“Loris is the one who’s dragged her own name in the mud,” Connor’s mother replied in a caustic tone. “She’s got you fooled, son, and I’m not happy about you moving over there and doing for her. She’d better learn to take care of herself right quick. It looks to me like she’s got a lot of years ahead of her, chock-full of regret and—”
“That’s enough. I won’t have you talking about her that way. I don’t want to have hard feelings with you, but I have to do what’s right, and to my way of thinking, taking care of Loris is the right thing to do.”
“Well, don’t let her lead you astray. I know her type. She’ll take advantage if she can.” Her mouth drew down and Connor’s mother looked as though she had aged ten years in the past week. Her hair seemed more gray than brown, and her eyes had lost their sparkle. Having James leave had been hard on her. And now her other son was all packed up and ready to move to a farm on the other side of town.
Connor’s father had given him an ultimatum, announcing that either he stay away from Loris or else not bother coming back home. Connor had accepted the words with a nod, and now he watched as his father stood in the barn door, waiting for his son to make up his mind.
There was no choice to be made. He’d settled that last night when he slept by Loris’s side, curled around her back. He’d made the decision even before that, during those minutes when he’d held her close and felt the desire for her rise within him. Even with all that had happened, he still cared about her. He was too honest to deny it, and too attached to Loris to walk away.
His horse waited patiently, and Connor tossed his saddlebags over the gelding’s hindquarters. His clothing was packed tightly in one, his personal belongings in the other. His extra pair of boots took up a lot of space, but they were too good to leave behind. Anything else he needed could be bought from the general store.
“I’ll be back to get my horses,” he told his father, riding the gelding to where the man stood. “Probably tomorrow.”
“You know which ones belong to you.” The words sounded harsh, but Connor knew that the man who spoke them was deeply hurt by his son leaving, and he could not blame him for his attitude. Maybe someday things would be set to rights.
And maybe not.
“If Hank Carpenter from Turley County comes by to see me, you can tell him I’m at the old Stewart place, the other side of town, next to Benson’s.”
“He wantin’ one of your horses?”
“Either that or he wants me to train one he has already.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks, Pa.” Above all else, his father was an honest man, and if he said he’d send Connor’s new customer to him, he was to be believed. Raising and training horses was Connor’s first choice. But farming ran a close second. Fortunately, they could be combined, so long as he had a barn and some land to plant. Even though it wasn’t going to be the place where he was born and raised that would receive the benefit of his skills and hard work.
Loris met him at the back door, noted the grim set of his jaw, and merely pointed toward the hallway where the stairs climbed to the second floor. He walked past her, carrying his belongings. She watched him go, thinking how much alike they were in this situation. That her clothing consisted of what Connor had bought her, that she’d come almost empty-handed to this place. And now, he’d left home and family and all else that he called his own to stay with her.
“The second door on the right.” She called to him as he reached the hallway.
He turned to look down at her with dark eyes that seemed to see within her, measuring her body and reading her thoughts. “Is it your room? You know I’m planning on staying here a long time, Loris. I’m going to take care of you, and that arrangement starts right now.” His gaze was straightforward, giving her notice of his plans.
She drew in a deep breath, and then shook her head. “No, that’s not my bedroom.”
His eyes narrowed and she thought his knuckles grew white on the bags he held. But his voice was flat and without anger when he spoke again. “Which one is yours?”
“Right across the hall.” She held her breath as he met her gaze for a long minute, and then growled words that did not surprise her.
“Then that’s my room, too.” Turning, he walked through the doorway of the bedroom she’d claimed for herself, and she heard the distinct sound of dresser drawers opening, of his bags hitting the floor, and then the noise of his boots as he walked across the uncarpeted floor.
She was a long way from being upset with him. She’d given him the choice, allowed him the chance to have a room and bed of his own, and he’d turned her down. It was what she’d expected, and though she felt a twinge of unease, her heart sang with the knowledge that he wanted to be with her. Wanted to sleep in her bed…and most of all, he planned on taking his place in this home.
I’m going to take care of you, and that arrangement starts right now.
He’d certainly made that plain enough.
Her lips curved in a secret sort of smile as she returned to the kitchen. She’d put bacon on top of a pan of beans, adding all the ingredients her mother had used for the one-dish meal at home. Onions, tomatoes, brown sugar and a bit of mustard flavored the beans, and the thick slices of bacon made it even more palatable.
“Smells good in here.” Connor came back to the kitchen, hat and coat in hand, then hung them on pegs by the back door. He took warm water from the reservoir on the side of the stove and began to wash up, dousing his face and then using the soap to scrub his hands and arms, all the way up past his elbows. His shirtsleeves were rolled up neatly, and Loris had a hard time keeping her eyes from him.
He walked up behind her as she stirred a small skillet of fried potatoes. “Is that bacon I smell?”
She thought for a moment he’d leaned close enough to kiss her neck, but instead felt the brush of his hands smoothing back her hair and then holding her shoulders in a firm grip.
“Beans and bacon. Just like my mama used to make at home. She’s a good cook.”
“I’d say by the looks of your dog, he thinks you’re not bad, either.” Rusty had been sitting at her side as she worked in the kitchen, as if he delighted in his responsibility. In return she’d managed to find a few bits and pieces to toss his way, and he peered up at her with a foolish look, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, a soft woof stating his pleasure.
“That dog likes you,” Connor said.
“I hope so. At least he seems to think his main job in life is to stick close by.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted him to do,” Connor told her. “Now, how can I help? Maybe set the table?”
“If you want to. I can do it if you’re tired and want to sit down with a cup of coffee.”
“I’d rather help.” He knew his way around a kitchen, she noticed. His hands held the plates and silverware easily, the cup handles riding on his fingers. “Should I wipe off the oilcloth first?”
In answer, she located the dishcloth and rinsed it in clear water, then squeezed it almost dry. A quick toss across the table delivered it to his hand and he grinned his thanks.
Before long Loris had browned the potatoes nicely, the table was cleaned and set, the chairs moved to their proper places, and Connor was back at her side. “When the beans are done, I’ll take them out of the oven for you,” he offered.
“All right.” She was happy to accede to him, preferring to finish off the odds and ends of the meal. “I’ve already sliced bread and I found a jar of applesauce in the pantry. I suspect we’ll have enough to eat.”
Connor heaped