Rexanne Becnel (17 page)

In the gloomy recesses of the carriage, Lacie tried ineffectually to untangle the damp length of her long thick hair and to smooth the rain-splattered bombazine of her skirt. But her eyes did not stray from the unyielding posture of Dillon’s broad back. Nor did she try to wipe away even one of the hot tears that streamed down her pale, stricken face.

M
RS. GUNTER DUSTED THE
marble-top table with a generous handful of flour, then plopped the twice-risen bread dough onto it. With a deftness come of many years experience, she flipped the dough several times before she commenced to knead the fragrant, elastic mass.

Lacie followed Mrs. Gunter’s motions intently, staring as the cook neatly divided the dough into four equal portions, expertly shaped them, and placed each one into a bread pan.

If only she could divide her confused feelings for Dillon so easily, Lacie brooded as she watched the cook. On the one hand, she knew she had no real right to Sparrow Hill. It was Dillon’s, and she was both a liar and a thief to try to take it. But on the other hand, he didn’t really want the school at all, only the money he thought he could get for selling it. Worse, he might go so far as to ruin Frederick’s memory by revealing his dead brother’s shameful secret. Although he hadn’t threatened to do so outright, how could she be sure that he wouldn’t go that far?

Yet despite all her worries, she could not prevent herself from mooning over him endlessly. What on earth possessed her? With furrowed brow and pursed lips, she followed Mrs. Gunter’s movements intently until the other woman stopped abruptly and placed her flour-stained fists on her hips.

“What is going on here,
Fräulein?
I never see you watch me so close. You wish to learn to bake
Brötchen?
”

Lacie jerked her eyes up to the cook’s face, unable to prevent the guilty blush that crept into her cheeks.

“Perhaps—perhaps I should. My cooking ability is sadly lacking.”

But Mrs. Gunter only frowned and shook her head, clearly unconvinced. “You want to cook, I teach you to cook. You want to talk”—her florid face softened—“then I will listen.”

Lacie stared at Mrs. Gunter for a long, indecisive moment. She probably did need to talk, for she was sorely confused after that scene with Dillon the previous day. But she was not in a mood to hear the older woman’s fancifully romantic advice regarding Dillon Lockwood. Marriage was the last thing on his mind—and on hers too.

With an effort she drew a calming breath.

“I don’t know what to do about that man.” She quickly raised her hand to forestall the eager reply she sensed the cook was preparing. “Don’t talk to me of marriage to such a man. Even if I were willing—which I’m not—he is hardly casting about with such honorable intentions. No”—she shook her head adamantly—“your idea might work in one of your sweet German fairy tales, but not here. Not with him and me.”

Although Mrs. Gunter said nothing, only raising her gray brows curiously, Lacie knew she’d not completely convinced her. Nervously she reached across the baker’s table and picked up a small remnant of uncooked dough. “He says I’m a liar,” she said in explanation. “And since I’m a liar—and a thief in his eyes—I don’t warrant any polite consideration.” Her blush deepened to discuss such a private matter, but she pushed on. “That’s why marriage is out of the question.”

“Hm.” Mrs. Gunter stared at Lacie. Then she picked up a blue and white linen cloth and draped it over the four loaves of bread. “You say you think he won’t consider marriage—”

“He won’t!”

“Sh, sh, sh. Let me talk. Now.” She wiped the flour off her hands then sat down on a ladder-backed chair. “How do you feel about marriage to him?”

“That’s too ridiculous to even answer!”

“
Ach
, just humor an old woman,
Liebchen.
Would you find Mr. Lockwood an acceptable husband?”

Lacie did not want to answer that question, for she knew her emotions were too muddled where Dillon Lockwood was concerned. Yet Mrs. Gunter clearly awaited an answer, and Lacie knew she needed to unburden herself.

“On the surface,” she began in a resigned tone, “on the surface he is agreeable. Certainly he seems to attract women to him,” she added tartly.

“Oh? And what women could that be? Besides you, of course,” the cook said with a knowing smile.

“All those girls in town,” Lacie blurted out. Then as Mrs. Gunter’s smile deepened, she added more defensively. “And you! You’re obviously quite taken with him yourself. Why else do you constantly bring up that absurd idea of marriage to him?”

