Wyoming Cinderella (Silhouette Desire)
Page 11
Billy cut him off. “But we already have a nanny. Ella!” he said pointing to the shadows of the foyer.
Running to the door, he dragged her into the circle of soft light illuminating the room. Self-consciously Ella wiped her hands on the seat of her ragged cutoffs. If ever there was a question about who was the real princess among them, Frannie answered it with a royal sweep of her pale blue eyes.
“Where did you ever find such a charming creature?” she asked.
At the moment Ella felt about as charming as a snake publicly shedding its skin. Nonetheless, she extended her hand politely and received, in return, a tepid, limp fish handshake. For all the sweetness Aunt Frannie was exuding for her relations, Ella sensed an undercurrent of hostility.
“This is Ella McBride, the young woman I hired to watch over the children,” Hawk said. “I thought I e-mailed you about her.”
Ella cringed at the indifferent description. Not that she expected him to announce that they were lovers or anything. Still, she found herself wishing that he would simply come and stand beside her.
Frannie waved a jeweled hand at Hawk. “I’m afraid I’m just as bad not keeping up with my e-mail as I ever was with snail mail.”
He smiled indulgently as one would at a forgetful but adorable child. “Ella, this is Lauren’s sister, Frannie. She has been a godsend to us all. I doubt if I could have made it through Lauren’s death without her help.”
The look of gratitude he wore was so real that it left no doubt whatsoever of his sincerity. “If I haven’t told you enough, Fran, I can never repay you for all you’ve done for us. The fact that you would put your own life on hold to volunteer your time to take care of Billy, Sarah and me means more than you’ll ever know.”
“Oh, stop!” she told him.
The flush lingering upon those high patrician cheekbones was telling. Clearly the woman wanted more from Hawk than gratitude alone. Ella wondered if he was aware of the sexual tension crackling in the room like static electricity. The striking resemblance between Frannie and the pictures Ella had seen of Lauren was unnerving. She wondered what memories his ex-sister-in-law’s presence brought back for Hawk. What mixed feelings it evoked?
Gratefulness? Guilt? Grief?
Ella spied all of them in Hawk’s eyes as he continued gazing at Frannie.
“Just ’cuz Ella’s taking care of us, doesn’t mean you can’t stay,” Sarah said, tugging at her aunt’s silken sleeve.
“I don’t know, honey,” Frannie said, bending down to look the child in the eye. “I’m not so sure I wouldn’t be in the way.”
Everyone but Ella looked offended at the thought. “You know you’re always welcome here. Just because we’re not in the market for a servant doesn’t mean we’re not delighted to see you,” Hawk reassured her.
“Then you really don’t mind my dropping by uninvited?” Her voice was a cultivated, sultry breeze.
“Of course not. We have plenty of room and would love for you to stay as long as you’d like. Really.”
A perfect smile replaced the worry lines furrowing her delicate brow. “In that case, I’d be thrilled to spend some time getting reacquainted with my favorite niece and nephew.”
The children squealed happily. They looked as delighted with their aunt’s pronouncement as she looked relieved to hear her duties would be limited to being a “good time” auntie. Ella didn’t think those manicured nails would fare well under soapy dishwater, modeling clay or finger paints.
“Would you be a dear and put my things in the bedroom next to Hawk’s?” she asked turning to Ella. Though her smile failed to crinkle her eyes, it did remain in place for a painful twenty seconds.
Indignation burned beneath the surface of Ella’s fair skin. Having just been bluntly reminded that she was merely a servant, she assumed a proper servile attitude and reached for the top bag on a mountain of luggage.
“Wouldn’t you rather I put you in the guest room down the hall?” she asked pleasantly. “It’s got a wonderful view of both the creek and the aspen grove.”
The suggestion warranted a condescending look from Frannie and an emphatic shake of her blond curls. Clearly Hawk’s ex-sister-in-law was more concerned with a view of his backside rather than the countryside.
