The Unexpected Wife. Mary Burton
but to his way of thinking, they’d not come to a satisfactory conclusion. “Damnation.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
Matthias shoved out a sigh, tamping down the anger coiling in his gut. Frank was gone and there was no sense worrying about what couldn’t be fixed. Time to cut his losses. “I’ve a list of supplies,” he said, his tone as matter-of-fact as he could manage.
“Of course. Holden brought in some fresh supplies. A few candies and couple of bolts of a nice thick wool.”
Matthias hoped by the end of the summer when he took his cattle and horses to the railhead there’d be money for a few extras but for now every cent counted. “Just the basics this trip.”
Again, children’s laughter drifted out from behind the curtain. He was surprised the boys hadn’t come running when he’d first spoken. Then he heard a woman’s soft voice speaking to them. This last year the boys gravitated toward women—a sure sign they missed their mother.
For just a moment, he imagined Elise holding the boys, singing to them as she did when they were real little.
But when the curtain opened, it wasn’t Elise but Society Miss who was staring at him.
Disappointment slashed at his heart.
He’d forgotten all about Society Miss.
He nodded his head. “Ma’am.”
She’d gotten rid of that awful hat and changed out of that fancy traveling dress into a simple calico. Her cheeks looked pinker, a sign that she’d picked up some sun yesterday. She’d also unpinned her hair and tied it back at the nape of her neck with a simple ribbon. Her hair was thick, lush and despite a slight curl nearly reached her narrow waist. He imagined it felt like silk.
The smell of roses drifted around him again. His gut tightened and he grew hard. His body was letting him know loud and clear that it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman.
“I’d like you to meet Miss Abigail Smyth from San Francisco,” Mrs. Clements said.
Miss Smyth nodded as a faint blush colored her cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally, Mr. Barrington.”
“Ma’am.”
Miss Smyth smiled. “Things were rather hectic by the wagon yesterday. No time for formal introductions.”
“No, I suppose not.” As much as he liked her feminine scent, he was burning daylight. There was a lot of work to do before the sunset today. “Pleasure meeting you. Thank you for your help with the boys.”
“They’re good children.”
“Yes.”
She looked as if she wanted to say something else. Another time he would have indulged in the conversation. He liked the sound of her voice. But he turned away from her now. He had more important matters on his mind.
“Mrs. Clements, can I talk to you outside?”
Mrs. Clements glanced at Society Miss. “Here’s fine, Matthias.”
He didn’t like airing his business in front of strangers. “I need to talk to you about the boys.”
Mrs. Clements didn’t look interested in stepping outside. “Go ahead.”
“With Frank gone and all, I’m in a bind. I was hoping they could board with you for the summer.”
He heard Miss Smyth’s sharp intake of breath. No doubt, Miss Smyth thought him hardhearted for sending his children away. He couldn’t blame her.
Mrs. Clements’s smile faded to embarrassment. “Before we talk about that, there is another more pressing matter you and I need to discuss.”
“Is there a problem with those renegades again?” he said. So much anger and frustration bunched his muscles now he wouldn’t have minded a fight to work off the heat inside him.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. There’s a matter you and I need to discuss.”
Discuss. Hilda Clements could talk a man’s ears off if given half the chance. He decided to head her off. But before he could answer, Miss Smyth spoke.
“I thought caring for the boys was going to be my job.”
He swung his gaze to meet hers. He was certain that he’d heard wrong. “Ma’am?”
She held his gaze, though he sensed she was nervous. Still she pulled back her shoulders. “I mean, since I am going to be your wife, it only seems right that the children stay with us.”
For a moment, his head swam as if a prizefighter had landed a knockout punch. “My what?”
Mrs. Clements stepped forward, wearing a broad grin that hinted at trouble. “Miss Smyth is the bit of news I was referring to.”
Matthias’s head started to throb. The last thing he needed was a riddle. “What the devil are you talking about, Mrs. Clements?”
The older woman smoothed her hands over her white apron and cleared her throat. “We ordered you a wife. Miss Smyth is your fiancée.”
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