Hay liked what he saw. Regan could have turned tail and headed back to North Carolina after the death of her husband, but she hadn’t. She could have stayed in town instead of taking charge of the property, but she hadn’t done that, either. She showed all the signs of being an organized and well-trained housekeeper and a woman who enjoyed life and wanted to make her surroundings beautiful. He liked that about her. Of course, the fact that she looked like a wet dream that wouldn’t quit didn’t hurt his good opinion.
Humming, he sauntered out to the bunkhouse to retrieve his rifle. Rabbit sounded good for dinner, and he’d seen more than he could count in the last few days. They’d have to be sure and put up a sound fence when they established the garden.
He stopped in his tracks. Planning a garden meant a commitment greater than laying pipe for a well. Fuck! He’d let her get to him just as she had infiltrated Seth’s thoughts. If he didn’t watch out, Seth Pratt wouldn’t be the only son of a bitch trapped in the widow Stone’s sexy web.
And if he was right, he and Seth wouldn’t even have her husband’s memory to fight. In everything he examined in the cabin, there was nothing of Mr. Stone—not a hairbrush or well-used pipe or masculine-scented robe. Unless he missed his guess, Mrs. Stone had not been in love with her husband.
* * * *
So deep had she sunk into her thoughts, they cleared town and were well underway before she noticed. “I’m sorry. Did you need help at the grocer’s?”
“The store owner helped me load.”
“Good.” She waited a few seconds for Seth to add something more. He didn’t. “How long have you and Hay been friends?”
“Years.”
“How did you meet?”
He looked at her, exasperation showing in his eyes. She knew he didn’t want a conversation.
“In a saloon, in Abilene.”
“Texas?” She knew Seth hailed from Texas and wondered what Hay was doing there.
“Kansas.” He shifted his attention back to the trail.
“That’s interesting. What were the two of you doing there?”
Seth shook his head. “You will insist on my talkin’, won’t you?”
Regan folded the lap rug and put it beside her. The day had warmed. “It makes the time go faster.”
He huffed a breath, as though considering what to do. Supremely confident she could talk his ears off for the rest of the journey, she waited. Her father often chided her for being a chatterbox, but she learned early on that people underestimated a woman who talked a great deal, thinking her shallow and witless. Regan had used such misconceptions to her advantage in the past. She didn’t want to do so now. Her interest in both Seth and Hay was sincere.
“We were gettin’ drunk, if you must know.”
“Really. Why?”
“I was celebratin’ finishing my first cattle drive. Hay was just celebratin’ being Hay, I reckon.”
Regan laughed. “He does have a way about him, something that makes the day lighter.”
“It seems that way.”
She tilted her head and studied Seth’s face. “You mean he isn’t like that?”
He shrugged. “Every man has his lighter moments and his darker ones.”
True. She saw more seriousness in Seth, though the loss of his arm probably caused him some melancholia. Hay displayed a sunnier disposition. The only time she noticed a shadow, he had seemed concerned about Seth.
“So did you become friends right then and there, in that Abilene saloon?”
“I reckon. The next mornin’ we happened into each other again over breakfast. I told him I was headed back to Texas and he said he’d never been to Texas, and we’ve been traveling together ever since.”
“Searching for fortune?”
Seth snorted. “Gettin’ into trouble, more like it.” He glanced at her again, this time with a slight smile. “Hay’s doin’.”
“Anyone might think you an unlikely pair, but when you’re together you seem perfectly suited.”
“I ain’t plannin’ to marry the man!”
She laughed. “I just meant that you seem like people who have known each other all your lives. I thought maybe you met in the war. I’ve heard that men form bonds when they fight alongside each other.”
He stared at her. “That would have been hard to do. Hay hails from Carolina, sure, but he fought for the Union. If not for fate, it might have been him who shot off my arm.”
* * * *
“She wants you.” Seth bent at the knees, hefted one of the pipes out of the wagon and onto his left shoulder, using his elbow to keep it balanced at the center.
