His Brother's Wife (10 page)

She couldn’t recall a
thing she may have said to upset him. Surely he wasn’t so angry at
Jesse for bringing her out here that he would take it out on her as
well. Then again, maybe he was. She certainly didn’t know anything
about him other than the fact he was far too pleasing to look at
and her pulse leaped whenever he was near. Other than that, Rafe
Samuels was an enigma. One she didn’t think he’d ever give her the
chance to figure out. With his hot and cold attitude toward her,
she wondered why she even wanted to.

* * * *

She was wearing pink and green
stripes. The moment Rafe stepped out of the barn, the sight of her
halted his steps. He could do nothing but stare.

The dress was an eye catcher and
the hat sitting on her head looked like it had a bird's nest
perched on one side, complete with feathers and a thin gauzy veil.
Her golden hair was pulled into some fancy concoction with ringlets
falling down her back and she carried a little umbrella embellished
with lace.

Tugging on a small pair of gloves,
she turned her head, giving him a look that said she was used to
men gawking at her. He could see why they did.
He didn't think he’d ever seen anything so ridiculously
gaudy and tantalizing as her in his entire life.

He watched her cross the
yard, her head held high and her breasts jutting out so temptingly
in the tight fitting bodice his cock took notice moments after his
brain did. Visions of her butt ass naked and sprinkled with water
droplets screeched across his brain and all the blood in his body
headed south as he stared at her.

She certainly didn’t
belong in Willow Creek. Hell she didn’t belong anywhere near
Montana. She was a city lady through and through. One glance at her
told you that.

He watched Jesse run
around the old buckboard to help her up, offering her a hand and
grinning like an idiot. He wondered how the kid was going to handle
the trip into town alone. He didn’t like driving the wagon. Ever
since he’d lost control of the horses a few months back and ended
up face down in a ditch with the buckboard on top of him he'd shied
away from it. Maybe that was why he always had that old mule to
pull the wagon now.

When Grace was seated, her
skirts filling the seat, Jesse checked the cinches on the mule
before climbing up and taking the seat beside of her. He was still
grinning as he grabbed the reins and gave them a light flick to get
the animal moving. When they neared the fence, Grace looked back
over her shoulder at him. The moment his gaze locked with hers,
every word he’d ever said to her came back in an instant. He
regretted most of them.

He turned and walked back into the barn, grabbing the
shovel and entering the stall the mule had been in. It was Jesse’s
job to shovel out the stalls, but, like most days, his brother had
other things to do. Today, it was escorting
his wife
to town.

The very notion of Grace
being married burned like acid in Rafe’s stomach. He couldn’t
imagine her being any man’s wife. There wasn’t one around who was
good enough for her, that included himself.

He’d lain awake most of
the night thinking of her, his cock at attention and no way to
relieve it that would leave him sated and satisfied. The only way
he would accomplish that was to bury himself so deep inside of her
he wouldn’t be able to tell where she started and he
ended.

He regretted speaking to her the way he did but he wasn’t
sure how to treat her. If he was honest with himself he knew
exactly how he
wanted
to treat her. Like a woman he had
half a chance of making his, but that would never happen. He wasn't
about to risk his heart again and he could only imagine what Jesse
would say if he did. Not to mention Grace. He’d probably be the
last man she’d ever consider as a proper suitor anyway.

It didn’t make the
prospect any less appealing, though. Grace was certainly the kind
of woman a man would love to have for a wife. Beautiful, strong
willed and brave. She had to be to have traveled so great a
distance alone.

When the stall was clean,
he wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and looked toward
the house. It was still a sight. The grass had died ages ago and
the railing on the porch was all but rotten. He’d been meaning to
fix it but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. With winter coming on,
he didn’t see himself finding the time. There was too much to do
yet before the snows came but with Grace here, he wanted to make
the time. He didn’t want her living like this. In a rundown house
that was drafty and just plain ugly to look at. She deserved
better. Better than anything he could give her.

He sighed and shook his head, pushing thoughts of Grace out
of his mind. He would drive himself crazy if he didn’t. Thinking of
her only brought home the realization that he couldn’t have her
regardless of how much he actually wanted her. He stopped, his last
thought whispering across his mind again
. He wanted her. He wanted Grace for his
own.

Dread filled him with the
moment the notion took root. He shook his head, realized the truth
of it as far back as the stagecoach station, when she looked up at
him with those violet eyes and stole his heart with a single
smile.

He wanted her. He would
admit it, but he'd be damned if he did anything about
it.

Chapter Ten

Grace took in the town of
Willow Creek with a less critical eye. She realized now she’d
misjudged it when arriving. Sure it was nothing like Boston, but
what town was? Especially one so far west as this.

The streets were still
deeply rutted but on closer inspection, the buildings seemed solid
enough. Some were in need of white-washing but other than that, the
two-story facades were very similar to those she'd seen in larger
settlements.

A school house sat at the
end of the street, set off by itself with a large play area on one
side. A new building was being erected in front of it and was
positioned right beside the marshal’s office, which was the first
building in the row, followed by what looked to be a hotel at the
end of the street.

Grace was surprised to see
the hotel. She wouldn’t have thought a town so small would have
one, but with the stagecoach line running through Willow Creek, it
made sense.

