Bound For Eden (44 page)

Luke wasn't sure who caused more of a stir: Alex or Matt. He'd expected the swarm of men who gathered around Alex, but he hadn't expected the ladies to flock to his brother.

‘If only he'd shaved years ago,' Tom said dryly, ‘you would have had a quieter time of it.'

Luke grunted, too busy keeping a close eye on Alex to listen properly. Tom rolled his eyes. It hadn't taken him long to work out that Alexandra Barratt was the reason his brother had come home ornery. The man was obviously head over heels. Tom couldn't for the life of him work out why he didn't make a move. She was just as obviously in love with him.

He shrugged. What did he care if his brother acted the idiot? It gave the rest of them a chance to woo her. And who knew, maybe they'd succeed in turning her head. The men of Utopia were certainly giving it a serious try. Even Dell Pritchard and Josh Masters, who'd long ago declared their undying love for Amelia, were fluttering about Alex like suicidal moths.

‘Well,' Tom declared heartily, slapping his brother on the back, ‘at least the competition for Amelia seems to be thinning.' Grinning at the sight of Luke's scowl, he headed off to join the moths.

‘I wish they wouldn't make such fools of themselves,' Amelia Harding sighed, catching sight of the usual knot of women through the delicate lace curtains of the parlour window. She always made a late entrance on Sunday. Otherwise she found herself buttonholed by one particular beau, which upset the others terribly. Why, it had taken her all week to sweeten Curt Loughlin after Luke had monopolised her last Sunday.

‘Surely they know by now that Luke isn't interested?' she continued, checking her reflection in the mirror above the mantel. Her hair, as usual, was sleek and flawless. She pinched her cheeks briskly, to make them bloom.

‘It's not Luke they're interested in,' Moira Duthy said slyly. She was plastered to the window, unable to tear her eyes from Matt Slater. Who could have guessed that he was hiding such looks under that hair?

‘Who is it? One of the new people? Didn't you say one of them was in at the store this week, buying cloth? What does he look like? He can't be more handsome than Luke, surely?' Amelia elbowed Moira out of the way.

Her mouth popped open. ‘It can't be . . .' Amelia's dark eyes narrowed as she took in the chattering women surrounding Matt Slater.

Moira recognised the look. Amelia wasn't about to have a desirable man taking after any woman but her. Moira giggled. Just wait until she went outside and saw the new girl. The one in the daring white shirt, who was surrounded by all of Amelia's beaus. She hastened to fix her bonnet so she could follow Amelia into the garden. She wouldn't miss this for the world.

‘Why, Matthew Slater,' Amelia sang, too focussed on Matt to notice the throng by the barn. ‘I barely recognised you!'

‘Really?' Matt said in a bored tone. ‘I can't imagine why.' He didn't know how Luke put up with these women. Their chatter was making his ears ring.

‘You've lost your beard, silly,' Amelia giggled, none-too-gently pushing Cathy Loughlin and Johanna Sprat out of the way.

‘Time for the service, folks,' Harding bellowed from the mouth of the barn.

‘Oh, wonderful,' Amelia said, threading a proprietary arm through Matt's. ‘Won't it be lovely to hear a real preacher again?'

Matt grimaced as he realised he was expected to escort her into the barn. How had that happened? Meanwhile, across the yard he could see Tom taking Alex's arm. Lucky bastard.

Luke couldn't believe it. Not only did he have to watch Tom pawing Alex, but now Matt had gone and sweet-talked Amelia. Well, he'd be damned if he'd let them see him standing alone at the back of the barn. ‘Miss Sparrow?' he turned to Victoria, pasting a warm smile on his face. But Victoria was oblivious to him, her arm was already neatly entwined with Ned's. Luke clenched his jaw. Fine. Who needed women anyway? They were nothing but a mess of trouble.

He followed the group into the barn, where everyone gathered in a semi-circle around a nervous Stephen Sparrow.

‘This here's our new preacher, everyone,' Harding was announcing, ‘and I hope you'll all go out of your way to make him welcome. He comes to us from Mississippi, and with him are his brother and sisters. Perhaps they'd care to step forward so we can all get to know them?' Blushing, Alex and Victoria stepped forward, ­followed by a very shy Adam, who kept his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. ‘This is Miss Alexandra, Miss Victoria and Adam. You can find them at the Slater place this winter, until they get a house built.'

