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“It’s a hard life for a woman out here, Sheridan. I am only safe because most men in town know of my husband. I am left alone. I think if Elijah sells you the land that will even make you more sought after. Whispering Creek is very prosperous, and you are already very wealthy. You would only be safe if Elijah married you, and the only way to ensure that now is to get with child…and if he is cold to you….”
Get with child? In her seduction plans, the possibility hadn’t occurred to her. A surge of longing pierced her heart and her hands trembled in reaction. What if there were consequences to their untamed passion of last evening? It hadn’t happened in the past; perhaps it would not this time either. “I never thought of a child.”
“It only takes one time,” Beth said blushing. “I am proof of that.”
Sheridan held back the need to pry once again. Beth was not ready to share her past and secrets, and she had to respect her decision.
Sheridan waved her hand around the land. “The only thing I am certain of in our current situation is that Elijah doesn’t covet me because of how bloody rich I am. When I had my season in London, men were only interested in me because of my wealth. Fortune hunters came out in droves. Even Thomas deceived me in the most horrible manner for my wealth. Mr. Sullivan pursues me for my money. And Jackson Dunn only proposed because of how my wealth would increase his stature. Elijah sees me as more than money.”
“I don’t understand at all. He wants you to leave, yes?”
“Yes. But he is the first man to ever desire me without wanting my money. He sees me for more than it.”
Beth snorted. “He does not see you at all. You should abandon your plan to compromise him, the rules of polite society do not apply to him.”
Sheridan glanced at her. “I am starting to see that,” she said softly.
“He is offering you protection, without having to marry him.”
She swallowed at the wistful sound in her friend’s voice. Beth had a hellacious marriage before, and dreaded the idea of a man even looking at her. After all she had appeared on the ranch’s doorstep two years ago, soaked from the torrential downpour with a swollen face and busted lips. Sheridan had almost fainted when she walked in on Beth in the bath that same night and saw her back. It had been swollen with big welts of purple bruises that spread to her stomach and ribs.
“Why subject yourself to a man’s ownership when you don’t have to? Subject yourself to his lust? His fists?” Beth demanded at Sheridan’s silence.
She understood having the protection of a man’s name without having to endure the restriction a husband could place her under, and without enduring his lust, sounded wonderful to Beth. But Sheridan wanted more than just protection. Elijah felt like home.
There had been a time she had lain in his arms, and dreamt of the future with him. Drea
mt of the life they could build, the legacies for their children they would establish. “Elijah would never hurt me so. Not all men are like Hardin, Beth. I think…I believe happiness is real and can be had if we trust in someone other than ourselves. If we trust in hope, instead of fear, and if we dream for the future instead of living in the past.”
Beth leaned over and gripped her hand. “And if you are wrong?”
“Elijah has honor,” Sheridan countered softly. “And I realized something today. His need to see me gone from the ranch is not the past that lies between us. There was a darkness in his eyes I did not understand when he spoke. A torment that I do not understand, but I want to wipe from his eyes. He fears for my wellbeing, and that gives me hope.”
Beth sighed. “You are frightfully stubborn.”
Sheridan smiled. “That I am, and Elijah is about to discover just how fierce and tenacious I am.”
Chapter Eight
Cool water sluiced over Elijah’s back as he rose from the depths of the water in which he had dunked himself. He had worked himself hard for the day, pushing his muscles until they screamed, as how he had been doing for the past few days. Elijah had ridden the range within the first day of arriving noting what needed to be done. He had been impressed with its operation, despite the lack of cowhands. But there were always things to be done. And today he had worked alongside the men as they cut the hay and rounded up stray cattle that had wandered onto their range, anything to avoid encountering Sheridan in the main house. There were times she rode out onto the range and conferred with the men. She rose as early as the rest of them, and seemed to work as hard…except she had a housekeeper, a cook, and if he was not mistaken a young miss who helped her dress and combed her hair. She even had a garden she tended to with such caring diligence, and it was filled with lush lilacs, chrysanthemum, roses, and even flowering herbs. He was certain they were the only ranch in the area to hire a gardener.
How in God’s name she did not see that she belonged in society attending balls and operas was beyond him.
Elijah hauled himself from the lake, and moved over to the rock where his clean clothes waited for him. He drew on his jeans, and dragged the blue chambray shirt uncaring of how the material clung to his wet skin. Next, he tugged on his boots, and then crammed his well-worn black Stetson onto his head.
With a soft growl, he tipped his head to the sky. He was heading to the main house for grub…dinner, finally accepting Sheridan’s invitation. He couldn’t keep refusing her. The woman was damn persistent. Every day since his arrival he got a beautifully worded invitation, with such elegant handwriting, on foolscap paper, inviting him to dine at the main house by seven. Today, he was accepting that invitation because he could no longer deny the searing need to be in her presence for more than a few minutes.
Grabbing his Winchester, he mounted his horse and urged him into a canter toward the main house. A few minutes later he dismounted, and dropped the reins, allowing his horse to remain untied. He clambered up the stairs and opened the massive oak door. He strolled down the hallway, merry laughter acting as a beacon. A fire burned in the grate and was the only thing quiet about the large open dining area. Several people were seated around the oak table, including the housekeeper Mrs. Murphy, the cook herself, Beth, Miguel, and Tom. The chatter and laugher was loud and vibrant as they ate without the decorum he would have expected from dining with Sheridan. And at the heart of it she sat, her elbows atop the table in the most unladylike fashion, her chin resting in her laced palms, her eyes glowing with merriment, a smile on her lips, as Tom held everyone enraptured with some ridiculous gun fighting tale and a fair maiden. It smacked him then how much she looked like she belonged here. She seemed…happy. These odd assorted people were unquestionably people she cared for. Not many would have their cowhands and housekeepers at their fine dining table in such a grand ranch house. Even at Triple K, his mother was never so at ease with their hired hands.
An odd arrow of envy…and loneliness pierced his heart. When was the last time he had sat down to meal with his family? Months. After he’d lost his wife…and his son, he had fled the Triple K to his mountain hideaway as if the devil was on his heels, the memories of them too much to bear. It had been a long time before he’d ventured off his mountain to the Whispering Creek, grateful he had not taken his family there when he’d normally visited in the past. The Creek had served as another welcome retreat away from all that he had lost.
“Elijah!”
Sheridan stood as the laughter died down. A knowing twinkle appeared in Miguel’s eyes and Elijah wanted to punch him in the face. He took off his hat clutching it to his chest, puzzled at the uncertain feel winding its way through his heart.
“It seems I am late.”
She pushed back her chair and took a few steps to him a smile lighting her face. “We have plenty more.”
