Barefoot Bride by Rebecca Paisley

Author:Rebecca Paisley [Paisley, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780380760190
Publisher: Avon
Published: 1990-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

"So where is she, Sax?" Max asked, his breath frosting in the cold air. "You talk of no one but her, yet I haven't laid eyes on her. It's about damn time I got to meet her."

"Yeah, Sax," Nate said. "We're all anxious to meet the girl about whom we've heard so many... anecdotes."

"Heard she's rather, uh... unusual," Oliver added.

"Unique might be a better word," Kyle ventured.

Charles smirked. "It would appear Saxon has little to say, fellows. After all, what can he add to tales that are already so outrageous?"

Vaguely, Saxon heard them talk, but his mind was on Chickadee. What was she going to do today? he wondered. What sort of havoc would she manage to cause despite his every precaution?

Trying to rationalize the situation, he reminded himself it was only a simple sled race, but he groaned at that thought. Nothing was ever simple when Chickadee was involved. She'd find a way to ruin a padded cell, which was exactly where he belonged for agreeing to attend this race. It just wasn't the right time for her to mingle with society again. He knew well from experience that it was always best to wait for gossip to die down before venturing out into the fashionable world again.

"Hey, Sax," Oliver said. "Didn't I hear your wife has flaming red hair?"

"Not flaming, really," Saxon replied. "It's sort of—"

"Red is red, Sax," Max said, "and the pretty girl skipping this way definitely has red hair."

"What's that thing she's wearing?" Charles asked. "Did you buy that for her, Sax?"

"Most unusual wrap I've ever seen," Kyle observed, squinting to see Chickadee better.

But Saxon's eyes widened. Good God! She was wearing a bearskin rug! When the hell had she made a coat out of it? Dammit, Keely, he moaned to himself. I spend a fortune on the finest, most expensive furs for you, and you wear a damn rug!

"Saxon!" she greeted him gaily. "I hurried as fast as I could. Near about ripped up them fancy underwear thangs a-tryin' to git 'em on. Finally left 'em off on account o' thur so dang scratchy anyhow. But here I am, all ready fer the race!"

Saxon's friends and some others who had just joined the circle gaped at her. Their wide eyes went from the top of her bare head to her boots, already soiled with mud.

"What are all you-uns a-starin' at me fer? Got some sorter menfolk secret betwixt you?"

Max's slight grin broadened to a warm, friendly smile. "Mrs. Blackwell, you've no idea how long I've been waiting to meet you." None too gently, he nudged Saxon.

Jolted back to reality, Saxon quickly made all the introductions. As he introduced Chickadee to the men, he felt a strange irritation when a few of them began to snicker.

"Well," Chickadee said, bending to pick up a handful of snow, "when's the race gwine commence? I'm ready to try and win it. 'Course, it ain't gwine be easy a-settin' on a sled with these dang skirts. I'll have to hike 'em up—"

"The race is for men only, Keely," Saxon interrupted.

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