Stolen Little Thing (Little Thing Series Book 1) (12 page)

Luke’s expression darkened. “I can’t imagine what Rosalind must think about me. What’s important is what’s between us.”             

“But you didn’t…” Esme found it difficult to finish. The words hung in the air between them. She couldn’t imagine how to string them together to make up the question that gathered in her thoughts.

“What?”

“You didn’t care about the land or whatever money I might have had when you asked me to marry did you?”

His expression hardened. “Of course not.”

“Why did you marry me, Luke?”

The tension around his eyes eased. He brushed his smiling lips across her. “Let me take you upstairs and remind you.”

She frowned. “Tell me why first.”

He shrugged. “Because you’re you, that’s why.”

“Wasn’t there a reason?” She was being petulant. She knew it. Like a child demanding a sweet from the candy shop, and not just any candy, a particular sweet, or none at all. Luke demonstrated his love for her in every other way. He was caring and tender, but never did he say the words she yearned to hear, and it left her feeling vulnerable and unsure.

A growl rumbled in his chest. “Tell me something. Why is the person in the lasso asking all the darn questions? I married you because I wanted you from the very first time I laid eyes on you. I never thought about what money you had or what sort of acreage you owned. I married you because I could never imagine being married to another woman. Ever. Why don’t we turn this around and you tell me why you wanted to marry me, Esme Louise?”

Esme struggled against the rope around her arms. “Let me go.”

Luke shook his head. “Forget it. You look good in my lasso. Answer my question. Why did you marry me?”

“I married you because I love you!” She grimaced at her tone, one that sounded anything but loving. For some infuriating reason her husband responded with a grin.

He released the lasso and dropped it in a coil at her feet. “That is the reason your mother and father will never take you away from me. Never again.” He pulled her into his arms, silencing her with his kiss.

Luke Crosby began to suspect it had been a poor idea to rent Simon’s home to his mother-in-law, a poor idea for which he blamed Nolan. It was Nolan who advised him to let her have the house if she wanted; better to ingratiate oneself to a mother-in–law, he advised, than to snub her with a blunt refusal. Given time, the woman would come around, Nolan promised.             

Nolan was a man of his word, for come around she did, but not in the way Nolan imagined. Instead, Rosalind Duval came around each evening just in time for dinner, an arrival that necessitated an invitation. That was fine until dessert was served, when she began her thinly veiled criticism of him, of the foster boys, of men in general. Luke didn’t care if he was being criticized, least of all by her, but he didn’t like the boys exposed to the acid of her commentary.

Rosalind paid for a month of rent in advance, and grumbled about having to pay anything at all. Luke insisted. He wouldn’t allow one of Esme’s parents to get something for nothing. Neither Rosalind nor Randolph were worth much in his opinion. He couldn’t forget they’d kept Esme from him, forbidding the relationship years ago. Luke charged her double what he might have someone else, and sent the money to a charity in Honey Creek, one that had been a pet interest of his parents.

The subject of her mother paying rent neither bothered nor pleased Esme. The two women spent afternoons together here and there, and while a tentative truce held between them, Esme confided in Luke that she looked forward to her mother leaving again. Soon.

Nolan treated the subject of Luke’s irascible tenant like a great joke. On one hand, he lectured Luke about the serious business of getting along with a mother-in-law, as if the happiness of the marriage hinged on just that. On the other, he seemed to find the woman’s prickliness with Luke amusing. He and Loretta had a running bet on how long before there would be another fight in the corral, not between boys, but between Consuelo and Rosalind. Consuelo had been in a surly temper ever since Mrs. Duval arrived, and nothing could ease her ill humor. Rosalind’s negative remarks about the boys didn’t suit her. She didn’t like the boys being criticized by anyone but her.

There was more. Sometimes Luke thought Esme seemed different since her mother arrived, and that bothered him most of all. Their time alone together remained the best part of his day. Kind, sweet, and responsive, in private moments Esme gave more to him than he’d ever imagined she might, more than he felt he deserved. It was in the quiet time, just after lovemaking, that he thought he felt her retreat from him. It seemed she grew distant, almost fearful, and he didn’t know how to pursue her, or if he should.

The other worry, although it was a much smaller one, was about Rosalind living alone in Simon’s house. She had plenty of visitors, loud, shrieking ladies clad in bright dresses and enormous hats, who came for the day and then after a picnic lunch hurried home. Luke felt as though Rosalind was unsafe, since she had neither husband nor foreman on the premises. She lived in the house with only a cook and housekeeper, both of them older women as well.

