Patchwork Bride (5 page)

Dawn hadn’t yet softened the night’s shadows, but already the horses were stirring, some more enthusiastic than others, nickering for attention and feed. Braden led the first animal out of her stall—a demure white mare—and cross-tied her in the breezeway.

“Get to work.” Braden handed him a pitchfork and left him to take care of business.

A lot must have been on his mind last night because it tried to surface as he worked. He dug the tines into the soiled straw and hiked it into a pile. He worked with quick, even strokes, lifting and turning the fork, making fast work of the roomy stall before moving onto the next. Was Meredith far from him mind?

Not a chance.

Worse than that, he couldn’t stop thinking of home. As merry golden light fell through the cracks in the walls and the double doors open on either end of the barn, he lost his battle to keep sad things buried. Maybe it was this place, he conceded, with its impressive stone-and-wood manor house. The no-expenses-spared stables and fine pedigreed horses reminded him of his family’s stable back home. Not that Father was a horseman by any means, but he took pride in owning the best driving horses in White Water County. Appearances were everything in his family.

His guts still twisted up remembering the pressure he’d felt as the firstborn. The love he’d tried so hard to earn most of his childhood until he finally figured out that if you had to earn it, then it wasn’t love. Not the real thing, anyway.

Although he’d been gone a while, he missed his family. Just because he couldn’t get along with them didn’t mean a lack of love. He thought of Grandmama and her kitchen full of delicious smells and her plain house full of blooming flowers. Mother with her narrow view of the world and her belief that she ought to control what she could of it. His younger brother who was
always in and out of one scrape or another. Hard to imagine him buckling down to work in Father’s and Grandfather’s firm and being groomed for politics. He missed the boy’s constant ribbing and antics.

Homesickness tugged at him. There were good things he missed—wrestling with his brother, riding with his dad, his mother’s cookies and his grandmother’s understanding. Sure, he missed home, although he did not want to be there.

“Time to harness up the gray mare for the schoolgirls.” Braden’s announcement rang through the barn like a death knell.

Shane grimaced. In truth, he’d been hoping to put that task off as long as possible. Nothing to be done about it but put aside his pitchfork, leave the rest to Braden and go in search of the old, placid mare.

Sweetie greeted him with hopefulness. Recognizing the gleam in those big brown eyes, he searched his pockets for a sugar cube. She took it daintily from his palm, a polite girl. Hard not to like her. Her beauty wasn’t in long, perfect lines or the quality of her breeding, but in something far more important. He led her gently through the barn to the buggy he’d washed while his hands froze in yesterday’s last bit of daylight and slipped a collar over her neck.

“Whatever happens—” a voice broke the silence behind him “—don’t let Meredith talk you into driving.”

“Yes, Mr. Worthington.” He’d met the patriarch of the family late last night after all the barn work was done. He didn’t have an opinion of the man one way or the other. Worthington hadn’t been as off-putting as
his wife and was far friendlier. Shane gave the mare a pat. “I expect the roads to be tough going, so I’d like to get an early start.”

“Wise. I’ll inform the girls.” Robert hesitated like a man with something on his mind.

Here it comes,
Shane predicted. He buckled the gray mare into the traces, bracing himself for whatever warning or judgment the wealthy man was about to make. Most likely a threatening warning to stay away from the Worthington daughters.

“It was hard to let Eli go. He had been a fine employee. Always took care of my horses and my girls. I never gave either of them a moment’s worry when they were in his care.” Robert cracked a smile, a masculine hint of Meredith’s, and he had the same stormy blue eyes.

This job meant a lot to him so he would take the warning on the chin. Not let insult to injury show.

“I can read between the lines,” Worthington went on. “The mud on the girls. Mud on the buggy. And poor Sweetie was barrel high. I noticed you cleaned the buggy, boots and tack without saying a word. You helped the girls when they needed it, and I’m much obliged. I can rest easier knowing they are in safe hands with you at the reins.”

Sometimes folks surprised you,
Shane thought as he gave the last buckle a tug. Maybe this would be a better assignment than he’d figured, not that he was looking forward to driving Miss Meredith Worthington around town. But this was what Worthington wanted, so he would do it to the best of his ability. “I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

“You say that like a man who has no clue what he’s in for.” Worthington shook his head, retracing his steps. “Meredith is not happy about this. Consider it a word of warning.”

