Chapter 4
Hyacinth hadn’t just slammed the door to make a point with Beckett. She’d also done so because she wanted to give Violet and Sterling plenty of warning that she was in the house.
She blew out a frustrated breath.
Beckett Thorpe was going to be the death of her.
How dare he even bring up marrying her? He knew they didn’t get along.
Had he done so to confuse her? To make her reject Mr. Gray’s offer so that, later, he could laugh at her and tell her he’d just been teasing?
She shook her head and pushed away from the door.
No, he’d been serious about his need to have a wife.
She could read him well enough to know that.
She also knew that he’d been making some attempts to meet women over recent months, because she’d overheard Sterling talking about it to Violet.
Sterling only wanted the best for Beckett and for him to find the same kind of happiness that he had.
Did Sterling know about Beckett’s birthday deadline and inheritance?
She guessed he didn’t, or he would have been helping Beckett in his quest to find a wife.
She crossed to the stove and lifted the lid on the chicken soup that had been simmering since early afternoon, when she’d tossed the ingredients into the pot.
After church and the noon meal, she’d been in a hurry to prepare for Mr. Gray’s visit, so she hadn’t spent much time on the meal.
She also didn’t enjoy cooking and did it because she wanted to earn her room and board—and because Violet wasn’t proficient in the kitchen at all.
Violet did better with the upkeep of the house, but often got sidetracked by decorating projects, leaving most of the cleaning to Hyacinth.
Only another month or so until Jo-Jo, the Nobles’ maid, returned and took back over the cooking and cleaning. Then Hyacinth would be truly useless on the ranch, with no way to pay for her keep.
Of course, Violet would never expect her to pay for anything.
However, Hyacinth had no desire to be dependent on Violet, the Nobles, or anyone.
She didn’t want to need anyone and didn’t want anyone to need her.
She’d vowed to be different than her parents, who’d had a strange marriage of dependency.
Father’s gambling problem had caused him to need Mother’s money, and Mother had somehow felt valued because of Father’s need for her money.
Whatever the case, Hyacinth was determined to be married and moved out by the time the Nobles and Jo-Jo returned to the ranch next month. She’d made good progress in courting Mr. Gray, and his comments today about wanting a future with her were promising.
But . . . was he really the right man for her?
“Of course he is,” she whispered into the silence of the kitchen. She couldn’t let Beckett’s criticism of Mr. Gray influence her, because what did Beckett know about what would be good for her?
She swiped up a long wooden spoon and swirled it through the mixture of chicken, broth, carrots, and cabbage.
“Beckett knows nothing.” She spoke firmly. Not to convince herself but because she was irritated at him for interfering where he shouldn’t have. “Beckett doesn’t understand what kind of man I need or who will make me happy. He doesn’t even care about my happiness.”
Did happiness really matter, though? It wasn’t part of her list of qualifications in finding a spouse.
Mr. Gray didn’t exactly make her feel happy or giddy or in love the way Sterling did with Violet.
On the other hand, no one could come close to the intensity of what Sterling and Violet shared.
Their relationship was unique and special, and it would be futile to seek a love like that for herself.
No, she would be satisfied with a man who was kind and polite and sweet—like Mr. Gray. The companionship Mr. Gray was offering would be exactly what she wanted.
But . . . was Beckett right that she might eventually think about having children? Would she one day regret not having a family of her own?
“There are plenty of orphan children who need a home,” she said aloud, almost forgetting Beckett wasn’t there and didn’t need convincing. Some day, if she changed her mind about having children, she would look into adoption.
In the meantime, she would enjoy the life Mr. Gray was offering.
She gave a final nod to her plan, then lifted the spoon to her lips, blew on the soup to cool it, and slurped a taste.
It wasn’t the best meal she’d ever made, but it would suffice for the light fare they usually ate on Sunday evenings.
She would serve the soup with leftover biscuits she’d made a couple of days ago.
She ladled the soup into bowls to give it a moment to cool, then she left the kitchen to search for Violet and Sterling.
“Hello?” she called as she approached the sitting room. “Supper is ready.”
Silence met her.
Most likely, the two were still upstairs in bed.
Hyacinth wasn’t completely ignorant of what went on between a man and woman in the marriage bed. What she didn’t understand was how anyone could spend so much time being physical. Kissing—even once in a while—just didn’t seem fun or enjoyable.
As she walked past the sitting room, movement from inside drew her attention.
Had one of the chickens roamed inside again?
Or a barn cat? Both had happened already this spring, during one of the times she and Violet had left the door open while cleaning but then gotten distracted with rearranging and decorating.
Hyacinth paused and stepped into the room.
In a single glance, she took in a tangle of arms and legs and bodies on the sofa.
Lying side by side, Violet and Sterling held one another.
Sterling was kissing Violet’s neck, and she had her head angled back to give him room.
She was breathing heavily, her expression taut with desire and ecstasy.
Hyacinth had caught the two kissing plenty of times before, but never had she witnessed such intimacy and passion and pleasure.
Violet released a soft moan and lifted a hand to Sterling’s hair, digging her fingers in deep. He, in turn, growled before finding her mouth and capturing it. Violet arched into him, as if she couldn’t quite get enough.
Something fanned to life inside Hyacinth—a strange need to experience that kind of passion for herself, to know what it felt like and to decide if it was something she could or couldn’t live without.
If Sterling and Violet enjoyed each other so much, what if she was giving up too soon on finding the right husband? What if she was settling for Mr. Gray?
As Sterling’s hands slid over Violet’s body, Hyacinth hastily stepped out of the room, knowing she had to give the couple their privacy.
