Wish Upon a Cowboy (4 page)

"With you, of course," she said and gave him a look that clearly said she thought he was the one whose train had slipped its track.

He bit back an oath as lightning flashed.

Hannah's smile didn't falter. Not even when he drew his head back and stared at her as though she'd suddenly sprouted horns.

Of course he was surprised, she told herself. He simply needed a little time to get used to the idea. After all, Eudora had always told her that no man wants to get married. Why should the Mackenzie be any different?

However, she hadn't expected a warlock from a family as distinguished as his to be quite so surly.

"Hannah," he said finally in a tone that was almost a growl. "You are not staying here."

"Oh, you'll find me good to have around, I assure you. I'm an excellent cook and I've won first prize the county fair three years running for my quilts."

"That's real nice," he said, giving her a smile barely touched his eyes. "But it doesn't change a thing. You can't—"

"Isn't it a glorious day?" she asked, tipping her head back to enjoy the deep, clear blue of the sky and was surprised to see banks of clouds scudding across its surface. She didn't think she'd ever seen a storm blow in so quickly.

"Storm coming," he said shortly.

"I see that. She watched him and could have sworn she saw the storm reflected in his eyes.

She patted the arm he had wrapped around her middle and absently noted the muscular strength of him. Her stomach did an odd little flip-flop and she sucked in a deep breath to steady it. "You'll see, Mackenzie. We'll be good together."

Oh, she would be the first to admit that she hadn't much cared for the idea of marrying a man she didn't know. But now that she'd had a good look at the Mackenzie, she felt much better about the whole thing.

His black hair was a bit too long; it curled atop his shirt collar and poked out from beneath his dirt-brown hat. But his sapphire-blue eyes glittered with intelligence and his hard, whisker-shadowed jaw looked as strong as the arm he kept tight around her.

She could almost feel the power that surrounded him. Surely this was the man who could defeat Blake Wolcott and protect her, Eudora, and the members of the Crafters' Guild. Once they were married and back in Massachusetts, everything would be as it should be.

Besides, hadn't Hepzibah taken an immediate liking to him?

"We're not doing anything, lady," he said with quiet determination. "I am taking you to the nearest wagon and sending you back to wherever you came from."

She sighed. Why was he being so difficult? "It's a long way to Massachusetts."

He muttered something she didn't quite catch, and judging by his expression, she should be relieved about that.

"Fine," he said quietly. "One of my boys will drive you into town."

"But I don't want to leave. I only just got here," she tossed a quick look at the row of log buildings they were fast approaching. "Wouldn't it be better if I settled in right away?"

Pulling in a deep breath, he looked down at her. "We are not getting' married, Hannah, so you can't stay here. You don't need to settle in."

"I hadn't expected you to be so stubborn," she said and folded her arms across her chest. Leaning back against him, she stared straight ahead, barely noticing the working cowboys and the milling cattle.

He laughed shortly. "Lady, you could give lessons in stubborn."

She'd heard that most of her life and she supposed it was true. But stubbornly clinging to your convictions was a good thing, wasn't it? And if it took every ounce of her fairly formidable will she would marry Jonas Mackenzie.

Too much was at stake for her to accept failure.

Briefly, the image of her town and the frightened people there rose up in her mind. She must succeed. There was no other choice.

With his strong arm still wrapped around her stomach and the solid, warm strength of him pressed to her back, Hannah felt more certain than ever that the Mackenzie was the answer to her problems. The only trouble was in making him see reason.

Frowning to herself, she thought that maybe she'd gone about this initial meeting all wrong. Maybe she shouldn't have announced her intention to marry him right off that way. It really wasn't surprising that he was so against marriage to a complete stranger, she supposed. After all his family had been gone from Massachusetts for so long, he probably didn't consider himself bound to the old ties.

Nodding to herself, Hannah decided that clearly he was going to need a little time to get used to the idea of marriage. Summer Solstice was still almost two months away. She could afford to be a bit more patient.

Perhaps she should invest a couple of weeks in letting him get to know her. See her in his house. Become accustomed to the idea of her presence.

