Tyler welcomed the strong smell of horse sweat and leather, but it did little to erase the memory of the subtle fragrance of Laney’s rose water. Only it didn’t smell like roses. It was a scent he’d never smelled before, but it reminded him of fresh mountain flowers that bloomed in early summer. Somehow it didn’t match her character. Even though she’d sat quietly next to him for most of the ride out to the ranch, she wasn’t the quiet and demure type. Of that he was certain.
What the hell are you going to do with her, Ty?
This morning, he’d been bound and determined to ride into town and take care of this whole mess that Gabe had gotten him into. There was never any other option in his mind. He wasn’t going to be strong-armed into marriage by anyone. How was it then, that just one look at the woman had sent his head into a tailspin to where he couldn’t make a rational decision?
He felt sorry for her, that was all. Gabe’s crazy scheme had affected her life as much, if not more, than it did him. She wasn’t to blame for being here. Anger welled up in his chest. The urge to take Gabe behind the barn and lay his fist into him again came on like a stampede. Montana Territory was no place for a single female, and especially not one that looked like Miss Laney. He’d done the only thing he could think of at the moment to protect her. It was the only way to make right what Gabe had done to her by sending for her.
There are other men who would have eagerly married her.
Tyler scoffed. Men like Abe Standish or Mitch Hollister? Abe’s first wife had died in childbirth with their fifth child, and his second wife drowned. He was always complaining how much work it was to raise his brood, and that he’d marry the first white woman who came along. A Cheyenne woman lived with him at present.
Mitch had a bad reputation with the whores in town. Gabe had told him on several occasions how the women complained about his rough handling. Some of the other ranchers or men in town who would gladly take a wife were no good either, for various reasons Tyler couldn’t name at the moment.
A dull thump followed by a loud curse reached his ear. He looked up over his horses’ backs to where he expected Laney to sit on the seat of the buckboard, but she was no longer there.
“Damn this stupid dress,” she muttered.
Tyler stepped around the side of the team. She was sprawled out on the ground next to the buckboard, her dress and petticoats hiked up past her ankles. The corners of his lips twitched in a slight smile at the sight of her. She didn’t act as if she was hurt, and the annoyance on her face only proved she had a spirited nature. Where had she learned to curse like men at the saloon?
Despite being sassy, the woman sure was clumsy. How the hell did she fall off the wagon? He’d seen her trip at the church, too, and fumble with her dress earlier, as if she wasn’t used to wearing one. Tyler rushed to her side. She heaved herself forward to get her legs underneath her, and reached for the spokes of the wagon wheel.
“Are you all right?”
Tyler yanked off his right glove, and held his hand out to her. Her head shot up to stare at him with wide eyes. He suppressed a grin when her cheeks turned a bright red like a ripe apple. Damn, she was a beautiful woman, and the rosy shine to her face made her even more appealing. Laney’s eyes darted to his hand, then back to his face before she reached for him.
Her satiny fingers against his work-roughened palm sent a burst of warmth up his arm, much like it had when Reverend Johnson told him to take her hand during the wedding ceremony. Tyler ground his teeth in frustration. Why did she have to be so damn attractive and tempting with her peculiar words and odd behavior?
He easily pulled her to her feet. She brushed her free hand against her skirts in an agitated manner to sweep off the dust, but Tyler suspected it was more to cover up her embarrassment.
“Are you hurt?” he asked again. Soft wisps of her hair that had come loose from their pins swayed around her cheeks. Tyler searched her eyes when she finally looked at him, and the sensation of drowning in her blue depths overtook him for a moment. He blinked, but couldn’t look away.
“No,” she uttered softly, and shook her head. Her gaze held his as if an invisible string connected their eyes, refusing to relinquish its hold.
“I apologize. I should have come straight around to help you down, or at least warn you not to sit so close to the edge.” Tyler tried hard to keep his tone serious. He wanted to be annoyed with her, simply because she was here, and for messing with his mind, but she was quickly weaving a web around him without even knowing it.