She retraced her steps to the kitchen, and once she closed the door, she leaned back against it and pressed both hands to her cheeks.
They were aflame. In fact, her whole body was aflame.
She needed to test what it was like to kiss a man passionately. How in the world would she investigate such a thing? Would Mr. Gray be open to that next time he came calling?
Hyacinth hadn’t kissed a man before, passionately or otherwise. With all the moving around she’d done with her family over recent years, she’d never stayed long enough in one place to form any relationships with men worth pursuing. Besides, she’d been young and hadn’t been interested.
Now she was more than ready to get married and start a life of her own. The burning question was whether she would be content with a celibate life with Mr. Gray or whether she would like to have an intimate marriage.
Maybe she would never experience the same pleasure Violet had with Sterling. But it was worth investigating, wasn’t it? Especially before she made up her mind to accept Mr. Gray’s proposal.
Through the kitchen window, she could see Beckett at the pump in the yard with his sleeves rolled up, washing his hands as soft snowflakes floated down around him. He’d made quick work of dumping the manure and spreading it over the garden.
He bent, cupped water in his hands, and splashed it over his face. He was facing away from her, giving her a full view of his strong shoulders, broad back, lean backside, and lanky legs.
Even if Beckett was the most annoying man she’d ever met, she could still acknowledge he was handsome. That didn’t mean she was attracted to him, though. Not in the least.
It was hard to believe he was as wealthy as he claimed.
If what he said was true, then he had a whole other life he’d never divulged to anyone in Colorado.
He’d only told her about his situation because he’d hoped she might help him.
As much as she disliked him, she wouldn’t go around telling people his secrets.
Beckett straightened. He’d taken off his hat, and now he combed his wet fingers through his wavy brown hair.
With his other hand, he untucked his shirt and lifted it to wipe the moisture from his face.
As he did so, a large swath of his bare stomach showed, revealing a chiseled abdomen with a ridge of defined muscles that led to his ribs.
The top of his trousers and suspenders hung loosely against more smooth but defined muscles.
What would it feel like to run her hand over his stomach?
A tiny flame ignited low inside her belly. Maybe she would like it.
Should she go out there, kiss Beckett, and decide whether she wanted to have a marriage with physical intimacy? He would be the perfect person for such an evaluation, because they despised each other and there was no chance of either of them making more out of the kiss.
At the very least, it would give her an idea of whether she liked kissing or not.
Yes, that’s what she would do. She would kiss Beckett.
Steeling her shoulders, she made her way through the kitchen. Without giving herself a chance to analyze what she was doing and decide it was foolish, she swung open the door and started across the yard to Beckett.
He still had his shirt up and was drying his neck.
She couldn’t keep from staring at the hard span of his abdomen. It was tanned and defined and practically shouted “touch me.”
She had to ignore that shout. She only needed to kiss him for a few seconds. Then she’d pull away and return to the house.
As he finished and let his shirt fall, he caught sight of her. She knew the second he did, because he froze and locked in on her, the blue of his eyes turning dark and mesmerizing.
She had less than a dozen steps left until she reached him. Should she ask him for permission before she kissed him? Or should she just launch herself on him the way she’d seen Violet do with Sterling?
If she asked him—or even told him—that she was kissing him, what if he objected? But if she took him by surprise, then he’d have no choice but to return the kiss.
As she drew up to him, she didn’t pause.
She snaked both arms around his neck, drew his head down, and lifted her lips to his.
She connected her mouth to his with a fervor that Violet often used.
After all, if Hyacinth was going to do this, she might as well give it everything she had.
There was no sense being halfhearted about it and then always wondering if she’d really experienced what kissing had to offer.
In the next instant, his arms wrapped around her, boxing her in. At the same time, his mouth opened up to her. It was hard and delectable and warm. He moved his lips in rhythm with hers as she pressed in and fused more thoroughly with him.
Before she could decide what to do next, he angled in and took possession of her mouth in such an encompassing manner that her insides quavered with a need that rose from someplace deep inside—a place she hadn’t known existed but that was now pulsing with heat.
Oh, wow. This was incredible. Wonderful. Divine. Instead of satisfying her curiosity, though, the kiss only made her want to keep going, to keep exploring Beckett and to let him explore her.
No wonder Violet and Sterling were always kissing.
It was much more pleasurable than she’d imagined.
If she was honest with herself, the feel of Beckett’s hard, muscular body was much more pleasurable than she’d expected too.
It was probably very different from Mr. Gray’s.
Not that she was criticizing Mr. Gray. But Beckett was used to manual labor every day, with lots of wrangling of steers and other livestock.
Whereas Mr. Gray lived a life of luxury.
She couldn’t imagine Mr. Gray kissing her this way at all, if he even attempted a kiss once in a while. Could she marry the man and miss out on experiencing all of this the rest of her life?
She didn’t know. She would have to take some time to think on the matter.
What she did know was that she had to put an end to the kiss and walk away before she made a fool of herself more than she already had.
She released her hold on Beckett, broke the connection of her mouth with his, then shoved him in the chest so that he stumbled backward. Without a word, she spun and stalked away.
She could feel him watching her, but thankfully, he didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if he teased her about the kiss right now. Not when she was so confused about what to do with her future.
As she reached the wide-open kitchen door, she walked in, closed it, and then fell back against it, her body trembling.
She closed her eyes and tried to draw in a steadying breath.
Somehow, the kiss with Beckett had tilted her whole world upside down, and she’d never be able to turn it upright again.