The Mistaken Heiress

by Shelba Shelton Nivens

  Still grinning, he rubbed his midsection. “I think you gave me a hernia.”

  She stooped and picked up the pages from her sketch pad. She didn’t look at him as she wadded and stuffed them into her pocket and then picked up the band that had secured her ponytail. “Maybe it will stop you from loading that wheelbarrow with my dirt.”

  “I didn’t come for dirt. I came...” He stopped.

  “Yes?” She looked up at him, waiting for him to finish.

  The smile left his face. He took her arm to help her to her feet.

  She yanked her arm away and reached up to pull back her tangled hair. His arms around her unnerved her more than the fall, but she couldn’t let him know that. She didn’t want to know it herself.

  “Come sit at the table. I want to talk to you about something.”

  She watched him limp to the table, a hand to his back. Did he intend to scold her for chopping up the stakes he’d used to lay out his house? Just let him try. She’d tell him a few things, too.

  She followed him to the table and slid onto the bench across from him. “Well?”

  He just stared at her with a sad sparkle in his eye, and again she found herself noting his kindness. Forget it. I can’t let him distract me from the prize. Firmly resolved, she met his eye and waited for him to continue.

  Chapter 8

  Steve could tell by Kate’s hostile glare this wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Well? What did you want to say to me?”

  She shivered in a sudden cool breeze, giving him his opening. “It’s getting cooler. And, according to the weatherman, rain is on the way.”

  “That’s why you wanted to talk to me—to give me a weather report?”

  He grinned. She was good with a quick comeback, all right. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something about the old house.”

  “What about it?” She eyed him with suspicion.

  “Since it will soon be too cold to camp out, I thought I might fix up the house enough to stay in it for a while. What do you think?”

  “No.” Her chin lifted and her nostrils flared. Then she slumped on the bench as the fight went out of her. “Why are you asking me? You didn’t ask me before you came in here and took over the land.”

  He squelched the urge to reach out and take her hand. “That was before I met you.”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and lowered her head. A tear dropped from under the screen of her hair.

  Steve, you’re a louse. He reached across the table and touched her cheek.

  When she didn’t pull back, he rubbed away her tears with the tips of his fingers. “I’m sorry. I know this is difficult for you.”

  She leaned her face into his touch. But only for a second before she pushed his hand away and sat up straight. “You don’t need to ask my permission, if you own the place like you say.”

  “Will you walk to the house with me to look at it?”

  “Why?”

  “I’d like your opinion on some things. I want to see what you’d like to keep. If there’s anything salvageable.”

  “I don’t have a place to keep anything.”

  “You can tell me if there’s something you want and I’ll hold it for you.”

  “How about the house itself?” She glanced around them. “And this little piece of land?” She jumped to her feet. “Never mind. We’ll get to that later. It’s getting cool out here. We’d best be going to the house, if we’re going.”

  She kept her eyes averted from him as they walked along the path toward the house. Her cheek still tingled from his touch. She was sure both cheeks must be pink. What in the world had caused her to lean her face against his hand anyway? It wasn’t as though she wanted sympathy or comfort from him. He was the last person in the world she would turn to. After all, he was the one causing her misery.

  When they reached the edge of the wooded area, he stopped. “Look! There, under the big oak.” A sleek reddish-brown doe munched acorns at the edge of the yard.

  Kate felt a smile cross her face. “I’ve seen deer come right up to the edge of the house. We used to put out fruit and vegetable scraps for them.”

  They stood quietly until the deer threw up her short white tail and bolted into the trees.

  He laughed softly. “We spooked her, invading her territory this way.”

  “I know how she feels.”

  “Let’s go round to the front. The back steps need to be repaired, but I replaced the missing boards on the front porch. And I tacked a temporary covering over the hole in the roof.”

  She nodded for him to go first along the trail he had trampled through the grass.

  When they reached the front door, Steve pushed it open and stepped aside for Kate to enter.

  She stopped on the threshold.

  He waited silently from several steps behind her while she glanced around the room. She knew he was giving her time to adjust emotionally to the changes. And she was grateful.

  “This was Grandpa’s living room. Or ‘the parlor,’ as Grandmother used to call it. She was a society girl from up north, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “She met Grandpa while he was stationed up there with the army.”

  “That’s interesting.” He sounded as if he really meant it. But she didn’t need to go into that just now. Taking a deep breath, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stepped into the room.

  He followed close behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  She let it rest there. She needed a human touch just now. Even if it was his.

  * * *

  Steve sensed her pain and wanted to offer comfort. When she didn’t flinch, he was tempted to pull her into his arms but was afraid she would misread his intentions.

  So he gave her shoulder an understanding pat and then stepped back to watch as she walked slowly around the room.

