“Of course she resembles you,” she’d whispered. “She’s your blood kin, Nicholas. She wears the look of you.” A look that gave him perfect male features, a face guaranteed to cause women’s hearts to flutter at first sight of that handsome profile.
Lin sighed, remembering. Her hand had risen to touch his cheek, and he’d turned his mouth to press a kiss against her palm. Then had enclosed her in his embrace.
She shivered at the memory, recalling the scent of clean sheets and the aroma of desire that surrounded Nicholas when his need for her drew her into that world they’d begun to create.
Inhaling deeply, she stood in the doorway, drawing the smell of fresh air into her lungs, that same crisp and clean scent that permeated the laundry she hung to dry on the clothesline in the yard. There was a certain amount of pride to be gained by the knowledge of her own ability to wash the garments they wore, she decided, and even the struggle she undertook as she wrestled with the wind as she hung to dry the bedding they used.
The air was fresh in the mornings, the sun hot, warming her bones as she stepped through the kitchen doorway to stand on the edge of the porch. Her gaze moved to where her washing blew in the wind, and she felt the mantle of marriage fall on her shoulders as she surveyed the work of her hands.
It fit her well, she’d decided. She was more than a nanny, had more value than a young woman trained simply to teach and care for a child. Being a wife encompassed all of that and yet held promise of a satisfaction she’d only begun to appreciate.
A sense of belonging swept through her as she watched Nicholas now, recognized the pride and pleasure in his smile as he brought Amanda to the back of the house and bent to deposit her on the ground in front of the porch.
“Lin.” He spoke her name, and she was aware of underlying warmth in the single syllable, as he smiled. “Amanda’s had her ride, and I’m off for the back of the pasture. The fence needs bolstering.” His gaze held her immobile, touching her with heated knowledge, and warmth swept through the length of her body. Then he lifted his reins and shot a look of promise over Amanda’s head. “I won’t be too long.”
“I’m going to play with my kitten, Linnie,” the child said, bending to peer beneath the porch to where her pet had claimed a dark corner as her own. A tattered piece of saddle blanket, cadged from the tack room in the barn, provided a nest, and, true to her nature, the kitten curled in the center of her bed, content to sleep away the major portion of the day. Amanda leaned in to lift the small creature and brought her to nestle against her chest. With a yawn and a curving of her back, the small, black kitty accepted the attention and curled obligingly into place.
“Don’t go far from the house.” Lin reluctantly turned her gaze from Nicholas to offer the soft warning. “I need to be able to see you from the kitchen.”
Amanda nodded and shot her uncle’s retreating back a long look of patience. “I know. Uncle Nicholas already told me the rules.” Her arms held the kitten close, and she climbed the four steps, turning at the top to settle on the edge of the porch. “Can we do our lessons out here, Linnie? It’s more fun than at the table.”
Lin nodded agreeably. Reading could be done anywhere, and going back indoors when the alternative was sitting in the sunshine was hardly an option. “I’ll get your book, as soon as I finish putting the soup to cook.”
“Nicholas?” She called his name and he brought his horse to a halt, turning to look back at her. “Don’t be long. We’ll eat in a couple of hours. I’m making soup. I’m about ready to add the vegetables and put the kettle on the back of the stove to simmer.”
He acknowledged her message with an uplifted hand and urged his horse into a trot, disappearing behind the barn in moments.
Lin opened the door with a last look at Amanda and entered the cool haven that was her kitchen. It was strange, she thought, how carrots and potatoes took on a different aspect when you were the one washing and paring. She’d never known the attraction of putting food together before, had always watched from the sidelines as another prepared the meals in whatever place she lived.
Now, having ventured beneath the house, into that dark, musty place where some other woman had stored the harvest from her garden, she appreciated each aspect of putting together a meal, from the preparing of the food to the final serving of it.
The spiders below ground level were off-putting, and the sound of scampering mice sent a chill down her spine each time she invaded their territory, intent on searching out the withering carrots and potatoes for cooking. Yet there was that silent presence of the woman who had lived here before, who had left that part of herself behind, and Lin found herself wondering at the passage of lives through the doors of this house.
