“I’d rather not. I want my first patent to be the best I can offer, not some crazy idea no one wants. Besides, it costs money. Fixing the chicken coop comes first.”
Turning, she stopped at the bright smile he was directing at her. “What?”
He smiled even bigger. “You said the first thing you patent. I’m glad you’re not giving up.”
She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
His smile disappeared. “For what?”
She froze. Why had she kissed him? The impression his stubble left on the soft skin of her lips felt hot. “For letting me spend a ridiculous amount of time in that cabin,” she whispered.
“No problem.” His voice was raspy, and his gaze riveted to hers.
Their warm breath mingled and she couldn’t help but wonder what his lips, rather than his beard, would feel like against her own.
He didn’t move, but his eyes did. Down.
Seemed he was thinking the same thing. Leaning toward a fire wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but she let herself lean, and when he did likewise, she closed her eyes.
His mouth landed gently upon hers, but instead of pressing hard against her, his lips moved tenderly, achingly slow. His hand came up to cup one side of her jaw, and ever so slightly, he pulled her closer. Warmth pooled somewhere in her middle, sweet and decadent, and she let herself kiss him back.
Needing a breath, she pulled away. “I…” Her heart was beating too fast and she couldn’t remember what she was going to say.
His features were screwed up as he looked at her. Was he confused … or dismayed?
He certainly wasn’t pulling her back in for another kiss.
Well, of course he wasn’t. Who was she fooling? Just because he was a good man, that didn’t mean he’d find her kisses any more enjoyable than the others had. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes again. “Good night.”
Plunking her teacup onto the counter, she didn’t stay to clean up what she’d just spilled.
She couldn’t remain in his presence any longer without letting feelings grow that shouldn’t.
Tonight, she’d pray for it all to go away.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nolan walked out to the cabin where Corinne had remained all evening once again, likely in an attempt to avoid him. He swung his lamp in a wide arc to make sure he was still on the path. The overgrown patches were getting worn down now, but it wasn’t easy to follow in the dark.
He shouldn’t have kissed her last night. He’d promised if he wanted to change their arrangement, he’d ask—and he’d certainly not asked.
But he’d not thought to do so when she’d looked so willing, and with the way she’d melted into him, he’d lost all awareness of anything other than her lips…
He’d wanted to kiss her again but wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain himself.
He’d reveled in the sparks of awareness. He’d soaked up the delicious warmth. He’d immersed himself in the sensation.
Sensations he replayed every few seconds.
He’d been jittery waiting for Corinne to come down for breakfast this morning. Partially because he knew how awkward it would be, and partially because she’d not been opposed to his kiss in the moment, even if she had run afterwards.
She felt something for him. Even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.
But she hadn’t come down before he’d left for Armelle, and then she’d skipped dinner, sequestering herself in the cabin. With every quarter hour past sunset, his worry grew. Was she talking herself out of whatever she was feeling for him, or had she had an accident doing an experiment?
If she wasn’t in trouble, should he apologize for last night’s kiss or pretend it didn’t happen? Assure her he’d never let it happen again?
He certainly didn’t want to do any of those things.
But she’d said if he asked to court her and she refused, he’d have to concede. He couldn’t let this end so soon.
With the cabin looming in front of him, he hadn’t much time to decide—
A rustle to his left made him stop. He turned and held up his lantern, narrowing his eyes to peer into the shadows.
Other than worrying about Corinne staying out so late, learning that his cousin wasn’t searching for property had made it hard to concentrate on anything once he’d returned from town.
Someone at the bar had mentioned Matt talked of property, but no one knew if he’d visited the courthouse, the lawyer, or Bowen McGill. Those three would’ve been where he’d have started to inquire after land.
The lure of the poker table likely accounted for Matt’s lack of searching though. Evidently, plenty of newcomers had been willing to bet against him, and he was raking in dough every night.
Talking instead of doing had always been Matt’s way, so maybe the annoying problems plaguing the ranch had nothing to do with his cousin. Matt was too lazy to play pranks for no good reason, and as long as they were married, Matt couldn’t have the ranch.
Of course, if Corinne were no longer around…
His heart flopped and his breathing grew shallow. No. Matt hadn’t the gumption to take out his wife. Matt might be a braggart, but that’s all he was—a talker.
Surely.
And yet…
Light flickered dimly in the cabin’s windows. Slightly reassuring.
To the left, a shiver of movement arrested his attention again. He slowed as he scanned the area. “Mickey?”
Hadn’t Corinne taken the dog with her?
No black mutt bounded out of the overgrowth, but a shadow crouched not far from the cabin. Too big to be insignificant, but what—
It moved.
He squinted, his heartbeat on the uptick. If only the cloud cover wasn’t so thick.
If he didn’t check it out, he’d worry all night. He steeled himself and trudged into the brush to assure—
Zip.
“Ahhh!” Nolan landed flat on his back, his false leg yanked out from under him. “Ooof.”
