belly, but she wondered if it was the scotch that made her feel that way or the lanky, raw man beside her. When he looked at her questioningly, she explained, “How is it that you are in England?”
Coffin took a drink of whiskey, and gazed into the fire, contemplative. “Jake left me a note in that safety deposit box. He told me to get out of pushin’ cows while I still had all my fingers and toes. He said I had too much goin’ on upstairs to sit on the back of a horse the rest of my life, and he wanted the money to be a way out.”
“Do you agree with him?”
He shrugged. “A body can’t cowboy forever. I know that. Eventually, a man’s going to wind up dead. And the railroads are makin’ men like me unnecessary. Soon enough, there won’t be any cattle drives any more, and I’ll be just another blowhard sittin’ in the saloon, spinnin’ yarns.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“That’s what brought me out to your lovely country, Lady Xavier,” he said, a smile disappearing under one side of his mustache.
Coffin reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a brittle, blackened piece of paper. It looked to be damaged by fire and years of use. Setting down his glass on the mantle, he carefully unfolded the paper. It astonished her to see him handle something so tenderly and with such care—his hands seemed capable of immense strength, and yet he opened the paper as gently as holding a baby chick.
“Careful, now,” he warned as he handed the paper to her.
Also setting down her glass, she took the sheet and scanned it. It was written with a man’s sure hand, but the ink had browned and faded.
“Dear Mister Hardene,
We have at last settled and the baby is fine. Tomorrow we will start blasting out some of the larger rocks so we may begin clearing our fields. It is so different here than in London, but we are determined to make a new start. Please be sure to let my father know that—”
“That’s all there is,” Will explained. “The only thing my parents left me is that little scrap.”
“You want to find the rest of your family.” She returned the letter to Coffin and he put it away. She leaned back against the side of the fireplace and felt a small touch of the cool marble against her shoulders. “You want to know about where you come from before you determine where you’re going.”
He frowned in contemplation, absently stroking his mustache. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he said slowly, then nodded, “but it makes sense.” He gave a little snort of recognition. “Me comin’ out here to figure myself out. Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m doin’.”
“Probably, you understood that already,” she demurred, “though not knowingly.”
“You sure are quick, Lady Xavier,” he said with admiration. For a long time, he stared at her me, and the only sounds came from the pop of the fire and the ticking chinoiserie clock. His stare was direct, penetrating, more keenly perceptive than she would have liked. But approving, too, that look. He came to stand in front of her, then braced his hands on either side of her. His arms were long, so he did not hover too close, and yet he was close, closer than any man had been to her in years.
“You’re the only person I’ve met who’s been able to figure that out,” he said. “All the guys I know back in Colorado think I’m off my rocker. They think I should just open my own ranch and quit wastin’ time.”
She felt it, too, this thing between them, a small, secret understanding that drew them together. She ought to slip out from under his arms. She ought to tell him to stand back—no gentleman would lean so close to a lady—but she could feel the warmth of his body over hers and she saw the growing interest in his eyes, the bright spark of primitive awareness which found an answer deep in her own belly.
“I think you are
Coffin took a drink of whiskey, and gazed into the fire, contemplative. “Jake left me a note in that safety deposit box. He told me to get out of pushin’ cows while I still had all my fingers and toes. He said I had too much goin’ on upstairs to sit on the back of a horse the rest of my life, and he wanted the money to be a way out.”
“Do you agree with him?”
He shrugged. “A body can’t cowboy forever. I know that. Eventually, a man’s going to wind up dead. And the railroads are makin’ men like me unnecessary. Soon enough, there won’t be any cattle drives any more, and I’ll be just another blowhard sittin’ in the saloon, spinnin’ yarns.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“That’s what brought me out to your lovely country, Lady Xavier,” he said, a smile disappearing under one side of his mustache.
Coffin reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a brittle, blackened piece of paper. It looked to be damaged by fire and years of use. Setting down his glass on the mantle, he carefully unfolded the paper. It astonished her to see him handle something so tenderly and with such care—his hands seemed capable of immense strength, and yet he opened the paper as gently as holding a baby chick.
“Careful, now,” he warned as he handed the paper to her.
Also setting down her glass, she took the sheet and scanned it. It was written with a man’s sure hand, but the ink had browned and faded.
“Dear Mister Hardene,
We have at last settled and the baby is fine. Tomorrow we will start blasting out some of the larger rocks so we may begin clearing our fields. It is so different here than in London, but we are determined to make a new start. Please be sure to let my father know that—”
“That’s all there is,” Will explained. “The only thing my parents left me is that little scrap.”
“You want to find the rest of your family.” She returned the letter to Coffin and he put it away. She leaned back against the side of the fireplace and felt a small touch of the cool marble against her shoulders. “You want to know about where you come from before you determine where you’re going.”
He frowned in contemplation, absently stroking his mustache. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he said slowly, then nodded, “but it makes sense.” He gave a little snort of recognition. “Me comin’ out here to figure myself out. Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m doin’.”
“Probably, you understood that already,” she demurred, “though not knowingly.”
“You sure are quick, Lady Xavier,” he said with admiration. For a long time, he stared at her me, and the only sounds came from the pop of the fire and the ticking chinoiserie clock. His stare was direct, penetrating, more keenly perceptive than she would have liked. But approving, too, that look. He came to stand in front of her, then braced his hands on either side of her. His arms were long, so he did not hover too close, and yet he was close, closer than any man had been to her in years.
“You’re the only person I’ve met who’s been able to figure that out,” he said. “All the guys I know back in Colorado think I’m off my rocker. They think I should just open my own ranch and quit wastin’ time.”
She felt it, too, this thing between them, a small, secret understanding that drew them together. She ought to slip out from under his arms. She ought to tell him to stand back—no gentleman would lean so close to a lady—but she could feel the warmth of his body over hers and she saw the growing interest in his eyes, the bright spark of primitive awareness which found an answer deep in her own belly.
“I think you are
Similar Books
