Luke stroked the back of her hand and noticed how soft her skin was. “I love you, Shannon. You need to wake up so the children can tell you what they have been doing.” Still no response. Luke felt defeated, but he wouldn’t give up. He was going to will her to open her eyes.
Several hours went by as Luke talked to Shannon, telling her about the ranch and about how empty his life would be without her. His uneaten food lay on a plate on the bed stand but he didn’t care. His wife was the most important thing.
He heard someone sniff. He turned and saw Toby and Molly standing in the doorway already dressed for bed. Luke waved them into the room. “Are you two going to bed?”
Molly nodded and Toby said, “I want to tell Miss Shannon goodnight.”
Luke moved away from the bed. “I think she’d like that.”
Toby scrambled up on the bed and placed his small hand on Shannon’s face. “Miss Shannon, I want you to wake up. I miss you. I bet I can even beat you at hopscotch, but it isn’t much fun without you.” He waited for a minute . . . when there wasn’t a response, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Luke reached over and scooped Toby up in his arms, hugging the child to him and wishing he could ease Toby’s pain. Luke was feeling the same way inside.
Molly leaned over the bed and placed a kiss on Shannon’s cheek. “I have learned my figures like you wanted me to, and I read my book. I love you, Miss Shannon. Please don’t leave us.” Molly was turning to leave when she heard a groan and turned back. Shannon’s eyes were open.
Molly laughed between her tears and grabbed Shannon’s hand. “Pa, she’s awake!”
Shannon gazed at Molly’s tear-streaked face. Her eyes felt like sand was in them, but she could still see the child and she didn’t want Molly to cry. “I love ye, too, Molly,” Shannon whispered then added, “What’s 2 plus 2?”
Molly giggled. “4.”
Toby wiggled out of his father’s arms, then ran back to the bed and scooted up beside Shannon. “Toby,” Shannon said is a soft voice. “I love ye too. Now go tae bed, and I’ll see ye in the mornin’. I promise I’ll be here when ye awake.”
Shannon closed her eyes. The effort to keep them open was too much, but her heart was happy. She felt as though she was coming out of a black hole. How long had she been in bed? She seemed to hurt all over. A cool damp cloth touched her head and helped eased the pain. Slowly she opened her eyes again.
She saw Luke bent over her with tears on his cheeks. “Huv I died?”
“No, sweetheart. You’re very much alive. I’m glad to see your eyes open at long last.”
“Water,” she managed to squeak. Her throat was so dry that it was hard to talk.
Luke held her up so she could sip some water, and then he gently let her back down. She was glad as her head pounded in a sitting position.
“Have I been asleep?”
“Not exactly asleep but you have been unconscious for four days.”
“R—Really?” Shannon could tell she was getting tired again. “That’s why my head hurts.”
“You still have a fever. However, you’re not as hot as before so you are getting better, even if you don’t feel that way at the moment.”
“I told ye that I wouldn’t die on ye,” Shannon said and tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure how well that worked.
Luke smiled. “Yes, you did.”
“I heard everyone but ye tell me they missed me.”
“That is because you were out cold, sweetheart, when I told you I missed you, along with a lot of other things.”
“Such as?”
“That life wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Oh,” she said in a disappointed soft voice. “In that case, I’ll go back tae sleep.” She started to close her eyelids.
“And I love you very much,” Luke added quickly.
She opened her eyelids once more and smiled at Luke with what she hoped was love in her eyes. “Are ye saying, Luke Griffin, that yer my cowboy?”
“Now and forever,” he said, and then he leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips.
“’Tis aboot time. Ye look dead on yer feet. I bet I’d get well a lot faster if ye were in bed holding me.”
Luke couldn’t get undressed fast enough. “Your request is my command.”
Once Luke was snuggled next to her, Shannon’s last thought was that, at long last, she’d found the family she’d always wanted.
And at long last, she had her cowboy now and forever.