“Let me help you with those bags,” he told Ella, grabbing a couple by the handles. The muscles of his arms bunched appealingly beneath the load.
“Don’t do me any favors,” Ella hissed under her breath.
Hawk looked surprised by her sudden animosity. He seemed as clueless about hurting her feelings as he appeared oblivious to the fact that Frannie was surreptitiously ogling him. Ella felt a twinge of guilt. Never in her life had she acted ungraciously toward a fellow wayfarer. She often noted that the smaller the house, the greater the hospitality. Indeed, in her own tiny cabin, many was the time she had played hostess to a stranded traveler, a friend down on her luck, or an acquaintance who simply needed time away from the pressure of a hectic lifestyle and strained relationships. Over the years her humble home had been a haven for anyone who happened to stumble upon it—a magical cottage according to Billy and Sarah. Thus, it came as a surprise to Ella herself to realize that she wanted to pitch Aunt Frannie and her expensive hand-tooled Italian luggage out the front door.
Unexpected tears pooled in her eyes. Tears she was determined to hide from her employer as she dumped her first load of baggage in the bedroom next to his.
“What is the matter?” he asked as she jostled past him on her way back to pick up her second load.
“Nothing,” she said in a tone that indicated otherwise.
Hawk grabbed her by the arm. “Like hell!” he countered.
Ella drew herself to her full height, put her hands on her hips, and assumed a fighting stance. “Maybe you’d rather I put her Highness’s things in your room and spare you the trouble of ten extra steps!”
Had she not been a woman, Ella suspected Hawk would have flattened her on the spot.
“Such a vile remark is unlike you,” he said.
His voice was cold and his eyes hard. Clearly Hawk was hurt and as perplexed by her outburst as Ella was about Frannie’s intrusion. She thought even his words had taken on an unpleasant high-brow quality since he’d discovered Frannie under his roof.
“I’ll have you know,” he continued, “that woman’s been here for this family. Fran stayed by her sister’s bedside the entire time she was hospitalized. Day and night she remained by Lauren’s side, giving comfort and support to all of us, arranging for Billy’s and Sarah’s well-being and helping them cope with the most tragic loss in any child’s life.”
That remark got to Ella like none other could. Remembering how desperately she could have used a friend or relative when her own mother passed away, she fought back the surge of regret for making such an uncharitable remark. Unlike Billy and Sarah, she’d had no one at all to stand by her or offer to help rebuild her life.
Hawk ignored the pained expression on her face. “Not only is your comment unbecoming of a lady, it is also totally unfounded. For God’s sake, what must you think of me to imply I’d carry on with my dead wife’s sister?”
Ella took a step back. It was the maddest she had ever seen Hawk, and though he had never given her any cause to fear him, she had been around men who lashed out at far less. Guilt loosened the gnarled hand of jealousy twisting her guts into a knot. That she owed Hawk an apology only made it that much more difficult to admit she might be wrong.
Why couldn’t he understand how it hurt her to be shoved aside like a day-old newspaper now that the latest, glossy edition had arrived on his doorstep? The scene smacked of all the old painful memories of being passed over again and again for adoption. It seemed fate was determined to keep throwing those beautiful blue eyed blondes in her face throughout her lifetime. If a prospective parent couldn’t see past her freckles and gawkiness, how could she possibly expect a man like William Fawson Hawk III to consider her for his wife?
“Your servant has been duly reprimanded for her unseemly demeanor,” she told him with a pert salute before straining toward sincerity. “I certainly didn’t mean to slight the memory of your wife or imply that you have something going on with your sister-in-law. I’m sure she is a lovely person.”
Despite her words, Ella had taken an automatic dislike to the woman. As far as she was concerned, her speech was overblown, her manners condescending, and, despite everything Hawk said to the contrary, her attitude blatantly self-centered. She could see that Hawk was genuinely perplexed by her mood swing. She wished she could explain that this was an altogether hideous ending to what had otherwise been the most perfect day of her life. The last thing she needed was Saint Frannie to remind her that she had no business giving even a second’s worth of credibility to the fantasy she’d been building in her mind—the one in which the devilishly handsome, wealthy man falls in love with the lowly minion of the castle.