“Humph. Because you haven’t got any better idea. Besides, I think you are the one most taken with him.
Ja
”—she nodded her head sagely—“you like him. If you did not, you would send him away.”

“He won’t go!”

He
wouldn’t
go, Lacie told herself later. He wouldn’t go, and there was no way she could make him.

Yet she hadn’t tried very hard to make him go, she had to admit. She hadn’t exactly ordered him away. She had hoped that after he examined all Frederick’s papers and files, he would graciously concede the school to her and go back to Denver without too much trouble. But it was clear he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. She hadn’t helped her cause at all, either, with her own foolish actions. She’d gone riding with him. She’d gone to the Founder’s Day festivities with him. She’d even let him kiss her. Not just once, but twice.

And worst of all, she’d kissed him back.

A small moan escaped her lips at the thought of how wantonly she had responded to his beguiling kiss. Even the memory of it heated something deep in her belly, and in impatience she jumped up from the armless rocker she’d been sitting in.

She’d been acting like a silly schoolgirl, she thought as she paced the small parlor, not like a mature woman with numerous responsibilities. She should not be worrying about his kisses. His terrible accusations about Frederick were of much more importance. Could he prove she had never been legally married to Frederick? More important, would he go so far as to ruin his half-brother’s good name in such a despicable manner?

In agitation she bit at a fingernail. Then she determinedly balled her hand into a fist. She would have to force the issue and see. She would have to tell him to leave. He had no further reason to stay. Besides, it wasn’t proper for him to be staying in the big house with her. Yes, she would tell him to go.

Lacie steeled herself to her task, unwilling to deal with a thought that lurked just beyond her decision.

If he left, she would never see him again.

Good. That’s exactly what she wanted.

Then again, he might not go, despite what she did.

Yes, he would. He had no reason to stay. Why, he might already realize that despite his threats, this was a useless endeavor on his part. After all, she did have the marriage license. And as for what he’d said about Frederick, that was only talk. He couldn’t prove anything. Yes, she thought with a small sigh of relief, even now he could be planning to leave.

Lacie halted before the heavy wine-colored drapes and stared through the lace sheers out past the deep porch. He could be planning to leave. Although it was what she wanted, a wave of unwarranted panic coursed through her. In a moment she was out of the parlor, hurrying down the hall, then quickly across the porch.

Fool, fool, fool! she berated herself as she tried to slow her frantic pace toward the huge barn. Why must I seek him out this way?

Yet she could not make herself turn back. When she finally entered the barn, she was quite out of breath and completely flustered.

“How do, Miz Lacie.” Leland bobbed his head obligingly as he led two horses down the stable aisle. “If you want a horse saddled, I can get to it in just a minute.”

Lacie looked around the barn, then sighed wearily. “Thank you, Leland. I don’t think I’m quite up for a ride today.” Then when he led the horses up to the carriage, her brow creased in concern.

“What are you doing? Where are you going with the carriage?”

“Mr. Lockwood, he’s sendin’ me to pick up his friend at the station in Kimbell.”

“A friend of his?” Lacie said in surprise. “A friend of his is arriving at the station? Who is it? And why is he coming here?”

Leland looked over at her and shrugged, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. He backed first one horse and then the other into the traces, then methodically buckled the harness in place. “Mr. Lockwood, he didn’t tell me nothin’. Only to git the carriage ready and be in Kimbell for the two-oh-five train.”

“Mr. Lockwood told you that, did he?” Lacie placed her fists on her hips and stared hard at Leland. When the old man only ducked his head and doggedly kept on working, however, her irritation turned to anger.

“Well, you can just unharness those horses. If he wants to send
my
horses and
my
carriage and
my
stableman on an errand, he had just better ask me first!”

At her outburst, Leland straightened up, staring at her in confusion. Then his eyes moved beyond her, and Lacie turned at once.

“Is there a problem?” Dillon walked toward them in long easy strides. He neither hurried nor hesitated. He neither smiled nor frowned. He was as contained as always, showing no emotion save that damnably cool composure.