Laney’s forehead wrinkled, and she tilted her head to the side.
“I didn’t fall until my foot slipped off the wheel. I’m not usually such a klutz, but these shoes and the dress are really hard to move around in. I hope there’s something else in those trunks that’s more comfortable to wear.”
Tyler shook off her peculiar reasoning concerning her clothes. She’d tried to get off the buckboard on her own? She had done the same thing in town, and hadn’t waited for him to help her up into the rig, either. At the church, she’d pushed the door open after the wedding before he even had a chance to hold it open for her. He blinked again, and forced his eyes from her.
“Next time, wait for me to help you down,” he suggested. “You don’t want to risk breaking your neck, do you?” If she continued to be accident prone, a broken limb might be a very real possibility.
Laney stared up at him. “I didn’t know you were planning to help me down. And besides, there’s so much padding in this dress, I doubt it’s even possible to break anything underneath it.”
Tyler frowned. Did she think they were so backwoods here in Montana that a man didn’t know how to be polite with a lady? His fingers loosened around her hand, but before he could let go, she gripped him tighter.
“I’ll try and remember next time,” she said, and stepped closer to him. She brought her other hand up to his chest, and pressed her palm over his heart. “Thanks for the help.”
Her sultry voice teased his senses, and Tyler’s pulse throbbed at his temple. The muscles along his jaw tightened almost painfully. Her hand was like a branding iron, scorching heat right through his shirt. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman as badly as he wanted to kiss Laney . . . his wife, at this moment. Dammit! What was she doing to him? He’d been under her woman’s spell the first moment he caught sight of her.
She slid her hand up toward his shoulder, and leaned closer. Tyler swallowed repeatedly, and held his breath. The urge to wrap his arm around her dissolved when a horse whinnied behind him, and hooves pounded the earth. He pulled his hand from hers and straightened. Gabe and several of his wranglers galloped toward the ranch from the top of the low rise that led from town. Tyler stepped away from Laney, and cursed silently. He glanced swiftly at her, then turned to reach into the back of the buckboard for her carpetbag.
Dammit, he’d almost kissed her. He didn’t even know this woman. He didn’t want to know her. She’d barely been here on his property for five minutes, and he forgot everything around him.
Nothing is more important than the horses. His father’s words echoed in his mind. Tyler gnashed his teeth. Least of all a woman he barely knew, a woman he was saddled with not by his choosing.
He shook his head. Ultimately, he was the one who made the choice to marry her. No one held a gun to his head. He refused to ponder his reasons for his impulsive decision to get roped into a marriage he didn’t want.
“Let me show you to the house.” He reached for her elbow, a little more forcefully than he intended. She stumbled along next to him, darting bewildered glances at him.
“Slow down, cowboy. I told you these shoes are uncomfortable,” Laney said, and pulled away from his grip.
Tyler shortened his steps, and mumbled a quick apology. He opened the hand-carved wooden door to the house that his father had built, and moved aside to allow her to enter first. He stepped inside behind her without closing the door, and led the way through the large family room and down a narrow hall
to the bedrooms.
He clenched his fist at his side in renewed agitation. Widow Hansen came by once a month to clean and do the washing, and she’d tan his hide for tracking mud through the place. He’d planned to clean up the mess before she returned, and he sure as hell hadn’t counted on bringing a wife home today.
Tyler moved swiftly past the room that he slept in, and stopped in front of the door leading to his parents’ old room. It was a place he rarely entered, and one that hadn’t been occupied since before his father died. During the last few years of Jonas’ life, the older man had refused to set foot in the room, and given strict orders for everyone else to stay out as well.
Tyler opened the door. Warm, stale air greeted him. Laney hesitated, and shot him a questioning look.
“It needs a little airing out, and the blankets and sheets on the bed’ll need changing, I’d guess. I’ll bring you some fresh ones. Otherwise, this should be quite comfortable and to your liking.”
