The Inconvenient Bride Series 1-3

by Sharon Ihle

  Reasonably certain he had his temper in check, he tried once again to shut the man up. "You're lucky you brought an army escort with you, Braddock." Hawke's uncle took a backward step, alarm lighting his muddy yellow eyes. Pleased to see such a cowardly reaction to the vague threat, he went on. "I'm not in much of a mood to put up with any of your shit today, so why don't you tell me what brought you out here, and save the rest for someone who appreciates it."

  Taking another backward step, Braddock scowled from beneath his bushy brows, then cocked a thumb over his shoulder. "You're the one ought to be grateful that I brought these fellahs with me. These two gentlemen have come up from Ft. Sanders to have a look at your stock. I told them you've got yourself a breed of horses out here that'll run circles around the Indian ponies they're having so much trouble catching. If they like what they see, they'll pay top dollar for your entire crop of three-year-olds."

  Almost thirty head, Hawke thought to himself, containing his excitement. Glancing beyond his uncle to where the officers still sat atop their horses, he allowed a tight smile as he said, "Those horses are scattered around the north pasture. We'll have to ride out to take a look at them. Mount up. I'll be right with you." Then he climbed through the fence and whistled for his favorite sorrel.

  * * *

  During the hours Hawke and his visitors were riding the fences and selecting stock, Lacey fluttered about the house trying to get it in order for his return. She'd watched him through the window after she'd run away, and observed his stance during his discussion with the man in the tan coat. He looked angry, certainly upset enough to give her the idea that he might not be in the best of moods when he came through the door later.

  She decided to fix up the house for him, mainly in hopes that it would brighten his mood, but also because working kept Lacey's mind off the terrible indiscretion she'd allowed out by the corral. Cloistered as she had been for most of her life, she knew little enough about animals and their habits, and nothing of courtship, marriage, or men. She'd expected that Hawke might want to kiss her after they were wed—although for the life of her, she couldn't remember where she'd gotten such a notion—and even found herself daydreaming about what it would be like to experience such a kiss with her mercurial host. But never in all her wildest dreams had she imagined that he would do something so shocking as put his tongue in her mouth. Not that she hadn't liked it, or found it a wee bit... exciting. But what were the consequences of such a kiss?

  As she worked, Lacey imagined all sorts of repercussions from the sinful kiss, up to and including the possibility that she might be with child. The thought filled her with a terrible dread, even though she was sure there must be more to the creation of life than that, and she could hardly function once the idea occurred to her. Somehow, she kept going, and by Hawke's return at mid-afternoon, his mood was as she'd suspected, even blacker than the rapidly darkening skies. Lacey's wasn't a whole lot brighter.

  Still, the moment Hawke stepped into his house, she began to flutter all about him, pointing out all the little things she'd done in his absence to make the place look more comfortable without making it look too frilly or feminine. She'd washed all the windows, thereby letting more light into the drab interior, picked a basketful of wildflowers then arranged them in fruit jars to grace both kitchen and reading tables, and even freshened the air with a few sprigs of mint she'd found in his garden. All to no avail.

  "Thanks for cleaning the place up," Hawke muttered when she finished showing him what she'd done. "If you'll excuse me..." He started for the small room below his second-story bedroom which served as an office. "I've got a lot of work to do now, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't disturb me."

  "Would you like me to put the kettle on—" Interrupting herself as she remembered that America was a barbaric land where as far as she knew, tea could not he found, she amended her offer. "I could warm the pot of coffee, if you like."

  Thoroughly consumed by his uncle's final words—You got enough decent horseflesh here to pay your rent for the next year, but you've got a long ways to go before you'll see the deed to this place in your hand—Hawke absently muttered, "Suit yourself, but don't bother me." Then he disappeared into his office and slammed the door behind him.

