by Vanessa Vale
Hyacinth
Wildflowers Of Montana
Book 2
By Vanessa Vale
© 2015 Vanessa Vale
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
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and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
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When handsome Jackson Reed comes home from the army, he catches the immediate attention of the seven Lenox daughters. But he only has eyes for one — beautiful Hyacinth Lenox. It's apparent that she notices him as well, so why is she doing everything she can to avoid him?
Hyacinth can't stop thinking about the sandy-haired newcomer, but while she longs for happiness with Jackson, she feels unworthy to marry him or anyone else. Guilt from a tragic childhood incident dogs her even into adulthood, leaving her to feel undeserving of Jackson's love.
But Jackson isn't a man so easily dissuaded. He's determined to rid Hyacinth of her pain and make her his wife. Can he heal her past hurt and awaken her to the carnal pleasures he wants just with her? He senses a great capacity for love and passion in this fair Lenox flower. Unlocking it will mean a battle of wills, but love is worth the fight.
Follow the eight Lenox sisters through this historical erotic series that's as big and bold as the Montana Sky. The Wildflowers of Montana continues with Hyacinth and her sharpshooting hero.
HYACINTH
Wildflowers of Montana – Book 2
CHAPTER ONE
HYACINTH
I should have been listening to the minister's sermon, as he was a rather good speaker. The morning's topic of forgiveness was something I could have wholeheartedly used, but my mind was directed elsewhere. God couldn't really blame me, for Jackson Reed sat in the pew in front of me. Because of his large size, I couldn't see the minister without leaning to my left and clonking heads with Marigold. I could just close my eyes and let the word of God flow through me, but instead took the opportunity that God was affording me to look my fill at the man who'd first caught my attention the minute he first stepped onto our ranch.
I couldn't sit at any other time and shamelessly stare at Jackson, especially from so close a distance, for then not only he would know, but so would my sisters—the six who still lived at home—lined up along the pew on either side of me. While I tried to watch him surreptitiously, my sisters were not so subtle. In fact, they often crowded a window at the house in pairs or trios if he were within view.
Jackson’s hair was very fair, closely shorn on the sides and longer on the top. He parted it to the right and although I couldn't see it, I knew it fell down over his forehead. His hair was marked by a crease from the hat that lay in his lap. The skin on the back of his neck was tanned and when he turned his head slightly to the side I could see his clean-shaven jaw. I knew the square angle of it as well as the long line of his nose, his strong brow and very blue eyes. He had eyes that when focused on me, didn't just see me, but saw into me. It was very unnerving, and every time Jackson spoke to me, I was tongue-tied and flustered.
This was why I took this hour to take in the details I would otherwise miss. Surely God had given me this time on purpose. I observed the soft flannel of his blue shirt that surely matched his eyes, the very pale hairs that dusted his earlobes, visible when the sun through the church windows fell on him just right. When I breathed in, I could pick up a hint of his scent. Mint and leather.
A nudge from Marigold had me breaking my reverie. She raised and lowered her eyebrows and tilted her head toward Jackson, silently telling me how appealing he was. No words were needed, for she and Lily and Iris had simpered enough about him since his arrival two months back. In reply, I grabbed the hymnal from the back of the pew and opened to the page the minister called out. When the piano began to play, it wasn't the words of the song that had my attention, but the deep baritone in front of me singing the words. I'd just learned one more thing about Jackson Reed; he could sing very well.
When the service ended a short time later, we stood and Marigold leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Do you have any idea what the sermon was about?” She giggled and I frowned. I waited for Lily, on my other side, to move out into the aisle and I followed.
“Jackson, did you find the sermon informative?” Lily asked. She was not shy around the man and didn't hesitate to pull him into conversation, her interest in him blatant. It was clear, at least to me, he did not return any of her interest, but offered her safe and neutral replies.
He looked to Lily and smiled. I was jealous of her in that moment, for he gave her a smile and she did not appreciate it. She wanted it, most assuredly, but did not understand the value of Jackson's attentions.
“Do you have someone you should be offering forgiveness?” he asked her. She stepped out into the aisle and he held out his hand in a gesture that I should follow her. The remainder of the Lenox pew moved in behind us down the aisle and the conversation stopped until we were once again outside.
“I should forgive Lily, for she took the ribbon I was going to add to my bonnet,” Iris replied.
“She also used my lilac scented soap,” Marigold added.
Lily didn't look the least bit contrite. “Yes, but it was in trade. I gave you some of the lace to put on your new dress in trade for the ribbon.” She turned to Marigold and pointed. “That isn't your soap; it was mine to begin with. I got it for my birthday, so I should be forgiving you.”
The three of them went round in circles, arguing about who was right, Jackson forgotten. He just grinned and went to join his father who stood in the periphery. I, too, stood in the periphery, but on the other side of our large group. Once everyone had thanked the minister at the door and joined us in the open field in front of the church, Miss Esther clapped her hands to gain attention.
