When they discovered she was with child, Adam had married her. It was only after the marriage certificate had been signed and they were living as man and wife, that she’d revealed her true nature.
So here he was, presuming the worst about a gullible young woman who had trusted her father and crossed an ocean to become Adam’s wife, when he should be going out of his way to apologize for the situation and to ensure her comfort and happiness.
On top of that, she was Diana’s sister, and if things worked out the way he hoped, he and Madeline might one day be brother and sister by marriage. He needed to guarantee that Madeline was safe and well-cared-for, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to cultivate a friendship.
Slapping his hands together to brush away the grain dust, he heard a throat clearing behind him, and turned. There in the doorway stood Madeline, wearing a pretty blue-and-white-striped day dress, with a white lace scarf tucked neatly into her neckline.
Lord, she’d grown into a lovely young woman, he realized suddenly. It was hard to believe he was looking at the same freckle-faced child he remembered.
Adam blinked a few times, then found himself comparing Madeline to Diana. Madeline wasn’t lovely in the same way as her older sister. Diana was indisputably beautiful. One knew it the first instant one saw her.
Madeline, however, was more of an enigma. He discovered now—as he noticed the color of her dark brown eyes, so deep and discerning—that she required a longer look, a more careful study. There was an innocence about her because of her youth, but beneath that soft exterior, almost in full contradiction, there seemed to be a firm, immovable strength that revealed itself gradually. And a stubbornness he’d already experienced firsthand. He could see it as clearly now as he could see the pink ribbon on her lace cap. She looked as if she could survive anything.
He wiped his hands on his breeches as he approached her in the doorway. “Is there something you need, Madeline?”
She held her chin high and prepared to speak, as if she were bracing herself for a scolding for interrupting his work. Had he truly been that surly toward her? With a sharp pang of regret, Adam accepted that he had and promised himself he would try to be less gruff.
“I would like to go to the fort,” she announced.
“Why? Did you forget something?” Bloody hell, he sounded gruff again.
She seemed to put enormous effort into forming her response, to speak clearly and succinctly and not shrink before his tone. “No, but I would like to speak with the Ripleys. Or I could send a message, if someone is going that way.”
He leaned a shoulder against the door frame. “No one’s going, at least not that I know of.”
“Well, if no one is going, I would like to take a horse myself.” She raised her chin again, almost daring him to say no, and he found himself oddly impressed by her tenacity.
Nonetheless, there was no way on God’s earth that he would let her ride out into the wilderness alone. “I couldn’t let you do that.”
“Why not? I could find my way. I’m quite sure I remember the road.”
He backed away from her, then lifted another sack of seed onto his shoulder. “‘Quite sure’ isn’t good enough. Some of the paths can be obscure. I’d have to take you myself, but as you can see, I’m busy.”
He tossed the seed onto the back of the wagon, and Madeline jumped at the loudsmack.“Then tell me when.”
“How about the day after tomorrow?” He went for another sack.
She said nothing, and he had the distinct impression that his answer wasn’t the one she was looking for. He felt her determined gaze upon him, watching him pick up the bag of seed and carry it to the wagon.
“I’d like to go sooner,” she said.
He dropped the sack onto the pile, then crossed toward her and leaned against the door frame again. He rubbed a thumb along his stubbled jawline. “What’s the hurry?”
“I wish to see about working for the Ripleys.”
Distracted briefly by the wind lifting the wispy curls that had escaped Madeline’s hairpins and now hung loosely at her delicate shoulders, Adam tried not to let his gaze wander downward, for that would lead his eyes to her neckline.
He felt uncomfortable with his awareness of her neckline all of a sudden—and the fact that he was curious about it, for he should not be noticing anything like that in this young woman whom he had known as a child.
He labored to bring his attention back to where it should be: on the situation at hand and her question about leaving to work for the Ripleys. What should he do?
He had already sent his proposal to Diana, who—if fate was kind this time—would arrive before the fall harvest. What would she say if she knew he had not at least attempted to keep her baby sister safe in his home, and well-cared-for?
“There’s no need to leave.” He did his best to sound hospitable and not quite so ogrelike. “You’re more than welcome to stay here with us as long as you wish.”
“Thank you, but no.”
“No?”
