Wild Mustang. Jane ToombsЧитать онлайн книгу.
he could love. And she could always come back and visit Sage from time to time. She wished she could postpone a decision, but realized there wasn’t time to shilly-shally. She had to decide now.
“It scares me,” she confessed.
“Probably scares the stuffing out of Shane, too,” Grandfather countered. “Never saw a man so dead set on not marrying again.”
Maybe so, but women were more vulnerable than men in some ways. Could she trust a man she didn’t really know? On the other hand, Grandfather trusted him to keep his word, and he’d known Shane from birth.
“It would have to be a very private wedding,” she said.
Grandfather smiled at her, then reached for her hand and brought her palm to his chest. “Your words warm my heart,” he told her, releasing her hand.
She was touched by his gesture. At the same time she was shaken by the realization that she’d agreed to what seemed to her the wildest scheme in the world. Yet her main emotion was relief that the decision had been made, combined with the surprising sense that she was embarking on an adventure.
Laura shook her head, aware she was the least adventurous person she knew. In some ways, though, she found herself looking forward to this one.
Because of Sage, she assured herself. The girl needed her. Shane certainly didn’t, except for legal reasons, and she didn’t need him at all. Things really wouldn’t be any different between the two of them.
Grandfather rose from his chair. “You bring honor to the Bearclaws,” he told her before heading for the back door.
What a strange thing for him to say, though his words had pleased her. She rose and brought the glasses to the sink where she washed them and put them in the drainer. If she was going to live here, it was time to make herself useful. She began assembling the ingredients for the enchiladas, following the recipe Sage had left out for her.
Laura was sliding the chicken enchiladas into the oven when she heard the unmistakable click of Shane’s boots. She froze, made a face at herself, and went on with what she was doing, ignoring the panicked hammering of her heart.
When he entered the kitchen she was closing the oven door. Straightening, she blurted, “I told Grandfather we’d get married.”
He blinked. Had he changed his mind? Half of her hoped so, but the other, traitorous half waited to hear him say he hadn’t.
Shane tried to figure out what to say. Sure, he’d asked her because he couldn’t see any other way, but he’d been damn near positive she’d never agree.
“I warned him I expected a private ceremony,” she went on.
God knows he did, too. “No problem. Just Grandfather and Sage and the—” He paused. “Never got around to asking. Minister, priest, or justice of the peace?”
“I’d prefer a civil ceremony. A JP will be fine.”
He nodded. Seemed more appropriate for the kind of marriage they were heading into.
“Grandfather will keep the paper you sign,” she added.
“Paper?”
“Agreeing not to expect me to—well, we’ll have separate rooms and such.”
Shane watched her flush. He wanted to smile, but was aware he’d better not. “You can be sure I’ll never approach you in that way unless—” He paused, watching her as he finished, “—unless you want me to. Unless you decide to move into my bedroom.”
“Never!” She made a thrusting away motion with her hands at the same time as the word burst from her.
“I’ll sign the paper,” he said hastily, sorry to have provoked the distress he saw in her face.
What the hell were they doing, the two of them? Something neither wanted, that was for sure. But he’d do anything to keep Sage and, thankfully, Laura was already fond enough of his sister to agree.
It’d work out, he told himself. It’s the right thing to do. But, as he left the kitchen, he had the distinct feeling that old Coyote, the Trickster, was keeping an eye on the pair of them and laughing his head off.
Why shouldn’t he be? Getting attached to someone led to trouble. Love led straight to grief, as his first marriage had proved. If he wasn’t so fond of his sister, he’d never have gotten himself into this predicament. Here he was, not only having to marry a perfect stranger, but a woman he’d never choose if he really did want a wife.
Later, in bed for the night, he found himself thinking of Laura, sleeping down the hall from him in what would continue to be her bedroom after their marriage. He’d sign her damn paper and abide by what was written, no argument there, but it was beginning to occur to him that part of the deal wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d assumed.
It wasn’t as though he’d gone without a woman all these years—there were plenty of available women no more interested in marriage than he was. But once he married, it’d be all over the res if he played around. With his custody of Sage in the balance, he couldn’t afford to have that happen. No wonder the Trickster laughed—the joke was on Shane Bearclaw.
Laura might not be his type, but she was certainly an attractive woman in her quiet way—any man would agree with that. Yet he’d already given his word he wouldn’t touch her, without thinking that he’d be pretty well hobbled when it came to touching any other woman, either. He’d be looking forward to pure frustration.
Unless she changed her mind—he’d left that loophole. Chances of that seemed dim. Something about men—he didn’t think it was just him—spooked her. It came from her past, and she’d refused to discuss it with him. Which was her privilege. Except now, as he figured it, if she didn’t come around to telling him about whatever had happened, she’d remain spooked.
A shame a pretty woman like Laura was so hung up on her past that she couldn’t even contemplate making love with any man, even her about-to-be husband, without panicking.
A formidable challenge.
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