  She trailed a finger through a thick layer of dust on the small round table beside a leather easy chair. She touched the rocker beside the fireplace and started it rocking. She patted a molding sofa cushion.

  When she came to the desk, she stopped. “This is where I found Grandpa the day of his big stroke. He was sprawled here on the floor.”

  She blinked away tears as she moved to the fireplace. “The chimney will need to be cleaned out before a fire is built in it.”

  “Will you help me clean it?” Working on the place might be good therapy for her.

  She shrugged. “Why not?”

  “I’ll go outside and find something to work with.” He would give her a little time alone inside, and then maybe he could distract her while she was halfway agreeable—before her emotions got the best of her. She looked as though she was about to break into tears.

  When he came back inside, she appeared to have herself under control.

  He used a cane pole he found under the front porch to dislodge an old bird’s nest, leaves and pine cones from the chimney. Then she helped him gather fallen limbs and sticks to build a fire in the fireplace. Neither of them seemed to have lasting injuries from her fall on top of him.

  Standing with backs to the fire they built in the old stone fireplace, her gaze swept the room. A lone tear trickled down one cheek. Instinctively, before he realized what he was doing, he reached out and enfolded her in his arms.

  She rested her forehead against his chin, and he thought for a moment she was going to hug him, too. But as soon as her arms slipped around his waist, she pulled them back. “I’m—all right. Thank you.”

  He let her go and was surprised to realize he wanted to hold her longer. Not for her this time, but for him.

  She took a deep breath and wiped her face on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “The sofa will need to be cleaned
and aired and the curtains thrown away. Grandmother had the room done up really pretty. But Grandpa and I decided it was too fancy for our lifestyle after she was gone. We took down the lace curtains and put up these plain red ones and covered the brocade sofa with that heavy woven material.”

  She studied the sofa a minute. “If those covers are too far gone, we might be able to pull them off to check the brocade underneath. It still looked good when we covered it up. Of course, that was several years ago.”

  “How old were you when your grandmother died?”

  “Eleven.” She dropped into the dusty rocker.

  He sat down on the hearth. “Do you miss her?”

  She shook her head. “No. I always felt guilty because I didn’t hate to see her go. She was real fussy about everything, always worrying about what people think and criticizing Grandpa and me. I guess that’s where Mother gets it.”

  She glanced round the room again. “We kept intending to repaper the walls but never got around to it. When the stroke sent him to the nursing home, there were only a few small tears in the paper and that big one over the desk where he tore it moving the desk around.”

  She sprang to her feet. “Speaking of fixing up, we’d best get busy if you’re going to sleep here after the rain starts.”

  Steve smothered a smile and stood. Better get at it while Kate was in the mood.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Kate cradled a heavy mug in her hands and sniffed the rich aroma of hot chocolate mingled with the scent of burning hickory. The fire in the grate hissed and spewed as blue-and-yellow flames leaped up the blackened chimney. She looked at the man sitting beside her on the sofa.

  Firelight played across his face as he glanced around the room and then at her. He smiled, white teeth glistening through the dark beard. “We got a lot done.” He patted a sofa cushion. “The sofa cleaned up quite well. I think I’ll sleep on it tonight.”

  He settled back and crossed his legs. His knee almost touched Kate’s as he rested his ankle on the other knee. She stood, careful not to touch him. “I think I’d better go. It’ll soon be dark.”

  “I’ll drive you in the pickup.” He rose to his feet, in no rush to get his keys.

  “I’ll walk through the woods. There’s plenty of light yet. I’ve walked the trail many times when it was later than this.” She didn’t want anyone seeing her in the pickup with him.

  He walked outside with her. “Do you want to come back tomorrow? You haven’t told me what you want to keep.”

  What she wanted to keep? She didn’t want anything right now. She wanted everything left as is until she decided how she wanted things when she started her business. It was the intruder she wanted out. “I’ll be at work.”

  “Work? You’re working here in town?” He looked startled. “When I didn’t see you for a while I thought you were at school.”

  “I went back for finals, but I’m working now at—an office in town.”

  “Do you want to stop by after work tomorrow? I’ll make soup.”

  Whether she came or didn’t, she knew he would be here working on the house. She may as well stick around and see what he was doing to it. Besides, with his help, she would be further ahead with cleaning once the legal details were straightened out and she got the place back.

  “I get off at noon.”

  “Good. Come on by.”

  “Maybe I will—to be sure you’re not destroying things.” She turned and hurried away before he could comment.

  But not before she saw him smile.

  * * *

  A steady drizzle started the next day just after Kate left the office at noon. She went by the house to change into jeans, found Aunt El cleaning and helped with the vacuuming before driving over to the old house.

  By the time she reached the driveway leading to the farmhouse, it was early evening. She stopped and peered through the wet windshield. Gravel filled the ditches. The boulders had been moved out of the road. It seemed safe to try driving.

