The Cowboy's Honor

by Amy Sandas

  Then again, maybe she could.

  The tray was getting heavy so she picked up her pace a bit. She hadn’t seen what Jimena had dished up since it was covered by a linen napkin to keep it warm, but it seemed like a lot of weight for one man’s breakfast.

  She made it to the barn, but not without a few stumbles in her new boots that nearly sent the tray and everything on it flying into the dirt.

  The barn was cool and dimly lit. It took Courtney several steps down the center aisle before her eyes adjusted from the bright morning light outside. The place was oddly quiet, and she guessed that any horses not in use were probably out to pasture. She did hear a quiet bleating that might have been a sheep, but with her arms quickly tiring, she passed on the idea of investigating what had made the sound.

  Peering ahead to the end of the long aisle, she saw no evidence of Lawton. Even the hayloft overhead was still and silent. Her arms starting to tense and shake from the effort of carrying the large tray, Courtney continued forward in measured strides.

  Maybe he wasn’t there. She paused to adjust her grip on the tray. “Mr. Lawton.”

  Hearing nothing, she called out significantly louder, “Mr. Lawton, I have your breakfast.”

  “Back here.”

  She hadn’t expected a response, but that was definitely Lawton’s voice. For some reason, the sound of it—even coming from the far end of the barn—caused a little twist in her belly. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sensation and, for a ridiculous moment, felt an awful lot like anticipation.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dean did not want to see her that morning.

  Not after the wicked thoughts that had kept him up all night. The simple sound of her voice, melodic and feminine, managed to stir his blood even as the obviously cultured, eastern intonation of her words sparked his irritation.

  His body might be dying to have hers underneath him, but Dean still wanted her gone.

  A cattle ranch was no place for a woman like her. His own mother had proven as much when she’d taken off for Chicago within days of his father’s funeral, leaving behind two small sons. Ranch life had been too hard for a city-bred lady raised with all the comforts a wealthy family could provide.

  His temporary bride was cut from the same fine and elegant cloth.

  He probably should have gotten his annoyance under wraps before she reached his office, but he’d been so focused on making sure his body didn’t reveal his physical reaction to her that he’d forgotten to conceal his bad mood. That being the case, he was pretty sure he knew why she came to an abrupt stop just inside the open door to his office, her robin’s-egg-blue dress and her fiery-red hair creating bright splashes of color in the midst of the barn’s dim brown hues.

  As her gaze swept over his tense features, her eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Something akin to disappointment flickered in their green depths before she shifted her attention to a swift scan of the room.

  His office was nothing special. Just a desk, some bookshelves, a table, and a couple chairs. It took only a moment for her to take it all in before her gaze returned to him, her expression blankly serene once again.

  “I apologize for disturbing you, Mr. Lawton,” she said. “If you would just show me where to set this down, I will leave you alone.”

  Even when performing the humble task of bringing him his breakfast, the woman managed to sound fine and proper. Why the hell did she even bother to carry his breakfast all the way out here? Usually, he made it back to the house later in the morning to eat whatever Jimena left for him in the kitchen.

  He rose to his feet and stepped around from behind his desk. “I’ll take it.”

  Noting how much was piled on the tray, a prickle of suspicion inched down his neck.

  What was Jimena up to?

  Though her posture remained stiff, a little sigh of relief lifted Courtney’s chest as he took the burden from her hands. “Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Lawton.”

  “You’re not expecting me to eat both these meals,” he said as he set the tray on the small table beneath the only window in the room and started to uncover the plates.

  “What?”

  Dean looked up to where she stood in the doorway. She had already turned to leave and now looked back over her shoulder. The twist of thick red hair at the back of her head allowed soft tendrils to curl at her nape and against her temples as a slight furrow above her brow shadowed her gaze.

  “There’s enough for two people here. It looks like Jimena expected you to eat with me.”

  Courtney’s eyes widened as she glanced at the food. “Oh. I can take my meal back to the house, if you would rather enjoy your breakfast alone,” she suggested, lifting her gaze back to meet his.

  She had just given him an easy out. All he had to do was nod and say he’d only grab a few bites while he continued to work. Instead, he found himself saying, “You can stay.”

  Her surprise was evident and made him feel like an ass. “Are you sure?”

  Nope. Not sure at all. But it was too late now. “If I send you back to the house, Jimena’ll likely come out here and smack me upside the head.”

  Her lips twitched, then curled into a true smile. He was startled to notice that one of the arches on her upper lip lifted just a touch higher than the other. It was just a tiny imperfection—barely worth noticing—but it made Dean feel as though he’d been kicked in the gut.

  “Well, that’s not exactly incentive to stay,” she replied slowly.

  Dean narrowed his gaze in an exaggerated glower. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to see me bashed with an iron pan, I prefer my skull whole. Come sit.”

