Название: Montana Legend
Автор: Jillian Hart
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781472039637
isbn:
“I’ll tell my pa that you said that.” Lucy squinted in the direction of the fancy buggy gleaming in the sunshine.
A movement caught Gage’s eye. Sarah was leaving? She couldn’t leave him here with these girls. He tried to call out to her, but Sarah was too far away, waving goodbye. Her skirt snapped around her shoe tops, and he remembered her small pale feet, bare and smudged with soft dirt.
Louisa cleared her throat to grab his attention, but nothing was likely to do that.
“Excuse me, ladies. My daughter will enjoy your gifts.” He tipped his hat, taking the basket only because handing it back would be rude. He didn’t want to offend the banker’s daughter—at least, not too damn much. Yet.
He left them standing there, turning his back on their huffs of disapproval as they left. That had been a waste of his time, but at least he knew the banker couldn’t be trusted.
He’d bet the only reason those girls were here with their fancy basket and simpering smiles was because Mr. Lockwood had revealed the size of Gage’s bank account.
“I see the welcomes have started.” Sarah didn’t hesitate on her way down the road as he caught up with her. “Remember what I said about my uncle.”
There was something about her. As he let her go on her way, Gage felt a thud in his chest, a foolish thud, because he knew darn well where listening to his heart led.
“Ella’s ma is really nice.” Lucy’s hand slipped into his, her fingers warm and small. Trust glittered in her dark eyes and something else.
Longing.
“Mrs. Redding told me she isn’t looking for marriage. In case you have any ideas.”
“Aw, Pa. I already got ideas.” She leaned her cheek against his arm, all innocence and dreams.
She’d been too young to remember how it had been, so he didn’t blame her for wishing, but he had to be honest with her. Maybe in time she’d understand.
He wouldn’t be walking down the aisle a second time.
Lucy took the basket from him and lugged it into the shanty. Her footsteps faded away, and he was alone on the windblown prairie, staring after a woman in a simple checked dress.
She grew smaller with distance and still he watched. Her blue skirt became nothing more than a dot on the brown plains, and he could not turn away.
One thing was sure. When it came to Mrs. Sarah Redding, he’d be wise to keep his distance.
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