  As she pulled up in front of the house, Steve ran down the steps with an open umbrella. He held it over her as she stepped from the car.

  “I built a fire to dry us out.” He put an arm around her shoulders and leaned his head close to hers as they hurried to the porch. His warm breath tickled her ear.

  She pulled away from him when they stepped up on the porch.

  The smell of cooking tomatoes, mingling with other vegetables, greeted them as he opened the door, and she breathed in hungrily. It smelled like Grandpa still lived here.

  “Grandpa used to make vegetable soup, too. No one can make it like he did.” She brushed past him and went inside.

  “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” A grin tilted the edges of his mouth.

  “Not knocking it. Just stating facts.” She walked to the fireplace and sat in the rocker.

  He headed for the kitchen. “I’ll bring bowls in here and we can eat by the fire. You can put your shoes by the hearth to dry, if you’d like.”

  She would like to do just that. She had often sat beside this very hearth and wiggled her toes in the warmth of a crackling fire. But she couldn’t do anything that personal around him.

  For the first time, suspicions about his intentions toward her—other than to take her land—crossed her mind.

  “Here you go. Try it. I think you’ll like it.”

  She jumped and looked at him, her cheeks burning. But not from the fire. How foolish to think a man who looked like this one would try to force his attention on her. He probably had women—glamorous ones like her sister and cousins—falling all over him every place he went.

  Maybe she should stop being so negative. Or he wouldn’t want her around. To help with the cleaning, of course.

  She smiled at him as she took a bowl from the tray he held. “Thank you.”

  He set the tray on the hearth. It held a second bowl, two wedges of corn bread and two glasses of milk.

  “I have coffee to go with the pie.”

  “Pie? You made pie, too?”

  He grinned. “From the grocery store deli—like the bread. I still have to learn how to deal with that oven.”

  “Yeah, it’s temperamental.” She picked up a wedge of corn bread.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her and grinned.

  She gave a short laugh. “Go ahead and say it. The oven takes after me.”

  His grin broadened. “You said it, I didn’t.”

  They laughed together. It felt good. If only there wasn’t this thing about the land between them, she could really enjoy being around him.

  He pulled up a footstool and sat down. “You want to say grace, or want me to?”

  “You go ahead.” She bowed her head.

  They ate in companionable silence, like the day they’d worked on the spring together. She smiled to herself when he broke a piece off his corn bread and crumbled it in his soup. She had resisted doing the same, not wanting to appear too country.

  He grinned. “I like seeing a woman enjoy her soup. Especially when I cook it.”

  “It is pretty good. Passable, anyway.”

  He gave an amused grunt. “You only build me up to let me down.”

  She bit back a snippy retort. They could probably get a lot more done if they were not always at odds with each other. There was really no reason to be angry with him anyway. He had bought and paid for the land. Mr. Boyer had found a deed signing the place over to him. He couldn’t control how her mother and uncles came by it.

  She munched a bite of bread while she thought about it. Maybe she should let him know a lawyer was checking on it for her. She turned her gaze from the fire and looked at him. His dark hair glistened in the firelight.

  She wondered how old he was. What kind of work did he do? He mus
t not do much of anything since he was down here so much.

  “Do I pass inspection?”

  Her cheeks grew hot. She hadn’t realized he was watching her. She lifted her chin and leveled a look down her nose. “I was wondering how long an employer will allow a person to hide out in the woods.”

  “Maybe the person doesn’t have an employer.”

  “Maybe.” She studied him. “But how does this person without an employer earn a living?”

  “Well, he could be an employer instead of an employee. He could have a family who supports him. He could be independently wealthy.”

  “Even employers have to work sometimes. And I’ve never seen a preacher who was paid enough to support an overgrown son who doesn’t work. And if I’m not mistaken, you said your father was a minister. So it must be the last one. Are you a multimillionaire?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Far from it.”

  Another thought struck her. He said a family who supports him, not a father. Maybe he had a wife who supported him. “Do you— Is there a—Mrs. Stephen Adams?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “How long have you known?”

  “You’re—married?” Her heart plummeted.

  He laughed. “I meant how long have you known my name.”

  “Oh, that. I’ve known it forever.”

  “You have not.”

  “Yes, I have. For a long time, anyway. Do you think I’d be eating homemade soup in front of a crackling fire with a man whose name I don’t even know?”

  “You didn’t let me know you knew.”

  And you didn’t answer my question. She chewed her lip as she studied him. Why would he not tell her if he had a wife? He still had not told her whom he’d been talking about that day in the woods when he’d said we were going to have horses here.

  “When you get through inspecting me, you need to finish your soup so we can have pie.”

  She didn’t return his grin. “I went to see an attorney.”

  He nodded.

  “You already knew?”