Chapter 8
“Lyla—Lyla!”
The voice echoed through her dreams. Who could it be? She was running through a mist, and on the other side of it was the one she had been looking for. Was the speaker ahead of her or behind her? Was she running toward the voice—or running away from it?
“Lyla!”
Startled, she sat up in bed, her heart pounding. For a moment, she thought it had been entirely a product of her dreams, that no one was calling her name at all. But then it drifted through to her again, and she knew that it was coming from outside.
Mystified, she went to the window. The increasingly cold autumn nights meant she no longer kept the window fully open, but the sweet, night-scented air was glorious, and she had not yet been able to bring herself to shut it entirely.
She drew her dressing gown around her as she sat on the window seat and bent her ear to the gap.
“Lyla…”
Sitting up straight, she pushed the windows open wider and leaned out. Her heart hammered in her chest.
He stood there, waiting, arms folded. She could imagine one eyebrow raised, though it was too dark and too far away for her to be sure.
“There you are.”
She found her voice.
“Rhett? What do you want?”
“Come down here, and I’ll tell you.”
The wise course—of course—would have been to tell him to go away and leave her alone. It would have been wiser still to simply not speak to him at all, to simply return to bed, pull the covers over her head, and pretend that none of this had happened. It was all a dream.
And yet, somehow, she found herself creeping downstairs, her nightgown securely wrapped around her and tied at the waist, a heavy shawl over it, warding off the chill of the autumn night.
When she stepped out the kitchen door, she saw his shadow beckoning her from the other side of the chicken coop.
Stephen kept his land spacious and free of trees and brush; the little lean-to that housed the murmuring hens was the only real shelter in sight.
Her heart was pounding louder than ever.
If she didn’t walk away from the house, there was a very real chance that it might wake the rest of the household all on its own.
Her mouth was dry as she whispered his name.
“Rhett…”
There was enough moonlight to illuminate his features, just enough to tell her that the usual teasing light was gone from his face. Instead, there was a sober gravity that was entirely new, coming from him. His arms were still folded, and he cocked his head.
“You’re really going to marry him, then?”
She ran a hand through her wayward hair, sighing.
“I’ve always told you that I was. That’s why I’m here in West Hope to begin with, Rhett.”
“Well, I know that,” he said, his tone almost childish. “But when I heard it was being passed around town that your wedding is the day after tomorrow, it…”
“It is the day after tomorrow, Rhett.” Her lips felt a bit numb, speaking the words. “I will marry Stephen on Friday morning.”
He put a hand to his forehead, staring at her silently for a moment.
“…it suddenly seemed more real,” he finished the sentence she had interrupted, as though he wasn’t sure what else to say. “You’re—you’re sure you want to do this, Lyla?”
Suddenly, she felt entirely fed up with him.
“I don’t see what other choice I’ve got,” she snapped. “I gave him my word, and I’m not about to go back on it simply because some rogue, some ruffian, some—some varmint gives me a wink now and then when we pass each other in town!”
He fell back a step, but she could see that he was beginning to smile.
“That’s the spirited young woman I met in jail,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder what had happened to her.”
“I’m just the same as I’ve always been, Rhett Hammond, thank you very much!”
“Is that a fact? So, you’ve taken over the running of the McDowell household, hmm? I reckon that was tricky, since old Sarah’s been there from when Stephen was practically just a lad.”
“I don’t…”
“And no doubt you had a hand in deciding when to get married, as well. Surely Stephen didn’t suddenly decide that you’d marry in two weeks and then tell you on the same evening he told everyone else in town.”
“Rhett…”
“And what about your future, Lyla? Have you a say in that, too?”
“Rhett, will you let me get a word in edgewise?” He stopped abruptly, and she realized he was breathing as hard as she was. “Thank you,” she snapped. “I—I don’t know what you’re getting at, Rhett Hammond, but perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do!”
“Oh, I know you,” he said, stepping forward again and reaching out to seize her arm.
His grip was gentle but firm. “I know you, Lyla Partridge—I knew you as soon as I saw you. You’re the girl who fights against the world because it hasn’t given her what she deserves.
You don’t care a lick about money; you’d rather marry a poor man than a rich one, but you’ve made your bed and now you’re determined to lie in it.
You’ve realized McDowell is a long-standing bachelor for a reason, but you’ve convinced yourself that you’ll be just fine if you stick to the plan.
You can’t allow yourself to miss New York, the same way that you’ve forced yourself to love West Hope—all because you know that the only person you can rely on is yourself, and if you give way for a moment, the walls will come crashing down.
” He was closer than ever now, and she looked up into his eyes.
“You’re all that and more, Lyla Partridge, and if you marry Stephen McDowell, then you will lose some of that fire and finery because he will make you just like him.
Not bad—but not exactly good, either. You deserve better. You can be more.”
Somehow, she found her tongue.
“You could be more,” she retorted. “Stephen is a good man, and I know he’ll never be a great one—but he does what he can, and it’s useless to expect more than that.
But you, Rhett Hammond—you could be a great man, with your smarts, your kindness, your friendly manners, and your handsome face—and I could love you for it.
But instead—instead, you get thrown in jail for poaching! ”
His teeth flashed white in the moonlight as he grinned.
“I knew you thought I was handsome,” he said.
“Oh, you!”
What else she might have said was lost on his lips as he pulled her forward and swept her into his arms. He had once told her he’d never kiss a woman who was engaged to another man—but on that night, he broke his own word.
She clung to him tightly, guilt overwhelmed by joy, until they heard a noise from the house, the sound of a call and a slamming door, and he let her go.
They stared at each other with wide eyes.
“Someone’s awake,” she whispered.
“Everyone’s awake,” he said.
“Rhett—what will we do?”
He took a deep breath and gave her his old familiar teasing smile.
“Run along, now,” he said. “Go to the back of the house, I reckon you can climb up the trellis if you try.”
“But…”
“You don’t want ‘em to catch you here, do you?”
“No, but Rhett…what will you do?”
He straightened his shoulders.
“Somethin’ pretty stupid, I reckon,” he admitted. “Maybe I’ll get caught for poaching again. Maybe for cattle rustlin’. Anything, Lyla Partridge—so long as I don’t get caught for tryin’ to steal another man’s bride.”
Without waiting to see that she was on her way, he squared his shoulders, lifted his head, and started towards the light.