Strong and Stubborn (31 page)

They laughed together as they rejoined the group and enjoyed their marshmallow-influenced popularity. In a few moments, the treats were passed out, and the men were briefly silent as each tried to toast their treat the perfect golden brown. The odd failure, blackened like a lump of coal, induced much teasing. One fellow seemed to get it just right, only to have the gooey morsel slide down the branch and plop, hissing, atop the licking flames.

As promised, Evie took advantage of the quiet. “I always think that a good fire with good friends needs only a good story to make it perfect. Cora, why don't you see if you can tell us a tale?”

A chorus of agreement went up around the circle, including Mr. Corning. Now that she was the focus of so much avid attention, Cora found herself grateful that Naomi hadn't allowed her to announce her newfound availability. She couldn't imagine how Naomi dealt with this type of attention so often—it was absolutely unnerving. Cora looked around the circle, her gaze snagging on Braden. He nodded, and suddenly she knew exactly which story she wanted to tell. It was a legend he needed to hear—and a lesson she needed him to heed.

“All right,” she announced to the waiting group. “In honor of the fine men seeking to woo my good friend, Miss Higgins, I will tell the “Legend of the Loathly Lady.” Listen well, because the moral of the tale reveals the answer to an almost unanswerable question.”

“She's anything but loathly,” Mr. Strode objected, giving Cora a look that told her Naomi might have one more suitor than she knew.

“Listen to the story before you judge it.” Naomi, who'd taught it to Cora in the first place, smiled in anticipation. “Go on now.”

I
t's one of my favorites,” Naomi whispered as the story began.

So Michael listened and found himself caught up in the story woven around the campfire. He noticed that the other men, some of whom politely feigned interest at first, perked up when they realized this “lady” story revolved around Arthurian legend.

Swiftly, Miss Thompson set the scene. King Arthur, separated from his loyal knights during a hunt, is drawn deep into the forest. The king slays his deer but finds himself at the mercy of an enraged dark knight. Unarmed and alone, Arthur faces certain death by the hand of this opponent, but the dark knight offers him a deal: Return in a year, unarmed and alone, and if Arthur can answer the knight's question he may go unharmed. If he does not give the right answer, he will lose his head and Camelot will be undone. Arthur, of course, agrees to find the answer to the question.

“And what do you suppose was the knight's question?” she asked the crowd. “Something so difficult that the king's failure was certain?” After a moment, the men began to bandy suggestions around the fire.

“Why bad things happen to good people?” Clump guessed, only to be outvoted on the grounds that a
dark
knight wanted to leave the ways of evil a mystery so people could stay weak and afraid.

“Oh, I know!” Bobsley slapped his knee. “If a tree falls in—” He didn't even finish the old saw before groans drowned him out.

Naomi quirked a brow, daring Mike to make his own guess.

But Mike couldn't. Not when the only unanswerable questions bumping around in his brain concerned the woman sitting beside him. He gave a prayer of thanks when Miss Thompson took up the story again.

“The knight's challenge to King Arthur was to discover …” She paused, making everyone lean forward. “What do women want the most?”

Groans and guffaws went up, the men shaking their heads.

“An impossible question indeed.” Mike kept a straight face.

“I bet you could find the answer, the way you puzzle things through.” Naomi gave him a small smile. “Think about it awhile.”

“It's not so obvious for us men,” he told her, biting back the first answer:
love
. A part of him still believed everyone wanted to be loved, but hadn't Leticia proven him wrong? What about Naomi, whose plans for the future centered around a business arrangement? No, Mike knew better than to say love was most important to her.

“Security!” Gent announced from across the way. “Women want to be looked after and to know that they and their children are safe.”

“Nah, she's right. There is no good answer. Women can't pick one thing when they want so many,” grumbled someone in the shadows.

“Don't be sore because you aren't one of them, Williams!” For a moment, it looked as though a scuffle might break out, but Miss Thompson picked up the story and averted the blossoming problem.

“Disheartened but bound by his word, Arthur returned to Camelot. There, his nephew, Sir Gawain, notices the king's melancholy and pries the reason from him. For the next year, both Arthur and Sir Gawain ask thousands of women for the solution to the riddle. But every woman gave a different answer from the last.” At this statement, the men starting laughing, and Mike joined them.

Mike shared his answer with Naomi. “Maybe the answer is that every woman wants something different because no two women are the same. Maybe they want their uniqueness appreciated.”

She tilted her head and gave him a searching look. “Clever, but I think it depends on how the man shows her his appreciation.”

“Something special, just for her.” Mike decided to ask his own impossible question. “How would
you
want to be appreciated?”

“Say!” a man shouted. Braden recognized the high climber but couldn't remember the name of the man talking through Cora's story. “There's a better question. What does Miss Higgins want? That's what we need to know!”

If it wasn't for the fact Braden had just been wondering the same thing about Cora, he wouldn't have any patience for the interruption. As things stood, he wondered if this question might open an opportunity to wrangle an answer to his own version. As it stood, he wasn't doing a good job figuring out what Cora wanted, much less how to convince her to let him be the man offering it!

Naomi froze, eyes wide as a startled deer, and Braden felt a little sorry for his cousin. She hated being the center of attention and usually exhibited a distinct talent for fading into the woodwork. If Braden hadn't seen it for himself, he wouldn't believe any woman could render herself almost invisible while staying in plain sight. But Naomi could go quiet, tuck herself in a corner, and watch as most of the people in the room forgot she was still there.

