by Jillian Hart
“Renzo, you need a break.” Pa closed the ledger with a thump.
Startled out of his thoughts, he turned his attention away from the window. How long had he been ignoring his father? Guilt crept in. “Sorry. My mind drifted.”
“So I see.” Gerard grinned cheerfully. “I get the same way after a while. All those numbers. Then the walls start closing in.”
“True.” How could he admit that wasn’t the reason? Now that they were taking a break might be a good time to bring up his concerns. “We need to talk about Ruby.”
“I see you watching the young lady.” His father turned serious. “You’re unhappy with me. I’m sticking to my word. You’re to treat her like any other young lady working for us, with respect and distance.”
“I never intended to give Ruby anything less than respect, Pa. You know that.”
“I do, but my family had the same rules when I was growing up, and they suited well. You wouldn’t want to put Ruby in a difficult situation, feeling she has to be especially nice to you even if she’s concerned you are taking her away from her responsibilities to Cook and Lucia.”
“That isn’t the issue, Pa. Did you speak to her?”
“No, as there hasn’t been a need for it. You have been the culprit, not her.”
“Ruby has done nothing wrong.” She looked sad and despairing, with her head hung. He couldn’t just sit here. He wanted to go to her. “We’re friends, Pa. You can’t expect me to be two-faced. To be friendly when I see her in church, but to ignore her when she’s here. Look at her.”
“I’ve never seen anyone who looks like she needs a friend more.” Pa nodded once, watching her through the window.
“Don’t you fire her.” Lorenzo rose from his chair and circled around the desk. “I can’t leave her sitting there by herself.”
“The staff will help her.”
“No, I will.” He didn’t care if his father guessed the truth. His feelings were honest ones. He adored Ruby. If Pa saw it, then fine. Maybe it was time for his parents, as much as he loved them, to understand he was a man now. He followed their rules out of respect, but he also had to make his own. “It won’t cost her a job, all right?”
“Hmm.” Gerard said nothing more, clutching his cane.
The shadows clung to her as she transferred the cold cloth to the back of her head. Looked like she’d had a rough morning. Sympathy filled him, sympathy he couldn’t stop if a gun was pointed at him. Whether or not he ever won Ruby’s heart, he would never leave her out in the cold. He would always need to help her. To do what he could to make her world right.
“I suppose this once.” His father called out when Lorenzo reached the door. “And if she’s on her own time, not ours.”
“I’ll agree to that.” He hesitated on the threshold, turned back and nodded once. A curious light glinted in Pa’s eyes. Maybe he was putting the pieces together.
“You’ll want to spend your time with the right kind of young lady.” Pa stood and leaned on his cane. “I understand the way crushes work, but you’re young. You don’t want to settle down before you’re ready, son. Best to keep this friendly and nothing more.”
Well, at least he knew for sure how his father felt. Troubled, he strode from the room, nearly ramming into one of the downstairs maids.
“Hi, Lorenzo.” Mae smiled up at him, eyelashes batting. “Do you need something? I could bring you more tea.”
“No. Thank you, though.” He circled around her, unable to get the image of Ruby out of his head, sitting on the step, shoulders drooping, wearing that worn-thin coat of hers in such cold weather. She had to be freezing. He pulled an afghan off a chair in the parlor on his way to the back door.
Icy air drove through him, and he was glad he’d taken the time to pull on his coat. He buttoned up as his boots broke the thin sheen of ice on the porch boards. Ruby stiffened at the crackling noise, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t seem surprised when he eased down on the step beside her.
“You look cold.” He shook the folds from the afghan and spread it across her shoulders. The soft wool shivered around her slight form. He liked taking care of her. Very much. “Looks like you had an accident. Are you all right?”
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about.” She had the cold cloth on her left hand again. “I tend to be clumsy.”
“I’ve had my moments, too.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” She twisted away from him so he couldn’t read her face.
