One Bride Delivered. Jeanne Allan

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СКАЧАТЬ dead,” Cheyenne said, torn between anger and horror. “He misses them terribly.”

      “The boy was eight months old when they died. He doesn’t remember them.”

      The quickly vanquished glimmer of pain in his eyes and the tightly controlled voice gave Cheyenne pause. Was Thomas Steele still grieving? Or denying his grief? She chose her words carefully. “Davy said his father was your brother. I’m sorry. It must be awful to lose a brother.”

      “I don’t want your pity.”

      “Is sympathy for the weak and lazy, too?” The sharp look he gave her should have slashed her to ribbons. Cheyenne ignored it. “If it doesn’t hurt you to talk about your brother, you—”

      “It doesn’t hurt,” he snapped.

      “Then why haven’t you told Davy about his parents? He knows almost nothing. He said your mother won’t talk about them.”

      Cheyenne wondered what Thomas Steele meant by the harsh laugh he uttered. When he said nothing, she persevered. He doesn’t even have a picture of his mother.”

      “The two of you were certainly chatty.”

      It would take more than a forbidding, sarcastic voice to chase her away. “He’s lonely. The baby-sitters you’ve hired tell him to go play or sit quietly and watch TV with them. Do you think that’s what his parents would have wanted?”

      “I have no idea. My brother and I went our separate ways when he married.”

      “Didn’t you like his wife?”

      “I never met her. David didn’t want me to. He was raised to runSteele hotels, not marry one of the maids. He dropped out of college and out of the family.”

      “But if he loved her and was happy...”

      “Love. Happy.” He turned the words into a curse. “Steeles don’t many for love or happiness. They marry for control, power, passion, sex, money and any one of a hundred other reasons, but never for love and happiness.” Turning, he walked over to a huge black-lacquered chinoiserie armoire and opened its doors to disclose a fax machine. Ripping off the long ribbon of white hanging from the machine, he began to read.

      Actions meant to dismiss her. Cheyenne marched across acres of black floral carpet and sat on the curvaceous purple velvet sofa. “You’re a Steele. Is that what you want from marriage?”

      “Disappointed?” Looking up from his papers, his grin mocked her. “Did you think I’d take one look at your frizzy bleached hair and muddy blue eyes and fall hopelessly in love? Forget it Steeles don’t love.”

       “Not even little boys?”

      “Davy gets fed, clothed and schooled. He’ll survive. I did.”

      He’d said the last two words as if they were a badge of honor instead of extremely sad. If they were true. Studies proved people needed love to survive. Thomas Steele had done more than survive. He’d thrived. How convenient to forget those who had loved him, rather than be inconvenienced by his nephew. “Davy needs love and attention,” she said firmly.

      Thomas Steele heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Look, Ms. Lassiter, lay off the lectures. Bringing the boy was a mistake. Unfortunately I’m stuck with him until his grandparents return.”

      Cheyenne traced the patterns in the cut velvet upholstery. “You cared enough about Davy to worry about him being too young for camp.”

      “Don’t read anything into that. You want the brutal truth, Ms. Lassiter? If my brother hadn’t gotten the hots for a pretty face, we wouldn’t have to figure out what the hell to do with the boy he left behind. Steeles raise hotels, they don’t raise children. Davy would have been better off dying in the plane crash with his parents.”

      The sound of a closing door came on the heels of Cheyenne’s horrified gasp. Thomas Steele instantly spun around. Jamming his clenched fists into his pockets, he stared at the closed door to Davy’s room. Only the slightest twitch at the corner of one eye disturbed his stone-carved countenance. Then he ground out a swearword and turned away, delivering a swift kick to the nearest chair.

      Cheyenne waited until it was apparent Thomas Steele had no intention of going to his nephew before she went to Davy’s door and knocked. She didn’t wait for permission to enter.

      Davy sat on the extreme edge of his bed, his thin shoulders hunched over. Cheyenne sat beside him on the frilly mauve bedspread. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, answering the question of how much he’d understood of his uncle’s words.

      When she wrapped an arm around him, Davy tried to pull away, but she held him tighter. With her other hand she reached for a box of tissues and held it out to him. “He didn’t mean it.” Davy’s anguish drew the lie from her. Cheyenne didn’t know what Thomas Steele had meant.

      “I didn’t want to go to camp. There are bears in the woods and I didn’t know anybody and I couldn’t sleep with my sniffer.”

      “What’s a sniffer?”

      Davy hung his head lower. “Grandmother threw Bear away because he had holes and stuff was coming out and she said he smelled bad and I was too old to take him to bed. I saved a little piece that come off I keep it under my pillow. It’s a secret. Pearl knows, but she won’t tell.”

      “Who’s Pearl? A friend?”

      “She works for Grandmother at the hotel.”

      “You live in a hotel?”

      Davy nodded. Taking a tissue, he noisily blew his nose. “I think Uncle Thomas knows about my sniffer. That’s why he don’t like me. Pearl said he does, but he don’t.”

      The sad little voice tore at Cheyenne’s heart, and she wanted to hit Davy’s uncle. Thomas Steele definitely had a problem, and what that problem was, she had no idea, but he had no right to make a little boy so unhappy. Or himself so unhappy. The unbidden thought gave her pause, but Davy came first. Gently squeezing him, she forced lightness into her voice. “Somebody probably took your uncle Thomas’s sniffer away from him when he was a little boy and that’s why he’s so cranky.”

      Davy gave her a doubtful look. “I don’t think he had a sniffer. Grandmother says he’s mean and bossy. She told Grandfather she got the wrong baby when she got Uncle Thomas from the hospital. I asked Pearl what Grandmother meant and she laughed and said Uncle Thomas spits like Grandfather and all the Steeles. I never seen Grandfather spit.” He paused. “I thought Uncle Thomas wanted me to come so he could teach me to spit. I’m a Steele, too.”

      Cheyenne needed a second to interpret Davy’s words. “Pearl must have meant your uncle Thomas is the spitting image of your grandfather. That means they look alike. People say my sister Allie and I are the spitting images of each other.”

      “I wish I had a brother to play with.”

      Cheyenne saw an opportunity to perhaps repair some damage. “Sisters aren’t always so great. Last week Allie let Moonie, one of her dogs, get a hold of my new sweater and Moonie chewed a big hole in it. I told Allie I couldn’t decide whether to kill her or Moonie.”

      Davy gave her a wide-eyed СКАЧАТЬ