The Unexpected Bride (Montana Born Brides) (4 page)

“I wondered where Bobo’s spare blanket had gone,” Laurent responded, chuckling in spite of himself.
Emma inhaled. Humor! But then his face darkened again. “I guess I haven’t spent enough time playing with them, showing them things.”

Her heart went out to him at this sudden flash of self-insight and as she saw the distress in his face.
“Hey, you’ve been doing just fine with them. Anyway, that’s what I’ve been hired for. To establish a regular playtime routine, stimulate their imaginations and help them learn in a supportive environment.”

“You’re sounding like the nanny school manual again,” Laurent remarked, his tone teasing.

Emma heard the humorous note in his voice and she laughed. “Sorry,” she responded mock-sheepishly. “But, you know, I really do think the marble jars could work. We don’t know unless we try,” she added, hoping to finally cajole him into agreeing.

Laurent raked his hand through his hair, making the spikes in it stand up even more, and then rubbed the back of his neck, two gestures with which Emma was becoming familiar, and which she knew meant he was weighing things up.
She mentally crossed her fingers.

“Sure…” he said slowly.
“Look, I was planning to go into town myself later this afternoon. I have to go check up on some things at our showroom store. There’s a toy shop on the next block that we can visit for your marbles. And I guess we’ll be able to get the jars either from the Big Z hardware store at Front and Third, or The Mercantile on Main.”

“That sounds brilliant!” Emma replied, delighted by his offer and this apparent change of heart. “But what about Evie and Jerome?
I would prefer to get the marbles and jars without them knowing, so that I can organize things. Linda will be gone after lunch.”

“I’ll give my mom and dad a call.
They love having them, and the kids enjoy being with their grandparents. We can drop them off on our way into town.”

“That’s amazing,” Emma said.
“Thanks for your support,” she added a touch more shyly, smiling her gratitude.

Laurent nodded and smiled too.
They stood in silence for a few moments, then she sensed him withdraw again and his eyes slid back to his furniture. There was another awkward pause and Emma could tell that he was ending their conversation. But no matter. She had got far more from him that she’d expected.

“Okay, well, I’d better go and wake up the children, and get them ready for breakfast.
Will you be joining us?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Laurent responded unenthusiastically.
Emma had come to realize that he hated mealtimes with his children, probably because they could still be unruly on occasion and, she’d noticed, he wasn’t that comfortable talking to them for any length of time. He picked up a tool that was lying nearby.

She took that as her final cue to turn and leave, hearing Bobo give a large doggy yawn behind her from his armchair bed as she exited.

Laurent turned and watched her departing back, swathed by waves of her silky, white-blond hair which was caught up in a high ponytail. She was so damned pretty! He felt something in his chest tighten. She was half angel and half temptation. She’d already worked small wonders with the kids; though he loved them, they could still be little horrors, but actually he could also see that they’d calmed down quite a lot. And it was great how she spent time with them, listening to them, encouraging them; hugging them like a mother would. But then he’d catch sight of her—those sparkling aqua eyes, the curve of her breast, the length of her neck—and something primal would stir in him. He fought with himself to suppress it. He wouldn’t dream of going there, not only because it would be inappropriate, but also because he still held Brooke’s memory close and he wouldn’t betray her. That unfortunate affair with Eloise Dexter last year had proved to him that he still felt married in his heart. It would be a long time before he would be prepared to open up to a woman emotionally again.

If he was honest, he had been more than pleasantly surprised by Emma. But he envied her the ability she had to connect with his children in a way that he just couldn’t.
Pain filled his chest. If Brooke hadn’t given birth to Jerome…if he hadn’t made her pregnant…

He sighed and absently pushed his hand through his hair. How did he deal with these thoughts that kept on rising up and taunting him? He reminded himself that he hadn’t always been this gloomy guy.
Back before Brooke died…Maybe he should try to get to know Emma. If she were to go, they’d be back to where they’d been before she’d arrived, which wasn’t a good place. He needed to make more effort to keep her. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult to be cordial: she was friendly and interested; their chat just now had been okay. He’d surprised himself when he’d offered to take her into town, but she’d been keen and persuasive.

And when it came to how attractive she was, well, he could look but not touch.
He just wasn’t ready to deal with the consequences.

“Come on, crazy dog,” he called to Bobo, who raised his head and pricked up his ears at the sound of his master’s voice. “Let’s go do breakfast.”

Getting the children up, washed and ready had got a little easier than when Emma had first started out at Copper Creek, but it was still something of a drawn-out affair. The kids were hyperactive, filled with morning energy. Emma had got Evie to start dressing herself, which was a major leap forward, but the little girl was fussy about her clothes, wanting to pull out almost every single garment she owned and toss them in a heap before she decided on her outfit for the day, which was often composed of some odd combinations and clashing colors. Emma had decided that, right now, it wasn’t helpful to stop Evie if she wanted to wear a pink-and-turquoise swirly-patterned tunic with bright red-and-yellow striped leggings—as she did this morning. It was a real achievement that she was putting the clothes on, and zipping and buttoning up by herself. Jerome, meantime, was doing his usual thing of running about like a small Whirling Dervish, as naked as the day he’d been born, and Emma had to carefully catch him and coax him, as he slipped and slithered about, to let her dress him.

