by Diane Darcy
“She can play too.” He glanced at Grace. “You got any money?”
Grace straightened her spine. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stillwater. I’ve no interest in playing poker.”
“Do you know how?”
“I do not.”
“Do you want to learn?” Luke’s deep voice, the invitation, was tempting. “I’ll teach you how to play.”
She lifted her chin. “I’ve no intention of learning poker.” She could only imagine what Mrs. Braxton would think of that.
Grace watch the two of them set up the game. “Mr. Carrington. You must know we cannot stay long.”
“This won’t take but a minute,” the old man assured as he sat and started shuffling cards. “Anyway, thought you wanted to look at my books.”
Grace glanced back at the bookshelf, tempted. “May I?” She gestured toward the books.
Mr. Stillwater nodded. “I guess. As long as your hands are clean. But don’t be thinking you’ll take any with you. Those are mine.”
She completely understood the possessiveness. She’d left books behind in New York and had agonized about which to take with her. Favorites? Or unread ones? The choice hadn’t been easy.
Grace carefully touched a light green colored book and pulled it out to study the cover. She hadn’t read this one. One at a time, she pulled out more titles and opened a few to read the first pages. There were some she’d never even heard of before. She finally started a story she couldn’t resist, and settled into a chair with good lighting coming in the window and continued to read.
She was slightly aware of the men in the background. Luke went outside to stake the horse in a patch of grass and returned to laugh and chat with Mr. Stillwater. She was somewhat aware of the fact they should leave soon if she didn’t want to be missed. But she was caught in the story and couldn’t seem to pull herself away, or to care.
Hours later, when Luke finally stood, Grace reluctantly glanced up.
“Ready to go?”
“Oh.” She was so taken with the fictional world that it took her a moment to understand what he meant.
She shut the book and stood in one move. “My goodness. What time do you suppose it is?”
“Time to get back, I’d say.”
Grace’s gaze dropped to the book in her hands. She didn’t want to go anywhere. She wanted to finish the story. She regarded the old man. “What happens? In the story, I mean? I got to the part where—”
Mr. Stillwater held up a hand. “I suppose you’ll have to have Luke bring you out another day if you want to read the rest.”
She wanted to clutch the book to her chest and make a run for the door, but good manners prevented her from acting on impulse—well, that and the fact the old man would no doubt tackle her. She carefully slid the book into its place on the bookshelf.
Once outside, Luke hitched the horse, helped her back into the wagon, and they were on their way. For once, Luke didn’t try to goad or tease and they enjoyed a pleasant ride back to town. When they hit the outskirts, and were passing a large white Colonial home sporting large pillars in front, a woman came through the front door and waved them down.
“Luke! I need to talk to you!”
Luke obligingly stopped the horse. “Mrs. Samuels?”
“We have too many eggs.” She was speaking to Luke, but the older woman’s curious gaze slid to Grace.
“What are you talking about?”
“In the chicken coop out back. There are too many eggs. You’re never home to eat them, and I have more than I know what to do with. If you’d just stay home once in a while …”
As the woman continued to berate Luke, and steal glances at Grace, it dawned on her that the woman was Luke’s housekeeper. She glanced up. The colonial-style mansion, big and intimidating, meant to impress, was Luke’s house?
Miss Penny Carmichael might be expected to live in such a place after her marriage, but Miss Grace West would not.
“What if you hire a couple of boys to sell the eggs around town?”
As the two continued to talk, Grace frowned in dismay. Luke was so down to earth that, mayor or not, she hadn’t expected him to own this type of home. She hadn’t expected him to have this kind of wealth.
“If you would stop sleeping in your office, and come home and sleep in your bed, you would be eating your own eggs.”
“I like sleeping in my office.”
Grace blushed to remember she’d been alone with him in that office. In the place he slept. She felt overheated, foolish, let down.
Without realizing it, she’d started to nurture feelings for him. Maybe even a little bit of hope for a possible future. But this man was beyond her reach. Yes, he was essentially courting her, but only because he thought she was like him. Rich. Connected. Powerful.
Instead, she was an impostor. Poor. Unconnected. Powerless.
Her stomach clenched. She wasn’t the girl for him, and she never would be.
Yes, they had fun together. But she didn’t even know his reasons for seeking her out. He certainly hadn’t stated his intentions. Was he actually courting her? Or was he simply spending time with her to pester the widow?
She swallowed hard. Either way, she needed to stop seeing him. She was causing unnecessary complications. If she just stayed away from the man, if she just treated him like he was anybody else, then she’d have no reason for hope or regrets.
It was a sound plan with solid reasoning.
She glanced at his handsome profile and smiled tightly when he threw her a quick, slightly mischievous grin.
The man was not irresistible.
Somehow, she’d prove that to herself.
Chapter 9
Grace’s throat tightened unexpectedly when Luke pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the pie shop. This was it. The last personal moment they’d spend together, and the realization made tears spring to her eyes.
Luke leaped down from the wagon and offered his hand. Lowering her gaze, Grace took it. Her hand clenched on his as she tried to retain the heat, to memorize the feeling for later examination.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You seem like you’re about to cry.”
