whiter than magnolias, and delicate hands that have never done anything more harsh than coax Chopin from a huge grand piano...”
“What’s her name?” Janna asked tightly.
“Who?”
“The silk lady you’re describing.”
“Silver MacKenzie, my brother’s wife.” Ty’s eyes opened, clear and hard. “But there are other women like her in England. I’m going to get one.”
Abruptly Janna came to her feet. She returned a few minutes later with a heavy book tucked under her left arm and carrying a bowl of soup with her right hand. She gave Ty the soup, opened the worn book to
Romeo and Juliet,
Act II, Scene II , and began to read:
“‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun...’”
Chapter Seven
That day set the pattern for the next two weeks. When Janna thought Ty had been pushing himself too hard in his efforts to regain full strength, she would bring out the Bible or the Shakespearean plays or the poetry of Dante, Milton, or Pope, and she would read aloud. Ty saw through what she was doing, but didn’t object. He had too much fun teasing “the boy” over the real meaning of the words in
The Song of Solomon
or Pope’s
The Rape of the Lock.
“Read that verse to me again,” he said, smiling. “You ran over it so fast I missed most of the words.”
She tilted her head down to the worn pages of the Bible and muttered, “‘Vanity of vanities...all
is
vanity.’”
“That’s Ecclesiastes,” Ty drawled. “You were reading
The Song of Solomon
and a woman was talking about her sweetheart. ‘My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens...’ Now what do you suppose that really means, boy?”
“He was hungry,” she said succinctly.
“Ah, but for what?” Ty asked, stretching. “When you know the answer, you’ll be a man no matter what your size or age.”
She looked at his long, muscular arms and the smooth give-and-take of his skin over his chest and torso and vowed again that she would go into Sweetwater first thing tomorrow and get Ty some clothes. She wasn’t going to be able to look at him running around in a breechcloth much longer without reaching out and stroking her hands over all that tempting masculine hide.
The thought of his shocked expression if she gave in to temptation restored her humor. It would be worth almost anything to see him shocked. Until that time came, she would have to be satisfied with watching his unease when she leaned too close or casually brushed against him, making him uncomfortable because of “the boy’s” closeness.
When Ty saw Janna’s full lips curve into a slow, almost hidden smile, he felt a jolt of something uncomfortably close to desire lance through him.
That boy is too damned feminine for my self-respect, much less for my peace of mind. I think I
’
d better take another long soak in that hot pool in the head of the valley.
Doubt that it will take the starch out of me, though. I haven
’
t been this hungry since I was fourteen.
Damnation
, but I need a woman.
Disgusted with himself, he came to his feet in a muscular rush.
Janna was so surprised by the abrupt movement that she dropped the book she was holding. A sheet of paper that had been held safely between the pages fluttered out. He scooped it up before she could. He looked at the paper and let out a low whistle of admiration.
“Now there is a real lady,” he said, gazing at the drawing of a woman in long, formal dress and elaborately coiffed hair. “Elegance like that is damned rare. Where did you get this?”
“Papa drew it when Mother was alive.”
“This is your mother?”
Janna nodded.
“I see where you get your fine bones and...”
Ty’s voice died. There was no point in telling the kid that his mouth would have done credit to a courtesan and his eyes were too big and too expressive to belong to a child of any age. So he kept his mind on the drawing
“What’s her name?” Janna asked tightly.
“Who?”
“The silk lady you’re describing.”
“Silver MacKenzie, my brother’s wife.” Ty’s eyes opened, clear and hard. “But there are other women like her in England. I’m going to get one.”
Abruptly Janna came to her feet. She returned a few minutes later with a heavy book tucked under her left arm and carrying a bowl of soup with her right hand. She gave Ty the soup, opened the worn book to
Romeo and Juliet,
Act II, Scene II , and began to read:
“‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun...’”
Chapter Seven
That day set the pattern for the next two weeks. When Janna thought Ty had been pushing himself too hard in his efforts to regain full strength, she would bring out the Bible or the Shakespearean plays or the poetry of Dante, Milton, or Pope, and she would read aloud. Ty saw through what she was doing, but didn’t object. He had too much fun teasing “the boy” over the real meaning of the words in
The Song of Solomon
or Pope’s
The Rape of the Lock.
“Read that verse to me again,” he said, smiling. “You ran over it so fast I missed most of the words.”
She tilted her head down to the worn pages of the Bible and muttered, “‘Vanity of vanities...all
is
vanity.’”
“That’s Ecclesiastes,” Ty drawled. “You were reading
The Song of Solomon
and a woman was talking about her sweetheart. ‘My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens...’ Now what do you suppose that really means, boy?”
“He was hungry,” she said succinctly.
“Ah, but for what?” Ty asked, stretching. “When you know the answer, you’ll be a man no matter what your size or age.”
She looked at his long, muscular arms and the smooth give-and-take of his skin over his chest and torso and vowed again that she would go into Sweetwater first thing tomorrow and get Ty some clothes. She wasn’t going to be able to look at him running around in a breechcloth much longer without reaching out and stroking her hands over all that tempting masculine hide.
The thought of his shocked expression if she gave in to temptation restored her humor. It would be worth almost anything to see him shocked. Until that time came, she would have to be satisfied with watching his unease when she leaned too close or casually brushed against him, making him uncomfortable because of “the boy’s” closeness.
When Ty saw Janna’s full lips curve into a slow, almost hidden smile, he felt a jolt of something uncomfortably close to desire lance through him.
That boy is too damned feminine for my self-respect, much less for my peace of mind. I think I
’
d better take another long soak in that hot pool in the head of the valley.
Doubt that it will take the starch out of me, though. I haven
’
t been this hungry since I was fourteen.
Damnation
, but I need a woman.
Disgusted with himself, he came to his feet in a muscular rush.
Janna was so surprised by the abrupt movement that she dropped the book she was holding. A sheet of paper that had been held safely between the pages fluttered out. He scooped it up before she could. He looked at the paper and let out a low whistle of admiration.
“Now there is a real lady,” he said, gazing at the drawing of a woman in long, formal dress and elaborately coiffed hair. “Elegance like that is damned rare. Where did you get this?”
“Papa drew it when Mother was alive.”
“This is your mother?”
Janna nodded.
“I see where you get your fine bones and...”
Ty’s voice died. There was no point in telling the kid that his mouth would have done credit to a courtesan and his eyes were too big and too expressive to belong to a child of any age. So he kept his mind on the drawing
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