Wild Western Women Boxed Set

by Kirsten Osbourne

  God help him, but her frustration filled his heart and made him want to kiss her even more. “What part? I thought you were The Indomitable Lady Eve,” he said with a grin.

  At last she turned fully toward him, her shoulders and chin dropping. He took a step toward her. She glanced up at him through long, dark lashes and his heart skipped a beat. His body responded with force that would shock his congregation.

  “I’m not indomitable at all,” she confessed. “In fact, I’m as weak and broken as a ship on the rocks.”

  He smiled, stroking the backs of his fingers along the curve of her cheek. “I’ve never seen a ship, so I wouldn’t know what one looks like, broken or whole.”

  “You really haven’t?” She blinked, face flushing pink under his fingers.

  The urge to kiss her was so powerful it pulsed through every fiber of his body.

  “I’ve lived my whole life on the frontier,” he confessed. “We don’t have a lot of oceans. But now we have you, and you seem as strong as anything to me.”

  Her lips quivered as though she didn’t know whether to smile or weep. “Oh, Mark,” she whispered. “I don’t care what people call me, I’ve only ever truly felt strong when I’m with you.” She took a breath. “If you’re there with me, I’ll go anywhere, even to Amelia’s house.”

  The sunburst of joy that filled Mark’s chest spread like a firework, filling him to his fingers and toes. Heedless of his surroundings, he leaned closer and kissed her. Her soft lips under his were a revelation. He edged closer, nudging her lips apart with his and tasting her. His tongue touched hers, his heart catching in his chest. He could see himself kissing Eve for hours, tasting the salt of her skin and filling her with enough love to drive away all her demons. He could love her forever.

  “Rev. Andrews!”

  As if doused with ice water, Mark pulled away from Eve’s delicious mouth. He glanced around, disoriented, before finding Sadie and Angus McGee a few feet away. They were dressed in fine clothes, enjoying an evening out. Sadie stared at him, thoroughly scandalized. Angus winked.

  “We are in a public place, Rev. Andrews,” Sadie hissed.

  Of all things, laughter bubbled up from the bottom of Mark’s soul. “So we are, Mrs. McGee, so we are.”

  He nodded to her and twisted to offer his arm to a stunned Eve. Eve’s gloved fingers were pressed to her rosy lips and her blue eyes were wide, but it took only a moment for her to recover enough to take his arm.

  “Good evening, Mrs. McGee, Mr. McGee,” she said with rattled grace. “If you will excuse us, we’re having supper with my sister and her husband at their ranch.”

  Mark led Eve off, Sadie clucking behind them. He held the hotel door for Eve with a guilty grin and managed not to burst into laughter until they were safely out in the frigid night.

  “I don’t suppose Mrs. McGee will ever forgive me for that one,” he said as he took Eve’s arm and led her across the street to the wagon he had waiting in front of the church.

  “On the contrary,” Eve said. “I think you could be forgiven for just about anything.”

  “From your lips straight to God’s ears,” he said with a grin. The way he was feeling, he’d need forgiveness.

  The ride out to the ranch cooled Mark’s flaring passion all too soon. Eve began with what he assumed was stout resolution to make the best of things. She chattered about steam ships crossing the Atlantic and riding in an automobile in California and how it had felt like racing the wind itself. She grew quieter as Cold Springs disappeared behind them, giving way to stretching farms and ranches. By the time he turned the wagon onto the long drive leading through the front of the Quinlan ranch and up to the old farmhouse, she was silent.

  Mark had always admired the Quinlan farmhouse. It was a solid three stories with dormer windows and a wide porch that wrapped around all four sides. Unlike the houses in town, it hadn’t been electrified yet, which gave it an old fashioned charm. Wicker furniture made the porch as hospitable as any interior room, although most of it was now covered for winter. Homey smoke rose from the chimneys and a candle stood in every window. More than that, pine boughs and red ribbons lined the roof—matching the decorations on the barn across the way—and a bright wreath hung on the door.

  Eve stopped to stare at it as they mounted the steps and stood on the porch.