Meredith. As if his thoughts had summoned her, she bustled into the barn, dusted with snowfall and clutching a big stack of schoolbooks in the crook of her arm. If the scowl on her beautiful face was any indication, she was about as thrilled with the situation as he was.

H
er plan to banish Shane Connelly from her thoughts backfired like a Winchester with a jammed cartridge. Meredith swiped snow from her face as she took smaller and smaller steps toward the waiting buggy. He was there, as remote as stone, as unmoving as marble. He did not even seem to be breathing.

Perhaps it was especially difficult for him to be anywhere in proximity to her. She pushed Minnie ahead of her, gently nudging her along so she would reach the buggy first. She’d worried over this moment all night long, whenever dreams would pull her from her sleep, taunting dreams of Shane’s smile, his dimples, the snap of aliveness she’d felt in his presence. Regret had chased her all night long, keeping her sleep fitful and dawn a welcome release. She’d risen out of bed, dreading each step she took, each word to her sisters, every bite at the breakfast table because it led her all inexorably here to this unstoppable moment as he helped Minnie into the buggy’s backseat and then held out his gloved hand.

Memories of that hand in hers mocked her. Worse, he gazed past her, as if she didn’t exist to him. Much
worse than she’d anticipated. She didn’t have to worry about meeting his gaze and being reminded of his words last night. She ignored his hand and clamored into the buggy of her own accord, settling her skirts and reaching for the lap robe before he could help.

You can be tougher than this, Meredith.
She set her chin, focused her gaze forward, aware of his hesitation, so near to her she could hear him breathe. His gaze scorched her, raking the side of her face like a touch. If she turned and dared to face him, would she see regret softening the rugged angles of his handsome face? Or would she see his disdain?

His opinion of you doesn’t matter,
she told herself, curling her fingers tightly around the hem of the robe. She was independent. She should not need any man’s regard, and it irked her beyond all reason that his opinion did matter. Somehow the air turned colder, the morning less bright as he took a silent step away and settled with a creak of leather onto the front.

“What about the roads?” Minnie scooted forward and laid her arms against the back of his seat. “Are we going to get stuck again?”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” came Shane’s reply, warm and friendly as he gathered Sweetie’s reins. “The snow is too wet for the sleigh and the road is too soft for the wheels. It ought to be interesting.”

“I trust you.” Minnie grinned at him, flashing her adorable dimples. “I know you’re a really good driver. I can tell because Papa hired you.”

“Then I’ll try not to let you or your papa down.” Shane released the brake and gave the thick leather straps a careful slap. The old gray mare stepped out
into the yard, eager to lift her nose to the flyaway snowflakes tumbling from the sky. An arctic wind fluttered her mane and ruffled the edges of the lap robe, letting in a cold blast of air.

“That’s good, because I don’t want to be late. I have a spelling test this morning and I can’t miss it,” Minnie chattered on. “I really worked hard and I know every word perfectly.”

“You do?” Shane seemed interested in a kindly, brotherly way.

If Meredith didn’t have her heart set against him, then she would have liked how he treated her little sister.

“It’s the very first time I have studied so hard.” Minnie swiped snow from her eyes. “I always pretend to study, but Mama keeps getting really mad at my grades. I have to go to finishing school in two years, and my marks are abysmal. That’s what Mama says. I don’t think they are all that bad. I would rather be riding horses than sitting in school.”

“That’s the way I felt, too, shortcakes. I finished school first, and
then
I started working with horses.” He turned his attention to the road ahead of them, the half-frozen mud clutching the buggy wheels like glue. The old mare struggled, lowering her head to dig in with all her might.

“You called me shortcakes.” Minnie’s grin stretched from ear to ear. She knocked the snow accumulating on her pink cap. “How come?”

“’Cuz you’re cute and you’re sweet.”

“I am?” Pleased, her grin went dazzling. No doubt
about it, in a few years she would be breaking more than a few young men’s hearts.

“I would appreciate it if you were not so familiar with my sister.” That cool voice could only belong to Meredith. How he could ever have mistaken her for a sweet country miss was beyond him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know she had her chin up and a regal look on her beautiful face.

