everything,” he said softly. “The two of us could get married.”
Esme gasped. “Married?”
Luke fought to keep from smiling. He stretched out his hands to her. “It would solve everything. It’s a very practical solution. I’ll even pay to have your roof fixed as a wedding present, seeing as you’re penniless.”
He knew there was a good chance she had some money of her own. When he found out how much Simon had in his bank account, he’d tell her about it, but not until he cinched the deal he’d proposed.
“Is this your idea of courting? Aren’t men supposed to recite poetry, give flowers and candy? Something like that?”
“Tell me you’ll have me, and I’ll get the pastor from Honey Creek over here tomorrow. He can marry us.”
Esme stared wide-eyed. “Tomorrow?”
Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. The handwriting was instantly recognizable to Esme, and by the light of the moon she read the letter. Her father offered a reward for news of her whereabouts. She didn’t read every word, just enough to understand that her father had handed Luke the trump card he’d most wanted. Her hand shook as she handed the letter back to him. The look of satisfaction on Luke’s face told her everything she needed to know.
There would be no courtship. No poetry.
He shook his head, feigning sorrow. “Looks like you’re stuck with me. Do you suppose that’s what your Uncle Simon had in mind all along?”
Esme snorted contemptuously. “A marriage arranged from the grave?”
Luke ignored her barb. “You have something to wear?”
“I don’t travel with a wedding gown in case I get strong armed into marriage, Luke.”
He grinned. She was as furious as he imagined she would be, but it couldn’t be helped. Sweet words and romance would have to happen after the ink on the marriage contract was dry. Her father was the one who raised the stakes in this game by writing the letter in the first place. Not that Luke was complaining. He was happy to marry her sooner rather than later, and he needed to close the deal before Randolph’s boys came back to the ranch. Luke could hardly wait to see the looks on their faces when he presented them with his lovely bride. The only thing that would be better would be to see old Randolph’s bloated face when he heard the news.
“Let’s go back inside before those boys eat everything in sight,” Luke said.
Esme turned back to the door, dazed by what had transpired. “Tomorrow?” she asked once more.
“Tomorrow,” Luke said as he opened the front door for her.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered.
Luke laughed. “I’ll assume that means yes, you’ll have me.”
“This is all too fast.” She wandered across the foyer in a daze. Luke drew her to face him. He stroked a finger down her cheek. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burned with intensity.
Esme wondered if he might be preparing to offer a tender word, something to comfort her and ease her frantic thoughts.
“You and me will be fine,” he said. “You still have big eyes for me, like you always did.” He lowered his head to kiss her, but she stopped him by placing her hand on his chest.
She was suddenly aware of tears stinging her eyes, threatening to fall. Her father played her mother like a marionette, always assuring her of his devotion one minute, then using her family money without shame or apology the next. Some of Luke’s tactics were uncomfortably similar to her father’s, yet who better to shield her from her father than the one person who had always looked out for her. She searched his eyes for some sign that this wasn’t a matter of pragmatics. She searched for a sign of affection.
“Tell me you’re not doing this so you can get your hands on Simon’s ranch?”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about your ranch, but this is also good for you.” He gave her a slow grin. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bind. Stuck between your father, the devil you know,
Esme gasped. “Married?”
Luke fought to keep from smiling. He stretched out his hands to her. “It would solve everything. It’s a very practical solution. I’ll even pay to have your roof fixed as a wedding present, seeing as you’re penniless.”
He knew there was a good chance she had some money of her own. When he found out how much Simon had in his bank account, he’d tell her about it, but not until he cinched the deal he’d proposed.
“Is this your idea of courting? Aren’t men supposed to recite poetry, give flowers and candy? Something like that?”
“Tell me you’ll have me, and I’ll get the pastor from Honey Creek over here tomorrow. He can marry us.”
Esme stared wide-eyed. “Tomorrow?”
Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. The handwriting was instantly recognizable to Esme, and by the light of the moon she read the letter. Her father offered a reward for news of her whereabouts. She didn’t read every word, just enough to understand that her father had handed Luke the trump card he’d most wanted. Her hand shook as she handed the letter back to him. The look of satisfaction on Luke’s face told her everything she needed to know.
There would be no courtship. No poetry.
He shook his head, feigning sorrow. “Looks like you’re stuck with me. Do you suppose that’s what your Uncle Simon had in mind all along?”
Esme snorted contemptuously. “A marriage arranged from the grave?”
Luke ignored her barb. “You have something to wear?”
“I don’t travel with a wedding gown in case I get strong armed into marriage, Luke.”
He grinned. She was as furious as he imagined she would be, but it couldn’t be helped. Sweet words and romance would have to happen after the ink on the marriage contract was dry. Her father was the one who raised the stakes in this game by writing the letter in the first place. Not that Luke was complaining. He was happy to marry her sooner rather than later, and he needed to close the deal before Randolph’s boys came back to the ranch. Luke could hardly wait to see the looks on their faces when he presented them with his lovely bride. The only thing that would be better would be to see old Randolph’s bloated face when he heard the news.
“Let’s go back inside before those boys eat everything in sight,” Luke said.
Esme turned back to the door, dazed by what had transpired. “Tomorrow?” she asked once more.
“Tomorrow,” Luke said as he opened the front door for her.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered.
Luke laughed. “I’ll assume that means yes, you’ll have me.”
“This is all too fast.” She wandered across the foyer in a daze. Luke drew her to face him. He stroked a finger down her cheek. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burned with intensity.
Esme wondered if he might be preparing to offer a tender word, something to comfort her and ease her frantic thoughts.
“You and me will be fine,” he said. “You still have big eyes for me, like you always did.” He lowered his head to kiss her, but she stopped him by placing her hand on his chest.
She was suddenly aware of tears stinging her eyes, threatening to fall. Her father played her mother like a marionette, always assuring her of his devotion one minute, then using her family money without shame or apology the next. Some of Luke’s tactics were uncomfortably similar to her father’s, yet who better to shield her from her father than the one person who had always looked out for her. She searched his eyes for some sign that this wasn’t a matter of pragmatics. She searched for a sign of affection.
“Tell me you’re not doing this so you can get your hands on Simon’s ranch?”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about your ranch, but this is also good for you.” He gave her a slow grin. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bind. Stuck between your father, the devil you know,
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