Thane drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, narrowing his gaze at the solicitor. Weston led the conversation in an obscure direction and he wished the man would hurry up and reach the destination. They’d spent the last three hours discussing Henry’s will, as well as how unsatisfactorily the terms suited both he and Miss Bryan.
Out of patience, he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Your point, Weston. Get to the point.”
“Righty ho, my good man. The only reasonable recourse is for Miss Bryan to accompany you to America. You’ll have someone to help you with the children, someone who already loves them, and she’ll have the security, protection, and provision of a home you can provide.”
Jemma sucked in a gulp of air and sat with her mouth slightly open, gaping at Weston as though he’d committed blasphemy. She started to speak, only to have Thane interrupt her.
“Are you insane, Weston?” Thane jumped to his feet, towering over both Jemma and the solicitor. “I’ve got no use for a woman in my life, especially one who detests me as much as Miss Bryan.”
“I never stated my feelings for you, even if your assumption is profoundly accurate.” Jemma glared at Mr. Jordan, wishing he’d sit down. It was hard to collect her thoughts when he stood over her, looking so formidable yet indisputably handsome. “Weston, your suggestion is utterly ridiculous and completely inappropriate. You know as well as I do it would be untoward for me to travel with Mr. Jordan, regardless of the children’s presence. It simply isn’t done. My reputation would be in tatters. Where would that leave me or the children?”
Weston smiled at them both, unbothered by their hostile looks or heated words.
“I quite agree, Miss Bryan. It is unacceptable for you to travel as a single woman with Mr. Jordan, which is why you two should wed immediately.”
“What?” Jemma squawked, rising from her chair, thoroughly disconcerted by Weston’s suggestion. “No, Weston. I’m afraid that is out of the question.”
“You darn sure got that right.” Thane glared at Weston then Jemma. If he ever took a wife, which he had no plans of doing, he wanted a docile, compliant woman who wouldn’t cause him any grief. He would only wed a female willing to yield to his guidance and direction.
Beautiful as she might be, Jemma Bryan was the farthest thing he could imagine from a biddable spouse. Strong-willed, determined, and independent, she held no qualms of speaking her mind or putting him in his place. She’d admonished him like one of the children when he tracked mud into the foyer after his walk. Throughout dinner, she’d frowned when he rested an elbow on the table or committed some other etiquette blunder. After she’d tucked the children into bed, she’d politely hinted at his lack of social graces as they gathered in the parlor.
No, a lifetime listening to the woman harp on him definitely wasn’t worth a kiss or two from her soft, inviting lips.
Desperate to dislodge the thoughts attempting to take root in his mind, he resumed his pacing.
“She wouldn’t last two days on the ranch, Weston. Miss Bryan is not suited to western life, not at all.” Satisfaction filled Thane at the look on the woman’s face, daring him to evaluate further her inability to embrace a new lifestyle. “A woman like her wouldn’t do at all.”
“You needn’t speak as though I’m not standing right here, Mr. Jordan. A woman like me, you say, is ill suited for your lifestyle. You don’t know a thing about me, but I’m quite capable of adapting to whatever situation may arise. However, considering your barbaric tendencies, the last person I’d willingly wed is you.”
Thane strode across the room until he stood toe to toe with the woman then bent down so their noses nearly touched. “Tell me, Miss Bryan, what on earth would a barbaric man like me do with a sharp-tongued, pampered princess like you?”
Flustered and intimidated by the man’s size and strength, Jemma leaned away from him. The raw, physical power he possessed bore evidence in the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest.
At such inappropriate proximity, she could see a mole on his cheek and the way his thick eyelashes rimmed penetrating blue eyes. His enticing masculine scent enveloped her, making her head swim and leaving her ill at ease.
Reviled yet fascinated by Henry’s brother, she fought an inner battle to draw closer or run away from the brute. She stood her ground and returned his unwavering gaze with a determined glare of her own.