Did she honestly think that would hide her feelings from him? He could feel her hurt and her embarrassment as if it were his own. Sharp and aching in his heart, where they seemed to be linked.
“It’s true. I’ve had many clumsy moments, too.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” A trace of a smile warmed her voice.
“You may not know it to look at me, but at one time I was such a disaster with the haying I was ordered away from all haystacks. The first wagon wheel I repaired came off ten minutes later and resulted in a broken leg.” He patted his left knee. “When my pa trusted me to take care of my own horse, I forgot to tie Poncho up. When I started cleaning his stall, he took off down the road. We had to pull men out of the fields during calving season to help in the chase.”
“Poncho ran away from you? I refuse to accept he could behave so badly.”
“He was a barely broken two-year-old and I was ten. It was a long time ago, but it took me years to live it down. That incident was just the start of a very long list.” He wasn’t going anywhere. He was right where he needed to be. Committed to her, he held out his hands. “Let me take a look at your wrist.”
“There is no need.” Steel rang in her gentle tone, a strength that made her delicate beauty more lovely, a strength that he admired. She tugged the afghan to her with her good hand. “The swelling is going down, so I’m sure it’s not broken.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” He leaned close enough to breathe in her warm, honeysuckle scent. The vulnerable places within him opened more. Defenseless to her, he peeled away the cloth. Snow tumbled from its folds as he peeked at her hand and arm. Bruising stained her satin, puffy skin. “It looks broken to me.”
“No. Don’t say that.” Distress etched crinkles on her face, drew her rosebud mouth down into a frown of misery. “I have to be fine.”
“You will be.” He shook all the melting snow out of the cloth. Soft, fragile feelings filled him up and were revealed in his voice. “First we have to get you inside and warmed up. You look so pale. This has to really hurt.”
“Not bad.” She shook her head slightly and winced. “I only have a few more minutes on my lunch hour before I have to go back to work.”
“Then we had better get you inside and thawed.” He rolled the dish towel into one long bandage. “You can’t be of any use to anyone if you’re frozen solid.”
“True.” The distress on her face eased a notch. He leaned in closer to wind the cloth around her wrist and hand, to give it support. She needed a splint, but it would hold for now. “Does that feel better?”
“Yes, thank you. I think I can work with it like this.”
How could anyone so sweet be this stubborn? He rather liked it. She was strong where it mattered most. He rose off the step and offered her his hand. “Come with me.”
Her big blue eyes gazed up at him, and in them, he read her protest. “I prefer to do things for myself.”
“Sure, but you’re injured.” He read something else in her honest heart. Encouraged, he caught her free hand with his. Ice cold, it was a wonder she wasn’t frostbitten. “It’s all right not to be so independent if you sprained your wrist.”
“Do you really think it’s a sprain?” Hope layered her words as she rose slowly, obviously struggling not to wince.
“No, but it doesn’t hurt to pray that it is.” He caught her elbow to give her more support as they climbed the few steps together. He knew his father was probably watching from the wi
ndow, stubbornly dismissing this as a mere crush. He would be wrong.
What he felt for Ruby was amazing. Overwhelming. Peace filled his soul as he propped open the door for her. She tossed him an uncertain smile, cute and wobbling, for she was hiding so much pain. She could deny it, but he knew her. Her skirts rustled, her light step padded on the wood floor and he held on to her as long as he could. Heavenly.
Once in the vestibule, he guided her past the doorway into the kitchen where a twitter of laughter suddenly froze and turned into an uncomfortable silence. Apparently his attention to Ruby hadn’t gone unnoticed. He steered her down the hallway, bypassing doorway after doorway until they reached the parlor. A warm fire crackled merrily, heating the room.
“Take my mother’s chair. It’s the warmest.” He lifted the afghan from her shoulders and nudged her gently toward the hearth.
“I don’t know what I’m going to say to my pa.” She looked up at him with those eyes that could lasso his soul. Trapped, he was helpless to walk away, helpless to deny her anything.