“It’s just the wind.” She didn’t look at him as she steadied herself on the ground and released his hand for the last time.
She was a fool.
She took a breath to thank him, and maybe to get one last close glance at his face, and instead flinched when Mrs. Braxton walk out of the pie shop behind Luke. “Oh, no,” Grace said softly.
Luke gazed over his shoulder, then turned to smile and grip the brim of his hat. “Mrs. Braxton.”
Widow Braxton stared at the two of them standing together and her hands went to her hips. “Where have you been all day? Alone? Together? Miss Carmichael, I’m not sure what sort of permissiveness they tolerate in New York City, but things are done a little differently around here.”
Luke’s hands lifted in a calming gesture. “Now, now, Miss Carmichael hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s been the soul of propriety. We simply went out to visit Old Man Stillwater. A charity visit, if you will.”
“Not a word from you, Mr. Mayor. Apparently the two of us have a very different definition of the word propriety. Speaking of which, are you aware there are sporting women in the saloon? I’d like to know what kind of town you envision this becoming, I truly would.”
“I’m sure they won’t be staying around after the tournament is over.”
“And I’m sure you cannot be sure of that. Regardless, the morals in this town are slipping by the moment. Miss Carmichael? If you will please follow me?”
Grace quickly fell into step beside Mrs. Braxton as they headed home. She wasn’t sure what to say, but had to start somewhere. She inhaled. “Mrs. Braxton, I’m truly sorry I went off with Mayor Carrington. I shouldn’t have done that. I have no excuse for my behavior, but I assure you, it won’t happen again.” Her stomach sank as she said the last words,
and realized she truly wouldn’t see him in such a way again.
Mrs. Braxton sighed. “Miss Carmichael, I know you’re young, and the mayor can be charming and persuasive, but you must remember he’s the enemy.”
“I’ll remember. It was just a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“I should certainly hope not.” After a moment she exhaled. “Well, these things do occur between young people. I’m sure somehow this is all Mayor Carrington’s fault. I’ve no doubt he intentionally led you astray.”
Though he did tempt her with books, Grace didn’t like blaming Luke. “It’s not just his fault.”
“I’m quite sure it is.”
“But—”
“I won’t hear another word on the subject.”
“I truly am sorry.” Grace remembered how optimistic she’d been when she’d risen that morning. She wished somehow she could restart the day and come to a different conclusion about her relationship with Luke. Instead, her chest felt hollow, empty, as if she’d lost something. Which was ridiculous. He was never hers to lose. They walked until Grace couldn’t stand the silence. “We drove by the mayor’s house. I understand he doesn’t actually live there.”
“It’s a sad story. After his wife and child died, he moved into his office and has stayed there ever since. That big house stands empty, except for the housekeeper, Mrs. Samuels. The poor lady doesn’t have anyone to care for and to make matters worse, I understand Luke makes a rare appearance for dinner, so she’s kept in a constant state of uncertainty.”
Grace could sympathize. She never knew what Luke would do next either. “It’s really sad about his wife.”
“Yes. Yes, it is. She wasn’t the easiest woman to get along with, but I suppose that was due to her upbringing and a difficult pregnancy. She came from San Francisco, you know. From money. When Luke and his friends struck it rich, it allowed them entrance into high society. San Francisco is like that. New money, old money—they don’t bother to differentiate.”
So his wife had been rich, just like Penny’s family.
Once again, Grace felt unworthy, undesirable. She didn’t want to pursue the subject. “We’ve had such good weather. It’s been very nice.”
“I hope it holds for the town picnic. As a single lady, you need to think about making a basket for it. And maybe we should host a booth this year. What do you think? Shall we sell pies?”
Grace felt a spurt of guilt for the picnic she’d already attended and hoped Mrs. Braxton never heard tale of it. She took a deep breath and focused on the idea.
It would keep her mind occupied.
Maybe to the extent she could stop thinking about Luke.
“Sure, a pie sale sounds wonderful.”
Watching Grace go inside, Helen hesitated for a moment, glancing back in the direction of Main Street. Had Luke gone home? Back to his office? Would her warning him away act as a sufficient spur?
Her lips curved. This was working out much better than she ever could have imagined. Luke couldn’t seem to stay away from Grace, and, of course, Grace was no match for his charm. What woman would be?
Helen knew men like Luke. Her husband had been similar. Hard-headed, stubborn, and irresistible. She knew how they thought, or rather, how they reacted before they thought. It had taken years to get to the point where she knew how to manage him.
But manage him, she had.
Just the thought of her dear Henry carved a sharp emptiness in her chest. She missed him more and more as the years went by. How he would’ve laughed at this situation. Then he’d have egged her on, of course.
She went inside just as Grace gently shut her bedroom door.
Helen felt bad that the girl believed she was angry with her. But, not too bad. She’d do whatever was necessary to get those boys married and settled.
Now was not the time to lose her mettle.
Now was not the time to falter.
She’d get those boys married if it was the last thing she ever did.
Later that night Grace started awake when she heard several taps at her window.
