His Brother's Wife (9 page)

Rolling over, Rafe let the
images fade away and willed his heart to not give in. To not get
involved again. Not with Grace, not with anyone, regardless of how
much he longed for the sweet touch a woman. If he'd learned
anything over the last ten years it was that the heart could lie
better then any woman could and when it came to love, he was better
off without it.

He'd been burned twice
now, lied to and made a fool of, and he wasn't about to let Grace
do the same thing. As much as he wanted her, he'd keep her at a
distance. It was the only way he knew of to keep his sanity. His
heart wouldn't survive another blow and he'd be dammed if he let
another woman have what was left of it

Chapter Nine

Grace wiped a bead of
sweat from her brow and sighed as she looked out the window. She
didn’t realize she had an audience until she turned from the sink
and found Rafe leaning against the doorframe of the small room off
the kitchen. She met his gaze, blushed, then ignored
him.

She was still flustered
after him walking in on her bath and every time her pulse leaped
thinking of it, she got angry. It was irrational, really, that
anger. She had no reason to be upset with him but her embarrassment
over the situation, and the naughty thoughts the incident aroused,
caused her body to flush hot and she had to channel that
mortification somewhere. It might as well go back to the source of
it all. To Rafe and his secret smiles. To his heavy-lidded eyes as
they took her in as if she'd been displayed for his
enjoyment.

The leering glances he'd
given her had caused thoughts no proper lady should have to plague
her with dreams so erotic she'd been achy in places she didn't even
know could ache. She'd spent the night tossing and turning and woke
restless and ill-tempered because of it. When she remembered his
rude behavior toward her for the last week, the anger
intensified.

It wasn’t as if the man
ever went out of his way to make her feel at home. Most of the
time, he said nothing to her at all. But when he did, it wasn’t as
much what he said, as the way he’d said it. His words were gruff
and hateful. As if her very presence was a nuisance. Well, that is
until she stood naked before him dripping water all over the
kitchen floor. That hadn't bothered him at all.

Filling the coffee pot
with grounds, she set it on the stove and checked the oven. The
biscuits were almost done. She had half a mind to burn them. Rafe
devoured them when she set them on the table in front of him. If it
weren’t for Jesse, she would have done just that.

When she stood and turned
to the table, he was there. Standing by his chair staring at her.
She hadn't heard him cross the room and was in no mood to talk to
him.

“What are you doing
here?”

As if he didn’t know.
“Making breakfast. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I meant what are you
doing here, in my house, cooking breakfast for me?”

She picked up the plates,
setting them in front of each of their chairs. “I’m not cooking
breakfast for you, Rafe. I’m cooking it for Jesse. You just happen
to live here with him.”

He was quiet for long
minutes and Grace pretended he wasn’t there. She felt her face heat
every time she looked at him. Remembering him standing there
staring at her last night was mortifying regardless of how her body
ignited at the mere thought of him seeing her naked. His knowing
smile only made it worse.

She continued to cook,
glanced out the window to see if the sun had started to come up
yet, and turned back to the stove when the water in the coffee pot
started to boil over. She lifted it off and set it on the
table.

Rafe was still there.
Still staring at her.

Pursing her lips, she stared up at him. “What is it you
would like to know,
Mr.
Samuels
? I don’t have time
for this but since you insist on staring a hole through my head,
lets have this out.”

He had the nerve to smile
at her. The ass.

“Why are you in Willow
Creek, Grace?”

“I thought the answer to
that was obvious. I came to be married.”

“Yeah and yet you’re still
here.”

She huffed out a breath
and turned back to the stove, looking in on her biscuits. “Yes, I
am. My bridegroom is here.”

He laughed, the sound
skating along her flesh until goose bumps pimpled her skin. “Your
groom is a fourteen year old boy, in case you've forgotten. You
can’t expect me to believe you’re going to marry him. I’m a lot of
things, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

“And what would you have
me do?” she asked, turning to look at him. “I traveled a very long
way, alone, I might add, with the purpose of marrying. I have no
money for a return trip so unless you’re willing to pay for the
multiple trains and stagecoaches my departure would require in
order for me to return to Boston, then I’m stuck.”

He stared at her, his head
tilted to one side. She watched him for long moments before turning
back to the stove. “I can assure you I’m not nearly as desperate as
I seem.” She placed the food dishes on the table, avoiding eye
contact. “If my presence here is a burden, I’m sure I could find a
suitable husband here in Willow Creek. My only reluctance in doing
so is Jesse. I don’t want to hurt him. Regardless of how it seems
to you, I do realize he’s too young.”

“There isn’t a man within
a hundred miles of Willow Creek suitable for you.”

Grace wasn’t sure what he
meant by that. The look on his face told her nothing. “According to
you, you mean?”

He shrugged and grinned at
her. “I know everyone in town. They’re all farmers, ranchers or
drunks. There isn’t a man here who could deal with a woman like
you.”

A woman like her? “
What is that supposed to mean?”

Pulling his chair out, he
turned it, straddling the seat and crossed his arms over the back.
“Well, for starters, no one in this town can keep you in those
fancy dresses you’re so fond of wearing. Well, no one but the
Avery's but they're all married now.”