“Who?” Hay lifted another pipe and they started up the steep rise, leaving the wagon at the bottom on the trail.
“Regan, you damn fool, who do you think?” If dusk held off for another hour, they would have the wagon unloaded tonight and could start on the well in the morning. After that, he’d be off. No way could he stay and watch Regan with Hay. Before jumping down from the wagon, she had apologized for her actions. Now he knew she not only wanted Hay but regretted their moment on the trail to town.
“I want her, too, but I have her marked in my mind as yours.”
Seth stopped dead in his tracks. “What the hell do you mean you want her, too?”
Hay kept on. “Just what I said. It’s been hard work, but I’ve kept my pecker in my pants because I know you care for her. Come on. There’s a lot to do before nightfall.”
Huffing a breath, Seth shifted the weight slightly and started up again. “Huh,” he muttered to himself. “Thinks she’s mine. Didn’t I just tell the man she wants him? He never listens, the fucker.”
“Besides, how do you know?” Hay picked up the conversation as though they never broke it. He lowered his load, placing his pipe next to the others they already carried up, then removed a cloth from his pocket and wiped his brow.
“Ain’t your sweat dirty?” Seth grumbled. “I’ve never seen you with anything but a clean, white hankie. And she told me so, that’s how I know.” He hid the pain of it behind a sober expression and mild words.
“It’s not a hankie, it’s a cloth, and a gentleman always carries a fresh one,” Hay said, smiling.
“You’re no goddamned gentleman.”
“Try to explain that to my mother and father,” Hay said. “You mean she just came right out and said she wanted to fuck me? I find that hard to believe.”
“Two more loads,” Seth said, already starting down. His arm ached like a son of a bitch, but he didn’t let it show. Later he’d rub a good dose of liniment over the scars and hope he could hold his own tomorrow.
Hay caught up easily, and they walked in silence for a minute. Then Seth continued. “We kissed, and—”
“Hold on a minute. You kissed?”
“—and before I knew it, her dress was pushed up and—”
“Fuck. I thought you said she wanted me,” Hay demanded, pulling Seth to a halt.
“I’m gettin’ to that part.”
“Seems like a damn lot of other parts going on first.”
“She said she wanted to see my arm,” Seth blurted.
“Oh,” Hay said, taking a deep breath and sticking his hands in his back pocket. “Did you show her?”
Seth closed his eyes and pictured the look of horror on his former fiancée’s face when she saw the mass of folded skin and scars where his arm ended. “Hell no. It’s no sight for a woman.”
“For a woman who loves you it is.”
Seth frowned and moved on back toward the wagon. “I was good for a diddling, that’s all. When I wouldn’t take off my shirt, she reminded me she had two men to choose from and I wasn’t in the runnin’ any longer.”
Hay passed him by. “‘The fool doth think he is wise.’ She thought you didn’t trust her. Come on, daylight’s going fast.”
Seth went along a little slower. He pushed himself, every day keeping up a grueling pace just to prove to himself that he could. Tonight his arm
ached, especially the part that wasn’t there. His head ached, too, and so did his heart. Oh, he knew losing Regan wasn’t a fatal blow. They hadn’t the chance to know each other well enough for her to be part of his every thought and breath. But being with her felt right, and if he stayed much longer he’d be hooked like a trout in the Bitterroot River. Then leaving would about kill him.
He would stay to get in the well, and then he’d go, imparting his best advice to Hay about managing the land. And he’d give them his blessing and best wishes, too, because they deserved them. But it would be a good long time before he came back to these parts again. He’d be sure of it.
* * * *
“That was a mighty fine supper, Regan.” Hay sat on the porch railing and took a cigar from his jacket pocket.
“Thank you, but you killed the rabbit and fricasseed it, too. My vegetables were mere sidelines. I’m impressed at your culinary talents,” she said, watching Hay’s afterdinner ritual.
