Kissing in the Dark (6 page)

“And the pretty girl gets the new boy in town.” He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “I see you’re not saving that pretty smile for your daddy and your uncles anymore.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she shot an embarrassed look at her father.

Instead of smiling, Radford wore a puzzled look, as if Rebecca’s shiny black hair had just turned orange.

Evelyn poked Duke’s ribs and pulled Rebecca free. “Don’t start on her. She gets enough grief from her two brothers.” She brushed Rebecca’s thick braid behind her shoulder. “Would you bring the plates out?”

With a look of gratitude, Rebecca raced inside.

Duke scowled at Evelyn. “You ruined a perfectly good bout of teasing,” he complained.

She looked unmoved. “I know what it’s like to be outnumbered by nasty little boys.”

“I was never little.”

She laughed and picked up the jar of balm. “What is this?”

“Love balm. I rub it on a woman and she falls madly in love with me.”

She plunked the jar down beside him. “What a waste. Every woman in town already loves you.”

“Not the pretty widow who made this balm,” he said, nodding at the jar. “One Faith Wilkins just opened a greenhouse in Colburn’s old gristmill. I stopped in to . . . welcome her to town, and for some reason that made her nervous.”

“Maybe she’s hiding a criminal in her house,” William said— so sincerely Duke didn’t dare laugh at his nephew.

“I worried about that, too, Will, so I went right inside her greenhouse and looked around. Didn’t find a thing but herbs and flowers in there.”

“Maybe she’s a witch,” the seven-year-old whispered, wide eyes blinking.

“You know, she did have a big cauldron in the greenhouse. She didn’t seem like a witch, though, and she’s awfully pretty.”

William’s nose scrunched. “Oh. Well, witches have boils and warts and—”

“William, tell your brother and sister to come eat.” His mother gave him a gentle nudge toward the door, then went to sit by Duke’s mother. “I can’t imagine why your barging into her greenhouse would have made the lady nervous,” she said to Duke.

“I didn’t barge in,” he replied, crossing the porch and seating himself opposite her.

Radford followed, and Joshua, William, and Rebecca hurried outside. Everyone sat at the table and started eating.

Evelyn bit into a biscuit, but her green eyes sparkled with mischief.

Duke lowered his chicken leg. “What?”

His brother’s wife chewed like she had all evening to enjoy that one bite.

“What?” he prodded. He knew that look in her eyes. The last time she’d directed it at him, she’d hung his boots from the top of her oak tree. She was half his weight, and had climbed to the very top of the tree where the limbs were as skinny as toothpicks. He’d nearly broken his neck retrieving the damn things.

Evelyn ignored him. “Mother, would you like to go with me tomorrow to welcome Faith Wilkins to town?”

“Of course,” Duke’s mother said, making him groan. He wanted to warn her to stay away, but his mother was short and sassy and the last woman he would cross. “I’ll take a jar of preserves to welcome her.”

“And I’ll take a plate of the cookies I just baked.” Evelyn hooked her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Sweetheart, would you watch the children tomorrow while I go meet this pretty widow who has snared your uncle’s interest?”

Like mother like daughter; Rebecca’s eyes sparkled. “Of course, Mama. I owe Uncle Duke a favor.”

He flicked a biscuit crumb at Evelyn. “You’re ruining my niece.”

“I’m teaching her that turnabout is fair play”

Radford tossed his napkin onto his plate and leaned back in his chair. “Save your breath, Duke. When the ladies set their minds to something, the boys and I clear out.”

Evelyn patted Radford’s thigh. “You poor, mistreated man.”

He sighed dramatically and looked down into her upturned face. “To think I’ll spend the rest of my life being treated like this . . .” He trailed off, the warm look in his eyes saying everything. He was a man in love, a man in awe of all he had.

Duke had witnessed their private exchanges many times during the eight years of their marriage, and the intensity of their passion made him yearn for what they had. Kyle had found that passion with Amelia. Boyd had found it with Claire.

But what made that passion ignite and burn between two people was still a mystery to Duke.

Chapter 6

After lunch, Faith was in the bathhouse pumping water into the tub when three women walked through the open greenhouse door, chatting gaily and bearing . . . gifts? Surely not. The oldest and shortest of the three spotted Cora playing by the door and gave her a friendly wave.