  After that, Hawke pored over his books, adding and subtracting figures until he was bleary eyed but each time, the totals came out the same. By his calculations, Winterhawke was free and clear, but by Braddock's, the sum fell mysteriously short. Not that crying foul would do him any good. He couldn't even dispute his uncle's figures since their contract was verbal, not written, which was the only way, Braddock had insisted, that any banker could make a loan to a half-breed. Hawke knew he'd been a fool to agree to those terms, but he'd trusted this uncle of his to be fair with him. Hah! Fair. Now he had no choice but to wait until next spring to lay legal claim to the land he'd come to think of as his. Even though he'd been put off again, Hawke vowed that this was the last time—the last time, by God—that William Braddock and his bank were going to keep him from owning what was rightfully his.

  Disgusted and angry, he slammed the ledger shut and marched out of his office. The first thing he saw when he walked into the living room, was Lacey sitting in his brown tweed chair. He'd forgotten all about her. "I'd better be getting you back to Caleb's now. You ready to go?"

  As he waited for her get up and come to him, Hawke glanced out the window and noticed how dark it had gotten, even though his internal clock told him it couldn't be terribly late in the day. A bright spear of lightning shot across the sky then, and moments later, a tremendous clap of thunder rolled through the valley, shaking the timbers supporting the roof. Shortly after that, the first heavy splatters of rain began to pound the shingles.

  "Oh, hell," he muttered as Lacey crossed the room to where he stood. "Just what we need. A big storm."

  She paused in front of him, listening to the drops pummeling the roof. "It sounds as if it be raining hard enough to knock the top off your head! Are the storms in these parts always so grand and noisy?"

  "`Always," he said; resigned to their fate. "Trouble is, they also make a muddy bog out of the road between here and Three Elk, making it much too dangerous to drive a wagon across. I should have paid more attention to what was happening with the weather, but I didn't, and now..." He sighed heavily. "I'm afraid you're going to have to stay the night."

  "Oh! But I can not stay here with you, not alone and..." Lacey's cheeks bloomed with a full riot of color, and she couldn't go on.

  Hawke assumed that she was thinking back to the kiss they'd shared, and was probably worried that he might try to jump her sometime during the night. He could hardly blame her. He had been idiot enough to forget he was a half-breed, and had indulged himself with a taste of forbidden fruit. Of course once his uncle came along to remind him in no uncertain terms exactly what he was and where he stood in polite society, he'd seen things a little clearer again—clear enough to know that he'd been a fool to even daydream about keeping Lacey around.

  "Don't worry," he said trying to sound apologetic. "I promise you won't be disturbed in any way tonight."

  "Oh but..." She thought of Kate wringing her hands with worry. "I do not think that I should stay here."

  "If staying troubles you so much," he snapped, his foul mood suddenly intensified "then walk. You know the way to Caleb's place by now. I've got horses to take care of before this storm gets any worse." Sure the argument had been settled, and that she'd be staying the night, Hawke grabbed his hat and coat, then slammed out the door.

  Shivering in time with the reverberating door, Lacey rubbed her arms, even though her tremors were not caused by the cold. Hawke was in a mood again, probably upset because he felt he had to play host for the night, and see to her comfort. That would certainly cause him a great inconvenience and involve the preparation of an extra meal or two, and even...

  Lord in heaven! Wouldn't the man naturally expect her, Kathleen Lacey O'Carroll to fix the meal
s—a complete start-to-finish supper followed by a little something later in the evening? Well, she couldn't do it! Nothing past pre-prepared breakfasts and noontime sandwiches. Worried sick at the thought, Lacey could almost feel herself slipping toward the quiet comfort of her inner self, but she fought against the sensation, forcing herself instead to make a fast rational decision.

  If she stayed, it would mean putting Hawke out and irritating him even more than he was already irritated. It would also cause Kate to spend the night pacing the floor with worry over her. And last but not least, Hawke would demand that she perform several chores she simply was not capable of performing yet—namely, cooking.

  She could not stay the night, no matter what. The only correct—the sane—thing for her to do was move on. Proud of the first big decision she'd had to make in her "outside" life, Lacey quickly removed her spurs so she wouldn't stain them with mud, and put them in an empty crockery container at the back of the pantry.

  Then, after slipping into her cloak and pulling the hood up over her head, a less confident Lacy walked through the door and started down the road toward Three Elk Ranch.