  Her movements were reluctant as she approached the rickety, old table. Dean accepted responsibility for that, realizing he hadn’t made any effort to make her feel welcome despite the tentative truce they’d called. He’d never shared a meal with anyone in his office before—heck, he’d never eaten a meal in his office before—and figured there was only one reason Jimena felt he had to now.

  He’d have to see about setting the woman straight on whatever she thought might be going on between him and his temporary bride. It was bad enough having to deal with Randall’s constant interference; he didn’t intend to suffer any matchmaking attempts from Jimena.

  He set a plate of food in front of each chair and waited for his breakfast companion to be properly seated before he took his own seat. They ate in silence for a while, the atmosphere charged with an awkward awareness. He didn’t have to stare across the table to know she sat with stick-straight posture and used her knife and fork with elegant grace. He’d noticed the same last night and had to forcefully keep himself from watching the beautiful way her hands moved while executing the mundane task.

  His more relaxed manners were probably appalling in her eyes.

  If Jimena was hoping something might develop between the two of them, he didn’t see how breakfast in his dusty, hay-smelling office in the back of a barn was conducive to that. The woman across the table couldn’t have appeared any more uncomfortable.

  As host, it was Dean’s duty to ease the tension in the room, but he wasn’t particularly inclined toward light conversation. After a while, however, the silence seemed to just make things worse.

  “I suppose you’re used to finer fare,” he finally said.

  She looked at him with a brief start of surprise, clearly not expecting an attempt at conversation. Then she glanced down at her plate before meeting his gaze again. The green of her eyes was striking compared to the dark-brown tones of their surroundings.

  Her lips tilted in a smile. “I’ll admit that during my days of travel, I’d despaired of ever again having a satisfying meal. Train fare and quick stage stops leave much to be desired, I’m afraid. You are not wrong in thinking I’ve likely been spoiled by the culinary offerings available in Boston. Back home, there are
fine-dining restaurants that specialize in various cuisines from all over the world.” She paused to gesture toward the food on her plate. “But I would argue that Jimena’s cooking could rival the best of them.”

  Dean was surprised by her praise when he’d expected the opposite. “She’d probably love to know that.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her,” Courtney replied, her smile widening. “I’m looking forward to the new dishes she will introduce me to. There is something exciting about trying new foods and experiencing new flavors. I used to dream of traveling abroad, going from country to country, sampling their best culinary offerings.”

  “Did you?”

  She looked up at him, surprised by his question. “Did I what?”

  “Go to any of those places.”

  “No. It was simply a child’s fancy. The farthest I’ve ever gone is to New York City.”

  He gave her a pointed look. “I’d say the farthest you’ve gone is Montana Territory.”

  Her expression brightened with a flash of amusement. “Right again. My experiences so far have certainly lent themselves to a sense of being in a completely different country. The new food, unusually vast landscapes”—she met his gaze with an impish curl to her lips—“strange marriage customs.”

  A half smile tugged at his mouth. Her humor was difficult to resist. “We are a land of few women. We gotta do something to keep them around.” He immediately thought of his mother. “Though even marriage ain’t enough to stop some women from leaving.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

  They stared at each other. He could see the curiosity burning in her eyes as she patiently waited him out. He shouldn’t have brought up his mother. He rarely did. That wasn’t to say he didn’t think of her on occasion, but not nearly as much as he had since this woman stumbled into his life.

  “Who left?” she asked after a bit.

  He figured there was no reason not to say. It wasn’t a secret. “My mother. Twenty years ago now.”

  Her eyes widened. “You must have been very young.”

  “I was seven. Randall was four.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  Dean shrugged. “After my dad died, she couldn’t find enough reason to stay. From all accounts, she’d loved him, but she’d hated it out here. She was used to a finer lifestyle in Chicago and went back to it as soon as she could.”

  “She left you and your brother behind? Why on earth did she not take you both with her?”

  Dean looked down at his plate. “I’m pretty sure my granddad had something to do with that. With my dad gone, he needed someone brought up to take over the ranch.”

  “But she was your mother. Your place was with her.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe, but we didn’t want to leave. Or at least I didn’t. This was the only home I’d ever known.”

  “Even so,” Courtney argued. “It should have been your mother’s decision whether you stayed here or went with her.”

  Dean looked up. “It was.”

  He hated the awareness and pity that slid into her eyes. His mother had made her choice. It no longer affected him. He didn’t regret one day of growing up on the ranch. His mother had written to them often in the beginning, describing her life in Chicago, promising to bring them to town for a visit. And Augie had made sure they replied to every letter. But the letters grew less frequent over the years and eventually stopped altogether. It had been nearly ten years since he’d heard from her. He rarely felt the loss.

  Shaking himself from his thoughts, he realized the woman across from him was still watching him intently. He got the sense she was trying to see something inside him. He didn’t like it.

  “So, why’d you run away from your wedding?”

  It was the first thing that came to mind as a change in topic, and he didn’t realize until the words were spoken how abrupt the inquiry was.

