by Regina Scott
“He thought it might be the answer to my needs,” MacLaren went on, then maddeningly left it at that.
The answer to his needs? She could only assume the man referred to his need for a wife. Goodness, the man was too plainspoken! She felt a flush rising above the neck of her royal blue dress.
Stalling to gather her wits, she sipped her tea. Land sakes, she might as well be as frank as he was. “So you’ve decided it’s time to settle down and raise a family, and you’re looking to find a wife. Well, a Spinsters’ Club party is certainly the right place to begin, Mr. MacLaren.”
He drew back, and his intent gaze was now shuttered. “The last thing I’m looking for is a wife, Miss Harkey.”
* * *
He saw the exact moment when she misinterpreted what he’d said and came to a scandalous conclusion. Her indignation at the suggestion sparked a temper as hot as her hair was red.
Maude Harkey rose to her feet, some five feet eight inches of spitting-mad female. “Mr. MacLaren, I’m afraid you’ve formed the wrong idea about our little group. The Spinsters’ Club was founded by ladies seeking marriage, not a...a dishonorable alliance! If that’s what you came here looking for, I suggest you seek it down at the saloon—one of the girls who serves whiskey might be able to accommodate you,” she said, her voice as icy as her temper was blazing.
He rose, too. “Miss Harkey, simmer down. I wasn’t suggesting anything remotely like what you’re thinking. My intentions are entirely honorable. I’m simply not looking for a wife—romantic claptrap has never appealed to me, you see—”
“‘Romantic claptrap?’” she echoed, a dangerous chill remaining in her voice. “Is that what you call our efforts to make matches here?”
He shrugged. “Courtship and that other nonsense is all very well if that’s all a man or a woman is looking for,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “But it seems to me most of these single young women would be much better advised to be seeking employment, not matrimony. And it’s employment that I have come to offer—with nothing scandalous or unseemly to it at all. What I’m looking for is a companion—for my mother, that is.”
She sank back to her seat, her face fiery red. The flush rather became her, he noted—though he’d thought she looked even more striking moments before, with that fierce fire burning in her eyes. “I...I see. I beg your pardon, Mr. MacLaren. Your mother is in need of a companion?” she asked, her voice now scarcely stronger than a whisper.
He sat down again, too, and felt a moment of compassion for her embarrassment. “Yes, she’s got rheumatism and a host of other ailments that keep her from moving around easily, and it’s made her a mite...crotchety, shall we say?” Not that her medical condition was solely to blame for her behavior. Ill humor was as much a part of his mother as her piercing eyes and the strident voice that never failed to find fault and clamor it to the skies. “The ranch keeps me busy from can-see to can’t-see, and I thought if she had another female to keep her company, it might make it easier for her.”
And a lot easier for me. He’d taken the brunt of his mother’s ill temper for far too long, and each time he hired a companion for her and the unlucky female quit after being subjected to Coira MacLaren’s tirades, her irritability toward her son grew worse.
“So you wish to hire a companion for her,” Maude Harkey said carefully.
“That’s about the size of it,” he agreed with a nod. “I’d pay the lady well, of course, and she’d have a room of her own.”
“I’m afraid it’s out of the question, Mr. MacLaren,” Miss Harkey told him, her tone warming from icy to crisp. “Pardon my plain speaking, if you would, but I don’t believe there’s a single one of my friends in the Spinsters’ Club who would be willing to risk her reputation living out on a ranch with no one but an invalid to chaperone her.”
“She wouldn’t be alone,” he informed her. “Senora Morales is my housekeeper and cook. She lives in the ranch house and is always present. Are you quite certain no one would consider it? What about you, Miss Harkey? You look like a capable female. Do you have any encumbrances that would prevent you from taking the job?” He found he rather relished the idea of his mother’s temper meeting its match in Maude Harkey’s. Perhaps each flame would douse the other. Sen ora Morales would stop threatening to quit on a daily basis, and he’d have a peaceful household for a change.
“No, thank you,” Maude Harkey said, getting to her feet again. “Feel free to speak to Jane Jeffries about it, but be aware she has two lively boys who would not do well, I think, in a house with an invalid. You might ask Louisa Wheeler, but she is devoted to her job as schoolmarm, or Daisy Henderson—but she’s got a son, too, and what the hotel would do without her as cook, I have no idea. There are other newer young ladies in the Spinsters’ Club with fewer ties to bind them to Simpson Creek, but I’ll leave it to you to discover who they are.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the clumps of ladies and male guests clustered around the punch table and chatting in pairs at various points around the spacious lawn in front of Gilmore House.
“Failing that, you might consider putting an advertisement in the Simpson Creek Intelligencer or in the Lampasas newspaper. I’m afraid I must go now and fulfill my duties as hostess by mingling with the other guests. I wish you all the best in your search, but I’m afraid I can be of no further help to you. Good day to you, Mr. MacLaren,” she said, and sailed off in the direction of the veranda.
Regretfully, he watched her go, noting absently how gracefully she moved, even while perfectly conveying her wrathful state. There had been a moment there when, after realizing how much she had misunderstood his meaning, he’d thought he had a chance of getting her to consider the matter, if only to make up for thinking he’d been up to no good.
He stared around him at the other females of her so-called Spinsters’ Club who seemed to be unattached, but none of them appealed to him. Every one of them looked too young, too giggly or too meek of manner to survive his mother’s temper. He wasn’t sure which one Jane Jeffries was, but the very last thing Coira MacLaren would stand for was the presence of two noisy, ill-mannered boys in her home, though enough room to accommodate everyone in the vast, mostly empty ranch house certainly wasn’t a problem.
No, he wanted Maude Harkey for the position, he realized, and suddenly no one else would do. He didn’t want to examine his reasons too closely. The woman didn’t have to suit him, just his mother, after all. He wasn’t seeking a bride, as he had told her. Romance held no interest for him—not anymore. Whatever companion he hired would see as little of him as possible. One MacLaren would be more than enough for her to have to deal with.
Of course, if he was truly seeking someone only to suit his mother, then one of the meeker, more pliable young ladies might please her just fine. She’d have someone new to chew on, which she might enjoy for a time—until she’d worn the poor girl out entirely.
But he would hire Maude Harkey or no one. At least, no one here.
After taking a last look around, he retraced his steps past the wrought-iron gates of Gilmore House, found his horse where he’d left him tied at the saloon and headed for Five Mile Hill Ranch.
Copyright © 2015 by Laurie A. Kingery
ISBN-13: 9781460378885
Would-Be Wilderness Wife
Copyright © 2015 by Regina Lundgren
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