Stolen Little Thing (Little Thing Series Book 1) (5 page)

Esme sat on a chair near the bedroom window in a pool of late afternoon sunlight. She closed her novel and set it aside to listen to the sounds coming from various parts of Luke’s house. In the kitchen below women spoke in Spanish discussing the evening meal. It was to be enchiladas from the sound of things. Esme imagined Luke’s wife somewhere downstairs, moving serenely amongst her servants, ordering the dinner exactly to her husband’s liking, picking out a bottle of wine perhaps, and seeing to the table setting.

Esme’s stomach clenched. The sorrow of losing Luke had dissipated over the years, or so she’d thought, but being near him, particularly in his home, made grief well up once more, black and cold.

His room, or rather the room he shared with his wife, was next to hers, and she could hear him through the walls. His footsteps reverberated along the wood floor and occasionally Esme could hear him whistling a tune. He slammed drawers and cupboards with a force that startled her with each bump or crash. It was no wonder her progress through the novel was hindered with what sounded like an elephant in the next room.

He’d poked his head in the doorway one time to see that all her trunks were up and another time to tell her dinner would be ready in forty-five minutes. All the boys would join them, he’d said. He grinned when she wrinkled her nose.

“All those boys come to dinner? Every evening?”

“Every evening,” he replied. “We’re a family. Nolan and his wife come too.” A short while later he came in again, his hair wet from bathing, his face freshly shaven. He stood in her doorway, and leaned against the frame, making small talk about the weather, Honey Creek, telling her the library had a piano and plenty of books. When he’d left she heard him humming as he went downstairs. Though Luke had appeared in her door several times, Mrs. Crosby had yet to make an appearance.

Earlier, Maria, the upstairs maid, helped her unpack trunks and had shown Esme the house. The idea of asking the woman about Luke’s wife crossed Esme’s mind, but she couldn’t imagine how to frame the words in a careless enough way. She also couldn’t imagine what sort of woman wouldn’t introduce herself to her houseguest. As a result of Mrs. Crosby’s lapse in etiquette, Esme would first meet the woman over dinner, the dinner they would endure with a herd of grubby boys.

With a sigh, she rose from her chair and brushed her auburn hair. The mirror was set in cherry wood scrollwork and hung over a marble table. It looked like it had come from a salon in Vienna or Paris. Maria told Esme that Mrs. Eleanor Crosby, Luke’s mother, was English and grew up in London. Apparently, she had kept her refined ways in spite of living on the fringes of the new world.

Everything about the house was elegant, Esme thought, so unlike what she imagined a ranch house would be. Portraits hung on the walls, several of Mr. and Mrs. Crosby with Luke as a young man. The impressive staircase would have drawn gasps of admiration from her parents. It spanned over ten feet across and was carpeted with a wide Oriental runner and was flanked by an ornate mahogany balustrade. Esme’s room had enormous windows that flooded the room with sunlight, and the walls were papered with a primrose print, making it feel as if it had been designed with a woman or perhaps a little girl in mind.

But the elder Crosbys had been childless until they adopted Luke, Esme remembered, as she arranged her hair. Their lack of offspring provided a reversal of fortune for Luke. Their loss was Luke’s gain.

Esme studied her reflection in the mirror. Wickedly, she’d chosen one of her most flattering dresses to meet Luke’s wife, an emerald green frock. She would greet the woman feeling confident, even regal she thought as she touched the strand of pearls around her neck.

“Hello Mrs. Crosby, may I call you Consuelo? I’ve heard so much about you and your brood. How many brats do you have running around exactly? I do appreciate your hospitality. Terribly sorry for the imposition. Your husband sawed a tree down causing it to topple across my home so he could keep me here.”

Esme smoothed her dress. She would need to order work dresses to be made for the ranch, but tonight she wouldn’t feel guilty dressing more formally.