But that wasn't possible anymore. She—along with the rest of the women—thrust herself into the limelight when they posted that ad.
Wait
. The ad! Why were the men asking what Naomi wanted when she'd been kind enough to spell it out for them in the clearest possible terms? Even better, Cora swore she'd helped write the thing. So didn't that mean she wanted the same things on the list?

What had they required, aside from logging or sawmill experience to help get the business off the ground? He racked his brain, trying to remember the exact words.
God-fearing
was the first one.
Hardworking
was another. They'd wisely added
single
because, even though that should be obvious, some unscrupulous fellows might try to trick them. With that in mind, Braden made a split-second decision to surreptitiously have the men looked into. Just to make sure none of them had a surprise bride tucked away in another state. But hadn't the ladies listed something else? One last criteria?

“Right now,”—Naomi all but shouted to catch everyone's attention—“I most want for everyone to let Cora finish the story.” The announcement left the men no choice but to quiet back down.

Then Cora was talking, and Braden forgot everything except how her hair glowed in the light of the fire and her eyes shone with mirth while she spoke and her words flowed around him with reassurance and familiarity, weaving a spell through the story. Of course, magic didn't exist anywhere other than legend. No. Such wishful thinking was just a way to spring life lessons on unwary listeners.

“Despairing, with only a day remaining,”—she looked directly at him, and Braden knew King Arthur wasn't the only one whose time ran short—“the king returned to the depths of the forest, hoping to reason with the dark knight. Instead he came upon a hideous hag tucked atop a snow-white mare. Oddly formed of sparse hair, shriveled skin, and yellowed nails, the Loathly Lady looked down upon the good king and bared her blackened teeth in a sad smile.

“She told Arthur she was the sister of the dark knight, and she would tell him what women wanted if he granted her one small request: that she be allowed to wed Sir Gawain. Horrified by the idea of handing over one of his bravest, most handsome knights to this foul creature, Arthur refused her request and left the forest.”

“Ah, big mistake,” someone hooted. “Rather die than let a friend get shackled to a hag? People marry for worse reasons.” Eventually he realized the silence around him turned ominous and probably recalled that most of the men around him were trying to marry a woman who'd advertised for a business partner as a husband. He tried again. “Erm. That is to say, I didn't mean, you know …”

“Quit yer jawin' and let her finish the story,” someone yelled, making the fool gratefully shut his mouth and stop his retractions.

“And again, Sir Gawain recognized his uncle's sadness and wrangled the truth from Arthur. When he heard of the Loathly Lady's request, Gawain agreed immediately. They wed the very next day, the court full of whispers and regret for the fate of this good knight.”

“Well?” Bear Riordan prompted when Cora's pause lasted long enough to show that she wanted someone to ask. “Did she keep her promise? Did she tell Arthur what women want most and save him?”

“Yes. After the ceremony, she revealed to Arthur and Gawain that the thing women most want is sovereignty.” Cora stared pointedly at Braden. “The ability to make their own decisions.”

Dimly, Braden knew that the men were full of comments. Some agreeing, some contesting an answer obviously supported by the women around them. It might be a story, but Braden reeled at the truth.
Independence? The thing women most want is the same thing I do?

Even more surprising was the fact that it surprised him. It made perfect sense! Hadn't his sister, his fiancée, his fiancée's sister, and even his mild-mannered cousin been arguing with him for months about their ability to make their own decisions? And he'd ignored them, making demands and handing down orders as though he had the right to personally control every one of their lives.

But it was for their own good! They put themselves in danger with terrible decisions!
He protested against the guilt rising in him, but it did no good because, as Cora doubtless intended to show him,
those decisions were
theirs
to make after
my
choices blew up
.

There was an unfamiliar sensation prickling in his stomach and clogging his chest, and Braden suspected it had something to do with the sudden realization that he was a first-class idiot.
I never was before. How did everything change so much? How did I change so much?

The cave-in. It only took one catastrophe in his well-ordered life to destroy his equilibrium—and not just because it knocked him off his feet either. One crisis took away his choices, and instead of accepting it and moving on, he tried to steal everybody else's.

No wonder Cora avoids me
. He swallowed, mouth dry and tasting like the ashes of the fire.
How can I win back my lovely lady now?

“The story isn't over, gentlemen.” Naomi tried to hush them.

“What about Gawain?” By the looks of it, Strode hit on the right answer again, naming the one element of the legend that didn't resolve happily. He received approving nods from the women, but, more importantly, his reminder that a knight remained in peril made the men quiet down in respect for the fate of the brave Sir Gawain.

“Very good, Mr. Strode.” Cora made a point of acknowledging the carpenter, but Braden didn't feel any stab of envy—it was far too obvious that Strode had his eye on Naomi. “That night when Sir Gawain went to his bride, he could not find the Loathly Lady.”

“Lucky man.” The mutterer got a quick elbow in the ribs.

“Instead a beautiful maiden waited in her place. As it happened, her brother cursed her with hideous looks when she refused to marry as he demanded. The spell could only be broken if she married a handsome knight. Their marriage lifted part of the curse.”

“Did you say ‘part' of the curse?” Dunstan looked up from scratching behind Decoy's ears until the massive dog nosed his arm.

“Yes, only part.” Cora's eyes gleamed, and Braden knew the last part of the story would be the most interesting. “The lady regained her beauty for half of the day but would remain loathly for an equal share. She explained that Sir Gawain could have a beautiful wife at night, in private, or he could have a beautiful wife by day, in public. But his decision could not be undone or changed later.”