Grayson Brothers Series Boxed Set (4 books in 1) (87 page)

When his hips cleared the water, she vaulted from the chair and put her back to him. Laying two thick towels over the table, she asked, “Do you mind waiting to dress? It’ll make it easier to massage your back.”

He wouldn’t mind at all. He’d like nothing better than to help her out of her clothes and into the tub with him. “Maybe you should stretch my shoulder, too.”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I would recommend it, but it’s up to you.”

Forcing his sore muscles to stretch was the last thing he wanted, but he couldn’t wait for his shoulder to improve on its own. Resigned, he sat on the table. “Let’s get it over with.”

* * *

“You’ll have to lie on your back,” Faith said then turned herself away while he did so. When she turned back, she opened another linen and draped it over Duke’s hips and legs.

The sheriff glanced down and back up. “What’s that for?”

“I don’t want you catching a chill,” she explained. But she was the one shivering. Gracious, she had to get away from this half-naked warrior. “Sheriff, I... I think Iris can do a better job with your shoulder,” she said.

“I don’t want Iris.”

“But she’s better at—”

He wrapped his long fingers around her wrist. “I want you.”

She looked down at his handsome, water-speckled face, and couldn’t force another word from her throat.

“My name is Duke.”

He spoke softly, but she heard the command behind his words, and saw the hunger in his eyes. This man wanted more than a massage.

“May I call you Faith?” he asked.

Her flutter-birds beat their wings in panic. He was flat on his back, but the sheriff could easily overpower her. He could make her life miserable, run her out of town even, but it wasn’t his strength or position she was afraid of—it was her sense of being out of control, of being governed by her body rather than her brain. She should never have offered to treat his shoulder.

“May I?” he prodded.

“It’s inappropriate, Sheriff. We’re just partners in healing your shoulder.”

“I like the partners part.”

There was nothing to do but get this over with as quickly as possible. She slipped her fingers around his wrist and lifted his arm at the elbow to form a right angle. “I need to stretch your muscles while they’re warm and relaxed.”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “All right. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

She worked silently and slowly, wincing when he grunted, biting her lip when she saw perspiration bead on his forehead, battling her own tears when the corners of his eyes grew moist from pain. She rotated his forearm to the side, and returned it slowly. Then she straightened his arm and lifted it above his head, pressing and pushing his stiff muscles to stretch until neither of them could bear it a moment longer. With her breath held, she lowered his arm in tiny increments, sighing with relief when she finally laid his arm to rest beside him.

His broad chest shuddered as he exhaled, but his eyes remained closed and he didn’t move.

She spooned balm into her hand and warmed it in her palms before smoothing the thick ointment over the front of his shoulder. With gentle strokes, she rubbed it down his biceps muscle to his elbow and forearm. The tension in his body ebbed slowly away, his breathing growing less ragged as she walked her fingertips across his muscles.

“Roll over, Sheriff, and I’ll do your back.”

He didn’t say a word, didn’t open his eyes, didn’t even argue about his name. He just rolled onto his good arm and over onto his stomach, twisting the linen around his waist—and leaving his firm buttocks in full view of her greedy eyes.

Did he realize...? Had he done this on purpose?

Faith whisked a linen off the dwindling stack, snapped it open, and draped it over the enticing distraction. He wasn’t the first undressed male she’d seen, but he was by far the most affecting. Her hands were sweating!

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice muffled in the scrunched linens.

“I’m getting more balm,” she said, but her heart pounded so hard her voice quaked. Would he feel her trembling?

She slathered the ointment over his broad back and forced her thoughts to the methodical process of weeding her garden, one section at a time, one plant at a time. She kneaded his muscles and imagined her hands working the soil. The scent of herbs, oils, and resins rose from the bath and his damp skin. She pressed the heels of her palms at the base of his spine and pushed them up his back as if she were creating furrows for seeding.

He moaned low in his throat.

She hesitated. “Did that hurt you?”

“It felt even better than the bath.”

A smile tugged her lips. “I knew you’d like it.”

“This or the bath?”

“The bath.”

“I did. But your hands feel better.”

