A Western Romance: Rob Yancey: Taking the High Road (Book 10) (Western Mystery Romance Series Book 10)
Page 11
At last came the moment Rob had been waiting for and working toward. It was a balmy summer evening, with fireflies flitting around through the bushes outside his window and a faint breeze rustling the dry palm fronds. You could almost hear the roses whispering to each other, and the grass growing underfoot.
A tentative knock on his office door interrupted whatever he had been doing at the desk.
“Hello,” said Fiona.
She was dressed all in soft powder blue and, despite seeming tired, looked so delectable that his heart skittered a few beats and then slammed hard against his chest.
He managed a smile. “H’lo.”
“Please call off your dogs.”
Rob blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“Your family. I can’t eat, I can’t walk, I can’t shop, without running into some of them. There must be hundreds. How did they get to be so—so prolific?”
Laughing, he tucked his hands into both front pockets, the better to keep them away from her. “Somebody explained it to me once. Something about being Biblical, and repopulating the earth. Me, I think all my uncles are just a bunch of randy ol’ bull moose, doing what they wanna do and having a good time doing it.”
That took a minute to digest. He hoped he hadn’t frightened her off for good with such candor. Not to worry. He hadn’t.
“I wonder if I might come in?”
“Huh.” Considering, he slowly shook his head. “Nope.”
Her green eyes widened. Then narrowed. “I see. Very well, then. I apologize for—I apologize for—”
“Fiona.” He moved closer. Too close. “Don’t wanna compromise your reputation another time, after you’ve tried so hard to get it back. What are you apologizing for, darlin’?”
“Oh. Well.” Drawing in a deep breath, she suggested, with a return of her former sparkle, “For bothering you. I suppose we could—um—leave the office door open?”
“Sweetheart, you couldn’t be a bother if you tried. Huh.” He grinned. “Lemme re-think that. Could go both ways, couldn’t it? Yeah, I reckon we could leave the door open. You think maybe all my aunts and uncles could serve us as chaperones?”
She smiled up at him, with such delight that both dimples appeared. He was happy to see those dimples. He’d missed them.
“I think you could talk your aunts and uncles into doing anything you wanted them to do.”
“I think you’re right. So, c’mon into my parlor…”
“…said the spider to the fly.”
Leaving the door open caused no problem. Rob merely pulled two chairs together behind it, opposite the window, and sat her down in one. Then, taking the other, he proceeded to confess how much he loved her, that he needed her wit and charm and beauty and intelligence right beside him for every step of whatever their future held.
But that, mainly, once he had succeeded in his purpose of filling her bright eyes with tears and her pert little nose with sniffles, his life would be a complete ruination if she refused to become his wife. That he would go to hell in a hand basket. That he would take to drink and probably fall victim to all sorts of depravity, and worse.
By now she was giggling. Again, his intention to lighten a solemn moment. “What could be worse than depravity?” she wanted to know.
“I’m not sure. But I’d find it.” He covered both her hands with one of his, holding tight to keep her from getting away. “So, you hard-to-get red-haired hussy, why have you dilly-dallied around for so long, refusing even to listen to me? Don’t you know you made me crazy?”
Glancing down at their joined fingers, at the gentle strength of his grip, she shook her head slightly. “Rob, you asked my father about marriage. You didn’t ask me. I didn’t even feel part of the whole process. It was—it felt like—just a business deal, that the two of you cooked up.”
“After all this time, and all the effort I put into changing your mind, I hope you know different.
So—uh—what’s your answer?”
Even now he wasn’t sure. Was that a good thing, or a bad? He waited, breath held, every muscle stilled.
“It can only be…yes. Yes, Rob, I will marry you. Because—because I love you, too.”
“As it should be,” he growled. “And I can kiss you now, right?”
And so he did. But, then, he didn’t need her permission. Did he but know, he’d always had it.
X
Of all the Yancey clan weddings, some brides had chosen a simple ceremony, others a colorful ceremony, several a poignant ceremony. This one, when Rob waited for his future wife at the altar of The Second Presbyterian Church, was an elegant ceremony.
