Read Online Three Times a Bride by Loretta Chase - Free Book Online
Authors: Loretta Chase
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was talking about. “Did we smash what?”
“The poor bunny,” she asked thinly.
The poor bunny? Clint stared down at her pale face, still not convinced he was reading this correctly. True, the girl had been born and raised in town, but surely that hadn’t entirely insulated her from the realities of life, rabbit stew ranking high on the list. “No, we didn’t smash the rabbit,” he replied in a voice that had gone oddly tight. “He made it across without even getting his fur ruffled.”
Her breath rushed from her chest and her eyes fluttered open. Splaying a small hand over her throat, she swallowed audibly and gave a weak smile. “Oh, thank goodness. They’re such sweet little things, don’t you think? I particularly love the way they wiggle their noses.”
After studying her for a moment, Clint gave himself a hard mental shake. There was no point in thinking the worst.Just because the girl was worried about one wild bunny, that didn’t mean she would be squeamish about cooking up the occasional rabbit stew.
Surely not.
Six
The Rafferty ranch was nestled among a stand of tall pines in a grassy valley completely surrounded by forested mountains. As soon as she got close enough to see it clearly, Rachel found it breathtaking.
As Clint steered his stallion down to the house, she couldn’t shake the feeling of rightness that came over her. It was as if she’d been waiting all her life for this moment, and possibly for this man. Crazy, so crazy. She was making absolutely no sense. This marriage was a mockery and doomed to be dissolved. To entertain the notion that it might be otherwise was absolute madness.
As Clint drew the horse up at the edge of the porch, she saw a blur of white next to an odd-looking stump. Peering more intently, she realized she was seeing a chopping block, with chicken feathers strewn at the base. Instantly queasy, she jerked her gaze to the house itself. Anything to keep from imagining the blood and gore that must have accompanied the recent slaughter.
The house was simplicity itself, a sprawling structure of rough-hewn logs and a cedar shake roof. It wasn’t pretty byany stretch of the imagination, though it could have been charming if any attempt at all had been made to pretty it up.
To say that hadn’t happened struck her as a gross understatement. In fact, by the looks of things, just the opposite had occurred. Even without her glasses, she could make out a rusted old washtub on one side of the front porch with a weathered scrub board standing on end inside it and a pair of dirt-encrusted gray socks draped over its rim. Next to the tub lay a discarded flour sack, out of which had spilled some flour gone wet and gooey in the rain, then turned rock hard in the sun. Behind the flour sack, a partially used sack of spuds had been propped against the house within easy reach of the front door. All in all, the place looked as if a band of none-too-tidy squatters had taken up residence.
“Things could use some cleanin’ up,” Clint said apologetically.
“Oh, it’s lovely. Really. I like log houses. Don’t you?” In actuality, Rachel preferred clapboard, but she would never risk hurting his feelings by saying so.
Glancing back at him over her shoulder, her gaze caught on his firm mouth. She couldn’t help but recall how it had felt to be in his arms last night, how dizzily she had succumbed to his kisses. Thinking back on it, she wondered how it might feel to be kissed by him again. In the light of day, would she find his embrace boring and unexciting, as she had Lawson’s? Or as had happened last night, would the first touch of his lips on hers steal her breath away? It would probably be just as well if she never found out, she decided. Her sister Molly wasn’t the only young girl who’d ever gotten her heart broken. Rachel had as well, and if she’d learned anything from the experience, it was that handsome men didn’t find women like her attractive.
As he shifted
“The poor bunny,” she asked thinly.
The poor bunny? Clint stared down at her pale face, still not convinced he was reading this correctly. True, the girl had been born and raised in town, but surely that hadn’t entirely insulated her from the realities of life, rabbit stew ranking high on the list. “No, we didn’t smash the rabbit,” he replied in a voice that had gone oddly tight. “He made it across without even getting his fur ruffled.”
Her breath rushed from her chest and her eyes fluttered open. Splaying a small hand over her throat, she swallowed audibly and gave a weak smile. “Oh, thank goodness. They’re such sweet little things, don’t you think? I particularly love the way they wiggle their noses.”
After studying her for a moment, Clint gave himself a hard mental shake. There was no point in thinking the worst.Just because the girl was worried about one wild bunny, that didn’t mean she would be squeamish about cooking up the occasional rabbit stew.
Surely not.
Six
The Rafferty ranch was nestled among a stand of tall pines in a grassy valley completely surrounded by forested mountains. As soon as she got close enough to see it clearly, Rachel found it breathtaking.
As Clint steered his stallion down to the house, she couldn’t shake the feeling of rightness that came over her. It was as if she’d been waiting all her life for this moment, and possibly for this man. Crazy, so crazy. She was making absolutely no sense. This marriage was a mockery and doomed to be dissolved. To entertain the notion that it might be otherwise was absolute madness.
As Clint drew the horse up at the edge of the porch, she saw a blur of white next to an odd-looking stump. Peering more intently, she realized she was seeing a chopping block, with chicken feathers strewn at the base. Instantly queasy, she jerked her gaze to the house itself. Anything to keep from imagining the blood and gore that must have accompanied the recent slaughter.
The house was simplicity itself, a sprawling structure of rough-hewn logs and a cedar shake roof. It wasn’t pretty byany stretch of the imagination, though it could have been charming if any attempt at all had been made to pretty it up.
To say that hadn’t happened struck her as a gross understatement. In fact, by the looks of things, just the opposite had occurred. Even without her glasses, she could make out a rusted old washtub on one side of the front porch with a weathered scrub board standing on end inside it and a pair of dirt-encrusted gray socks draped over its rim. Next to the tub lay a discarded flour sack, out of which had spilled some flour gone wet and gooey in the rain, then turned rock hard in the sun. Behind the flour sack, a partially used sack of spuds had been propped against the house within easy reach of the front door. All in all, the place looked as if a band of none-too-tidy squatters had taken up residence.
“Things could use some cleanin’ up,” Clint said apologetically.
“Oh, it’s lovely. Really. I like log houses. Don’t you?” In actuality, Rachel preferred clapboard, but she would never risk hurting his feelings by saying so.
Glancing back at him over her shoulder, her gaze caught on his firm mouth. She couldn’t help but recall how it had felt to be in his arms last night, how dizzily she had succumbed to his kisses. Thinking back on it, she wondered how it might feel to be kissed by him again. In the light of day, would she find his embrace boring and unexciting, as she had Lawson’s? Or as had happened last night, would the first touch of his lips on hers steal her breath away? It would probably be just as well if she never found out, she decided. Her sister Molly wasn’t the only young girl who’d ever gotten her heart broken. Rachel had as well, and if she’d learned anything from the experience, it was that handsome men didn’t find women like her attractive.
As he shifted
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