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Authors: Loretta Chase
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at his eye level. “My name’s Rachel. What’s yours?”
“Cody.” When he drew his fist from his eye, he had to blink to get his sooty eyelashes untangled. She noticed that a streak of dirt angled across one of his cheeks. He regarded her for several moments, his expression more serious than a child’s his age should have been. With a pronounced lisp that distorted all his S’s, he added, “I’m almost seven.”
“Not for nine more months,” Clint corrected. “And what are you doin’, sleepin’ in the parlor, tyke? Not to mention it’s nigh onto noon.”
“Nobody woke me to go upstairs last night.” Cody dragged a suspender strap up over his shoulder. “And don’t call me ‘tyke,’ Clint. I’m too old for little kid names.”
Rachel couldn’t suppress a smile. “I thought you were at least eight,” she fibbed. “You must be very tall for your age.”
Cody rewarded her with a pleased grin that revealed large gaps where he was missing front teeth. “Clint says I’m only knee high.”
“Yes, well, considering how high his knees are, that’s rather tall for someone your age,” Rachel observed diplomatically. “I think lofty stature runs in your family.” She glanced up at Clint. “You didn’t mention having a brother so—” She nearly said “little” but stopped herself.
“Grown up?” he inserted quickly.
Rachel smiled and pushed to her feet. “Exactly.”
He flashed her a meaningful look. “Like I said, I have my reasons for wantin’ a wife.”
Now that Rachel had met Cody, she could understand Clint’s willingness to do nearly anything to ensure the little boy’s happiness, even playing groom to her bride in a shotgun wedding. The problem was, his feelings were bound to change, if not when he learned she was half blind, then when he saw her in spectacles. Given the severity of her eyeproblem, her glasses had unusually thick lenses that would have detracted from her looks even if she’d been the most beautiful woman in the world. Rachel had learned the hard way that handsome men wanted to be with equally handsome women, which she definitely was not when she had spectacles perched on the end of her nose.
Before Rachel could stand back up, an older boy came tearing down the loft ladder into the kitchen. In the process of buttoning his blue jeans, he froze when he spotted Rachel. “Well, dammit, Clint!” The youth hurried to get his pants fastened. “You could’ve hollered out that we had us some company.”
“Meet Daniel,” Clint said by way of introduction, glancing first at Rachel, then inclining his head at the boy. “Fourteen, goin’ on eighty. Excuse his language, but I ran low on soap.”
Since soap was clearly a commodity in short supply, Rachel had no difficulty believing that. Daniel’s undershirt, which had once been gray, was now more of a brown. Still hunkered in front of Cody, she bestowed a friendly smile on him. “Hello, Daniel. I’m pleased to meet you.”
He inclined his head. “Same here.”
Good manners, it seemed, were another area Clint had neglected. She stood and surveyed the kitchen, feeling overwhelmed. Clint had gone along with marrying her because he needed a woman around the house; he’d made no secret of that. He was, in short, offering her a life here in exchange for her skills as a house keeper and cook. It was just that simple.
Most women, Rachel knew, would be insulted. They wanted a man to be attracted to them for their looks, to love them for their personalities, to marry them for reasons of the heart. But Rachel had learned long ago not to expect any of those things. She wasn’t insulted by Clint’s offer. To the contrary, she was titillated, not to mention sorely tempted to take him up on it.
There was just one problem. A rather big problem. Sincethe death of Rachel’s mother when Rachel was four, Mrs. Radcliff, the house keeper her father had hired, had seen to the running of the Constantine house hold. A woman
“Cody.” When he drew his fist from his eye, he had to blink to get his sooty eyelashes untangled. She noticed that a streak of dirt angled across one of his cheeks. He regarded her for several moments, his expression more serious than a child’s his age should have been. With a pronounced lisp that distorted all his S’s, he added, “I’m almost seven.”
“Not for nine more months,” Clint corrected. “And what are you doin’, sleepin’ in the parlor, tyke? Not to mention it’s nigh onto noon.”
“Nobody woke me to go upstairs last night.” Cody dragged a suspender strap up over his shoulder. “And don’t call me ‘tyke,’ Clint. I’m too old for little kid names.”
Rachel couldn’t suppress a smile. “I thought you were at least eight,” she fibbed. “You must be very tall for your age.”
Cody rewarded her with a pleased grin that revealed large gaps where he was missing front teeth. “Clint says I’m only knee high.”
“Yes, well, considering how high his knees are, that’s rather tall for someone your age,” Rachel observed diplomatically. “I think lofty stature runs in your family.” She glanced up at Clint. “You didn’t mention having a brother so—” She nearly said “little” but stopped herself.
“Grown up?” he inserted quickly.
Rachel smiled and pushed to her feet. “Exactly.”
He flashed her a meaningful look. “Like I said, I have my reasons for wantin’ a wife.”
Now that Rachel had met Cody, she could understand Clint’s willingness to do nearly anything to ensure the little boy’s happiness, even playing groom to her bride in a shotgun wedding. The problem was, his feelings were bound to change, if not when he learned she was half blind, then when he saw her in spectacles. Given the severity of her eyeproblem, her glasses had unusually thick lenses that would have detracted from her looks even if she’d been the most beautiful woman in the world. Rachel had learned the hard way that handsome men wanted to be with equally handsome women, which she definitely was not when she had spectacles perched on the end of her nose.
Before Rachel could stand back up, an older boy came tearing down the loft ladder into the kitchen. In the process of buttoning his blue jeans, he froze when he spotted Rachel. “Well, dammit, Clint!” The youth hurried to get his pants fastened. “You could’ve hollered out that we had us some company.”
“Meet Daniel,” Clint said by way of introduction, glancing first at Rachel, then inclining his head at the boy. “Fourteen, goin’ on eighty. Excuse his language, but I ran low on soap.”
Since soap was clearly a commodity in short supply, Rachel had no difficulty believing that. Daniel’s undershirt, which had once been gray, was now more of a brown. Still hunkered in front of Cody, she bestowed a friendly smile on him. “Hello, Daniel. I’m pleased to meet you.”
He inclined his head. “Same here.”
Good manners, it seemed, were another area Clint had neglected. She stood and surveyed the kitchen, feeling overwhelmed. Clint had gone along with marrying her because he needed a woman around the house; he’d made no secret of that. He was, in short, offering her a life here in exchange for her skills as a house keeper and cook. It was just that simple.
Most women, Rachel knew, would be insulted. They wanted a man to be attracted to them for their looks, to love them for their personalities, to marry them for reasons of the heart. But Rachel had learned long ago not to expect any of those things. She wasn’t insulted by Clint’s offer. To the contrary, she was titillated, not to mention sorely tempted to take him up on it.
There was just one problem. A rather big problem. Sincethe death of Rachel’s mother when Rachel was four, Mrs. Radcliff, the house keeper her father had hired, had seen to the running of the Constantine house hold. A woman
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