“Well, are you?” Beans repeated.
Snapping her attention back to the cook, she offered, “I most certainly can give you the recipe, but I’m afraid I only have enough bananas for a few more loaves.”
“What are bananas anyway? I’ve never heard of them.”
Angel stepped in then—bless her heart—handing Beans one of the deteriorating bananas. The girl set in telling the cook all about Ellis’s purchase and how they’d been cooking up experiments ever since he’d brought the bags home. Constance, thankful for a moment to gather her wits, moved to the sink, where she’d been rinsing out the pans for the next batch she planned on making as soon as Ellis finished his meal. She’d baked long after the sun went down yesterday and started again as soon as it rose this morning. When Thomas had entered the house to set the morning fires, she’d recommended he take a few loaves to the bunkhouse, never imagining Beans would be so upset by her actions.
Then again, she’d never anticipated she’d be so affected by Ellis’s actions, either. She gripped the edge of the sink. Goodness, it appeared she had a lifetime of learning to do in a very short time. The rapid beats of her heart had yet to slow, and her fingers trembled so hard she didn’t dare pick up a dish for fear of dropping it.
The conversation around the table soon included the timbre of Ellis’s voice, and somehow the sound had a calming effect. Her pulse slowed and, drawing on the relief, she set about her chores. When the dishes were done, including Ellis’s plate that Angel had carried over, Constance moved to the washroom beneath the back staircase. The space was surprisingly large and not only held the large brass bathing tub, it also hosted two wooden washtubs. A thin rope had been stretched from one wall to the other, creating the ideal setup for winter clothes washing. The amenities of the house had amazed her at first, but as time went on, the thoughtful and careful planning had given her appreciation for those who had constructed it.
Ellis had tidied up after bathing, all she needed to do was hang the towel a bit straighter and reposition the stool along the wall. Still feeling the urge to stay busy while the men talked, she slipped from the room and glided up the back stairs.
She’d stripped his bed and was tucking the edges of clean sheets beneath the down mattress when her nerve endings tapped. Smoothing the sheet, she turned to the open doorway. Once again, Ellis’s gaze had her pondering how deeply he could see into her soul. For that’s where her thoughts were—remembering the kiss. Their kiss.
Her heart landed in her throat as he moved into the room and picked up the quilt she’d set on the chair before removing the sheets from his bed.
“I thought—” She paused for a moment to get control of her thick tongue. “Your bedding needed to be changed after the fever.”
Without answering he flayed the quilt across the bed from the other side. She caught the edge and together they tucked in the bottom and smoothed out the top. It was a thick patchwork covering made of dark browns and deep reds. Her fingers caressed the squares, feeling the cords of the twills and the softness of the flannels as her mind and heart tumbled. She’d jeopardized her chances of staying here with a foolish, impulsive act.
“I hadn’t realized I slept almost two days until Beans informed me,” Ellis said.
Jarred to attention, she nodded. “You needed it. That’s how the body heals.” Having already replaced the covers on the pillows, she retrieved them and positioned each one across the top of the bed. Fearful of the silence, she added, “But it wasn’t quite two days. It’s only a little after noon now.”
“I slept all day yesterday and half of today,” he disputed.
The mockery in his tone had her glancing up.
A smile sat on his lips. It was a delightful sight—had her heart dancing against her rib cage.
“That’s two days,” he explained.
The urge to smile had her bowing her head. It was rather remarkable how he made her see the humor in situations. Almost as if he found joy in the simple things in life and wanted others to, too. She gave her head a quick shake. “I suppose you could say it was two days.”
“You suppose?”
“I suppose.” She gathered the heap of sheets off the floor and escaped to the door.
“Constance.”
Her feet stalled near the room’s entrance. The wood beneath her boots was smooth, and the thick shimmering varnish kept her eyes busy. “Yes?” she answered without turning around.
“I— Could we talk for a few minutes? I have something to tell you.”
Like a nightmare in the depths of sleep, the image of the envelope on his office desk leaped before her eyes. She closed her eyelids, as if that could make it disappear. He not only had a reason to send her away, he had a destination. “Certainly,” she agreed. “I just have to put these sheets downstairs.”
“In my office then? In five minutes or so?”
She nodded and left the room before the nightmare had her afraid to move. By the time she’d disposed of the bedding and taken a moment to smooth the hair from her face, she was in no better condition. Beads of sweat covered her palms. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she willed all of the reasoning she’d gone over a hundred times to come forth so she’d have the wherewithal to convince Ellis he must fulfill his end of their bargain. Of course she’d come up with all of those reasons before he’d taken ill. She couldn’t tell him about Byron, either, not after that kiss.
A sneak peek proved Angel was nose-down in a book in the front parlor. Back straight, namely due to the nerves twisted around her spine, Constance treaded down the hall and tapped on the office door.
It opened immediately. Without a word, Ellis waved a hand, indicating the empty chairs. She’d boarded a ship to sail across the ocean with less trepidation than what ate at her insides right now. A sea squall had been less threatening than leaving—or being sent away.
