“Where the good Lord what? Now wait just a minute—”
She jabbed a finger at his nose this time. “So she can’t cook as good as a woman who’s been doing it for thirty years or more? She tried her best, didn’t she? And maybe she did singe a few underdrawers, but that don’t mean you boys didn’t have clean clothes when you needed ’em, along with a smile and a cheery word when you come home tired and hungry.”
“I never said—”
“That’s just it, you fool cowboy. You never said nothing she needed to hear, like how much you appreciated her tryin’ so hard. Or how nice it was that she was there when you come home, or how pretty she looked, or how sweet it was at night to pull her close.” She paused to haul in a breath. “Instead, you washed your hands of her the minute you didn’t need her any more. Even in the bedroom, behind closed doors, you worthless toad.”
Recalling the nights after his aunt’s arrival when he’d felt too self-conscious to make proper love to his wife, Clint felt heat sear his cheeks. “What occurs between a man and his wife behind closed doors is no concern of yours,” he muttered, staring at the amber liquid in the bottom of his glass.
“Pathetically little happened for you to keep secret, from what I heard! Crinkling corn husks, my hiney.”
Clint stared at her in amazement. “Is that why she left? Because I was worried about makin’ noise and wasn’t very—well, you know?”
“That and other things. Like maybe because you never told her you loved her. Don’t deny it. If you had, she never would of left, not in a million years.”
Clint bristled at that. “I did so! Plain as can be! I told her several times.”
“Not according to Rachel. She says you told her you thought maybe you did.”
Clint had no answer for that. Thinking back on it, he recalled now that he had skirted the issue, telling Rachel he thought he loved her, but never saying he knew it for certain. “That still didn’t give her any call to leave,” he said under his breath.
Dora Faye, who glared at him nearly nose to nose, caught the words. “Oh, really? And what would have convinced her to stay, you stubborn mule? You married her for her talents as a house keeper. As I understand it, you never made any bones about it, not from the very first, and Rachel feels like she failed you at every turn.” When Clint tried to protest, she waved him to silence. “Her words, not mine. After good old Aunt Hester showed up, she didn’t feel needed anymore. In fact, she felt like she’d done such a miserable job that you were all hoping she’d leave.”
“That is not so.”
A pulse throbbed in Dora Faye’s temple. “She thinks you wish you’d never married her in the first place.”
“That’s silly.”
“Is it? I don’t think so. And after you think about it, I don’t think you will, either.” She fixed him with those fiery green eyes of hers for a long moment. “She’s leavin’ on Monday, you know. Goin’ back east to stay with some relatives and go to some kind of school. And why wouldn’t she? Now that you’ve tossed her back, she has no hope for making a life here in Shady Corners.”
Twelve
The church seemed to be unusually crowded for early services. Rachel stood just outside the doors with her father and sister, held back by the press of people trying to move en masse into the church. Molly kept standing on tiptoe, craning her neck to see. “I wonder what’s happening?” she asked for at least the dozenth time.
“I have no idea,” Rachel replied.
“Well, I’m going to find out!” her father vowed.
He began shoving his way through the crowd, cutting a path for Rachel and Molly in his wake. They fell in after him like farmers behind a plow. Just inside the church doors, Rachel realized the interior of the building seemed oddly quiet. Once people got inside, they usually visited right up until the preacher stepped to his pulpit. She strained to see over the shoulders of men, wondering why the crowd seemed to have gathered at the back of the church.
When at last her father had worked his way through the throng, Rachel felt sure she would discover what was holding everyone back from finding their seats. But at first glance around the church, she saw nothing unusual.
“Hells bells, there she is. Took you long enough, darlin’. We were about to give up on you.”
Rachel’s heart leaped. She would have recognized Clint’s voice anywhere. She homed in on the sound and finally made out his blurry outline. He was sitting on the floor, almost precisely where the two of them had been discovered together that other ill-fated morning over two months ago. His back was supported by the rear church pew, one knee raised so he might rest his arm. Beside him sat a jug of liquor.
“Folks, may I present to you my wife?”
Her only thought to get out of there, Rachel pivoted to leave. But the crowd had closed ranks behind her, and there was no way out.
“You can’t run from me, Rachel. Hightail it, and I swear I’ll come after you.”
She turned back to find that he had pushed to his feet. “Why are you doing this?” she asked thinly.
“The way I hear it, you’re planning to leave town. I thought maybe I should clear up a few things before you take off.”
“What things?” she asked expressionlessly.
“Like the fact that I love you.” He took a step toward her.” And that I think you’re beautiful and sweet and absolutely wonderful. And that’s not to mention that I can’t live without you.”
Rachel felt her skin pinken, and she lowered her gaze to the floor. “Oh, Clint, don’t.”
“Oh, Clint, don’t? Why not? Do you think I want to lose you? Dammit, Rachel, you had no business runnin’ off without talkin’ to me. Do you think I care that much if Aunt Hester makes good pies? Hell, no. I like pie as much as the next man, but I can live without it, and so can my brothers. What we can’t do without is the heart of our family. The love and the laughter. Havin’ someone around who’ll leave the laundry tub to boil dry if we need her. Someone to tell stories. Hell, even Useless misses you.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “You don’t need me. None of you do!”
