Charlotte pressed up, her elbows digging into his belly, earning a grunt of protest. “What was I thinking? This isn’t proper. What will they think?”
He cupped her head, staring deeply into her panic-filled eyes, instantly mourning the loss of their peaceful interlude and the return of her worries. His thumb traced the furrow between her brows. “Love, calm down. We’ve done nothing wrong. If my memory serves, we’re engaged.”
“I’m proving everyone right!” Charlotte cried out. “I jump into bed without a moment’s thought …” She bit her lip, swallowing what more she would have said when noting the anger and disappointment in his gaze.
“That can’t be true,” he whispered. “For you didn’t jump into any bed that was offered to you. You waited for me. And, for that, I will always be infinitely grateful.”
“I slept in your arms,” she muttered.
Shaking his head in confusion, he whispered, “Weren’t you comfortable?” At her nod, he urged her down to rest against him. “You’re all mixed up, my Lottie. Why shouldn’t you enjoy resting in my arms?” When she remained quiet, he ran his hands over her back in a soothing manner, sighing with relief when she settled against him. He felt the tension ease from her, and he wondered if she would slip back into sleep.
“I’ve never had this,” she said in such a low voice that he almost didn’t hear her. “This sense of feeling adored.” She pressed her head into his neck, breathing deeply of his musky scent and a hint of pine from the soap from his hasty wash the night before. “I get prickly when I feel trapped.”
“I never want you to feel trapped, Lottie. But I will protect you. And cherish you.” His fingers played through the long tresses of her hair. “I hope you are able to see the difference.”
She pressed up again, her sherry-colored eyes filled with chagrin. “I may need your help to teach me the difference.”
“Oh, love,” he murmured, as he kissed her head. “Gladly.”
* * *
Dalton stood in the kitchen doorway a little later that morning, watching as she moved from the stove to the sink to the table in a perfectly synchronized dance. He had forgotten how much joy he could feel from the simple activities that occurred each day. “Hello, love,” he murmured, smiling as she jumped at his gentle sleepy voice.
“Dalton,” she gasped, as she spun to face him, an untroubled look in her gaze.
He froze as it was the first time he’d seen her so at ease, with no evidence of any worry. “You’re finally at peace.” He walked to her, as though in a trance, mesmerized by the radiant pleasure in her expression. Cupping her cheeks, he scraped his thumbs over her skin.
She nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes. You want me. Not just for passion.”
He shook his head and then nodded, before grumbling as she laughed. “No. Yes. I want you, but not only for the passion I know we’ll share. I want the conversations and the laughter too. My soul calls out for times when I can hold you in my arms and can feel as though everything is right in the world, simply because you are beside me.”
She pushed a lock of hair back as she gazed deeply into his eyes. “It’s like you said when you talked about …” She paused as she broke off, as though uncertain if she should speak his dead wife’s name.
“Mary,” he coaxed. “Her name was Mary, and I—we—should speak of her. To relegate her to silence is to dishonor her and her memory.”
Charlotte nodded, taking a deep breath. “When you spoke of Mary, you said she was your friend as well as your …” She broke off again, flushing.
“As well as my lover,” he said with an adoring smile. “Yes, she was. As I hope you will be. I want more than a woman to warm by bed and to cook meals and to wash clothes.” He stiffened as her eyes filled with tears. “I can do all that stuff for myself.” He paused as she stared at him with an expression he couldn’t read. “I hope you want more too, Lottie.”
She nodded, pressing into his embrace. “Of course I do. You’ll have to be patient with me. I don’t have much experience with that sort of relationship.” She shuddered, as his arms wrapped around her, and he kissed the top of her head. “I feel so safe with you,” she breathed.
“Good,” he whispered. He rocked them gently side to side as a rooster crowed, and the room brightened with the rising sun.
At the amused chuckle behind them, they sprang apart. He pushed Charlotte behind him, so as to protect her, while he glared at the person interrupting their quiet morning.
“I should have kent better than to interrupt,” Davina said with a chagrined smile, her eyes dancing with merriment.