The hours and days spent in returning this house to a portion of its former beauty brought a sense of pride to Lin’s soul. At the cost of blisters and aching muscles, she’d learned the price to be paid for clean floors and sparkling widows. The meals came from her hands, the comfort of clean bedding and clothing from her long hours of work.
Sad irons found in the pantry had been cleaned and set atop the cook stove to heat, in readiness for the ironing to be done. The maids in Irene’s mansion had been adept at the chore, and it apparently was a skill not easily gained. But Lin’s efforts had shown improvement after the first brown, iron-shaped impression appeared on the back of Nicholas’ second-best shirt. He’d worn it without a murmur, only casting her a grin as he held it up to view the scorched area.
Thankfully, the furniture took little care, there being a dearth of usable objects in the parlor. Only a sofa remained from the previous occupants, a lumpy, ancient relic of better days. But the windows were clean, the curtains free of dust, and she’d swept the faded carpet vigorously.
Lin looked around the kitchen, admiring the mason jar of wildflowers that were Amanda’s contribution to the decor. As if she’d never lived in luxury, the little girl found joy in small comforts. Taking on the task of setting the table, drying silverware, what scant supply there was, and toting and carrying in Lin’s wake, she’d been ever cheerful. The sun’s rays brought new color to her cheeks, the fresh air and the energy dispensed by chasing her kitten and romping beneath the trees gave her sound slumber each night.
“She’s fit in here as if she were born in this place,” Lin murmured, cutting up carrots into the simmering broth. The events of their kidnaping seemed forgotten, if the little girl’s frame of mind was any indication. Lin’s own memory was not so easily erased. She’d woken from a sound sleep only last night to find Nicholas’s hands on her, his voice soothing as he sought to pierce the nightmare she struggled to escape. His arms provided comfort and then a greater degree of pleasure as she turned to him and murmured her thanks.
Being married was the best part of this venture, she decided smugly, settling the lid of the soup kettle in place. Nicholas admired her, complimented her every accomplishment as if he knew that her background had not prepared her for this place. Offering her the scrub board on their second day, he’d grinned apologetically.
“Katie has life easier than you, I fear,” he’d said. “She only has to turn a crank to do the laundry.”
“I don’t mind.” Lin recalled her words of assurance with a wry smile. In truth, she hadn’t minded, had almost enjoyed the scrubbing and wringing out, had been invigorated by the wind that attempted to snatch the sheets from her grasp and then blew them like the sails of a ship as they dried.
“Mm…smells good.” Nicholas’s faint praise was enough, she’d decided, remembering the fresh scent of clean air their bedding had captured. “Almost as good as you,” he’d murmured, reaching for her with arms that held her close, hands that cherished her feminine flesh. His lips caressed her skin, skimmed the surface with a teasing touch she could not resist.
“I’m a brazen hussy,” she whispered, recalling the new-found joy of cuddling, the sweet taste of pleasure found in another’s presence. “But he doesn’t seem to mind.” A smile curv
ed her lips as she sought and found Amanda’s book. It slid into her pocket as she returned to the stove, her fingers holding a dish towel as she lifted the pot lid to peer into the steaming broth. Steadfastly, she put Nicholas from her mind as she returned to the child who waited on the porch.
Supper that evening was cut short by a call from the yard. Riding a plodding horse, a man made his way to the hitching rail and slid from his mount. Behind him, at the end of a rope was a brown-and-white cow, her big, mournful eyes winning Lin’s heart at first sight.
“I asked the man at the general store to locate us a cow, Lin. I’d say he didn’t let any grass grow under his feet. Looks like we’re about to buy our milk supply.” Nicholas rose from the table and stepped out onto the porch, greeting the visitor warmly.
Within minutes, he’d drawn money from his pocket and taken possession of the cow, shaking hands with the gentleman and exchanging a few pleasantries. Lin and Amanda watched from the porch for a while, then went back in the house to clear the table and put Nicholas’s plate in the warming oven. It looked like he’d be busy for a while, settling their new purchase into the barn.
