Ruling Rachel Read online

  “I know it’s late for a call, but I needed to see you were all right.” His voice was still low, as if to ensure his words didn’t carry through the night to anyone at the main house. A shiver ran through him; he clenched his teeth and tried for control.

  She was touched by his concern, her heart felt larger and tighter in her chest. Only her mother and sister were every disquieted for her.

  “Please, come in. You’ll catch your death, as long as you’ve been out in the weather.” More concerned for his well-being than hers at the moment, she stepped back.

  “Thanks, but I’ll only stay a few.” He banged one boot against the other until he’d gotten the extra snow off each, then he darted in the moment the opening was wide enough for his wide shoulders. “Ah, it’s nice in here.”

  Rachel quickly pushed the door closed and set the latch. She noticed he wasn’t looking around at the décor - Mrs. Tucker had pride in the simple, but nice, furnishings - because Lyle was busy removing his gloves and rubbing his hands together in the warmth of the house.

  “You have to be half frozen. Please come by the fire and get warm.” She pulled her shawl tighter, as she crossed the room to the table before the couch, where she set the lamp down. The table sat before the long wooden couch covered with cushions for comfortable sitting. Beside the fire was a ladderback chair, where Mrs. Tucker liked to do embroidery and the rocker where Mr. Tucker liked a pipe in the evening while he read the scriptures.

  “Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to impose; it’s already been a long day for you.” Lyle held her gaze, but hesitated, as he still stood by the door.

  She offered him a small smile at the bit of the kindness he was always showing her. “Please, I’d like the company for a while.”

  He nodded, then removed his hat and set it on the peg in the wall by the door.

  “Take off your coat too, just to make sure you really warm up by the fire.”

  “Thanks.” He shucked his thick coat and placed it on the next peg. When he turned to walk to her, she noticed the snug way his blue flannel shirt fit across his wide shoulders, it was almost too tight. She wondered if someone made his shirts for him, or if he just grabbed a ready made one out of the bin at the mercantile shop. Even the largest ones there never were made for men so tall with broad shoulders. Her mother had taught both her and Vera how to sew by hand, they’d never been able to afford one of the fancy new machines like the two Mabel had in her shop for her and her daughters’ use.

  The desire to make a nice comfortable shirt for Lyle made her belly flutter. However, that was something most women did for their beaus or husbands and Lyle as neither to her.

  When Lyle got to the fire, he took a log from the wood bin beside it and set the piece onto the fire, then used the poker, the one she had been determined to use as a weapon, to stoke the fire to a right roaring blaze. Hooking the heavy iron bar back on the side of the hearth, he rose. “I placed Domino in that nice lean-to on the side of the house to give him a little shelter and rest before we set out for home, ifin that’s all right.”

  “Yes. It’s fine. He’s such a fine horse, I hope he’ll be well after such a long night in the cold.”

  “He’s practically bred in the cold. As long as he’s got a space to keep out of it, and those walls are nice and thick and sturdy, he’ll do fine.”

  “Nice to know.” She stood beside him, feeling awkward for more reasons than just the fact she’d never really spent much time alone around men. None had ever spoken to her, except to be polite if they crossed her path, or to hand her something from a high shelf in the mercantile. She knew it wasn’t that she wasn’t commonly pretty, she kept her clothes cleaned and well-tailored, even though they were just basic fabric she’d used to make them, and she always made sure to brush her hair at night and use a night cream to keep her skin blemish free and smooth. However, most men just looked right beyond her to prettier girls like Sophia Reynolds who were willowy, but shaped well in all the right places a man liked to peer at when they thought no one was looking.

  Rachel was none of that. She’d always been thin, no matter how much she ate, and her breast were round, but small. It would make sense for her to wear one of those bustles, like the Widow Lawrence, who had men practically tripping over their feet when she sashayed by, her head held high in confidence. Rachel surmised that she would be able to hold her head up if she could afford such accentuating finery, too. She tucked her hands under her arms and forced those thoughts away, her night had been rough enough without her adding to it with melancholy thoughts.

  “Thank you, again, Mr. Joseph. I’d probably be dead or halfway frozen in the woods if you didn’t come along.”

  “As I said before, no thanks needed, I’m glad I could help.” He rubbed his hands together before he shifted, facing her now, so the heat could reach him on both sides of his body, she was sure. The snow that had been on his pants and boots had melted and dampened his boots or was making a puddle on the floor.

  “I wish there was some way I could repay you.” She didn’t really have much, there was her savings she kept beneath her shifts in her drawer. She’d kept a lot of her salary over the years, in hopes that one day, if she ever married and had a house of her own, she’d be able to afford to purchase some pretty things from one of the catalogs Mrs. Reynolds and Sophia always ordered from. She didn’t desire an elaborate house, decorated with expensive things just to have them, just nice pretty things like a handmade rug or a set of pretty plates for special occasions.

  “There’s no need. Seeing you hale and hearty is good enough.” He stood there for a moment, staring at her. His blue gaze appeared so molten with fire, as he looked from her eyes to her mouth, then back again, that she felt as if the blaze was melting her too. “I should probably get going.” He turned and started for the door.

