Handpicked Husband. Winnie Griggs

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СКАЧАТЬ shrugged. “It’s not as if we have much else to offer.” She raised a hand. “And don’t even think about offering up your and Ira’s bed. It’s not big enough for all of them anyway.” She pulled the pins from her hair and shook it free. Ahh, that felt good. “Besides, it’s just for one night. They’ll survive.”

      “Confound it!”

      The British-accented exclamation, accompanied by the sound of a slap, easily penetrated the netting-covered windows.

      “Hang propriety, Barr,” Mr. Fulton grumbled. “These mosquitoes are as big as bats and thick as an English fog. We’re getting eaten alive out here.”

      “For once I agree.”

      That sounded like the young Mr. Dawson.

      “Take a step toward that door before I say you can,” Adam replied pleasantly, “and I’ll see that you sleep out here with your winged friends tonight.”

      Reggie raised a brow. She hadn’t expected such gallantry from Adam.

      “Sounds like your grandfather picked the right man for the job,” Ira remarked.

      Reggie reluctantly agreed.

      Mrs. Peavy tsked and made shooing motions. “Now stop this dawdling, both of you. We may not be able to offer them more than a floor tonight, but there’s no need to make them suffer more than necessary.”

      Reggie nodded and climbed back up the ladder. She could tell by the sound of Jack’s breathing he was already asleep. Changing for bed, she lay down on her own straw-stuffed ticking. A second later, Ira dimmed the lamp and invited the men back inside.

      Reggie stared at the rafters in the shadowy moonlight and listened to the men bedding down on the floor just scant feet below her.

      If her grandfather had his way, one of these strangers would soon be her husband, would have the right to share her life.

      Reggie rolled to her side and cradled her cheek on one arm, trying to encourage her weary body to relax enough for sleep to overtake her.

      Unbidden, the memory of being caught up in Adam’s arms as she tripped tiptoed into her thoughts. For a few moments this afternoon she’d once more been that moonstruck schoolgirl who considered him a white knight.

      Stop it! Remember what’s at stake.

      Reggie flopped over and fluffed up her pillow. She closed her eyes and forced herself to remember Adam saying I’ll be scrupulously, might I say ruthlessly, single-minded.

      She didn’t doubt for a minute he’d meant every syllable of his vow.

      Some masculine grumbling drifted up from below. If the unimaginable happened and she had to actually make a choice, which man would she end up with?

      Heavenly Father, I know I’ve been mostly a disappointment to You, but please help me figure out how to handle this. If not for me, then for Jack’s sake. I couldn’t stand to see him hurt by any of this.

      As Reggie finally drifted off to a troubled sleep, her three suitors whirled through her dreams, twirling her in a dizzying square-dance.

      And above it all stood Adam Barr, playing the fiddle and calling the moves.

      * * *

      Adam trailed behind Chance as they climbed the footpath from the lake to the cabin in the early morning light. The kid had more of a spring to his step now than when they had headed down just past dawn. Apparently the night spent on the cabin floor hadn’t done any permanent damage.

      Chance had even perked up enough to whistle.

      Adam tightened his grip on his shaving gear, sourly wondering what his companion had to be so cheery about. He certainly didn’t find the situation any more palatable today than yesterday. In fact, if anything, he was more eager to get this assignment over and done with than before.

      The members of this unorthodox household had been unfailingly polite to their guests last night. But all through the simple supper and homey conversation, Adam had felt like a boorish trespasser, an infidel invading a peace-loving land. It was as if Regina had gone out of her way to show the four “Easterners” just what a happy home they were about to invade and destroy.

      Adam nearly slammed into Chance as the young man halted in the middle of the trail.

      “What—” Chance’s bit off exclamation ended in a long drawn-out whistle.

      Adam, peering past the startled young man, grinned wryly. While they were down at the lake getting cleaned up for breakfast, Ira had driven the gaudy wagon around to the front of the cabin.

      Here in the bright morning sunlight it presented an even more startling spectacle than it had in the evening shade yesterday. For one thing, he could see the front now. The wagon’s roof extended over the seat, shading a pale pink upholstered bench. The sides extended past that same seat in a double set of quarter-moon-like scallops. It made the driver’s box appear to be the inside of some exotic seashell. Combined with its other flamboyant features, the vehicle had all the finesse of a clown at a funeral.

      “I see you’ve noticed my studio on wheels.”

      Regina, arms wrapped around a small crate, stepped down from the porch. She handled her awkward burden with more ease than Adam normally expected from a woman. It should have made her appear mannish. Instead, it gave her a sort of stately grace.

      “Quite striking, don’t you think?”

      It took him a heartbeat to realize she was talking about the wagon. Clearing his throat, he reined in his wayward thoughts. And realized her eyes glinted with the hint of mischief.

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