She lay quietly, listening, wondering if it were a bird or insect. A sudden spray of what sounded like pebbles skittered against the glass and answered her question.
She jumped up, pushed the lace curtain aside, and peeked into the darkness below.
Luke stood on the grass, his face upraised, his arm drawn back, no doubt to throw more pebbles. When he saw her, he waved instead.
She opened the window. “What are you doing? You need to leave,” she hissed.
“I need to talk to you.”
Grace glanced over her shoulder, paranoid, wondering if Mrs. Braxton stood behind her. Ridiculous. It was the middle of the night and Grace’s bedroom door remained firmly shut. The widow was no doubt sleeping peacefully on the other side of the house. “Decent people are abed at this hour. You need to go home. Or back to your office. Or wherever it is you sleep.”
“I’m going to climb this tree if you don’t come talk to me.”
She peered down, trying to get a better look at him. “Have you been drinking?”
A soft chuckle rose. “I had a glass of water a while ago. That’s it.”
She moved back, then leaned down again, tempted, indecisive.
“All right. Here I come.” He headed toward the tree trunk and gripped the lowest branch.
“Stop!” She hesitated. If she locked the window he couldn’t come inside. He wouldn’t dare break it, would he? But what if he fell? “Just wait there. I’m coming down.”
Grace slowly, quietly opened her bedroom door. She peered out into the hallway and when she didn’t see anybody, tiptoed down the stairs. What was he doing? She considered going outside to meet him—that was no doubt what he’d planned—but she was in her nightwear. Instead, she made her way to the study window, the room below her own, and hesitated. She wasn’t going to see him anymore. He needed to understand that and she needed to remain strong. Bracing herself, she unlocked the window and pushed it open.
He was nowhere to be seen. “Luke?” she whispered.
He rounded the corner, saw her peeking out, and hurried to meet her, his face shadowed in darkness.
“I’m sorry, Luke. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I have to tell you we can’t see each other anymore.”
He made an impatient noise. “I knew she would talk you into this.”
“I’m sorry.”
He studied her in the darkness and reached out to cup her cheek. “You do sound sorry.”
She resisted the temptation to rub her face against his palm. “I am.”
“This is the widow’s decision, not yours,” Luke said darkly.
“I’m sure she just wants what’s best for me.”
“And I’m bad for you?”
Why did she have to be so drawn to him? Grace thought about her earlier concerns, about how Luke wanted a moneyed wife like his first one. It would be easier if she just pretended this was what she wanted. “Luke, I think it’s for the best too.”
“She got to you, didn’t she? I knew it!”
Before she understood what was happening, Luke had hold of her shoulders, and gently but firmly started to pull her out the window. Her legs tangled in the nightgown and she clung to him, fearful of falling. “What …what are you doing?” She whispered the words fiercely as she struggled against him, but it did her no good. “You need to stop!”
He didn’t stop. He pulled her all the way out the window, his arms hooking under her knees before he straightened and steadied her as she found her footing in the cool grass. “I’m kidnapping you.”
Her cheeks heated. She was embarrassed to stand before him in her white nightgown. “Kidnapping?”
“I promise I won’t take you far.” He pulled her around the side of the house, into his arms, and then he was kissing her.
As their lips met, Grace flushed with heat. She could hardly breathe as sudden sensation swirled within her. Once again, Luke was se
ducing her senses, and she was weak, helpless against him as his big, warm hands traveled her back, her shoulders, then enveloped her to clasp her tight against his body. The pressure of his mouth stole her breath away as her heart thundered.
After a few minutes, she barely found the strength to wrench free. She immediately missed the contact. “This is insane.”
Luke kissed her again and her eyes slid shut in bliss as she twined her arms about his neck. He smiled against her mouth and pulled away. “Then call me crazy.”
“We have to stop.”
“In a moment.”
His hands cupped her face as his thumbs slid along her cheekbones, then he was kissing her again. In a moment sounded good to her. In just a moment they’d stop. His lips, soft on hers, were at delicious odds with the scrape of whiskers against her sensitive skin. Her legs weakened as she leaned into him.
He finally broke away, let go of her, and took a step back, though his hands slid down her arms to clasp her hands.
They stared at each other in the darkness, both of them breathing heavily.
“There is no chance this is even close to being over.”
She remained mute, unable to think through the tangle of her thoughts.
He sucked in a breath. “You’d better go back inside. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
She nodded.
“Let me help you.” Strong arms lifted her and helped her back in the window, feet first, before releasing her slowly.
She turned around as guilt caught up with her. “We can never do this again.”
Luke nodded and sucked in another shuddering breath. “You’re right, this was a bad idea.”
Her heart sank. Apparently, idiot that she was, she’d wanted him to argue. “Good night.”
“But I meant what I said. This isn’t over.”
How could his confidence make her heart soar? It was over. It had to be. She pulled the window closed and locked it.
He stood staring at her on the other side of the glass, shaking his head. It about killed her to turn and walk away. She moved out of the room and up the stairs. She was the crazy one. She needed to let him go. Convince him she wasn’t for him.