The first place her eyes went was to the desk top. No envelope decorated the space. It had been there this morning. She’d poked her head in while Thomas was building the fire. Her arrival at the closest chair was timely, for her legs no longer wanted to hold her upright. Sitting down, she was thankful her spine didn’t give out. Back stiff against the chair, she folded her hands in her lap, and drew Angel’s welfare forward in her mind.
Ellis sat behind his desk, the mantel clock ticking away reminded her of another night when they’d sat as such. She’d grown since then. In the few days since her arrival she’d had the time to contemplate her wants instead of her survival. That hadn’t happened since burying her aunts. Perhaps before then even.
“The banana bread is very good.” Ellis broke the deafening silence.
“Thank you,” she responded, holding her breath at the way her heart skipped a beat.
“Angel said you’re going to set it outside to freeze.”
Ellis was not one for small talk, he had proven that before, but she was more than agreeable to avoid other topics. “I hope that will preserve it, so we don’t have to eat it all at once.”
“I have an old ice box in the spring house. I’ll bring it up to the porch. That should keep the bread safe from anything that comes sniffing around.”
His approval of her plan touched her more than surprised her. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Thank you.”
“That bread—it was good thinking on your part. A good way to use up those bananas.”
There was pride in his voice, just as she’d wanted. Excitement chased away a portion of her anxiety, but increased the other—more intense—sensations swirling in her veins. “Yes, well, I still have a few more batches to make. The bananas are aging quickly.”
The sparkle in his eyes was enchanting, making her want to smile in return. “I think they were reasonably aged when I bought them,” he said.
She nodded, attempting to hide her grin. “I believe so.”
His chair creaked as he leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “I’m going to enjoy telling Link how tasty they were.”
<
br /> Her heart soared. “You will?”
“Oh, yes.” He leaned forward, placing both elbows on his desk. “I’m also grateful for the difference I’m seeing in Angel. I noticed she’s in the parlor, reading.” His brows lifted.
“Little Women,” Constance answered.
He shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve read that one.”
“I wouldn’t imagine you have.” The thought of him reading the tale about the March girls brought her smile out. “But I assure you, I have, and it’s quite appropriate for Angel to be reading.”
“I’m sure it is. I don’t imagine you’d allow her to read something that wasn’t appropriate.”
She met his stare, wondering if there was more behind his words.
“I mean that truthfully, Constance. I have no doubt you only have the best intentions for Angel at heart.”
Pride, once again instilled by him, wafted over her chest. “Thank you. I appreciate your confidence. Angel is a delightful girl, and a joy to tutor.”
“I’ve also noticed the improvements in her appearance. You’ve done a remarkable job in a very short time.”
“She’s an apt student,” Constance insisted.
“The manners may take a while. I hope you won’t get discouraged.”
The smirk on his face said he knew how trying his daughter was, as well as how much he loved Angel’s independence. “I won’t, but you’re right, it may take a while.” They shared a laugh, just a small one, but subtle enough to have her heartbeat increasing. “She really is a good person at heart,” Constance assured.
“I agree with you.” Ellis reached to the edge of his desk and pulled a piece of paper forward. “I’m glad you came along when you did. I may have been a bit hesitant a few days ago, but I’ve already seen the difference you’re making, so I’d like to confirm our agreement.”
“You would?” The words were out before she could stop them.
“You sound surprised.”
Her insides were snapping like grease on a griddle. Before her was evidence that snooping was ill-fated. Rarely did it turn out to be beneficial. The envelope that had been on his desk must have had nothing to do with her, and yet, she’d anticipated it did, and therefore caused herself nothing but grief. The bout of imprudent imagination now left her feeling foolish. Furthermore, her fears over him recalling her sitting beside his bed had been foolish as well. He clearly had no recollection of the kiss, which should increase her relief. But in an odd way, she was disappointed. She’d thought of little else, even dreamed of it last night. Chasing aside the thought as best she could, she answered, “Not necessarily surprised, but relieved perhaps.”
He rubbed a finger over his chin as if pondering deeply. Her insides ticked along with the clock, and she had to bite her lip to keep it from tingling with memories.
“Relieved?” he asked. “How so?”
The truth was out before she could contemplate it. “Because there truly is no place I’d rather spend the next six months than right here.”
His features grew soft and mellow, sending her insides into a frenzy, and making her words echo through her head. “Mr. Clayton,” she started, searching for a way to clarify her answer. It was the truth, but sounded so forward. So revealing.
“Constance,” Ellis interrupted. Her answer had his pulse racing, and the blush on her cheeks had him wanting to move out of his chair and fold his arms around her. She pinched her lips together, which had an unsettling effect on his. Once again they acted as if the kiss hadn’t been a dream. “If we’re going to be living together for the next six months,” he said, thankful his mind still worked, “I’d appreciate if you called me Ellis.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach, and bowed her head.
He’d called her in to his office to tell her about the will Hempel had, but the thought of her moving out to Ashton’s was nauseating. She’d be in too much danger. There were simply too many things that could go wrong. “Angel,” he said, drawing his daughter’s needs forward was his saving grace. “Angel is used to a less formal environment, and we must both do everything we can to aid her education. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Ellis,” he added, wanting to hear her say his name.