“I’ll have you know I’m neither pampered nor a princess, although my mother’s cousins have ties to the throne. As for what you would do with me, sir, the answer is positively nothing because I won’t have a thing to do with you. You are insufferable, arrogant, and nothing like Henry or his associates. They were gentlemen in every sense of the word.”
“I never claimed to be a gentleman, Miss Bryan. If you want to bandy about names, I can think of a few choice selections for you. Let’s start with spinster. I can see why no man has succumbed to your beauty because only a weak-minded dolt would get tangled up with a woman so full of sass and stubbornness.”
A gasp escaped Jemma as she raised her hand to slap Thane. He grasped her wrist and held it in his hand while wild currents raced up both their arms at the contact.
Tension crackled between them with such force, it left a charged atmosphere looming over the occupants of the room. Even Rigsly seemed aware of the electric mood and lumbered to his feet. Shoving between the humans casting each other cold, intolerable glares, he growled low in his throat as he lifted his head to the stranger holding Jemma’s wrist.
Thane glanced down at the dog, wondering if the canine would really bite him if he felt his mistress was threatened. Not willing to find out, he dropped her hand and took a step back.
Weston rose from his seat and held his hands out in a placating motion. “Please, both of you. There is no need for insults or accusations. Let’s be civil about this, shall we?”
“Before I say anything else to injure Miss Bryan’s delicate sensibilities, I believe I’ll retire for the evening. Good night.”
Thane walked out of the room and up the stairs lest he further insult the stimulating and infuriating woman Weston had inanely suggested he marry.
Yanking off his clothes and sliding between the cool sheets, Thane bent one arm beneath his head and stared at the ceiling through the darkness.
The last time he’d seen his brother, he’d told him he’d be gone six months at the most. Full of plans to become wealthy with something he’d invented that would help revolutionize the cotton mill industry, Henry promised he wouldn’t be gone long. He tried to get numerous investors in the South interested in his creation, but no one was willing to test it on their equipment. After scraping together enough money to purchase a ticket to Liverpool, Henry set off to seek his fortune.
Thane knew Henry had found an investor willing to not only back him, but also make him a partner in a mill. From letters they exchanged before they lost touch, he even knew Henry decided to stay in England for an indefinite period. What he didn’t know was that Henry had fallen in love, taken a wife, and had a family, or that he’d become so wealthy.
Curious if Henry had any idea of the mayhem he’d created with his last wishes, in the stillness surrounding him Thane thought he could hear his brother chuckling.
Chapter Four
“Shall we begin without Mr. Jordan?” Jemma turned an inquisitive glance to Weston.
The solicitor took a seat at the table and nodded to Greenfield as he set a plate before him filled with tempting selections to begin the day. The children sat on either side of their aunt, quietly waiting to eat their breakfast. They lifted their heads at her question.
“Is Uncle Thane here?” Lily asked, leaning against Jemma’s arm. “He didn’t go away like my papa, did he?”
“No, poppet. Your uncle is here.” At least Jemma assumed the horrid man was still in residence. She hadn’t seen him that morning although she’d been up for hours. In fact, she’d barely slept at all. Upset by th
eir exchange before Thane stormed out of the room, she stewed with fury in the wake of his words.
At twenty-eight, she was long past the age to marry. Instead of having her own home, husband, and children, she’d given up her dreams to help her sister. Jane and Henry tried many times to introduce her to potential suitors, but none ever interested her. As the years trickled by, they finally ceased in their matchmaking efforts when she ran off one suitor or another due to her intelligence, obstinacy, and independence.
The only man to pique her interest since she was seventeen happened to be the one who stoked her ire to an irrational level. Thane Jordan was rough, horrible, and utterly lacking any form of sophistication.
Why, then, had she stayed awake most of the night? The deep timbre of his voice and the way his eyes sparkled when he held Lily danced through her mind. An unbidden desire to know what it would be like to be held close to that powerful chest in his strong arms kept her tossing and turning.