She had no idea how to respond without encouraging or offending him, so she kept silent.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

“In my garden,” she said, uncertain if his question was sincere interest or intentional probing. “Working muscles is similar to working the soil. Planting and weeding take patience and practice. After a while your hands learn what to do without needing instruction from your brain.”

“Thank goodness you’re not a blacksmith who manipulates iron with fire and hammers.”

His analogy made her laugh. “Do your brothers have your unique sense of humor?”

“Unique?”

“Teasing. A bit cryptic. Sometimes a tad odd.”

His lips quirked. “I preferred unique.”

“Then you shouldn’t have asked me to clarify.”

He chuckled. “We’re as different from each other as a willow is from a poplar or an aspen or a cottonwood. Same family, very different trees.”

She leaned on the heels of her palms and moved them up his back. “You and your brothers look remarkably alike.”

“Trees are trees. Men are men. The difference is in their grain. My oldest brother Radford is a deep thinker and peaceful man. But he’s the only man I’d ever steer clear of. When he came home from the war, you could look in his eyes and feel tortured by the pain he was carrying. He wouldn’t even pick up a gun to go hunting with us. Still won’t, and it’s been fifteen years. But he’s not so jumpy since he married Evelyn.”

Faith nodded. “She has a way of making a person feel like a friend the minute you meet her.”

“She does, but she was engaged to my brother Kyle when she fell in love with Radford.”

“Oh, dear, what a horrid situation for them and your family!”

“It was tough. Kyle was so enraged when Evelyn broke their engagement, he tore into Radford. By the time Boyd and I got to the livery, Radford was so out of his mind he nearly killed Kyle. He—” The sheriff lifted his head. “If this is boring you, I can stop.”

“No. I’m intrigued. Really,” she insisted. And she was.

“Then please don’t stop working on that muscle. It’s just beginning to un-cramp.”

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped massaging his back. Amazing, but his story had shifted her mind away from touching his bare skin. “I’ll massage as long as you talk.” She pressed her thumbs into the hard latissimus dorsi muscle and used deep, slow strokes to release the tension.

“Best offer I’ve had in years,” he said with a sigh.

She massaged for several seconds then paused. “Moaning doesn’t count as talking.”

His lip quirked up.

“Let me put a cool towel around your shoulders while you finish your story” She worked the pump and soaked one of the remaining linens then wrung the excess water into the tub. “Brace yourself,” she said then draped it over his shoulders.

He sucked in his breath. “Gads, woman! The shock just stopped my heart.”

She choked back a laugh. “Are you going to finish your story, or should I stop massaging your back and let you get dressed?”

“It’s not a pretty story.”

“I wasn’t expecting one.”

“All right. When Radford realized what he’d done to Kyle, he fell apart. He couldn’t eat or sleep. He had nightmares that woke the house. One night it scared Rebecca so badly that she ran out of the house in her nightdress and bare feet. It was winter, and she was only four.”

“Wait a minute. How can... Evelyn and Radford weren’t married yet.”

“Another woman gave birth to Rebecca shortly after Radford was mustered out of his regiment. Apparently she didn’t want a baby or a husband, so she left Rebecca with Radford and disappeared.”

“That poor little girl.”

“Rebecca found a loving mother in Evelyn. There’s always been a special bond between the two of them.”

“I noticed that in church this morning. They’re both so pretty and have such lovely hair, I thought they were mother and daughter.”

“They are.”

No two words could have touched Faith more deeply. Tears blurred her eyes, and she looked toward the ceiling and blinked to keep them from dropping onto his back.

“If it wasn’t for Evelyn and Rebecca, I don’t think Radford would have pulled himself back from the past.”

Faith swallowed her sadness. “War would scar any man.”

“And leave some men so tortured they have to fight another war to get their life back. Radford had to do that when he came home.”

“Did Kyle ever forgive him?” she asked.

“Kyle is as stubborn as they come, but yes, after stewing a while, he forgave Radford.”

“So Kyle’s a stubborn but forgiving man?”

“And the rock in our family. He kept our sawmill running and held everything together when my dad died.”

“For some reason I see you in that position.”