She was surprised to find candlelight glowing in the dining room. Esme searched the chairs for Luke’s wife, but most were filled with wriggling boys. Nolan and his wife, Loretta, and Luke filled the remaining seats. Luke was seated at the head of the table. He got up, settled his hand on her shoulder, cleared his throat and waited for the group’s attention. No one seemed to notice. Joseph was arguing with a boy named Salvador about who snored the loudest. Several other boys tapped their water glasses with teaspoons, trying to create a melody. Esme recognized the first bars of a childhood song.

Each boy was dressed in a crisp white shirt just like Luke’s, and every boy’s hair was combed neatly, but that was where the semblance of order and tidiness stopped. Never had Esme seen such an unruly and unrestrained dining room. Two boys were laughing about a joke and promptly fell to the floor, a mishap that provoked more laughter and teasing. Not one of them paid Luke the least bit of attention.

Nolan raised his fingers to his mouth and whistled. That made the group quiet. The two boys, who had fallen, got up from the floor and climbed back into their chairs. The group grew solemn, their eyes shining in the soft candlelight. Their gazes drifted from Luke’s face to Esme’s and back again.

“Gentlemen, this is Miss Duval,” Luke said. “She’ll be staying here with us.” He proceeded to introduce each boy. David and Joseph she knew, of course, from the trip to Honey Creek, and the others: Salvador, Daniel, James, Justin, and Henry. She nodded to Nolan and Loretta.

Joseph, the eldest, jumped to his feet and pulled out the chair for Esme. He smiled politely and nodded.

“I declare,” Nolan’s wife said over the rim of a wine glass. “Look at those fine manners, Luke. I believe having another lady at the table might civilize this group after all. Lord knows I can’t do it alone.”

Esme sat and smiled at Loretta, unfolded her napkin, and settled it on her lap. Loretta was a handsome woman, who, like Nolan, was about fifty. Her grey eyes held a glint of humor and her hair was a magnificent swathe of chestnut she’d pulled up in a bun. She wore a burgundy velvet dress that was every bit as formal as Esme’s. After admiring the older lady for a moment, Esme searched the table but, aside from Loretta, she found nothing but men and boys. The torture of waiting to meet Luke’s wife was simply too much for her to bear a moment longer.

“Where is Mrs. Crosby?” she asked Luke softly.

Conversation died away. People shifted in their seats giving each other confused looks. Nolan lifted his glass of whiskey and drained it setting it on the table with a loud bang. “That’s just exactly what Loretta and I want to know. We been asking for a long time now. Where
is
Mrs. Crosby?”

The boys snickered and giggled.

“There’s no Mrs. Crosby,” Luke said to Esme. A scowl spread across his features. “Did you think I was married?”

The boys leaned forward in their chairs, awaiting her response. The candlelight made their wide eyes shine with twinkles of curiosity and mirth. Esme heard the grandfather clock in the corner ticking loudly, the pendulum swaying back and forth.

Esme flushed and stared at Luke in bewilderment. “I thought you were married to a woman named Consuelo.”

Several of the boys sputtered and snorted to keep from laughing. They tried to conceal their amusement with coughs.

“Did that lady just say Consuelo?” Salvador asked another in a loud whisper.

They jostled, elbowed, and leaned forward, awaiting what Luke might say about that. One boy fell out of his chair again, and the attention was diverted to getting him settled. It was a collective effort that involved scoldings, a few oaths, and finally a slightly changed seating arrangement. Finally the boys turned back to Luke, craning their necks, waiting to hear his response.               Before Luke could say anything, the door from the kitchen swung open, and the Mexican woman Esme had seen earlier in the farmyard burst into the room carrying a steaming platter of enchiladas.

“Ha!” she proclaimed. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that. Luke would love to be married to me. He proposes every time I make enchiladas, but I’m married to Roberto.” She set the platter on the table, turned to face Esme. “Luke only loves me for my cooking anyway.”

Nolan nodded his head. “Hell, I’d ask Consuelo to marry me, if I didn’t already have a missus.”

Loretta winked at Esme. “I’m practically famous for my bad cooking.”