“Miss Davina,” Dalton said, as he heaved out a relieved breath. Charlotte moved to his side, and he relaxed when she dropped her hand to clasp his fingers in hers. “I … Is there somethin’ you need?”
She shook her head. “Nae, I feared ye were ill when I did no’ smell breakfast cookin’ this mornin’, as I made my way to the big house. I’m sorry now to have interrupted ye.”
Dalton rubbed his grumbling stomach at the mention of breakfast, and Charlotte moved away to pour a cup of coffee from the pot. She thrust the cup at him, nearly scalding his hand, as drops of it sloshed over the side.
“I’ll start it right away. I slept late. It was selfish and foolish of me,” she stammered, as she wrapped an apron over her blue gingham dress. “I …”
Dalton set down the full cup of coffee, gripping her arms to still her frantic movements about the kitchen. “Lottie,” he murmured in a soft direct voice. “Ain’t nothin’ selfish about sleepin’ a little longer when you’re as exhausted as you were.” He ignored Davina standing behind him. “I’ll survive if I don’t eat breakfast.”
“I dinna ken if I will,” Davina said in a cheery voice. “Why do ye no’ join Sorcha an’ me at the big house? We always have food for twenty.” Her retreating footsteps were heard. “We’ll expect ye in a few minutes, aye?”
“Aye!” Dalton called out, waiting until he heard her softly close the outer door. “Lottie, what’s the matter?” He held a firm grip on her shoulders, when she would have raced after Davina.
She looked to the stove with a deep longing. “I earn my worth by the work I do. I must go help Miss Sorcha and Miss Davina.”
He shook his head, his expression fierce as he looked at her. “No. Not until I hope you understand something.” He paused and took a deep breath. “You earn your worth by being who you are, darlin’. I don’t care what you do, as long as you are honest and loyal.”
She gazed at him in bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”
“If you like to cook, cook. If you like to sew, then sew.” He pursed his lips in frustration, as though attempting to find the words he needed to express himself. “I’ve lived many years alone, Lottie. I know how to cook and to clean after myself and to wash my clothes. I can sew good enough for what I need done. I don’t need a maid or a cook or a washwoman.” He waited as she watched him with wide-eyed fear. “I want you. I want to share my life with you.” He rubbed at her shoulders. “Can you understand the difference?”
A tear coursed down her cheek, and he leaned forward, kissing it away. “I’d take your sorrow and make it mine, if I could.”
Charlotte ran a hand through his silky hair, still damp from his hasty wash before breakfast. “I comprehend the words, Dalton, but I don’t understand.” She backed away and pressed a hand to her heart. “In here. I’ve never been valued for anything other than what I could offer.”
His gaze filled with sorrowful regret, as he cupped her cheeks. “I know, Lottie, and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry no one saw you as the magnificent woman you are. But don’t let their failings limit you.”
She sighed, pressing herself into him again. “I’ll try, Dalton. I promise.”
He let out a sigh of relief as he held her close. “Come, love. If we don’t arrive for breakfast soon, Sorcha will traipse over here, and then we’ll never live it down. She’ll invent all sorts of tales to tell Frederick.�
� He leaned back and winked at Charlotte, as he dropped his hand to clasp hers.
They walked, hand in hand, enjoying the early morning as the day brightened and as the birds sang. “We’re too late to see the pink sunrise over the mountains. It’s magical to see the clouds change color as the sun rises,” he murmured. He led her up the side entrance into the kitchen, scraping his boots as he entered. In the large kitchen, he saw Davina setting out a platter of eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes, while Sorcha buttered bread.
“The twins?” Dalton asked, as he nodded his hello to the women.
“An’ a good mornin’ to ye,” Sorcha said with a wry smile. “They’re still asleep, although I ken they’ll wake soon.” Her assessing gaze roved over the pair, taking in their clasped hands. “I ken well enough ye are passin’ yer time in a worthwhile fashion.”
“Miss Sorcha,” Dalton said, a warning note in his voice.
She shared a smile with Davina. “Ye ken I only ever want ye to be happy, Dalton.” She motioned for them to sit at the large table. When they sat across from her and Davina, who had settled beside Sorcha, Sorcha continued to watch them closely. “Are ye playin’ her false?” At his outraged grunt, Sorcha gave a satisfied nod. “What do ye have planned?”