Of the two sisters who had saved eight orphans from the aftermath of the great Chicago fire, Miss Esther was much more pragmatic. She didn't allow any fuss, or any lip. That was why she cut off Lily, Iris and Marigold. “You three.” She pointed at them. “Mrs. Thomas needs help with the food. Go find a way to be useful, and far apart from each other.” She gave each of the girls a stern look, and although they looked somewhat contrite, they whispered to each other as they headed in the direction of the creek for the after church picnic. The large Cottonwood trees that followed the meandering water offered the only shade for miles.
“Daisy and Poppy, you are to go and help with games for the children.”
They nodded and went off with much less to-do than their sisters.
“Dahlia, you can help us get our food from the wagon.”
Miss Trudy let Miss Esther do the delegating as the group turned toward our wagon and our baskets of food that we were contributing to the picnic.
Big Ed walked side-by-side with Miss Esther and their heads were close together as they talked seriously about something. I realized I was being left alone with Jackson.
“You don't need my help?” I called. I tried to keep the panic from my voice as I asked Miss Trudy. She turned to me and smiled. “We have it all well in hand. You did the breakfast dishes, therefore you can enjoy the picnic.”
In the matter of just one minute, Miss Esther had wrangled the entire Lenox family as if we were an army regiment, with all speed and haste, leaving us alone.
My heart beat frantically and my palms were damp from frazzled nerves. I looked everywhere except at the large man beside me. I cleared my
throat. “Good day, Mr. Reed.”
As I was about to turn and flee, he grabbed my shoulder—albeit gently—halted me in my tracks and turned me about. It was the first time he'd touched me aside from helping me down from the wagon a time or two, and the feel of his large hand was very warm, even through the fabric of my dress. I gasped at the contact, not because I was afraid of him, but instead, I was afraid of myself.
“Oh, no you don't, Hyacinth Lenox.”
I tilted my head back to look at him from beneath the brim of my bonnet. He'd put his hat back on and his face was in shadow, but I could still see his clear blue eyes. “I'm not letting you run away this time.”
“I'm...I'm not running away,” I countered.
He removed his hand and bent at the waist so we were eye to eye. “No? Fleeing, then. I was hoping to share your meal with you, if you'd just invite me to do so.”
I remained silent. It was a strategy I learned long ago, for it was often better to hold your tongue than to speak.
“I have to wonder.” His hand rasped over the hint of whiskers on his chin. I questioned what that would feel like against my own fingers. “Do I smell?”
My eyes widened at his question. “Smell?” I couldn't tell him he smelled deliciously of mint or leather. I'd sound ridiculous.
“Every time I'm near, you bolt like a skittish horse. I'm thinking perhaps there's something wrong with me. I did take a bath just this morning, but perhaps I smell.”
The thought of Jackson in a tub, naked and scrubbing soap over his strong body had my upper lip perspiring. I shook my head. “No, you do not smell.”
He grinned and I caught my breath. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen. I knew other women thought John Mabry from town was good looking, and perhaps they were right, but Jackson made the man look plain. I inwardly sighed. I doubted I'd find another who made me feel as Jackson did.
“Good,” he said. “Then it is something else I've done?”
I shook my head, for the man had done nothing whatsoever. I reacted to him the same way I always had, with equal parts attraction and mild panic.
“Then it's not me?” he asked.
I shook my head again.
“Good. I'm very relieved, Hyacinth.” I took a step backwards, but he shook his head. “Not so fast. If it's not me, then it's you.”
I put my hand on my chest. “Me?” I squeaked.
Now I was really nervous, for he was getting too close to the truth. While I longed for the attention he was currently giving me, I couldn't allow any formal gesture of attraction on his part. I couldn't—wouldn't—marry, and it was not fair to Jackson to pay me any kind of attention. I was unworthy of it. Guilt constantly riddled me because I was alive while my friend Jane was not. That alone was enough to keep me from savoring any type of pleasure. She'd drowned in the very creek we stood near, while I had lived. We'd both gone in the water to splash and play, but I was the only one who had come out. From the grave, Jane could not marry, could not have a family, would never know of love or heartache, desire, or anything real. If she could have none of those things, than neither could I.
“You're avoiding me and I should find the snub rude, but instead I find it endearing.”
I frowned, and to my surprise, he lifted his thumb to rub over the spot on my forehead that crinkled into a V. His eyes held mine and I couldn't look away. I wanted to, but I...just couldn't.
“Endearing?” I licked my dry lips. “I don't understand.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth for a brief moment. “You aren't like the others. Their...infatuation is obvious and silly. As you are well aware, it is not returned. For some reason, I have to find the one woman who wants absolutely nothing to do with me as the appealing one.”
He found me appealing? When he could have any one of my sisters or even any of the marriageable ladies in town? He was interested in me? There had to be something wrong with the man, but as I looked at him, I could not find a thing.
“You don't act this way with my father or Jed Roberts or Micah Jones. Only me.”
The men of whom he spoke were kind to me. One was the mercantile owner's son, the other a landowner who had walked with me after church a few months back. They were perfectly fine and capable gentlemen, but they weren't Jackson. They didn't make me feel as Jackson did. I'd been glad I'd felt nothing for them, for my heart was not in danger. But Jackson…. He'd ruined everything.