The mercantile was in the
middle of town, and across the street was the Diamondback Saloon.
The riotous music and painted women hovering near the door told you
that much without the sign hanging over the door.

Grace turned her attention
from town toward Jesse as he parked the wagon in front of the store
and ran around to help her down. “Thank you, Jesse.”

“Welcome.”

He glanced down the street
toward the school and Grace wondered then why he didn’t attend. She
left the question for later discussion and turned toward the store.
“Is there anything I should know before going in?”

“Like what?”

She smiled. “Well, is
there a limit to what I may spend? Should I give the clerk your
name or Rafe’s? Is there anything in particular you would like for
me to purchase?”

Jesse’s brows scrunched as
he thought. He shrugged his shoulder after considering her
questions. “Nope. You can spend what you like and I can’t think of
nothing I need. I’ll go in and tell Mrs. Jenkins it’s all right for
ya to be charging on our account.”

He went in without another
word and came back out moments later. He looked back toward the
school and Grace followed his gaze. The children were all in the
yard, playing some sort of game. She smiled before clutching her
reticule. “What will you do while I’m inside?”

“Nothing much.” He glanced
at her before looking back down the street. “You need any help,
just ask Mrs. Jenkins. She’s a nice enough lady. I’ll get whatever
you buy when I come back to fetch ya.”

He left then, heading down
the sidewalk toward the school. Grace smiled at his retreating form
before turning to the mercantile. She walked in and let her eyes
adjust to the low light.

When she could see inside
the dimly lit building, her spirits plummeted. This was not what
she’d been expecting.

The mercantile was
cluttered from floor to ceiling with goods. Large wooden barrels
took up most of the space. Tables with clothing stacked on top ran
along the walls and near the back, Grace could see cloth goods and
bolts upon bolts of fabric in the most unattractive colors she’d
ever seen.

A woman with graying hair
was standing behind the counter staring at her. She was thin with a
pinched expression. Small spectacles were perched on her nose and
the woman’s eyes looked too large for her face.

Grace smiled at her and
straightened her spine. “Hello.”

The woman nodded her head.
“How do?”

“Very fine, thank you.”
Grace gave the store another quick look before walking to the
counter. “Are you Mrs. Jenkins?”

“I am. You the lady Jesse
was talking about?”

“Yes. I’m Grace
Kingston.”

Mrs. Jenkins looked up at
Grace’s hat, studying it for long moments before looking down at
her dress. “Where you come from?”

“Boston.”

Mrs. Jenkins nodded her
head again. “That what people are wearing in the big
city’s?”

Grace glanced at her
dress. “It is.” She looked at Mrs. Jenkins own dress and smiled. It
was unembellished. A simple work dress, the type of garment Grace
herself needed to be wearing. “Yours is very nice as well. Can I
purchase one just like it here or will I need to order
one?”

Mrs. Jenkins eyes widened
a bit before looking down at her plain brown cotton dress. “What
would you want something like this for?”

Normally, Grace wouldn’t
have. The material looked scratchy, the color reminded her of mud
and the cut was unflattering. But it would be perfect for work
around the house. She’d seen the looks Rafe gave her while she
worked around the kitchen in her sateen dresses. They were
unsuitable for work. The dress Mrs. Jenkins had on was perfect. “I
need work dresses,” Grace finally said. “Everything I have is
similar to this one.”

“I got a few.” Mrs.
Jenkins looked at Grace’s dress again. Her eyes lit up as she took
it all in and Grace held back a smile. “They’re fancier than the
one I'm wearing but only because there’s flowers on them. The cut
is the same.”

“Wonderful!” Grace turned
toward the back of the store. “Are they back there?”

“Yes.”

Grace set her reticule on
the counter and reached inside, pulling the note she’d written her
list on. She handed it to Mrs. Jenkins before venturing to the back
of the store to look through the dresses. Nearly a half hour had
gone by when Jesse came into the store. Grace was still looking at
dresses when he stopped beside of her. “Have I been long?” she
asked.

“No. I just got
bored.”

“Oh. Well, I think Mrs.
Jenkins may have the food stuff I wanted packed.”

Jesse looked at the
dresses Grace had draped across her arm. “You ain't getting those,
are ya?”

Grace looked at the
dresses. They were plain, in flowered prints, Calico the sign said,
but they were practical. She smiled and said, “Yes. Don’t you like
them?”

“They’re all right. Your
fancy ones are better though. Those will make you look like every
other woman in town and you ain't. You’re purtier than all of ‘em
put together.”

He blushed after giving
her the compliment and turned without another word. Grace smiled
and walked across the store to the counter. “Hello again," she said
in greeting to Mrs. Jenkins. She set the things in her hand down.
"I'd like to get these as well but I don’t like putting my personal
purchases on the Samuels’ account. Would you be willing to
trade?”

Mrs. Jenkins eyed Grace’s
hat. “Depends.”

Grace smiled. “I have some
very fine pieces of jewelry I would be willing to
barter.”

Mrs. Jenkins tilted her
head as if thinking. “We could use some nice stuff. The men folk
are always looking for baubles to buy their wives.”