Hannah smiled to herself. Yes. Two weeks should be enough, and that would still leave plenty of time for them to be married.

"Mackenzie," she said.

"Call me Mac," he grumbled. "Or Jonas."

"Jonas, then."

"Fine. What is it?"

"I've decided that we shouldn't get married right away."

He sighed again and his breath brushed the top of her head. "That's real good, Hannah."

"Instead, I believe I'll become your cook," she twisted on his lap to look at him again.

This time he groaned slightly, muffling the sound by clenching his jaw so tight, Hannah was surprised it didn't snap.

"Thanks, but I've already got a cook," he said. "Juana's been with me for a year now."

"Oh, dear," she murmured. "That is a problem."

"Thought you might see it that way."

"But," Hannah added thoughtfully, "perhaps she could use a nice long rest."

He grumbled something again, then said, "Juana doesn't need rest. Believe me."

"Hmmm… " Hannah's mind was whirling, looking for a solution to this newest development. How could she work her way into Jonas's house and his affections if he already had a cook who wasn't even interested in taking some time off?

Blast Blake Wolcott and the boat that had brought him from England! This was all his fault. If the British warlock weren't so hungry for power, none of this would have happened and she could be safely at home now.

Jonas pulled his horse to a stop alongside an older man whose gaze locked on her suspiciously. "Elias," Jonas said and swung down from the saddle, "take Miss Lowell back to town."

Back to town? She couldn't leave. Not yet. Not until she'd come up with a solution.

"Oh, but I—" Hannah began.

Jonas grabbed her off the horse and dropped her on her feet. "It's better that you just go, Hannah," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear him.

Looking up into the clear, cold blue of his eyes, Hannah could only nod. He'd won this round, but the game was hardly finished.

"All right," she said, her voice as low as his had been. "But I'll be back tomorrow."

"Hannah…"

"You never know," she said, lifting one hand to push her hair out of her eyes. "Juana may change her mind about taking some time off."

"Like I said," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Stubborn."

"Birds of a feather," she pointed out.

His lips tightened and he turned back to his horse.

"What about that?" Elias asked.

"What now?" Jonas demanded.

The older ma's gray gaze shifted to the cat still clinging to Jonas's shirt. He'd almost forgotten about the damned thing. But then, who could blame him? Reaching up, he pulled at the animal and then, one by one, released its clawed paws before handing the animal to Hannah.

The little cat yowled its displeasure.

Hannah smiled. "She likes you."

Jonas shook his head again, tipped his hat to her, swung back into the saddle, and turned his horse toward the herd. "Hannah," he said with a half smile, "it's been real interesting."

Then, with a jab of his heels, he set the horse into a trot that carried him quickly away.

She watched him for a long moment, studying his easy posture in the saddle and the muscular width of his back. She sighed gently and tried to ignore the tiny ripples of awareness shifting and tugging at every nerve in her body.

The Mackenzie was much more man than she'd expected. She only hoped his skills as a warlock compared in kind.

"Ma'am," Elias said, and Hannah tore her gaze from her retreating would-be bridegroom. "You come with me, I'll see you get to town."

"Thank you," she said and dutifully followed him. It didn't matter where she went today. Tomorrow she would be back. Because by then, she vowed—a little guiltily at the thought of the poor, unsuspecting Juana—Jonas Mackenzie would be needing a cook.

*  *  *

Her campfire was a small one, just big enough to boil water for the tea she'd purchased in town. Digging into the carpetbag she'd had to ask Elias to retrieve from the field for her, she pulled out a small leather pouch and carefully opened the ties holding it closed.

Instantly, the combined scents of several dried herbs lifted from the pouch and teased her nostrils, reminding her of the home that was too far away. Hannah closed her eyes and brought up the mental image of Aunt Eudora, sitting in her favorite rocker in a corner of their cozy kitchen. She could see the flickering shadows of firelight playing across the older woman's features and could almost feel the serenity that always seemed to surround her aunt.

A long, mournful howl somewhere in the distance splintered Hannah's comforting daydream and she opened her eyes to stare off into the darkness just beyond her fire.

