“Ah, come on children. Have you never experienced a food fight before? We had them at my school sometimes when Madame Wiggie wasn’t around.” Olivia was fairly certain there was nothing that went on in that school Madame didn’t know about, but she turned a blind eye and let the children have their fun.
“A...food fight?” Charlie’s interest shone in his eyes.
“Yes, I throw food at you. You throw food at me. And in the end, whoever is most covered, wins the game,” Olivia declared, although there were no official rules to a food fight. Everyone just threw the food until they had no more food to throw. Or until they were marched down to Madame Wigg’s office, which wasn’t very often.
Olivia was suddenly struck with a cloud of flour. She turned and identified Amanda as the guilty party. “Well, look at you taking the initiative.” The little girl’s face expressed her uncertainty whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Olivia dipped her hand in the bowl and made it crystal clear the game was on.
She flicked flour in all the children’s faces and was shocked when a one-inch square of butter landed on her forehead. She turned to see the culprit who had gotten the upper hand. Little Tara sitting in her high chair laughed with sweet baby delight.
“Why, you little scamp.” Olivia knew she was going to spend the rest of the day cleaning this mess up, but she didn’t care in the least. The pure joy shining on these children’s faces as they played with complete abandonment made her heart soar with happiness.
She watched Charlie pick up the big flour sack. “Oh, no. Charlie. That’s too much—” At that moment, the flour sack split and pounds and pounds of flour spilled all over the kitchen floor. Amanda, Charlie and Evan dove into the white mound and threw it all over each other.
“Might as well join them, I suppose.” Olivia lifted Tara out of her high chair and sat her right down in the middle of it. Soon everyone was covered in the ghostly white powder.
“What the hell is going on in here!”
Olivia whirled to see Chance staring at them in shock from the kitchen doorway. His unexpected appearance sent a jolt of something delicious to her core. He was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. Just the sight of him made her stomach swirl. And it didn’t help when memories of this morning on his bed—his weight pressing her into his mattress, his scorching kisses on her mouth—suddenly flooded her thoughts.
“I asked you a question, Olivia. What the hell is going on?”
His tall, muscular frame stepped inside the kitchen and studied the mess for a moment. Then his eyes met hers, accusation written all over his face.
Olivia picked Tara up out of the flour mountain, white puffs of flour dust floating into the air. Charlie and Evan stood and helped Amanda off the floor to stand between them.
“We are learning our lessons, Uncle Chance.” Amanda spoke up, a sweet little grin on her powdered face.
“Lessons?” He looked at her and shook his head in confusion. “What kind of lessons could you be learning?”
“We are learning fractions and scientifications and stuff, Uncle Chance. Want to come and join us?” Evan invited.
“Fractions? And Scientifications? And...stuff.” He mirrored Evan’s words as if by repeating them, they would make more sense. But Olivia could tell by the look on his face that they made no sense to him at all.
“Perhaps I should explain,” she started.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, but don’t you think the children should be cleaned up first? And this kitchen? I suppose I can hire someone to come in and clean—”
She laughed at his comment and then realized he was serious. She wiped the grin off her face.
“No, Chance. Of course you won’t hire someone to come in and clean. We made the mess. We’ll clean it up, won’t we children? That’s part of the fun.”
“Yeah, Uncle Chance. That’s part of the fun.” Evan chimed in.
“Why did you make the mess in the first place? I mean, what the hell were you thinking when you allowed this to—”
“I’ll ask you again not to say curse words in front of the children.” Olivia was getting a bit irritated at his inquisition. The children were her responsibility. “And, if you must know, the children and I were making cinnamon rolls when Amanda had an accident.” She gave him a pointed stare hoping to convey her meaning. He shrugged his shoulders, at a loss to understand what she was saying even though he was astute enough to know her eyes were trying to tell him something.
Charlie spoke up. “Yeah, Uncle Chance. We were measuring the flour and sugar with our measuring cups, Ollie said that was the same thing as fractions, and then Amanda leaned into the flour bowl.”
“I see.”
Olivia could tell he didn’t see at all. “We were having fun. Is that concept so foreign to you? Perhaps you should join us and you will see just how liberating it can be.”
“Yeah, Uncle Chance. Join us. It’s fun to make a mess. And libertating.” Little Tara said trying to wrap her tongue around the big word.
Olivia stepped back and let the children take the lead. Evan ran up to his uncle and threw flour on his pants. Charlie followed close behind and threw two hands full of soft butter at his uncle’s shirt. The butter stuck for a moment, then tumbled down the front of the pristine white surface leaving a yellow, greasy trail and landing in a solid plop on the floor.
Olivia watched the man standing in the doorway stare at the children in complete shock, his eyes round in disbelief. Olivia watched the children’s uncertainty return.
“Chance, the children want to play with you. Perhaps if you got down to their level they wouldn’t find you so frightful.”
His stormy gray eyes met hers and she knew he had gotten her message. He shrugged his shoulders again and extended his palms up to her. He was asking her what to do.
