Grayson Brothers Series Boxed Set (4 books in 1) (26 page)

The rain had stopped during the night, but the day dawned as gray and dismal as Kyle’s mood. Regrets consumed him while he sweated through a long, grueling afternoon at the mill. He’d wanted to clear his conscience last night and tell Amelia the truth surrounding her father’s collapse, to express his regret and apologize, but it would have increased her distress. So Kyle had given Amelia over to Jeb’s keeping, offered his condolences to her mother, and escaped into the blowing rain before Amelia could take his hand again.

Seeing her look at him as if he were a hero for whisking her through the storm to her father’s side had twisted Kyle’s gut. He wasn’t a hero. He was an idiot!

With an oath, he slammed his hand maul against the grapple hooks that bound a drag of maple logs. If Tom hadn’t changed so much, it would have never crossed Kyle’s mind to doubt him. But Tom had stopped swapping business news with Kyle and the other mill owners then he’d started cutting his prices and hoarding jobs. What else was Kyle to think? Even though Tom was an admirable man, his erratic behavior had shaken Kyle’s faith and planted doubts in his mind. He had been justified in confronting Tom.

“Come on, dammit!” Kyle whacked at the metal links then gave them a yank. Breathing in the scent of wood and earth, he struggled to pry the metal clasps loose, but couldn’t dislodge their grip in the bark.

Whether or not he’d been justified in confronting Tom, Kyle regretted it more than any mistake he’d ever made—and he’d made some blunders in his life.

More irritated with himself than the stubborn hooks, Kyle raised his arm and channeled his anger through the hammer. Iron struck iron and sparks flew. The hammer ricocheted off the hooks and drove straight into his shin.

Kyle heaved the hand maul across the yard.

“Red rip roarin’ bastard!” He clamped his hands over his throbbing shin and plopped down on the rough bark of the maple tree that he’d been unchaining. “Good for nothing piece of rubbish! Stubborn hunk o’junk hell-minded hammer.”

He rocked upon the tree trunk in excruciating pain while he tried to think of other appropriate expletives to curse the wretched thing. His head reeled and his stomach heaved. Feeling his shin swelling beneath his hand made him grit his teeth. He didn’t need this on top of everything else! He rocked in pain for several minutes, and then with a final oath he launched himself off the maple log and limped across the field toward home.

Until today his house had seemed conveniently close, but the ache in his leg and the humid air made the few hundred yards seem like miles. Knowing he had to attend Tom Drake’s funeral and face Amelia within the hour merely added to his misery.

As soon as he’d washed, shaved, and clothed himself in a suit, Kyle retraced his limping steps across the field to the barn. It was set well away from the mill in consideration of the horses, but close enough to house his bay-colored gelding and the heavy-muscled Percherons that moved the timber.

“What happened to you?” Duke asked from the open doorway.

As Kyle spun to face his younger brother, pain ripped through his shin and his leg gave out. He crashed into a stall and grabbed the half-wall to stop his downward plunge. “Dammit, Duke! One of these days I’m going to bust your head for sneaking up on me.”

“That’s how I catch the bad guys.” Duke folded his arms across his thick chest, his biceps straining the sleeves of his full dress shirt that was devoid of his sheriff’s badge. “I saw you limping in here and thought I’d better see how seriously you were wounded.”

Kyle’s lips twisted with disgust. “I hit my shin with that rotten hammer again. It feels like it shattered my leg.”

“Do you think it’s serious?”

Kyle grimaced as he flexed his foot. “Feels like it, but probably not.”

“I’ve got the carriage. How about a lift to the funeral?”

“I doubt I could make it otherwise.” Kyle hooked a hand over his brother’s shoulder and limped from the barn. He glanced up at the dreary sky and sighed. “This is one rotten day.”

“Any day you bury a friend is a bad day,” Duke said, his voice somber. “I still can’t believe Tom’s dead.”

Neither could Kyle.

Duke tried to assist him into the carriage, but Kyle smacked his hands away. “I can manage without your coddling.”

“All right, hardhead.” Duke climbed in and waited. “I pity the woman who ends up with you and your lovely disposition.”

“At least she won’t be coddled to death.” Kyle heaved himself aboard. “How do you manage to stay alive? You’re too softhearted to be a sheriff.”