Lacie, however, found it almost impossible to appear unaffected by his sudden nearness.

“Why do you have Leland going into Kimbell?” she asked him angrily.

“To pick up Neal Camden.”

The name meant nothing to Lacie, yet she felt a moment of sudden panic. What was he up to now? Still, she could not back down. “I presume you’re bringing this person here?”

“Certainly.” He stopped before her. He was too close for comfort, but she refused to be intimidated.

“You are taking far too many liberties around here, Mr. Lockwood.”

“Dillon,” he corrected with a faint, knowing smile.

“Mr. Lockwood,” she retorted firmly, “I would like to remind you that this is
my
home. Mine. I would appreciate it if you would consult with me before issuing any orders to Leland or any of the others under my employ.”

At that he cocked one of his brows and smiled at her. “I don’t really think you want to open that debate in front of Leland, do you, Lacie?” At her angry scowl and her guilty glance at the old servant who openly gaped at them both, he laughed softly. Without warning he took her arm and firmly turned her around. “Finish up, Leland. Mr. Camden is in a big hurry to get here.” Then without even asking her leave, he pulled her along with him.

“Let go of me!” Lacie muttered furiously. “Who do you think you are?”

“Never lose your temper in front of the servants,” he responded, not slowing his pace a bit. “You should know better.”

“Don’t lecture to me!” she hissed. “You have no right to order Leland around. Or—or even to be here!”

“Oh?” He stopped then and turned to face her. “We both know that’s not true.”

With an angry shrug she pulled from his grasp, but she was still held captive by the piercing quality of his eyes. She
did
know it wasn’t true, and so did he. But she could never admit it.

“You don’t belong here,” she insisted. “Why don’t you just leave? You hate this place.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Lacie.” He smiled, then reached out to graze her chin with one finger. “I like…” His gaze slowly moved from her wide gray stare down to her lips, then boldly took in every aspect of her feminine form. She might not have been well-covered in starched white cotton and stiff black sateen, so avidly did he seem to drink in her image. “I like it here very much.”

Lacie was not prepared for her intense reaction to his light touch and softly spoken words. No reply came to her mind, no swift words of retort rose to her lips. Yet in every other way, her body leaped in violent response to him. Her heart thundered in her chest; color stained her cheeks with a becoming flush. Even her breath quickened as they stared at each other. But most alarming of all was the disturbing tightness curling up in her belly. She should not respond to him like this, and yet there was no preventing the terrible longings he inspired in her.

In self-preservation she took a step back from him, then another. “You hate it here,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes still locked with his. “You’re only staying to cause trouble.” She took a shaky breath. “Why don’t you leave?”

The air between them crackled with emotion as the silence stretched taut. His face was serious as he spoke.

“I’ll leave, but in due time. And not just yet.” He paused. “Not yet.”

In polite conversation his simple words would have been almost unworthy of note. Yet spoken in this situation, they could have been either warning or promise, a threat of trouble to come or a triumphant prediction. Lacie did not want to speculate as she stared at his lean masculine features. Unnerved by his steady perusal of her, she struggled for words.

“Who—who is this person, this man coming to see you?”

“Neal is a business associate of mine. He’s a very perceptive attorney. My right-hand man, you might say.” His face softened in a faint smile. “I’m sure you’ll like him.”

“I doubt it,” Lacie muttered. She looked away from his discerning gaze to where Leland had finished harnessing the carriage team. “And how long does he plan to stay?”

“As long as it takes.”

He was trying to scare her, Lacie thought as she peered warily at him. His ominous-sounding words were just that, only words. Yet a decided quiver snaked up her back. He was up to something, but what?

Lacie was suddenly sorry she had ever sought him out, and she wondered at her deplorable behavior in doing so. Her brow creased in an unwilling frown. “If you wish to linger in this area, there is a hotel in Kimbell that will accommodate both you and your friend.”

“There’s plenty of room here.”

“But I don’t want you here!” she insisted.

“Oh, yes, you do.”

Those soft sure words were her final undoing. With a small cry of frustration, Lacie turned away from his arrogant taunt and hurried back toward the house.