“Charlie. Evan. Why don’t you give your uncle some ammunition for our food fight.”
Chance dropped to his knees, his black suit covered in flour and his white shirt smeared with greasy butter. He smiled at her in question and picked up two handfuls of flour off the floor.
“You are doing just fine, Chance,” she said, smiling. “You are doing just fine.”
Two hours after Chance walked in on Olivia and the children in the middle of a food fight in the kitchen, he sat at his desk and poured over his brother’s financial books, but he had to admit, his mind wasn’t on the task. Not at all.
Visions of his wife running and playing with his brother’s children in her nightgown this morning made him realize she wasn’t like other women. She didn’t fuss about her hair or her clothing. She was a practical woman who liked to have fun.
He grinned at the memory of this morning when he returned from Liam’s office and walked into the kitchen and found her and the children covered in food. She wasn’t angry in the least. In fact, if he understood the situation correctly, she had initiated the whole thing because she hadn’t wanted to make Tara, or Amanda, he couldn’t remember which niece, feel bad about spilling the flour—or was it sugar?
Chance redirected his focus once more to his brother’s business ledger and flipped the pages one by one. Nothing was out of place. There were ordinary withdrawals for general household expenses such as food and clothing. There were payments to Gretta Anderson for housekeeping services. And then there was the money Chris paid to Miss Palmer to build the school.
Hiram had sent over all of Christopher’s business ledgers the afternoon of the wedding. And the first chance he had, Chance had rifled through all the receipts Olivia had provided for justification of the money she said she spent on preparations to build the new school.
She had accounted for every penny she took from his brother, so it seemed she was exactly what she said she was—a spinster school teacher from back East who came out West to care for four orphaned children and provide them with a good education.
His heart filled with admiration for her. Admiration that quickly turned to doubt. Why was he s
till so resistant to admit the woman was a genuinely nice person who wasn’t out to trick anyone. Because that wasn’t his experience with women. They always wanted something from him.
“Am I disturbing you?” He turned to see the object of his confusion stick her head inside his office door. “I wanted to talk to you about the school. If you have the time, that is.”
“No. I mean, yes.” Chance pulled in a frustrated sigh and set his pencil down on the open ledger. “No, you aren’t disturbing me and yes, we can talk about the school. I’m just going over Chris’s financial books and everything seems to be in order—just as you said. But there are some unusual withdrawals I thought you might know something about."
The change in her face forewarned him of her angry words. “I’m really getting tired of your accusations. I have no reason to steal from your brother. He gave me the money I needed for the school, and besides, when on earth could I have taken money from him? I arrived on the same train you did, so—”
Chance held up his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t accusing you. At least, not today.” His attempt at humor was met with uncertainty. “Really, I wasn’t casting aspersions on you. I just thought you might have some knowledge as to what these withdrawals were for. Chris seemed to share a lot of personal information with you through his letters, that’s all I was getting at.”
He watched her shoulders relax and she nodded in understanding. “Good. I’m certainly glad to hear you no longer think of me as the devil in disguise.”
He grinned at her humor. “No, that’s my ruse, don’t you remember?”
She returned his grin and his heart punched at his ribs.
She approached the desk where he sat and looked over his shoulder. “Show me where you think there is trouble. Perhaps I can help shed light on the problem.”
“Alright.” He turned to face the book lying open on the desk and picked up his pencil. “Here, for instance. An entry to a Mr. Anderson for a substantial sum. And one here. And another one here.”
She came around to the desk and pulled up the side chair to sit next to him. She studied the columns of numbers. He studied her.
Her skin was like the flawless surface of his mother’s prized porcelain china. Beautiful. His eyes roamed freely across her profile, down the slender curve of her neck and across the décolletage of her gown where the soft round swells of her breasts could be seen peeking—
“Chance? Are you listening to me?” He pulled his eyes up, intending to focus on her words, when they stopped on her lips, only inches from his. He could still taste their sweetness from this morning’s kiss.
“Mr. Anderson is the man Christopher hired to build the school. These are the down payments for the man to purchase the supplies he needed to begin.
“Would you be so kind as to stop staring at me like that and give me your full attention. Eyes up here, if you don’t mind?”
Her words finally penetrated his passion-induced daze. He raised his eyes to meet hers, gray winter sky mingling with dark mountain pines. It was a heady feeling and he had no will to resist. He leaned in closer and her lips parted in anticipation of his kiss.
“Mr. Anderson. He’s building the school. I heard you.” He told himself getting too close to this woman probably wasn’t a good idea. He reminded himself about being caught in compromising situations with marriage-minded women. But that didn’t really hold true anymore. This woman was already married—to him.
“Miss Palmer—” he breathed, pulling her into his lap.
She looked down at him from her perch where her luscious backside sat firmly against his lap, wreaking havoc on his ability to control his reactions.
“Don’t you think we should be on a first name basis if you are going to keep kissing me like this?” Her words feathered his face with her breath.
“Always the practical one.” He leaned up and captured her lips against his. His breath hissed from his lungs and he released it slowly, relishing the sensations.