Tyler waited for her to step into the room. He followed her line of vision, looking at the large four-poster bed that had belonged to his parents. The simple wardrobe leaned up against the wall to the right, and a dresser to the left. An oval mirror with an ornate wooden frame hung over the dresser, and a bowl and pitcher for washing still stood where Tyler last remembered it. A simple wooden chair rounded out the furniture.
He walked into the room, and set Laney’s bag on top of the chair, then opened the window. The cool afternoon breeze lifted the lace curtains in a light flutter, reminding him of Laney’s hair as it caressed her cheek.
Tyler turned abruptly. Why the hell did everything he looked at remind him of something about her? He had to get his head on straight, or he’d be in worse shape than his father ever was.
“Doesn’t look like you sleep in here much.” Laney’s words broke the silence. She wrinkled her nose, and ran her hand along the dresser counter, leaving a shiny trail behind where her fingers picked up the dust.
“No, ma’am,” he answered. “This’ll be your room. Please fix it up as you see fit.” He held his hat in front of him, gripping the brim tightly, and moved around her to leave. He stopped under the doorframe, and turned. Laney glanced at him, her confused eyes full of questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. The sooner he was out of this room, and away from her, the better.
“I’ll bring in your trunks. Supper’ll be ready in a few hours. I usually eat with the men at the bunkhouse, but I can bring you a plate. I don’t expect you to eat with them.” He stepped further into the hall, and added, “Once you’re settled and would like to take over the chore of cooking, you let me know.”
Laney stared at him blankly, as if she hadn’t understood a word he said. A look of bewilderment, something he would even define as shock, passed through her eyes.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a microwave, would you?” Laney laughed. She shook her head. “I don’t think you want me to cook anything unless it comes in a box with instructions.”
Tyler scrunched his eyebrows. A woman who didn’t cook? He almost laughed. His mother hadn’t been very good in the kitchen, either. In her line of work before she’d married his father, she didn’t need to know how. He stared at Laney. The skin on his chest tingled where she’d touched him minutes ago. Her forward behavior had ignited his body and senses, but now, a cold wave of dread washed over him.
No. He dismissed the awful thought that entered his mind. Laney’s behavior was unusual, but he refused to compare her to his mother.
****
Laney glanced around the bedroom, and released the air from her lungs in one long, drawn out breath. Tyler had just brought in the last of her trunks, given her another polite nod, and told her he had to go unhitch the horses. She stared at the open door to the room, and fought the impulse to run after him to tell him she would like to help. Something told her that wasn’t the wisest thing to do. Besides, she really wanted to get out of this confining dress, and whatever other layers she wore underneath. Hopefully there was something more comfortable to wear in her luggage.
Slowly, she studied her surroundings. The fact that this room hadn’t been occupied in a long time was obvious. A thick layer of dust covered the furniture. A crystal oil lamp, also covered in dust, sat on top of an antique-looking dresser, and another one on the small nightstand by the bed. Unlike the rest of the house, which she’d only glimpsed briefly, this room had a definite feminine feel to it, with the lace curtains, and the ornate rose and yellow-colored patchwork quilt on top of the bed. A lace doily lay on top of the dresser.
Tyler had led her immediately to this room, but passing through what she assumed was the family, or central, room of the house, it was obvious that the place lacked a woman’s touch. A large stone fireplace took up most of the wall opposite the front door, and a painting of a horse that hung over the mantle had immediately caught her attention. The wooden floor looked dull and was in desperate need of a good washing and polishing. If she ever got lost inside the house, she could simply follow the dried mud tracks that led from the entrance down the hall. A distinct odor of leather filled the air. Several saddles and various other tack lay strewn around the floor.
How long had it been since a woman had lived in this house? Was there even a kitchen? Since she hadn’t been given a formal tour, she’d have to go explore on her own. Dread filled her. Tyler wanted her to cook. She didn’t even have a stove in her motel room, only a microwave. Dinner usually consisted of a warmed up can of soup or a peanut butter sandwich. She’d done a little cooking several years ago when she was still living with one of her foster families, but most everything had been processed and packaged foods. She certainly wouldn’t find any of those things here.