As opposed to simply bedding her at his convenience and moving on.
It had been stupid on her part to hope for anything more. The rich married the rich, and the poor, if they were lucky, were allowed to serve the cake at their weddings. Although Hawk was adamant about having no desire to hook up romantically with his ex-sister-in-law, Ella had seen the glint in Frannie’s eyes and knew the predatory blonde was not at all opposed to the idea herself.
“This might be a good time to review my job description,” she said stiffly, doing her best to keep her tears at bay. For a woman who never had much all her life, Ella’s pride was always in reserve. “Am I to be Aunt Frannie’s personal handmaid as well as your children’s nanny?”
Hawk looked startled. All of a sudden his eyes lost the look of flint her earlier remark had put there. A smile flitted across his features as he tipped her face up by the stubborn set of her chin.
“Is that what this is all about?” he asked, looking relieved that he had stumbled upon the answer. “You are nobody’s servant, Ella. I thought you knew that you are a part of this family.”
Her stupid tears refused to do as they were told. As they welled over and spilled down her cheeks, Ella cursed Hawk’s kind words.
“And as such,” he told her, kissing away those runaway tears, “I expect you to treat Fran like you would one of your own relations. I know she can be a little demanding at times, but she really is good at heart.”
“How can I treat her like one of my own when I don’t have any relatives?” she asked petulantly.
“None?” he asked, wincing at the thought of her having faced the world all alone for so very long.
“Nary an aunt, uncle, or cousin twice removed. You know, I’ve always dreamed of being part of a real family, not just a castaway floating from foster home to foster home.” Ella gave him a weak smile then brightened suddenly. “Maybe if I try thinking of her nibs as an eccentric relative, one suffering under delusions of grandeur, we could learn to tolerate one another. That is, as long as you promise to explain to her that I wasn’t put on earth to wait on her hand and foot.”
Hawk smiled and took her into his arms. “Done!” he pronounced, holding her against the beating of his heart.
He felt a sudden fierce desire to protect this blithe spirit against a world too cruel. When he squeezed her reassuringly, she clung to him, wrapping her arms around the strong column of his neck and pressing her curves against him. Hawk reacted in a purely masculine, involuntary way that caused both hope and desire to rise in Ella’s breast.
“You smell like summer,” he remarked, breathing in the essence of her hair.
The fragrance of ambergris that she had dotted along her pulse lines earlier in the day did indeed evoke thoughts of the seashore at summer. As did those foam-green eyes of hers glistening as he lowered his head to hers. Sighing, Ella opened her lips in expectation of a kiss that would make everything all better.
“What is keeping you, Hawk?” a mellifluous voice called from the other room.
Ella’s eyes flew open as she felt Hawk stiffen. Frannie couldn’t have ruined the moment more effectively had she thrown a bucket of icy water upon them.
“I’ll be right there,” Hawk called. Glad to have reestablished peace in his own home, he placed a chaste kiss upon Ella’s forehead as he stepped out of her embrace. “Don’t worry. I promise to have a little talk with Frannie before I turn in tonight.”
Ella was tempted to rub off the spot of warmth lingering upon her skin. How could she ever hope to maintain any emotional distance when such a restrained peck had the power to brand her as his forever?
“I’ll tuck the children in and give you two time to catch up,” she told him, swallowing her pride and pasting on a cheery smile.
“Do we have to go to bed already?” the children asked a few minutes later when the edict came down. The inflection in their voices verged on whining.
Ella settled the matter by issuing what she considered a reasonable compromise. “Yes, you have to go to bed, but you’re welcome to wake your auntie up first thing in the morning after you’ve all had a good night’s sleep.”
She hoped Her Highness was used to rising shortly after the sun did. Satisfied, the children allowed her to read them a nighttime story, listen to their prayers, and turn on their night-lights. She listened patiently while tucking them into bed as they chattered excitedly about their visitor. By the time Ella slipped exhausted into her own bed, Hawk and Frannie were deep into conversation and an aged bottle of wine their guest had provided.