  Her eyes narrowed briefly. A clear indication that she saw his avoidance tactic for what it was. Then she set her fork down and folded her hands on her lap under the table. “It was nothing, really.”

  She obviously didn’t want to answer, but Dean figured a response was only fair. She’d drawn something out of him he hadn’t wanted to share, so now it was her turn. Besides, it was time he learned a little more about the woman who temporarily shared his name.

  “Nothing. Really?” Dean’s skepticism was thick in his voice. “Something had to make a woman jump on a train and head west without taking a minute to pack any personal items or figure out where she was going.”

  Her chin lifted a notch. “I knew where I was going.”

  “Right. To your friend. And where is she exactly?”

  “Helena.” Her tone had gone flat and defensive in the face of his questioning.

  “Which is still another few days west of here.” He could see by the widening of her eyes that she hadn’t realized how far she was from her intended destination. He’d best know now if he was gonna have some crazed fiancé chasing her down. “What made you run?”

  He admired the pride and self-possession she displayed then. Nothing changed in her posture or demeanor, but he sensed a shift in her, a disturbance originating from deep within.

  “I discovered that the gentleman I was going to marry loved another,” she replied.

  Dean hadn’t expected that. “He broke off the engagement at the last minute?”

  “Not quite. According to the letter that was accidentally delivered to my room, he fully intended to go forward with the wedding while vowing rather passionately to his…lover that they would continue on in secret.”

  Dean sat back in his chair and gave a small shake of his head. At least Anne had chosen to end her engagement to him once she realized her heart belonged to another man.

  He studied the woman seated across from him, the way she gave nothing away in her expression or tone. “He broke your heart.”

  Something flitted through her gaze. Then she sighed and her spine softened on her exhale. “No. No, he didn’t. We were promised to each other as children. It was an advantageous match for both our families. I expected friendship and respect in my marriage. Deeper emotions do not generally come into play in such arrangements.”

  “But you’d hoped they would.”

  Her lashes fluttered as though she was tempted to glance away, but she held his gaze instead. She seemed reluctant to acknowledge that she might have wanted more out of her marriage than what was expected.

  And why shouldn’t she? Happiness was hard enough to come by.

  Then she tilted her head in the thoughtful way she had. “I thought about it quite a bit those first few days on the train,” she replied. “Though I initially felt quite devastated, it was mainly due to disillusionment and hurt pride, I suppose. It bothered me that I had been so naive. I certainly do not believe he planned for any of it to happen. He wouldn’t have intentionally wanted to hurt me. I imagine it is the way of things when love is involved.” The way she said that suggested she had never been in love herself. The wistfulness in her voice and the sad curve of her lips bothered Dean. “I can hardly fault Geoffrey for falling in love,” she added softly.

  His next words came out harsher than he intended. “If he loved someone else, why would he go through with the wedding?”

  “His family had made a commitment. He couldn’t just walk away from it.”

  “You did.”

  She took a deep breath and lifted her brows. “And my family has likely been greatly shamed by the scandal I caused. My behavior was unforgivably selfish.”

  Dean leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table. “Seems to me being a little selfish might be necessary every now and then.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Perhaps. My family may never forgive me. Boston society will
certainly shun me, should I ever return.”

  “You plan on going back?”

  Something pulled tight through his center at the almost expectant look in her eyes when she answered softly, “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Later that day, Courtney watched from the front porch of the house as Dean rode westward from the homestead. The horse he rode was loaded with a couple saddlebags and other supplies. Courtney didn’t take much note of that detail when she admired the overall picture he made atop his horse as they galloped into the distance, but it did come to mind later, when the hour grew late and he didn’t return.

  He didn’t return the next day or the next or the next.

  Apparently, this was not a surprise to anyone but Courtney, and though she was curious, she didn’t dare to ask when he might return. And she certainly didn’t dare to analyze why she felt abandoned by the action.

  Instead, she set her mind to figuring out what she could do to stay busy.

  Considering Dean’s warning not to interfere with the workings of the ranch and the fact that she wasn’t quite sure what that encompassed, there wasn’t much to do.

  Each morning, she woke before dawn to watch the sunrise from her bedroom window before joining Jimena in the kitchen for what she quickly came to see as her morning cooking lessons. After breakfast, Courtney would spend a few quiet hours at the house by herself. It was a singular experience for her. She had never had much cause to spend extended periods of time in her own company. There had always been someone about when she was growing up, and then there had been endless social engagements or events to attend.

  With no one around to dictate how she should spend her time, she began by choosing a book from the collection in the parlor to read on the porch. The first book she read was a selection of stories about the adventures of Lewis and Clark, the great explorers who attempted to chart the vast landscape of the American West. She found the descriptions riveting. Of course she had heard of the two men and knew of their efforts, but to read firsthand accounts of the trials and dangers they had faced in their explorations was truly eye-opening and, at times, rather terrifying.