He squeezed the cigar gently then used a cutter to snip the head. Running the length of rolled leaves under his nose to inhale the tobacco, he put away the cutter and removed a pack of matches. Holding the cigar slightly above the flame, he rotated it while drawing smoke. When the tip glowed red, fragrant cigar smoke blended with Seth’s pipe smoke.
Her daddy smoked cigars each evening, the signal to the end of the day unless other men joined him in his study. Sometimes afterwards, smoke filled the room such that she couldn’t see from one wall to the other. She always liked pipe smoke better, but tonight Hay’s cigar brought a sharp homesickness. Possibly because she was about to step into an abyss, she grasped at anything that felt familiar.
“But you provided the lovely companionship that made the meal special.”
She smiled. Hay always knew the right thing to say.
“Now,” he said, thick smoke encircling his head, “I want to ask you something outright.”
“Haywood.” Seth started to rise, but Hay waved him back down. Regan’s heart filled her throat. Had Seth told Hay about that afternoon’s trip into town, specifically their stop along the way? How embarrassing! And yet, his doing so would free her from the same task.
“Go ahead, Hay,” Regan said, quaking inside.
“I think our Seth loves you.”
“Goddamn it!” This time Seth rose. His arm fell to his side, his hand fisted around his pipe bowl. The glare of pure anger he shot Hay couldn’t be mistaken even in the moonlight. She wished she could soothe him, give him some peace to lighten the intensity always simmering below the surface.
“I love Seth, too.”
“What?” Seth turned to her, looking dumbstruck. “How could you possibly love me? I mean…” He stopped, took a deep breath. “Did you or did you not this afternoon tell me in so many words that you’ve been thinking a lot about Hay?”
“I did, and I have been. I love Hay, too, Shakespeare and all.”
Seth’s mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, like a fish trying to get air. Hay took another pull on his cigar and blew the smoke into the night without meeting her eyes.
She chanced a look at Seth. His left elbow crooked out to the side. If not for a quirk of fate, his left hand would have been planted firmly on his hip, just as his right hand was. The poor man appeared confused and furious at the same time.
“You mean you think you’re in love with both of us?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible.”
“Obviously not.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m a grown woman, Seth Pratt, and know very well what I’m talking about. I have an opportunity few women have. Two virile, wonderful men happen to be living with me on a farm quite a distance from anywhere. They’re both good men—as each has taken pains to tell me about the other—and I find myself attracted to both. I want both. Indeed, at night I find myself dreaming scandalous scenarios where each of you tantalizes me in ways I can hardly imagine. I need—”
“I can’t listen to more of this,” Seth said and stormed off the porch and into the darkness.
The door to the bunkhouse slammed before Hay spoke. “Are you certain of this, Regan?”
She strolled to the porch railing, a mere foot from where he sat, and leaned against the post. “As sure as anyone can be of anything, yes. Seth is a man beyond compare. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known with a good heart and desire to protect. I love your humor, your kindness, and willingness to help. I see you watching out for Seth and know you’re decent and honorable. How could any woman not love you?”
He grinned. “I’ve wondered that myself a few times.” Then he turned somber. “But this is different. Loving two men, well, it’s just not done.”
“Not in our circle, you mean?”
“Not in any circles. If this becomes known, there will be trouble for you, and that’s the last thing either Seth or I want. I know he cares for you. I should go.”
She grasped his arm, cold at the thought of his desertion and just as frightened that Seth might think to do the same. “Please don’t. And don’t let him leave, either. At the very least I feel we need to discuss this.” Dropping her hand, she asked, “Do you care for me at all? Or have I destroyed even our friendship with my confession?”
“‘O, how this spring of love resembleth / The uncertain glory of an April day / Which now shows all the beauty of the sun / And by and by a cloud takes all away.’” Hay took her hand. Tossing his cigar to the ground, he tugged her into his arms. “Dearest Regan, I’ve come to care for you much more than I should, knowing my best friend’s heart already staked a claim. I can’t help but worry that trouble looms ahead.”