Every male head swivelled to look at Luke. He struggled to keep his expression neutral. ‘Do she and Tom have an understanding yet?' Dell Pritchard whispered, keeping a close watch on how Tom hovered over the beautiful blonde.

Luke scowled. ‘Not as far as I know.'

‘You mind if I come around sometime?'

He had to resist the urge to belt the man. ‘I thought you had an understanding with Amelia,' he said instead.

Dell snorted. ‘We all know she'll marry you eventually. Although, it looks like your brother might be giving you some stiff competition.'

The man had no idea how close he was to a broken nose.

‘Just before I pass the floor over to the pastor,' Harding said, ‘I want to announce that we've set a date for the winter dance. We'll be holding it on the first weekend of December. Rich and Bea have kindly offered their general store for the venue and my lovely daughter, Amelia, will be heading up the decoration and refreshment committee. If anyone is interested in helping out, you can speak to her after today's service.' Amelia gave a giggle and a wave.

So that was Adele Hardnose, Alex thought numbly. She really was very pretty. And nothing at all like Alex. She had a pointy little chin, a snub nose and glossy dark hair. She was as slight as Victoria, with the coy girlishness of many petite woman. And she was so stylish. Her gown was made of rustling blue and green plaid taffeta, with round little puff sleeves and ruffles around the hem. Alex fiddled self-consciously with the buttons on Luke's shirt. She wished the damn mule hadn't torn her pink dress.

Luke pulled at his collar. It was so stuffy in here, he could hardly breathe he was so hot. His eyes were riveted to Alex's fingers. Any minute he expected one of those flimsy buttons to pop right off the way she was tugging and pulling at them. Hell. Wasn't it torture enough that she was wearing his damn shirt? Was she
trying
to put him in an early grave?

Luke heard Dell Pritchard's breath catch and turned to see the man's eyes similarly riveted on Alex's fingers. And next to him Clay Sprat was open-mouthed, mesmerised by the way her hand had settled at the button directly between her breasts. Luke cleared his throat and when they looked up at him he glared at them. They both flushed and turned their attention back to the preacher.

He'd be damned if he'd let her leave the house in that shirt again.

‘You'll join the committee, won't you, Matt?' Amelia demanded once the last hymn had been sung. She was refusing to release his arm, even though he was trying to pull away. ‘We need a big strong man to cut boughs for us.'

‘How about Tom?' Matt said a little desperately, grabbing his brother as he walked past.

‘How about me for what?' Tom gave Matt a sly grin as he tugged Alex's arm a little more firmly through his own.

‘The decoration committee, silly,' Amelia said with an overly-breathless laugh. She was busy sizing up the new girl, Matt saw. He guessed it didn't take her more than a second to realise that Alex put her in the shade. Matt could feel her talons digging into him. ‘And of course we'd love you to join us, Miss Sparrow, was it?' Amelia's voice dripped with syrup.

‘Barratt,' Alex corrected, equally sweetly, ‘and that's very kind of you, Miss Hardway.'

‘Harding,' Amelia said through a tight smile, ‘but please, do call me Amelia.' She feigned a slight frown. ‘Barratt, did you say? So, we should be calling you Mrs Barratt, then?'

‘Miss,' Alex assured her.

‘But, I thought . . . we were led to believe that the pastor was your brother?'

‘Stephen's parents took me in.'

‘How kind. But aren't you concerned what people will say – living with a man who isn't a blood relation?'

‘I believe she's living with several men who aren't blood relations,' Matt said dryly, ‘but fortunately for the reputations of all concerned, there are other females about too.'

‘Your house must be bursting at the seams,' Amelia remarked.

‘It's a big house,' Matt said sharply. She coloured. It was common knowledge that Luke had built it for her.

‘Where
is
your brother?' Amelia asked suddenly. She hadn't seen him all day. ‘He usually joins us for dinner after the service.'

‘Not today,' Tom observed, nodding towards the gate, where Luke was kicking Delilah into a trot, as he fell in behind a departing wagon. ‘Looks like Maggie McCauley collared him today.'

‘And who is Maggie McCauley?' Alex asked waspishly, when they finally broke free from Amelia.