Bonus from Southern Seduction
SOUTHERN SEDUCTION
Chapter Two
Her journey had finally reached its end.
Brooke Hammond’s spirits rose as she and Mr. Jeffries neared New Orleans. Though she’d only caught glimpses of the city as they traveled via the main thoroughfares and straight out of town, she liked what she saw and looked forward to returning to town once she’d settled on the plantation.
Brooke settled back to enjoy the remainder of the ride. It had been a long trip, and she had grown weary of traveling and living out of a trunk, but she tried not to complain. It wouldn’t be much longer now.
The country was lovely with the lush trees and fields that Mr. Jeffries had described as sugarcane and cotton.
Brooke pressed her dainty white handkerchief to her forehead. She noticed a vast difference between the air in New Orleans and New York. There was always a hint of moisture in the air here. That, in combination with the extreme heat, made her skin feel clammy.
Finally the carriage began to slow, and through the carriage window Brooke caught her first glimpse of a sign announcing they were about to enter Moss Grove Plantation. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t seem to utter a single word as a hundred thoughts rush into her head all at once.
At last she’d have her very own home, a home that was hers permanently, not for just a little while. Most important, she would be the mistress. She’d never have to depend on anyone else’s decisions ever again. A home meant much more to Brooke than money. It was something that she had never had. The years growing up in a boarding school were the closest thing to home she could imagine.
All her dreams were about to come true.
The mansion wasn’t yet visible when the carriage swung between the octagonal, brick pigeonniers positioned on either side of the drive, so seeing her new home was once again delayed. However, the red dirt driveway was smooth and unrutted, demonstrating that a great deal of care had gone into the preparation of the plantation. She could just imagine what the house must look like.
So far, Brooke had to admit that she liked what she’d seen of America compared to England’s damp cool days.
Today the sky was beautiful and clear, though the heat would take some getting used to with her thick British blood. Perhaps with fall approaching, the days would be very pleasant. “The trees here are a bit unusual and very wide, don’t you think?” Brooke asked Mr. Jeffries who sat across from her.
He slid back the leather flap on the window. “I believe they are called live oaks. They grow very large and wide,” he explained. “And I see a few pecan trees mixed in the group.”
Huge live oaks, of which Brooke had already counted twenty, lined the long drive on either side. As the carriage traveled down the lane, the limbs were laced overhead like fingers, dripping with a queer, graybeard like growth that Brooke had never seen before.
She pointed out the window. “What is the greenish-gray substance?”
Jeffries again peered out the window, and this time smiled. “It is Spanish Moss. Quite common in this part of the country, I believe.” He leaned back in his seat. “The moss actually lives on the tree limbs and will spread from tree to tree. It resembles a graybeard and can absorb water ten times its weight. Quite lovely, I think.”
“Yes, it is. Perhaps it’s where the name of the plantation came from,” Brooke murmured. The moss was indeed beautiful, yet it also gave her an eerie fee
ling. She hoped it wasn’t a warning sign that something sinister lurked ahead. A slight chill shuddered through her as she shook the qualms from her mind. Surely the staff would welcome a new mistress.
When she thought she could bear the suspense of waiting no longer, a magnificent plantation house came into view. A two-story, white house with one-story wing pavilions on each side sat gracefully at the end of the sweeping circular carriageway, and it was hers . . . all hers.
Ten white columns stood at attention across the front like soldiers, adding to the feeling of grandeur. There was a full second-floor balcony, making for a lovely veranda supported by the columns and bordered with wrought iron. Two curved staircases in the shapes of half moons led up to the main floor. Brooke could only gape, awestruck at the opulence she saw before her.
“I see you’re impressed,” Mr. Jeffries commented quietly.
“This is not like anything I’ve ever seen before,” Brooke whispered, afraid that someone would pinch her and wake her up from this wonderful dream. How could she be so lucky? “I’m surprised that Jackson stayed in England when he had such a magnificent home and this beautiful sunny weather.”
