed almost happy that she couldn’t cook and was mostly a failure at laundry. She smiled and leaned her head against Adam’s shoulder. He tightened his arm around her waist, somehow managing to make her feel small and delicate.
“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and intimate.
Adam led Mandy out of the kitchen, sliding his hand down to clasp hers. She followed, embarrassed, fully expecting Cookee to turn around any second and catch them acting like a couple of sweethearts. Which, she supposed, they were.
“Where are we going?” she whispered. The sound of her voice echoed in the open space of the foyer. She held back a laugh, feeling silly. Why was she trying to be so quiet? Because of Adam’s behavior, she supposed. Leading her away stealthily, like they were doing something secretive.
“You’ll see.”
That was a rather enticing reply.
He drew her into the dining room where they’d eaten last night. In the daylight, it seemed more formal than the rest of the house, though small in comparison to the kitchen. He sat her down in one chair. Then took the chair next to hers. He just sat there looking at her.
“What?” She checked her hair for stray flyaways, but it seemed fine. As far as she could tell without a mirror.
“I’ve just wanted to do this for a while.” He looked around the room with a satisfied air.
Mandy looked around too, curious. It was definitely a man’s house, with lots of rich dark wood and masculine colors, but she didn’t mind so much. Maybe she could find one corner for herself to write her column. And maybe Mama would allow her to have the pale blue Oriental rug from her old bedroom back home, the one she liked so much... It was so pillowy soft.
Daisy must have finally awakened, for she trailed in after them, her nails clicking against the wood floor. Papa had relented, finally, after a great show of reluctance, and said Mandy could have her. With Daisy here, the house felt more...complete. Well, almost, for there would be children someday, of course. Maybe one of each if they were lucky: a boy and a girl. A boy they could name Darby, perhaps. And a girl they could name anything they wished. Mandy smiled softly to herself as she leaned down to scratch behind Daisy’s ear, stroking the soft downy puppyish fur there.
Adam smiled, snatching her attention back to him. He sat back, lacing his fingers behind his head. He almost looked like she imagined a banker might after a successful board meeting. His gaze rested on her in an admiring way. And then his eyes shifted to something far warmer.
“What’s that look for?” She lifted a hand to fan herself.
“This. It just feels right.”
“Oh,” she said intelligently. She seemed to have lost her facility for speech all of a sudden.
“Doesn’t it? Feel right, I mean?” he asked, obviously requiring a better answer.
“It’s perfect,” she said truthfully. “I’m with you. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
That response seemed to please him for he leaned over to kiss her cheek, and took a few minutes just to nuzzle her ear and neck, making her laugh a trifle breathlessly. He took her by the hand and, in a similar fashion as before, pulled her into the wide foyer with its pine floors. There, he wrapped his arms around her and stood looking into her face. He wore that same air of satisfaction as he bent to mold his lips to hers for a few more breathless moments.
“But Cookee—” Mandy protested softly.
“Cookee can’t see... Can you, Cookee?” Adam directed the question back through the wide open entryway into the kitchen. Daisy wandered into the space between the foyer and the kitchen as Adam spoke. As if satisfied that she could see everyone, she flopped noisily onto the floor and watched Mandy with an air of doggy contentment. Dear Daisy, her comforting shadow.
“Nope,” came the delayed answer from the kitchen. Pots clanged together. Cookee could be heard singing to himself.
“See? What did I tell you?” Adam said.
Mandy pursed her lips, prepared to protest.
Before she could say anything, her husband grasped her waist and lifted her, spinning her around and around. As if she weighed nothing. As if she were small and petite like her sisters. Mandy pointed her toes to reach the floor but only found air. She was well and truly off the ground. She gave a muffled cry.
“Adam!” she protested, hopefully not loud enough for Cookee to hear.
When she finally came back to earth, gasping and laughing helplessly, her hands still braced on his shoulders, she asked, “Why’d you do that?”
Adam gave her a slightly wolfish grin that made her heart race even faster than it already was. He really did have the most attractive smile. And those eyes of his. Eyes that looked right into her soul. Gracious. Her heart gave an unsteady little extra bump.
He tapped the wedding band on her ring finger and lifted her hand to press a kiss there too.
“Because I can.”
She giggled and swatted him on the shoulder. She braced herself to be swung off the ground and said, “Do it again.”
And he did.
Also By Lena Goldfinch
THE BRIDES SERIES
The Unexpected Bride
Sleigh Bells & Mistletoe
The Bartered Bride
Only the Heart Knows
* * *
THE BARTERED BRIDE
Colorado 1880
Jem Wheeler has always been a survivor. He just wants to make a fresh start in Colorado Springs after the loss of his wife. But then he happens upon a young mute woman being sold off to the highest bidder. He wasn't looking for a mail-order bride. He wasn't looking to rescue anyone either. But desperate circumstances can drive a good man to do things he hadn't planned on doing...
* * *
When Jem steps into Annie's life, she's not expecting anyone to save her. Mute from birth, she's just using all her wits to survive. All she's ever really wanted is a family of her own. For someone to see her. To look at her long enough to hear the things she can't say.
* * *
Can Annie finally break through the silence to win Jem's heart?
* * *
Excerpt
Jem took the apple core from his daughter and passed her one of the remaining crackers with a piece of cheese on it. Mae munched that down and looked to him immediately for another, the last one.
He gave it to her, then showed her his empty hands.
She frowned. “More?”
“No more,” Jem said, and showed her his empty hands again, making a bigger gesture out of it, as if
the little girl was accusing him of hiding some.
If Annie weren’t so intent on eating her share of cheese and crackers she might have smiled at the sight of them, one of the most dangerous men she’d ever seen sitting side by side with that tiny little girl. They made quite a mismatched pair.
Mae looked over at Annie, at the last cracker in her hand and the last bit of cheese.
Annie gulped down the mouthful she was chewing. She looked down at the last of her meal and back at the little girl. To her shame, she didn’t want to give up her last cracker. She could barely remember the last meal she’d eaten.
“That’s Annie’s food,” Jem admonished the little girl. “You’ve had yours.”
Mae bit her lip. She glanced down at her lap, then back at Annie again.
I can share, Annie attempted to tell Mae with her eyes alone. She snapped her cracker in half--simply unable to bear parting with the whole thing--and passed it across to the little girl. Mae took it and popped the whole thing in her mouth, making Annie smile.
“Mae!” her father said.
She looked at him wide-eyed, her mouth full of cracker. “Whaf dafdda?” she said, muffled, spraying a few cracker crumbs onto his trousers.
He closed his eyes briefly and brushed them off. “You didn’t have to give her any,” he said to Annie, “but thanks.”
Annie grunted, her way of saying she didn’t mind that much. She looked down quickly and finished her last bit of food. The crackers had been crispy and the cheese silky and smooth. They’d tasted like heaven.
“You must be thirsty,” he said. “Do you mind sharing?”
She shook her head and automatically lifted two fingers
“Two’s no?” he asked.
She nodded, pleased, and lifted one finger. She’d grown up sending signals through the floor of the Ruskins’ house, one stomp for yes, two for no. It came natural as rain now.
“And one’s yes,” he said, catching on quick.
Only the Heart Knows Page 25