“Let’s hope they’re customers,” Faith said to Iris, who’d been helping her fill the bathtub. She brushed drops of water off the long apron covering her dress, then headed toward the front of the greenhouse with Iris, giving them her warmest smile. “May I help you ladies?”

“I’m Nancy Grayson, and these are my daughters-in-law Evelyn and Claire,” the older woman said, giving Faith a jar of preserves, but her gaze was riveted on Iris. Faith was used to the surprised, intrigued stares cast at Iris, but it made her sad each time it happened. Iris was exotic and beautiful, a rare bird that drew attention with every move. Iris didn’t seem to mind the looks, but she must: she was a woman disconnected from her family and her people, too different to blend in anywhere.

“My son, Sheriff Grayson, said you opened a greenhouse, but I wasn’t expecting anything this grand,” Mrs. Grayson continued, shifting her gaze to the plants as if she realized she’d been gawking.

Faith’s stomach plummeted. Had Sheriff Grayson sent them to spy on her? Or had he sent them here to look her over? She’d seen the spark of interest in his eyes yesterday. And maybe Iris had fanned that spark. Blast the woman! She should have never told the sheriff Faith was looking for a husband. They’d planted that ridiculous notion in Faith’s own head too, and now she was acting like a suspicious goose.

But she wished she looked better. She smoothed her skirt, sopping wet at the hem from working in the bathhouse, then hid her hands behind her back because her fingernails were green from pinching stems all morning.

The two younger women were of nearly the same height and dressed in neat, pressed frocks. Evelyn was dark-haired, and Claire was blond, and both were beautiful.

Nancy Grayson’s too-direct gaze made Faith want to shy away, but the remarkable youthful energy that radiated from the woman was surprisingly familiar. The sheriff possessed that same directness and intensity

The blond woman, Claire, handed Faith a deep pot. “I thought you might appreciate not having to cook this evening. I hope you like venison stew.”

Faith would gladly toil over a stove if she had money to buy food.

“And I brought a treat for after supper,” Evelyn said, giving a plate of cookies to Cora.

Cora scrambled to her feet and gawked at the mound of oatmeal cookies. “Can I eat one, Mama?”

To refuse the cookies would be rude, and to refuse Cora a treat would be unkind. But Faith hesitated to accept their gifts not knowing the ladies’ motives.

“Of course you can eat a cookie.”

Iris pulled the heavy pot from Faith’s hands and lifted it to her nose. “Smells divine,” she said, then winked at Faith. “Let’s not wait for supper. Let’s eat it right now.”

Her teasing made the three women laugh. “Thank you, ladies,” Faith said, striving to appear as relaxed as the Grayson women even as worry flooded her mind. “This is my aunt, Iris . . . Wilde,” she said, silently cursing Iris for blabbing the name in front of the sheriff and locking them into using it.

“There are four of us here with that last name, so call me Iris.”

The younger ladies nodded politely, but Nancy took a bold, sweeping look around the greenhouse. “What is all this?”

“Let me put this on the counter,” Iris said, “then Faith and I will show you what we’re growing here.”

“I’ll show ‘em!” Cora declared, rushing up with a half-eaten cookie in her hand. She looked up at Evelyn Grayson. “You make good cookies.”

The simple, sincere statement filled the brunette’s eyes with tenderness. She opened her hand to Cora. “What should we see first?” she asked.

Cora led Evelyn to a flat of chives that were poking through the soil. “We’re gonna eat those when they get bigger,” she said.

Faith followed, feeling proud of Cora’s knowledge, but she gently took over, wanting the Grayson ladies to see how much her greenhouse had to offer. While Cora charmed them, Faith and Iris answered Nancy’s questions about their business. Iris’s good behavior relieved Faith, but Nancy’s avid curiosity made her stomach queasy.

“Quite impressive,” the woman said, touching and sniffing everything until Cora scolded her and warned her she could go blind. Nancy chuckled, but she continued asking questions in a forthright manner that convinced Faith the sheriff had sent his mother to snoop.

Faith showed them the herbs, vegetables, and flowers, then guided the ladies to the front counter where she kept her jars, bags, and tins of herbs and balms.

Aster and Tansy were working near the counter, preparing a flat of baby tomato plants for transplanting to their garden. Faith wasn’t sure she could trust her aunts to behave, but they had to begin settling into their new town. “Come meet these lovely ladies,” she suggested.

The pair washed their hands in a bucket of water, then dried them on their aprons as they walked to the counter.

