Declan watched the uppity stranger stomp away and kept his arms crossed until his hands stopped shaking. The sight of a woman dressed in green moving into the path of the runaway horse brought back the tragedy of Moira’s death. His breath locked in his chest. Instinct kicked in, rushing energy to his tired body, and Declan had to protect this stranger. Within seconds, he’d noticed the quality of the fabric within his grasp and the exotic scent of jasmine wafting from her clothes. Once she was safe, he planned to apologize for any roughness…until she kicked him square in the shin. Then all bets were off.
That one was too full of herself, but my, how her peach-colored lips had pooched and curled as she railed. A red-blooded man couldn’t help but notice. Heaving out a breath, he turned and headed toward his original destination—Helsa’s Bath House. Lying in a tub of warm water was just the thing to soothe his tight muscles. And maybe help calm his heart that still beat faster than normal.
An hour later, Declan walked downstairs from his room, wrenching the last button into place on his shirt sleeve. He’d intended to wear the light green one that garnered appreciative comments about how it accented his eyes. But as he pulled it on, he noticed the right sleeve’s cuff was frayed. So, he wore his yellow shirt which had a coffee stain below the bottom button, but he figured no one would notice. Glancing down, he spotted sawdust on the tops of his boots and ran each on the back of his opposite calf.
Grumbling from the sitting room reached his ears. Only five brides arrived this afternoon. As his da would say, nothing worth having comes easy. At the thought of a little competition, he refrained from rubbing his hands together. “Well, men, shall we head over now?” When he stepped outside the bunkhouse, he grabbed the bail of an oil lantern from a shelf. “A few of these will come in handy later.”
Several men from his crew joined the walk over the bridge to the Community Church for the evening social. After securing his lantern at the base of the wall, Declan entered the building and took a position to the side of the door and glanced around. Wooden pews stood along the long walls of the room. A rectangular table held a cut-crystal punch bowl and plates of baked goods. Several tables with decks of cards occupied one part of the room while additional chairs dotted the wooden floor in small groupings.
Across the room, he spotted Royce talking with a roundish, rather intent, woman carrying several pieces of paper in front of her. She kept glancing between a gaggle of women who stood off to one side and the men ringing the room’s perimeter.
“Declan, I just had a terrible thought.” Jared claimed the floor to his boss’s right. “We never talked much about the woman we were writing to. What if you and I are paired with the same bride?”
Yep, count on Jared to see a negative side. At this late hour, did Declan want to know? Verifying the fact served no purpose. “Guess we’ll be surprised if ʼtis so.”
A whistle blared three long tweets. “Evening, everyone.” Royce gave a big overhead wave from where he stood on the dais.
Conversations stopped and those at the edge of the room moved a few feet closer. Declan liked his spot and waited, figuring he’d be told where to be soon enough.
“As you all know, I served as part of the welcoming committee for five young ladies to town this afternoon. We all went on a tour of Jubilee Springs in the company surreys. Tonight, you gents will meet the woman you’ve been writing to and—” He leaned to listen to the chestnut-haired woman who frowned and shook her head. “Or who has been determined to be a potential match. Several types of entertainment are here to get those conversations rolling. Missus Alwin and her Ladies’ Auxiliary have provided refreshments, and—” He jerked at the wagging finger the woman at his side moved in front of his face then he glanced down. “Uh, hold off on the refreshments for now—apparently they are part of a getting-acquainted game. I’m helping Missus Millard, the matchmaker, with pointing out the participating bachelors so be patient until we locate you.”
For the fourth time in half that many minutes, Declan glanced over at the tight group of unfamiliar women. He truly wasn’t looking for the woman wearing a green hat. So why did disappointment pinch his chest when he didn’t see her?
Minna Alwin, the pastor’s wife, approached the brides and gestured as she spoke. Those around her turned to listen.
Curiosity got the better of Declan, and he strolled to within earshot.
“Come.” The brown-haired woman waved a beckoning hand. “Mister Brinks, I need you for this next game called Three Questions. I want you to be the first to think about one of your favorite activitiesmake sure it is something appropriate to share with our guestsand the ladies will ask three questions before they guess what the activity is. The first to make the correct guess will go with you to the refreshment table.”
