Romancing The Crown: Leila and Gage. Kathleen Creighton
and vehicles, waiting around in airports; time to tell her more than she probably wanted to know about himself, his home, his life. The truth was, he’d barely spoken to her at all during the trip home—just what was necessary between two strangers sharing the same space, no more. He tried to excuse his behavior now by telling himself it was because they’d both been in a state of shock, that he’d been trying to let her rest…sleep a little, which was hogwash. The reason he hadn’t spoken was because he hadn’t known what to say to her. He still didn’t.
By this time, Leila had turned to Betsy, holding out her hand, face all decked out in dimples. “Hi, you must be—” was as far as she got, though, because just like he’d said she would, Betsy was already hugging the stuffing out of her, cooing to her like one of her little lost puppies.
And no sooner had that thought entered Cade’s head than here they came—Betsy’s mob of adopted mutts, barking and baying and wiggling and whining, falling over themselves and everybody else trying to be the first to slobber all over the newcomer.
In those first chaotic seconds Cade had his hands full, along with Rueben and Betsy, pushing and scolding and grabbing at collars. So he didn’t notice right away that Leila had gone rigid as a post. By the time he did notice, she’d already started backing up, moving stiffly with tiny jerky steps, like a statue trying to walk. She kept backing up until she bumped into Cade’s chest, then tried to back up some more, as if, he thought, she was trying to crawl inside his skin.
His first instinct was to wrap her in his arms and help her to do that any way he could. His heart was kicking like a crazy thing against her back and his skin had gone hot and prickly, as if he’d gotten too close to a fire.
Ignoring all that, he took her gently by her upper arms and moved her a couple of inches away from him, then leaned down to mutter gruffly in her ear. “They won’t bite. They’re just saying hello.”
“Are they…yours?” Her voice was trying hard to be normal.
“Nah—they’re Betsy’s. She picks ’em up here and there. The woman can’t resist a stray.”
“I am sorry.” The tiniest of tremors skated beneath his fingers. “I did not mean to be rude. I am not used to dogs—” she gave a breathless little laugh “—so many at one time.”
Cade murmured, “Don’t worry about it.” His tongue felt thick and his thumbs wanted to stroke circles on the tender muscle hiding underneath the fabric of her jacket.
Meanwhile, Betsy and Rueben had managed to corral the dogs, not as many as they’d seemed, now that they were relatively still—only four, in fact. Somehow or other, Betsy managed to exchange her pair of dogs for Leila, and, cooing and fussing, maneuvered her through the pack and into the house. The front door closed firmly behind the two women, leaving Cade, Rueben and the dogs outside on the porch.
For several seconds the two men just stood there, saying nothing at all. Forgotten, the dogs scattered about their business, looking chastened or pleased with themselves, according to their various natures.
Cade cleared his throat and made a half turn. Rueben touched a hand to the top of his head and then, as if surprised to find it bare, resettled his hat into its customary place. He gave one shoulder a hitch. “Give y’hand with the suitcases?”
“Naw, in a little bit.” Cade started down the steps, Rueben clumping stiff-legged beside him. Cade glanced over at him. “Things go okay while I was gone?”
Rueben hitched his shoulder again. “Sure. No problems.”
At the bottom of the steps, both men turned by unspoken agreement and headed along the side of the house and around back toward the stables. “Suki have her foal yet?” Cade asked.
Rueben shook his head. “Two…maybe three more days.”
“Yeah? How’s she doing?”
“Doin’ good…real good.”
That was as far as conversation went, until they reached the stables.
Cade went to check on Suki first, naturally. She was his best mare—dapple gray with a black mane and tail, charcoal mask and legs, a real beauty—and this would be her first foal. Not that he was worried. If Rueben said she was doing okay, then she was. But he looked her over anyway, because it made him feel good doing it, and he and Rueben discussed her condition and care the way they always did, which was mostly mutters and grunts with the absolute minimum number of actual words. Then he went out to the paddock to look over the rest of his stock—two mares with spring foals and three more pregnant ones due later in the summer.
He was leaning on the fence railing watching the foals trotting around after their dams, fuzzy little brush tails twitching busily at flies, when Rueben came to join him.
“Doin’ real good,” he said.
Cade nodded. He’d been wondering why the sight wasn’t giving his spirits a boost the way it was supposed to.
“So,” said Rueben after a silence, “you got married, huh?”
Cade surprised himself with a hard little nugget of laughter, which he gulped back guiltily. “Yeah…I guess I did.”
“Pretty sudden.”
He didn’t try to stop the laugh this time. “You could say that.”
Rueben mulled that over. “Pretty girl,” he said after awhile, nodding his head in a thoughtful way.
Cade nodded, too. “Yeah…” and he changed the nod to a wondering little shake “…she is that.”
“Seems nice,” said Rueben. He stared hard at the toes of his boots, then kicked at the dirt a couple of times, and finally turned to offer Cade his hand. “Congratulations.”
They shook, and Rueben gave his shoulder a hitch. “I’m gonna go get those suitcases now.” He walked rapidly away in the bowlegged, rump-sprung way older men do when they’ve spent a good part of their lives sitting on the back of a horse.
Cade thought about going to help him, but for some reason didn’t. He stayed where he was, leaning on the fence, watching the foals cavort in the sunshine, smelling the familiar smells of grass and straw and horse manure, feeling the humidity settle around him like a favorite old shirt. This was his world. It was where he belonged. It was good to be home. Home…
And then he thought, What in heaven’s name have I done?
Having suffered through the pain of his parents’ divorce at an age when his own adolescent struggles were just getting underway, he’d come to believe with all his heart and soul that if two people got married it ought to be forever. It was why he’d never been tempted to try it himself—he just didn’t think he had it in him to make that kind of commitment. And here he was, not only had he gone and committed himself, but to a girl ten years younger, from the other side of the world, with whom he had nothing in common with, and barely knew!
He patted his shirt pocket, looking for the comfort of a cheroot, which Betsy wouldn’t let him smoke in the house. Then, remembering they were still packed away in a suitcase, he gazed up into the milky haze and sighed.
It wouldn’t have been so bad, he thought, but…well, it was what Rueben had said. Leila was a very pretty girl—downright beautiful, actually—but more than that, yes, she was nice. Sure, she was a princess, and spoiled and pampered and very, very young. But she had a bright and buoyant spirit. And he’d come to realize, even in the short time he’d known her, that she also had a kind and loving heart. She deserved someone who would love her back, someone who would make her happy. As he was certain he never would.
His chest swelled and tightened, suddenly, with that familiar surge of protective tenderness, and he brought his closed fist down hard on the fence railing. Dammit, he thought, I can’t do this to her. I can’t.
At the time, he remembered, it had seemed to him he’d had no choice.