He groaned at the ache pounding in his head where it had hit ground. The rock jabbing him in the back was uncomfortable, but he lay unmoving. What on earth?
He tried to move, but his leg was caught up in—
Wait, where was his lamp? He snapped his head to the side, thankful to discover its outline rocking back and forth in the dark as it settled to a stop, its flame extinguished. Fighting a grass fire wouldn’t have been fun right now—or even possible. What was he tangled in?
“Who’s there?” Corinne’s voice sounded from near the cabin.
A strong light pierced the dark.
What kind of lamp did she have that was so bright? The light moved closer as he attempted to push himself into a sitting position, struggling against whatever had hold of his leg.
“I said, who’s there?” Her voice turned menacing.
“Me,” he called back, and then grimaced at the ringing bouncing around between his ears. He reached up to feel if he was bleeding somewhere on the back of his head. “Nolan.”
“Why are you tromping through the brush at this time of night?” She came up beside him, her light blinding, making him wince. “That snare wasn’t meant for you.”
A snare? “Who was it meant for?”
“The coyotes.” She set down her lamp and grabbed whatever invisible wire had him tethered. “I’m glad it worked though. I’ve not set one before.”
“I guess I should be happy I helped you figure that out?” Though his head certainly wasn’t.
Instead of releasing his foot, she looked down at him and shook her head. “What were you doing out here, anyway?”
Turning her lamp so it no longer blinded him, he noted the brightness came from the curved mirrors she’d fitted inside the lamp’s housing. He aimed the beam of light toward this evening’s nemesis, a stump with broken branches piled on top of it. “I forged into the brush to be sure that stump knew I would have none of its shenanigans.”
“What?” She t
urned to see what he’d illuminated.
“That stump waved its leafy arms at me, threatening your very life, if you can believe it.” He tried to sit in a more dignified position, but she hadn’t loosened the snare. “I was going to teach it a lesson, but instead you taught me one. Never underestimate my wife and her contraptions.”
Though the light barely illuminated her face, he could make out her grin. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He relaxed when she started working on releasing him from the wire. “Are you worried about coyotes?”
He tried to sit up again, but with his inability to flex his leg, he gave up and leaned back on his elbows.
“Not worried for myself, but the chicks. We don’t have a rooster anymore to alert us—not that he did last time.”
The tension on his leg disappeared, and it fell to the ground with a thud.
“So you set up a snare out here?” How would that help the chickens?
“I figured there was too much open space around the coop for a coyote to get snared there.” She leaned down and grabbed hold of his ankle.
He turned the lamp toward her so she could see better.
“Thanks.” She worked on loosening the wire and pulling it off. “The coyotes come up here, though. Figured if they were going to make a nuisance of themselves, I’d make them regret it.”
“What would you do if you caught one?”
“Get one of the men to take care of it.” She pulled off the snare and sat back to look at him, staying in a crouch.
Was that a smile on her face? The shadows were too harsh for him to be certain.
“Of course, you’re not a coyote. At first, I thought I might’ve caught your cousin.”
“So you’re worried about him, too?”
Corinne shrugged then stood and held out her hand as if he were a woman in need of assistance.
For a second, he considered scrambling up on his own to preserve his one last shred of dignity, but the temptation to hold her hand was too much. Once on his feet, he held on, testing if his false foot had twisted in the fall.
It felt fine enough, but he didn’t release her. He looked down, wishing he could see her eyes in the dark. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” She jerked back. “I was expecting a lecture.”
“Nope.” With her this close, he could smell something floral and clean wafting from her. He groaned. How could she smell this good after a full day’s work?
“Are you hurt?” Her free hand ran up his arm and over his shoulder.
Was it wrong not to answer, to let her hand continue to wander?
He closed his eyes. He’d not known his body had been craving touch this badly—or maybe just her touch.
When she dropped her hand, he blew out a breath. “I don’t think anything’s hurt other than my pride.”
She stepped back. “I’m rather embarrassed about that. If I set any more snares, I’ll let you know.”
“Please do, and tell us all.” He turned to pick up his lamp, hoping not to find broken glass. Luckily, his light had landed on a thick clump of vegetation.
“Are you worried about Matt?” She picked up her own lamp. “Being out here?”
“I wasn’t until I started walking to check on you. He’s never been one to think highly of women and your very existence ruins his plans.”
“You mean…?” She quieted as she matched her stride to his. “Surely not. What about his fiancée? Don’t you think he thinks highly of her?”
“Of her savings accounts, yes—not to mention she’s pretty. Whether they actually get along, who knows?”
“I like how we get along,” she said softly as they approached the cabin’s front door.
He slowed, not sure how to respond—how to tell her the truth without scaring her off. Because he more than liked how they got along. He wished they got along better—much, much better. “Uh, me, too.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly brilliant. But she’d outlawed anything romantic-sounding, so what could he say but the unvarnished truth? “You’re certainly nicer to have around than Matt.”
She gave him a playful push and then stepped in front of him to enter the cabin. “Did you two ever get along?”
