Then Came You: A Prequel to The McPhee Clan (5 page)

Emotion pricked behind her eyes. She'd never, well,
felt
so much. It didn't help that she'd figured out the truth about Gil, how he felt about her. And she couldn’t let that knowledge change a thing. Maureen would never allow her to be courted, she'd never give her enough time off to date. With a wistful sigh, she thought of the debt she still owed Maureen, not yet half-way paid off. It was a contract that would not end with Maureen's death, which according to the doctor would be sooner rather than later. No, this was a debt Maureen could always sell to the highest bidder or could leave to her heir. Even more likely, the contract would be sold by the attorney to help pay for Maureen's debts and funeral costs, and who knew where she would be forced to go then or who she'd be legally obligated to work for.

So no, it was better not to let her feelings get carried away. Best to be sensible about this. Gently, reluctantly, she pulled away from Gil's side, from his shelter and comfort. It was the sensible thing to do. Best to keep things friendly. That's the way it had to be.

But it wasn't what she wanted. Nothing was harder than shimmying out of Gil's arms and scooting several inches away from him. She let the winds batter her, felt the relentless snow slap and strike her. On the seat beside her, Gil said nothing. He simply switched the reins into both hands and didn't look her way.

Maybe he'd come to the same conclusion, too.

"Here we are." Gil's voice reached out to her. He gestured toward a faint shadow passing overhead. The entrance sign to the ranch. "Almost home. How are you doing?"

"Good." Well, not great, but she didn't want him to know that. Feeling very lonesome on her end of the wagon seat, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep her body heat in. Wasn't working well, since her teeth kept chattering harder. The warmth and comfort she'd felt by his side taunted her.

If she crept over to him, it would be a mistake. The door to her heart stood open, and she had to find a way to close it. Her chest smarted with a deep, unrelenting ache. He fell silent again as they jostled along blindly in the storm. She listened to the sounds of the horses struggling—their heavy breathing, their uneven gait, the protesting squeal of the wagon wheels on the snowy slope. She couldn’t help worrying. What if Gil didn't understand why she'd pulled away? What if he thought she didn't like him and hadn't wanted his comfort?

She choked at the thought, hiding the cough in the icy-crust of her muffler. When she cut her gaze sideways, he sat stoic at his end of the board seat like the tough cowboy he was, head bowed to the storm, determined to get them through. A man anyone could count on. She gave a little wistful sigh.

Why wasn't she stronger than this? Unhappy with herself for wishing for what she could not have, she tried to close that open place in her heart. The place that felt so sore, wished for so much. Gil pulled back on the reins.

"Whoa." The wagon rocked to a stop and the faint, tantalizing glint of lamplight flickered through the pelting snow. "We're home, safe and sound."

"So we are." She recognized the distant tone to his voice, hated that she had put it there. She had to, what choice did she have? Even if Gil
did
like her, if he was a little sweet on her, then she could not encourage him. It wouldn't be right. As much as it hurt, she planted her feet on the floorboards and hauled her partly-frozen, very stiff body upward until she was standing. "Thanks for the ride and the rescue. You make a pretty good pretend beau."

"I'll be happy to step in anytime you need it." He rose up to full height, his hand cupping both her elbows, drawing her forward with him. Closer to him. "Say, at the Montgomery's May Day party. Lawrence is determined when it comes to you."

"I have no idea why he would be. Honestly." She gasped when his hands trailed down her arms like a caress. Even through the layers of wool and cloth, her skin tingled. "There are other single ladies around."

"Not many," Gil corrected, backing to the edge of the wagon and stepping down with a powerful, masculine grace. "If women around here are single, they tend to get snatched up pretty quick."

"Still, a man wouldn't have to pay out a small fortune for them." There, she hoped her message would get across. He stood unblinking with his hat brim back, his bright blue eyes searching hers. As if he understood her meaning, he nodded once, winced as if in acknowledgement.

There. At least he understood what she could not say. She was glad for that. No man, no one, was going to go to such extremes for her.

And she wouldn’t want them to. She bobbed her head, sure of it. Even if the open place in her heart squeezed with feeling, sore with both sadness and gratitude. For a moment back there on the ride home, she'd felt free, unfettered by the contract that dictated her life. Spending time with a man she liked, being held by him. It was a moment to cherish.

