Wild West Christmas. Lynna Banning
Читать онлайн книгу.
boys be raised by family.
Cody straightened in the chair upon which he knelt. He lowered his fork and lifted his finger.
“Cody, dear, it’s not polite to point.”
“But, Miss Alice, I see Uncle Dillen, and he looks mad.”
* * *
Dillen crossed the hotel’s elegant lobby but found no sign of Alice, so he headed for the dining room. A fussy-looking gent stationed behind a high pedestal swept him with a disapproving look and his face pinched up as if he’d sucked a dill pickle. Dillen glared and the man spun about and vanished behind the swinging door to the kitchen before Dillen could ask him about Alice. He shrugged and searched the room for Alice. He found her an instant later and he paused in the doorway.
She looked right here, in the elegant surroundings. A refined lady seated at a table draped in white linen so bright it hurt his eyes. The sight made him more aware of his worn, faded dungarees and the smell of horse that emanated from his sheepskin jacket. She belonged here, but he sure the hell did not.
The boys sat facing him, heads down over their plates of pie, their legs tucked beneath them so they could reach the table. Alice sat in profile, and he admired her glossy brown hair looped up into a coronet on top of her head. The style revealed the curve of her slender neck. He’d never seen her hair down, but now discovered that he wanted that more than anything he could think of, apart from seeing her as God made her.
She lifted a fine china teacup to her mouth. Her full lips pursed to sip and Dillen’s stomach flipped clean over. His skin went all hot and prickly, and he couldn’t breathe until that tiny cup was seated back on its saucer. The woman was like a mule kick to his gut every time he looked at her.
Cody lifted his head, spotted his uncle and then pointed in Dillen’s direction.
Alice spoke to Cody and then stilled with her tea suspended for a long moment between her mouth and the table. She lowered her cup, then lifted a hand so her elegant fingers danced over the cameo-and-diamond brooch. As he stalked forward, she released the brooch, clenched her napkin upon her lap before pivoting in her seat to face him. These small gestures were the only indication of her disquiet. But he knew her and was not fooled by her elegant posture and fixed smile. Alice was less than happy to see him.
Who could blame her?
She held his gaze, staring directly at him. One thin brow quirked and her shoulders straightened. The wooden smile of welcome remained, a lie. Only this time he wasn’t fooled. He resisted the urge to turn tail. He’d done enough running. Now it was time to settle things, do what was best for the boys. Damn, he felt like such a failure.
Why couldn’t Alice be an ordinary sort of woman?
Why did his sister have to go and die when he was holed up in a winter job? Four months, and then what? He didn’t know. Another cattle drive? Driving horses?
He didn’t want to give his nephews up, but he’d be damned if he’d drag them about from place to place as his father had done with him and Sylvie. Now he was just as rootless as dear old Dad. Children needed a home, and he knew that he couldn’t give them one. He had no business even entertaining the notion of keeping them, yet his heart still ached with the impending loss. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t even know them.
But then he didn’t have to. They were Sylvie’s. That was enough. He thought of his own father and grimaced.
“Can’t do worse than that,” he muttered.
Steeling himself for what must be done, he marched across the long runner that bisected the rows of dining tables. This being neither lunch nor dinner, the room was quiet. He passed only one other customer, a gentleman in a clean brown suit whose hat rested, brim up, in the empty seat beside him.
Momentum carried Dillen forward until he rested a hand on the top of the two chairs occupied by his nephews, but his eyes were still on Alice seated before her china teacup.
“You look just the same as the last time I saw you.”
Her eyes narrowed at the reference. “Do you mean at the station?”
The corners of his mouth tipped down and he could see from the glitter in those green eyes that she knew exactly what he had meant.
“I meant in Omaha on Christmas Eve.”
Perhaps she was recalling the last thing he’d said to her before his departure from Omaha.
I don’t even know you. But it wasn’t her lie that had sent him running. It was the truth, and that was a far different thing.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” she said. “You above all should know that.”
He thought it was this woman, more than appearances, that were deceiving. If only it had not all been a glorious lie. Still, he wouldn’t trade his memories of Alice for the truth.
He became aware of the silence and that someone other than Alice was staring. His nephews sat as still as twin fence posts, watching him with the dark brown eyes of his sister. Without their hats, he could see the wide-set eyes fringed with dark lashes and the familiar wavy hair of the Roach family. The resemblance was so strong that he realized, with a pang of pride, that they could easily be mistaken for his. He’d once hoped to be a father, vowing that unlike his own, he would be kind, supportive and present. Now that fate had given him the opportunity, he would be forced to give them up for their own good.
“How’s the pie?”
Cody nodded. “Fine, sir. Would you like some?” He pushed the half-eaten pastry in Dillen’s direction.
“Cody,” said Alice, “what did we say you should call Mr. Roach?”
“Oh.” Cody rubbed the back of his neck and then said. “Uncle Dillen, would you like some pie?”
His mouth watered as he shook his head. “That’s all right, son. Have at it.”
Colin grinned, showing he had a good deal of piecrust stuck to his cheeks. Alice dipped a lace-trimmed handkerchief into her drinking glass and mopped Colin clean. It was a gesture so maternal it made Dillen’s stomach drop an inch as the longing gripped him hard and low. She just kept surprising him. Why was she here? Was it only the boys?
Why else? You think just because you missed her every waking moment that she missed you?
“May I join you?” asked Dillen.
Alice motioned to the empty seat. He removed his hat and hung it on the spindle on the chair back, then tucked in beside Alice. He settled in the seat, and for just a moment he pretended he was the head of the household and they were all his. He let the fantasy linger a moment longer before letting it die under an avalanche of reality. He didn’t even have the scratch for a haircut, let alone a family.
The waiter arrived and handed Dillen a menu printed on thick cream-colored paper. Every single item on the sheet would have cost him a day’s wages. He set the menu aside and then assessed the empty plates, struck with the sudden fear that he’d have to pay for their meal. The shame of not having the funds to cover one lunch nearly drove him from the table. He actually rose when Alice laid a hand on his forearm.
“Where are you going?”
“I—I...” He had no earthly idea. His brain had stopped working the minute he saw that menu.
Dillen stilled as her fingers splayed over his sleeve, and he wished he’d taken off his coat so he could feel her touch. But it didn’t matter. Just sitting beside her, smelling her delicate perfume, brought it all back, that night, their kiss. Him being fool enough to think he could ever keep a woman as fine as Alice. Her being fool enough to believe her parents would welcome the likes of him to their family. Her hand slipped back to her lap and her cheeks flushed. Was she thinking of how he’d held her? How he’d told her he loved her?
“Is everything all right, Mr. Roach?” she asked.
“Fine,”