He followed her in. “When we were little, maybe. But ever since that first summer after I lost my leg, we’ve been competing for my father’s affection, and I always lost.”
Taking a seat on a stool, he readjusted the strap holding his leg as best he could through his trousers.
“Let me tidy up, and I’ll walk back with you.”
As she moved about organizing her tables, it was clear she was not interested in talking anymore.
Was last night’s kiss plaguing her as much as it was him? If only he were certain she’d not shut him down if he tried to talk about it. Had he done something wrong?
No, he’d simply kissed her. Whereas she’d offered to be intimate without even so much as an “I love you.”
And why did that bother him anyway? Would he have been able to utter those three words to her?
The moment he’d thought Matt might kidnap Corinne—or worse—the anxiety that had gripped him wasn’t because he feared losing the ranch, but his wife.
His first thoughts upon waking were of her. If he could find an excuse to be closer to where she was working during the day, he took it.
She was everything a sane man wanted. If Matt so much as laid a hand on her, he’d fight him, even knowing he’d likely lose.
If he dreamed about sleeping with her once, he’d dreamed it a hundred times.
And after she’d kissed him, the times he’d wanted to ask her to allow him to do so again were too innumerable to count.
She couldn’t do or say anything that would ever compel him to ask for a separation. And it wasn’t just because he was lonely.
What was there left to believe but to consider himself in love?
And love wasn’t what she wanted.
But then, after hearing how her father and fiancés had treated her, she likely didn’t know what love could be like. Not that he did either really, but what he felt for her…
He knew how it was to yearn to be loved but give up on it to avoid inevitable anguish. He’d done everything he could to make his father happy, but it hadn’t been enough.
But he’d vowed to love Corinne as Christ loved the church. Though he hadn’t promised to love her as a man loved a woman, he could still love her. Nothing could stop him from putting her needs above his—
“Are you ready?”
He startled to find Corinne beside him. He took a quick glance around and realized she’d blown out all the lamps in the cabin except her own. “Am I ready?”
She nodded, her eyebrows tweaked up at his silly question.
But it wasn’t a silly question.
Was he ready? Not in regard to leaving the cabin, but to loving her sacrificially, knowing he may never gain her love in return.
She stood waiting, an unspoken question in her eyes.
“Yes, I think so.”
Or rather, he had no choice.
And what was wrong with loving a woman he’d promised to live with for the rest of his life? If he’d married for love, and his bride became frail or sick, he’d not stop loving her. He’d love her in the ways she could be loved.
So he’d do that. Love Corinne in the ways she could be loved.
“Let’s go.” He picked up his dead lamp and limped quickly for the door, so he could hold it open. “After you.”
She ducked under his arm and started off into the night.
He didn’t want to scare her away, so for now, he’d say nothing about his feelings. But as for actions? He could love her without saying the words.
For he already did.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Two weeks had passed since her snare knocked Nolan to the ground, and her skin was tingling with electricity every time he came near.
Didn’t matter if they were alone, or like right now, sh
aring Sunday supper with friends, she knew exactly where he was, how close, how far, without even seeing him.
She nodded at something Annie was saying across the table, but it was as if her ears had ceased working the second she sensed Nolan walking closer. She braced herself for the feel of his fingers that would trail across her shoulders as he passed. Bracing, and yet, at the same time, eagerly awaiting.
Every time he walked by now, whether at church, in the barn, or on their way to their separate rooms at night, his touch would light upon her, skimming softly, as if he didn’t even realize his fingers were magnetized to her.
He’d also been doing a lot of whispering lately, leaning close, his warm breath stirring the curls she let hang loose.
He kept taking her hand, too, especially in town. Of course, that was for show, to keep the townsfolk from realizing their marriage was in name only, but lately he’d continue to hold her hand after everyone had walked away.
As expected, the tips of Nolan’s fingers grazed across her neck and down her shoulder as he finally moved past her to hand the bowl of raisins to Spencer.
She failed to keep from shivering as hot and cold sensations rippled through her body at his touch.
Yet, despite all his attentions, all his touching, he’d not kissed her once after that first time.
Her heart dropped into her stomach like a stone. She’d known better than to ever hope—
“Corinne, are you sure you don’t want to share that gravy with us?”
Annie’s amused tone made her snap to attention. “What?”
“The gravy.” She pointed in front of Corinne.
She looked down. Seemed she’d ladled out half the contents of the gravy boat onto her mashed potatoes. She clinked the ladle back into the boat and shoved it to the right toward Celia.
She’d almost forgotten the girl sat next to her with how her body was so attuned to Nolan on her left.
He put his arm around the back of her chair, and his thumb lightly grazed the top of her shoulder. And now he was making circles against her skin through her blouse. Did he even realize he was doing that? He was likely subconsciously mirroring Jacob and Annie across the table—but his absentminded caress was nothing her former fiancés would’ve done except behind closed doors. They’d never shown her affection in public.
Pretending to Wed Page 20