“Do you do it indoors or outdoors?” A blonde with sharp features spoke.
“Uh, huh.” Missus Alwin lifted a pointed finger. “Remember, form the question to produce a yes or no answer.”
“MacNeill.”
Declan turned to spot his boss approaching with the harried-looking woman. “Mister Bainbridge.” He’d always figured the mine owner preferred being formal in social settings.
“May I present Missus Millard, owner of the Colorado Bridal Agency?” Royce turned to gaze at the woman and smiled. “Lizett, this gentleman is Declan MacNeill.”
“Ma’am.” Declan nodded and lifted a finger to where his hat brim would be.
“Excuse me, I see the other potential groom for this pairing. I’ll be right back.” Royce headed off toward the back of the room.
“Pleased to meet you, Mister MacNeill. I hope you’ve enjoyed the correspondence you’ve had with…” She glanced down at the papers in her hands, and her lips pressed into a tight line. “Oh, well.”
What does that mean? His gut tightened, and he shifted his stance. Of course, he knew the prospective brides couldn’t all be perfect. Not that he expected any woman to match up to his beloved Moira.
“Here’s Byron Latham for you, Lizett.” Royce stopped close enough to shift the skirts of her blue dress and gazed at the matchmaker.
“Thank you, Royce.” She beamed a smile at the tall man. “Let me collect the lady in question.”
Declan forced a blank expression and accepted Latham’s obligatory handshake. So this matchmaker decided he and Latham were suited for the same woman? Interesting. If he were to pick a man on either mining crew who was his polar opposite, that man would be Latham, with his youthful pranks and lack of attention to detail. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he turned and stiffened. Of all the rotten luck.
“You!” The auburn-haired woman from the afternoon incident glared daggers. She crossed her arms and harrumphed. A second later, she settled her clasped hands at her waist and mashed her lips together.
Missus Millard frowned and glanced at the woman at her side then flashed a bright smile. “Misters Latham and MacNeill, I present the lady who has been matched as your potential bride, Miss Aurelia Northcliffe.” She held out a hand toward the men standing a foot apart. “Aurelia, this is Byron Latham, and you appear to have already met Declan MacNeill.”
“Just say the lady and I had a wee bit of a run in.” Declan bent forward a few inches, hoping his aborted bow didn’t look too mocking. No wonder he hadn’t spotted the mystery woman wearing green. Tonight, Miss Aurelia wore a light-colored dress with pink flowers. Nothing covered her wavy reddish-brown hair that shone from the light cast by the oil lanterns. “I hope yer recovered from yer nearly tragic mishap.”
“Tragic, I think not, but I am recovered, Mister MacNeill.” She bobbed her head then angled to her right. “Mister Latham.”
“I think the game proposed by Missus Alwin will work well for you three to get to know each other better. After all, that is the point of these activities.” Following a cheery laugh, Missus Millard repeated the rules. “The change is Aurelia will be the one thinking of her favorite activity, and the men should do the guessing. Ta, t
a, and have a good time.”
“Oh.” The lady in question glanced between the two men. “She sprang that task on me rather quickly. Hmm.” She started to lift a hand toward her face then frowned and dropped it to her side. “All right, I have my favorite activity in mind.”
“Let me go first.” Latham lifted his chin. “I wonder if it’s hikin’.”
Her body stiffened. “I believe, Mister Latham, you’re to ask three general questions before making a guess.”
His brows slammed downward. “Is that what the lady’s explanation meant?” He glanced Declan’s way. “Count that guess as one of my questions.”
Declan decided to throw the flailing man a bone. Noting her pale complexion, he figured Miss Aurelia didn’t spend much time in the sun. Although that habit would certainly change after a move to Colorado. “We ask general questions like, Do you enjoy this activity while outdoors?”
“No, sir. Not outdoors.”
“Dang, that takes frog giggin’ out of the runnin’.” Latham squinted. “Then do you do it indoors?”
Aurelia blinked a couple of times then slid her glance sideways.