In the pre-dawn hours, she climbed from her bed even more distraught than when she’d entered it. She had to work to sound pleasant and keep from frowning as she greeted the children and accompanied them to the breakfast table. Braced to deal with their intimidating uncle, relief washed over her to discover the dining room empty.
Weston soon joined them, but Mr. Jordan failed to put in an appearance. Curiosity as to his whereabouts finally got the best of her.
“Where is Mr. Jordan?”
“I don’t know, my dear. I tapped on his door on my way down, but received no answer. Perhaps the long voyage and all that transpired yesterday left him weary.” Weston draped his napkin across his lap and smiled at Jemma.
She couldn’t picture Thane Jordan as one who would laze the day away in bed, even if exhaustion overtook him.
“I’ll go see if he’s in his room,” Jack offered, jumping to his feet and racing away from the table before Jemma could call him back. The boy soon reappeared, clearly troubled by the way he shuffled his feet and stared at the floor as he returned to his seat next to her. “He’s not there and his bed is already made. Do you suppose he left?”
“Who left?” Thane asked, striding into the dining room, grinning as Lily squealed and ran to him with open arms. He picked her up and tossed her in the air, making her giggle, before reaching out a hand to ruffle Jack’s hair as the boy approached him.
“We thought you left, Uncle Thane. I checked your room and you were gone.” Jack studied the tall man who looked like his father, yet didn’t.
With Lily balanced on his arm, Thane squatted down so he could look the boy in the eye. He placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I promise I won’t leave without giving you a proper goodbye, son. You’ve got my word on it.”
Jack nodded his head then once again returned to his seat next to Jemma. Thane carried Lily to her chair and set her down as he eyed the children’s aunt. With a roguish quirk of an eyebrow, he offered her a curt nod then walked around the table, taking a seat next to Weston.
“Did you sleep well?” Weston asked as Greenfield brought in a plate of steaming food for Thane.
“Like a baby,” Thane lied. If he’d gotten more than an hour of sleep, he would have been surprised. Mulling over Weston’s outrageous suggestion, the terms of the will, and his introduction to Henry’s two children provided enough worry to steal his sleep. Thoughts of Jemma’s porcelain skin, auburn hair, and copper eyes snapping with fire kept him wide-awake. The few times he did slumber, he dreamed of what it would be like to kiss the exasperating woman’s lips. He awakened annoyed and disgruntled.
Thane heard Jemma utter something beneath her breath and turned his gaze to her. Under his scrutiny, her cheeks glowed bright pink so she set her focus on helping Lily butter her toast, cutting it into smaller pieces.
“Where were you, Uncle Thane?” Jack asked after Weston offered a blessing on their meal.
“I went for a ride this morning. Henry has some fine horseflesh in the stable.” In two bites, Thane consumed one of the three sausages on his plate before cutting into an egg. The traditional breakfast of bacon, sausages, eggs, toast, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, and black pudding proved more than adequate to conquer his appetite. “I’d like to spend some time riding each of his horses before I decide what to do with them.”
“Jolly good, sir. That’s a grand idea.” Weston sipped his tea and ate his breakfast in good humor while Jemma pushed hers around on her plate. “Perhaps Miss Bryan would care to join you for a ride.”
Jemma glared at Weston. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on Mr. Jordan’s time spent with those much more akin to his class and temperament. In fact, were he to ride in a northern direction, I believe he’d find a striking resemblance to himself if he viewed the southern-most quarters of his mount.”
Offended yet amused that she’d refer to him as a horse’s hind end, Thane couldn’t help but admire her wit and ability to insult him while smiling decorously. A smirk lifted the corners of his mouth as he held his teacup up in mock salute before returning to his breakfast.
When the children finished their meal, Jemma asked them to carry their plates to the kitchen then run upstairs to make their beds and tidy their rooms. They obediently complied, although Lily chattered non-stop as she followed her brother out of the room.
“It is imperative we resume our conversation from last evening and come to a satisfactory resolution of this conundrum posthaste.” Weston wiped his mouth on his napkin then glanced from Thane to Jemma.