“Matt’s drinkin’ again!” he bit out. “And last night I joined him. Cody’s got the nightmares again, too. To top that all off, there’s beef and venison hangin’ in the smoke house again, and I gotta tell you that neither the buck or the steer died of old age. And there’s chickens gettin’ their heads chopped off right and left. You gotta come back, Rachel. That’s all there is to it. To save the poor animals, if for no other reason.”
“You’ll just have to save them yourself.”
“The place is goin’ to rack and ruin without you.”
“Not with Aunt Hester there! I’m sure she has everything under control. She’s a paragon.”
“She’s someone to help you with the work, and nothin’ more. Someone to make life a little easier so you can have more fun with your family. When the babies start comin’, she’ll be an even bigger help. But the bottom line is, she’s just a side dish, Rachel, not our main meal. We need you, honey.” He broke off and swallowed hard. “I need you.”
Rachel gave a start when his scuffed boots suddenly came into view. The next instant, his large warm hand curled under her chin, and he forced her to look up at him. Rachel discovered that she was standing so close to him that she could see the sooty lashes that lined his eyes, the stormy gray-blue of his irises, the burnished tone of his skin. Her heart kicked hard against her ribs. He looked good enough to eat. He surely did.
“You have to come home,” he said huskily. “There aren’t any flowers on the table, and I love you so much, I can’t live without you.”
With no warning, he bent and began fishing in her skirt pocket. When he came up with nothing, he dived his hand into her other pocket as well. A satisfied gleam entered his eyes. The next thing Rachel knew, he was settling her spectacles on her nose. Bending slightly at the knees, he made a great show of looking her over. Then he flashed her a devastating grin.
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“I knew it. You look adorable in spectacles.” He glanced around, as if to draw comment from others present.
Someone nearby said, “I didn’t know you wore spectacles, Rachel.”
Clint replied, “She darn sure does. She just doesn’t wear them in public because she has the fool notion they don’t look good on her. I disagree. I think she looks beautiful in them.”
Rachel cried, “Clint, stop it. You’re embarrassing me!”
“Then come home with me,” he demanded in an oddly gruff voice, “so I can tell you in private how beautiful I think you are.”
Tears filled Rachel’s eyes, and her spectacles began to fog over. Clint took hold of her hand.
“Please, Rachel. Come back home where you belong. Every hour I spend apart from you, I die a little more inside. Please…” When she didn’t immediately speak, he hastened to add, “I’m sorry you felt cast aside after Aunt Hester came. Lookin’ back, I can see how it must have seemed to you, me all of a sudden backin’ off and usin’ the corn husks as an excuse. But I swear it wasn’t that way. I truly was worried about her hearin’ us.”
Rachel shot a horrified look around. “Be quiet! Do you want everyone to hear!”
“See?” he said with a devilish grin. “It’s a private affair, isn’t it?”
She narrowed her eyes, but it was all she could do not to smile. “You’ve made your point.”
“Then come home,” he said huskily. “Where we can talk in private.”
“Oh, Clint. Are you certain you really want—”
He cut her off with a kiss that answered her question far more eloquently than words. A sweet, wonderful kiss that sent tingles down her spine and made her toes curl. Exactly the kind of kiss Rachel had always dreamed of and had never received. Until she met Clint Rafferty, of course.
“I love you,” he whispered against her cheek. “Please believe that, Rachel. I’ll love you forever.”
The throbbing timber of his voice, so packed with emotion, would have convinced Rachel. The way his hands shook when he touched her was added proof that he was sincere. Joy welled in her chest, nearly cutting off her breath, and she threw herself into his arms.
His arms…His wonderful strong arms. The instant they closed around her, Rachel knew she was where she belonged and where she would remain.
For the rest of her life.
CATHERINE ANDERSON, the award-winning author of both contemporary and historical fiction, lives with her husband and three canine friends—a mixed spaniel named Kibbles and two Rottweilers named Sam and Sassy, who seem to think they are teacup poodles and that obedience training is for people.
It was SAMANTHA JAMES’s love of reading as a child that steered her toward a writing career. Among her favorites in those days were the Trixie Belden and Cherry Ames series of books. She still loves a blend of mystery and romance, and, of course, a happily-ever-after ending. The award-wining, bestselling author of eighteen romances and one novella, her books have ranged from medieval to Regency to the American West. Please visit her on the web at www.samanthajames.com.
Turn the page for a sneak peek at
IN PURSUIT OF A SCANDALOUS LADY
The first in a new series from USA Today bestselling author Gayle Callen
The biggest secret in London is about to be…revealed.
Every gentleman is wondering: Who is the beauty in the scandalous nude portrait hanging in one of London’s most fashionable clubs? Is it true that she’s a member of the ton? Who would be so daring? So reckless?
Julian Delane, Earl of Parkhurst, has a good idea. So good, in fact, that he’s willing to make a wager on it. If only the bet were all that’s at stake…
Determined to clear the family name from a scandal that claimed his father’s life, Julian believes the ravishing model will lead him to answers. Rebecca Leland—spirited, adventurous, with a bit of a wild streak—is just as determined to evade his questions. But when Julian finally corners his quarry, he may find Rebecca well worth the pursuit.
