His Substitute Wife. Dorothy Clark

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      “It’s a water heater.” He opened the door of the firebox and dumped the coal onto the glowing embers.

      “A water heater?” She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “There’s no spigot. How does it work?”

      “The water comes from outside into the bottom of this reservoir...here.” He touched a pipe that came up through the floor. “The coal heats the water and it rises to the top. Then the hot water from the top of the reservoir flows out through this pipe—” he raised his hand to a pipe midway up the tank “—into the washbowl and bathing tub in the dressing room.”

      “Oh, I see.” She glanced his way and smiled. “I wondered where that wonderful hot water came from.” Her gaze slid back to the water heater. “What are those other pipes for? Does that one—Oh, my!” She leaned forward, peered over the end of the cupboard. “That one comes to this sink!”

      He grinned, caught up in her enthusiasm. “That’s right. It brings the hot water here—” he stepped closer, stretched out his hand “—to this spigot. And this one—” he touched another pipe that ran along the wall to the sink cupboard “—brings in the cold water from outside.”

      She straightened and looked up at him, her hazel eyes shining bright with gold flecks he’d never noticed before. “And the wastewater?”

      “You dump it into the sink and it flows down this screened hole through a draining pipe to the outside.”

      “Truly?” Her gaze dropped to the sink cupboard. She gave a soft sigh and slid her fingers along the wood cabinet. “I never would have thought a kitchen in Wyoming Territory would be more luxurious than ours in New York.”

      Ours. The thought of Linda took him like a fist to the stomach. He sucked in a breath, looked away. “I wanted the best...”

      “Yes, of course.”

      She sounded stricken. He glanced back, saw the knowledge of his hurt in Audrey’s eyes. She’d understood what he’d left unsaid. He’d have to do better at hiding his emotions, but how? It was as if Linda stood there between them. He took refuge in honesty. “I’m not really that hungry, Audrey. Coffee will do for me. There’s a bag of Lion’s—freshly ground—in the pantry.” He dipped his head toward the large floor-to-ceiling cupboard at the other end of the stove.

      She met his gaze for a moment, then nodded and moved back to the stove. He set his jaw, watched her lift the new coffeepot from the cooking surface, set the insides on the worktable, then turn to the sink cupboard and reach for the tap.

      “Wait!” Too late.

      Water gushed, hit the rim of the pot and splashed onto Audrey’s hand and blouse. She gasped and jumped back. He reached to turn off the deluge and their hands collided. She jerked hers away, grabbed her blouse and tugged at the wet spot, flapping it to make it dry. “That water is freezing cold!”

      Her uneasiness at his touch was plain on her face. Guilt pricked him. She had come all this way to help him. The least he could do was show some appreciation and try to make her as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. He tugged his lips into a slanted grin. “Sorry. I tried to warn you. The water is melt-off from the ice cap piped in from the waterfall. There’s a lot of pressure.”

      “I noticed.”

      He chuckled at her dry tone.

      She looked up, an uncertain smile playing at the corner of her lips. Their gazes met and she looked down, opened the tap slowly and ran water into the pot. “How do you like your coffee?”

      “Strong and black.”

      She nodded, set the pot on the worktable and moved to the pantry. “Father liked his coffee that way. Two spoonsful for every cup.”

      “You made it for him?” The stovepipe crackled. He turned the draft down for a slow burn.

      “Every morning.” There was sadness in the smile that curved her lips. “I’m an early riser—like Father was. There’s something special about shar—” Her lips clamped closed. She carried the bag of coffee to the worktable. “Where are your spoons?”

      “Here in this drawer.” He stepped beside her and pulled a drawer open while she placed the insides in the coffeepot. “There are towels and things in the drawer in front of you.”

      She accepted the spoon he handed her, opened the bag and peered inside, then tipped it from side to side, probing the coffee with the spoon handle.

      The rich aroma rose to tempt his nostrils. “Looking for the picture card?”

      She stopped searching in the ground beans and glanced up at him with a self-conscious little laugh. “Force of habit.”

      She saved them? Linda wouldn’t bother with a picture card. She was too sophisticated and worldly for such things. Obviously more worldly than he’d known. His lungs constricted, cut off his breath. The muscle along his jaw twitched. “I tossed the card away when I ground the coffee.” He moved to the water heater, pretending to adjust the damper on the firebox door.

      “It’s of no matter.” The spoon clinked against the coffeepot. “As I said, it’s only habit. I save them for Lily Chaseon—the daughter of our neighbors back home.”

      Where she would be had she not come West to help him. His hand stilled. Why would she do that? She was not responsible for Linda’s behavior. He watched Audrey place the coffeepot on the stove, fold down the top of the bag and carry it back to the cupboard, her movements neat and precise. Everything about Audrey was neat—her hair, her appearance in that plain gown...even the way she arranged her thoughts into a sensible argument that had left him no room for disagreement—except on an emotional level. He frowned, shoved his fingers through his hair and determined to stop acting like a graceless boor. At the very least, he owed her good manners. “Audrey...”

      “Yes?” She moved to the step-back dresser displaying blue-and-white-patterned dishes and lifted a cup and saucer off the shelf.

      “I want to apologize for my behavior last night.” Her posture stiffened. She glanced at him then started for the table.

      “There’s no need for an apology, Blake.”

      “I think there is. I had no right to kiss you like that—to take my anger out on you. Or to treat you in such an unwelcoming manner after you came all this way to—”

      “Please stop, Blake. I realize how...difficult...all this is for you.” The cup rattled against the saucer. She set it on the table and clasped her hands. “I’m so sorry for...everything.”

      “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Audrey. It is—” his tongue refused to speak the name of his beloved “—your sister who broke her promise to me. You’ve come to help me. And I recognize that that was very hard for you—as is this farce of a marriage in which we find ourselves. And I appreciate what you are doing for me—though my behavior toward you last night did not, in any way, reflect my gratitude. I’m sorry for that. I hope you will forgive me.” He cleared his throat and moved to stand beside her. “It’s early. Dawn has not yet fully given way to the day. Shall we start again?”

      Her gaze lifted, СКАЧАТЬ