  A woman is more obstinate than a mule—a mule than the devil.

  —A common Irish saying

  Chapter 8

  "Lacey?" Hawke called, just over a quarter of a mile down the road leading away from Winterhawke. His voice hoarse from shouting above the pouring rain, after another peel of thunder rent the valley, he called again. "Lacey, if you're out there, answer me."

  He stood still for a long moment, straining to hear her sweet lilting tones, but only the relentless tattoo of heavy raindrops battering his hat and slicker met his ears. He could hardly believe she'd been foolish enough to try and navigate this muddy, rock-strewn road in a blinding thunderstorm, but where else could she have gone? He'd searched the ranch high and low, and even questioned Crowfoot about her, but the boy swore he hadn't seen Lacey since she'd visited Phantom's corral—which also meant that the kid had probably witnessed their embrace.

  Adding fuel to that theory, the moment after he'd given his meager information, Crowfoot scowled, then bolted up to the loft to burrow himself into his hiding place amongst the straw. There he would stay, silent and uncommunicative, until he was damn good and ready to talk again. Either that, or he'd disappear into the forests for a few weeks—or even months.

  But Hawke couldn't worry about the kid or his fragile link to humankind now. Not with Lacey stumbling around in the mud somewhere and nightfall fast approaching. He cursed himself for going after her on foot instead of taking Hammerhead, the mule. He should have ridden him or one of the more sure-footed range horses for the view advantage, but he'd never been one to risk an animal unless absolutely unavoidable.

  A vicious bolt of lightning shot down from the sky then, splitting the thick trunk of a nearby pine with an ear-shattering crack. A large section of the tree fell across the road, but instead of making him more cautious, Hawke deemed this search as one of those "unavoidable" risks. He'd just decided to turn back and start over again on horseback, but took one more long look down the road for good measure. Still nothing.

  At the last second as he began to turn around, Hawke thought he saw a flash of white up ahead. Trudging through the thick, gooey mud, he saw it again. Something white flapping near the base of a lodgepole pine. At first he thought it was an injured bird or animal, but as he neared the tree, he realized the white streak was one of Lacey's arms—and that it was wrapped around the trunk of the tree she was trying to climb.

  "Lacey—thank God,"

  Obviously startled by his approach, she screamed, then lost her grip on the bark and slid down to the base of the tree.

  Reaching her, Hawke pulled Lacey into his arms and half-carried her a good distance away from the lodgepole, berating her all the way. "Under a tree is the last place you should be standing during a lighting storm. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

  She blinked the rain out of her eyes—or maybe it was teardrops. "Oh, Hawke, 'tis you, an angel o' the Lord come to save me!"

  Holding her in his embrace, he could feel Lacey's body trembling with both fear and cold. Oh, but she felt fragile in his arms, like a quivering frightened little sparrow. She nestled herself against his chest, prompting him to hold her tighter, and as she burrowed her head beneath his chin, Hawke became gripped by the damnedest urge to kiss her—not the way he had by the corral, but to lavish her forehead, her cheeks, and even her eyes with a thousand kisses. Nothing wrong or suggestive in that, he tried to convince himself. He was after all, responsible for Lacey's safety as long as she was a guest in his home—he had to comfort her somehow, didn't he? That rationalization almost worked until Hawke looked into her golden blue eyes and realized that should he offer such a gesture, it might carry more significance than simple comfort to her—to them both.

  Struggling against his own conflicting emotions, Hawke set Lacey away from him. "There's nothing to be afraid of now," he muttered in a hoarse whisper. "You're safe."

  "Oh, b-but I w-was so s-scared," she said through a sob. "A-afraid to go on, a-afraid to go b-back. I d-did not know the road would be so d-difficult, or that I could not see w-where I was g-going."

  "I told you the road was too dangerous to use in stormy weather. That's why I made the decision for you to stay the night at Winterhawke." As he spoke, Hawke tried to keep his tone from sounding too harsh or judgmental, but he couldn't keep the gruffness out of his voice as he asked, "What in God's name made you take off like that?"