Luke approached Simon’s house, and put his horse into a trot. In a nearby pasture, Esme’s sheep grazed. They were guarded by two ornery mules. The tinkling of the sheeps’ bells brought a faint smile to Luke’s lips. His gaze drifted down to the house down the hill.

At dawn he had seen a wagon along the ridge, and while his affection for his mother-in-law was tentative, especially this early in the morning, he’d felt an obligation to check on the woman. Perhaps a kidnapping was underway. With any luck the bandits would have already absconded with Mrs. Duval. God help them.

He had been in an irritable mood most of the morning. Already he’d had a talk with his lead boy that had gotten him hot under the collar. A week before, he’d given David fifty dollars and instructions that the barn needed painting. The project was turning into a party of sorts. A dozen or so boys from surrounding ranches were coming to help.

After the painting was done, David explained, Consuelo would feed them all dinner and then they’d play cards by a campfire. Nolan was going to teach them a few card playing strategies. Of course Nolan was at the bottom of all this. Only Nolan would view a chore as an opportunity, or even an obligation to throw a party.

To make matters worse, David saved a few dollars on paint purchasing what he’d described to Luke as “light red”, but really meant the barn was going to be pink. Nolan, who was already pleased with the prospect of the party, was only further amused by details concerning the color.

Over an early cup of coffee, Nolan had offered to make the ride over to Rosalind’s with him, but Luke declined his company. He needed to be alone.

Sure enough, when he reached Simon’s house he saw a wagon and draft horses, fine-looking animals hitched to the post. Several men worked to unload trunks from the back of the buckboard. Luke gritted his teeth. He expected Rosalind to leave any day, but not only was she staying, she appeared to be inviting guests.

Luke dismounted and tied his roan to a post and nodded to the men at work. He was about to say good morning when Rosalind called from the front door, waving and gesturing for Luke to come in.

Trunks were piled around the entrance, and Luke had to step out of one worker’s way. Behind him came the sound of a horse cantering. Nolan rode into the yard, astride a lathered chestnut gelding. While Rosalind chattered to the workers, Nolan hurried up the walkway.

Nolan nodded to Luke. “I didn’t want you to face the dragon lady by yourself, ‘specially since now it looks like she’s got more of her kind coming.”

Rosalind hurried into the foyer, past Luke. “Nolan, how delightful to see you!” She turned her face to offer her cheek for a kiss. Luke watched in amazement as Nolan gave her a winning smile and a light kiss.

“You’re looking wonderful this morning, Miss Rosalind, as usual.”

Luke noticed his mother-in-law’s cheeks flush. For a woman who didn’t have a good word for any man, Rosalind certainly had warmed to his foreman.

A gentleman walked into the front hallway, and Rosalind introduced him as her brother, Edgar Hubertus. The last name prompted Nolan to fire off several rounds of questions.

“Hubertus you say? My cousin went to school with some Hubertus kids,” Nolan exclaimed. “Are you related to Alice Hubertus?”

Edgar replied that he did not know Alice Hubertus, nor did he know the other four Hubertuses Nolan had heard of over the years. After a few moments the two men determined they had no common acquaintances, but in the course of conversing had drifted to the back porch with Luke following behind. The group settled in around a large wooden table.

Marta, Rosalind’s cook and Consuelo’s sister, descended upon the impromptu gathering with an urn of coffee and a promise of breakfast.

Luke sighed. How had a quick visit to check on his mother-in-law’s well being turned into a prolonged visit? He eyed Nolan with annoyance. The man was in the middle, describing how Simon Duval once bought a steer at auction, brought it home, and bragged to him and Roberto about the fine
bull
that he’d added to his breeding stock.

“Nobody had the heart to say the ol’ boy was missing something. The steer I mean – not Simon.” Nolan glanced at Rosalind. “I forget myself for talking so indelicately in front of a lady.” But she laughed and waved off his apology.

Edgar served coffee, handing Luke the first cup. “I understand congratulations are in order,” Edgar said.

Luke nodded. “That’s right. Esme has made me a very happy man.”

“My sister and I won’t be here long. We’re leaving for Italy in two days’ time.”

“Why you just got here!” Nolan protested.

Edgar smiled politely at Nolan before turning his gaze to Luke. “My sister hoped to prevail upon Esme to come with us.”

Luke stared incredulously. They wanted to take Esme. They wanted to take her not just on a little trip, but to Europe. “I see,” he said through gritted teeth.

Marta returned with breakfast, delicate pastries with savory fillings of cheese and sausage. She set the platter down along with plates and cutlery. She was gone a moment later.

