Chapter 13
When Marcus showed her to their room that night, Cecily intended to have a serious talk with him, but then he turned on the radio and kissed her and she forgot everything else.
“What’s the radio for?” she murmured against his lips.
“Noise control,” he said, causing her to laugh until he kissed her again.
Awhile later he gave her the tour of his bedroom. She was glad to see it was more like a suite with a large sleeping room, sitting area, and full bathroom with double sinks.
“I was picturing a teenager’s room with band posters and pictures of supermodels,” she said.
“That’s what Mathew’s room looks like,” he said, swallowing hard.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting, Marcus,” she said gently.
“You make it better,” he said. He put an arm around her and pulled her close. “I think it went well with Mom and Dad.”
Her brow wrinkled. She wasn’t sure how to tell him he couldn’t be farther from the truth. She had learned from her brother that men were sensitive about their mothers. In Dante’s eyes their mother could do no wrong.
“It seems like your dad has accepted me,” she said.
Marcus ran his fingers lightly up and down her arm. “Mmm, hmm.”
“Did your mom have a particular attachment to Lacey?” she asked.
He laughed. “No, my mom had a special tolerance for Lacey. She never warmed up to her.”
For some reason this comment made Cecily feel better. Maybe his mother was one of those overprotective types who thought no woman was good enough for her little boy. Then he continued speaking and dispelled that notion.
“She liked Libby, though. Those two were peas in a pod.”
She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. “How long did you and Libby date?”
He opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at her. “A year.”
“That’s a long time,” she said. “Were you serious?”
“Depends on your definition,” he said vaguely.
“Tell me yours,” she said.
He smiled. “I suppose we were. I proposed.”
She would have clutched his shirt, but he wasn’t wearing one, so she settled for pressing her palms to his chest. “You what?”
“I proposed. She said no. We broke up. Dobbie came home. End of story.”
It was most definitely not the end of the story, at least not for her. Marcus closed his eyes and emitted a soft snore.
“Marcus,” she yelled.
His eyes flapped open. “What?”
“You just told me you proposed to another woman and then fell asleep.”
He smiled. “Honey, it was a lifetime ago. I was a kid.”
“It was four years ago. You were two years older than I am now.”
“And you’re a kid. A beautiful, sexy little kid.” He leaned up to kiss her.
“So many things are wrong with that statement, I don’t know where to begin,” she said.
“Don’t try.” He kissed her again and shifted her closer.
“Better turn on the radio,” she said, and he did.
The next morning she wasn’t sure what to expect at breakfast. The elder Henshaws were quiet, but Marcus didn’t act like anything was amiss, so she thought maybe they were always quiet in the mornings.
“Mr. Henshaw, would you mind if I brought my horse here?” Cecily asked him.
“Why, no, not at all,” Mr. Henshaw said. “You’re family now, and there’s plenty of room in the barn.”
“Thank you.” Cecily smiled at him.
“And you can call us Evan and Lydia,” he added.
“Thank you,” Cecily repeated.
“See you later,” Marcus said as soon as he finished eating. He leaned over to kiss her and followed his father from the room.
The silent awkwardness of the table was immediate and oppressive.
“Is there anything I can help you do today, Lydia?” She stumbled over the name. Somehow it was easier to call her Mrs. Henshaw.
“No,” Lydia said. “Just stay out of my way.” She stood and cleared her plate, despite the fact that her meal was only half finished.
Cecily realized her hands were shaking. She had the sudden desire to flee somewhere and hide. Home. The word burned in her brain. She was thankful she had a legitimate reason to go there and hurried through her morning preparations.
When she stepped outside though, she was uncertain of the best way to get there. She didn’t feel comfortable taking a truck, and she didn’t know where they were kept, anyway. She could take a horse, she knew where the horse barn was, but then how would she get her horse back? Still, that seemed like the best option, so she headed toward the horse barn.
The scent and sounds of the horses worked to calm her troubled heart. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“I do the same thing,” a male voice said. She opened her eyes to see a cowboy watching her with a smile. “Jessup.” He held out his hand to her. “I’m the head stablehand here and all around nice guy.”
“Cecily Henshaw,” she said. She had almost said Blake but corrected herself at the last minute.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought I knew all the Henshaws.”
“I’m a new one,” she said. She wiggled her ring finger at him.
“Oh my,” he said. “Congratulations, Mrs. Henshaw.” He grinned and tipped his hat to her.
She smiled. “I would tell you to call me Cecily, but I like hearing my new title too much.”
He laughed. “I’ll switch once the newness has worn off for you.”
“It’s a deal,” she said. She glanced wistfully at the horses. “These are some beautiful animals you have.”
“Thank you, although I can’t take credit for them. I buy, not breed.”
“I breed,” she said shyly.
“Really?” He perked up interestedly.
She nodded. “My spread is across the way. I was just heading there. I suppose I’ll borrow a horse, but I wanted to bring my mare back with me.”
“I’ll drive you,” he offered. “That way I can see what you’re up to. We need some fresh horses, and if I can buy locally that’s even better.”
She bit her lip. “I’m not sure I could charge my new father-in-law for horses,” she said uncertainly.
“Sure you could. He’s loaded. The first rule of business is that everything is business. In fact, if I know Mr. Henshaw, he would probably lose respect for you if you didn’t charge him.”
“Maybe so,” she said. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge if we get there.” Jessup held out a hand to help her into the truck and ascended into the driver’s seat.
“Did you ever think these tall trucks were designed by a lonely man?” he asked.
“No,” she said, unsure of his meaning.
“He wanted to think of the easiest way to get his hands on a pretty girl.” He grinned at her again.
Cecily laughed. “Better not share that thought with my husband.”
His smile widened. “You like saying that too, huh?”
She nodded.
“Go ahead,” he urged.
“Husband, husband, husband,” she said, and they laughed together. He was a pleasant man, younger than most of the other hands on the ranch, and personable. They talked about horses for the entire ride, and she was so enthralled by the conversation that the drive seemed short.
Back at the ranch Lydia Henshaw was deep in thought. By chance she noticed her pretty new daughter-in-law get in the truck with handsome young Jessup. There must be some way to use that, she thought. I just have to figure out what it is.
The Cowgirl Who Loved Horses, Queens of Montana Bonus Book Page 14