That was a wasted question. Declan bit back a grin and just shrugged. He’d never thought Latham to be the sharpest tool in the shed, and the man was fast confirming his opinion.
“Yes to the activity being indoors.” She tilted her head to the left to meet Declan’s gaze.
A dozen or so freckles scattered over her nose. He wondered if they made a pattern then he caught himself staring. “Is the activity done during daylight hours?”
Her lips turned up at the corners. “That it is.”
“Golly, I work nights so I mostly sleep during the day. How am I supposed to know what ladies do?” Latham scratched his chin. “So far we learned indoors and during the day. This is my last question. I better make it a good ʼun, right?” He jabbed his elbow toward Aurelia’s side then jerked back his arm before making contact. His cheeks reddened. “Uh…” Latham stared at the ceiling.
Declan watched fleeting expressions cross Miss Aurelia’s face, from confused to offended to impatient. He saw her gaze move over the gathering until it stopped where Royce and Missus Millard stood with another triad. Was she looking for an escape? Or for another potential groom? He studied this woman who had been deemed his suitable spouse.
Boots scuffled on the wooden floor. “I wish I had a beer right about now. Jumping Jehoshaphat, that’s it.” Latham slapped a hand on his thigh. “Is the activity more fun while drinkin’ a frothy beer?”
Aurelia stiffened, and then jerked her head to look at the blond man. “A beer?” Her nose crinkled. “No. But on occasion, I have enjoyed a libation in the pursuit of this activity.”
Scratching his head, Latham stared at Declan. “Is that a yes to booze?”
Too choked to speak, Declan just nodded. How the matchmaker had connected this slow-witted man with the refined lady at his side he’d never guess. He took a long look at her dress, of quality fabric and tailored style like Mayor Shumaker’s wife wore, at the triple string of pearls at her throat, and the tips of her pink shoes that matched the sewn-on flowers of her dress. A long-ago memory of Moira and her mother discussing the estate’s mistress and the time involved in creating her wardrobe surfaced. In that moment, he knew the answer—shopping. Now, to test his theory. “Do both men and women participate in this activity?”
Her gaze narrowed as she studied him. “Yes.”
Had he tipped his hand? Declan gazed at the woman with the pert nose while he rubbed fingers over the stubble on his jaw.
“So, now we guess, right?” Latham jerked his gaze between the two others.
“You’re correct, Mister Latham.” As she twisted to look at both two men, Aurelia swished her full skirts. “I believe you make the first one.”
Pointing a finger, he leaned forward, eyebrows winged high. “Your favorite activity is playin’ poker.”
“Sorry. Not the right one.” Aurelia shook her head. “But isn’t that game usually played at night?” Then she angled her posture and focused on the man with the remaining guess.
The sparkling hazel-eyed gaze she cast his way could only be described as imploring. So, the uppity lady who hadn’t appreciated his save from the runaway horse now hoped for…what? To be rescued? Although he resisted responding to her silent plea, he couldn’t squelch his competitive streak. Every game awarded a winner. Besides, the woman needed an escort. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I believe Miss Northcliffe’s favorite activity is”—as she leaned closer, the heady scent of jasmine teased his nose—“attending historical lectures.”
Her head snapped upright, and her eyes rounded. “Um, why, Mister MacNeill, you are absolutely correct.” Then she flashed a wide smile and reached a hand toward his arm.
At the touch of trembling fingers inside his elbow, Declan straightened. He’d been treating the game as a lark, but this pretty woman was less confident than she appeared. He pressed his arm against his side, trapping her hand. “Shall we see what the Ladies’ Auxiliary has provided?” A sideways glance confirmed her agreement, and he stepped forward.
When they were several feet away from Latham, he looked at her stiff profile. “Attending lectures is not yer favorite. Why did ye agree? I could’ve convinced Latham to alter the rules.”
“Other games are planned, and I was done with that one.” With her nose in the air, she glanced around as they walked.
A true gentleman might have let the subject drop, but he needed to know if he’d figured out Miss Aurelia Northcliffe. “’Tis shopping. That’s yer favorite activity, am I right?”