  “Are you all right?” Mark asked. He rested a hand on her back, hoping she could feel the steadiness of his arm behind her.

  She replied with a tight nod.

  “You’re going to do just fine,” he told her. He was so sure of it, sure of her, that he nudged her to take a step forward. “She’s your sister and she loves you, no matter what arguments you’ve had. And I’ll be right here the whole time.”

  She stopped before they reached the door and turned to him. Standing so close, it was almost as if he embraced her. She laid her gloved hand on his chest.

  “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

  He would climb mountains for this woman, fight a war to make her smile. The surety of it filled him with a confidence only his service to God had ever given him.

  “Never,” he replied.

  He leaned closer to her, staring at her lips. He could taste them already.

  The door opened, startling them with a burst of light.

  “I thought that was you two I saw out here,” Eric said. He held Darcy in his arms and wore a grin that said he knew exactly what they’d been about to do. “Eve you look pretty as a picture tonight,” he went on. “You too, Reverend.”

  “Thank you, Eric. You’re such a charmer,” Eve said. It was a pale imitation of her usual act, which, in Mark’s opinion, was a good thing.

  “Come on in.” Eric stepped aside.

  Mark gestured for Eve to walk ahead of him. She stiffened her back, lifted her chin, and walked into the cozy central hallway of Eric and Amelia’s house. Mark followed behind, exchanging a glance with Eric. This plan of theirs had better work or the two of them would be in for it. Eric returned his look with an arched eyebrow. He knew it too.

  “What a lovely home,” Eve said, turning in the hallway to glance up the stairs and then peeking into a dining room where a table was already set with festive arrangements.

  Mark caught her expression in profile as she turned. Not even a minute in and the stress on her face was evident. He strode to her side and touched her arm. In turn she clamped his hand in a grip that would bruise.

  “It was my parents’ house,” Eric explained. He gestured for them to follow him into the vast living room that stretched the whole length of the house on one side. “Amelia and I have put a lot of work into it this last year. Ma and Pa always expected to have a lot of kids, so they made room for them. But it was just me and Curtis in the end. Curtis is my cousin. He lives in Toronto now,” he explained.

  Eve hummed, but Mark wasn’t sure she’d heard. She was too busy staring at the living room.

  Two worn but comfortable-looking sofas and a handful of overstuffed chairs were arranged for conversation around a cheery, roaring fireplace. The mantel of the fireplace was decorated with holly and ribbons and candles. Pictures of people—some paintings, some photographs, one of Eric, Amelia, and Darcy—hung on the walls, along with a faded cross-stitch sampler. A tall Christmas tree stood in the far corner, adorned with red lacquered apples, silver bells, and small white candles that were unlit.

  With all of that, Eve’s eyes shot straight to the cradle that stood halfway between the Christmas tree and the fireplace. She squeezed Mark’s hand with a death-grip while her other hand dropped to hold her stomach. Mark’s urge to protect her flared.

  “It’s perfect,” she whispered with misery that struck him like a fist in his gut.

  “Is that them?” Amelia’s voice sounded from around the corner.

  A moment later, she appeared from a doorway at the far end of the room, apron wrapped around her bulging stomach. Her hair was done up in a simple bun and she wore a smile that was at on
ce anxious and excited.

  With a wordless exclamation, she stopped and caressed her stomach.

  “This one is as excited to see you as I am,” she said. “He or she has been rolling around, dancing a jig in anticipation.”

  Eve swayed so heavily that Mark thought she might swoon. He shifted to rest his arm around her waist, not caring what Eric or Amelia read into it. At the moment, Eve was his only concern.

  “Supper is nearly ready,” Amelia went on. She took a few more steps toward them. Her face pinched in confusion as Eve backed away. “I was expecting you sooner.”

  “It’s such a beautiful night,” Mark said when Eve kept her lips pressed firmly shut, her stricken look locked on Amelia’s stomach. “We decided to drive slowly, look at the stars.”

  A long, shaky silence filled the room.

  Eve sucked in a breath as if awaking from a spell.