“Ellis,” she repeated.
It was ridiculous for a grown man to experience such joy from someone simply saying his name, Ellis knew that. Yet the wave rippling over him was like nothing he’d ever known. More so, it gave him an excitement for the future he hadn’t had for years. Her cobalt-blue eyes met his, and the glimmer in them increased his enthusiasm for life tenfold. Sent his heart somersaulting, and other parts of his body heating up.
Her cheeks grew rosier, but she didn’t pull her gaze away. Neither did he. The world seemed to go quiet; he heard nothing but the soft sound of her breathing and the thudding of his heart pulsing against his eardrums. It hadn’t been a dream. He’d felt those lips on his, tasted their sweetness. And he wanted to do so again.
She gasped slightly, he heard it, and it made him pull his eyes from hers. Catching his breath was difficult. When he finally did, he picked up the piece of paper in front of him. “I—ah—I came up with an amount I hope you’ll agree is fair.”
The paper fluttered as she took it. “That’s more than agreeable.” She sounded as breathless as he felt.
“I left the time span open. Hard to say how long it’ll take—teaching Angel manners.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, which merely increased the thudding in his chest. When the silence lasted as long as he could take, he asked, “Do you have anything you want to add?”
She shook her head. “Would you pass me the ink,” she asked as she set the paper down, “so I can sign it?”
Mind whirling, Ellis flexed his fingers before reaching for the inkwell. He had to tell her about Ashton’s will before she signed the agreement. It was only fair. Perhaps it all could wait until tomorrow, when his thinking was clearer. Right now he couldn’t distinguish between dreams and reality. Whether that was true or not, never before had he withheld information from someone, especially not information that could hold a bearing on their decision-making. It was as if he were becoming a different person. Still Ellis Clayton, ranch owner, father, widower. The shiver rippling him from head to toe had him leaping to his feet.
“There’s no need to sign it.” Moving toward the door, he added, “I have to get out to the barn.”
Chapter Nine
Ellis brushed the snow from his coat sleeves and stomped his boots before entering the house. The welcoming heat of the kitchen was a wonderful reprieve from the blizzard once again blanketing the ground. In the three weeks Constance had been at the ranch, it had snowed almost continuously. He pulled his hat from his head, and his heart started to drum as he wondered when he’d started marking time by her arrival. Seems lately everything he referred to was either before Constance arrived or after.
“Here, I’ll take that,” she said, holding her hand out. “You take your stuff off.” She frowned at the snow caked around his ankles. “Or do you have to go back out?”
“Thanks.” He gave her the hat, watching as she spun to hang it on one of the hooks beside the closed door. Her breasts strained against the material of her dress, and the chill the weather had instilled in his loins was instantly replaced by a bolt of heat. “No, I don’t have to go back out. What can be done in weather like this is done.”
She took his coat as he shrugged out of it, hanging it beside his hat while he sat down on the chair below the hooks to remove his boots, focusing his gaze on the rug that had been placed under the chair to catch the water that formed as the snow melted.
Graceful as always, she moved from his side, walking to the stove where the coffeepot perked merrily. He couldn’t help but wonder, in moments like this, how things had been before she’d come to live here. He and Angel had gotten along fine, never missing the little things like rugs and coffee already made.
The
re was always a pot brewing in the bunkhouse, and he’d consumed gallons of the black brew over the years, but now he didn’t. When the chores were done, he headed straight for the house, knowing Constance would have some of her delicious coffee ready, along with a cookie or other such treat to warm his insides.
The routine had started the day she’d read their contract, legally binding her to stay at the ranch for the next six months. Maybe that was when he’d started counting the days, for it certainly had been when his mind had started badgering him for not telling her about Ashton’s will. Could it be guilt sending his pulse racing?
One boot hit the rug with a thud, and Constance glanced his way. He stood the boots side by side, and brushed at the snow still clinging to his pant legs. She turned back to the stove and his mind took off again. That had been the reason he’d called her into his office that day—to tell her about her inheritance. But it hadn’t happened. And in the weeks that followed, it still hadn’t.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe she had the right to know, he knew she did, but truth be told, he didn’t want her to leave. That, he told himself, trying to justify his thoughts, would break his daughter’s heart.
“Where’s Angel?” he asked, moving from the chair to the table.
“Where do you think Angel is?” Constance grinned, setting a plate holding a piece of chocolate cake on the table.
His blood was racing again, sent that way by her smile, or the way strands of hair fell from her bun, or just about anything else about her. “Reading?” he asked teasingly, while taking a seat.
“Yes.” She set a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. “Reading.”
A repartee had developed between them, a teasing banter of sorts, that he enjoyed and looked forward to each morning; the want to touch her, just brush his skin against hers, grew stronger every day. Every hour. Today, right now, it was too intense to ignore, and he caught her hand as it slipped off the mug. The warmth of her palm closed around his chilly fingers. Not willing to admit why he felt the need to touch her, yet not willing to let her go, he focused on their conversation. “Little Women again?”
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