But it was over. She placed her hands in his larger ones and stepped down from the wagon. Weightless, she hung suspended in air for one brief moment, aware of his muscled strength as he lowered her toward the ground. Her shoes hit the snowy earth, but her heart felt airborne.

"You need to know something, Maebry O'Riley." Gil tugged at her hood, straightening it to better protect her eyes from the snow. "You would be worth a small fortune. Wait, even a large one."

"No." She blushed at the sincere dip of his words, of how they rumbled with truth and caring. "That's not true, I—"

He leaned in, pulled down an edge of her muffler and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She drew in air, surprised, dazed, confused. Unexpected sweetness, that kiss. The exposed place in her heart she could not close eked open a little more. She'd never dared to let herself dream of this moment, when the crush she had on him turned to something more.

"Just practicing." He re-adjusted her muffler, brushing off snow, tugging it back up. "I mean, we have to make this convincing if we're going to be a pretend couple."

"Isn't that taking it a little far?" Her hands lifted upward without thought, as if aching to land on the impressive span of his chest. She caught herself in time, pulling back. A little wistful, wishing she'd touched him. Instead, she steeled her spine and took a step back. "We don't have to convince everyone."

"Oh, I don't mind." Tender. The timbre of his voice, the curve of his mouth, the glint in his eyes that studied her intently, as if trying to look inside her. "I keep my promises. When I agree to do something, it's one hundred and ten percent."

"That is the problem with you, Gil." Her fingers moved of their own accord, she could not stop them as they landed on his forearm, touching him, connecting with him. "You're a good guy."

"Well, fair to middling." He reached for something behind her. The grocery crate. He tucked it into the crook of his arm, as if it weighed nothing. "We'd better get you in. Can't leave the horses standing in this wind."

"You go on and take care of them." Knowing it was the right thing to do, she wrestled the crate from him. Putting distance between them was the smartest thing to do. "You're right, they've worked up a sweat getting us safely here. They come first. I can see myself to the door."

"What did I just tell you? Remember the one hundred and ten percent thing?" Something mysterious shadowed his eyes, when the rest of him was smiling.

She soaked in the sight of his smile. Crinkles and manly lines, the craggy cut of his cheekbones, the good-guy look of him.
Thud
, went her heart, falling just a little bit more. If she wasn't careful, this crush she felt was going to balloon into doom. So she took a step back, giving him no choice. "Save it for the May Day party, cowboy. I'm an independent lady."

"Except for the indentured thing." His grin dimmed a notch, because he had to know she was rejecting him again. His shoulders went back, as if determined. "You can't be independent and indentured at the same time."

"I was talking about my personality." She rolled her eyes. Was he feeling this way too, as if he didn't want this to end, as if he didn't want to let go?

"You should work on your personality then." Twinkles returned to his eyes. "Might want to rethink that independent thing."

"No, what I'm wanting is more of it." Her shoe found the first porch step and she stumbled up onto it. Drawn to him, wishing she wasn't, she glanced over her shoulder. Big man, bigger personality. She steeled her heart, trying to resist him. "It keeps me safe from men like you."

"Like me?" All innocence, hands on his hips, feet braced, his grin widening. "Well, that's all the proof I need. You're sweet on me, Maebry O'Riley. I knew it."

"You know nothing." She edged up onto the next step, wishing he didn't know the truth. Best to deny it. "I'm not interested in you, Gilbert Blackburn."

"I know what I saw." Teasing her now, but he really wasn't teasing.

"Sorry, but you need glasses, Mister. You saw incorrectly."

"There's nothing wrong with my eyesight. And don't think I'm going to forget about your promises."

"What promises?" Best to feign ignorance than to turn around right now, she thought, slogging across the snowy porch.

"Baked goods," he called out, nothing but a shadow in the white downpour now. "No cold or burned things on my supper plate."

"Hmm, I don't seem to recall making that deal." With a laugh, she shifted the crate to her left arm, balancing it against her side, and turned the door knob. It was simply too easy to joke with him. "You should pay better attention when we talk, Gil. Men simply do not listen."

