A Match Made in Texas by Mary Connealy & Mary Connealy & Regina Jennings & Carol Cox

Author:Mary Connealy & Mary Connealy & Regina Jennings & Carol Cox
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042040, FIC003000, American love stories, Western stories
ISBN: 9781441263414
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2013-12-05T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Clayton hadn’t come in for supper. With movements dulled, Grace returned the clean dishes to the shelf. Lack of sight couldn’t hide Clayton from her. He’d been in the barn, but he hadn’t answered her. While their spats had always been spirited, perhaps he now saw them in a different light. Did he wonder if the family resemblance ran deeper than dark hair and a fair complexion?

And then there was the issue of Mr. Newman. Grace still didn’t understand Clayton’s reaction. She’d hoped he would be pleased that she rejected the man. Either she’d misread the growing intimacy between her and Clayton, possible since she couldn’t see him, or Clayton desperately wanted her married and off his hands. How could she not believe the second?

She wouldn’t go outside again. Better to leave well enough alone.

Judging from the lack of golden squares on the wall, the sun had already set. Grace rubbed her temples. Her eyes stung. Her head throbbed. She hoped it wouldn’t be a sleepless night, but how could she rest knowing Clayton was troubled? Knowing that their time together was so short? She would always wonder what life would’ve been like if Clayton had answered a husband notice instead of one for a hired hand. She should’ve asked him from the first day.

Grace changed into her nightgown and removed the pins from her hair, placing them carefully on the dressing table next to the bed. Could she go with Brian without Clayton’s approval? She climbed into bed and kicked the quilt to the foot, knowing she’d be drenched in sweat in the stuffy room, if she could sleep at all. Instead, she found herself going over every conversation, every discussion she’d had with Clayton. She’d seen the narrow white valley that cut through his brow and cheek, but she’d thought nothing of it. Perhaps seen in its entirety, it was gruesome. But no. Hadn’t Emilie raved about Clayton’s good looks? Hadn’t she described how the ladies noticed him?

But she’d said something else, too. She’d called him bashful. Said that he wouldn’t look her in the face, but as far as Grace could tell, he’d never failed to face her.

Until now.

As long as he thought her blindness covered him, he interacted openly. Now that she knew, he wanted to hide.

She punched her feather pillow up and rolled to her side, afraid of what the morning would bring. Afraid to say good-bye, or even worse, to leave without a good-bye.

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