Courting Kate (13 page)

“You’re very lucky,” she said softly.

“Me? Lucky?” Good thing she couldn’t see his backside.
 

“You have a family. People who care about you, who love you.” She sighed. “Very lucky indeed.” She took his empty dish and set it on the cabinet.
 

“I never thought about it. Don’t you have any family?”

“Only a cousin,” she said, taking her seat again. “Everybody else died in the war. It gets very lonely.”

“Doggone. I had no idea.” He reached out and took her hand. It was small, fine-boned and delicate. His calloused fingers held it gently. Like a hummingbird in a crow’s nest, he thought. “You’ve got lots of friends around town. Besides, we consider you family.”

“You do?” She peeked through a fringe of ebony lashes. “I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“How could you think that?” He wanted to have too much to do with her. That was the problem.
 

“You never expected me. You can’t wait until I leave.” Her eyes grew shiny, like pools of glimmering sapphires. A tear spilled onto her satiny cheek.

“Aww, honey. Don’t cry.” Not knowing what else to do, he drew her into his arms. His motion released a flood-gate of tears. “There, there, it’s all right,” he said, awkwardly patting her on the back. Feeling more inadequate than he ever had in his whole life, he cupped her silky head against his chest and felt his shirt grow damp with her tears. She was so soft, she smelled so sweet. A fire deep within him sprang to life. He fought his lust, forcing himself to remember that it was comfort she was seeking, nothing more. He held her until her heart-wrenching sobs subsided to a series of small hiccups.
 

She pulled away and rubbed her eyes.
 

“Feeling better?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I hate people that cry. I don’t know what came over me.”

He tilted her head and wiped her face with a clean handkerchief he’d found in the pocket of his new pants. “Maybe you’re tired.”

“I have been working hard lately,” she admitted. “And I’ve had a lot of company in the evening.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Just fellows from around town. They seem lonely, too. I’d invite them in, and they would talk for a while, mostly about family they’d left behind. I write letters for some of them. I don’t have the heart to turn them away.”

“They should know a lady needs her sleep,” he said when she muffled a yawn. “What time do you get up of a morning?”

“Five. Sometimes earlier. I do most of my baking then.”

“What time do you go to bed?”

“Ten or so. Depends on whether I have company or not.”

“That proves my point. You’re not getting enough rest.”

“If I had a husband and children, I’d keep those long hours.”

“Yes, but you’d also have somebody to help you.”

Husband and children. Maybe she was thinking about getting married. Of course she was. She’d come all the way out here to marry him, hadn’t she?

He lifted a damp curl off her cheek. So soft. He threaded his fingers through her hair. Like rippling silk. He breathed in her special fragrance. He rubbed her back.

She let out a sigh and arched into his palm. “Oh, that feels good.” She yawned again. “I seem to be more tired than I thought. Maybe I will make an early night of it.” She gazed up at him. Even with her eyes red and swollen, she was beautiful. “Would you mind?”

“Mind?” He saw her glance toward the curtained alcove. “You want to go to bed.” Not daring to dwell on that thought, Tanner got to his feet. “I’ll be back as soon as I can—maybe next week—if that’s all right?”

“Of course.” She followed him to the doorway. “Maybe you could bring John, too?”

“I reckon.” The last thing he needed was his little brother tagging along, but if that’s what she wanted, he guessed he could put up with it. He tilted her head and looked into her eyes. “Good night, Kate. Sweet dreams.” He bent and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then before he yielded to his baser urges, he put on his hat and went out the door.

He waited until she had pulled the curtain. He glanced across the alley at the toolshed, then strode over and opened the door. Spying Luke curled up in the corner, he nudged him with his boot. “Wake up, boy. You’re going home.”

Luke yawned, stretched, then opened his eyes. “Tanner!” He scrambled to his feet.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I—uh, came in after some fl— sugar, then I got tired and thought I’d take a nap.” Luke peered through the doorway. “Why, look at that, it’s dark. I must have slept all afternoon.”

“In a pig’s eye.” Tanner peered around him. “I don’t see any sugar, and I know what you’ve been up to. Not that it did any good, seeing as how you went to sleep.”

Luke sagged. “I didn’t go to sleep until after I ran that other feller off.”

“What other feller?”

“The one whose turn it was. You were already in there, and I figured you didn’t need any other company.”

“You figured that right. What did you tell him?”

“I said Kate was too tired to have visitors tonight, so he left. He’ll get two turns later.”

“No, he won’t.”
 

“He has to. That’s the way it works,” Luke argued.

“Well, it doesn’t work that way anymore. From now on anybody wanting to see Kate will have to go through me.” He raised his finger and thumped his chest.
 

“Now she’ll really end up being an old maid,” Luke grumbled.

Tanner frowned. “Let’s go home.” He led the way to his horse and mounted, gingerly lowering himself into the saddle. When Luke was seated behind him, he nudged the horse toward the mountain.
 

Old maid.
The term certainly didn’t apply to Kate. She was warm, vibrant, loving. But Kate said she was lonely. She wanted to see little John, which meant she liked being around children. She also needed someone to rub her back after a hard day’s work. Someone to hold her when she cried.

Much as he hated to admit it, Kate needed a husband. Somebody that wasn’t dirt poor like him. He let out a long sigh.

The Blaines were responsible for her being here. As head of the family, it was up to him to take care of her. He couldn’t bring her to the mountain—or marry her. She deserved a better life than he could give her. A life that had already killed a stronger woman than Kathleen Deveraux; his stepmother, Maggie. That left only one alternative.

He
had to find Kate a husband.

Chapter 9

“I haven’t seen you around much lately, Chauncey.” Kate carefully wrapped the dried peach pie and handed it over the counter.
 