“But how—” She snapped her gaping mouth shut with a pop. “I’m surprised you deduced that so quickly.”
Declan couldn’t deny the flash of satisfaction at knowing he’d knocked her a degree or two off center. He patted his free hand atop hers and grinned. “Given a few more questions, Latham might have, as well.”
She gasped and looked upward, her gaze direct. “And be subjected to more of Mister Latham’s inappropriate suggestions? No, thank you.”
“True. I don’t suppose those thin slippers yer wearin’ would last the first mile on a hike.”
Her gaze narrowed then a smile pinched her lips. “Based on the rugged terrain I’ve seen here, I might not last that long. Kansas is flat and doesn’t have huge mountains like these.”
Ah, their first obvious commonality. “’Tis the same in Ireland. The mountains there amount to mere hills in comparison to the Prosperity Mountains.” They’d reached the table, and Declan looked over the big punch bowl and several plates of cookies. He hoped some had been donated from DeMitri Bakery, because when he had a hankering for a sweet treat, that’s where he headed. He served a cup of punch and held it in his flattened hand. “A drink?” She accepted it, and the brush of her soft fingertips seared like a spark inching along his palm.
“Oh.” Her head came up, but her gaze flitted away. “Thank you.”
Footsteps clomped closer. “A fella could die of thirst waitin’ on you two.” Latham stopped two feet away and jammed hands on his hips. “Whatcha been talking’ about? Hope it’s not history, because that subject is just plain borin’.” Then he leaned between their shoulders and stepped forward. “Oo whee, look at all them cookies.”
Declan stepped back to let the eager man pass. He sipped the overly-sweet fruity drink and watched the miner stack five or six cookies into his cupped hand.
With each addition, Aurelia’s eyes grew wider. She glanced around then moved until she’d put an empty foot of floor space between them.
Catherine approached and gave a beckoning wave. “Aurelia, come join a game of Charades. We’re pitting men against the ladies.”
“Sounds like fun, Catherine.” Aurelia looked at the men, eyebrows raised. “Shall we join them?”
Any game was fine as long as Declan stuck close to the intriguing Miss Northcliffe. “Aye.”
“I guess.” Shrug
ging, Latham spat a shower of cookie crumbs as he answered.
Rolling her eyes, Aurelia turned, notched up her nose, and sashayed away.
The next hour passed quickly in a spirited game of animated gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. Declan was glad the prompts were general enough that everyone, no matter their educational level, had a chance at guessing. Everyone but poor Latham whose movements to provide clues only confused his teammates. On the other hand, Aurelia dove into the action and soon clapped and cheered each of her team’s correct guesses. Tendrils came loose from her bun and hung at her pinkened cheeks. The longer he watched her, the wider his grin grew.
As the game broke up, Latham pulled Declan aside. “You had the lady alone first off, but I’m walkin’ her home. You hear?”
Declan held up his hands in surrender. “Fair’s fair. I’ll act as chaperon and walk five paces behind.”
With the men flanking Aurelia, the three moved toward the door then Latham skidded to a stop. “Dang, I forgot to bring a lantern.”
Aurelia leaned through the doorway. “But the night’s so dark. Is walking to the boarding house safe?”
Declan scooted around the door frame and down the steps. “Give me a moment. I brought a lantern.” He reaching into his back pocket for a match and swiped it against the church siding. When the wick was adjusted to cast a wide circle of light, he extended the glowing lantern toward Latham.
“Obliged, MacNeill.” Latham offered his elbow to Aurelia, and then he set off down the street, whistling.
Spotting Aurelia tossing glances over her shoulder made Declan bite back a grin. He watched Latham swagger as he strode, making Aurelia dash to keep up.
After three looks, she tilted her head upward and scanned the star-flung sky.
At the Howard Boarding House, Aurelia climbed the bottom step before turning. “Thank you, gentlemen. I enjoyed myself at the social.”
Grinning, Latham reached out both hands toward her shoulders.
Ducking away, she captured his right hand and shook it with big strokes. “Good night, Mister Latham.”
Perfectly Mismatched (Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs Book 1) Page 4