Fiona was wearing a virginal Paris-inspired gown of white taffeta, trimmed with flounces, the bodice high and the sleeves full, both touched by ruche mounting. Her veil, of tulle illusion, drifted from the crown of her mahogany hair down the back of her resplendent hoop skirt almost to the floor.
The picture she presented, walking sedately up the aisle beside her proud father, caused a clouding of Rob’s vision and a crackle in his throat. And Rob never shed tears, for any reason.
The finishing touch was, of course, their presiding minister: Uncle Nathaniel, all the way from his home in Virginia City.
Afterward, in the Golden Belle’s magnificent ballroom which had so recently seen Rob’s graduation celebration, some 200 guests circulated, imbibed, toasted, laughed, danced, and simply had a wonderful time.
It was left for Quint, the last remaining bachelor (like an endangered species, he mused) to wax nostalgic. All his brothers were married and settled, with a horde of children coming along to fulfill any prophecies for the next generation.
Briefly he wondered what their parents might have thought, seeing their sons and progeny now. How far these Yancey boys had come, not only in the physical sense, all the way from Charleston on the East Coast to San Francisco on the West, but in the sense of growth and financial security, as well.
Their empire encompassed hundreds of miles, and their business acumen could be considered a solid, roaring success, by any consideration.
The boys hadn’t started out with that kind of dream. Once glimpsed, however, every one of them had embraced it, made it their own, and forged ahead, by dint of intelligence and hard work.
Quint glanced around the room. He loved this ever-increasing, ever-exasperating, ever-challenging rowdy family of his. He would shed his life’s blood for any one of them.
His generation was getting older and grayer. The next generation was chomping at their heels. Soon it would be time to pass on the torch.
In his casting about, from the happy bridal couple standing near the enviable cake they were about to cut, to scattered groups of beautifully attired revelers, to the younger children causing mischief and mayhem off to the side, he caught a glimpse of someone from his past. Someone he had once known quite well.
Surely that couldn’t be Evalina Hewitt, from Charleston proper. Surely not.
He blinked and looked again, concentrating the dark eyes whose vision wasn’t quite as keen as it once was.
The woman smiled.
Encouraging. Quint winked.
Another smile. Then she winked back.
Quint nearly dropped his water glass (filled not with water but with spirits; some things never change). Hadn’t she been a modest, decorous maiden when last he’d seen her? Shouldn’t she have blushed, or turned away, or ignored his boldness completely?
In this magical fairyland place, on this magical starlit night, he could throw caution to the winds. Anything might happen. Absentmindedly setting down the glass—under which, luckily enough, happened to be a chair—he took a deep breath, settled the coat of his formal suit, and made his way through the crowd to where she sat at one of the smaller, more intimate tables.
“As I live and breathe,” he greeted her cordially. “It is. Evalina Hewitt. How did you happen to come halfway across the world?”
Her gloved hand indicated a nearby seat. “Hello, Quint. Join
me, won’t you?”
Pausing, he glanced around. “I don’t wanna interrupt, Evvie, if your escort will be comin’ back soon.”
Her blue eyes creased with mirth. “I’m here as the guest of friends, Quint. All by my lonesome. Until you came along.”
“Then I’m elated t’ keep you comp’ny.” He grinned. The same old slightly crooked grin that she had never forgotten. “As long as you’ll keep me, too.”
Small talk and free-flowing liquor: what would any wedding reception be without those two basics? For the next half-hour or so, they shared pleasantries, reminisces, laughter. He described the Yancey brothers’ gradual move to the opposite side of the continent; she described her own journey to California, leaving behind the grave of her young husband and a houseful of painful memories.
When the orchestra began tuning up, he rose and offered her a little bow. “Dance with me, darlin’?”
The lady laughed. “I never could resist that southern charm of yours, Quinton. Yes, I’d love to dance.”
As he swept her away into a slow fox trot, Quint wondered aloud about the simple happenstance that had brought her to his nephew’s wedding tonight, letting them meet again after all these years apart.
Evalina leaned back against his muscular arm to look up at him. “Some things are meant to be, don’t you think?”
He pulled her closer into his embrace for an intricate twirl. “I do think. I’ve missed you, Evvie. It’s been too damned long.”