Rebecca felt a secret little thrill. She saw the way both women and men stepped out of Lord Parkhurst’s way. He ignored them all, his every focus on her. Awareness was a prickling flush that started at the nape of her neck and spread along her body. She barely felt Susanna’s fingers clasping hard on her arm, as she had to look up and up as the earl came closer and closer. Good lord, he made her feel positively dainty.
She’d been longing for something different to happen to her—and now here he was, large and bold and threatening beneath a veil of civility.
Lady Rosa beamed at her daughters. She had the same shade of dark brown hair as Rebecca, with only a little gray to betray her age. Susanna had inherited her warm brown eyes. She was a striking woman, displaying the easy elegance of her birth, yet at the same time showing her compassion and strength. She’d endured the fear of losing Rebecca to countless childhood illnesses and suffered through a year believing her son dead. Her marriage had almost floundered under the weight of a lifetime of scandal, but Lady Rosa had emerged victorious. Now the only triumph she seemed to truly want was to see her daughters well—and happily—married. And Rebecca almost regretted that she could not appease her mother in such a way.
“My dear girls, how pleased I am to find you together,” Lady Rosa said, beaming. “Lord Parkhurst, allow me to introduce my daughters, Miss Leland and Miss Rebecca Leland. Oh dear, I’ve already gone on so long about them, you probably feel as if you know everything there is to know!”
Rebecca’s smile stiffened. Everything there was to know, indeed. Lord Parkhurst probably did think such a thing, especially after the way he’d studied the painting for what seemed like forever.
And then it was as if she were in the dark, candlelit saloon again, standing too close to this giant of a man, meeting his intelligent, assessing gaze. He should seem out of place in this false garden, where people talked with little substance. Instead, she could imagine him one with the forest, hunting a beast of prey.
And she realized that she was the prey.
A flush of heat had her wondering if he could see her blush.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies,” the earl said, bowing his head politely. His voice was mild rather than challenging, though still deep and rumbling.
She and her sister curtsied. Rebecca could feel some of Susanna’s tension subside. Up close and by the light of day, he seemed a bit…different. There were lines of strain across his forehead, as if he regularly frowned. His eyes were hooded, almost tired.
Had he spent much of the night thinking about her, as she’d thought about him?
No, she wasn’t worth that to him. He was a bored aristocrat who’d found something to amuse himself for a few days—a month at most, she reminded herself. Though he might look different, he was surely the same as every other man of her acquaintance.
“Is this truly the first time we’ve spoken, Lord Parkhurst?” Rebecca asked politely. “I feel like I’ve seen you at several events.”
“And I have seen you, Miss Leland.”
He spoke with all politeness, but she heard another meaning in his words, and barely withheld a shiver.
“I wish to congratulate you all on the miraculous return of Captain Leland,” he continued.
“Thank you, my lord,” Lady Rosa said with a happy sigh. “I was…quite devastated by the loss of my son. With his return, my husband and I are restored in spirit and in our hearts. The captain is spending time with his cousins this month.”
“Ah, so I heard,” he said, glancing at the Leland sisters. “The captain himself told me. We have had several shared investments recently.”
Why hadn’t he said that he knew her brother last night? Rebecca wondered with annoyance. She was feeling more and more deflated. The earl was not so removed from Society. She only wanted him to be.
“Did you meet my son at university?” Lady Rosa asked.
Lord Parkhurst linked his hands behind his back, his appearance casual
—far too casual. Rebecca sensed…something beneath the surface.
“No, I did not, my lady.”
“Ah, then you must have gone to Oxford. My husband lectures at Cambridge.”
“I came into my title at eighteen,” Lord Parkhurst said. “I did not have time for much else.”
Lady Rosa’s expression turned momentarily pained. “Do forgive me, my lord. I had forgotten that your father died so many years ago.”
Rebecca looked between them, curious at what wasn’t being said. But if she asked her mother for details later, Lady Rosa would think her interested, and never let her hear the end of it.
To cover the vague unease she sensed in her mother, Rebecca said, “Our cousin, Madingley, did not attend university either, for exactly the same reason.”
He nodded. “I remember that.”
“Even though you are without an advanced education, my lord,” Lady Rosa said, “I hear men talking with much admiration of your knowledge and skill.”
“Admiration is it now?” His wide mouth quirked in a faint smile. “That is putting it kindly. But yes, there is education to be had, even if it is self-motivated. Yet formal education is something that should be taken advantage of—as I keep telling my brothers.”
“How many brothers do you have, my lord?” Rebecca asked.
He glanced at her, those gray eyes impassive. “Two, Miss Rebecca, eighteen-year-old twins.”
“Young then,” Susanna said, nodding. “I feel like my eighteenth birthday was so long ago.”
Lady Rosa flashed her a mortified frown, as if Susanna should never allude to her advanced, unmarried age of twenty-seven.
“Youth does not excuse common sense,” Lord Parkhurst said.
“Perhaps they see that you do not have a university education, my lord,” Rebecca said, “and yet you seem to have survived.”