Laney shrugged it off for now. She had more pressing things to deal with at the moment. She moved in front of the oval mirror hanging over the dresser.
“Oh my god,” she said slowly, and touched her hands to her hair. “I look like a Barbie doll.”
Curls of her blonde, normally straight hair were piled on top of her head. More curls framed her face, and tumbled down her back. Laney’s priority swiftly changed from undressing to searching and rooting for all the pins that held her hair in place. She much preferred to wear it swept back in a ponytail, or freely down her back. Curling and styling her hair in this fashion must have taken hours.
“I sure hope I won’t be expected to do this every day,” she mumbled.
Once her hair was free, she went to work releasing the countless buttons on the tight bodice of her dress. More layers of what looked like a white nightgown covered her, and underneath that was a stiff corset.
“No wonder I can’t breathe.”
She stepped out of the skirt after untying her tight shoes. She flipped them off, and they landed with a dull thud against the wooden wall of the room. Next, she peeled the stockings off her feet, and wiggled her toes freely for the first time in hours. Laney sighed loudly.
Three layers of petticoats followed the skirt, and she finally assessed her appearance in the mirror again. She laughed. There she stood, in white bloomers, a corset, and a white chemise under that.
She raked her hands through her hair to straighten the curls as best she could, then knelt in front of one of the trunks. Flipping open the lid, she rummaged through the contents. Petticoats, undergarments, dresses, corsets, several hats.
“No jeans and no t-shirts,” she stated the obvious. Somehow she had already known she wouldn’t find any familiar or comfortable clothes in her luggage. The reverend hadn’t been kidding. Everything she’d seen so far pointed to the truth. She truly was in the year 1872.
What would Tyler think if she wore modern-day clothes? A slow smile spread across her face. Her fingers tingled suddenly at the memory of his hand wrapping around hers, pulling her up off the ground after she lost her footing and fell from the wagon. Of all the embarrassing things to do, but he hadn’t laughed at her, hadn’t made fun of her mishap. There had been genuine concern in his e
yes.
Tyler was the most polite guy she’d ever met, and it made him even more attractive. She wondered again why he would require a prostitute . . . correction, a mail order bride, when he could probably have his pick of a wife locally. Was it true that there really weren’t any unmarried women in the area?
Laney stood, and glanced in the mirror again. She ran her hand along the contours of the corset. The stiff contraption gave her an unnatural hourglass shape.
“There’s no way I’m wearing this thing every day,” she mumbled, and searched for the hooks or ties that would loosen the corset from around her ribcage. She turned sideways and peered into the mirror over her shoulder. The lacings were at the back. She reached her hand over her shoulder, then under, trying to get to the strings.
“Dammit. How am I supposed to get this thing off me?”
She turned in a circle, trying to see into the mirror while at the same time reach the lacings with her fingers. Laney growled loudly in frustration. She was tired, hungry, and she desperately needed to use the bathroom.
“I bet there isn’t even a bathroom,” she said out loud.
Exasperated, she moved away from the mirror. With a loud sigh, she let herself fall backwards onto the bed, sending up a small cloud of dust. Laney stared up at the ceiling. A loud knock sent her bolting upright again. Her eyes fell to the open door to her room. Tyler filled the frame, and their eyes met. His gaze traveled up and down her body, then he quickly turned his back to her.
“Thank God you’re here.” Laney scrambled from the bed and rushed to him from across the room.
“Eddie will have supper ready in about a half an hour.”
He stepped out into the hall, and Laney grabbed his arm before he had a chance to walk away.
“Wait. I need your help, Tyler.”
Tyler’s muscles tensed underneath her hand, and he turned his head slightly to glance back at her.
“Please, I can’t undo this corset. Could you untie the lacing for me? I really need to change my clothes.” Laney peered up at him, and her mouth went dry. Tyler’s eyes roamed her face, every muscle along his jaw tense. For a split second, it seemed as if he was going to pull away from her and keep walking. She swallowed her apprehension.
Ain't No Angel Page 6