Consuelo snorted, turning back to the kitchen and waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder. David grinned at his companions and called out a proposal to Consuelo as the woman disappeared into the kitchen. Her reply, a flurry of Spanish, resounded through the swinging door.

“Let’s pray so we can eat,” Luke said quietly. Everyone bowed their heads. “David, your turn,” Luke directed. The boy stood and said Grace, and as soon as the boys said Amen, they pushed their chairs back and descended upon the food like Viking raiders. Within moments, they’d returned to their seats with laden plates.

Loretta noticed Esme’s dismay and misinterpreted it. “We always let the locusts eat first. Don’t worry, Consuelo has plenty.”

Esme blinked. She was hardly aware of the boy’s ravenous appetites. She could only think back to the day when her father had summoned her to the library and announced Luke Crosby was married with a baby on the way. The memory of that moment had played in her mind a thousand times since.

“You should thank me for never sending any of your ridiculous letters to that mongrel.” Her father had gloated as he tossed the bundle of envelopes across the expanse of his desk.

Loretta frowned at her. “Would you like a small glass of wine? You look a little pale.”

Esme shook her head. “No, thank you, Loretta.”

Luke leaned toward Esme and spoke softly. “You and I need to talk.” He drew her from the table, leading her down the hall and out the door. Outside, the moon cast a soft glow upon the trees. The cloudless night was calm and still. Amidst the chaos of her thoughts, Esme reveled in the feel of his hand enveloping hers. Rough, warm, his touch reminded her of the kiss they’d shared.

“My father told me years ago you were married and had children,” she tried to explain. “I never doubted him.”

Luke turned and dropped her hand. His face was a mask of fury, an expression Esme remembered from years ago when he fought everyone who crossed his path.

“I’m not married,” he shot back. “Your father lied to you. He told me to stay away from you or he’d disinherit you.”

Esme shook her head. “My father won’t give me any inheritance. He never intended to leave me anything at all. I think that’s why Simon left me the ranch. My father says he doesn’t want his money to go to the man I marry.”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “So that explains why you were so hot under the collar with me. You thought I had a wife waiting for me at home?”

Esme turned away from him, not wanting to relive the strange mixture of desire and humiliation she’d felt. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the absurdity of it all. The years of misspent anger and resentment, waiting for word from him when he’d been warned away, even the dress she’d picked for tonight seemed ridiculous; a choice she’d made to give a woman who didn’t exist some sort of set down. Esme thought of the scandal this would cause amongst her family and friends in San Antonio. She, Esme Duval, living with Luke Crosby.

“I can’t stay here,” Esme said softly. “As an unmarried woman I can’t remain under the same roof with an unmarried man.”

“This is exactly where you should be if your father comes looking for you.”

“He won’t look for me until the school year is over in late May. I gave him every indication that I would wait until then to come to the ranch.”

Luke shook his head. “He’s looking for you now. Consuelo told me four men were by last night asking for you, a few of your Daddy’s boys. They said Mr. Duval would pay for information about you.”

Esme shrank away. “No!” It wasn’t possible that her father could have found out she’d left San Antonio so quickly. Months would pass without her hearing a word from her father or mother, even though they lived in the same town. Her thoughts reeled. If he knew, he could come riding up at any moment and put an end to her plans.

Luke shook his head. “I wonder just how much old Randolph is willing to shell out for his little girl.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke shrugged. “I suppose he would pay a pretty penny to keep you out of harm’s way. I could use a little extra cash.”

Esme gave him an indignant look. “You wouldn’t sell me out.” She stared at him in disbelief.

Luke gave the impression of mulling over the idea of a windfall. “I could do a few nice things for the boys. Henry needs a pony, him being so short and all. He’s a little skittish about the horses we have. I suppose I could get him a pretty nice one for whatever your daddy’s willing to hand over.”

“I’m being traded for a pony?” Esme folded her arms across her chest and gave him a sideways glance.

Luke shrugged. “I don’t necessarily want to part with you now that I have you, but he never said I had to hand you over. He just wants news of your whereabouts.”