The miner’s usually amiable face wrinkled into a scowl. “Yeah. Well, it ain’t because I wouldn’t like to be, Miss Kate. Truth is, I’m not on the list no more. Things has changed since we have to go through Tanner.”

“Go through Tanner? Tanner Blaine?”

“Yeah. He’s plumb persnickety about who gets to court you.” Chauncey slapped a hand over his mouth. He peered over at her.

Perplexed by the man’s words, and actions, Kate started to ask him to explain—if he would. But taking note of the guilty expression on his face, she doubted if he would say a word. Maybe there was a better way. She smiled. “Since I don’t seem to have any customers at the moment, how would you like to have a cup of tea with me? I might even have an extra piece of pie.”

“I’d be plumb delighted.”

A whole pie and pot of tea later, Kate knew all she needed to know. She shoved her cup aside and rose from the table. “And just where is Mr. Blaine holding these ‘interviews’?”

“In Madame Jeanne’s parlor, twice a week from three o’clock ‘til five.”

She glanced at the wall clock. Three-thirty. “Is he there today?”

“I imagine so,” the miner said, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I saw quite a lot of fellers headed in that direction.”

“Thank you, Chauncey. I hate to rush you, but it seems I have some business to take care of.”
 

The miner put down his cup, and she took his arm and walked him toward the door. “Oh, and tomorrow’s pie is on the house.”

“I’m real partial to dried apple with raisins,” he said.

“Then that’s what it shall be.” After the man left, she locked the door, then went to change her dress. “Interviewing prospective husbands. For me!” She jerked a freshly ironed white blouse and a navy linen skirt from her closet and put them on. “Of all the nerve. As if I couldn’t pick my own husband—if I wanted one. Which I don’t. Especially one picked out by Tanner Blaine.”

She yanked a brush through her hair to smooth out the tangles then twisted the mass into a knot. “He’s gone too far this time.” He didn’t want her, yet he had the nerve to act as if she were his to pawn off onto somebody else. “I will not stand for it!” Feeling the need to vent her anger, she flung her brush across the room, where it bounced it off the opposite wall. The dog whined and tried to squirrel his huge body under the bed. The only thing he succeeded in hiding was his head.

Ashamed of her outburst, Kate knelt and patted his rump. “Fluffy, it’s all right. Poor doggy. I’m not mad at you, sweetiekins.”
 

His tale thumped the floor and a nose appeared, then large brown eyes peered at her from the bottom edge of the coverlet.
 

“Want a biscuit? Come on, puppy.” She led the way to the warming oven and retrieved a biscuit left over from breakfast. After feeding it to her pet, she went out and shut the door. She didn’t bother to lock it. Nobody in their right mind would enter her home with the dog there.

“Maybe I should have brought him with me. I could have sicced him on Tanner.” Right now, she’d enjoy watching the aggravating Mr. Blaine get his leg chewed off.

Her skirts swishing, she strode down the boardwalk. The faster she walked, the madder she got. By the time she reached the boardinghouse, she was in a white-hot fury.

She entered without knocking, then paused in the vestibule to catch her breath.
 

“Next,” a deep voice called from inside the parlor.

Next?
She shoved the parlor door open, then closed it behind her.

“Kate?” Tanner scooted his chair back from the desk. “Uh, what are you doing here?” Glancing at the doorway, he ran a finger around the inside of his collar and gave her a sickly grin.
 

“Why, whatever do you mean? I came to visit Madame Jeanne.” She removed her gloves one finger at a time, then placed her palms on the desk. She leaned toward him. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t be here?”

“Not at all. Jeanne’s upstairs.” He pointed toward the ceiling.
 

“Why are you here?” she asked, making no move to leave. “I thought you had timber to cut.”

He didn’t answer, instead he shot a another look toward the doorway.

“Expecting company?” She took off her cloak.
 

“Uh... no. Not exactly.” He came around the desk. “Have a seat. No, not there.” He pulled her out of a chair facing the door and plopped her down in another. “This one is better. You can look out the window.”

“Maybe I don’t want to look out the window.” She got out of the chair and followed him back to the desk, effectively blocking any attempt he might have made to escape. “Maybe I’d rather look at you.” She placed her palm against his chest and backed him against the wall. He looked jumpy as an old maid on her first date. And she hadn’t even started.

“Hmmm.” She studied him a minute, then slowly walked around him. Stopping directly in front of him, she thoughtfully trailed her finger down his forehead, his nose and across his lips.
 

“What are you doing?” he asked warily.

She ran her other hand up his chest—and undid the top button of his shirt. Then watching his eyes widen, she undid the second button. Then the third.

He blinked. “Kate!” He grasped his shirtfront, trying to hold it together.
 

“Stand still.” She slapped his fists aside, then slid her hands in next to his bare chest. His heart pounded like a trip-hammer against her palm. She nodded—and pulled out his shirttail.

He sucked in a breath. “Miss Deveraux?”

“No scars, that I can see—except this itsy-bitsy one right here.” She touched a spot to the right of his nipple. “Oh, and one right here.” She put the tip of her finger against the base of his neck. “And this one on your chin.”

“A wood chip hit me.”

“Poor baby.” She stood on tiptoe, touched it with her lips, then traced the scar with her tongue.
 

“Kate,” he breathed.
 

She brushed her lips against his and felt him tremble. She backed away, eyeing him speculatively. “Kisses okay. Nice lips, good teeth.” She pointed to the open notepad on the desk. “You might want to take notes.”

“Notes?” A bewildered expression on his face, he stared at the pencil she’d shoved into his hand.

“Uh-huh.” She stepped close, lifted his shirttail, then moved her hands over his back, in a slow examining motion. “Back seems all right. No discernable lumps or knots.”