She set her fork on her plate and folded her hands primly on her lap, waiting for Weston to elaborate on his plans.
The two men exchanged a look beyond her comprehension before Thane slowly nodded his head.
Early that morning, riding out across the fields beyond the cottage, Thane considered all the available options. The further he rode the more clarity he gained. He wanted to get to know Jack and Lily, to keep his last ties to Henry close.
In addition, after watching the way Miss Bryan mollycoddled his nephew, he wanted him to grow up to be a man’s man, not some pasty-faced weakling afraid of his own shadow. The best place to do that was on his ranch.
As Weston stated, he needed someone familiar with caring for the children. Miss Bryan seemed the best candidate for the position. He knew she loved the kids as her own and it would devastate her if he separated them.
Despite his inclination to give her a hefty payment for her trouble and send her on her way, he decided to explore the possibility of Miss Bryan joining him in America.
He would have no problem taking her along as the children’s nanny, but Miss Bryan was correct in that it would ruin her reputation for her to stay with him without a proper chaperone. Concerns over propriety mattered little to him, but he wouldn’t damage her reputation.
Marriage to the beautiful, wasp-tongued Miss Bryan would at least put an end to all the unwed women in Baker City setting their caps for him. Trips into town left him infuriated when the single females wouldn’t leave him alone, plying him with invitations to dinner, to join them for picnics, and go for walks.
Women were nothing but heartbreak and trouble. He learned that from an early age. It was the reason he never intended to wed.
If he married a woman he didn’t even like, and it was in name only, it would provide him with a degree of protection from husband-hunting females while assuring his heart remained safe.
By the time he returned to the stable, brushed down the horse, and fed the rest of the animals, the idea of taking Miss Bryan as his bride no longer struck him as appalling.
Convinced Miss Bryan would wrinkle her nose if he walked in smelling of horses, he took time to wash and change before hurrying to the dining room, only to find everyone seated.
Miss Bryan looked lovely in a gown the color of summer peaches as she sat flanked by Jack and Lily. Too bad such an attractive female had to be so thorny and outspoken.
Throughout breakfast, he wondered how to broach the subjec
t of marriage then Weston provided a prime opportunity with his suggestion they resolve matters.
“I agree, Weston. The longer we wrangle with this won’t make it any easier.” Thane looked to Jemma and she gave an almost imperceptible nod for him to continue. “I’ve taken into consideration Henry’s wishes, the needs of the children, and what would be most beneficial to all parties involved.”
When Thane paused, Jemma leaned forward, waiting. “And…?”
“I think Weston’s idea holds merit. In the vein of doing what is best for the children, I’m requesting the honor of your hand in marriage, Miss Bryan.”
“You are what?” Jemma rocked back so hard in her chair, it nearly tipped over. A most unladylike grab for the edge of the table is all that kept her upright. “How could I possibly marry you? I don’t love you. I can’t even claim to like you, Mr. Jordan. You are quite possibly the most maddening man I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, honey. I sure didn’t take one gander at you and fall madly in love. You’re the most opinionated, obstinate, razor-tongued woman I’ve had the misfortune of encountering.” Thane held up a hand to silence her when she opened her mouth in rebuttal. “However, you love my brother’s children with a fierce devotion and I don’t want to take them away from you. What I propose is a marriage of convenience, in name only. Your sterling reputation will remain untarnished. As my wife, I’d provide for you, protect you, and share whatever I have with you. Everything except my bed.”
Jemma drew a deep breath, prepared to lambast him, but Thane’s stony glare held a warning.
“Before you insult me further or push my patience beyond endurance, I encourage you to think over your next words very carefully. If you need time to consider my offer, I plan to spend the day at Henry’s office, going over his accounts. You can give me your answer this evening.”
Without waiting for her response, Thane rose from the table and strode from the room.
Crumpets & Cowpies: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Baker City Brides Book 1) Page 4