“She’s pretty,” Amanda decided. “I like cows.”
“You’ll need to stay back from her till we find out if she’s friendly,” Lin told her firmly. “I don’t know much about their moods.”
“Well, her eyes look real pretty,” Amanda said. “I think she’s nice.”
Lin nodded, glancing out the window as the neighboring farmer untied his horse and settled his long frame atop the creature. “Let’s go out and see what Nicholas has to say,” she said, removing her apron and hanging it on a nail by the door.
They watched as their first visitor departed, his feet hanging on either side of the plow horse he rode, his hat perched squarely atop his head. The cow he’d left behind lifted her head and uttered a long, low sound that seemed to offer her former owner a sad farewell. Then, bending her head to the swatch of greenery before her, she set about the process of turning grass into milk, chewing contentedly as Nicholas strode toward her.
“Come on, Bossie,” he said coaxingly. “You’ll do better for now in your stall. We’ll settle for hay tonight, and tomorrow you can be turned loose in the pasture.”
“Bossie?” Lin repeated curiously. “What a strange name for a cow.”
“What would you call her?” he asked, grasping the lead rope the animal had come equipped with. “Something more elegant, I suppose.”
“I’ve never named a cow,” Lin admitted. “But if she’s going to supply us with some of the essentials of living, we’d ought to come up with something more dignified than Bossie, I’d think.” She tilted her head to one side. “How about Precious?”
She thought for a moment Nicholas would choke. He coughed, then grinned widely. “Maybe Belle would work,” he offered. “I remember a cow with that name when I was a boy.”
Lin was willing to compromise. “Belle sounds fine,” she agreed. “Do you know how to milk her?”
Nicholas lifted an eyebrow. “Of course I can milk her. As I understand it, the process is quite simple. Her equipment is standard, I would think, and we have a new bucket in the pantry.”
Lin shrugged. “Well, I’m glad you have that chore. I wouldn’t have the first idea how to go about it.” Relieved at his nonchalance, she watched as the docile cow followed her new owner into the barn.
It was almost dark when Nicholas saw fit to admit defeat, announcing he apparently lacked the basic knowledge necessary to coax the milk from the cow’s udder. “It seems a simple enough process,” he said, obviously embarrassed by his frustration. “Would you like to give it a shot?”
The sound of Belle’s discomfort reached the porch as Lin considered the idea. “She’s not happy, is she?”
Nicholas shook his head. “And she’s impatient with my attempts.”
“I’ll try,” Lin said, stepping to his side, and then looked up in surprise as the gelding in the corral issued a shrill challenge. “What’s wrong?” she asked, peering past Nicholas to see the horse reaching his head over the fence.
“Company, I suspect,” Nicholas answered shortly.
From the twilight beyond the barn, a pale horse approached, a woman astride his bare back, and the gelding again snorted and whinnied. The woman lifted a hand in greeting and nudged her mount into a quick canter as she rode past the corral fence and across the yard.
Nicholas relaxed visibly and stepped forward. “We weren’t expecting visitors,” he said. Tilting his hat back a bit, he smiled a welcome. “Are you a neighbor?”
“You could call me that,” the woman answered. She was graceful, her dismount accomplished with barely a whisper of fabric as she slid to the ground and dropped her horse’s reins. Fair hair shone like a halo around her head, and her skin gleamed as if lit from within in the faint light shed from the kitchen windows.
“I was riding back home from the woods north of here when I heard your cow protesting.” She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of a forested area beyond the pasture as she spoke and then looked directly at Lin. “I thought she might be tangled in the fencing. Now,” she said with a smile that invited a response, “from the sounds of it, I’ve decided she just needs to be milked.”
“I fear you’re right,” Lin said, and then freely admitted her own inadequacy. “I haven’t the faintest idea how to go about the job, and Nicholas has just admitted defeat.” She tilted her head and considered the visitor. “I don’t suppose…”
“You’re in luck.” The woman held out a hand. “I’m Faith Hudson, and I learned how to coax milk from a cow a couple of years ago.”