“I’m sure he will understand.”
“Understand? Of course he will. He’ll be very concerned, but—” She settled into the cushions slowly, wincing, obviously fighting pain. “My job lessens his burden, whether he wants to admit it or not.”
“You worry too much.” He spread the afghan over her, seeing her problem. Six weeks or so for that bone to heal was a long time to be unable to work and for his mother to go without a maid. She would be forced to replace Ruby, especially with their Christmas ball in the near future. He didn’t know what to say to comfort her.
“My brother lost his job and his last two weeks of pay.” She lowered her voice, so it would not carry in the cavernous room and be overheard by anyone passing by. “He’s coming home on Friday’s train. I’m the only one with a job in my family.”
“I see. I’m sorry, Ruby.” He knelt before her and cradled her hand in his. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, but thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.” He loosened the end and unwound the bandage. “I’m pretty sure you cracked a bone. The doctor really should take a look at this.”
“Don’t you dare fetch him.” Her chin went up. “He will tell me not to work, and I can’t do that.”
“I understand.” He chose two short sticks of kindling from the wood box.
The firelight gleamed bronze in his thick hair and caressed the rugged contours of his face. She couldn’t help noticing the picture he made with the flames writhing in the background, tossing alternating light and shadows across the powerful plane of his back, the impressive curve of his shoulders and the strength in his muscled arms. He could have been a prince in a fairy tale come to life.
What was she doing? She had vowed to stop being fanciful, to stop wasting her time on storybook wishes that could never come true. Especially now. She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to erase from her mind the image of Lorenzo kneeling at her feet. She couldn’t be carried away by her fondness for him. She didn’t have the right.
“I should send for Dr. Frost. I should make you go home so you can rest and heal.” He laid the kindling sticks on either side of her arm and began binding her wrist. “This is against my better judgment.”
“Thank you, Lorenzo. Thank you so much.” Gratitude rushed through her with such force she could hardly breathe. “I’m determined to be optimistic. I’m sure this is nothing serious.”
“That is incredibly optimistic of you. And stubborn.” A slow grin tugged at the corners of his chiseled mouth. “I’ve met donkeys less headstrong than you.”
“It’s my best quality.” She hardly noticed the pain in her arm as he tightened the bandage. Probably because it took all her willpower not to fall for this man and his midnight blue eyes.
“You have many good qualities.”
“Me?” Shy, she tried to drop her gaze but his eyes held hers captive.
The brush of his fingertip as he secured the bandage, the soothing murmur of his words and the unmistakable caring carved into his features made it hard not to fall. It was all she could do to hold herself back.
“You are incomparable, Ruby Ballard.”
Her? Hardly. “Are you sure you don’t mean odd?”
“Funny. You can try, but you can’t use humor to distract me. You are without equal.” He turned his attention to checking over her splint to make sure the knot he’d tied in the ends would hold. “That ought to get you through the afternoon if you are careful.”
“I will be.” The mantel clock donged one o’clock. Time to return to work. As she folded up the afghan and stood to hang it over the chair, she didn’t know what to say. How to thank Lorenzo for his help. For… Oh, she didn’t know how to say what she felt. It was too big and wonderful.
She cared about him much more than she wanted to admit.
“If this starts hurting worse, you have to let me know. Promise?”
“Promise.” She brushed at the wrinkles in her apron with her good hand, stealing one last moment to gaze at the man. With his feet braced and hands clasped behind his back, he looked like everything she could ever want in a man. Everything she could not have. “But it won’t hurt worse. I’m sure all this fuss is for nothing.”
“Not for nothing.” His eyes had never been so blue or mesmerizing, inviting her to fall right in.
It was time to go back to work, so she swirled away. Heart stinging, she strolled toward the door and away from his kindness that only made her want him more.
