The Convict and the Cattleman

by Allison Merritt

  He smiled as he absorbed the wisdom. “You must be hungry. Dinner was hours ago.”

  Ignoring his concern, she pressed her nails into her palms. “May I ask a question?”

  “Anything.”

  “Did you make the acquaintance of Charity Burbank this afternoon?”

  Phil’s face was a mask of interest. “Aye.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Look like? Well, she’s...womanly, of course. A bit shorter than you and I’m not tryin’ to say you don’t look like the picture of beauty today, but she doesn’t need to hide either. She–”

  Annoyed by his description, vague as it was, she glowered. “Thank you, I get the idea.”

  “What is it about her that has you in a dither? Did you meet her?”

  “I haven’t.” She hung her head, further annoyed by the loose curls falling around her face. “I thought everyone must know by now.”

  “What is it I’m knowin’ that I don’t know?”

  “She’s taking my place and she’s going to marry Jonah.” Saying it out loud was no better than running it through her mind.

  “Marry?” Phil choked on his laughter. “Who bloody fed you that story?”

  Feeling sorry for herself, she sniffled. He removed a ragged handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her. She dabbed the tears on her cheeks away.

  “Millicent. She overheard Mr. Server telling Jonah what a smart match it would be.”

  His brows drew together. “Millicent. If her mum had any sense, she’d bare the girl’s bottom and teach her what liars get.”

  “Mrs. Burbank will be a proper example for Olivia. What good is being raised by a convict?”

  “Millicent will say anything to cause unrest among those she dislikes. Saints, Bridgit, when I said those things about Mrs. Burbank, it meant nothin’. He doesn’t care whether she’s got a fortune or the proper build for child-bearin’. Everyone knows he’s got his eye on–” Phil broke off. “Speak to Jonah if you’re worried. Take nothing Millicent says to heart.”

  Discouraged, she shook her head again. “I can’t. I’m sure he’s enjoying her company. He hasn’t bothered with me today. I didn’t expect him to,” she quickly added.

  “I heard he retired to the study a bit ago. Said his head ached and he needed some quiet.” His voice was gentle again and he picked up one of her hands, briefly squeezing it before letting go. “I’m sure he’d approve select company.”

  She smiled at him. “Perhaps. You’re very kind, Phillip.”

  “Don’t go tellin’ anyone. I’ll never live it down. I’m goin’ back to the party. Plenty of pretty girls to flatter and maybe…” He looked over the bushes, then winked at her. “The future Missus Banner is out there.”

  If it were so easy. The people on the lawn were laughing, talking, and placing bets on the races, enjoying Jonah’s generosity. Taking courage from Phil, she stood.

  “I think I’ll go to the house now,” she said.

  He offered his arm, as though she were worthy of the same attention as women like Mrs. Burbank. “Don’t fret about rumors. They’re seldom accurate.”

  Turning the subject away from the still-sharp prickles of pain Millicent’s words caused, she said, “What about the one saying Jonah’s Coalface is the favorite in the distance race tomorrow? I’m afraid I don’t have much knowledge of horse racing. Will you bet on his colt or one of the others?”

  “I spent more than a few minutes examinin’ his closest competitor. Coalface is bred for long runs, but this other colt’s got another hand of height on him. I’m thinkin’ of wagerin’ against Jonah for once.”

  Many of the people talking about the horses insisted they’d bet on the Laurie Lark bred colt. Bridgit couldn’t believe Phil would go against Coalface. “No! Your own employer’s horse?”

  “I wouldn’t want to be on the losin’ side. What makes you think Coalface can pull off a win?”

  She smiled, feeling foolish. “He seemed awfully fast the day he charged at me.”

  Phil’s eyes twinkled. “Care to make a wager?”

  “I don’t have anything to bet.”

  “But you do,” he insisted. “If Coalface wins, I’ll milk your goat next week. Imagine findin’ a pail of milk on the doorstep at your ready.”

  She liked the sound of that. “If he doesn’t win, what must I give up?”

  He took his time answering. “If he doesn’t win, then I want a kiss.”