“The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree?” he asked.

With a gasp, she fell silent. He gave thanks for the whipping wind and thick snow sailing into the buggy. He had his opinion on many things, such as a fancy summer buggy being used for winter driving, but he kept his tongue. He tried to convince himself it didn’t hurt that she obviously didn’t like him. As he guided the mare down the snowy landscape, doing his best to guess where the higher ground beneath the snow might be, he felt her disregard like the beat of the wind.

Admit it. You don’t like disliking her.
He’d been captivated by the country beauty in the road yesterday, but what he’d told Braden was also true. These days he was a working man, not his father’s son, and pretty debutantes like Miss Meredith Worthington had to stay out of his reach. He’d learned his lesson about debutantes the hard way. His brief fiancée, Patricia, had only cared about having material things and more of them than her friends, and he did not want to go down that path again. Regardless of how beautiful Meredith was or how fascinating, she was not the kind of woman who could capture his heart.

Not that he was looking for one.

The mare heaved, struggling with the weight she pulled. The ground was not fully frozen, and mud sucked at the wheels, making the going rough. Without a word of reassurance for the fine Worthington girls in the backseat, he hopped out of the buggy to lighten the load and gripped the icy trace. He walked beside Sweetie the rest of the way to town, glad to be battling snow and the road instead of thoughts of Miss Meredith and her cool disdain.

The school’s bell tower could be seen from the town of Angel Falls’s main street, rising like a ghost above the two-story buildings and playing peekaboo through the veils of snowfall. Meredith thought of her friends and wondered if they would already be gathered in the schoolhouse, or would Providence be with her and she would arrive first so that no one would be able to notice the new driver. Watching the stiff line of his back and the way he purposefully ignored her had not put her in a pleasant mood. She wondered if she should ask him if she could help, too, but could not summon up the will to speak to him. If only she was as tough as she wished to be.

They turned the corner and the schoolyard came into view. Well-bundled students marched along the streets. Horses and vehicles clogged the roadway as parents dropped off their children for the day. Screams and shouts rose like shrill music as snowball fights dominated the well-covered lawn, gangs of girls clustered together to laugh and share news, and the first series of bells tolled from the tower.

“Shane is a really good driver.” Minnie clutched
the lap robe and shivered in the cold. “We didn’t get stuck once and we got here really fast. Ooh, look, there’s Maisie.” She leaned over the side to wave at her friend.

Not only was he a good driver, but he was kind to their dear mare. His soothing tone, his care when she struggled, the way he laid a hand on her neck when a snowball from the schoolyard flew into her path all spoke well of him. She’d paid attention to the way he’d handled the horse all the way to town, realizing that as a driver he had done so much more than hold the reins and tug on them now and then. It bothered her greatly that she could learn much from him, the one man she did not ever want to talk to.

Sweetie stopped in front of the school. Finally. Meredith hopped down, not bothering to wait for the new driver’s assistance, and slung her book bag over her shoulder. She did not require his assistance. Her dignity may still be smarting, but he did not seem the least bit affected. He stepped away from her and gave Minnie his attention.

“Meredith!” Fiona waved, trudging through the snow, her lunch pail swinging from one red-mittened hand, her book bag from the other. “I just finished blanketing Flannigan. Could you believe all the vehicles stuck on the road? I didn’t think you would make it.”

“We have a new driver who is surprisingly competent.” Surely Shane could hear her. He was merely feet behind her, helping Minnie from the buggy, so close the hair on the back of her neck tingled.

“So I see.” Fiona, happily engaged, glanced curiously
at the hooded figure who was mantled with snow. “Oh, he’s good-looking.”

“Is he? I thought so when I first met him, but then I changed my mind.” He was beyond what a sane woman would call handsome; he was magnificent. The steady strength, the quick world-changing grin added to his gentle manner would make the toughest female look twice. But she could not bear to let him think she thought him so fine.

“Isn’t he your type?” Fiona asked. “Handsome, rugged, very manly?”

“My type?”
Please, don’t let him have heard that, Lord.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Shane handing Minnie her lunch pail with a big brother’s kindness. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He
had
heard her.