  “Wait!” she called out, when he was only a couple steps away. “Can I make a request? Not that I should be asking anything more of you, but—”

  “Ask it,” he ordered as he faced her.

  She moved toward him, away from the hearth before she caught fire from the inside out. She licked her lips and swallowed, feeling her mouth going dry suddenly. “Well, I… You see, I’ve been trying to take a bath all night.” When he arched a single brow at her words, she quickly went on. “I mean to say, I’m nervous.” She shrugged. “Because of what happened. I’m in this house alone and I just don’t feel comfortable to undress and all. Usually the Tuckers and their kids are around, busy in the house while I’m in the kitchen with privacy, but I’d know they were still here. But after the two men…”

  Her words faltered. She knew was babbling, but she didn’t know what he was thinking, and it made her nervous. He probably thought something was wrong with her, asking a man to stay in the house while she was naked in a bath. He just stood there, staring down at her, making her feel even more ill at ease. She placed a hand on the back of her neck trying to cool it off. “Look, Lyle, my mother works at a brothel, but I’m not a whore. I just don’t—”

  “Stop, Rachel.” He took her by the shoulders, then squeezed them to halt her speech. “You don’t need to explain why you’re scared tonight. I was there, I know what you went through.” He still held her arms for a moment before he lowered his hands to his sides.

  She missed his touch.

  “For the record, I don’t think you’re a whore because of where your mother works.”

  The heat from his touch seared her hotter through her clothing, than the fire had. Feeling as if her tongue was too big for her mouth, she just nodded.

  “I’ll stay.” His voice was low with that deep rumble that always made her belly quiver and the hair lift on her arms. “Just until you finish with your bath.”

  She sighed and offered him a smile. “Have you had supper yet?”

  “Earlier in the night, it’s why I was in town, at the Drummonds’ getting a bite. I haven’t had a chance to get the supplies I need in my house, and I’d prefer to save the remainder of the lining in my gut, so I don’t eat at the bunkhouse anymore.”

  “You bought a house?” That was news to her. Not that she usually inquired for information that had to do with Lyle Joseph, but if she heard things concerning him or his employer, she bent an ear to it.

  “It came with the foreman position.”

  “That’s right! I recall not too long ago I was in the Russells’ place and Mr. Rand’s cook had mentioned something about her boss having time to settle down with a nice girl, now that he’d given Lyle Joseph the position.”

  The smile on his mouth was lopsided, but even at only half mast, the expression was still captivating. She stared at his lips. After the night she’d had, she shouldn’t be thinking about how it would feel to be kissed by him.

  “I’m happy about it. Worked my as—” He cleared his throat. “Worked hard for it.”

  The sound from him helped to pull her gaze away from his mouth. “I’m sure you did. Anyway, there’s beef stew that I made for my dinner earlier. It’s still warm on the back of the stove. I hadn’t put it away yet, if you still have some space in your stomach. You can eat while I bathe.”

  “That would be nice.”

  She wasn’t sure if he accepted the food because he was hungry or to be nice, but either way, it gave her butterflies to feed him. “Well, sit on down, I’ll get you a bowl.”

  Grabbing the lamp, as he crossed to the straight back chair instead of the rocker, she hustled along to the kitchen. In the kitchen, she glanced over at her bath and was sure the water was lukewarm at best, but she didn’t want to take up much more of his time waiting for the water to heat. She placed the lamp on the four-person kitchen table right before she went to the shelf by the sink for a bowl. She pulled the cas
t iron pot from the back of the stove where it had sat away from one of the two eyes, but still remained warm. After she removed the lid, she picked up the ladle and began scooping the stew with thick gravy, potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery. Most days, even though Mrs. Tucker cooked the meals at the Reynolds’, when she came home, and she and Rachel would prepare a separate meal for the Tucker family. Rachel kept up the same routine, even when Mrs. Tucker was on her time off, just smaller portions.

  She cleared out the rest of the stew from the pot, happy to be serving Lyle. There wasn’t any other circumstance where she would be able to cook for him, so she would enjoy this time. On the counter next to the stove was one roll from the two she’d taken from the ones she made for the Reynolds; it was wrapped in a cloth. She had planned to eat it with peach preserves in the morning, but she would make do with an oat cake.

  She took a moment to pour him a glass of water from the pitcher on the table, then she walked back into the front room with the items. “I hope you like it. It’s nothing special.”

  Lyle rose when she entered the room. “I’m sure it’s good. If you weren’t a good cook, I’m sure Mrs. Tucker wouldn’t have left the Reynolds in your care.”

  Heat rushed into her cheeks at his words. “Probably. If you want to eat by the fire, just take the bowl off the tray.”

  “No, need. I can take it at the couch.” He stepped to her and unburdened her hands as he claimed the tray then set it on the table, and straightened to his full height.

  She stood there, feeling a little bemused with such a domestic setting as food before the evening fire. The fact it was Lyle set her heart to racing and her palms start sweating.

  “You best get to your bath,” he instructed.

  “Oh… yes. Of course.” She stepped back away from him. She felt foolish being caught staring at him. Most likely Lyle, who was doing her a favor, wanted to be on the road as soon as possible and the longer she doddled, the longer until he got home.