  “A kiss?” It wasn’t an unpleasant idea, but it seemed strange to think of kissing anyone other than Jonah. “Whatever for?”

  “My reasons are my own. Is it a bet?”

  She was certain Jonah’s horse would win. “As Coalface will never lose, I’m afraid you’re going to miss out on that particular reward, Phillip.”

  “Ah, said with the certainty of a true gambler. I suppose we’ll see.”

  Right outside the garden’s border, on an upturned block of wood, a young woman sat with her chin resting on her hand. She smiled when she saw Phil and Bridgit emerge.

  “Good evening,” she greeted.

  “Evenin’.” Phil cast a sidelong glance at Bridgit. “Mrs. Burbank, this is Bridgit Madden. Olivia’s nurse.”

  Recognition dawned on Charity’s face. “Indeed. Pleasure to meet you.”

  A sick feeling churned Bridgit’s stomach. “All mine.”

  “Smashin’ good party, don’t you think?” Phil asked.

  Charity looked glum. “Actually, I’m growing tired. The trip down was wearing, but I’m afraid with the noise, I can’t sleep.”

  Bridgit studied the woman. Her features were soft despite the harsh light. A wide, generous mouth and big eyes, like those of a doe, graced her face. The dress she wore was finely cut and jewels sparkled at her ears. She was nothing short of beautiful.

  Phil’s expression was sympathetic. “There must be something Bridgit can do. Don’t you have a spare room?”

  She’d vacated Charlotte’s room for Jonah’s. Tonight, with her work status in question, she wouldn’t share his bed. She couldn’t bear knowing he’d gazed on this woman, but ignored her all evening. The deep, aching uncertainty of her future fell on her again.

  “Of course. You may as well make use of it.” Spending the night on a pallet in the nursery wouldn’t do her any harm.

  Elation made Charity’s face more beautiful. “Wonderful. You’ve no idea how grateful I am. Allow me a moment to tell my father about the arrangement and retrieve my satchel. I won’t be a minute,” Charity promised. She disappeared into one of the tents.

  Phil leaned close to Bridgit’s ear. “Don’t frown so. She’s liable to think you’re unfriendly.”

  She swatted his arm and backed away.

  Charity emerged from the tent with an older man, pausing to kiss his cheek. He patted her shoulder before bidding her good night.

  Familiar sorrow burned Bridgit’s throat. Charity had lost a husband, but still had the love of her father. She forced the grief down, offering a watery smile.

  “’Night, ladies. Mr. Taggart.” Phil waved and walked to the fire pit.

  Charity shook her head, but smiled fondly over her shoulder, where her father watched. “He worries too much. Sometimes he forgets I’m a widow instead of a child. There’s nothing improper about sleeping inside. You’ll be there, won’t you?”

  “Aye.” All night, wishing she was elsewhere.

  So used to Martha and Millicent’s scathing remarks, Bridgit waited for something harsh to come from the woman’s mouth, but received nothing more than a sleepy yawn.

  She glanced at Charity. “Farjana changed the sheets just yesterday. The room is ready for you. I’m afraid Olivia is right next door, but I’ll do my best to make sure she’s quiet. I’m sure you aren’t anxious to deal with a baby after your travels.”

  “I met her this afternoon. Such a beautiful baby. I imagine her mother was lovely. Jonah explained her circumstances. Poor little darling.” Charity sighed, her
brown eyes wet with sympathy.

  Relief, mingled with sadness, fluttered through Bridgit’s chest. At least Charity didn’t begrudge Olivia a place here. “I’m glad he gave me the opportunity to care for her. I don’t expect my next assignment will be so fulfilling.”

  Charity gave her a puzzled look, but didn’t question the statement. They entered the house, quiet after the chatter and music from outside. Down the hall, light glowed from the crack beneath Jonah’s study door. Perhaps he’d taken refuge there from the noise.

  She mounted the stairs. “The bedrooms are up here. Yours is the first door on the right. Jonah’s is...well, it’s directly across the hall, but I doubt he’ll bother you. Can I fetch you anything before you retire?”

  Charity sighed with relief. “No, thank you. You’ve been very kind already. The moment my head touches the pillow, I’ll be fast asleep. I’m looking forward to talking with you more tomorrow. Sleep well, Bridgit.”

