It was dark when they arrived at the Lazy S Ranch. Snow had fallen steadily, lightly, whitening the world and glowing with the moonlight. It muffled the sounds of the evening, cocooned the world in quiet, and gave Daniel a peace in which to calm down. He knew he had been right to bring her here, could not have left the little woman to fend for herself—no matter what she had done.
Emily had long ago succumbed to sleep, and her head had nodded onto Daniel’s shoulder. Accepting she was probably exhausted, he left it there before letting an arm go around her to make her more secure. Her hat had tumbled off, and soft hair the color of spring wheat brushed his nose and tickled him every so often, but he was reluctant to wake her, reluctant to shift her. The celebratory dinner he had planned would not be eaten anyway; certainly there was no longer any celebration to be made. And the bottle of wine he had splurged to buy would have to wait for another evening...an evening that would take a time in coming.
As he reined in the horses by the hitching post in front of the cabin, he sat with her for a moment in his arms. It was something like this for which he had long hungered, but the peace that had settled over him now let anger sweep back in. Dammit, it should have been Ethel, yet it wasn’t. It was Wilfred Darling’s sister, of all people. And for now, she was staying at his ranch.
He maneuvered her gently into his arms and felt around with his boot for the step before finding his footfall and jumping down. Still, she did not wake, and he made his way into the cabin by the light of the moon. He might have been carrying his bride across the threshold, yet he wasn’t—he wouldn’t be doing so for some time if he were honest with himself.
Making his way into the bedroom, Daniel laid Emily down upon the large brass bed—a bed for which he had saved for months—and studied her features as she slept. She was actually quite a lovely little thing, not at all as he remembered her brother, no resemblance whatsoever—assuming it was the same Wilfred Darling he had known at school. If it were, he could well understand her need to escape that bastard. What Wilfred could have done to make her want to take those tickets and come west ran through his mind. He dreaded to think. But he would find out. And maybe he would even kill the proverbial two birds with one stone—one for her…and one for himself.
****
Bacon.
Daniel breathed in again.
Bacon and coffee. Probably eggs as well.
He slid from his horse, the crunch of hard-frosted snow beneath his boots, and led the animal toward the warmth of the barn. The door to the cabin was slightly open, letting the cooking steam out along with the wonderful smells. Daniel peeked in as he walked by, and then stopped. Emily had her back to him as she set the table, cornsilk hair falling in tendrils from its topknot, her tiny figure leaning forward slightly as she placed the knife and fork just so. Curious as to the exactness with which she positioned each item, he stood transfixed beneath the flurries coming down until the horse nickered to remind him it was his feed time as well.
Daniel trudged on into the barn, pondering the care with which she set the table, the precision, the attention she had taken. And then he had the answer.
Wilfred.
She had looked after—served—that ridiculous Wilfred.
With his horse curried and fed, he entered the cabin and tossed his hat on a peg by the door before he met her gaze briefly. “We have to talk.” Though he hadn’t meant it so, his voice came out gruff, but he couldn’t lose control. Things had to be sorted, the situation put to rights. Ethel, there was always Ethel to think of, to consider.
“I know.” Her voice was quiet, measured. “Eat your breakfast first. I assume you went out this morning without so much as a cup of coffee. Please sit. Eat.”
Daniel nodded and strutted to the washstand. He should have removed his wet boots as footsteps marked his way. The broom stood in the corner, recently used no doubt, and now he had dirtied the floor. Over his shoulder, he caught her dismay. “Sorry,” he said somewhat contrite.
She acknowledged his remorse with a single shake of her head. “It’s your house.”
“Yes, but…” His voice trailed off as he lifted the soap and dipped his hands into warm water. She had heated water for his wash and shave.
He concentrated now on scrubbing between his fingers, getting the dirt off his hands, whatever there was from under the gloves he had worn. But he wouldn’t shave, not right now. The smells and his hunger directed him to eat as soon as possible.
“Did you sleep well?” he offered.
“Yes, thank you. But you should not give up your bed to me. I can manage as well as you in the barn.” She stood, her hands now clasped in front of her, patient.
“It’s only for a time. We must talk,” he said again before he pulled out a chair and waited.
Her eyes grew big with surprise, but she stayed where she was. Then he noticed...there was only the one setting.
“You ate?”
“I…no. I…Oh!” She made a sudden dash to the fire where the bacon was smoking. “Ugh. I’m not used to cooking on this fire—”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Whatever you’ve cooked will be far better than anything I’da cooked, I promise. Sit down and eat.”
Daniel strode over to the basket containing his kitchen utensils and fingered through until he found another fork and knife. He held them up to show her, but Emily didn’t move. She stood stock still with the pan-holder, the spatula, and the pan of bacon and eggs. Daniel tossed the cutlery onto the table before stretching up and getting down an extra plate from a cupboard.
“Serve it up and sit and eat.” He grappled with keeping the irritation out of his voice. He wasn’t irritated with Emily; it was her brother who had done this, made her this way. “There is enough for two there.” He tapped the back of the chair he’d pulled out for her. “You’re not a servant here. Sit down.”
There was a momentary hesitation before she briskly served the breakfast. Daniel got the two cups of coffee waiting on the sideboard, placed them by each setting, then waited until Emily had lowered herself somewhat gingerly into the chair, as if it might break under her weight.
He sat and already had his fork filled and in mid-air when he paused. “Do you say grace?”
“No. It’s fine.”
“Good. Then eat, and we’ll talk after.”