by Kirst, Karen
“I can still beat you, Preston Williams, dress or no dress,” she retorted.
Cordelia frowned at that.
Landon Greene chose that moment to insert himself between Kenny and Preston. Taking Sophie’s hand, his lips grazed her knuckles.
Her aunt’s frown deepened.
“I had no idea that beneath the tomboy exterior existed a beauty more lovely than the rose, more stunning than the sunset, brighter than the biggest star,” he breathed, blue eyes twinkling with mischief, earning good-natured groans and plenty of eye-rolls.
Sophie didn’t have a chance to respond, because Nathan was suddenly there, his lean body hovering close. Staking his claim? But no. That was ridiculous.
“I think it’s time to leave, gentlemen.” His tone brooked no argument. “The lady’s dinner is long overdue.”
“As is mine,” the reverend, who was always the last to leave, chimed in good-naturedly from the back of the church.
Eyes narrowing at Nathan, Landon reluctantly let her go. He dipped his head in her direction. “I’ll see you soon, sweet Sophie.”
Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the twins, who flanked her on either side. “Come with us to Aunt Mary’s. We want to hear all the details.”
Sophie found herself swept along by her eager friends, leaving Nathan to wallow in his self-imposed temper.
* * *
“Did you see the crowd that descended on Sophie after the service?” Seated on one end of Sam and Mary’s sofa, Nicole looked up from the swath of material in her lap, needle hovering midair. “The men hovered like hungry bees. If not for Nathan’s interference, I doubt they would’ve let us leave.” Satisfaction brightened her expression.
Beside the massive stone fireplace, chessboard spread out between Nathan and herself, Sophie risked a glance at him. Perched on the chair across from her, elbows on his knees, he pondered his next move. Chess was their game. They were both good...and competitive, which meant the games would sometimes last for hours. As far as who was a better chess player, that hadn’t been determined yet. She and Nathan were equally matched.
He must have sensed her regard, for his enigmatic gaze lifted, zeroed in on her. That intense focus heated the surface of her skin, brought every nerve to prickly awareness, on edge and yearning for his touch. What was he thinking?
All the way home, all through dinner, he hadn’t uttered a word about her appearance. Not a single one. If she were honest, she’d admit his lack of reaction stung.
“I would say her transformation is a complete success.” Nicole practically purred.
“You outdid yourself with that dress, Nicole.” Kate lowered her copy of the New York Times sent to her by her parents. She smiled at her cousin-in-law. “The detail work is exquisite, the material choice inspired. Sophie, you look as if you stepped off the pages of Harper’s Bazaar.”
An heiress born and raised in the highest society circles in New York City, Kate knew fashion. Sophie shrugged. “Nicole is very talented.”
“True,” Kate agreed, “but it is you modeling her creation. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
“I agree.” Josh sat very close to his wife, an arm slung casually around her shoulders. He crossed his legs at the ankles. “What do you think, Nathan?”
Cheeks burning, Sophie couldn’t bring herself to look at him, watching instead his large hands, how they clenched and the knuckles went white. “I would say she hasn’t changed all that much.”
“Excuse me?” Nicole glared at him.
“How can you say that?” Mary, who’d just entered the room and was setting a plate of cookies on the coffee table, sounded personally affronted.
Sophie inwardly cringed. Of course. She’d known, hadn’t she, that a new look wouldn’t alter the way he viewed her.
Caleb surged up from his crouched position near the fireplace. “Time to get your eyes checked, brother,” he muttered on his way out of the room.
“She hasn’t changed,” Nathan drawled softly in the gathering silence, “because she’s always been beautiful, inside and out.”
Startled, Sophie’s gaze shot to his face. Surely she hadn’t heard right? And yet there, in the softening of his mouth, the flicker of a smile, she witnessed appreciation and approval. A giddy sort of joy infused her insides, warming her from the inside out.
Indicating the board, where he had no legal moves left, he said, “Stalemate.”