  A better chance of snow in Hades than her sleeping, but she acknowledged the farewell with a stiff smile. When the door closed behind Charity, she slipped down the stairs to learn her fate.

  * * * *

  The tapers providing light on Jonah’s desk were nearly guttered when he heard the grandfather clock chime midnight. The party on the lawn was still loud despite the lengths some guests had traveled. He shut the ledger he’d been working on and stretched, groaning as relief washed over his cramped muscles.

  The study door opened and a blond head peered through the crack. Bridgit’s face was pinched with poorly masked worry.

  “Come in if you like,” he invited.

  She did, closing the door behind her. “I’m not bothering you, I hope.”

  He went to the liquor cabinet, removed a bottle of scotch and poured a drink. “Had your fill of the fun?”

  Uncertainty created lines on her face. “Since dinner’s over, there’s not much for me to do. I feel strange among those people.”

  “What makes you say that? They’re no different than me or Bess or Martha.”

  She opened one of the buttons at her collar. “Because I don’t belong.”

  The blue damask she wore had a smudge above her right breast. The lace hung limply around her wrists, and wrinkles marred her skirt. She was still beautiful, even with her hair falling out of the once-tidy knot at her neck. She sat across from him without a care for the arrangement of her skirt.

  He hated the way she doubted herself. “I’m sure you share interests with some of the women. They’re mothers, caretakers, cooks, and seamstresses, too. Very few come from money.”

  “I need to ask you something.” She leaned forward, unknowingly mimicking Charity.

  He took his seat again. “Alright.”

  “What will become of me?”

  Fear crowded her voice, choking the delicate lilt he’d grown fond of. The tumbler slipped in his hand. Bridgit, bless her, didn’t play games or make small talk. She wanted the truth.

  He settled the glass on the desk. “I thought I’d ask you to stay.”

  “What about Mrs. Burbank? M–someone said you want to marry her.”

  Liquid green eyes searched his. As usual when she was nervous, she played with the edge of her sleeve. A habit he found adorable.

  “I have no intentions of marrying Mrs. Burbank,” he said firmly.

  “She came out here at your request. Mr. Server believes she’d make a good wife for you because she’s wealthy.”

  Someone was spreading rumors. Anger hot as a flame burned through him. Calm as he could, he asked, “Are you telling me I should send you away?”

  “Mrs. Burbank–”

  “Came highly recommended. Has social standing despite the menial task she undertakes. Has a vast inheritance any man would be pleased to acquire.”

  With each statement, she seemed to draw inside herself.

  “But.” He held up a finger. “Olivia is comfortable with you. You’re comfortable with her and I’m satisfied with the way things are running around here.”

  “Jonah.” She sighed and tucked hair behind her ear.

  “Thomas fulfilled his duty and found a nurse. He seldom, if ever, fails to meet my needs. This time, he informed me the nurse in question was of exceptional beauty and wealth. A courtship wouldn’t go amiss. I had no time to prepare for meeting her, nor send her a missive giving her my thanks for applying. She showed up on my doorstep and I could hardly turn her away. We discussed the position at length. I explained that I’m perfectly happy with the woman currently living beneath my roof, raising my sister’s child.”

  She doubted him. Dark worry clouded her eyes. “I don’t understand. From the start you said I have to go back.”

  He leaned across the desk, resting his arms on the smooth wood. “I already told Mrs. Burbank the position is closed. I’d like you to stay.”

  “Why?”

  He could only think of one answer. The truth, whole and honest. “Because when I looked at her, I only saw you. I care for you.”

  17

  Bridgit froze like a hare scenting a dog. Her lungs refused to draw air and her heart lurched at Jonah’s words.

  I care for you.

  A warm breeze carried in the scents of flowers and wood smoke. The light from the low candles gilded his face and hands. The moment was surreal. Those four words weren’t a vow of love, but he asked as though she were free to choose her comings and goings. He would never know what it meant to be asked rather than told.

  His dark eyes searched her face as he waited for a response. Could that be hope on his face? An array of emotions assaulted her.

