Maverick Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) by Stacey Kayne Page B

sheets or had clean clothes in your wardrobe. But I cared. I made sure my girls were taken care of.”
    “Sounds like you enjoyed your job,” Chance said, taking a bowl of fresh greens from her.
    She smiled. Sheer pride lit her eyes. “I loved it.”
    The sincerity in her voice intrigued him. “So, why’d you leave?”
    “Well…” Her smile collapsed, taking the spark from her eyes. “I guess…I was ready for some change.”
    “We’re sure glad you’re here,” said Garret.
    “We certainly are,” Skylar put in. “I’m grateful for all your help. If these babies don’t make an appearance soon, I may become permanently lazy.”
    Suddenly overwhelmed by a staggering sense of loss, Cora couldn’t muster a smile. She lowered her gaze to her plate as her mind flooded with the image of Mr. Grissom’s cold expression and callous gaze. Standing on the front porch of the boardinghouse, her mother’s mercenary had announced his intention to take her home. It hadn’t been a request. She’d been packed up and carted off—no explanation, no time to give notice or goodbyes. And for what?
    To be starved into satin bonds and handed to a drunken laird as though she were nothing more than a bargaining chip in her mother’s reserves.
    Anger twisted through her at the memory of a closet full of beautiful gowns, all fashioned for a woman a third her size. A welcome home gift, her mother had called them. A gift laced with the usual ridicule and insult. A reminder of why she’d been sent away, considered unworthy of a place in society. Lord knew all her cousins fit perfectly into the Tindale debutant mold.
    “Miss Cora?”
    Garret smiled brightly and passed her a basket of bread. She took it but realized she’d lost her appetite as swiftly as she’d lost control of her life. She passed the bread on, telling herself she didn’t need the hassle of letting out her dress seams, but it was her mother’s voice she heard.
    What have you done to yourself, Cora Mae? Honestly, Cora Mae, it’s no wonder you are nearly thirty and unwed.
    She hated the sound of her full name, knowing insults never trailed far behind it. Not that changing her name had done anything to improve her appearance.
    Salina Jameson’s sweetly spoken remarks resurfaced, this time grating over sensitive wounds.
    What does it matter? She’d rather die a spinster than find herself at the mercy of another man.
    Chance took the basket being offered to him and wondered if anyone else had noticed her hesitation to answer his question or the sadness still darkening her eyes as she stared blindly at her plate.
    “You won’t have time to be lazy when those girls get here,” Garret was saying to Skylar.
    “Why do you keep calling them girls?” demanded Tucker.
    Garret shrugged while swallowing a bite of food. “Margarete is predicting girls. She said Josh’d be a boy. And he was.”
    “How’s Zeke?” Chance asked, determined to get his focus off Cora Mae. The mention of their foreman’s wife reminded him he’d forgotten to stop and check on him.
    “Better,” said Skylar. “Cora and I took them some supper. Margarete has her hands full enough trying to keep Zeke in bed and off a horse.”
    Well into his sixties, Zeke was as tough as they came. The beating he’d endured would have taken the starch out of any man.
    “It was good to see him sitting on his porch this morning,” said Duce.
    “He’s still favoring his left leg,” Garret added.
    Duce shook his head and jabbed his fork into a piece of ham. “Not one of those cowards on the Lazy J poked a head out while we tore down that dam.”
    Not surprising . Serving himself a helping of potatoes, Chance caught a glimpse of Cora Mae’s plate. The circle of porcelain was dabbed with hardly enough food to fill a sparrow. He glanced again at her downcast gaze and pale complexion.
    “Are you not feeling well?” he asked in a hushed voice, leaning toward her, not wanting to draw attention from the