"Right." The whiskey-smooth cadence of his laughter carried on the wind, as personal as a touch, as soul-melting as his kiss. The wind gusted, stealing him from her sight. But a ribbon of connection remained, something so sweet and bright not even the storm could break it.

You are in big trouble, Maebry
. She bowed her head, gave the knob a twist and stepped into the light and warmth of the Rocking M's kitchen house. Once the original homestead, it was now headquarters for all the ranch's cooking. Three meals a day were prepared for the three dozen cowboys that lived and worked on the Rocking M.

The minute she closed the door behind her, she felt the laughter within her dim. For a moment, she'd forgotten herself again, laughing with a guy she liked, feeling cozy because he seemed to like her back. But she could not be that girl. She set the crate on the nearby counter, unwrapped her muffler and smiled at the other women in the room.

"Goodness, look at you." Aumaleigh rushed across the ranch's warm kitchen, her lovely, heart-shaped face crinkled with concern. In middle-age, Aumaleigh managed to hold onto her beauty, although these days she did look worn from the struggle to take care of her mother. Her blue eyes gentled with concern. "You must be frozen clean through. Come right over here and warm up by the stove. Josslyn, draw up a chair."

"No, I'm fine," Maebry argued, dreading the uproar to come if she wasn't doing her duty by serving Maureen. "Don't bother with me. Not when there's tea to serve."

"Right." Josslyn set a steaming tea kettle on a trivet on the big work table in the center of the large kitchen. Middle age looked good on her too, her red hair was only lightly touched with gray. "You got here just in time. I was just about to brew a pot of her second favorite tea, since it's four o'clock on the dot."

"Whew. Just in the nick of time." Maebry hung up her muffler and unbuttoned her coat. "Oh, I brought her favorite crackers, too."

"Excellent." Josslyn dove into the crate, finding the new tin of tea just as a hand bell rang from an upstairs room. Josslyn frowned. "That would be her."

"I'll get the crackers." Strain paled Aumaleigh's face as she spoke over the bell. "Hurry, Josslyn. Are you sure you want to serve her, Maebry?"

"It's my job, right?" She whipped off her coat, forcing her mind to cut off all thoughts of Gil. To resist searching for him through the whitely hazed window. Whatever she felt for Gil, it was not real life. More like a daydream.

"Aumaleigh, use that plate." Josslyn scrambled to spoon tea leaves into the steeping ball. "Hurry."

"Thanks." Aumaleigh pried open the cracker tin and set several out on the plate, arranging the tray, fetching a sugar bowl and a spoon while Josslyn dropped the ball into the pot and poured the water.

"Sorry about the snow tracks." Maebry rushed across the room a little squishily and grabbed the tray Josslyn shoved at her. The bell jangled again, sharp and insistent. Angry this time.

"Maebry!" An elderly woman scolded from upstairs, her tone irritated and sharp enough to pierce wood. "I hear you down there, you lazy girl. Get up here. Bring my tea."

"Coming!" Maebry dove toward the stairs in the hallway, the teacup rattling in its saucer with every step. She charged upstairs, her pulse
rat-tat-tatting
partly panic because she really didn't want to endure Maureen's wrath, but that wasn't the only reason. In truth her heart hadn't beat normally since Gil had kissed her cheek.

He'd kissed her! It felt as if she'd left her heart behind, out there in the storm with him.

"Hurry up, you!" Maureen reprimanded. "I've had just about enough of waiting for you. Much more of this, and I'll sell your contract to the highest bidder, hire me a maid who can do her duty. I swear I will."

"Sorry, ma'am." Maebry tripped down the hall and into the room, where Maureen lay in bed, propped up by pillows. Her limbs gnarled and wasted, she was a skeleton in fine clothes. A scowling skull.

Sympathy for the dying woman filled her. She set the tray on the bedside table.

"Don't sorry me," Maureen snapped, struggling to lift her one good arm to point a gnarled finger. "You jump when I say jump, and you bring my tea on time. I own you, girl, you do what I say. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." She nodded, dutifully. Maureen wasn't wrong and she had the signed contract to prove it.

Maebry's hand shook as she poured the tea, the steaming, fragrance scenting the room. The fire snapping in the nearby hearth chased away the storm's chill as she stirred in a lump of sugar and held up the cup to Maureen.