McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [50]
“That’s right,” Lorelei said.
Rafe tied his gelding to the back of the wagon and climbed up into the box. He tipped his hat to Lorelei and Melina but was not so affable with Holt.
“Get on your horse, Brother,” he said. “We’re burning daylight.”
Holt looked from Melina to Lorelei, then shook his head, stuck one foot in the stirrup and swung up onto the Appaloosa’s back.
One of these days, he thought with disgust, something was going to go right, and he’d probably pass out from sheer surprise.
LORELEI WATCHED the wagon go, waving halfheartedly to Angelina, who gazed at her sadly over the tailgate. It was her own fault Raul had been hurt, and no one else’s. She should never have allowed him to ride that accursed mule.
“He kissed me,” she said, and stunned herself. Holt hadn’t entered her mind. She’d been thinking of Raul—hadn’t she?
“He surely did,” Melina replied gently. “You wouldn’t happen to have any tea leaves around, would you? I’ve got a powerful yearning for a cup of tea.”
Turning to look at Melina, Lorelei managed a smile. “Me, too,” she said.
They went inside the house, now as tidy as Lorelei and Angelina had been able to make it, and Lorelei took a precious tin of orange pekoe down from the cupboards Raul had fashioned from supply crates. The weather was sweltering, but Lorelei found comfort in the ordinary work of stoking up the fire, and Melina carried the kettle to the stream for water. When she returned, she was carrying Angelina’s discarded fish, six of them, lined up on a stick.
“I couldn’t see leaving them for the critters,” Melina said. “They’ll make a fine supper.”
Lorelei nodded and put the kettle on the stove to boil. Melina laid the fish in a basin and sat down on one of the upturned crates reserved for chairs.
“That was something,” Melina said, resting tender hands on her protruding belly. She was obviously expecting, and Lorelei wondered idly who the father was.
“The way you rode that mule. I think you would have gentled him, if Holt hadn’t gotten in the way like he did.” Wearing a brown homespun skirt and a man’s shirt, she nevertheless had a delicate look, with wide, dark eyes and glossy black hair. There was no wedding band on her finger, Lorelei noted, and blushed slightly.
“Thank you,” she said, and fixed her gaze on the kettle, willing it to boil.
“I guess you’re still thinking about the kiss,” Melina deduced, in an offhand tone of voice.
Lorelei felt her face heat up again, and it had nothing to do with the temperature, high as it was. “I shouldn’t have let him do that,” she confided, almost whispering, and fanned herself ineffectually with one hand.
Melina’s soft laugh cheered her mightily. “It didn’t look to me like Holt gave you much of a choice,” she said. “And you did slap him.”
The tea kettle made a surging sound, and Lorelei got up, measured tea leaves into the plain china pot she’d purchased at the mercantile. The task offered a welcome distraction.
“If Raul is badly hurt, I will never forgive myself,” she said.
“Things like that happen on ranches.”
Lorelei paused in her fussing and lowered her head. “I know,” she said. “But Raul didn’t want to come out here in the first place. Angelina didn’t, either. Now, thanks to me, they’ve lost their employment in my father’s house.”
Melina surprised her by laying a small, light hand on her shoulder. “What will you do, then? Go back to town?”
Lorelei turned, wondering how much Holt had guessed about her life in San Antonio and how much he’d told Melina. “I’ve thought of it once or twice,” she admitted. “But there would be nothing left of my self-respect if I did. Besides, my father wouldn’t let me step over his threshold. He made that very clear.”
“Then I guess you have to make this place pay,” Melina said. “Or marry somebody.”
The kettle came to a boil, much like Lorelei’s feelings, spilling water from the spout onto the hot surface of the stove, making it sizzle. “I have no intention of marrying Holt McKettrick,” she blurted.
There was a brief and eloquent silence.