Driscoll's Daughter
Page 8
“I’ll call my lawyer.”
“No, no written agreements, no lawyers. Just a gentleman’s word."
“Just a gentleman’s word,” Seth repeated. “I certainly have been one.” He clapped the battered Stetson on his head, adjusted it, tilting the brim slightly at an angle. “Lee, if that’s all, I’ve got a horse ranch to tend to.” He sounded weary. “Move in when you like.” Halfway out of the study, he turned. A corner of his mouth went up and an almost humorous expression entered his eyes. “Coincidentally, my housekeeper is leaving at the end of the week. Her son is returning from a stint in the Army. Want to give the job a try?”
Leatrice practically glowed. “Yes, yes I do.”
“Can you cook?”
“I studied in Paris.”
“I should have guessed,” he said. “Well, leave the expensive dresses and jewelry at the Bar LB and bring some work clothes. You’ll need them.” He turned and walked out of the study.
Leatrice listened to the clack of his boots as he crossed the foyer and went out the front door. She strode to the French doors and focused on the mountains Seth watched. They reminded her of her favorite candy, Snowcaps. She felt cold and hugged herself. Who was she after all, to be playing with Seth’s life? What pompous arrogance gave her the right to imagine she could win him over, body and soul, by her mere presence in his home? The glass panes in front of her glinted with sunlight. The pale golden rays touched her diamonded earrings and cuff links causing them to shimmer and sparkle. She felt even colder, and shuddered, not knowing what the future held. She wanted Seth to accept her; she wanted the right to spend the rest of her life at his side.
Driscoll's Lady
by Paula Freda
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