“I could use a lesson,” Lin said thankfully. She looked up at Nicholas. “You don’t mind if I take over this chore, do you?”
He handed her the shiny bucket with a bow. “You have my permission, sweetheart. I’ll just stand by and watch.”
The next hour was a revelation to Lin. She found herself admiring the slim creature who had come out of the twilight to their rescue. There was a sense of kindred spirits in the easy laughter they shared, as the self-effacing woman answered her questions and laughed gently at her tentative efforts to persuade the cow into releasing her burden. The pail was gradually filled past the halfway point, the milk foaming as Lin successfully gained the knack of coaxing Belle into compliance.
“Do you have a separator?” Faith asked, looking from the barn door toward the house. She searched the yard a moment, and Lin met her returning gaze with a shrug of defeat.
“I don’t even know what a separator is,” she admitted. “What gets separated?”
“The milk from the cream,” Faith said. “But you can let it rise to the top and just ladle it off almost as easily.”
“Can’t we just drink it as it is?” Lin feared she sounded almost as ignorant as she felt.
“Certainly. But if you want to make butter, you’ll have to use just the cream.”
“Butter.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead. The golden round brought from Katie’s kitchen was almost gone, and replacing it had not been an issue. But by tomorrow it would be.
“There’s probably a churn somewhere around here,” Faith said. “The folks who lived here left a lot of their belongings behind when they sold the place. I’ll warrant they didn’t tote their churn on board the train when they headed for the city.”
“Maybe it’s in the cellar,” Lin suggested. “I’ve been down there, but I didn’t notice it.” Her pause was long and then she put forth a new query. “What would it look like?” That she’d never been involved with the making of butter was something she hated to admit. This stranger seemed to be well equipped to survive on a farm, and Lin was definitely a woman born and raised in town.
Faith laughed aloud and lifted the bucket of milk. “Let’s take this in the house and set it aside while we search out the churn,” she said cheerfully. “I hope your family has had their evening meal already. This may take a while.”
; “She was a lifesaver, wasn’t she?” Lin stripped from her stockings and shook them out, then turned to where Nicholas waited in the bed. Invigorated by the events of the evening, she grinned widely. “I didn’t know there was so much involved in keeping a house.” As she spoke she picked up his soiled clothing from the chair and deposited it in the basket, then added her own.
“You’ve taken to it well,” he conceded. “A stranger would never know how pampered you’ve been all your life.” And then he laughed aloud as she spun and darted toward him, pouncing on him in mock anger.
“What a way to talk to the woman who’s been gathering blisters all week,” she said between gasps of laughter. His fingers were busy, poking and tickling as he pulled her across the mattress. Beneath her nightgown she was naked, available and tempting, he decided, and he wasn’t about to lose any opportunity to touch the softness she concealed beneath yards of pale cotton fabric.
“Is this all you think about?” she asked him, peering up through waves of disheveled hair. She blew distractedly at a strand that covered her mouth and he reached to tuck it behind her ear, smoothing the dark, russet locks from her face.
“Not all,” he said with a husky tone invading his words. “Just mostly.”
“Did you ever consider that I might be tired after learning how to milk a cow and hunting through crates and stacks of leftovers for a butter churn?”
He bent to bless her mouth with a warm caress. “Can you figure out how to use it?”
“Faith will be back in the morning to help me,” she admitted. “I think she was trying hard not to laugh at my questions.”
“I wonder where she lives,” he mused, his eyes narrowing as he considered the woman who had dropped by in such a casual manner. “I haven’t seen another farmhouse down the road toward town that wasn’t occupied by a family.”
Lin shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll ask her tomorrow. We’re going to make butter, and she said she’d bring me some fresh vegetables from her garden. She has peas and green beans ready to eat. I won’t turn them down, even if we have a good supply in glass jars in the cellar.”
Tempting a Texan Page 19