Tom sighed. He really didn't stand a chance. He turned Alex towards him. ‘Maggie McCauley is no-one you need to worry about, darling. She's all of four foot nothing and as round as a prize pig, but she's a very sweet girl. Her parents run the store, so he's probably gone to buy some goods.'

Alex blinked. Tom was giving her a knowing smile.

‘You may not have noticed, but Luke hasn't so much as looked at another woman since you arrived.'

Alex turned crimson.

‘And if you want my opinion, you'd be a fool to wait for him to come to his senses. He's a stubborn man, it might take years. If I were you, I'd do the wooing myself.'

She was mortified. Was she so obvious? Did everyone know how she felt about him?

‘And Alex,' Tom said softly, ‘if he's more of an idiot than I suspect, and he never comes to his senses, just remember that there are plenty of us who would treat you like a princess.' He dropped a kiss on her forehead and left her to her whirling thoughts.

She was turned upside down inside. The cloth rose under his pillow . . . Tom telling her to woo him . . . she would be glad to lock herself away in her peaceful corner room, where she could privately sift through her thoughts.

But when she got home and opened the door to her room she found anything but peace of mind. Piled on her bed were two stacks of cloth. There was bolt after bolt in dozens of colours and patterns: lawn, muslin, linen, and cotton; taffeta, silk, and finely woven wool. There was even a neat little pile of lace and a bundle of satin ribbons.

‘There's no yellow,' a low voice said softly behind her.

She turned to find herself captured by Luke's intense black gaze.

‘The McCauleys were sold out,' he said. He moved closer and she could feel the heat radiating from him. His liquid eyes were serious and unreadable. ‘I bought everything else they had,' he said softly, his fingers resting lightly against the button between her breasts – she could feel this touch burn through the cloth, right through to her skin.

‘Why?' she asked witlessly.

‘Because,' he growled, releasing her button, ‘I don't want you wearing my shirt any more.'

Forty

It was perfect. Alex examined herself in the mirror and couldn't resist laughing, already relishing her triumph. The man would have to be dead to resist her tonight.

Luke had been studiously avoiding her for almost three weeks. He didn't even seem to notice her new clothes. She'd had such high hopes the morning she'd worn the first dress, which she'd stayed up all night sewing. It was the exact same green as the dress she'd worn to the dance in Independence. She'd primped in front of the mirror for almost an hour before she went down to breakfast, carefully pinning up each wayward curl, and pinching her cheeks until they glowed. But he didn't so much as bat an eye. He growled his usual good morning and headed out to his wretched horses.

But not tonight, she thought giddily, swivelling to examine the back of her beautiful new gown. Tonight was the winter dance, and she'd been working on this dress for more than a week. It was made of deep cranberry-coloured satin – a colour which brought out the vivid hue of her lips, and made her eyes shine. She'd deliberately cut the neckline daringly low, almost as low as the dress Dolly had laced her into, and her breasts swelled above the ripe-red satin, pale and full, rising and falling with every breath she took. Just see if he could ignore that.

She heard a breathy laugh and peeked between the curtains. Below, she could see Ned handing Victoria up into his wagon. Her wheat-coloured silk skirts peeked beneath her new wool coat. The girls, all in white organza, were huddled beneath the canvas hoop, blankets and furs piled high around them. Even from here Alex could see the way her sister's face glowed with joy.

There, Alex thought with a stab of excitement, went her last argument for staying away from Luke Slater. The morning after Luke had given Alex the bolts of material, Vicky had crept into her room. ‘What's all this?' her sister had gasped, tripping over a stack of sprigged muslin.

Alex had swallowed, worried about how Victoria would react. ‘Luke gave them to me.'

‘I guess he didn't like you stealing his shirt,' Victoria remarked, sitting on the bed beside Alex.

‘I guess not.'

Victoria reached over and took her hand. ‘There's something I need to tell you,' she announced, almost wriggling in her excitement.

‘What?'

‘Ned means to ask Stephen for my hand.'

Alex wasn't surprised.

‘And I mean to say yes!'

Now she was. ‘But I thought . . . I thought you had feelings for Luke.'

‘Oh, that,' Victoria said with a sigh. ‘I thought I did. But every woman has feelings for Luke, don't you think? Just look at all of those ninnies at the service yesterday.'