“I believe he had other ideas for Moss Grove.”
The carriage pulled to a stop before the wide steps at the front of the house. The driver swung down, opened the door and let down the step for them.
Brooke gathered her skirts so she didn’t trip, then accepted the driver’s hand. She had just stepped down from the carriage when a man came galloping up on a magnificent white stallion, clouds of dust swirled around the horse’s hooves. For a moment, Brooke recalled her girlhood dream of being swept away by a handsome prince on a white horse. Of course, the silly child’s dream had faded as she’d grown, and she hadn’t thought about her prince in a long time.
Until now.
The man riding toward her made an awesome picture as he sat tall in the saddle. He reined in his horse a few feet away from them, but said nothing, allowing Brooke another moment to look at him. He was dressed in riding clothes, but he wore no jacket as most gentlemen did, just a white billowing shirt and black riding breeches. His blue eyes flashed, then narrowed as he leaned forward in the saddle and looked down as if they were insects to be trod upon.
The sun played on his sun-streaked hair, wind-tossed and rather long, Brooke noticed as he examined them. In spite of his superior attitude, his bronzed skin gave him a rakish air that Brooke found quite appealing.
She really shouldn’t be ogling him, but she couldn’t help herself. He was truly breathtaking.
Back in England, the gentlemen she had known had always been pasty and white dandies, most of whom had been old enough to be her father.
But not this one.
He was handsome, recklessly so, and he simply took her breath away. She wondered who he was.
The overseer, perhaps? Entertainment?
She could only hope.
“Jeffries,” the man muttered curtly, finally acknowledging them. He dismounted and tossed the reins to a young stable boy who had come trotting up while Brooke had been looking at the man. “I had word that you were coming, but I wasn’t expecting your wife.”
Brooke noted that the stranger had a deep, commanding voice, but she almost laughed out loud at the notion that he thought she was Mr. Jeffries’s wife.
“Travis,” Jeffries said as he extended his hand. “It has been a long time since I last saw you. You look well.”
“As do you,” Travis commented, then glanced at Brooke. “Will you introduce me to your lovely companion?”
“Certainly. But she isn’t my wife.” Mr. Jeffries motioned toward Brooke. “May I introduce you to Brooke Hammond.”
Travis lifted her hand to his lips then kissed the back ever so lightly, just enough to make chills sweep over and through Brooke’s body. For some odd reason her pulse raced while he murmured, “My pleasure, Miss Hammond.” He turned back to Jeffries. “I presume then, that she is your fiancée?”
“Certainly not,” Jeffries answered. “She is a friend of your father’s.”
Travis’s gaze was riveted on her, then moving over her body slowly. He stopped abruptly as he glanced back to the solicitor. Travis’s brows drew together. “My father? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Brooke had a hard time tearing her eyes from Travis’s compelling gaze, but she, too, turned and looked at Mr. Jeffries. “His father?” Brooke repeated. “Pray tell, who is his father?”
Jeffries’ face turned a bit red before he answered, “May I present Travis Montgomery, Jackson’s son.”
Brooke couldn’t hide her startled look as she said, “Jackson never said anything to me about a son.” What she didn’t add was ...and if he had a son why did he leave the plantation to me?
“Madam, that does not surprise me one bit,” Travis snapped, his eyes turning cold. Evidently, Travis Montgomery wasn’t any happier than she was about this turn of events because the interest she’d noted only a moment ago had disappeared as his next words were directed to Mr. Jeffries. “What is she doing here?”
Brooke hated to tell him, but he really wasn’t going to like the answer.
The next hour passed slowly as Jeffries tried to calm Brooke and Travis down to where they were not shouting at each other. Neither had taken the news well at all.