Lorenzo sat up straight in the hard-backed chair and blinked at the scratches on the ledger page. Determining if the ranch ran at a profit or at a loss was more complicated than he’d thought; his head swam with information and his father’s words ran together, making no sense at all. The ledger spread out before him began to blur. There he went, thinking of Ruby again.
How was she doing? He tried to imagine her lifting pots, packing wash water, doing whatever other tasks were required of her. Was she taking care of her wrist? Still determined to ignore her pain because her family was in danger of losing what little they had?
He shoved away from the desk, surprising his father. “I’m going for a cup of tea. Do you want one?”
“That’s a dangerous question.” Pa thoughtfully marked in the ledger. “Maybe you could bring back something sweet to go with that tea. I thought I smelled a cake baking in the oven.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He strode into the hallway. The house felt lonely without his mother in it. She had gone to town.
“Is there something I can get you, Master Lorenzo?” Lucia set down her dust cloth, her naturally stern voice echoing in the parlor.
“No, I’ll get it myself, thanks.” He kept going, sure he felt a hint of disapproval from the housekeeper.
A clatter of silverware echoed in the corridor, and he knew it was Ruby before she slipped into view. Her fine hair tumbled down from her up knot in fine gossamer strands to curl around her collar. Her back was to him as she stood before the table, switching around silverware on the table.
“Is that right this time, Mae?” Her question held a note of vulnerability. She must be learning to set the table.
“No. Honestly, don’t you know the difference between a soup spoon, a dinner spoon and a teaspoon?” He recognized Mae’s voice as she huffed, irritated. “Try it again.”
“How about now?”
Poor Ruby.
“No, that’s not right either. You have the forks wrong. Don’t you know anything?” Mae’s dislike rang in her voice. “This is a salad fork.”
“Why is there more than one fork? You can only use one at a time.”
“Because this isn’t a hovel. The Davises can afford more than one fork for everyone.”
“Oh.” Ruby bent her head to rearrange the silverware. He caught sight of her left hand, still splinted. She had to be hurting as she rearranged the order of the forks.
“No, that’s wrong, too.” Mae appa
rently left Ruby to guess instead of teaching her. “Get your mind on your job. Lorenzo is not going to marry you and save you from all this.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Ruby’s answer came so small and soft, he could barely hear it.
“He isn’t going to marry someone too poor to afford decent shoes.”
“I already know that, Mae.” Her voice was so little he didn’t realize she was still talking. “Besides, I can’t think of marrying anyone. I have to help support my family. There. Now, is this right?”
“No. Try again.”
Ruby just filled his heart right up. His boot crossed over the threshold before he’d even realized he was moving toward her. She was perfect, absolutely flawless, everything he could ever want. He could have closed his eyes, looked into his soul and dreamed her up. He just wished her life wasn’t so hard.
“Mae, please fetch a pot of tea and bring it to the library. My father would also like a slice of whatever cake Cook baked for tonight’s dessert.” He barely looked at the maid; he only had eyes for Ruby. His precious Ruby. “How’s the wrist?”
“Better.” Tiny furrows of frustration dug as she stared at the place setting. So determined to do a good job.
“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked, resisting the urge to brush gossamer, platinum tendrils out of her eyes. “You’re still really pale.”
“That’s just an illusion, I’m sure. I’m willing my arm better. I’ve made up my mind so my wrist will have to comply.”
“You are a force to be reckoned with.”
“I try.”
He nudged around a few forks. “That’s how it goes. I think. I’m no expert. Generally, I grab whatever fork is in front of me and eat with that one.”
“Do you usually help the new kitchen maid?”
“Always. Lucia insists.”
They laughed together. He had to believe this would work out. That the Good Lord had brought him and Ruby together for a reason.
Boots pounded in the hallway, Mateo’s brash and confident gait. “Renzo, there you are. We’ve got trouble. Thacker spotted a cougar by the horse barn. Ray is doing a head count to make sure we haven’t lost any cattle.”