Chance reached up and held her head with both hands, loving the feel of her soft curls under his fingers. It was every bit as wonderful as he imagined it would be. He deepened his kiss and pulled her closer, aware that his hardness was impossible for her to ignore. He should probably end this right now before it went any further....
His wife pulled away instead. “Chance, I don’t think this is a good idea, considering how you feel about me.” She pushed against his chest to rise from his lap but his hands on her arms stopped her.
“You have no idea how I feel about you, Olivia. No idea at all,” he whispered, pulling her back to him and kissing her with a passion he had never felt before.
She pulled away again and held his face in her hands. “We’ve only known each other for a little less than a month. And considering how you felt about me when you arrived, I wouldn’t think that much has changed. Not down deep anyway.”
She stood and walked to the window of his brother’s office and pulled the curtains back to stare out at the fenced back yard. He didn’t know what to say since he couldn’t exactly deny her accusations, so he remained quiet.
Finally, she let the curtains fall back in place and turned to him. “I grew up in a school. A boarding school if you will. Except those of us in residence had no families waiting for us on weekends and holidays. The school was our home. The place where we learned how to meet life’s challenges. It was the school of hard knocks and I graduated at the top of my class. I’m not like you, Chance. I didn’t grow up with money and family and friends. I grew up wondering what the next day would bring into my life. And it wasn’t usually a good thing that came my way.”
Chance sensed her withdrawal and he knew she had a point she wanted to make. He was certain he wasn’t going to like whatever it was she was going to say.
“I saw my mother suffer at the hands of my father. At least the man I think is my father. And I saw my roommates at school come and go because their mothers were left to fend for themselves...if you get my meaning.”
He had a pretty good idea where she was going with this.
“Women like me have to be very careful around men like you.”
“Men like me? Should I be offended, Olivia?” he teased.
She didn’t smile, nor did she softened her words to spare his feelings. “Men like you can turn even the most practical woman’s head. You’re handsome. And charming. And—”
Chance offered her his most appealing smile. “You think I’m charming?” He teased her again hoping to lessen the tension between them.
“And not to be relied upon. You do your best to make a woman think there’s the possibility of something special—something permanent. But we both know you aren’t the marrying kind, don’t we?
When he didn’t deny her words, she continued. “Chance, you have spent your whole life running from marriage because you see it as a prison. A responsibility. An obligation.”
He couldn’t argue with her there. He had run from marriage all his life, but now that he was married, he wasn’t as certain it was the prison he once envisioned it to be.
“You see, I learned a lot about you through your brother’s letters too. He was worried about you and he hoped you would settle down and be as happy and content as he was before he lost his beautiful Tessa.”
He thought of his brother and how happy he had been with Tessa—
He watched the sadness mar this beautiful woman’s face. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t want to give her false hope about this marriage when he still had so many fears and doubts himself.
“I’m not a starry-eyed young miss, Chance. I’ve seen things. Ugly things. And I’ve managed to avoid the pitfalls of falling for a man’s pretty words.” He saw her eyes drop to his lips and return to meet his gaze head on. “Or his soft kisses. I take my obligations to your brother and his children very seriously, as well as my obligation to Madame Wigg to build this school. I have no hope of succeeding as a mother or a teacher if I lose my respectability in this to
wn, so a dalliance with you under this roof wouldn’t be prudent.”
She walked to the door and opened it, pausing a moment. “It isn’t that I’m not tempted. You are quite convincing to say the least. But it isn’t going to happen, so I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to seduce me, for both of our sakes.”
He watched as his bride closed the door softly behind her leaving him alone with his thoughts. With sudden clarity, he realized there was nothing he wanted more than to win this beautiful woman’s heart. “The hell I will.”
Chapter 14
Supper had come and gone and her husband was nowhere to be seen. He had left not long after she had firmly put a stop to any thoughts he might have had that she would be open to a dalliance between the two of them.
As much as it pained her to admit the truth, she wouldn’t have to worry anymore about Chance pursuing her. Men wanted an easy conquest. They had their fun and then they moved on to greener pastures, or in this case, softer beds.
Olivia had made it clear she was not an easy mark, no matter what his opinions were of a woman who accepted marriage as a mail-order bride.
It was nearly nine o’clock. The children were fed, bathed and ready for bed. She had read to them, tucked them into their beds one-by-one with a hug, and kissed them until they giggled. She fretted all through the evening about how she was going to avoid the very man she wished to seek out. It didn’t help to know he slept in the room just down the hall from her.
She didn’t trust herself to be within reach of the children’s handsome uncle—her husband. She reminded herself he wasn’t interested in her. He was just a man who would steal her innocence and leave her to deal with the consequences. She certainly didn’t need another child to raise, even if she would be married to its father. She would have enough responsibility when he grew tired of his games and left for home. Besides, look what happened to her mother and the dozens of other mothers of the poor foundlings she grew up with at Madame Wigg’s school.
Olivia's Obligation (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 15) Page 12