He peered at her from the corner of his eye. “Kyle was the boss. I was the peacekeeper. My younger brother Boyd was the one who made us laugh. Even when we wanted to pound him—and Kyle always wanted to pound him—Boyd could make us laugh. He still does.”

“Hmm... I’m beginning to understand your analogy about trees and their grain. Your mother raised a deep-thinker, a rock, a jester, and a peacekeeper. Sounds like she had her hands full.”

He laughed. “Which is exactly why my father made me promise to keep the peace and hold our family together.”

“Which makes me more irritated that your brothers didn’t help you today, or at least allow that other man to step in.”

“That other man was Wayne Archer and he was looking to earn himself some votes for the upcoming election for sheriff.”

“He’s running against you?” she asked in surprise.

“And would have liked nothing better than to prove me incompetent in front of all those people watching. My brothers showed great restraint and respect by letting me handle that situation alone.”

“I hadn’t thought... I’m sorry I judged them without knowing the politics involved.”

“Does that mean you were concerned about me?” he asked, rolling onto his back.

Panic kept her gaze locked on his face. God only knew if that towel was still covering him. “I would be concerned about anyone in a fight.”

He gripped her balm-soaked fingers. “Can I call on you this evening?”

“I... of course, Sheriff. I can give you another treatment at nine o’clock if the time suits you.”

He rocked upward and swung his legs off the table then slid off and stood beside her. “I’m not asking for a shoulder treatment, Faith. My call would be personal, to allow us time to become better acquainted.”

Oh, no... Iris would be ecstatic, but Faith was terrified. She could never tell where this man was going with his questions and those private looks that were growing more heated by the minute; but worse, she had no idea how she would respond, because one smile from him could melt her kneecaps. And was that towel still hooked around his waist?

He squeezed her hands. “I would like to court you.”

“Oh... I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Did I misunderstand Iris when she said you were looking for a husband?”

She shook her head. She longed for a noble, handsome, and tender man with strong, protective arms to welcome Adam and Cora, and keep them safe. She wanted a man like the sheriff to hold her against his warm body and love her, but she wasn’t worthy of a man like him. “I’m not sure we would suit.”

“Let’s find out.” He dipped his head and pressed his warm, firm lips to hers.

She felt as if she kissed the sun. His hot mouth melted her. The birds in her stomach scattered sideways then swept upward en masse to fly in a frenzied circle that left her breathless and dizzy

His arms encircled her, his heart pounding against her palms, a low moan vibrating in his throat as he deepened the kiss. She’d heard that same intimate sound when massaging his back, when her hands gave him pleasure. To hear it now while he was kissing her, while he held her against his hard, naked chest thrilled and frightened her. He was too big, too strong, too... umm... gentle... and tender. His tongue delved into her mouth, slow and insistent, sparking a fire deep in her belly.

He broke the kiss with a shaky outrush of breath, gazing down at her with stormy eyes. “I’d say we suit just fine.”

She gazed up at him with her fists bunched against his chest and her body quaking, lost in the heat of his gaze.

“You can give me your answer this evening.” He pressed a polite kiss to her lips then stepped away.

Dazed and too weak-kneed to move, Faith leaned against the table. There was a fine line between arrogance and self-confidence, and this strong, proud man walked dead center of that line.

He hooked his thumbs beneath the linen that was thankfully anchored around his waist, and paused with a roguish smile on his face. “I’m about to shuck this towel. Don’t suppose you’d like to stay and help me dress?”

With a gasp, Faith fled the room, at war with the rash, reckless part of her that would like nothing better.

Faith’s stomach was full for the first time in weeks. A man from the Taylor Hotel had delivered a large roast beef with bowls of potatoes, vegetables, and two apple pies, along with a note from the sheriff thanking her for generously opening her business for him.

“That meal had to cost the sheriff a fortune,” Dahlia said, stacking clean plates back in the wooden crate the hotel had shipped them in.

Faith had expected to trade her services for lumber, but after eating like paupers for the last month, this unexpected meal was a blessing. Cora and Adam had eaten with such unabashed joy it had moved her to tears. They were so full from their meal, they flopped on their pallets at the far end of the building and hadn’t moved since. Adam was engrossed in a book, but Cora was lying on her back thumping her heels against the wall, waiting for Faith to finish washing dishes and come read her a story.

