Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set. Jillian Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ was the last thing he wanted to do.

      “Things?” she asked quietly, curious, closing behind her the door to the bedroom where George slept. “What have you done for him now?”

      “Picked out some clothes from the shelves downstairs.” With a shrug, Cole shouldered into the room awkwardly and held out several folded pieces of clothing. “I noticed his things were starting to wear out. Guessing they were hand-me-downs.”

      “Yes.” From the church donation barrel back home. Those pesky tears returned, burning her eyes and blurring her vision. She blinked them away, stepping toward him, close enough to see the dark stubble on his jaw from a day’s growth. Her fingers itched to touch him there, to feel the rasp against her fingertips. It was foolish to want to get closer to him, this man who’d been clear he wanted none of that. So she squared her shoulders, tamped down the wish and took the stack of clothes he offered her.

      “Brand-new.” She stroked the flannel shirt, blue to match George’s eyes. There were a week’s worth of shirts, she noticed, and denim trousers to match. Her chest ached at Cole’s thoughtfulness. “George will be thrilled. Thank you for this, for providing for him.”

      “Just keeping my bargain.” Cole dipped his chin in an awkward bob, as if there were far more feelings behind those words than he chose to admit. “Boys his age grow like weeds. He may need underthings and socks. You can choose from the shelves downstairs, whatever he needs. Just let me or Eberta know what you take for inventory purposes.”

      “I will.” It was very generous of him to think of so many new things for George. “This is nice of you considering I have the feeling you are upset with me. Over the sled.”

      “Yes, I had hoped you would side with me on the sled issue.” He ambled past her and squatted in front of the cold, dark potbellied stove. The door opened with a squeak. “Guess I misjudged the kind of woman you are.”

      “Oh.” His words hit her particularly hard. He’d been pleasant but reserved through the afternoon and over a warmed-up supper of stew Emmylou had made the night before. But, she realized, the children had been around them. Now it was only the two of them. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed in me, but I can’t go against what I believe is right.”

      “Oh, that girls need fresh air and exercise, too?” He arched a dark brow at her, reaching for the fireplace shovel. “A nice walk wouldn’t have been better?”

      “It certainly wouldn’t have been as much fun.” She bit the inside of her lip, trying to figure out just how mad he was. Remembering how angry he’d been when he’d marched over to her in the pasture, she realized now that his upset hadn’t blown over. He hadn’t let it go. What she needed to do was reassure him. “You don’t need to bother with the stove. It’s just me, and I don’t need a fire.”

      “So this is how you made ends meet, did you?” He ignored what she had to say and stirred the embers until they glowed bright red. He added a handful of kindling from the nearby wood box. “Once your son was warm in bed, you’d let the fire go out and sit in the freezing cold?”

      “Until bedtime. To save on the cost of fuel,” she said, her cheeks heating. “It was financially prudent.”

      “In my house, that’s not the way it works.” He sounded angry again, his granite shoulders tensing as he watched the tiny flames flicker and dance. “You’ll keep the fire burning until your bedtime. You’ll do what I ask this time, or I’ll put an end to the sledding.”

      As if curious about her reaction, he cut his gaze to her, studying her briefly out of the corner of his eye. Their gazes met and she felt her heartbeat pause, as if it were about to cease all together.

      “You strike a hard deal, Cole,” she told him, understanding dawning. He wasn’t without a heart, not at all. “I’ll agree to your terms.”

      “Good.” He added small pieces of wood and, satisfied, closed the door. “At this point I wouldn’t want to send you back to North Carolina. I’m rather fond of George.”

      He looked away, pushed off the floor and rose to his impressive six-foot height. The silence as he brushed moss and bark off his hands said more than his words ever could. His affection for George had won her devotion. He’d spent the entire afternoon teaching the boy how to ride, saddle and rein, and after supper the pair had disappeared into the barn to clean stalls and care for the horses.

      “I’m rather fond of Amelia,” she confessed and went quiet, too, letting her silence say much, much more.

      “I’m glad.” He cleared his throat and finally spoke, though he looked unsure of himself. It was endearing that for all his strength and size, he was basically shy. Why that stole her heart just a bit, she couldn’t say, either.

      He reached for the broom, but she beat him to it. He raised one eyebrow and his face turned to stone. She was starting to recognize his angry look.

      “This is the least I can do for the man who built the fire for me.” She seized the broom and swept the small amount of debris into a tidy pile. “You’re going to have to get used to me doing things for you, too. I understand that it’s going to be a challenge for you, as I’ve been alone for so long, as well.”

      “I see.” His gaze raked over her face, and she shivered. Perhaps from the cold air, for the fire in the stove was not strong enough to begin heating the place. He sounded amused as he grabbed the nearby dustpan and knelt to hold it in place for her. “You would have been happy never marrying again?”

      “It probably seems that way.” She swept, sending the tiny pieces of moss and bark into the dustpan. “I would have preferred to marry, but finding someone who would be good to George was a problem.”

      “You had offers?” He rose, emptied the pan in the wood box.

      “Several. We lived in a very small town, but every widower who came along asked for my hand.” For once she was with someone who could understand her choices, unlike her friends and coworkers who’d been critical of her decisions. “One was a man who had a farm to work and five daughters. He said he’d take me on as a wife because of George, who could learn to do the work of a man in the fields.”

      “That’s terrible.” Cole took the broom from her and put it away, sympathy knelling low in his voice. “But I know men like that. They use their children as free labor.”

      “Yes, and that’s not what I wanted for George. Better that I work long hours and have my great-aunt watch him than to expose him to that heartache.” She felt surprised when Cole reached for her elbow, guiding her to the sofa, gesturing for her to sit. It had been a long time since a man had shown genuine caring for her. She settled on the cushion, telling him what she’d never told anyone. “That wasn’t the worst offer I received. A salesman, who came through town regularly and stayed at the hotel where I worked, offered to make me his wife if I left George behind. Apparently he wasn’t interested in raising another man’s son. Nothing but trouble, he said.”

      “With offers like that, no wonder you were cautious with me. I was cautious, too.” He shook the teakettle on the stove, listened for the sound of water in it and carried it to the kitchen nook. “It took you and me writing over a dozen letters each to reach this point. I’ve learned from several of my customers most folks in a mail-order situation just write a few times.”

      “That’s what I’ve heard, too, but we have children. We had to be sure.” She watched СКАЧАТЬ