Her Montana Man. Cheryl St.John

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      He carried Tyler into a well-lit room with a heavy oak bedstead and bureau, a chest against one wall, and a row of wooden soldiers at attention along the windowsill.

      Eliza Jane tugged at the drapery tassels, letting the material fall over the opening and cloak the room in semidarkness. Moving forward with a rustle of skirts, she pulled back the blue-and-white patterned quilt and a crisp sheet.

      Jonas lowered Tyler to the bed, easing his head onto the pillow and straightening his legs.

      His aunt removed his boots. Jonas reached to take them from her and set them aside. She pulled the covers up over Tyler and rhythmically threaded her fingers through his hair, as though she was in no hurry to leave him. Jonas couldn’t help noticing the pain and adoration on her face when she looked at the boy. She was hurting for him as well as for her own loss.

      Bending at the waist, she pressed her nose to his hairline. Her lips touched the skin at his temple. Her eyes closed and Jonas caught the glimmer of a tear as it dropped on Tyler’s cheek. She wiped it away quickly and stood. Composing herself she touched her skirt with both hands as though pressing out wrinkles.

      He recognized the gesture as something she did without thinking when she was uncomfortable. Following her out into the hall, he stood waiting as she pulled the door closed.

      “I’d like to do that myself,” she said. “Lie down and obliviously sleep away the next several hours…or days.”

      “Go ahead.”

      She looked up at him. The hum of conversation from downstairs seemed to swell and fade. After a second, she shook her head. “The house is full of guests.”

      “They would understand.”

      “It’s a small thing to honor my sister and let people pay their respects.”

      He’d been curious about her for months, watching her daily walks to the tea shop, wondering about her life. He suffered a twinge of guilt that perhaps part of his reasoning for coming today had been out of curiosity. It felt odd standing in the home where she had lived for so many years, seeing her in her surroundings, watching her with her nephew. Yet he still didn’t know her any better than before.

      “This is interesting.”

      Eliza Jane jumped and turned to face the man who’d spoken.

      Royce Dunlap had apparently come up a back flight of stairs and was standing several feet away, looking as though he’d caught them doing something wrong.

      Eliza Jane’s demeanor changed, her back straightening and chin lifting in a defensive posture. “Mr. Black carried Tyler to his bed. Tyler’s had a difficult time and needs to rest.”

      Royce’s gaze slid to Jonas. “Why, how kind of you to assist my son, Jonas. You are a man of many talents. One never knows what you’ll be applying yourself to next.”

      For years Jonas had locked horns with Royce in town council meetings. One discussion or another always led them to a disagreement. Royce had a bone to pick with him for some reason, and Jonas just plain held little respect for the man and his ill treatment of the workers in his employment. But this wasn’t the time or the place to air their differences. “I came to show my respects for your wife.”

      “Yes, we’re torn over our loss,” Royce replied, but the words and his tone didn’t hold much sincerity.

      Jonas didn’t like the impression he was getting. “I believe I’ll finish my coffee now.” He turned to Eliza Jane. “Miss.”

      “It’s probably cold,” she told him. “I’ll get you a fresh cup.”

      “No bother. I’ll help myself.”

      Eliza watched his broad back in the black coat as he descended the stairs. She sensed Royce’s displeasure and heard him step closer. “He’s not our kind, and he’s not welcome in this house again.”

      She frowned, but didn’t look at his face. “We don’t turn away kind folks who call to pay their respects. He’s a perfect gentleman.”

      “He’s a slimy opportunist.”

      “What are you talking about?” Turning away, she headed for Jenny Lee’s room. She and Nora had already cleaned it and replaced all the bedding with new, except for the wedding ring quilt that had been Jenny’s favorite. It lay folded over the foot of the bed. The sight made Eliza catch her breath.

      She ignored the overwhelming recollections the room stirred up and went directly to the bureau, where she pulled open the second drawer. The wooden box that held Jenny Lee’s jewelry was gone. She looked under delicately scented scarves and handkerchiefs that tried to evoke more memories, but there was no jewelry box. Puzzled, she opened and searched each drawer.

      Dawning realization kicked her heart into a frantic rhythm. She gave the room a quick once-over and then ran back into the hall.

      Royce lounged on a chair that stood alongside a table with a vase. With a smug gaze, he watched her approach.

      “Where is Jenny’s jewelry box?”

      “Why, it’s in safekeeping, of course.”

      “I want to give the jade necklace and earrings to Nora.”

      He gave a snort of disgust. “Where would that old bag wear jewelry like that?”

      Heated anger built in Eliza’s chest. “It’s of no concern to you where she would wear it or if she wore it at all. It’s a gesture of appreciation. Nora cared for Jenny Lee as tenderly as a mother would have. She’s like family to us. I want to give her a token of some sort. Something sentimental.”

      “She’s not family. She’s not anything to us. Jenny Lee’s belongings are not yours to disperse.”

      “That necklace was our mother’s. I want Nora to have it.”

      Royce moved so quickly that Eliza had no warning. Grasping her upper arms, he pushed her against the wall. “Don’t defy me, dear sister. Not now. Not ever.”

      He sidled closer, pressing his thigh between hers.

      Eliza struggled to escape, but he raised one hand to her throat and applied enough pressure to cut off her air. “This isn’t a game. There are no choices. You’re going to marry me. What was Jenny Lee’s is mine, and what was yours will be mine.”

      Her blood pounded in her ears, and she struggled for a much-needed breath. Royce pushed until the bones of her pelvis ached from being pressed between his body and the wall. “Let…go of me,” she managed in a hoarse whisper.

      He lowered his face close, and she turned hers aside to avoid him. He touched his nose to her cheek. “Don’t concern yourself with how I handle things from now on.”

      Eliza used all her strength to slowly twist sideways, forcing a space between their bodies. When Royce eased away a fraction, she lunged her knee upward between his legs as hard as she could. The contact was swift and solid.

      He yelped and released her, doubling over СКАЧАТЬ