“Oh, he’s all right,” she said, letting her voice lift on the wind, knowing full well Shane could hear her. “But he’s not fine enough to interest me.”

“Meredith! What a thing to say, and I think he heard you.” Dear gentle Fiona was shocked. She skidded to a halt, jaw dropped, eyes wide with a sad censure. “I’ve never known you to be mean before.”

“I—” The excuses died on her lips. Cold quivered through her, burrowing deep into her bone marrow and further, as if into her soul. She’d only meant him to know that she hadn’t been thinking about romance, that she hadn’t been hoping he was interested in her. She wanted him to know that he’d hurt her, but the words had come out wrong, and now she’d made matters worse.

The man drove her crazy.

Shane’s gaze fastened on hers, holding her prisoner as time stilled. Snowflakes tangled in her lashes, but she could not break away from the compelling mix of hurt and sadness darkening the wondrous blue of his eyes. She could feel his emotions as clearly as her own. It was the oddest sensation. The connection they’d forged upon first sight remained, but it was wounded, no longer light and full of laughter but of something grave.

I’m sorry,
she wanted to say, but before she could, he broke away. The wind gusted and the snow fell harder as if even God were ashamed and trying to steal him from her sight.

“Fiona! Meredith!” Scarlet Fisher emerged from the storm, her bag swinging from her shoulder, her beautiful red hair dusted with snow from her walk through town. “Who was that?”

“Nobody.” The word was out before she could stop it. Meredith drew her scarf over her face. She could hide her humiliation from her friends, but not from herself. How could she have done such a thing?

“He’s almost as handsome as Lorenzo.” Scarlet shook the snow from her knit cap and fell into stride alongside them. Snowballs flew over their heads and little kids darted into their path as they waded through the yard toward the schoolhouse’s front steps. “Is he Eli’s replacement?”

“He must be,” Fiona replied, “although Meredith doesn’t seem to like him.”

“What’s not to like?” Scarlet asked. “Did you see his shoulders? He looks like a hero out of a novel.”

“You always say that.” Fiona rolled her eyes, although
she was smiling. Ever since she had become engaged at Christmastime, she had been a lot happier. It was good to see. “Sometimes men like that are even real.”

What they needed was to change the subject, Meredith decided and took charge of the situation. “Did either of you figure out the last math problem in our homework assignment?”

“Who cares about our homework?” Scarlet grabbed Meredith’s hand, staring in the direction of the school steps. “Lorenzo.”

Sure enough, Lorenzo Davis stood off to the side, chatting with a few of his close friends. Their nemesis, Narcissa Bell, was easy to spot as she laid a possessive hand on Lorenzo’s arm, as if staking claim.

Fiona said something, words lost in the wind and snow and the fuzz in Meredith’s brain. Of all the sounds in the school yard, it was a single note of baritone, low and gentle, that rumbled to her ears. It was Shane speaking to the old mare, encouraging her through the combination of deep mud and spots of ice the busy road had turned to.

The snowfall hid him, but she could picture him perfectly, his straight impressive posture, powerful and so caring as he walked alongside the mare. Other horses neighed in frustration, other drivers shouted in exasperation, and even a whip crack or two snapped out. But Shane’s comforting voice did not show impatience or frustration or cruelty.

You do not like him, Meredith.
She stared at the ground where the snow grabbed at her shoes and her ruffled hem, sick with regret. She’d never been so disappointed in herself. Had he taken her words to heart, the
way she had his? Or was he tougher, able to disregard the hurtful comments from a girl he’d found less than worthy?

From a girl who had just sounded extraordinarily like her mother. The realization punched through her like a physical blow. Her knees weakened, shock rolled through her and she’d never felt so bad. One thing was for certain: Shane Connelly brought out the worst in her.

Perhaps it was her duty to bring out the best.

“Meredith.” A sneering voice broke into her thoughts, a familiar and unfriendly voice. Narcissa Bell gave her perfect blond ringlets a toss. “I heard your father hired a new horse trainer. When my father was looking for a new trainer, he had considered the same man but found someone much better. Too bad your papa couldn’t afford to do the same.”

“Leave her alone.” Scarlet, fearless as always, shouldered up to Narcissa hard enough to knock her back a step. “You ought to be more careful. Your jealousy is showing.”