“Your father...and the others, they are very nice.”
“Of course. Nice. No man, though, wants to be considered nice by the woman he courts. You treat me differently—running in the opposite direction at my appearance, ducking behind trees so I won't see you.”
I flushed hotly, for I had once hidden behind a tree to avoid any kind of confrontation with Jackson. I'd thought he hadn't seen me, but instead he had, but kept it to himself.
“Jackson, I apologize—”
He put his finger over my lips, silencing me. I gasped at the surprise touch. The pad of his finger was soft, and I wanted to kiss it, even dart my tongue out to know his taste.
“I don't want an apology. My point—which I seem too long in making—is that you act differently around me, which leads me to believe you are just as intrigued by me as I am by you.”
He moved his finger away and I opened my mouth to contradict him, but he spoke first.
“I intend to you court you, Hyacinth Lenox, and I will have my way in this. You've had your way too long. No more avoiding me. It's time we found out what this—” he pointed between the two of us “—is and act upon it.”
I was elated and petrified and flattered and guilty all at the same time. “Jackson, I can't...I can't accept your attentions, nor anyone else's.” I looked down at the buttons of his shirt, for these were hard words and I couldn't get them out if I looked in his earnest eyes. I couldn't be happy when Jane's death had been my fault. The accident weighed heavily upon my shoulders, and it was not a burden I could give to someone else to carry. So I would hold it and deny myself the pleasure of a life that I didn't deserve. “I can't marry. I won't, so you should find a woman who is interested in that. In you.”
I glanced up at him briefly and I saw surprise, but also a touch of anger. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw clenched. Perhaps he just didn't like being turned down. It didn't matter. I felt as if my heart had been dropped on the ground and run over by a stampede of cattle. “Goodbye,” I whispered, my tears clogging my throat not allowing anything more.
“Hyacinth,” Jackson groaned.
I shook my head and the buttons on his shirt blurred as my eyes filled with tears. I had to flee before I made a fool of myself.
“Elizabeth Seabury,” I blurted. “She has had her eye on you. I'm sure she'd be happy to share her meal with you.” I didn't wait for him to respond, but turned on my heel and fled, something at which I was very, very skilled.
CHAPTER TWO
JACKSON
Hyacinth Lenox was the most frustrating woman I'd ever met. She was also the most beautiful. The first time I saw her was the morning after my arrival at the ranch. My father and I had been invited to the big house for breakfast. I'd known there were nine women in the large house—one had just married and moved to the neighboring ranch—and expected it to be chaotic. What I'd discovered was that women were absolutely nothing like a group of men. I'd spent twelve years of my life in the army and mealtime could be hectic in any mess hall or even out over a campfire when we were hungry enough.
But when we'd gone through the back door of the Lenox house, it was like watching a tornado indoors. Two people had been plating food being cooked at the stove. Two others had set the table while two more fought over a torn dress hem. Another two were doing each other's hair. And the din! The noise had been like nothing I'd heard before. Everyone had talked at once over the sounds of dishes clattering and utensils thumping down onto the table. And in the mix of all that craziness had sat Hyacinth. She'd been quietly and calmly sewing the hem of
a skirt that was being argued over, a placid smile on her face. For a moment I'd wondered if she were deaf, for the noise did not seem to bother her in the least.
The sun came through the window and lit her up. Her hair was a mahogany color, and pulled back into a simple bun at her nape. Her skin was strikingly pale in contrast, and as she was looking down, I could not see her eyes. It did not matter, for I'd known then and there that she would be mine. I hadn't needed for her look at me to know it. I'd felt it deep down in my bones. It had definitely been love at first sight, just as my father had said was the way with him and my mother. When Hyacinth had lifted her head, my feelings had been confirmed. The fact that her eyes and fringed with stunningly long lashes was irrelevant. They had widened in surprise at the sight of me, and I'd been pleased, but when she'd turned her head back to her sewing, I'd known I had my work cut out for me.
That had been two months ago. Two months of the one woman I hoped would look at me avoiding my gaze. Hell, she avoided everything about me. When I came into a room, she left. If I was in the stable and she wanted a horse, she chose to walk instead. If she brought food to the bunkhouse, she asked for my father or the other men, not me. She even took to hiding behind trees and ducking around doorways. This wasn't typical disinterest. This was outright avoidance. And I'd had enough.
“I thought Rose was a hard one to tame,” Chance Goodman said as he came to stand beside me, speaking of his new bride. We both watched Hyacinth's retreating form until she was swallowed up by a group of women at the baked goods table. I doubted my friend had taken notice of the sway of her hips or the way the sun glinted off her dark hair since he was newly married and had claimed Rose for his own. I, however, did.
I shook Chance's hand in greeting, for I needed to turn my thoughts away from Hyacinth's delectable body, for a cock stand at a church picnic was not a good thing. Chance and I were of comparable height, but I was broader through the shoulders and had twenty pounds on the man. He wasn't small; I was just very large.
