The Rancher's Inconvenient Bride by Carol Arens

Author:Carol Arens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Lark Warble? I think not. You may have the man. I’d rather die an old maid than carry that name,” William heard Lark whisper to her sister when he passed the ladies in the hallway.

“I’ll take him. Dove Warble isn’t nearly as bad since doves do not actually warble. Now if his last name was Coo...”

Coming into the parlor he saw Mr. Norman and the unsuspecting Warble sitting before the flameless hearth, heads bent over the checkerboard.

Welcome rain tapped on the parlor window and dropped the temperature by a sudden ten degrees.

Not that the night felt cool, in William’s opinion, but it was more bearable than the day had been.

Going to the windows, he drew them open. Air, fresh with the scent of mud and damp grass, carried inside with the fluttering lace curtain.

He took a deep breath, allowing a flood of peace to rush through him. It had been a stressful day.

With the reception only a week away his mother had been a human whirlwind. Approving one plan and disregarding another, making sure the perfect flowers would be in the perfect place, and finding rooms in town for all her guests.

His mother was in a happy state.

At least she had been until this afternoon when she’d discovered that Pete Lydle was planning a poker tournament for the same day as the reception.

Now she sat in a corner, head to head with Mrs. Norman, speaking quietly. It was good to see her resting for the moment.

Dove approached the chess players, made an admiring comment over Warble’s last move. The man preened under her praise.

William guessed Dove would make him an adequate wife.

Catching the scent of tea rose, William looked toward the doorway to see Agatha walking toward him.

There had been a time when he would have settled for an adequate wife. Now, gazing down at Agatha’s freckled nose, her sun-pinked cheeks, he gave thanks that he had not.

For what, by force, his marriage lacked, he did not regret a thing.

Agatha stood beside him. Turning her back toward the window, she lifted the hair away from her nape. He could not help but steal a glance at the smooth, fair column of her neck.

“Oh, that breeze feels good.”

Glancing up she shot him a quick smile. He was relieved to see it. Like his mother, she had been downcast all afternoon.

“Do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Smile.” A loop of hair slid across her cheek. He wound it about his thumb, taking the moment to appreciate the petal-like texture. He truly did enjoy touching her hair. It was something he could do, a way to touch her, without endangering her with his lust. “I haven’t seen many of those today. From anyone.”

“Folks are not happy that their new sheriff ran off.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised he left town, even with the ladies admiring him so.”

Agatha turned to face him and the silken loop slipped out of his fingers.

“What is it that’s been troubling you? I doubt it’s our runaway sheriff.”

“Not that.” She shook her head.

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