  “Yes, there are so many stars to see out here. Far more than in the cities I’ve traveled through. Did you say supper was ready? We should go right in.”

  She tugged on Mark’s hand and pulled him back through the living room to the hall.

  “Where are you going?” Amelia called after them.

  “Let me help you bring the food in, sweetheart.” Eric intercepted her.

  “But just because the food is ready doesn’t mean we have to eat right away,” Amelia protested. “I thought we could sit and talk for a while. You built the fire so we could enjoy it.”

  “We will, we will,” Eric said.

  “But—”

  She was silenced.

  The moment Mark and Eve were safe in the hall, Eve whirled to face him.

  “I can’t do this, Mark,” she insisted, face pale and eyes glassy with tears. “I can’t be here. It’s too… too… perfect.”

  The urge to fight something, wrestle something to save Eve from her anxiety, welled up in Mark’s gut but had nowhere to go. He rested his palm against the side of her hot face.

  “What’s wrong, Eve? What is it?”

  She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Please tell me,” he said. “Whatever it is, I can help.”

  “No you can’t.” Her voice was small and breathy. “It’s too late for help.”

  “It’s never too late,” he contradicted her with all the gentleness he could summon. “Please, just tell me.”

  “I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t belong here.” Eve squeezed her eyes shut. She swayed toward him. With her head lowered, she said, “This life. I can never have this and I can’t bear it. The baby….”

  Mark blinked, working to puzzle out what she meant. “But I thought you loved children. I know you do; I’ve seen you with them.”

  If anything, his comment sent her closer to tears. The sound of Eric and Amelia entering the dining room from the other end of the hall—of dishes being put on the table, of Darcy chattering and Eric and Amelia murmuring—made Eve lift her head and open her eyes. She took a deep breath. Her attempt to steel her courage was so brave while Mark felt so helpless.

  “I do love children,” she spoke in a broken whisper. “So much. But I… I can’t—”

  “For heaven’s sake, Eve. You were the one who wanted to rush supper. Come sit down before it gets cold.”

  Amelia rounded the corner into the hall from the dining room. She stopped when she saw the state Eve was in, how close Mark stood to her.

  “Oh,” she said, shoulders dropping. “I… I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing at all to be sorry about.” Eve snapped into the role of bright, smiling houseguest so fast she left Mark at a loss. She pulled away from him and opened her arms in a theatrical gesture. “Your house is so beautiful, Amelia. You’ve done so well for yourself. I am simply bursting with hunger and eagerness to sample your cooking.”

  She charged on into the dining room, leaving a startled Amelia in her wake. Mark hurried after her, more anxious over this new, shining Eve than he’d been over the vulnerable one.

  Eric was just finishing settling Darcy in her special chair as Eve asked, “Where shall I sit?”

  The concern on Eric’s face was clear. He straightened to answer, but Amelia beat him to it.

  “Why don’t you and Rev. Andrews sit on this side of the table so that you can see the view outside,” Amelia attempted to resume her role as hostess, one hand rubbing her belly. “It’s mostly dark now, but you can still see a bit of the horizon.”

  “Yes, it’s lovely,” Eve replied, looking out the window instead of at her sister.

  Trying not to frown, Mark slipped behind Eve and held out one of the chairs at the table for her. She sent him a grateful smile that went far beyond his manners. As she took her seat, Amelia removed her apron and circled around the table to where Eric held her chair for her, next to Darcy’s highchair. Amelia sank into the chair opposite Eve with a wince and a sigh, and Mark and Eric took the seats beside the women, opposite each other.

  “It’s getting so difficult just to sit at a table these days,” Amelia opened the conversation with a self-effacing laugh. “I’m so round that I can hardly reach my plate.”

  Eve sought out Mark’s hand under the table. He took hers and squeezed it with as much reassurance as he could muster.

  “When I was in New York City last year, Mr. William Randolph Hurst treated our troupe to supper in the grand ballroom of the Waldorf Hotel. We sat at a table that was twice as long as this house!” Eve exclaimed, her eyes wide.

