A Lawman's Christmas_ A McKettricks of Texas Novel - Linda Lael Miller [51]
By then, Dara Rose had put on her cloak, Edrina was wearing her outdoor garb and, together, they maneuvered a sleepy Harriet into her coat and bonnet. Clay whisked the child up into his arms and carried her to the wagon.
A light snowfall was just beginning, and the wind was picking up, so Clay took Dara Rose, the children and Chester back to the house first, saw them inside, and announced quietly that he’d return as soon as he’d dropped off the food at the O’Reilly place and turned in the mules and wagon at the livery.
Dara Rose moved by rote, helping the girls prepare for bed, tucking them in, hearing their prayers.
Harriet asked for the doll again.
Edrina said she was glad to have a new papa, then promised not to forget the old one.
Dara Rose was glad she’d turned down the wick in the kerosene lantern, leaving the room mostly in shadow, because there were tears in her eyes as she told her children good-night and kissed their foreheads.
THE SETTEE IN DARA Rose’s parlor was about a foot shorter than he was, by Clay’s estimation, but he’d slept in less comfortable places in his time, just the same. And Dara Rose had been considerate enough to set out a blanket and a pillow for him.
He smiled just imagining the joshing he’d get if Sawyer and the rest of his McKettrick cousins knew he was spending his wedding night alone, with his feet hanging over one end of a short sofa. He’d be lucky if he didn’t wake up with his spine in the shape of a horseshoe and his toes numb from lack of circulation.
Chester, who’d settled himself nearby on the blanket Clay had brought over from the jailhouse, watched as he sat down on the settee to kick off his boots.
“Believe it or not,” he told the dog, low-voiced, “I got married today.”
Chester offered no comment.
The tumbleweed Christmas tree stood undecorated in a corner of the room, stuck in a bucket of water and looking about as festive as Clay felt, but it had a nice pine scent that reminded him of home.
Because the house was small and he was mindful of the children, Clay decided to sleep in his clothes. He was about to extinguish the lantern and stretch out, as best he could, on that blasted settee, when Dara Rose stepped out of the bedroom.
Her hair was down, tumbling well past her waist, and she wore a long nightgown, covered with a plain flannel wrapper, cinched tight at her middle.
Clay’s heart skipped a couple of beats, though he knew full well she wasn’t there to render an annulment legally and morally impossible.
She stopped, glanced over at the hopeful tumbleweed and then stood a little straighter. This raised her to her full and unremarkable height, but whatever her errand, she sure enough looked like she meant business.
“Either you are an irresponsible man,” Dara Rose said, making it clear how Edrina came by her bold certainty about everything, “or you have more money than you let on. Which is it?”
Clay stood, though he suddenly felt bone-tired, because there was a lady in the room. “I never said I was broke, Mrs. McKettrick,” he replied dryly.
“Don’t call me ‘Mrs. McKettrick’!” Dara Rose immediately responded. “We made an agreement. This is a marriage in name only.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” Clay responded, thinking he’d wait forever for this woman, if that was what he had to do. “But you are legally my wife, and that makes you Mrs. McKettrick.”
She pulled so tight on the cinches of her wrapper then that it was a wonder she didn’t split right in two, like one of those showgirls in a magician’s act. “Why do you keep pointing out that we are married in the eyes of the law?”
Clay was enjoying her discomfort a lot more than was gentlemanly. “Aren’t we?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Yes,” she retorted, setting her hands down hard on her hips now and jutting out her elbows,