It seemed that Brooke’s plantation had come with a few conditions attached to it, and one of those conditions was now glaring at her across the library table. She’d been rushed inside so quickly that she hadn’t had a chance to observe the interior of the house. They had been ushered straight into the library which acted as Travis’s study. It was dark just like the owner.
Since Travis had turned to whisper something to Mr. Jeffries, Brooke took the moment of silence to glanced around the room, trying to get a feel for her adversary. The room was well appointed and very spacious. One wall held nothing but books. Evidently, Travis liked to read or at least he wanted to give the impression that he did. A marble fireplace was on another wall, and above the mantel hung a large oil painting of a stern-looking gentleman Brooke didn’t recognize.
The only bright spot in the room was the French doors located behind his desk.
Her gaze shifted back to her immediate problem, Travis Montgomery, as Mr. Jeffries tried to explain to Travis that Brooke had inherited half of Moss Grove, and they would be able to work everything out if he’d just listen.
“Over my dead body!” Travis shouted at Jeffries. Travis’s eyes were cold, his expression a mask of stone as his gaze settled on her face.
“That can be arranged!” Brooke shot back at the arrogant cad she was beginning to wish she’d never laid eyes on. Who did he think he was, shouting at her? And why hadn’t Jackson ever mentioned that he had a son? To think that she’d found him handsome, reminiscent of her prince -- this man might be a devil, instead. His profile was strong and rigid and she had a strong feeling that he never gave an inch in any argument.
“Get out of my house,” Travis said through clenched teeth, his voice strained as if he were barely controlling his temper.
Brooke sensed there was more to Travis’s rage than just her sudden appearance, but she wasn’t going to cower. Instead, she lifted her chin. “Your house?” she challenged. This man...this... this adversary didn’t know her very well -- that was stupid, he didn’t know her at all -- but if he thought his shouting was going to get her to leave, he needed to rethink his strategy. Brooke wasn’t about to be intimidated by him or any man for that matter.
“Perhaps,” she said in her perfect British accent, “you were not listening. The plantation belongs to both of us, so you had better get used to reality,” she informed him, feeling just a little bit pleased that Mr. Montgomery didn’t have an immediate retort for her. He didn’t appear to be a man who liked to lose at anything.
Well, neither did she.
Instead, he glared at her for a long moment before turning his gaze back to Mr. Jeffries, who sat, look
ing completely exasperated, at the end of the table, his hands folded over the paperwork in front of him.
“I knew my father hated me . . .” Travis paused, a strange look flashing across his face. “Apparently, I didn’t know how much,” he said more or less to himself as he lowered his tall, incredibly formed body back into his chair.
The solicitor cleared his throat, before saying, “If you are both finished with your shouting match, I shall continue with the reading of Jackson’s will.” Jeffries peered over his spectacles at both of them and waited patiently for them to acquiesce.
Finally, they each gave a quick nod.
Travis shoved away from the table. “Before you continue,” he said, “I need a drink. Do you care for anything?” His question was directed toward Jeffries.
The solicitor shrugged and nodded, then turned back to his papers.
Travis started for the liquor cabinet located next to the wall when Brooke spoke, “It’s quite apparent that your father never taught you any manners either.”
Travis stopped. Slowly, he turned around, his gaze leveling on her, anger in his eyes. “My father didn’t bother to teach me anything at all,” he retorted bitterly. He waited a moment, his brow raised a fraction, almost daring her to comment. “Would you care for something, Miss Hammond?”
Brooke smiled, only because she knew it would irritate him further, then she said politely, “Yes, thank you very much. I would like sherry, please.” She saw the fire flash in his blue eyes just before he turned away, and she wondered what it would be like to smother that fire out and, perhaps, tame the beast.
Travis Montgomery wasn’t something she’d planned on when she’d embarked on this adventure. Not only his very existence, but the way he made her feel. He fired her blood in more ways than one. However, if he thought he was going to intimidate her, then he had better think again.
Western Seduction (The Seduction Series Book 2) Page 19
