The thought slammed into her brain, followed by more devastating ones.
What if he doesn’t want to meet me? What if…
She pushed all doubts from her mind and knocked lightly. No one answered, no noise came from inside, although she wasn’t sure she’d hear anything the way her heart was thundering in her chest loud enough to drown out the sound of the birds chirping. She pushed the door open. Sunlight flooded the big room, illuminating everything, including the fact that it was empty.
Which bunk was Jake’s? She’d hate to leave this note for one of the other ranch hands.
She stood in the doorway, her gaze scanning all the bunks.
Ah, that one. It was the only one that was made, the blanket pulled taut over the mattress, the pillow placed precisely at the top of the bed. So like him. Despite the work he did on the ranch, he was always neat and well groomed.
It only took a moment or so to slip the note under his pillow and make her escape, blessedly unseen by anyone.
Once back in her room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, and redness stained her cheeks. Exhilaration surged through her, though satisfied with her little bit of intrigue and daring, yet at the same time, anxious that her note wouldn’t be received well.
What if he doesn’t want me?The little voice in her head whispered again, putting a damper on that excitement.What if he thinks I’m too old? What if I make a complete fool of myself, waiting for him, and he just doesn’t show at all? What if?—
She firmly pushed her doubts aside once again, refusing to allow them to take root in her head as she strode toward the armoire in the corner. If she was going to seduce Jake Hannigan, she wanted to do it right, and that meant dressing the part.
She pushed clothes out of the way, reached toward the very back, and pulled out a satin and lace peignoir in pale lavender, so different from the white cotton nightgowns she usually wore. A sigh whispered between her lips as she hung it up on the armoire door and took a step back. She’d never worn it, hadn’t even looked at it since Tom passed. She had planned to wear it on their wedding night…the wedding that never happened.
Did it still fit?
She started to remove the garment from the hanger and stopped.What am I doing? I can’t go to him wearing something meant for another. It isn’t right.
She fingered the lace as she pushed the peignoir back onto the hanger and hung it up on the door again.
Besides, this is not who I am anymore. I’m not some idealistic young woman, naïve and full of dreams. I’ve lived. I’ve learned. I’ve grown.Unable to help herself, she admitted one more truth about herself.And I’m so very practical.
She moved toward the bureau and pulled open the second drawer from the top. White cotton nightgowns met her eyes—some plain, some adorned with lace or embroidery. She pulled one out and inspected it. The lace around the neckline was coming away from the rest of the garment. She let out a sigh as she dropped it to the floor and picked up the next one. This one had a pale reddish stain on the sleeve, faded but still visible. Strawberry jam? Blackberry juice? A memento from one of the children, no doubt—and unacceptable.
She threw it over her shoulder, letting it land wherever it may, then reached for another. This, too, had a stain and was so old, the fabric was as sheer as gossamer. It went on the floor with the others. As did the next and the next, all discarded for one reason or another, until the drawer held no more and only the sachet in the corner remained, the muted fragrance of roses meeting her nose.
She sat heavily on the bed, one plain nightgown clutched in her hand, the only one without a rip or a stain, but still not what she was looking for. Tears misted her vision.
This is hopeless. I’m hopeless! How am I supposed to seduce a man when I don’t know what to do? Or have anything enticing to wear? And how am I ever going to manage to wait until midnight without driving myself to insanity?
A heavy sigh escaped her.
I can’t do this. I should just retrieve the note. He’ll never have to know.
She rose from the bed, strode toward the open French doors leading out to the small balcony and froze. Jake ambled toward the bunkhouse.
Too late! It was only a matter of time before he saw her invitation. Now she had no choice but to follow through.
Slipping back into her room, her heart hammering in her chest, her mouth dry, she sank into the vanity chair and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
“Well, you certainly got yourself into a mess, didn’t you?”
The image in her mirror merely stared back at her.
Jake loved it when he finished his chores early…well, at least they were done until everyone came in from the summer pasture. He had a few moments to himself and truthfully, wanted to spend them with Evie, but she hadn’t been outside when he left the barn. He’d seen her earlier, when she supervised his continuing riding lessons as well as his training of Cinnamon, and then he’d seen her again when she’d been sitting with her friend Marisol, but after the woman left, Evie had disappeared into the house. He admitted enjoying watchingthem and hearing the occasional burst of laughter carried by the breeze. Evie’s most especially.
He couldn’t just go up to the door of the main house and knock, could he? Maybe invite her on a walk down to the little house to pick blackberries again. He had enjoyed that, much more than he ever thought he would. Maybe he could ask her to ride with him out to the summer pasture. Despite Clementine almost killing him, he had liked that, too, but suspected it was because he enjoyed her company more than anything else.
He couldn’t quite bring himself to march across the lawn and knock on the door. She may be napping with the children. If she was, he didn’t want to interrupt.
An image popped into his brain of Evie curled up on the bed, one of the children—or possibly two—sleeping against her, a sweet smile on her face as she dreamed.