Duke slapped the reins and set the carriage in motion. “Just because I wear a badge doesn’t mean I can’t talk nice to a woman and give her a little affection now and then.”

“Am I supposed to be gleaning some mystical wisdom from those words?” Kyle suspected Duke was alluding to his past blindness with Evelyn and he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Sweet-talking a woman and coddling her is common sense.”

“It’s nonsense and a waste of time.”

“Well, you can’t treat them like one of our crew,” Duke said. “You can’t just snap out orders and expect them to jump for you.”

Duke shook his head. “Women want affection, Kyle. They want to talk.”

“Well, I don’t, so save your philosophizing for someone who needs it.”

Duke shook his head and chuckled, but he kept silent while Kyle spent the balance of the trip thinking about sweet-talking a woman like Amelia Drake.

* * *

A wave of grief washed over Amelia and she placed her palm on her father’s chest. He’d given her all she desired, encouraged her education, and taught her to speak her mind with conviction. Every day he had been a shining example of integrity and honor. Instead of condemning her for making mistakes, he’d stood by her through one of the most humiliating times of her life. Now he was gone.

The only man who’d ever loved her was lying in a casket, dressed in a Sunday suit, his hair slicked back with pomade oil. This was not the man she had called father for nearly twenty-one years. She wanted to remember him standing beside a pile of hewn maple trees directing the transfer of logs to the sawing tables, his graying hair ruffled by the breeze and his shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms.

She adjusted the lapel on his coat then pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll miss you so.”

“So will I,” her mother said, startling Amelia as she came up to the casket and ran her hand over her husband’s chest. Her gaze swept the ornate house, her green eyes dull, her lovely oval face strained with grief. “It’s unbearable here without him.”

Worse than unbearable. Amelia’s heart ached so deeply it pained her to breathe. She clasped her mother’s cold hands. “Papa would tell us to be strong and to look for the blessings in each day. We have to try to do that for him.”

“Your father would also tell you to find yourself a man who deserves you.”

Amelia would have married years ago, but Richard hadn’t wanted her. “I don’t need a husband, Mama. I have you.”

Disappointment filled her mother’s eyes. “Don’t you ever want to marry?”

Yes
, Amelia’s soul whispered, but she shook her head, knowing she never would. “I’m proud of being a teacher.”

“I know, honey, but you’re missing something very special. Marriage to the right man is heaven.” Her gaze shifted to the coffin. “Living without your father is going to be... so empty and unbearable.”

Amelia’s eyes welled up at the pain in her mother’s bereft expression, but she had no words that would offer comfort for the depth of grief she and her mother shared.

“The mill would make a nice dowry,” her mother said, straightening her shoulders as if gathering her strength. “There are plenty of men who would covet a good business and a beautiful bride. Find a husband while you’re young and beautiful.”

“How, Mama? I’m barely able to walk to town without an escort from the school board,” Amelia said, pushing the words from her aching throat. “I’m sorry if it disappoints you, but I’m going to remain a teacher for the rest of my life.”

“Then I’m going to have to sell the mill.”

“What?” Amelia’s heart jolted. “Why? Jeb and Ray can run it for us.”

Her mother shook her head. “We have no ties to your father’s crew. They could leave us tomorrow. If I can’t make the mortgage payments, we’ll lose the mill and the house. I can’t risk our only security.”

“But I remember everything I learned during the summers I spent with Papa. I can help Jeb.”

“You would lose your teaching position the instant the board got wind of you being at the mill.”

“Well, we can’t just sell something Papa spent his whole life building!” For Amelia, losing the mill would be like losing her father a second time. She couldn’t bear it.

“Then use it as a dowry,” her mother said. “Find a man you can depend on, one who’s smart enough to make the business thrive without sacrificing his life or your marriage to do so.”

Amelia would gladly marry to save her father’s mill, but there weren’t any men in her life. Not one.

“Your father loved that place, honey, but look what it did to him.” Tears filled her mother’s eyes and her forehead creased. “He spent his whole life trying to keep that mill alive and now you and I are alone and we have to sell it off anyhow.”

Amelia’s heart broke and she put her arms around her mother. She would give anything to ease her mother’s grief, but there was nothing she could do. If it were possible, she would run the mill herself. She had spent each summer there until she was sixteen years old, trailing her father’s footsteps. She’d been daddy’s girl and her father had humored her desire to be at his side. She’d begged his crew to teach her the business, but her father had refused, claiming it unsuitable work for a young lady. It hadn’t stopped Amelia from observing and watching, and by her sixteenth summer she’d weaseled her way into helping him with his office work.

