A SEAL's Struggle

by Cora Seton

  “The UK has four countries, actually,” Byron broke in. “You’re forgetting Wales.”

  “You’re right! Have you ever been to Wales?”

  Angus wasn’t sure if she was asking him or Byron, but it didn’t matter since she didn’t give either of them time to answer.

  “Welshmen are the coal miners, right? And they sing a lot. And for some reason people in England look down on them, but I don’t know why. Do you know why? Do you speak Welsh? Do you know why they have all those extra letters in their words?”

  Leslie was off again.

  Angus sat back, realizing he didn’t need to say anything. Leslie’s questions would fill the time nicely. In fact, he was beginning to think if you could harness the energy of those questions, you might be able to power most of the state of Montana.

  As she rattled on, he let his mind pursue the possibility. Would Leslie’s question be construed as a renewable source of energy, or would you have to argue they ran on fossil fuel, since most food in the United States was raised with inputs based on petroleum…

  He made a mental note to ask Jericho.

  “What?” He realized both Byron and Leslie were staring at him.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” Leslie repeated cheerfully. “Is that because you were an only child, or the oldest child? Sometimes older children don’t talk as much as younger ones do, but sometimes they talk more, so I don’t think it’s about birth order at all, really. I think—”

  Angus looked to Byron for some sympathy. Leslie was something else—

  But Byron was too busy filming her to notice.

  “You’re working,” Boone said when he entered the main greenhouse and shut the door firmly behind him late that afternoon.

  “I’m working,” Win agreed, tensing. She’d known Boone would come looking for her sooner or later, even if Avery had slammed her door on him earlier. As self-appointed leader of the community, he made it his business to keep an eye on things. She’d been grateful to be alone in here so far this afternoon, tending to the chores she used to do daily here. She needed to ease back into Base Camp life and get used to the idea of Angus spending time with another woman.

  If only she’d never left—never hurt Angus so badly. She wished she’d gotten the chance to explain things to him before Boone had whisked him away. She’d been trying not to think of how his lunch was going with Leslie, but it had been hard to think of anything else.

  What was the backup bride like? Was she pretty? Sophisticated?

  Loyal?

  Angus had proven himself to be loyal to her despite the way she’d abandoned him, and now he thought the worst of her.

  “You plan on staying this time?”

  Boone wasn’t going to give her an inch, was he?

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You know Angus is off meeting a woman who actually wants to marry him?”

  She nodded. “I want to marry him, too. You know that.”

  He shrugged. “Here’s the thing. We can’t afford to let you screw this up.” The tall, broad-shouldered, sandy-haired Boone was someone Win had come to like during her early days at Base Camp. Now he felt like a stranger. Was he angry at her—or simply afraid she’d let them all down again?

  She couldn’t blame him for questioning her staying power. She and Angus had been in love when she left, and she could imagine how difficult it had been for Angus to commit to marrying someone else.

  “You said you left because you realized you wanted to be rich.”

  “I oversimplified things, thinking that would make it easier on Angus.”

  Boone raised an eyebrow.

  “I panicked.” She laid a hand on her belly. “I found out I was pregnant. Five minutes later my father called to tell me my mom had cancer. Put yourself in my shoes for just a minute. Could you have turned your back on your mother?”

  He considered this. “What about Angus? He came in second place?”

  She closed her eyes. “I panicked,” she repeated.

  “What happens if you panic again?”

  The door opened. Chris, one of the cameramen, entered the greenhouse. “Hell, Boone, if you’re chewing Win out, we need to get that on camera.”

  “Too late,” Boone told him. “So,” he said to Win as Chris began filming, other crew members crowding in behind him. “Leslie’s here to stay for thirty days, and she’s going to be Angus’s top priority during that time. You owe it to him to stay out of his way. I mean it—I don’t want any more drama here.”

  “I didn’t come here to cause drama,” Win said, stung by his tone.

  “What did you come for?”

  “I just told you. To marry Angus. I love him, and I believe in what you’re doing here, Boone. I want to be a part of it—for the long haul.”

  “I want to believe you,” Boone admitted. “If you want to prove to me—to everyone—that you mean what you say, keep away from Angus and Leslie. Let them have their time together so that Leslie and the other backup brides are satisfied we didn’t screw them over. Let Angus decide what he wants to do. Maybe he’ll choose you; maybe he won’t. But at this point it’s his choice, got it?”

  “I don’t think you get to dictate that.” Win lifted her chin. “This isn’t a monarchy. You aren’t king. You don’t get to call the shots.”

  Boone stepped forward. “You’re standing on my wife’s ranch, no matter who owns the title at the moment. Riley’s pregnant. This is her home!” He caught himself, visibly bringing himself back under control, and Win realized what this confrontation was really about. Her heart went out to him.

  “Riley is past three months. Your baby is safe, Boone. Everything’s going to be okay this time.”

  He looked away, and she knew her words had hit home. A muscle worked in his jaw. He was terrified, wasn’t he, Win thought. Terrified Riley would miscarry again. Afraid what might happen if they lost Westfield.

  “I’m going to marry Angus, and I’m going to stay no matter what,” she told him firmly. “I swear to God.”