  “I can’t fathom anything about Mrs. Burbank not suiting your needs,” she said, delaying her answer. A yes was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. It wouldn’t do to rush headlong into anything.

  “It’s not that she displeases me. Thomas didn’t lie. The woman is attractive, well bred and has excellent references. The only thing that concerns me about her is that she isn’t you. Olivia knows you. She’s used to your voice and touch. What’s more, so am I. I could marry Charity for the dowry she’d bring me, but I don’t want it. What concerns me most is Olivia’s welfare.”

  The doubt loosened its claws. “How long would you have me stay?”

  “’Til Olivia’s grown.”

  Years. More years than her sentence carried. She barely contained her gasp. “That’s a lot to promise, Jonah.”

  “Promised and set in stone the second you agree. I’ll have a contract drawn up, if you like. After it’s settled at the Factory, of course.”

  If she’d learned one thing about him, it was that his decisions were firm. Fair, but solid. If Jonah promised years, she didn’t doubt him. He believed she was the best choice, and she would be.

  “I’ll stay,” she agreed. Relief and hope swallowed the last of the aching doubt.

  His Cupid’s bow mouth curved up, revealing even teeth, crinkling the corners of his eyes. A smile to chase away dark clouds and bolster the spirit. A smile powerful enough to quicken her heartbeat and loose excited butterflies in her stomach.

  One of the candles went out. A thin ribbon of smoke issued from the wick. Jonah leaned over and blew the other two out. Illuminated by the stars, he came around the desk, found her hand. She stood, hungry with desire for him. With quick movements, he pulled at two or three of the pins holding her hair up. It tumbled around her shoulders.

  One of his hands cupped her jaw. A tingle started there and didn’t stop until it reached the center of her, warm and comforting. She leaned into his touch.

  “Who told you of my conversation with Thomas?” he asked.

  “Millicent.” The name slipped from her lips before she considered his question.

  “I won’t tolerate her presence here any longer if she can’t mind her tongue.”

  He stroked his thumb over her lips. They parted and she tasted the salty flavor left behind. Stirred by his gentle touch, her dislike of the Jackson women dissipated
like smoke. Her lips brushed the rough stubble long his jawline. She gripped his shirt and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lower lip. His hand moved from her cheek to her hair, tilting her face up.

  “I didn’t tell you how beautiful you looked today,” he whispered. His tongue traced the outer shell of her ear. When he reached the lobe, a gentle nip sent a shiver of anticipation slithering down her spine, sparking excitement in her belly.

  “Was I?” she asked vaguely.

  “More than any other woman here.”

  She didn’t doubt him this time. He eased her into the chair again, kneeling before her. The soft petticoats rustled as his hand slipped beneath her skirt, stroking from ankle to thigh.

  “Right here?” she whispered, pushing her fingers through the short, sleek locks of raven-dark hair.

  Long fingers rolled her stockings down, leaving them bunched at her ankles.

  “Right…” he kissed the inside of her right knee, then the left, “here.”

  Quite on their own, her legs parted and he settled between them. A mild nip at her thigh caused her to squirm with delight. Jonah’s hand paused at the apex of her thighs, then he slipped a finger between her folds.

  He took his time pressing kisses against her fevered flesh as he teased her. Blood pounded through her veins. He dipped two fingers inside her, moving slowly. She couldn’t help the mewl of pleasure that left her throat.

  His thumb caressed the aching nub. Her hips moved of their own accord. His fingers delved deeper and he chuckled when she met them.

  “Please, Jonah,” she begged.

  “Not just yet, love,” he whispered.

  “But–”

  He withdrew from her. “I want to taste you.”

  Bridgit was uncertain what he meant, but too far gone with hungry passion to resist. His mouth brushed her thigh, leaving a line of hot kisses along it. She was aware of what he was doing only a second before his mouth closed around her swollen nub.

  Never had she dreamed a man would want to kiss her there, although she'd heard whispers about such things from other women at the Factory. All concern fled when his tongue inched along her folds. Bridgit’s hands gripped the chair arms as she pulled her knees up. He explored every crease methodically, kissing and nibbling until the white-hot heat building inside her caused her to cry out.