Grace looked down at her
dress. It was the least embellished of all she owned. The brown
sateen material was wrinkled from being stuffed inside her trunk
for so long but there weren’t any ruffles on it. It was quite plain
compared to her other dresses. Of course, she realized it wasn’t
what one would wear for heavy work around the house but she had
little choice in the matter. All of her dresses were nice. Her
father made sure she wore the latest fashions and she’d indulged
every time he sent the seamstress to their house.

Forcing herself to look up
at him, she resisted the temptation to smooth the material of her
dress. “I don’t require dresses like this. I have plenty
now.”

He leaned forward and
propped his elbows on the table. “Then I guess no one has to worry
about being rich to have you.” He studied her, his gaze roaming her
face before lowering to her breasts. “That’s good because all a man
requires of a wife is someone to keep his home clean, cook his
meals, and warm his bed at night. She doesn’t have to be lavishly
dressed to do that. Most would prefer you as I saw you last
night.”

His blatant stare, and the
grin on his face, caused Grace’s face to heat again. She was
blushing, damn his eyes! When he lifted his gaze back to her face,
the knowing look he gave her heated her skin again and caused her
stomach to clench. “You willing to let just any ole' saddle bum in
town into your bed, Grace? To make love to you and sire his
children with you?”

She swallowed the lump in
her throat and turned away. She took her biscuits out of the oven
without even checking to see if they were done. His question
rattled in her head long after he’d gone outside.

The entire conversation
repeated in slow motion again and again and she wasn‘t sure what
his intent was. Did he want her to leave? Did her being here upset
him in some way? She discarded that idea the moment she thought it.
She’d caught him staring at her too many times to believe that. The
way he looked at her last night caused things low in her stomach to
clench, caused her breasts to ache when his gaze lingered
there.

Did the thought of her
marrying Jesse anger him? Or was it that she would marry another
man at all? She cast the thought away. Why would he care? He’d been
downright churlish with her on most occasions. She couldn’t
remember a kind word he’d said to her since laying eyes on him back
at the stagecoach station. He wasn’t friendly. He hadn’t even
thanked her for all the things she'd done for him. For anything
really. From almost every angle she looked, it would appear Rafe
Samuels had a passing interest toward her and that was only when
she'd been stripped bare and standing before him like some Greek
goddess offering herself to him.

So why did her stomach
clench in anticipation every time she laid eyes on him?

Sighing, she set the rest
of the food on the table and tried to put him out of her mind.
She’d never understand him anyway and honestly, she didn’t want to.
He was a miserable person and living in the same house with him
would be pure torture but she had no other choice.

She should have married
someone in Boston like her friends begged her to do but her sense
of adventure was her undoing. Just as her father always said it
would be.

Hearing the wind whistle
against the house, she peered out the window toward the barn,
trying to remember if Rafe had put his coat on. A glance at the peg
by the door showed it gone. At least he wouldn’t freeze.

Not that she cared, she
reminded herself.

Jesse entered the room
moments later, making his way to the table. He was dragging his
feet and wiping his eyes with one hand. He looked so young then.
His hair was rumpled, his shirt buttoned wrong, and she realized
she liked mothering him more than the thought of being a wife to
him.

When he took his seat and
looked up at her, she smiled and grabbed his plate. “Good morning,
Jesse. I have flapjacks, bacon and home made biscuits for you this
morning.”

He threw her a lopsided
smile and looked at his plate when she set it down in front of him.
“Thanks.” He didn’t wait for Rafe and had consumed four of the
flapjacks before the back door opened and Rafe walked
inside.

Grace grabbed his plate,
filled it and set it on the table harder than she should have. She
ignored him when he glanced her way, looking up at Jesse instead.
“I need some things from town, Jesse. You’re running low on flour
and sugar and a few other items.”

Jesse looked up, his mouth
full. He glanced at Rafe before turning his attention back to her.
He swallowed the food in his mouth and said, “I can take ya. We
have an account at the mercantile.”

She smiled and nodded.
“Once I have the breakfast dishes washed up I’ll get ready. That
will give you time to get started on your chores.”

Rafe reached for another
biscuit and buttered it before looking at Jesse. “We have to ride
the fence line today so don’t dally in town longer than you have
to.”

Jesse threw him a peeved
look. “You don’t need me to ride a fence line with you. It only
takes one set of eyes to see if there’s a breech in it.”

“Then I guess you’ll have
to muck out the stalls in the barn while I’m riding over the
range.”

“I can’t go to town
smelling like horseshit. You have time to do it before you go check
the fence.”

The look of Rafe’s face
scared her. Grace didn’t really blame him for being upset, not with
Jesse having an excuse for everything, so she felt compelled to
intervene. “We can go to town tomorrow, if that would be better for
you.”

“No…”

“Yes…”

Rafe and Jesse both
answered at the same time. Jesse glared at Rafe before looking back
at her. “I’ll take you to town today. Rafe don’t need no help. He
just likes ordering me around is all.”

Grace could tell Rafe
wanted to say something but he didn’t. No one said anything after
that and she was glad for it. She still couldn’t bring herself to
look at Rafe but when he left, she glanced out the window at him
and wondered what she’d done to cause his dislike of
her.