Her seventeenth summer she’d spent with Richard Cameron.

Her parents had been delighted to see her interest finally turn toward courting, but the romance that had given them such high hopes had ended after a few short weeks. Only her father had known why Richard had stopped calling.

Her mother cupped Amelia’s cheek in her palm, her eyes filled with apology. “I’m sorry, but unless you marry a man who can provide for us, we have no other options.”

Amelia bit her lip and nodded. Her mother was right. Unless Amelia could find a husband, she and her mother would have to depend on themselves. Knowing her options for marriage were nonexistent terrified her.

As soon as her mother left the room, Amelia spun toward the coffin, toward the security of her father. She took his unresponsive fingers in her hand and held on for life. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been able to count on, Papa. How will we live without you?” She clutched his fingers to her chest, her heart cramped with pain. “I can’t bear to lose you, or the mill, Papa, but I don’t know what to do.”

* * *

The moment Kyle laid eyes on Amelia, guilt consumed him. She stood in her parents’ ornate parlor beside her father’s casket, a fragile ivory princess with eyes so large and sad that Kyle forgot he was standing in the crush of mourning friends and family members who had gathered for the evening funeral.

He didn’t move or beckon Amelia in any way, but the instant she saw him, she left her mother’s side and crossed to where he stood. Kyle’s mind was so cluttered with apologies and self-recriminations, he couldn’t utter a word of greeting.

She scanned his face then lowered her lashes and touched her fingertip to the red scabs crossing the back of his hand. “I’m sorry for this,” she said, her voice soft and hoarse as her trembling fingers glided over his knuckles. She tipped her face toward his. “I want to thank you for everything you did last night.”

Looking into her sad brown eyes and feeling the coolness of her hand covering his own made him want to bolt for the door. Silky skin and private conversation made for a lethal combination that Kyle wanted no part of, especially when Amelia’s expression was so open and vulnerable. He was a fool for a woman in distress. He’d been the same way with Richard’s stepmother, Catherine, who was watching them from across the room where she stood with her youngest sister, Lucinda.

Amelia laced her fingers in front of her slender, black-clad hips, the gesture capturing Kyle’s full attention. She had long legs, he thought as his eyes scanned down the length of her skirt then back up over the slight curve of her hips. Dull black fabric encased her small waist and rounded nicely over her breasts.

“Mama and I would like you to be a pallbearer for Papa.”

Kyle’s stomach lurched and his knees turned liquid. He gripped the thick banister behind him to keep from sinking to the parquet floor. He couldn’t remember a time he felt more sick at heart. Unable to form a sensible reply, he simply stared at her.

“Papa thought the world of you.”

He had told Tom he was sorry, that he shouldn’t have doubted him, but for all Kyle knew, Tom Drake had died hating him.

Kyle groped for words, the pain of losing his own father piercing him anew as he glanced at Tom’s inert form shrouded in a coffin across the room. “I’m sorry.” He wanted to say more, to tell her that her father had taught him as much about the lumber business as his own father had, that he was sorry he’d confronted Tom with his suspicions and upset him, but the constriction in Kyle’s chest left his voice too rough for talking.

“If you’re trying to say you’d rather not do this, I understand.” Amelia averted her face, but Kyle heard the sorrow in her voice and it sliced through his defenses.

“I assumed you’d have enough offers from his friends and crew.”

“I would rather have you do it.” Tears glittered in her eyes as she looked up at him. “It would mean so much.”

His resistance melted. “Are you sure”

“I’m certain.” She took his hand and clasped it between her own. “Thank you for giving me someone to depend on,” she whispered. “You have no idea what that means to me right now.”

Pounding heat rushed through his head and neck until his collar felt like a noose that was slowly strangling him. His gaze ricocheted through the parlor in search of an exit, or an excuse that would extricate him from Amelia’s presence. But all he saw was surprise in Catherine’s eyes. Eva and Philmore Bentley stood a few feet away wearing appalled expressions. He’d obviously offended their sense of decency last night when he tossed Amelia on his horse and galloped out of the schoolyard, but they appeared outraged now by Amelia’s overt display of gratitude.