“This is Evelyn and Claire Grayson, the sheriff’s sisters-in-law,” Faith introduced. “And his mother, Nancy.”

Cora puffed up with importance. “Aunt Iris says Mama’s going to marry the sheriff.”

Faith nearly choked, but Nancy Grayson laughed.

“Who brought those delicious cookies?” Aster asked.

It allowed Faith a moment to recover. Living her life behind a brothel and learning everything from books had filled her head with knowledge of trees and herbs and flowers. She could name every muscle in the body, but she didn’t know how to navigate through an ordinary conversation.

“Evelyn baked them,” Nancy said. “Claire made the stew. You’ll soon see why I’m glad my sons married these gals.”

Aster nudged Faith’s arm. “Marry the sheriff so we can claim our place at this woman’s supper table.”

Faith wanted to clap her hand over her aunt’s mouth, but the Grayson women laughed. Nancy and Aster exchanged a look of frank appreciation. Aster had a harder, grittier edge than Nancy, but they were two of a kind with their plainspoken manner.

Iris handed Nancy a small jar of lavender oil. “Let us return your gifts by giving you a peek at the other side of our business.”

Faith shook her head, but Iris ignored her and upended an empty metal pail. “Tansy, round up a couple more buckets for the ladies.”

Tansy hurried off in a swish of skirts.

“Iris, we’ve kept the ladies too long already,” Faith said, warning Iris not to cause trouble like she had with Sheriff Grayson. “I’m sure they have to get back to their families.”

“Oh, I hope not.” Iris clasped her hands in front of her like an excited girl. “Say you’ll stay for a few minutes and let us treat you to something special.”

“You’ll love it,” Aster added, nodding for Nancy to sit on the bucket.

“All right. Why not?” Nancy Grayson sat her small, slightly plump body on the pail. “What do I do now?”

“Close your eyes,” Iris ordered, moving to stand behind her.

Faith wrung her hands. “Aunt Iris, please.”

“To be surprised at my age is an immense pleasure,” Nancy said. “Let her be.” With that, she shut her eyes, and Faith shut her mouth.

“This is best done with oil and herbs, but you can still enjoy it this way.” Iris pushed the pads of her thumbs into the flesh between Nancy’s shoulder blades. “There is an art to massage,” Iris explained, her voice smooth and mesmerizing as she rubbed slow, small circles on Nancy’s back.

The woman’s shoulders lowered and her head sagged forward. “I’m gaining a new appreciation for art,” she said.

Evelyn and Claire exchanged a sisterly grin, as if seeing a side of their mother-in-law they hadn’t known.

Iris worked Nancy’s trapezius muscle between her thumb and index finger, relaxing the muscle one delicate pinch at a time. Tansy returned with Dahlia, each of them carrying a bucket. Faith introduced Dahlia to the ladies, but Nancy could barely open her eyes to greet her.

She moaned and hunched her back like a cat. “This old body hasn’t known so much pleasure since my husband was alive.”

Evelyn and Claire laughed, and Faith couldn’t stop her smile. Like Aster, Nancy Grayson’s candor was growing on her.

Tansy overturned a bucket in front of Evelyn. “I’m good at this too.”

Evelyn held out her hands as if to ward her off. “I’m happy to watch my mother-in-law melt off that pail.”

Tansy caught Evelyn’s hand and peered at her palm. “Lord, child, how did you get these calluses?”

“Taking care of a livery full of horses.”

Cora’s eyes goggled. “You have horses?”

“Twelve of them.”

“Can I see ‘em?”

“If it’s all right with your mother.”

“We’ll talk about it later, honey.” Faith put her hand on Cora’s tiny shoulder, her silent way of telling the child to hush, that she was being ill-mannered or inappropriate.

Tansy opened a jar on the counter. “I have something that will make your hands as soft as a baby’s behind,” she said, scooping cream onto her fingers, then slathering it on Evelyn’s hand. “It’s honey, lanolin, almond oil, and wax.”

“It smells wonderful,” Evelyn said.

“It is, dahlin’, now sit down and let me do this properly” Like an obedient child, Evelyn sat on the pail. “We mix mint and lavender in to make it smell good.”

“It’s lovely” Evelyn glanced at her sister-in-law. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Claire.”

The other woman shook her head. “My aching feet are jealous.”

“Not for long.” Dahlia slid a pail behind Claire. “That cream will soften your feet and soothe the ache, too.”