Edgar continued. “Personally, I had wanted to go to Paris and Berlin. I’m a painter. Rome has less to offer a painter of my caliber, but my sister convinced me that we should set our sights there, so that Esme would be inclined to come along. My niece has a deep fascination with Latin and the Classics.”

Luke shifted in his chair.
A deep fascination
. . .

He and Esme never spoke of that. Of course he knew she liked to study those things. She’d even taken a number of books about some Roman senator from Simon’s library. The volumes lay unread on her bedside table.

Both Rosalind and Edgar kept their gaze fixed upon Luke as cold dread settled in his gut. Could his wife be convinced to leave him and go with them?

Nolan helped himself to Marta’s breakfast. “Pretty sure that girl’s not going anywhere. Esme and Luke are a pair of lovebirds. So you say you’re a painter, Ed?”

Edgar stared at Nolan for a moment until it dawned on him that he was being addressed.

“I am. My late wife and I traveled Europe, picking up techniques along the way.” He lifted his coffee cup to take a sip. “I don’t mean to boast, but we do have several pieces in galleries and museums in San Antonio and Austin. My wife was the real talent between the two of us, but I am certain that if she were alive, she would be the first to admit that had we not traveled and immersed ourselves in the work of the masters, neither of us would have enjoyed any success whatsoever.”

Nolan finished his pastry and dusted the crumbs off his shirt. “We’re having a painting party tomorrow, with dinner afterwards. Ya’all need to come. I don’t think our band of boys know the first thing about painting. You could show them some of those master techniques, like, for example, which end of the brush goes into the paint. That’d be a good place to start.”

Edgar’s look of surprise gave way to an approving smile. “It’s important to work with the under-privileged, to show them a glimpse into the arts. I would be honored to come and share my meager gleanings with them. Is that acceptable to you, Rosalind?”

Luke was only faintly aware that Nolan had invited more people to the party. All he could think of was that Rosalind would come to the ranch tomorrow and tempt Esme with ideas of travel. Perhaps they’d already discussed, it and this was why Esme had been so distant. Anger heated his blood as he wondered if she might not want to travel with these refined people, away from the dust and endless work with the boys.

“Good then, we’ll see you around noon.” Nolan rose from his chair. “Ready boss?”

Luke got to his feet and followed Nolan. The turmoil in his mind kept him from saying a polite good-bye.

“Mr. Crosby,” Edgar called.

Luke turned to face him.

“You wouldn’t mind if I ask my niece if she would care to accompany us on our trip, would you?”

Luke’s stare was dark and wrathful. Edgar was nonplussed.

Luke scowled. “You can ask whatever you please, Mr. Hubertus.”

Edgar nodded. His head jerked birdlike on his slender neck. The man, Luke thought, looked like a stork, his frail hands, fluttering with agitation, as if he might take wing and flap away.

“I only want what’s best for her,” Edgar said.

Luke fumed. Maybe in San Antonio, family members yanked women away from their husbands to go traipsing across foreign countries, but he’d never heard of it being done anywhere around Honey Creek. If Esme wanted to go to Europe, by God, he’d take her himself.

Nolan patted Luke on the shoulder, breaking his spiraling thoughts. He leaned down to pick up his hat and muttered to Luke. “I think I smell something burning – I think it’s your temper.”

Rosalind walked the men out, her arm threaded through Nolan’s and all but ignoring Luke. The yard was empty except for Nolan’s and Luke’s horses.

Edgar hung back on the porch while Rosalind walked down the path. The men got on their horses and trotted down the road in the mid-morning sunshine, small puffs of dust rising from the horses’ hooves.

Luke looked over his shoulder and shot a final look of contempt at Edgar.

Rosalind strolled toward her brother. “You see. That ogre doesn’t deserve my daughter.”

“Can you think of a man who does?”

Rosalind gave a snort and pushed past him while Edgar continued to watch the men ride away. The riders had almost ascended the top of the hill. How much had Luke Crosby changed, Edgar wondered. The last time he’d seen the boy, years ago, Luke was returning from what looked like quite a brawl, his shirt torn and bloodied. Then a few days ago, when Rosalind told him Esme was married to Luke Crosby, Edgar had nearly fainted from shock. Luke would prove to be even worse than Randolph, his sister promised. Esme was a favorite of both him and his late wife, and to think she wed such a man! Not all was lost though. Perhaps the situation could be salvaged. While it was a blemish on a family’s image, and a hardship for a young lady, to be sure, sometimes women left their husbands. Marriages, in the early stages, could be annulled. A trip abroad might be just the thing.