Fiona had never considered herself to be attractive, but until today she’d never made a man flee for his life at the sight of her half-naked body.
Ethan was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. He saddled his sorrel with a vengeance as he told himself over and over again to forget about Fiona Carmichael. She was not meant to be his, nor did he have any right to ogle her as though she were a fancy girl at the brothel.
The truth was, his body had hardened instantly and completely at the sight. She was exquisite, curved and luscious. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, plunge himself into her.
Pure madness had overtaken him. That was the only explanation. She had put something in the coffee or biscuits to make him lose all sense of reason. He was the even-tempered Malloy, the peacemaker who calmed the rambunctious family when they got after each other.
Now he found himself literally running from a woman who set him on his ear. He wasn’t the type to overreact or to create a difficult situation from nothing. However, he’d done both. In front of a stranger.
It was embarrassing, just as it had been the entire time he’d been in her company. He had to make things right for her. To do so, he had to retrieve the carriage from Jack. Ethan knew his brother hadn’t had the time to rebuild the bench in the carriage, which meant the ride from Ethan’s house to the Petersens’ would be awkward in more than one way.
He leaned his forehead against the horse’s flank while he tried to find some sense of calm. Jack would know something was wrong. If Ethan was lucky, they were all at his parents’ house and no one would see him in this state. Hell, Ethan would never hear the end of it if any of his siblings knew just how much Fiona had affected him. There was no help for it, though. He had to get the carriage.
There was no other choice.
Fiona sat in her damp clothes by the fire and wished them dry. The heavy wool had been a castaway donated to the orphanage, and, fortunately for her, she had been the only one big enough to wear it since she’d become the housekeeper after a few failed attempts outside the facility. The fine material had lasted for ten years and would for quite some time if she took good care of it.
She moved to allow her right side to face the fire. It had been two hours since Ethan had left, and she wondered if he’d even return. Darkness was approaching and there was no way she could make it to the Petersens’ today. He’d said something about a carriage and disappeared.
The taste of failure sat on her tongue, bitter and unpleasant. The day had been a disaster since she’d arrived on the train to find no one waiting to meet her. Renting the gig had been another brilliant idea, which had used the last of her funds, and now she would be in debt for the cost of the equipment, not to mention the horse.
She stared into the flames glumly. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse unless Mr. Petersen decided to fire her before she had a chance to start the job.
Fiona sank further into the chair and sighed. Wyoming was supposed to be a fresh start, a place for her to have a future other than cooking and cleaning for orphans. Not that she had that job to return to since she’d lost the last job she’d gotten. Even the orphanage had closed months ago, so she couldn’t return there again to work. Living off the charity of others had been difficult, and finding this position in Wyoming had been a godsend.
Now it could be all gone.
She ran through the stories in her head of what to say to Mr. Petersen to explain her delay and how she stayed hours at a widower’s house without another person present. Not that a thirty-year-old woman needed a chaperone, but there were proprieties observed by most polite society. Fiona was painfully aware of the consequences of ignoring those proprieties. No matter what, she couldn’t allow the fact Ethan had seen her nearly naked be public knowledge. It had been temporary madness. That was all.
The jangling of a horse’s bridle sounded from outside. She hopped to her feet and ran to the door, flinging it open. The shadows cloaked much of the yard, but the light from the house illuminated a horse and carriage stopping. Relief washed through her when Ethan jumped down from the conveyance.
She wanted to shout at him, rail at his abandonment, but she held her tongue and waited. Fiona wasn’t even a guest in his home, more of an interloper. She had no right to be angry with him even if she was. He nodded at her and led the horse into the barn without a word.
Some days, Fiona wished she didn’t have a temper, but she did, and right about then, it was flaring to life. Like to a bonfire. A raging one.
She yanked on her heavy cloak and boots and stomped outside in search of the odd and absent Ethan Malloy. The door to the large barn was open. The wood was weathered but obviously well maintained. Fiona entered the barn with a full head of steam, ready to flay the skin off the man who had disappeared for hours.
Fiona opened her mouth. “Where have you be—”
The words died on her tongue as she beheld the invalid chair he was currently fitting into the carriage. His expression was one of infinite sadness. He glanced at her and continued with his task.
Her temper disappeared in an instant. “What are you doing?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “You need to get to the Petersens’. The only available rig is this one. My brother Jack had it fitted for this invalid chair. He was supposed to put a new seat in but hadn’t gotten to it.”
Fiona’s stomach bounced up, then down, then up again. The implication of what he’d done and what she had to do settled on her. The chair had obviously belonged to his wife, the one who had worn the beautiful necklace. Fiona knew she was gone, more than two years, and he’d obviously never had the carriage changed. Now he was putting his dead wife’s chair into the carriage and Fiona had to ride in the lap of a ghost, beside the man who had not recovered from losing her.
She could barely swallow. The situation between them had gone from strange but amusing to serious and heart-wrenching. Guilt swept over her while the falling temperature sent a chill through her body. Perhaps another storm brewed.
“I’m sorry, Ethan.”
He shrugged as he secured the chair with a strap. “Not your fault. I have no excuse for not having this done. Maybe you being here was the push I needed to get off my ass.”