Yet, Faith desperately needed to talk to Aster, the most levelheaded of her aunts, and to Iris, who could negotiate her way around any situation. She rinsed a bowl and handed it to Tansy.

“I need a few minutes alone with Iris and Aster,” she said. “Would you and Dahlia tell Cora a story, and keep Adam settled with his book until I finish here?”

Tansy put the bowl in the crate of dishes that Adam would return to the Taylor Hotel tomorrow. “Of course, dahlin’. The way my back aches, you won’t have to ask twice.” She dropped her towel on their makeshift counter then nudged Dahlia. “Let these gals finish the dishes while we concoct a story for Cora.”

“It’ll be a trial to relax for a while, but I’ll manage,” Dahlia agreed. She tossed her towel over the edge of the crate, and followed Tansy to their cluster of straw pallets at the back of the building.

Their little family had set up a makeshift kitchen in one corner of the building, using planks atop flour barrels for counters, and large tin pans for dish tubs. The only furniture they’d brought with them was Faith’s mother’s mahogany kitchen table, which had been the center of their family gatherings for as long as Faith could remember. They’d left the chairs in favor of flats of herbs that would better serve their new business; flour barrels and solid planks worked suitably well for table seating.

“What’s wrong?” Aster asked, her face pinched with worry.

Faith dried her hands on her apron. “Have you ever been married?”

Aster’s white eyebrows whisked upward. The ebony arches above Iris’s eyes lifted, too, but neither woman spoke.

“Mama said stormy weather drove each of you to her door, but she never said what kind of storm it was.”

“Does it matter?” Aster asked.

“Yes.” Faith sighed. “I need to know who you were before you met Mama.”

“Honey, I’m not even sure I can remember,” Aster said.

“What was your name? Before you became one of Mama’s flowers.”

Aster braced her hand on the counter, a towel bunched beneath her fingers. “Marian. And I was no different than any other hardworking farm girl, but I hated that life and my father’s heavy fists and my mother’s pathetic mewling. By my sixteenth birthday, I couldn’t stomach one more day of their endless drama, so I left and began my own life. Four years later I found your mother and my first real family.”

“So, you never married?”

“No. I lost that opportunity decades ago. And I haven’t been particularly fond of the men I’ve known, so the point is moot.”

“How about you, Aunt Iris? Have you ever been married?”

“My mixed blood didn’t allow me to fit into any man’s world. I was too Japanese.”

“Were you born in Japan?”

“Right here in America,” she said. “My father was a commodore in the U.S. Navy, and a son of a wealthy banker from New York City. He was already married thirty years when he sailed his ship into Tokyo and met my mother. He smuggled her onto his ship and brought her to New York and made her his mistress. She conceived me on the ship during the crossing.”

Faith pressed her hand to her chest. “How dreadful. Forgive me for asking something so personal.”

Iris waved away the apology. “He cared deeply for my mother and provided very well for her until he died. But his estate went to his wife and children. My mother was forced to find herself another provider. Unfortunately, that man preferred her daughter Akiko.”

“Oh, Iris...” Faith’s eyes misted and she wanted to kick herself. “How unkind I’ve been to ask such intimate questions of you and Aster.”

Iris shrugged. “Life is intimate even when you don’t want it to be. Sometimes you enjoy that. Sometimes you simply bear it. Either way you’ve got to live each day the best you can.”

“Your life hasn’t been much easier,” Aster added.

Faith nodded because it was true, and because she was too choked up to speak. Her aunts hadn’t just lost their homes, they’d lost their names and the very cores of who they were.

“Don’t fret over this,” Iris said. “When I found your mother’s house and met Aster and Tansy and Dahlia, I gladly became Iris—a beautiful flower that grows in the wild.”

Faith blinked the moisture from her eyes. “All this time I thought you’d chosen it from the Iliad. Iris, the goddess of the rainbow.”

Iris hooted in amusement. “I like that.” She cocked her chin and feigned a thoughtful pose. “Goddess of the rainbow. Yes, that’s lovely. Tonight I’ll be a sultry hue of violet. Tomorrow I’ll be—”

“A wilted flower just like the rest of us,” Aster said in her too-frank manner.