  “Then give him his thirty days.”

  Boone left, and Win, too restless to get anymore work done, returned to the bunkhouse, the camera crew trailing her. Unnerved by the idea of spending an afternoon alone with them, she ended up shadowing Avery, helping her with the animals and then heading up to the manor when she was finally done.

  “I’m supposed to meet with Eve and Renata to talk about our movie production company,” Avery said. “Renata has convinced Fulsom to hire us to do a retrospective about Base Camp to run after the series is over. You could join us if you like.”

  “I’m not really interested in making movies, but thanks for the invitation.”

  Win wasn’t sure what to do with her unexpected slice of free time. In the past, she’d spent every spare moment with Angus. She knew Avery, Savannah, Riley and Nora had initially come to Westfield to dedicate six months to pursuing their dreams of a creative life, but all that had been pushed aside during the filming of Base Camp. There was too much to do to meet Fulsom’s goals to spend much time doing anything else.

  Besides, she wasn’t musical like Savannah, who practiced on the grand piano in the front parlor, or a painter like Riley, who sometimes set up her easel there as well. Nora met weekly with Sue Norton, Walker’s grandmother, to work on the history curriculum they were developing together. They usually chose one of the guest rooms to work in when they were empty.

  Win wandered into the large empty ballroom, where they hosted wedding receptions and other gatherings. What did she like to do? It occurred to her that too much of her life had been shaped by her parents’ interests rather than her own.

  She’d learned to knit at some point, she recalled. She’d never really gotten into it, but she liked the feel of the yarn between her fingers. Which made sense—she was the granddaughter of a textile magnate, after all.

  Textiles.

  Another memory surfaced. A happy one, for once.

  Win had loved her
grandfather, who’d died when she was quite young. Once, he’d found her drawing with crayons in the nursery and smiled when she gave him her picture, something with bright flowers, a buzzing bee and a big yellow sun.

  “For you!” she’d crowed.

  “For me?” He’d been equally thrilled, or so she’d imagined back then. Now she realized how kind he’d been. No one except for Rosa ever noticed her drawings.

  That might have been the end of it in any other family, but weeks later her grandfather returned, a present in hand.

  “It’s not her birthday,” she remembered Vienna saying.

  “Every day ought to be special for our little princess, don’t you think?” he’d answered. “Open it, Win.”

  She had, to find a set of sheets for her bed, printed with the design from her drawing.

  “We’re making it part of our spring line for children,” he told Vienna. “Someday you’ll be lead designer at Manners Corporation, young lady.” He scooped up Win and gave her a kiss.

  The memory stopped her in her tracks. Her grandfather had died later that year. Later, Vienna hadn’t encouraged her to take any part in the business. Or to pursue a career in design.

  She’d gone to Stanford. Pursued a business degree, of course. A useless degree, until the last five months, when Vienna must have decided involving her in Manners Corp was the only way to keep her from running back to Base Camp.

  She didn’t need a design degree now, either, Win told herself. Just a creative project to play around with during times like these.

  A trip to town was in order.

  She checked in with the others to see if anyone else needed anything, hoping someone might ask to come along, but no one did, so she screwed up her courage, walked back to the bunkhouse, collected a set of keys and kept going to the parking area behind it. She’d grown used to the large community trucks in the summer and was just congratulating herself on getting away without attracting the notice of a camera crew when Chris, one of the oldest crew members, hurried toward her.

  “Wait up!” He was trailed by several other men, and Win sighed. So much for getting away. “Where are we off to?” he asked as they all climbed in with her.

  “Town. The craft store. It’s going to be pretty boring.” She hoped they’d leave, but to her chagrin they settled in and got seat belts on. She started the truck.

  “It’s got to be hard knowing Angus is with another woman, huh?” Chris asked, pointing his video camera at her face as she turned in the parking area and made for the road.

  Win kept her eyes forward. “It’s not ideal,” she admitted. She spent the rest of the drive fielding pointed questions but congratulated herself on not giving up much information or allowing Chris to make her look like someone to be pitied.

  It hurt more than she cared to admit that Angus was spending his afternoon with someone else, though, so she was grateful when she was able to park the truck and put some space between her and the camera crew.

  She found Jada’s Crafts to be a cozy little store packed with skeins of yarn, pattern books, art supplies and more and wished again she was alone to explore it. She could have spent hours picking through its offerings, but when her gaze snagged a loom, Win knew she’d found what she needed. It was a rigid heddle loom—small enough not to be awkward but sophisticated enough to take on any project she might like to try.

  “Can I help you?” A young woman appeared from around the counter, her hand-knit turquoise summer-weight sweater setting off her dark skin and eyes. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”

  “I’m Win Lisle. From Base Camp.”

  “The TV show? I don’t watch much television, but everyone talks about it.”

  Win was grateful the proprietor wasn’t an ardent fan of the show. That would make this conversation far less awkward.

  “I’m Jada Lyons. Welcome to paradise.” The woman gestured to the store and smiled. “That’s how I think of this place, at least. My little piece of heaven.”

  “I can see why. You have everything a person could want here.” Win reached for the box that contained the loom. “I’d like to try weaving. Got any tips for a beginner?”