Dalton served himself a large portion of eggs, then held the platter for Charlotte, before setting it down. At Charlotte’s subtle nod, he said, “We plan to marry.”
Davina squealed with delight, rising to hug Charlotte and Dalton, nearly jumping with joy. “Oh, Sorcha, we couldna have planned this better.”
“You didn’t plan anything,” Charlotte protested.
Sorcha shrugged, as she hugged the two of them and retook her seat. “A wee nudge. That’s what ye needed. I kent the man would be mad with worry lookin’ for ye. An’ I hoped he’d come to his senses.” She smiled with understanding, as she saw Dalton duck his head. “Ye’ve mourned long enough, Dalton.”
He nodded, his gaze averted. “I know.” He played with his spoon, turning it over and over again. He stilled his movements when Charlotte rested her hand on top of his. He cast a grateful look in her direction. “I know,” he repeated in a softer voice.
Sorcha sighed at the sight of them. “Ah, I remember this time of young love, when I thought Frederick hung the moon.”
“Ye still do,” Davina said, as she nudged her cousin with her shoulder.
Giggling, Sorcha nodded. “Aye, I do.” Answering Dalton’s unspoken question, she said, “He spent the night with the men last night on the range. They’ll all return tonight, in need of baths and a huge meal.”
“Slims will be delighted that ye came to yer senses,” Davina said. “When will ye marry?”
Sorcha gasped, dropping her piece of toast onto her plate, as she spun to face Davina and then Charlotte and Dalton, her hands in front of her, as though helping them to envision her wonderful idea. “I ken when ye should marry!”
“Tonight?” Dalton asked in a hopeful voice.
“Nae, ye impatient man,” Sorcha said with a roll of her eyes, earning a giggle from Charlotte. Sorcha fought a smile as she saw Dalton squeeze Charlotte’s hand. “Nae, ye should marry at the Founders’ Dance.”
“The dance?” Charlotte breathed, her happiness extinguished as quickly as a fire under a bucket of water. “But she’s in town. And she means me harm.”
“Nae,” Sorcha said. “She willna have a chance to harm ye. I promise,” Sorcha said. “Ye’ll have us an’ the MacKinnons an’ all our extended family around ye. We’re better than any army.” She sobered as she met Dalton’s concerned gaze. “An’ ye ken ’twould help to marry in front of the preacher, in a planned ceremony, rather than earn infamy by marryin’ in haste again.”
“Again?” Charlotte whispered.
“Nae, no’ Dalton,” Davina said, “but everyone associated with the MacKinnons tends to marry in a scandalous manner or without the preacher present. This way, ye’ll have nae reason for the townsfolk to ever question the validity of your union.”
“Why should they care?” Charlotte asked.
Sorcha rolled her eyes before chomping on a bite of bacon. After a moment, she swallowed and said, “Oh, they care, a wee bit too much, about anythin’ a MacKinnon or a MacKinnon associate does. This will save ye heartache. I promise ye.”
Wriggling her eyebrows at Charlotte, Davina said, “And it will give most of us an excuse to go to town for the dance.” They knew a few of the hands would need to remain to care for the horses and other livestock while they were away.
“An’ I’m no’ missin’ another weddin’!” Sorcha proclaimed. Staring at the betrothed couple, she asked, “What do ye think? Do ye want to marry in a little over a week?”
Dalton frowned and shook his head, before he sensed Charlotte tensing beside him. “No!” he gasped, gripping her hand and turning to face her. “That’s not what I meant. I want to marry you now. Waiting another week will seem like forever.”
She studied his expression, as though searching for deception. When she saw none, she relaxed and began to eat her breakfast again.
“Where will ye live?” Davina asked, her gaze moving between the three other occupants in the room. As a stilted silence descended, she demanded, “What do I no’ ken?”
“Uh, we’ll live in the empty cabin by you and Slims,” Dalton said with a determined nod.
“Are ye sure?” Sorcha asked. She sighed when she heard the first cry from one of the twins, rising to calm them and to fetch them.