“You’re not wilted flowers,” Faith insisted. “You can take back your real names and start over here.”

Aster shook her head. “I’ve been Aster for so long I couldn’t answer to anything else.”

“Same for me,” Iris said. “Besides, I think I enjoy being a rainbow goddess.”

Despite their sad stories, Faith smiled. “You’re still so young, Aunt Iris, does it bother you that you never married?”

“I’m too fond of men to ever settle for just one.”

A tad of panic shot through Faith. “But you will now. Right?” Iris’s silence increased Faith’s heartbeat. “You all agreed to look for a husband here.”

“And we’ll look as promised,” Aster said.

“That doesn’t mean we’ll find a man willing to marry us,” Iris added.

“You can’t pin your hopes on me.”

“We have to, Faith. You know that,” Aster said. “What man is going to want to marry an ex-prostitute?”

“Or a woman who looks Japanese?”

“You’re kind, beautiful women, and you deserve love.”

“So do you, dear. Much more than us. You’re young, and have everything to look forward to.”

“With that handsome sheriff,” Iris said with a wink.

“You should have never told him I was looking for a husband. Now he wants to court me.”

“He does?” Aster asked, incredulous.

“Wonderful!” Iris clapped her hands. “Say yes.”

“I can’t say yes.”

“Of course you can. You must!” Aster said. “The man just sent us a meal fit for a king.”

Faith tugged her apron ties loose. “What if he learns the truth about us? What then?”

“All the more reason to marry him quickly, so it’s too late for him to change his mind.”

But it wouldn’t be too late for him to hate her, and that’s what she couldn’t bear. Sheriff Grayson was the kind of man she could fall in love with. To gain his affection and possibly his love, only to lose it when he learned the truth, would be devastating. “I can’t do it. It’s underhanded and... the sheriff is too respectable for me.”

“No one is perfect, Faith, not even the sheriff.” Iris sighed dramatically. “But he sure looks perfect, and just think of the benefits of having that dream man in your bed, kissing in the dark, feeling those strong arms—”

“For pity’s sake!” Grasping at her last thread of patience, Faith yanked off her apron. “This isn’t just about sharing a bed with a man. I’ll have to live with him, and have his children, and…how will I ever look him in the eyes if I don’t tell him the truth?  He deserves better than my lies.”

“Men will want you, but mark my words,” Iris warned, “they won’t offer marriage if they know where you came from.”

“You need to think of the children,” Aster added. “The sheriff adores Cora. You can see he’d be a good father to her. And he was more than fair to Adam over that incident with the hair brush.”

“I know. That’s because he’s a kind, honorable man.” Faith blew out a breath. “But will he be so kind if he learns the truth?”

“No one can know for certain,” Aster said. “That’s why you need to guard the truth. It’s your past, not his. It should be your choice whether or not to share it with him.”

“If our courting leads to marriage, and he discovers the truth too late, he will never forgive my deceit.”

“Bah.” Aster crossed her arms over her chest as if the answer was obvious and the conversation unnecessary. “You’re worrying about something that may never happen. And if he does learn the truth, the sheriff is an intelligent and fair man. He’s also a man who can provide for you and the children.”

Iris put her arm around Faith’s shoulders. “Honey, I think half your nerves come from being attracted to him,” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle.

Faith’s face heated. Had she been that transparent? What woman wouldn’t be attracted to a man like Sheriff Grayson? Duke Grayson.

“If I were in your shoes I would savor every minute of that man’s attention,” Iris continued. “And I’d do my best to get him to marry me. The alternative to marrying the sheriff could be far less desirable, you know.”

“I know.” She only had to think of the men who had frequented the brothel or called at her greenhouse.

“Courting him doesn’t mean you have to marry him,” Iris continued. “But it could make him more accepting of our business, and help establish us in the community.”

Faith tossed her apron into the crate on the floor. “It could help immensely to be in the sheriff’s favor. But our hopes could also come crashing down on our heads if he has a change of heart.”

“Then don’t let him have a change of heart.”

Faith looked to Aster, the honorary mother of their misfit family. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s the one man who can protect us,” she said quietly. “If we need him to.”