“We won’t let the clouds take away the beauty of the sun,” she said, clinging to him. “We’ll make a world for the three of us. I don’t know how I can stand losing either of you.”
His lips brushed hers with a gentleness that touched and surprised her. Seth’s kiss had been full of fire and fury, but Hay’s lifted her into the ether on fairy wings. Both set her heart racing.
His tongue traced her mouth, requesting permission to enter. She opened, and he explored with a tickle rather than the fierce control Seth exhibited. She touched her tongue to his, and his arms tightened. Still he maintained a lightness that made her head spin. Too soon he set her away from him. Finding her feet took her seconds longer.
“I’d better go and talk to Seth. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we are remote enough to make a home for all of us. I will state this here and now, though. I’ve had a first taste of you. If it turns out one of us has to go, I won’t be volunteering again for the duty.”
Chapter Six
“I don’t understand any of this,” Seth said. “And what has me worried more than anything is, I’m more intrigued by the prospect of one woman loving two men than I am horrified by it.”
“Why don’t you for once try speaking your mind to another person instead of to that damn horse?”
Hay entered the barn and strode to where Seth brushed Koda. A good grooming wasn’t necessary since the horse hadn’t traveled from the barn and paddock that day, but as usual, Seth found comfort in the work, and in pouring out his thoughts to the impartial animal.
“Better talking to a horse than a jackass.”
“Who’s a jackass?”
“You are if you came to tell me anything other than the woman’s crazy and you’re goin’ to hightail it outta here.”
“Crap. You’d like it if I was the one to leave, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes!” Seth stopped, startled at his own admission. Would it really make a difference if Hay left, or would he follow his friend down the trail, wary of Regan’s proclamation and nervous of his own attraction to it? Skedaddle to the coast was what he would do if he had good sense, but dark desire held him there as though his feet were ankle-deep in river mud.
Hay gave a tight smile. “I know. I want you to leave, too.” He raked his hand through his hair, a gesture Se
th had never seen him use, not even at his most flummoxed. “Or…” Hand pressing against the crown of his head, Hay cast Seth a speculative look. “We could listen to Regan and see if there’s any way to consider it.”
“You love her.”
Slowly Hay nodded. “Maybe. I at least care for her. Not that I ever intended it. The feeling kind of snuck up on me.”
Seth stroked Koda’s neck, staring off into nothing. “There’s something about her. I noticed it when we met. The hair on my neck stood up, like when lightning strikes too close on the prairie. I had to make myself turn away, focus just on her husband.”
“I remember when you met Stone about his horse. You said his wife was with him, and that was all. To me, it was obvious you were impressed. Seems you affected her the same way.”
Seth came back to himself. Storing the brush, he turned to stare at Hay. “So what? That and a penny buys me a plug of pipe tobacco.”
Hay’s face took on an animated expression. “Don’t you understand? Have you even noticed where we are?”
Frowning, Seth answered. “What the hell fool kind of question is that? Oregon.”
Hay urged him on with a coaxing hand gesture. “And how far from any town?”
“A ways.” His breath came a little faster. Did Hay feel the same flutter of excitement, the anticipation that something stupendous waited right around the bend?
“Right. We’re in the middle of nowhere, on a trail that few even know is here, much less use, virtually surrounded by property Regan owns. Hell, if we need more land, I’ll buy it. The only people likely to come out here are those looking for one of us, and them we can deal with. Here we are, two of the luckiest sons of bitches in the world, with a woman who wants us—both of us.”
Seth had to will his heart to slow. Half of him knew his Bible-toting grandfather would have skinned him alive if he’d ever suggested three people do what Hay was encouraging. He’d skin Hay, too, for leading his grandson into perdition. The other half of him wanted to run, not walk, up to the cabin, and claim Regan as theirs. His right hand fisted and flexed, fighting the internal battle. When he spoke, his grandfather’s words came out. “It’s not right.”
Regan [The Sisters O'Ryan 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 6