The tasks of getting ready done, Emma escorted the kids downstairs to the dining area.
Linda had arrived and was in the kitchen, getting breakfast together. Emma was grateful for the older woman’s capable support; having to prepare food as well as get the children ready and then settled at the table would have been too much to contemplate.

Laurent was already seated, poring over the local daily newspaper on his tablet, juice, coffee and a plate of bacon, eggs, hash browns, fruit and toast before him, while Bobo sat expectantly under the table waiting for the tasty morsels that he hoped would fall his way.
Laurent looked up as Emma shepherded the children into their chairs. She saw his shoulders set slightly as Jerome picked up his fork and flung it across the table top, gurgling gleefully.

Emma calmly retrieved the fork and put it back in its rightful place, giving Laurent a warning look as she could sense that he was about to say something.
She wanted to keep things calm. “Hey,” she said breezily, “are you ready for your eggs?” Linda has made toast soldiers for you.” Emma had introduced the children to the British custom of eating soft-boiled eggs with strips of buttered toast.

“Yeah!” Evie and Jerome chorused together, and at that moment, Linda arrived right on cue with a tray.
Emma helped unload the food, and soon the children were happily, if messily, dipping their toast strips into the runny yolks of their eggs.

Laurent bent over to wipe a trickle from
Evie’s chin with a napkin with impatient strokes. Emma, who was helping Jerome dunk his toast and eat it, leaned over almost without thinking and touched Laurent’s arm to prevent him following up with an inevitable grumble. He stopped what he was doing and surveyed her with narrowed eyes. Emma withdrew her arm. She held his gaze and saw the conflicting emotions that warred there as he checked himself.

Evie broke the standoff by plonking her toast soldier into her egg with renewed vigor, and egg yolk splattered both Emma and Laurent on their faces.
They sat there in continuing silence for a few more moments, and Emma expected Laurent to react negatively. But then she saw the yellow egg dripping off his nose and couldn’t suppress a small giggle. She clapped her hand over her mouth to hide her mirth but, to her amazement, Laurent joined her, his face cracking open into a huge smile, then breaking out into laughter while attempting to catch the drips with the back of his hand.

Evie looked up from her breakfast and said in an accusing voice, “You’ve got egg on your nose, Daddy.
You look stupid!”

“I have, and I do,” Laurent said, gulping down his amusement.
“Do you want to wipe it off?” he asked Evie, handing her his napkin. “Otherwise, I’ll have Bobo lick it off.” He sat patiently as the little girl stood on her chair and buffed his face clean.

As she cleaned her own face with a tissue, Emma’s heart lifted at the scene of father and daughter together.
After weeks of tense, unhappy mealtimes, it was lovely to watch Laurent dropping his guard and getting down to his daughter’s level, making light of an accident and sharing a happy moment. Could sunlight be breaking through the clouds that surrounded him?

After that, breakfast continued along peacefully, Laurent surprising Emma further by talking to his kids and supervising Evie with almost no trace of the reservation that had hindered him before. When it was over, Emma installed the children in the den with Bobo to watch a DVD, while she helped Linda clear up.
She was gathering crockery and cutlery from the table when Laurent came over and leant against a nearby cupboard, watching her, his arms folded.

“Have you survived your egging?” she said conversationally, while she continued stacking plates, glad of something to distract her from the nearness of him.

Laurent’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. “It was good to see the kids actually finish their food, even if half of it didn’t quite make it into their mouths.”

Emma stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. “They’re making big strides,” she confirmed encouragingly, and then added, “and you were so good with Evie today.
It really worked when you let her clean you up.”

Laurent unfolded his arms and put his hands on the dresser, his posture less stiff. He glanced down at the floor for a few seconds and then up again at Emma intently. “For the first time in a long time, I saw the funny side,” he admitted.
“I think you should be taking the compliments. You’re beginning to work small miracles. The kids seem much happier and calmer; they’re sitting down and eating, playing nice, and you’re getting them off to sleep most nights.”

“Why, thank you!” Emma felt her cheeks go pink with pleasure at his unexpected honesty and praise. “It’s not perfect by any means, but we’re getting there.”

“When you first arrived, I thought about sending you right back,” Laurent admitted starkly. “I guess I was pissed at my dad for hiring you and making it obvious that he thought I couldn’t cope with the kids.”

“I know. But I’m really grateful you gave me the benefit of the doubt and let me stay.”
She paused, suddenly feeling a lump of emotion in her throat and not being sure why. She averted her gaze.

“I’m glad I did,” he said softly. Then he extended his hand.

She looked back at him, for a moment not knowing what to do, but then realizing that he was offering a rather formal gesture of thanks, she took his hand and shook it. “I’m glad you did, too.”