Only a few hours ago, she'd been filled with delight at being free of the almost suffocating atmosphere of dark power hovering over Creekford. It had been too long since she'd felt the urge to run or dance in a field. Wolcott had stolen even that from her. Now, though, as she looked into the darkness surrounding her, Hannah wished fervently that she was home again.

Evil warlock or no, Wyoming was too big. Too… dark. Tall trees marched in formation for as far as she could see. It had rained that afternoon and the smell of the damp forest floor plucked at her nerves in its strangeness. Again, that distant animal howled and this time Hepzibah mewed and curled up on Hannah's lap as if looking for protection.

"It's all right," she whispered, needing to hear the words herself. "Whatever that was won't bother us," she hoped aloud.

Shifting her gaze from the black shadows of the trees, she looked down the short incline to the Mackenzie's ranch. Squares of lamplight glimmered in the darkness and lay faint yellow patterns on the ground. She stared at the light for a long time, relishing the knowledge that she wasn't truly, completely alone in the darkness. Down there, the Mackenzie sat in his house, perhaps thinking of their encounter today and wondering where she was and what she was doing. What surprised her was that she was wondering the same thing about him.

*  *  *

Jonas stood up, stretched, and said, "I'm for bed. Need to get a couple hours sleep at least."

Elias nodded from his chair by the fire. His gnarled fingers deftly moved in the flickering light as he twisted and braided a length of rawhide into a bridle strap. "That was a right pretty gal here today."

Jonas shot the older man a look from over his shoulder. Since taking Hannah into town and leaving her there, Elias hadn't said a word about her. Until now.

"Yeah, she was," he agreed, although he thought pretty a fairly mild word to describe Hannah Lowell. The words beautiful, crazy, and irritating came to mind.

"Seems odd," Elias murmured, "come all the way from Massachusetts just to end up here."

Odder than the old man knew, Jonas thought. Apparently his would-be bride hadn't told Elias the real reason for her visit, and Jonas saw no point in telling the other man about her plans for a marriage that wouldn't happen.

She was gone. That's all that mattered.

Rubbing one hand across his whiskered jaw, he thought again, as he had all day, about clear green eyes, shining blond hair, and a mouth made for kissing. Damn it.

He didn't want to think about her anymore. He wouldn't be seeing her again and that's the way he wanted it. No sense in distracting himself with thoughts of her—or in talking about her to a nosy old coot who would only want to stay up half the night gossiping about the strangeness of her proposal.

"She got lost is all," he finally said, determined not to tell the other man about Hannah's outlandish story. It was late. He was tired. And he just plain didn't want to talk about it.

"Uh-huh," Elias muttered.

"Yeah, lost." Jonas turned for the far wall and the door that led to his bedroom. Already he was trying to figure out a way to wipe Hannah's face from his mind so he could sleep awhile before work began at dawn. "Wyoming's a big place. Easy enough to get lost in."

"Uh-huh."

All right, now he understood why that short phrase had bothered Hannah so much. In fact, it was downright irritating.

"Look, you old coot—"

Whatever he might have said was forgotten in the next moment, when a choked-off scream rattled through the room.

Juana.

Instantly, Jonas was off and running toward the kitchen and the side door, with Elias just one step behind him.

*  *  *

Hannah sprinkled the sweet-smelling herbs onto the fire and smiled when a dusting of sparks lifted toward the night sky. The combined scent of the herbs filled her mind and heart as she closed her eyes and whispered fervently, "Rivers from an ocean, streams from a brook. Hannah needs to be the Mackenzie's cook."

Opening her eyes again, she frowned slightly at the stars overhead and whatever gods were hiding behind their gentle, steady light. "I know my rhyming needs work, but perhaps you could make an exception in this case. Oh," she added quickly, "and please, I don't want anything terrible to happen to Juana, poor woman. It's not her fault that she has the job I need. Perhaps a good, nasty head cold? Just something that will keep her from her work for a while."

Smiling to herself, she thought that had gone fairly well. After all she didn't mean any harm to a hardÂworking woman. She only needed to get into the Mackenzie's household long enough to prove herself irreplaceable.