Romancing The Crown: Leila and Gage. Kathleen Creighton

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СКАЧАТЬ bony, with legs that bowed out, then came together again at his western-style boots, as if they had been specially made to fit around the girth of a horse. His white hair was slicked back and looked damp, and he had a thick gray moustache that almost covered his mouth, a stark contrast to skin as brown and wrinkled as the shell of a walnut. He wore blue jeans and in spite of the heat, a long-sleeved blue shirt. One gnarled hand, dangling at his side, held a sweat-stained cowboy hat.

      The woman seemed almost as wide as she was tall, with a face as round and smooth as a coin. She had shiny blackcurrant eyes and skin the exact color of the gingerbread cookie people Leila had learned to love as a schoolgirl in Switzerland and England. Her hair, mostly black with only a few streaks of gray, was cut short and tightly curled all over her head, and she wore a loose cotton dress that was bright with flowers.

      “That’s Rueben and Betsy Flores,” Cade said before Leila could ask, nodding his head toward the couple on the porch. “They take care of the place for me.”

      “They are your servants?”

      He answered her with that sharp bark of laughter. “Well…they work for me. But they’re more…friends. Or family.”

      “Ah,” said Leila, nodding with complete understanding. Like Salma, she thought. “And…they live here also? With you?”

      Cade shook his head. “They have their own place, down by the creek.” He stopped the car in front of the steps and turned off the motor.

      Time to face the music, he thought. And inexplicably his heart was beating hard and fast, as if he was a teenager bringing a girl home to meet his parents. He took a sustaining breath and reached for the doorhandle.

      But his bride’s hand, small and urgent, clutched at his arm. In a low, choked-sounding voice she said, “Did you tell them? Do they know?” Turning, he saw panic in her eyes.

      His throat tightened with that strange protective tenderness. “It’s okay, I called them from the airport in New York and filled them in.” Except for the part about his new bride being a princess. And, he thought, even without that they’re probably still in a state of shock. But impulsively, he put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze before he reached once more for the doorhandle.

      He went around the car and as he opened her door for her, leaned down and said in a low voice, “I should warn you—Rueben’s great with horses and dogs, but he’s kind of shy with two-legged animals, so he probably won’t say much. Betsy’ll hug you. They were born in Mexico but now they’re American through and through—I doubt they’re much up on royal protocol.”

      “That is quite all right,” Leila said coolly. “Since I am an American now, too.”

      While he was still trying to think of a response to that, she belied it by extending a regal hand and allowing him to help her out of the car. She released him at once, though, and stood for a moment, squinting a little in the hot sunlight, smoothing the skirt and tugging at the jacket of the once-elegant, now badly wrinkled designer suit she’d worn all the way from Tamir. Then, before he could even think to offer her his arm, she slipped past him and started up the walk alone.

      And for some reason, instead of hurrying to catch up with her, Cade stood there for a moment and watched the woman who was now his wife…slender and graceful in a travel-worn and rumpled suit the color of new lilacs, her head, with hair coming loose from its elegant twist, held proudly.

      American? Well, maybe, he thought with something like awe. But somehow still every inch a princess.

      As he watched his bride with dawning wonder, he was surprised by yet another alien emotion—an unexpected surge of pride. It made his eyes sting and his nose twitch, and he had to clear his throat before he went to join her on the porch.

      He got there just in time to see her hold out her hand to Rueben and say in her musical, slightly accented voice, “Hello, I am Leila. You must be Rueben. I am very happy to meet you. Cade has told me so much about you.”

      It was a graceful little lie—he hadn’t done any such thing. And he should have, he realized now. Lord knows he’d had plenty of time, all those hours on various planes and vehicles, waiting around in airports; time to tell her more than she probably wanted to know about himself, his home, his life. The truth was, he’d barely spoken to her at all during the trip home—just what was necessary between two strangers sharing the same space, no more. He tried to excuse his behavior now by telling himself it was because they’d both been in a state of shock, that he’d been trying to let her rest…sleep a little, which was hogwash. The reason he hadn’t spoken was because he hadn’t known what to say to her. He still didn’t.

      By this time, Leila had turned to Betsy, holding out her hand, face all decked out in dimples. “Hi, you must be—” was as far as she got, though, because just like he’d said she would, Betsy was already hugging the stuffing out of her, cooing to her like one of her little lost puppies.

      And no sooner had that thought entered Cade’s head than here they came—Betsy’s mob of adopted mutts, barking and baying and wiggling and whining, falling over themselves and everybody else trying to be the first to slobber all over the newcomer.

      In those first chaotic seconds Cade had his hands full, along with Rueben and Betsy, pushing and scolding and grabbing at collars. So he didn’t notice right away that Leila had gone rigid as a post. By the time he did notice, she’d already started backing up, moving stiffly with tiny jerky steps, like a statue trying to walk. She kept backing up until she bumped into Cade’s chest, then tried to back up some more, as if, he thought, she was trying to crawl inside his skin.

      His first instinct was to wrap her in his arms and help her to do that any way he could. His heart was kicking like a crazy thing against her back and his skin had gone hot and prickly, as if he’d gotten too close to a fire.

      Ignoring all that, he took her gently by her upper arms and moved her a couple of inches away from him, then leaned down to mutter gruffly in her ear. “They won’t bite. They’re just saying hello.”

      “Are they…yours?” Her voice was trying hard to be normal.

      “Nah—they’re Betsy’s. She picks ’em up here and there. The woman can’t resist a stray.”

      “I am sorry.” The tiniest of tremors skated beneath his fingers. “I did not mean to be rude. I am not used to dogs—” she gave a breathless little laugh “—so many at one time.”

      Cade murmured, “Don’t worry about it.” His tongue felt thick and his thumbs wanted to stroke circles on the tender muscle hiding underneath the fabric of her jacket.

      Meanwhile, Betsy and Rueben had managed to corral the dogs, not as many as they’d seemed, now that they were relatively still—only four, in fact. Somehow or other, Betsy managed to exchange her pair of dogs for Leila, and, cooing and fussing, maneuvered her through the pack and into the house. The front door closed firmly behind the two women, leaving Cade, Rueben and the dogs outside on the porch.

      For several seconds the two men just stood there, saying nothing at all. Forgotten, the dogs scattered about their business, looking chastened or pleased with themselves, according to their various natures.

      Cade cleared his throat and made a half turn. Rueben touched a hand to the top of his head and then, as if surprised to find it bare, resettled his hat into its customary place. He gave one shoulder a hitch. “Give y’hand with the suitcases?”

      “Naw, СКАЧАТЬ