The “little talk” Hawk had promised lasted hours. It was agony for Ella to lay between the sheets and listen to the sound of their voices, which were alternately sprinkled with loud bursts of laughter that made her want to bury her head beneath her pillow. She found their hushed tones even more disturbing. That she was overtired didn’t help her find sleep any more quickly.
Home had been an elusive concept in her life since the death of her mother. That Ella had come to feel at home under Hawk’s protective roof was a big step for her emotionally. Tonight, however, those feelings of belonging evaporated as she felt herself transported back to a time when she was bounced from one foster home to another like a human Superball. Most of the bedrooms where she had spent her youth were small, dingy rooms jammed full with bunk beds and other foster care children intended to generate income for the host family. Ella remembered one room in particular. It smelled of wet carpet that never completely dried out from periodic sewage leaks. It was a basement room with no windows and only a bare bulb to illuminate her homework. Her host parents were absent much of the time and expected her to look after their own children who had lovely rooms upstairs. After weeks of crying herself to sleep, Ella finally summoned the courage to complain to her social worker about her living conditions. He said to be grateful and keep her mouth shut.
The exact opposite of that spiteful room had been one decorated in yellow floral wallpaper. The window above her canopy bed had matching white eyelet curtains that shifted in the breeze. Every night Ella got down on her knees beside that bed and begged God to make this home permanent. The kind couple who had taken her in were considering formally adopting her. However, when the wife became pregnant after years of infertility, Ella found herself helping the woman transform her lovely bedroom into a nursery for the baby.
Having learned the hard way that blood is thicker than water, Ella berated herself for forgetting it. As wonderful as it was, this home was not hers and never would be. The two people conversing in the other room were connected by history and a bloodline and a social structure that someone like Ella could never hope to penetrate. Outcasts such as herself would do well to remember not to get too attached to romantic fantasies or flesh-and-blood children who would likely forget her just as soon as their daddy remarried someone of their class.
“Too late,” trilled the meadowlark outside her window. “Too late, you silly little fool….”
<
br /> Ten
Maneuvering around Mount Saint Frannie seemed as easy to Ella as dusting the Statue of Liberty had it been located in one’s living room. Having lived at Red Feather Ranch for nearly a month, Ella had come to think of it as her second home. Their new houseguest seemed intent on remedying Ella’s false sense of security. Putting the nanny in her place was uppermost in their houseguest’s mind whether by testing every cranny for dust, asking for special dietary consideration, or questioning Ella’s methodology with the children. Under her breath, Ella referred to Frannie as high-maintenance company.
“Would you be a dear and make me a sunrise latte with a spot of hazelnut cream? Decaffeinated, of course, with just a smidgen of whipped cream on top,” Frannie demanded upon tumbling out of bed.
As promised, the children had awakened their aunt at the crack of dawn. Ella suspected Frannie wasn’t accustomed to seeing daylight before brunch was typically growing cold, but she wasn’t harsh in the least with the children for disturbing her beauty rest. In fact, when she emerged from her bedroom an hour or so later, she looked like she had just stepped off the society page.
Frannie’s blond hair was fine and spilled around her shoulders like sunshine. Ella wondered if she had it lightened professionally or if it was naturally beautiful. She pushed a heavy strand of her own thick hair out of her eyes. It was, she knew from school-day taunts, the color of carrots.
“I’ll be glad to get you a cup of coffee left over from breakfast,” Ella told her, putting down the book she was in the midst of reading to the children to do Frannie’s bidding.
She disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with the coffee, a carton of cream and a Danish heated in the microwave. Frannie sniffed at the offering like Hissy Face showing her disgust.
“Thank you, dear,” she purred, her voice a study in upper class tonation. She nibbled delicately on the edge of the Danish and merely wrinkled her nose at the coffee.
“You’re welcome.”