“Why should ye no’ live there?” Davina asked, as she took a sip of tea. She studied them over her teacup, her blond hair tied back in a braid.
Flushing, Dalton spoke in a soft voice. “I lived there with my first wife. Before she died in childbirth.”
“Oh,” Davina breathed. “I beg yer pardon. I didna mean to cause ye sufferin’.” She reached out a hand to pat their joined hands. “I ken well enough what it is to return to a place where a ghost lurks.”
Dalton huffed out a breath and shook his head in exasperation. “No ghost lives there, Davina.”
“Ye never ken,” she murmured. “I felt like my first husband haunted my every step until I fled our home. ’Twas the first time in years I felt I could take a full breath.” She took one now, as though to show she could breathe well, causing Charlotte to giggle. “No’ all fear is rational.”
“No, it isn’t,” Dalton said. “But it’s a good solid cabin, just like the one you live in. It’ll be a good home for us.”
Sorcha arrived with the twins, handing Mairi to Charlotte to cuddle, as Davina continued to eat her breakfast. Sorcha walked around the kitchen, rocking a fussy little Harold as he woke up. “The wee man never seems to understand life will be full of surprises and adventures once he awakens.” She ran a loving hand down his back.
Charlotte snared Dalton’s attention as she cooed and cuddled Mairi. Charlotte laughed as she arched her head back, keeping the curious girl from pulling at her hair, and settled her on her lap, facing the table, where Mairi proceeded to pound on it with a broad smile. He felt his breath catch at the absolute joy in her gaze as she cradled Mairi on her lap, and a fierce desire filled him to share daily moments just like this with her. He prayed fate would be more generous this time.
Chapter 7
The next day Dalton worked in the barn, giving each horse its portion of oats. He paused in front of one stall to scratch behind Boots’s ears. Boots was Frederick’s favorite horse and received an unfair amount of attention from all the hands due to that fact. She was also friendly and beautiful and never mean. “You like that, don’t you, girl?” he murmured.
“Tell me a woman who doesn’t like a little pamperin’,” Frederick said, as he sidled up next to his friend. He slung his arms over the railing before patting Boots on her muzzle. “Hi, girl,” he murmured. “You earned your rest.” He looked around his prized horse barn with pride. “I’m sure Slims told you, but we got a fair amount of work done the past week. Although I expec
t we’ll have to do more out near the Henderson homestead.”
“Aye, but that’s not urgent. I’d expect it’d be more important to keep the cattle closer to where you plan on spendin’ the winter.” He saw Frederick nod, although his gaze was distant.
“I’m not used to this kind of ranching,” Frederick muttered. “I liked it when it was all open and when the cattle ranged here and there, with a spring and a fall roundup. Now the land’s marred by our fences, and a man can’t roam as he’s meant to.”
“Free,” Dalton said, as he finished working his way down the long row of stalls, murmuring sweet words to each horse.
“Aye. Free.” Frederick sighed. “I can’t imagine my brothers being willin’ to settle down here, Dalt. And they won’t be able ’to run many more herds north. Not with the way things are. It’s almost 1890, for heaven’s sake!”
Dalton chuckled. “Your brothers can figure out what they’ll do. And they’re smart enough to know the runnin’ of the ranch is yours. There’d be a mutiny on their hands if they tried to change that.”
Muttering his appreciation at Dalton’s show of loyalty, Frederick gave a final pat to Boots, although he continued to lean against the stall of his trusted horse.
Dalton noticed Frederick remained beside Boots, although he felt Frederick watching him. Finally he asked, “What is it, Boss?”
“I heard you plan to marry,” Frederick said. “I’d hoped you’d tell me yourself.”
Dalton sighed and set down the bucket of oats in the feed room, before walking toward Frederick. He plucked a piece of hay from the stacks in the barn and twirled it between his thumb and finger. “I figured Sorcha would enjoy tellin’ the tale about our breakfast together yesterday mornin’.”
Chuckling, Frederick joined his friend. “Aye, she did. However, it wasn’t her story to tell. What troubles you?”
Healing Montana Love: Bear Grass Springs, Book Eleven Page 7