  She blinked up at him, wiping both rain and teardrops from her eyes. "Why, y-you, of course. You said I c-could w-walk to C-Caleb's, if I like."

  "I didn't mean it literal when I told you to walk to Three Elk. I didn't think you'd actually give it a try." A violent shiver racked her body just then, reminding him that she was soaked clear through to the skin. "Come on," he said tucking her inside his slicker with him. He glanced up just as another lighting strike slashed across the skies. "It doesn't matter why you're out here now. We've got to get you back to the house before you catch your death of cold."

  Lacey balked. "B-but I have to g-get to C-Caleb's."

  "Damn it all, woman—isn't getting lost in the storm fright enough for you?" How could she be so afraid of him or so intent on following through on this fool mission after what she'd been through? "I'm telling you for the last time that you can't go to Three Elk tonight. Standing out in the open during a thunderstorm and the chill you've taken are much bigger threats to your safety than I am; now let's go."

  Still she balked "B-but I just can not do this to Kate! She will be t-terribly worried about me. I m-must g-get to her."

  "Why in hell can't you—" Hawke chopped his own sentence in half as he finally realized what she was trying to tell him. "Is worrying Kate the reason you didn't want to stay over at Winterhawke?"

  Her teeth chattering, she nodded briskly.

  "Oh, Lacey. I—I'm—" Hell, he couldn't even say he was sorry without explaining why. If he did she would see him for the complete idiot that he was. Maybe Caleb had been right about his needing someone else in his life. Even to himself, it was beginning to look like Hawke had been the center of his own universe for much too long.

  "Caleb knows I wouldn't be fool enough to try to bring you down this road in the rain," he said, reassuring her. Noticing how badly she was shaking, he scooped an unprotesting Lacey into his arms and began walking toward Winterhawke. "If I didn't show up with you shortly before it started raining, then he knows I'm not coming at all. He'll convince Kate that you're fine."

  "Y-you're so very sure of this?"

  "Sure enough to bet next year's foals on it." The hood of Lacey's cloak had grown so heavy with water, she'd been forced to peel it back, exposing her hair to the elements. As usual, it'd come loose from its bun, and now hung in wet spirals across her shoulders and face. Christ, but this woman had a way of burrowing into that soft spot of his, of making him feel things for her he ha
d no right to feel. The sooner he got her off of his ranch and out of his life, the better off he would be, that was for sure.

  Trying to ignore the way those drenched russet curls framed her enchanting eyes, Hawke muttered in a suddenly tight throat, "Press your head up tight against my chest and try to dodge the rain as best you can. We'll be back at the house in no time."

  All too happy to share his warmth, Lacey snuggled up close beneath Hawke's chin, tucked her head against his buckskin shirt, and allowed his very strong and, as it turned out, extremely capable arms to carry her back to his ranch. She thought she'd warmed up pretty good too until he walked through the door of his home and set her on her feet in front of the fireplace. Once she was standing again, and without his protective embrace, Lacey began to shiver even more violently than before. Hawke left her standing there with instructions to stay put, then disappeared up the flight of stairs leading to his bedroom. When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a thick woolen blanket and small bundle of clothing.

  "These aren't very fashionable, but they'll keep you warm," he said, dropping the items on the couch. "Strip yourself and dry off the best you can with this blanket. After you're dressed, you can hang your wet things in the kitchen near the stove."

  Lacey glanced around the large room, wondering how she'd be gaining her privacy, but before she could voice her concerns, he put her mind at ease.

  "I'll just stoke the fire, then you'll have the house to yourself for at least several minutes. I've got to go out to the barn to check on the horses. Is there anything else you need before I go?"

  Shivering too hard to speak clearly, Lacey just shook her head. After he'd added a couple of logs to the fire, Hawke left the house by the back door, but just to ensure her modesty, Lacey made a crude tent of the blanket, shielding her from the big bay window and anyone who might just "happen" by. Then she quickly stripped and dried her freezing body, careful not to get too close to the roaring fire and donned the clothes he'd left.