She stared. Very rarely did they call a draw. The game’s outcome was clear, however. Neither one of them was a clear winner.
Excusing himself, he left without another word.
“That was downright poetic.” Josh winked at Sophie.
“I thought it was sweet.” Kate sighed dreamily.
When Mary eyed Sophie with open speculation, she tried not to squirm.
Josh hopped up and assumed the seat his brother had vacated. “Finally, I get a chance to play Sophie.”
Smiling gratefully, she replaced the carved wooden pieces. It appeared rescuing females was an O’Malley family trait. The game with Josh didn’t last all that long. He didn’t play often, so his skills were rusty, and she quickly bested him.
He grinned, long fingers stroking his goatee. “I see I need some more practice if I’m ever going to beat you.”
“Thanks for the game, Josh.” Standing, she glanced out the windows. Will had been there earlier, romping in the grass with the family’s new puppy. “And thanks for the meal, Mary. Will and I need to be getting home.”
“Anytime, dear.”
Bidding everyone a good afternoon, she went outside. Will was nowhere in sight. After scanning the fields and outbuildings, she decided to check the barn. Sometimes he played in there if kittens were in residence.
Skirts lifted several inches off the ground, she entered the dusky interior and peered down the center aisle. “Will? Are you in here?”
A dark form separated itself from the shadows, feeble light from the entrance falling on a familiar charcoal-gray shirt. “He’s not here.”
So this is where Nathan had disappeared to. She advanced down the aisle, her pulse picking up speed. This was their first moment alone since that awful row in the lane. “Have you seen him? My aunt is paying us a visit later this afternoon. She expects him to be there.”
“No.” He met her halfway. Folding his arms across his chest, he studied her with hooded eyes. His short brown hair was rumpled from one too many finger-combings. “Your aunt seemed to approve of your new look.”
“Yes, well, I wish she hadn’t mentioned the marriage thing.”
His dark gaze roaming down the length of her felt like a caress. “How does it feel? Being all gussied up?”
Suppressing a shiver of want, she pressed a hand to the exposed flesh at the base of her neck. “Strange. Stiff. However, unlike the dress Kate lent me for the funeral, this one fits me like a glove. Nicole knows what she’s doing. I daresay I’ll get used to dressing like this eventually.”
“So no more braids?”
She smiled at the teasing hint in his husky voice. “Did I mention she came after me with scissors?”
His arms fell to his sides. “She cut your hair?”
Sophie smoothed a light hand over the side-sweep. Of all the changes his cousin had wrought, she liked her hair the best. The moment she’d spied her image in the looking glass, she’d been transported back in time to when her ma had still been alive. With her hair arranged like this, she resembled her.
“She whacked a good six inches off. I don’t mind, though.” She shrugged. “It’s easier to take care of.”
“Six inches,” he repeated, frowning.
Why was he acting as if it was a crime? As if her personal decisions affected him?
“You’ll be happy to kno
w I took your advice.” She forced a brightness into her attitude she didn’t feel. Sidestepping him, she moved to the stall where his horse, Chance, stood observing them with soft brown eyes.
“Oh, yeah? What advice is that?”
She stroked her fingers along his powerful neck, addressing the animal instead of the man. “I accepted an invitation from Frank Walters. He’s taking Will and me on a picnic tomorrow afternoon.”
Silence.
Sophie twisted around, wincing as her skirts caught on the wooden slats near her feet. She was going to have to be more careful. More aware of her movements if she didn’t want to destroy Nicole’s handiwork. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
Heaving a sigh, he kneaded his neck with impatient fingers. “I’m not so sure you should’ve listened to me. Frank’s a good man, but he’s a bit passive for the likes of you.”
“Are you insinuating I’m pushy?” She bristled. She wouldn’t mention the outing hadn’t been Frank’s idea. When they had happened upon him outside the church that morning, Nicole had cunningly maneuvered him into it.