  “Better than that—I’ve got a book.” Jada led the way to a shelf in one corner of the room. Win and the camera crew followed, the crew members struggling to take up position in the crowded little store. “Here it is.” She pulled out a hardback how-to book. “It’s got a number of simple patterns in it. Do you want to pick one? Then we can find the yarn you’ll need.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  Win settled into the task, first leafing through the book, then moving around the store with Jada to pick out the yarn she’d need to complete it. Jada helped her open the box and assemble the loom, demonstrating how to thread—or warp—it for the project. Win forgot all about the camera crew until it was time to pay for her purchases and leave. Chris was murmuring into his phone as they did so. When he ended the call, he shooed her out the door.

  “Let’s go. I need to get back to the ranch.”

  “What’s your rush?” Win asked, happily toting her new acquisitions down the block to where they’d parked.

  “No rush.” Chris slowed his pace. “No rush at all.”

  That’s when Win spotted Angus—and a pretty young blonde—walking arm and arm toward them.

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  “I love squash the best, because squash are hardy critters that hold up to heat and drought. Don’t you love them? They get along well with beans and corn, not like those—”

  Angus forced himself to walk at Leslie’s pace and not break into a run that would leave her in the dust. She was nice enough. Smart, too, despite her youth and wide blue gaze. But she talked and talked and talked—

  Leslie had taken his arm and clung to it since the moment Byron suggested they take a walk after lunch.

  “You can show Leslie around town,” he’d pointed out. “Get to know each other better before going back to the ranch.”

  At least they were moving, he told himself. If he’d had to sit there in that restaurant one more minute—

  Time had crawled at lunch. It was never like that when he was with Win. Working in the greenhouses, taking walks, making love—it didn’t matter. Hours passed in an eyeblink when he was with her.

  Win. What he’d give to be with her right now—

  “Hey, it’s Win,” Byron said from behind him. He’d been alternately trailing them and looping around to get in front of them as they walked down the sidewalk.

  “Hell,” Angus said.

  “Win?” Leslie frowned.

  He could tell the moment Win spotted them. She’d been striding along happily, a large bag in her arms, chatting with the film crew following her.

  Now she’d stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

  He stopped, too.

  “What’s going on?” Leslie asked, too busy looking up at Angus to notice the cause of his concern.

  Win’s gaze traveled from him to Leslie and back again. Angus realized what she saw: a man and a woman arm in arm. He shook Leslie off.

  “Hey!” Leslie pouted.

  Win came to a decision. Bolted like a deer who’d spotted a mountain lion across the street. She held up a hand to stop traffic, which thank goodness there wasn’t much of. Angus took a step to follow her. Realized that was exactly what she wouldn’t want him to do and stopped.

  Leslie took his arm again. “Back to squash…”

  Angus sighed.

  Back to squash.

  He hoped like hell Win knew he’d far rather listen to what she had to say.

  “You can’t hide in here forever,” Avery told Win when she returned from dinner in the bunkhouse to her tiny house, where Win had remained.

  “I don’t see why not.” Win had managed to finish setting up the loom for her project while her stomach protested skipping the meal, but now she was all too ready to set it aside and eat. “Do you know how hum
iliating it is to catch your fiancé arm in arm with another woman?”

  “Is Angus your fiancé?”

  “I’m having his baby!” Win took the plate Avery handed to her, set it on the counter and hopped up a little awkwardly to sit beside it. Her center of gravity seemed to have changed recently with the growth of her belly, but she made it, crossed her ankles, picked up the plate again and scooped a mouthful with her fork.

  “That’s not quite the same thing.”

  Win set the fork down. “What are you saying? You think Angus likes her? What did they do at dinner?”

  “Nothing. Angus introduced Leslie to everyone. She was all right, but she’ll talk your ear off if you let her.”

  Win digested that as she made herself take a bite of the bison and veggie-noodle lasagna Kai had served. She was eating for two, after all.

  “You have to meet her,” Avery said. “It’s going to be worse the longer you put it off. Angus is giving her a tour of Base Camp right now. When you’re done, let’s take your dishes back and get some tea together. You’ll meet her, hang out for a minute, then we’ll come back here. That works, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  Fifteen minutes later they entered the bunkhouse kitchen and handed over Win’s dishes to Kai. Returning to the main room, Avery pulled her to a small table under one of the windows where a model of Base Camp was laid out. She nudged one of the miniature greenhouses into a straighter position.

  “Here they come,” she hissed. “Act cool.”

  The door opened, and Angus, Leslie and Byron walked in. Angus came to a halt and frowned when he noticed Win and Avery.

  “I recognize everything at Base Camp,” Leslie said brightly. “I even know I’m supposed to sleep on this side of the bunkroom.” She strode over to where Win and Avery were loitering. “You’re Avery Lightfoot. I met you at dinner, although I already knew you from the show, of course, and you’re Win Lisle—wait!” Leslie made a face. “What are you doing back? I thought you’d left. When did you—” She turned on Angus. Turned back again. “Wait a minute, you saw her in town, didn’t you? And you—” She pointed an accusing finger at Win. “You’re here to steal my man!”