  She may have intended the look to be one of amazement, but Mark could see only desperation. He burned to know what was upsetting her, so much so that Eric had to clear his throat before Mark realized he was offering him a plate piled with food.

  “Thank you.” Mark recovered and took the plate, setting it in front of Eve.

  Amelia watched the gesture with a frown. “Guests should be served first, Rev. Andrews.”

  “Yes, of course,” he replied, not sure what she meant.

  “That means you,” she said. “Eve is family.”

  “Oh, you know that isn’t really true anymore. You left me and have a family of your own now.” Eve laughed and waved the idea away with her free hand before taking up her fork and focusing on the meal.

  Amelia blanched. “Well! This is exactly what I—”

  “Sweetheart, it’s all right,” Eric interrupted. His expression was as serious as stone as he fixed another plate and handed it to Mark.

  Mark exchanged a look with him that was half an apology and half dread for what was to come.

  “Amelia and I stayed at a nice hotel in New York City when I first brought her over here,” Eric attempted to keep the conversation going. “It wasn’t so fine as the Waldorf, though.”

  “It was a grand hotel,” Amelia added hesitantly when Eric met her eyes. She frowned and pressed her lips together, glancing from her husband to Eve—who had her head down and her full attention on her plate. “That’s where I first met Michael and Charlotte West. I wish you’d let me take you over to their house for tea, Eve. Charlie has done such marvelous things with their new house. Her little Eloise is the most darling toddler and Michael, Jr. is the sweetest baby boy I’ve ever seen.”

  Eve put her fork down so fast Mark wasn’t sure if she had dropped it. Her face was pale. “Mr. Hurst served us lobster for dinner that time,” she said, staring at the window over Amelia’s shoulder with a glassy look. “That was the first time I’d had it. Delicious, if I do say so myself, but of course I managed to spill melted butter everywhere. Silly me.”

  Again the conversation ground to a halt. Eric filled a plate for Amelia and one for himself, then took his seat across from Mark. Darcy giggled and dug a hand into her mashed potatoes, but none of the adults noticed or bothered to stop her.

  “We… we had a beautiful dining room table at our country home growing up,” Amelia tried again to strike up a conversation. “Didn’t we, Eve?”

  “Yes, we did,” Eve answered. Under the table, he
r hand trembled in Mark’s.

  “Our parents used to host grand parties in the summer,” Amelia said.

  “Did they?” Mark answered.

  Eve added nothing. The conversation died again. Amelia watched Eve, visibly at a loss.

  Eric met Mark’s eyes across the table. He shook his head, cut into his chicken, and grimaced as though they were in for a long night.

  “I wonder if your parents’ parties compare at all to the community picnics that Cold Springs likes to host,” Mark took a stab at lightening the mood. “We sure do like a good get-together.”

  “That’s right,” Eric added as he chewed. He swallowed and said, “You should come back for the Fourth of July to see the fireworks.”

  “I should,” Eve agreed. She picked up her fork but used it only to push food around her plate. “In fact, I’ve been thinking that I should stay in Cold Springs entirely.”

  Mark’s heart leapt at the words. “That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve heard all week.” He failed shamelessly to keep his emotion off his face.

  Eve met his smile with a radiance that could have lifted him off his feet.

  “Are you sure you’re not being too hasty?” Amelia asked with an edge in her voice, glancing between them.

  Mark’s patience with people disapproving of his right to love came to a sharp end. “If Eve wants to move to Cold Springs permanently, why, I’ll support her in every way. She’s been so helpful with the Christmas pageant and so full of ideas for the future. You should get her to tell you about the thought she had about Easter.”

  “You’re too kind,” Eve said, a hint of color rising to her cheeks.

  “Yes, he is,” Amelia mumbled.

  Eve plunked down her fork again. “I’m sorry, Amelia, is there something you would like to say to me?”

  Amelia stared at her across the table. “I said all that I needed to say the other day.”

  Another piece fit into place in Mark’s mind. He swallowed a bite of green beans and frowned. After years of counseling the downtrodden and degenerate, the lost and the lazy, the one thing he had never figured out how to soothe was two women with grievances against each other.