  Shuffling around the furniture, she picked up the lamp by its metal handle and carried it into the last open door to get her items. In her room, she went to the narrow wardrobe and pulled out a simple plain calico dress. It was clean and soft to touch because it was so worn. Normally, she would have put on a gown and robe after her bath, but with Lyle there, it would not be appropriate. She also grabbed a drying sheet and soap, then returned to the front room. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

  Lyle was seated at the couch with the bowl in his hands, but he had not started eating yet, he had been staring into the fire. When she spoke, he glanced at her, but remained silent.

  Not having anything else to say, she went into the kitchen. Once there, she lay her items over the back of a chair and set the soap on the table. She went to the stove and took a moment to fill water and coffee grounds into the coffee pot then set it on the eye. She thought it would be nice to offer Lyle some coffee before he went out into the cold night. She dragged the kettle to the second eye to make herself a cup of tea, hoping it would soothe her frayed nerves, both from what had happened to her tonight and Lyle Joseph’s presence.

  When she faced the tub, she took a few deep breaths first before she reached for the shawl and untied it. When she saw the rip, she started to feel nauseous and shaky, her skin was crawling as she remembered their hands on her. She began to strip the items off her body as fast as she could, not wanting them touching her any longer. At twenty-two, she had never been courted, but now her mind was filled with the memory of the two men’s violent mauling, pawing her everywhere. Each piece seemed to hold the horrible scent of the men and she had to shed it. Soon, dress, shift, and ruined bloomers that were practically shreds and had only remained in place because of the cloth ribbons tied at her waist, were in a pile at her feet. She reached for the soap, then got into the water. She sat with her back to the opening of the kitchen and told herself not to think of the man in the other room as she began to scrub firmly at her skin.

  Her skin would squeaky clean by the time she got out.

  Chapter 4

  Lyle had eaten the delicious stew and fluffy roll as slowly as he possibly could. It wasn’t because it was so good and he wanted to savor each bite, he did, but it was because he needed something to occupy himself so that his mind was not conjuring up the images of Rachel’s bare body in the bath. He could hear the splash of the water and thought about how her wet body would glisten in the lamp light. He told himself he was a pathetic cad to think of her that way, after all she had been through that night. He’d never disrespect her by going into the kitchen and peering in on her, so he just left the dishes on the table. However, the pictures in his mind could not be stopped. He thought about if she were his, his wife, he’d place her before the fire and dry her off, slowly. Not with the towel, but his mouth, sipping and licking every droplet.

  Shit. Those thoughts weren’t doing anything to cool his blood and reduce his erection. The beast he was, he’d been semi-erect since he’d pulled her up before him on Domino. The only thing that had kept his dick from being full mast was the cold wind blowing over his face and down the collar of his coat. Now, he could smell the scent of some flower he couldn’t name and coffee. The rich brew should have saturated the house and taken away the floral scent, but his entire body was so tuned to Rachel, that he could still distinguish her scent through anything.

  “You’re a horny ass, Lyle Joseph,” he groaned, then shot to his feet. He walked to the fireplace and set his hands against the mantel as he stared down into the flames. He attempted to decipher the colors in the fire to focus on something other than the naked nymph in the other room.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Concentrating so hard on not thinking about her had worked for a moment, since he hadn’t heard her enter. Turning to face her, he saw her standing at the end of the couch, with a steaming cup in her hands.

  “I brought you coffee. I figured it would finish warming you up.” She gave him a tentative smile.

  He crossed the distance, unable to keep away from her. He slipped his hand under the mug to keep from touching her. Once it was balanced on the center of his palm, he nodded. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He took steps backward to create distance between them again; the sight of her was doing things to him. Made him want what he couldn’t have, not now. Lifting the coffee, he took a deep drink, it was hot, but not so blazing that he scalded his tongue. A testament to Rachel’s job, only an exceptional housekeeper and cook would serve people hot beverages at the correct temperature. A person could lose their jobs for scalding an employer. The upkeep even of this small home and the wonderful stew she’d served him, completed the declaration of her skills.

  “The stew was some of the best I’ve ever had.” He took another drink and felt the heat fill his mouth, then continued down his throat and compete with the heat already in his gut for Rachel.

  “I’m glad you liked it.” She shrugged, her shoulder sort of making a half circle as she swiped her hair over one shoulder.

  She was backlit by the oil lamp still in the kitchen somewhere, running her fingers through her wet, dark hair trying to work out the tangles. Such hair. He’d never seen her hair loose. When she was younger and he’d first seen her, it had been in a thick braid over one of her shoulders. Since then, it had always been up, in a bun at the back of her head. Now, he saw how lovely it was, not too long beyond her shoulders, but, wet now, it was full of big waves. He itched to run his fingers through it the way she was doing now. His gaze moved lower. The fresh dress she wore now was simple, modest, a faded yellow that clung to the slight curves of her body caused by her damp hair. His eyes caressed her from her head to her bare toes that peeked out below the hem. He’d taken note of the swell of her small breast that pushed against the material.