Read Online The Measure of a Lady by Deeanne Gist - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deeanne Gist
Ads: Link
or woman. Lawyers, doctors, and scoundrels alike dress exactly the same and share the same ambitions. You’ll find that women who dress so fine are not often of the churchgoing sort.’’
‘‘But why?’’ Lissa asked.
He smiled gently. ‘‘Because God-fearing women haven’t the time to dress in such a fine manner, my dear. They are too busy feeding their families and attending to their duties at home.’’
————
Swinging down from his horse, Johnnie felt conspicuous in his go-to-meeting clothes. Why hadn’t he simply worn his cotton trousers and flannel shirt?
He had no desire to pursue a permanent relationship with a woman, but he had missed the companionship of a female who was interested in something other than how much gold she could lift from his pockets.
Of course, all sunbonnets wanted marriage. So he’d have to tread very, very lightly and make sure she understood their relationship was strictly business.
He needed someone to save his trees. They’d cost a cock and a hen to import, and watching them die gave him such a feeling of impotence. He had to do something. Even if it meant employing Rachel’s help.
He wrapped his mustang’s and the mare’s reins around the hitching pole and headed down the alley. He’d scoured the city for a sidesaddle, paid a ridiculous amount for it, then told Adams down at the livery to have his horses ready for a Sunday outing.
Johnnie reached the door Michael had installed on the shanty and paused. What if she was wearing a calico? What if he stood here in his courting clothes and she stood in there dressed for outdoor labor? What if she didn’t have on a calico? What if she wore her courting clothes?
He needed to run over to his cabin and put on his flannels. What was he thinking to wear such a getup when the last thing he wanted to do was go courting?
But it had been as natural as breathing. When you picked up a lady on a Sunday afternoon, you wore your Sunday clothes. The thought held him paralyzed a second too long, and Michael opened the door.
‘‘Mr. Parker? What are you standing out there for?’’ he asked. ‘‘Did you have something for me to do?’’
‘‘Uh, no. Nothing today, Michael, thanks. Is your sister home?’’
‘‘Which one?’’
‘‘Miss Van Buren.’’
Michael smiled.
Johnnie relaxed his shoulders. ‘‘The elder, please.’’
Michael stepped back. ‘‘Come on in.’’
Johnnie crossed the threshold.
‘‘Rachel, it’s Mr. Parker. I’m going outside.’’
The boy slammed out the door, leaving Johnnie high and dry.
She was standing by the fireplace, wearing some green thing with a pouffy skirt, a waist so small he could encircle it with one hand, and tucks going all across the bodice in such a way that he could hardly pull his gaze up where it belonged.
But direct it he did, and when it connected with hers, breathing grew difficult. Her cheeks glowed, her lips parted, and those blasted tucks on her bodice moved upward with every breath she took.
Say something . ‘‘You ready, then?’’
She jerked. ‘‘Yes. Of course. Well.’’ She turned to her sister. ‘‘You’ll be all right, Lissa?’’
Lissa sat at the table, a book in her hands, legs crossed, one foot swinging. She gave him a knowing look. ‘‘Guess I will. Sure you don’t need a chaperone?’’
Rachel frowned, fingering the brooch at her neck. He could see Rachel thought that just maybe she did.
‘‘I’ve only two horses,’’ he said. ‘‘We’ll be fine. But if you like, I can have Michael walk up to the place. He knows where it is.’’
Rachel’s expression smoothed. ‘‘Yes. Let’s. That would be . . . good. Very good.’’
She picked up a cloth-covered basket and he opened the door then looked back at Lissa.
Lissa waggled two fingers. ‘‘Have fun.’’
————
Michael had stopped to admire the horses. He now held the mare’s head and the food basket while Johnnie grasped Rachel’s waist and
‘‘But why?’’ Lissa asked.
He smiled gently. ‘‘Because God-fearing women haven’t the time to dress in such a fine manner, my dear. They are too busy feeding their families and attending to their duties at home.’’
————
Swinging down from his horse, Johnnie felt conspicuous in his go-to-meeting clothes. Why hadn’t he simply worn his cotton trousers and flannel shirt?
He had no desire to pursue a permanent relationship with a woman, but he had missed the companionship of a female who was interested in something other than how much gold she could lift from his pockets.
Of course, all sunbonnets wanted marriage. So he’d have to tread very, very lightly and make sure she understood their relationship was strictly business.
He needed someone to save his trees. They’d cost a cock and a hen to import, and watching them die gave him such a feeling of impotence. He had to do something. Even if it meant employing Rachel’s help.
He wrapped his mustang’s and the mare’s reins around the hitching pole and headed down the alley. He’d scoured the city for a sidesaddle, paid a ridiculous amount for it, then told Adams down at the livery to have his horses ready for a Sunday outing.
Johnnie reached the door Michael had installed on the shanty and paused. What if she was wearing a calico? What if he stood here in his courting clothes and she stood in there dressed for outdoor labor? What if she didn’t have on a calico? What if she wore her courting clothes?
He needed to run over to his cabin and put on his flannels. What was he thinking to wear such a getup when the last thing he wanted to do was go courting?
But it had been as natural as breathing. When you picked up a lady on a Sunday afternoon, you wore your Sunday clothes. The thought held him paralyzed a second too long, and Michael opened the door.
‘‘Mr. Parker? What are you standing out there for?’’ he asked. ‘‘Did you have something for me to do?’’
‘‘Uh, no. Nothing today, Michael, thanks. Is your sister home?’’
‘‘Which one?’’
‘‘Miss Van Buren.’’
Michael smiled.
Johnnie relaxed his shoulders. ‘‘The elder, please.’’
Michael stepped back. ‘‘Come on in.’’
Johnnie crossed the threshold.
‘‘Rachel, it’s Mr. Parker. I’m going outside.’’
The boy slammed out the door, leaving Johnnie high and dry.
She was standing by the fireplace, wearing some green thing with a pouffy skirt, a waist so small he could encircle it with one hand, and tucks going all across the bodice in such a way that he could hardly pull his gaze up where it belonged.
But direct it he did, and when it connected with hers, breathing grew difficult. Her cheeks glowed, her lips parted, and those blasted tucks on her bodice moved upward with every breath she took.
Say something . ‘‘You ready, then?’’
She jerked. ‘‘Yes. Of course. Well.’’ She turned to her sister. ‘‘You’ll be all right, Lissa?’’
Lissa sat at the table, a book in her hands, legs crossed, one foot swinging. She gave him a knowing look. ‘‘Guess I will. Sure you don’t need a chaperone?’’
Rachel frowned, fingering the brooch at her neck. He could see Rachel thought that just maybe she did.
‘‘I’ve only two horses,’’ he said. ‘‘We’ll be fine. But if you like, I can have Michael walk up to the place. He knows where it is.’’
Rachel’s expression smoothed. ‘‘Yes. Let’s. That would be . . . good. Very good.’’
She picked up a cloth-covered basket and he opened the door then looked back at Lissa.
Lissa waggled two fingers. ‘‘Have fun.’’
————
Michael had stopped to admire the horses. He now held the mare’s head and the food basket while Johnnie grasped Rachel’s waist and
Similar Books