“You’re a woman who knows her own mind.” He joined her at the stall, his arm brushing her shoulder. His body heat radiated outward, tugging at her. He was too handsome for words; his generous mouth wielding tempting memories. His gaze probed hers. “What you need, Soph, is a strong man. A partner, not a pushover.”
Are you volunteering? she almost blurted. Sliding her gaze away, she murmured, “I don’t have time to be choosy.”
“I don’t like this.”
“And you think I do?” she challenged.
“Can a man like Frank truly make you happy?”
No. No one except you will ever do.
She buried her fingers in Chance’s black mane. “If it weren’t for Cordelia’s meddling, I wouldn’t be contemplating marriage at all. I hate being forced into this, but I’ll do anything to keep Will with me. That will have to be enough.”
“I hope for both your sakes that it is.”
* * *
Frank Walters was a nice guy. Shy, but nice.
A year older than Nathan, he was six years her senior. And while they’d grown up in the same small town, they hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words. Sharing a meal with him was proving to be an awkward experience.
“This pie is delicious,” she told him between bites.
“My mother is an accomplished cook,” he said soberly. “I sampled your rhubarb pie before April discarded it. Mother would be happy to teach you how—” He broke off abruptly, looking pained. “I didn’t mean... That is, if you wanted her to.”
She set her empty plate beside the picnic basket. “That might be nice.” Inwardly, she grimaced. Bonnie Walters wore a perpetual expression of disdain. Nothing seemed to please her. Poor Frank. Perhaps he was searching for a reason to leave the home he shared with her?
Perspiration dampened the hair at her temples. The overhead shade did little to dispel the stifling August heat. Sophie adjusted her full peach skirt to make sure it covered her ankles, still finding it awkward to move and sit like a lady. When Frank had arrived at the cabin, he’d complimented her, saying the pastel hue made her skin luminous. Then his face had burned scarlet. Poor Frank.
He wasn’t one of those men who stood out in a crowd. Of average height, he had a pleasant face and wiry build, brown hair that tended to curl if he went too long between haircuts and warm brown eyes. He dressed like every other farmer in Gatlinburg, his clothes neat and pressed.
So he’s a decent guy. What will it be like to live with him? To prepare his meals and mend his clothes? To have children with him?
Sophie sucked in a sharp breath. For the first time since she hit upon the marriage idea, it hit her full-force what she was getting herself into. She looked at Frank. Really looked at him. At his mouth that would kiss hers, his hands that would hold hers. As his wife, she’d be expected to show him affection.
Sweat beaded her upper lip. The buttermilk pie churned in her stomach. She squeezed her eyes tight and focused on pulling grass-scented air into her nostrils.
Impulsive. Irrational. As usual, she’d seized on the solution to her problem without thinking it through. She’d been desperate for one. No doubt if Nathan had suggested joining the traveling circus, she would’ve packed their bags and hit the trail.
I can’t do this—
“Watch out!”
A ball bounced precariously close to their log cabin–patterned quilt and the food and drinks spread out across it. Will, face streaked with sweat and grass stains on his pant knees, darted over. “Sorry about that.”
Frank retrieved the ball from where it had rolled to a stop and tossed it to her brother. “No problem.”
As Will returned to the clover-dusted field rolling into the distance, Sophie reminded herself why she was here. You can do this. You have to. For Will’s sake.
First order of business? Get to know him.
“So, Frank, what do you like to do in your spare time?”
“Not much of that, as you know.” He frowned, running his thumbs along his suspenders. “The farm takes up most of my time and energy.”
“Yes, but surely there’re moments when you’re not working,” she persisted. “What do you do then?”
He thought for a moment. “Normally at the end of the day, I read the newspaper while Mother knits.”
Sounded...boring. Or restful, depending on which way you looked at it. Look for the positive, Soph.
“Do you like music?”