“Oh, Quint, we had that silly quarrel…so silly I don’t even remember what it was about. And then I married so quickly, to try to forget you.”
“Did it work?” he asked quietly, steering her near an open door.
She shook her head with its simple but pretty coronet of chestnut hair streaked by lighter brown strands. “I never forgot you, Quint, dear. I never forgot how much we loved each other.”
“Not past tense, Evvie. Not past. I’ve never stopped lovin’ you.”
Although the form was far from modest, she rested her cheek against the lapel of his coat, that he might not see her tears. “Nor I you, Quint. I thought about you—prayed for you—every day.”
The music played on, but he stopped short, slipping one finger under her chin. “D’ you think—God, Evvie, might there still be—a chance for us?”
Her smile wavered and wobbled. Sunshine through raindrops. “Just as there’s always hope, Quint, there’s always—a chance…”
“Evvie. Dear heart. If we could, I’d make you mine here and now, right in this very room.”
The shakiness of that familiar chuckle proved the depth of his emotion. Hadn’t he already decided this was a magical starlit night? What better time and place than to bring a former love back into his life?
“However, there’s that little piece of paper called a marriage license that we’d have to get first, But will you—sweetheart, will you be my wife, as soon as it’s humanly possible t’ make the arrangements?”
“Oh, Quint.” The utter radiance on her face told it all. “You know I will.”
“Huh!” suddenly said a voice from behind one of the towering pillars. “So much for never getting married, you horny ol’ salamander.”
With a guffaw, Quint stretched out a long arm and hauled his nephew into the light. “And that’s how much you know, you horny young salamander. This lady is soon t’ become your ninth aunt, Robert Yancey. Show her some respect.”
The End
Thank You
I hope you enjoyed this western historical romance story and would love to know what you thought about it. If you have a moment to spare, I would appreciate it if you could leave a review of this book at Amazon. Your opinion goes a long way in helping others decide if a book is for them.
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Morris Fenris, Western Romance Publications House
About the Author
Morris Fenris was born into a poor family in the Fiji Islands. Thanks to his own grit, determination and the support of his loving parents, he was able to embark on a journey that has seen him attain a good education and work in many parts of the world.
Morris has been writing since childhood, drawing on his experiences in life and emulating the styles of his favorite authors.
Morris enjoys reading and writing in a wide range of genres and has plans for many more books. If you’d like to get in touch with this author, please message him on Twitter at #MorrisFenris or find him on Facebook.
Book List
Links to the previous 9 books in the Western Mystery Romance Series by Morris Fenris:
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-John-Yancey-Taking-ebook/dp/B00QH2FD98/ref=sr_1_49?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429900492&sr=1-49&keywords=western+romance
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-Matthew-Yancey-Taking-ebook/dp/B00RAT7DYK/ref=sr_1_18?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429900254&sr=1-18&keywords=western+romance
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-James-Yancey-Taking-ebook/dp/B00S3YP280/ref=sr_1_17?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429900217&sr=1-17&keywords=western+romance
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-Thomas-Yancey-Taking-ebook/dp/B00T727PKK/ref=sr_1_12?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429900111&sr=1-12&keywords=western+romance
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-Travis-Yancey-Taking-ebook/dp/B00U1DALKU/ref=sr_1_38?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429900422&sr=1-38&keywords=western+romance
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-Nathaniel-Yancey-Taking-ebook/dp/B00UZOWEIW/ref=sr_1_22?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429900254&sr=1-22&keywords=western+romance
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-Nathaniel-Yancey-Taking-ebook/dp/B00UZOWEIW/ref=sr_1_22?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1429900254&sr=1-22&keywords=western+romance
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-Yancey-Taking-Mystery-ebook/dp/B00X75EYUM/ref=sr_1_16?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1430905952&sr=1-16&keywords=western+romance
http://www.amazon.com/Western-Romance-Yancey-Taking-Mystery-ebook/dp/B00ZG8CI6K/ref=sr_1_74?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1434203757&sr=1-74&keywords=western+romance
Other romance stories by Morris Fenris is also available on Amazon.