High Country Bride by Linda Lael Miller Page B

acquaintance yet, though.”
    “Kade McKettrick, ma’am,” he said rather gravely, as though the occasion of meeting her was one of lasting personal significance, leaving Jeb at the sink to come and sit beside her on the bench. Kade was good-looking, like the others, and smelled of night air and some costly cologne. “I’m the middle brother.” He put out a hand, cold from the pump water, and she took it, bemused. Jeb had not mentioned Kade on the trip out from Indian Rock, and she wondered why.
    “I’m happy to meet you,” Emmeline said politely, though she didn’t spare a smile. Her gaze slid back to Rafe, and she saw that his eyes were narrowed and his jaw was clamped down hard. The realization that he was nettled by the attention she paid his brothers cheered her unaccountably.
    “Jeb tells me you hail from Kansas City,” Kade began, in an engaging tone. “Do you have a lot of family back there?”
    Emmeline’s throat tightened right up again, as quickly as that. It was dark, she was in a strange new place, not the bustling city she was used to, but a ranch, with miles of untamed frontier surrounding her, and she was married to a man she’d never laid eyes on before that day. What in the world had she been thinking, leaving home the way she had, burning her bridges behind her? “I have an aunt,” she said hesitantly, at some length, and very quietly, hoping that said aunt would still be willing to claim her. “Her name is Becky Harding.” She looked down, looked up again. “My parents died when I was an infant, and I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
    Jeb swung a leg over the bench on the opposite side, sitting next to Rafe, whom he studiously ignored, and reached for the bread plate. His smile, like Kade’s, was easy, sympathetic, but without pity, and thereby quite endearing. “That must have been a hard thing, growing up without a family.” He let a beat pass, then turned the conversation in another direction. “Do you like to ride horseback? I could cut you a pony out of the herd tomorrow—”
    Before Emmeline could reply that she’d never actually ridden a horse, though she’d very much like to try, Rafe interceded, glaring at his brother.
    “If my wife wants to ride,” he said, “I’ll be the one to provide the hse.”
    Emmeline was stung by Rafe’s rude, officious manner, and she bristled, but Jeb merely grinned and speared a turnip with his fork. His blue eyes were merry with the knowledge that he’d gotten under his brother’s skin so handily. Kade, too, seemed amused, though his expression was carefully bland.
    “That might not be a good idea,” Angus ventured solemnly, from his end of the table, where he did not merely sit but rather presided, like the benevolent ruler of some vast and hardwon kingdom. “Miss Emmeline going riding, I mean. Not if there’s likely to be a child coming along soon.”
    Emmeline, who had been eating with good appetite—she had economized on food during her journey, fearing to run short of funds and find herself facing some unforeseen emergency—flushed now, and set down her fork with a clatter. She felt the pull of Rafe’s gaze but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Inevitably, she thought of the Texan who had almost certainly had his way with her the night of her grand folly—why else would he have left gold behind in payment, after all?—and wondered if indeed there was a child growing within her. Becky had long since explained the mechanics of such matters, and Emmeline had waited in vain for her monthly ever since. Her cycle had never been regular, a fact that gave her small comfort now.
    “Angus McKettrick,” Concepcion scolded. “What kind of talk is that? I swear, you have the manners of a warthog!”
    Angus reddened, a sound escaped Jeb—a chortle, perhaps, quickly contained—and Kade feigned a cough.
    “Now, Concepcion,” Angus said, sounding defensive as well as chagrined, “it’s not like nobody around here