Read Online His Mountain Miss (Smoky Mountain Matches) by Karen Kirst - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Kirst
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had a feeling she caused her poor parents a fair share of grief.
“Supper’s on the table,” Nicole announced brightly, smoothing her lace-and-ribbon-embellished purple skirts. “Please say you’ll join us, Mr. Beaumont.”
He glanced at Megan, uncertain of her feelings on the matter. He wanted to accept, not because he was particularly hungry, but because his curiosity had only increased in the time he’d been here.
Her hesitation lasted a fraction of a second before good manners kicked in, and she smiled her agreement. “Yes, please do. You can meet our younger sister, Jane, and taste her fine cooking. It’s simple fare,” she hastened to add, “nothing like you’re used to, I’m sure.”
“Not all of my meals are seven-course fanfares,” he said leaning towards her, a slight smile playing about his lips. “In fact, when I’m out hunting, I sometimes make do with a can of cold beans and hard biscuits.”
“I can scarcely believe it,” she responded with mock horror. “Lucian Beaumont, lord of the manor, eating out of a can? What would people say if they knew? I hope you at least had a fork and weren’t forced to use your fingers.”
Lord of the manor? Was that how she saw him? As some stuffy stick-in-the-mud?
“Well, beans aren’t on the menu tonight, thank goodness!” Nicole said with relief. “Jane’s fixed pot roast and all the trimmings. Let’s go eat before it gets cold.”
With a shrug and a smile, Megan fell into step beside him, explaining the whereabouts of her mother, Alice, and sisters Juliana and Jessica. There was no mention of a father, which meant the man had either abandoned his family or passed on. The question would have to wait until later.
Preceding Megan into the cabin, he stepped into a rectangular, low-ceilinged room crammed with furniture. Oval-backed chairs surrounded one long, chocolate-brown settee and a yellow-gold fainting couch. Two oversize hutches monopolized the wall space opposite him, while sewing baskets, fabrics and supplies occupied a low table in the far corner. To his left, impossibly steep stairs disappeared into an opening in the second floor. Beyond the living area, he glimpsed a narrow passageway that contained the dining table laden with dishes and, past that, the kitchen.
The rich aroma of succulent meat and fresh-baked bread hit him. His mouth watered. Perhaps he was hungrier than he’d thought.
As he understood it, until recently, six females had shared this cabin. That number was now at five. Despite the crowded nature of the space, they did a remarkable job of keeping it clean and clutter-free.
Auburn-haired Jane, he found, did resemble Megan to a degree. While her hair and eyes were different, she had the same cheekbones, nose and chin, though that last part lacked her older sister’s stubbornness. That could be due to her young age. Jane exuded the same gentle sweetness, but she lacked Megan’s spark, the inner fire that drew him unwillingly to her. Ignore it or fight it. If you don’t, you could wind up getting burned.
Beside him at the table, she was unusually quiet. She didn’t have to utter a word, however, for him to be aware of her every movement. Did she resent having him here?
He should’ve felt awkward, outnumbered as he was by unfamiliar females. However, the delicious meal and the younger girls’ eager inquiries about city life put him at ease, as did the realization that Nicole didn’t have her sights set on him. In fact, the thoughtful glances she slid between he and Megan indicated she had ideas about the two of them.
Pity she was bound to be disappointed.
* * *
Tonight Jane’s pot roast didn’t melt on Megan’s tongue. It was difficult to chew and even harder to swallow, and it was all his fault. Every time Lucian shifted in his seat, his shoulder brushed hers and her stomach took a dive. Once, when his knee bumped hers, she nearly toppled her lemonade. His masculine presence filled the room, robbing her
“Supper’s on the table,” Nicole announced brightly, smoothing her lace-and-ribbon-embellished purple skirts. “Please say you’ll join us, Mr. Beaumont.”
He glanced at Megan, uncertain of her feelings on the matter. He wanted to accept, not because he was particularly hungry, but because his curiosity had only increased in the time he’d been here.
Her hesitation lasted a fraction of a second before good manners kicked in, and she smiled her agreement. “Yes, please do. You can meet our younger sister, Jane, and taste her fine cooking. It’s simple fare,” she hastened to add, “nothing like you’re used to, I’m sure.”
“Not all of my meals are seven-course fanfares,” he said leaning towards her, a slight smile playing about his lips. “In fact, when I’m out hunting, I sometimes make do with a can of cold beans and hard biscuits.”
“I can scarcely believe it,” she responded with mock horror. “Lucian Beaumont, lord of the manor, eating out of a can? What would people say if they knew? I hope you at least had a fork and weren’t forced to use your fingers.”
Lord of the manor? Was that how she saw him? As some stuffy stick-in-the-mud?
“Well, beans aren’t on the menu tonight, thank goodness!” Nicole said with relief. “Jane’s fixed pot roast and all the trimmings. Let’s go eat before it gets cold.”
With a shrug and a smile, Megan fell into step beside him, explaining the whereabouts of her mother, Alice, and sisters Juliana and Jessica. There was no mention of a father, which meant the man had either abandoned his family or passed on. The question would have to wait until later.
Preceding Megan into the cabin, he stepped into a rectangular, low-ceilinged room crammed with furniture. Oval-backed chairs surrounded one long, chocolate-brown settee and a yellow-gold fainting couch. Two oversize hutches monopolized the wall space opposite him, while sewing baskets, fabrics and supplies occupied a low table in the far corner. To his left, impossibly steep stairs disappeared into an opening in the second floor. Beyond the living area, he glimpsed a narrow passageway that contained the dining table laden with dishes and, past that, the kitchen.
The rich aroma of succulent meat and fresh-baked bread hit him. His mouth watered. Perhaps he was hungrier than he’d thought.
As he understood it, until recently, six females had shared this cabin. That number was now at five. Despite the crowded nature of the space, they did a remarkable job of keeping it clean and clutter-free.
Auburn-haired Jane, he found, did resemble Megan to a degree. While her hair and eyes were different, she had the same cheekbones, nose and chin, though that last part lacked her older sister’s stubbornness. That could be due to her young age. Jane exuded the same gentle sweetness, but she lacked Megan’s spark, the inner fire that drew him unwillingly to her. Ignore it or fight it. If you don’t, you could wind up getting burned.
Beside him at the table, she was unusually quiet. She didn’t have to utter a word, however, for him to be aware of her every movement. Did she resent having him here?
He should’ve felt awkward, outnumbered as he was by unfamiliar females. However, the delicious meal and the younger girls’ eager inquiries about city life put him at ease, as did the realization that Nicole didn’t have her sights set on him. In fact, the thoughtful glances she slid between he and Megan indicated she had ideas about the two of them.
Pity she was bound to be disappointed.
* * *
Tonight Jane’s pot roast didn’t melt on Megan’s tongue. It was difficult to chew and even harder to swallow, and it was all his fault. Every time Lucian shifted in his seat, his shoulder brushed hers and her stomach took a dive. Once, when his knee bumped hers, she nearly toppled her lemonade. His masculine presence filled the room, robbing her
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