She didn’t even blink at the cussing. He was allowed, in her estimation.
“We don’t have to go to the Petersens’ tonight. It will be full dark soon. The weather might turn again.” She would do just about anything not to ride in that chair.
“It’s clear to the west, so I doubt there’ll be any more snow.” He cinched the last strap.
Fiona stared helplessly. What was she going to do? Tell him she wouldn’t accept his assistance or hospitality? That was ridiculous to even contemplate. The situation had gotten out of hand, and there needed to be a solution all of them could live with. She wasn’t convinced the snow wouldn’t return either. The situation was untenable, but she was stuck. Again.
“Then I’ll stay here until morning.”
His head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Pardon?”
“You said yourself earlier, it would be foolish to set off for the Petersens’ now. I’m a grown woman, not a young girl who needs a chaperone.” Now that she’d said it aloud, the truth of the words sank in. It was the right thing to do. She was sure of it.
“If Petersen knows you spent the night alone with me, you might lose your position.” He scowled, his gaze concerned.
She was inordinately touched by the fact this stranger, a man who had accepted her invasion of his home, was worried about her. Her throat grew tight. She swallowed, twice, before she could speak. Her voice was husky with unfamiliar emotion.
“Thank you, Mr. Mall—Ethan.” She turned to return to the house, unable to look at his handsome face any longer. She only waited a few seconds before she heard him jump off the carriage and run to catch up to her.
“I don’t agree with that choice. I wouldn’t have endured my brother Jack’s tea
sing and his young’uns using me for riding practice if I wasn’t gonna use this carriage. I was hoping they’d be at my parents’, but no such luck.” Now it appeared the concern had vanished, only to be replaced by annoyance.
“I didn’t ask you to go to your brother Jack’s house, and I damn well didn’t tell his children to use you as a horse.” The image of that made her smile, even if her stomach was tied in a Gordian knot.
“They’re dangerous no matter when you get to the house. He and Rebecca have some hellions.” He huffed out an impatient breath. “He’ll probably appear before the damn sun, poking his nose in on my business. I wouldn’t be surprised if he brought my brothers with him.”
Fiona was charmed by his description of his family. Underneath the words, she heard a deep well of love. He obviously cared a great deal for his brothers. From the gossip she’d heard in town while waiting for Mr. Petersen, who did not appear, the Malloys were well known in the area. The patriarch was also respected for his work with horses, his stock considered one of the best in the state.
Oh, how she envied that. It would be all too easy to fall into a pit of despair over her lack of family or prospects. That would accomplish nothing. Fiona was a fighter, not a whiner. She would make the most of the situation, come hell or high water.
Chapter Four
Ethan spent an inordinate amount of time in the barn after Fiona went back into the house. To stay. To stay the night.
Panic raced through him, and he felt like a sixteen-year-old boy who hadn’t learned how to kiss a girl yet. Not that there would be kissing. No sir. He had no intention of touching Fiona at all, not even her hand. Ethan brushed his horse until the gelding tried to nip him, as if to say “Enough! I want to keep some of my hide!”
Ethan gave the horse an extra scoop of feed for enduring the exceptionally long grooming session. He patted the horse’s flank. “Sorry, boy. I guess I’m just a coward.”
The equine had no answer other than to stuff his nose farther into the feed bucket.
After securing the stall door, Ethan turned to find the specter of the carriage, steps away. He had forgotten about it for a short amount of time. Now the sight of it slammed into him like a gut punch. He would have done anything for Bonita, had done everything he could think of, including hacking up the carriage to fit her invalid chair.
Now all that was left was his self-pity and the damned carriage. Touching the chair had been hard enough, but to know he had to touch it again made him angry. It was a foolish solution and Fiona was right to refuse to ride in the monstrosity. It was something he should be ashamed of. Letting his own grief overshadow living his life. Hell, he was forty-three years old and a widower. He had no excuse.
After the situation with Fiona was over, he would go see his sister-in-law Alex, who happened to be the town doctor, and give her the invalid chair. Someone ought to get use out of it. He couldn’t keep wallowing in his past. Fiona had quite literally yanked him into the present.
He walked back to the house and stopped outside the door, hand on the knob. Ethan was about to spend the night with a woman again. Not in bed with her, but just her presence had already affected him. What would it be like in the morning between them? He’d never counted himself as a coward, but damned if his gut didn’t tighten at the thought of walking inside.
Then he heard her singing.
She had the voice of an angel, sweet and soothing. He didn’t know the song but it sounded like a lullaby. He pressed his hand against the door and an ache welled inside him. His throat grew thick with the need to be with another human being, to connect with someone other than his family.
Ethan forced himself to walk inside. He stomped off the snow, taking his time hanging up his coat and hat, then sat down to pull off his boots. Stepping around the puddles from the melting snow, he made his way to the kitchen.
The smell of real food permeated the air. He sniffed deep and his mouth watered.
