A Cowboy Christmas. Janette Kenny
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He shook his head and gave another humorless laugh. “Hardly.”
He got to his feet, a muscle drumming in his cheek as he extended a hand to help her up. She took it, feeling his withdrawal even as the warmth of his big hand stole up her arm for that brief moment.
“You’ll hear soon enough,” he said. “I was born and raised in America, not England.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
But it explained so much. The lapses from cultured speech to rough cowboy lingo. So many questions filtered through her thoughts.
Ellie picked up the pie plate and scraped the burnt crust into the pail reserved for scraps, glad to have a few more seconds to gather her thoughts. She sensed there was far more to his story than he’d let on, but she was determined to start off on the right foot with him this time.
“Where do you hail from, Mr. Barclay?” she asked.
Silence answered her. She turned to find him gone.
Perhaps that was for the best.
No matter how attracted she was to Reid Barclay, the simple fact remained he was her employer, and an affianced gentleman. Though he’d certainly not let that deter him from making overtures with her just now.
As Miss Halsey advised in her manual, it was often left up to the lady to establish and maintain proper decorum. That was certainly the case here.
From here on out she’d do her job to the best of her ability, and when she had spare time, she intended to have a nice long chat with her pa.
She’d not do anything as reckless as falling into Reid Barclay’s arms again and proving she was a true wanton at heart. No matter how much she longed to do just that.
Chapter 5
With her first day behind her, and a wedding scheduled to take place a mere week from now, Ellie certainly had her work cut out for her. Thankfully Reid had been content with a breakfast of eggs, bacon and fried potatoes the next morning. The simple fare allowed her to become better acquainted with the banquet range and feed him a meal that wasn’t scorched or undercooked.
The second he left the house, she set her kitchen to rights and then fetched the popcorn popper from the pantry. She dumped a cup of shelled corn in the hopper, slid the wire lid closed, and set it over the hottest part of the stovetop.
As she slid the pan back and forth, Ellie tried to decide on how best to decorate the house. But all she could think about was the way Reid’s mouth had fused to hers. Kissing him in the pantry had been positively stupid. And what had possessed her to eat from his fingers?
Ellie groaned and shook the corn popper a bit faster. She had enough experience to know where a kiss would lead. Yet she’d curled against him and moaned at each heated stroke and bone-melting kiss. Good heavens, she’d acted as wanton as the ancient Roman courtesans she’d read about. She’d been the loose woman she’d instructed young ladies not to be.
He was her employer and she the employee. Never the twain shall join in a compromising situation. Yet she’d done just that.
Well, no more! She was here to spend the holiday with her pa, though that prospect was looking rather dismal at the moment. And she’d given her word that she’d take over Mrs. Leach’s duties in her absence.
She took a critical look at the kitchen. This house wasn’t new by any stretch. The pine floor was weathered in the hall, and there were old scrapes and dings on the wallpaper.
Whoever had built it took care, for it was grander than any house she’d seen in the West. But it clearly lacked a woman’s touch. And not just recently.
She couldn’t see any indication of a woman’s presence anywhere but in the kitchen. And then it was only evident in the floral linens hanging just so, and the single potted plant sitting on the far windowsill.
No, there hadn’t been a woman living here in years—if ever, she thought as the shelled corn began popping in the hopper.
Ellie shifted her thoughts to decorating the house for the holiday wedding. She’d have to ask Reid to cut a tree for her. She’d also need a goodly amount of evergreen boughs. Some pine cones would be nice as well.
When no more corn exploded in the hopper, she carefully slid open the lid and dumped the fluffy, white popped corn into a large bowl. She’d string it and the cranberries later.
For now she needed to find out what all Mrs. Leach had ordered for the occasion. She was pleased by the array of artificial flowers and chenille pom-poms she’d found stored in the pantry.
The scuff of a shoe in the hall snared her attention. She looked up into Hubert’s benign face.
“Is that popping corn I smell?” he asked.
“It is. I just popped some to make string garlands.”
“Ah, pity.” He turned to leave.
“If you want some,” she said on her way into the pantry to fetch the box of decorations, “please, help yourself.”
Surely one older man wouldn’t eat it all. And even if he did, she had a goodly bag left to use for decorations.
Besides, if she was honest with herself, she welcomed the company. She returned with the box just as Hubert took a dish from the cupboard and eased onto the bench nearest the popcorn bowl.
She dug into the items Mrs. Leach had ordered. If she was lucky, there was enough so Ellie could fashion several nice sprays and festoons for the holiday wedding.
“Do you know how long Mr. Barclay has lived here?” she asked Hubert as she plucked another white chenille dove from the box and placed it with the others on the table.
“For nearly fourteen years,” he said. “Mr. Morris had the house built then to his specifications shortly after he purchased the land. He and the lads moved in before winter.”
She continued sorting the decorations in the box as if she wasn’t dying to know how Reid Barclay came to live with a man named Morris. Was he a relative? A friend?
One thing was clear. Hubert had been here too.
“Am I correct to guess you worked for Mr. Morris for quite some time?” she asked.
“Indeed so. I was in his employ for nearly thirty years.” Hubert lifted his chin as if proud he’d worked for one man for so long.
Reid Barclay was either that age or close to it, she suspected. No doubt Hubert could pinpoint Reid’s age.
Ellie bit her lip as curiosity goaded her to ask the older gent to tell her more about his time under Morris’s employ. But she was treading a fine line between congenial conversation between employees and out-and-out snooping on her part.
Annoyance skipped up her limbs. She’d instructed her students many times to exercise patience in all things, but she was having a deuced time applying what she’d preached. In fact, she couldn’t remember when she’d been so bitten by curiosity to the point of shunning good behavior.
So she opted to voice the truth. “I’m afraid I’m totally confused, for I’ve no idea who Mr. Morris or the lads are, or how any of them are related to Mr. Barclay.”
Hubert lifted his droll gaze to her. “It is a bit of a jumble to grasp.” Instead of explaining, he crossed to the range and put on the teakettle. “Would you care for a spot of tea?”
“That would be nice,” she replied, when she really wanted him to tell her more about her enigmatic employer.
“I will admit there were times during my employ when our roles blurred and Mr. Morris was more friend than employer.”
“That’s to be expected when you live with a person for that long,” she said, and wondered what excuse she could drum up that would explain why