At the barn dances held throughout the community during spring and summer months, Frank mingled with the older men. He didn’t dance. Sophie didn’t, either, and not because she didn’t enjoy music. She did. But instead of risking being abandoned on the sidelines—who’d want to dance with the resident tomboy, anyway?—she insisted she was too self-conscious to dance.
“I learned how to play the banjo as a boy, but Mother doesn’t like noise.”
Irritation swelled at Bonnie Walters’s selfishness. It was Frank’s house, too. “Couldn’t you practice in the barn?” She smiled her encouragement. “I’m sure the animals wouldn’t mind.”
Frank looked at her in surprise. “The thought hadn’t occurred to me.” He scratched his head. “I suppose I could do that. My pa was the one who taught me. He was a fine banjo player.” The note of wistfulness in his voice touched a chord deep inside.
He must miss his pa like she missed her ma and granddad.
Roy Walters died many years ago when they were still kids. From what she remembered, he’d been as jolly as his wife was taciturn. Poor Frank. Was there any lightheartedness, any fun, in his life anymore? Or had Bonnie snuffed it all out?
“I have an idea. Why don’t you come over for supper one night this week and bring your banjo? You can play for us.”
His brows shot up. “You’re serious?”
“Yes, of course.” His barely suppressed excitement softened her heart to the consistency of warm molasses. Such a simple thing, this request, and yet it brought him to life like never before. “Please say you’ll come.”
A rare smile brightened his features. “I’d like that very much. Thank you, Sophie.”
Suddenly unable to speak, she nodded her reply. The way he was looking at her, as if she personally had a hand in hanging the moon and stars...well, no one had ever looked at her like that before. And it felt...wonderful.
If only Nathan—
No. Sophie resolutely shoved thoughts of him aside. She was going to have to come to terms with the fact that Nathan wouldn’t be playing a starring role in her life. Someone else would fill that role. Someone like Frank Walters.
Chapter Fourteen
The following morning Sophie was on her hands and knees in the dirt, tugging weeds
from between her pepper plants, when Philip Dennison rode onto her property. Strange. While she considered him a friend, he didn’t make a habit of coming ’round.
Standing, she dislodged the dirt from her pants and, wiping the sweat from her brow, strolled to the end of the row. When the red-haired young man dismounted, he tucked his thumbs in his waistband and openly inspected the cabin and surrounding land.
“Mornin’, Philip. Want to come inside for some lemonade?”
Finally his gaze got around to her. “No, thanks. I just came by to ask if you and Will wanna have lunch at our place on Sunday.”
This was a first. Philip’s parents didn’t approve of her. They assumed she took after her pa. That she’d inherited his wild streak and one day she’d inevitably follow in his footsteps. “Uh, sure, I suppose we could do that.”
“Great.” His hazel eyes took in her appearance, and his lips compressed. “You’re planning on wearing a dress, right? I mean, you aren’t going to go back to dressing like a boy, are you?”
“I plan on wearing dresses to church—” she jutted her chin “—but that doesn’t mean I’m going to get all fancied up just to dig in the dirt.”
His face reddened, masking the smattering of freckles on his fair skin. “Don’t get mad, Sophie. You know my ma. The only reason she asked was because she thinks you’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“So this was her idea, not yours?”
“Actually, it was Pa’s.” Twisting his upper body, he again surveyed the outbuildings and fields. “You’ve done a remarkable job keeping up the farm.”
Sophie gritted her teeth as annoyance flared. She was beginning to put two and two together and she didn’t like the emerging picture. Still, she’d already accepted.
“Thanks.” Jerking a thumb over her shoulder, she said, “I guess I should get back to work. Lots to do.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Tugging on the brim of his hat, he mounted up and waved. “See ya Sunday.”
She stood at the edge of her small vegetable garden and watched him ride away, a disturbing thought weaving through her mind. Now that Tobias was gone, how many farmers viewed her land as up for grabs? And how many of them were willing to use her to get it?