“What are you making?” He found her at the stove, stirring a pot, wearing an apron he didn’t recognize. The heat from the stove had made her hair curl all the more. It stood like a halo around her heart-shaped face. She smiled at him and his mood lightened considerably. From what she’d told him, Fiona had endured quite a bit in her life. Maintaining her positivity in the face of adversity humbled him. She was a hell of a woman.
“I found some dried beef, onions, turnips and carrots, so I threw them in a pot of water and made beef stew. I wish I had a few more vegetables, but I think this’ll do us fine tonight.” She wiped her hands on the apron and pointed. “I put the leftover biscuits on the table.”
Ethan had eaten many times at his mother’s table or his brothers’ houses, but it had been many years since he ate a real meal at his own table. That sad fact made up his mind. He would enjoy the evening and the company.
The next few minutes were quiet, with both of them preparing for the meal. It was a comfortable silence, to his surprise.
When they sat down to eat, Fiona dug in with gusto, eating a fair share of the stew. Ethan’s appetite was just as fierce, and he met her spoonful for spoonful, sopping up the rich juice with the delicious biscuits.
“This is amazing,” he said around the biscuit in his mouth.
“Thank you.” He thought she might have spoken while chewing, which he found charming and refreshing.
A laugh bubbled up in his throat, which burst forth after he swallowed. She looked startled, and then a small grin played around her mouth.
“You are not like any of the women I know.”
She frowned. “I’m not certain if I’m insulted or not.”
“Not. Most women I know hold no interest for me.”
This time she appeared startled. “I interest you?”
How much to tell her? Ethan was alive. Whether he was annoyed or amused, the pulse of life flowed through him again. It was amazing. Astonishing.
“Much as I think I should deny it, I can’t.” Ethan could hardly believe he’d said that aloud.
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed and she turned her attention back to the bowl, almost sticking her nose in the food. He figured he had his answer on whether she saw him as a man or as the owner of a house she took refuge in.
They ate the rest of the meal in awkward silence, a ridiculous contrast to the fun they’d had the first half. Perhaps Ethan shouldn’t have said anything, but Malloys tended to speak what was on their minds. He usually didn’t muck things up so badly. At least not so fast.
She swiped up the dishes as soon as the meal was done and went straight to the sink. He sat at the table and watched her rigid back. Ethan was the type of person who didn’t get ruffled, but damned if Fiona hadn’t ruffled him. It appeared he had ruffled her too.
“I’ll sleep by the fire. You can take the bedroom.” He got to his feet. “I’ll change the linens.”
He didn’t wait for a response. What could she say anyway? In the morning he’d see her to the Petersens’ ranch and that would be that. No matter what happened with the necklace or the snowstorm, they were apparently not meant to go beyond strangers.
He ignored the pang of disappointment and left the room.
Fiona stared at the closed door in the bedroom she’d been given. The absolute quiet of the Wyoming night was not lost on her. She’d been traveling on a train for so long, she’d forgotten what silence sounded like. It was comforting in a way. She’d lived in a city most of her life, but Raleigh wasn’t enormous. However, there were usually horses, wagons and folks out and about, particularly in the neighborhood the orphanage had called home.
She looked out the window, another luxury she hadn’t expected. The sky had cleared, displaying an impressive array of stars, more than she’d ever seen. They sparkled against the black velvet. Fiona liked to think the stars were souls, keeping an eye on those folks struggling on earth below them. Perhaps Ethan was right and Bonita’s star had come to show the way to this little house.
Or maybe Fiona was exhau
sted but too keyed up to sleep.
She was lying in Ethan’s bed. That fact alone kept her awake. She’d spent most of her childhood sharing a bed and having extra body heat from the other children, or crammed into a rooming house with strangers. The only human within spitting distance was Ethan, and she surely couldn’t invite him to her bed. Or rather, his bed.
Her mind twirled with the possibilities of what would happen if he did share the covers with her. At that salacious thought, Fiona sucked in a breath as her body created its own heat. Of their own volition, her nipples puckered beneath the borrowed shirt she wore. Her drawers grew damp with moisture.
What in the world? She knew about procreation and how humans mated, as most children raised in an orphanage did. Children talked, many of whom were born from illicit affairs or whose mothers were soiled doves. The education she had received was extraordinary and all talk. Truth was, she was innocent. But how was it her body reacted when he wasn’t in the room with her? What did that make her, a hussy? Fiona choked back a snort at the thought. She was unattractive and loudmouthed and, worst of all, a redhead. There wasn’t a man alive who would take her up on an offer. Hell, Ethan had run from the room when he’d caught her in her underthings.
And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like—to share a bed with someone who wasn’t a tiny, wiry body that stole more warmth than she gave. To share a bed with Ethan.
The fire in the other room popped, the sound loud in the quiet cabin. The bedroom door was open to allow the heat into the room. She wondered if he slept or if he lay awake plotting how to get rid of her as quickly as possible.
Fiona threw back the covers and shivered as the cold air hit her. She only wanted to warm up by the fire for a moment. Yes, that was a likely excuse, if pitiful. She crept out into the main part of the cabin and stopped in midstep. Ethan was awake, his arms crossed and his eyes dark pools in the shadows of the room. The firelight danced across his features.
The Present: The Malloy Family, Book 8.5 Page 3