Page 28 of Seven Brides for Beau McBride (The McBrides of Montana #3)

“Yeah,” he said, bristling. “ You were the one who told me to compliment her,” he reminded her.

“?‘That’s a lovely dress, Miss Newchurch’ is a compliment. ‘You have fingernails like rocks’ is not. ” Ellie could see she had her work cut out with Beau McBride. He might write a lovely letter, but in person he was hopeless at courting.

“It is a compliment.” He was stubborn about it. “Those little river stones are pretty. You just ain’t seen them to know.”

“Well, neither has Diana!” Oh, he was impossible.

“Well, she said thank you, so I think she understood me. She seemed happy enough when she went off for her walk.”

“But she didn’t go for a walk with you. ”

He went sullenly quiet.

Ellie took pity on him. She’d read that men were often humbled by great beauties—it wasn’t his fault that Diana was intimidatingly beautiful. “If it will help, I can give you topics of conversation I know she enjoys?”

Beau gazed off into the vegetable patch and grunted.

Ellie supposed it was a blow to a man’s pride to realize he was humbled.

She’d be kind to him. “She likes being read to,” she ventured.

“And she very much likes afternoons out in the sun. We worked so hard back in Fall River, we hardly had any time to ourselves, let alone time outdoors. I know she’d love some lazy time in the sun—with you. ”

He took that on board. “She did say that in her letters.”

“A picnic, perhaps?” She considered the autumnal woods. They positively sang with romance.

“Alone with her?” His dark gaze flew back to Ellie and she didn’t miss the barely disguised panic.

“Of course not. That wouldn’t be seemly. You’d need to be chaperoned.”

He made a thoughtful noise. “We often go mushrooming at this time of year. Morgan makes us, so we’ve got a stockpile for winter. Maybe we could do that—all of us, I mean,” he said swiftly. “A day out, with a picnic.”

Ellie’s head filled with visions. Oh yes, this could work.

“You could carry Diana’s basket and look for mushrooms together,” she said.

“It would be so romantic. And an excellent excuse for talking to a girl.” Ellie could picture it in her mind’s eye.

The brassy tones of the autumnal woods, the intimacy of bending to pick mushrooms in secluded thickets…

“You’d have to take her hand, to help her,” Ellie said, growing dreamy.

“And perhaps, by chance, you’d forget to let it go, and hand in hand you’d wander into a private dell… ”

“Where I wouldn’t have to do any talking,” Beau said, with no small measure of satisfaction.

“Of course you would!” Ellie frowned at him.

“No, I’d just kiss her. That seems easier.”

“You can’t just kiss her.”

“Why not? I might get overcome with passion. Women like passion in a man, don’t they?”

Was he teasing her? There was definitely some kind of twinkle about him.

“But you’re throwing away the best bits,” she told him, irritated.

“Ah right, this is your anticipation thing again.”

“It’s not my anticipation thing. It’s a fact of life.

Haste is the enemy of romance, Beau, everyone knows that.

You need to savor things. Every little catching breath, each skipping beat of your heart.

Feel the thrill of walking by her side, the swirling delight of even the most incidental touch.

Imagine the first time you hold her hand…

” Ellie imagined being Diana, walking in the woods through shafts of arboreal sunlight.

In her imagination Beau reached out and captured her hand.

She could feel his long fingers tangling with hers, his warm skin against her palm. She shivered.

“What’s to linger over? It’s a hand.” Beau’s pragmatism stopped her shivers in their tracks.

Oh no, that wouldn’t do. “You’ll never get a wife with that attitude,” she told him, feeling a surge of pity. How much the man was missing!

“If you hadn’t noticed,” Beau said wryly, “getting wives ain’t my problem. I got more’n a man needs.”

He’d never win Diana if he didn’t understand this basic lesson.

“Come here,” Ellie ordered. She would have gone to him, only she was stuck on this silly fence. At least until he left and she could hike her skirts up and un-snag herself.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“I want to show you something.”

“You come here then.”

He knew very well she was stuck, the ass.

“Fine,” she sniffed. “Don’t come here. Don’t get my help with Diana. Don’t learn how to use to anticipation to your advantage. I’m sure Junebug will be more than happy to win the bet.”

Beau gave a long-suffering sigh and slid off the lip of the porch. He had very long legs, she noticed; their graceful strength was well flattered by the tightness of his black trousers. He slouched closer and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Well, I’m here. What did you want to show me?”

She doubted she’d ever get over the effect of his beauty, especially when he was up close like this.

His eyelashes were stupidly long, like thick black paintbrushes, and his lips were, well, luscious was the only word she could think of.

And the scent of him… It was a warm, spicy smell, fresh and smoky all at once.

“Ellie, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” She tore her thoughts away from his heady scent.

“Staring into space.”

“I wasn’t. I was staring at you.”

He quirked an eyebrow and his dark eyes did that unsettling twinkly thing again.

“Don’t get all big-headed,” she warned. “I was only trying to work out what you smell like.”

“What I smell like?” He seemed offended. “I washed this morning. I smell clean.”

“Not that kind of smell. Not a bad smell. You just…” She cleared her throat. She’d been going to say smell good but caught herself. “Smell like something I can’t name.”

“It’s probably just Mrs. Champion’s soap.

” He leaned closer and tilted his head back, exposing his neck, inviting her to have a sniff.

“She has these fancy bars from a catalog. They’re supposed to smell like an English garden.

Although,” he teased, “you could just be noticing my alluring natural musk.”

“English garden,” she blurted, pulling back as far as she could without bending backwards over the paling. She wasn’t about to sniff his neck. His effect was deadly enough without getting that close. “That’s absolutely it. An English garden… right after it’s been fertilized.”

He laughed. “Come on, show me this thing you want to show me, before my family turn up.”

Ellie tucked her book under her arm. “So, holding hands—”

He groaned. “We’re still on that?”

“ Yes. You have to understand anticipation, or you won’t understand courting at all.”

“You know a lot about courting, do you?” He seemed dubious.

“Yes,” Ellie said. She’d certainly read enough books about it. “Now shush and let me show you.”

“You had men flocking all over you back home, then? Courting you senseless?”

Ellie gave him a sour look. “Don’t make fun.” He looked startled. “I know I’m no beauty. You were very clear about me and my ugly dress.” Ellie’s hands clenched into fists.

Beau’s midnight-dark eyes widened and he shook his head. “I never said you were ugly. Just the dress.” He grinned. “I stand by it too. It’s the ugliest dress I’ve ever seen. But you’re fine. Confused badger eyes and all.”

Ellie took a shaky breath and unclenched her fists. She shouldn’t care so much about what he thought, she told herself firmly. “Lesson one of courting: don’t insult a lady’s dress.”

“Oh. Am I courting you, now?”

Ellie turned bright red, and her heart tripped over itself. She went hot and cold—she wasn’t sure if it was with shame, or something else. She wasn’t pretty enough for a man like him. But sometimes, when he looked at her…

Ah, he knotted her all up. Ellie shook her head, trying to dislodge her thoughts. “Of course you’re not courting me,” she said stiffly. “Now will you please concentrate.”

Obediently, he took his thumbs out of his belt and stood there, waiting.

“Pay attention,” she instructed. Her heart was still all out of beat from that courting comment.

It gave another lurch when he met her gaze, and then the silly thing started racing, like she was running up a flight of stairs.

His midnight eyes were curious, but also soft with…

something. Like his scent, it teased at her, just beyond her ability to define.

“Ellie,” he sighed, “you’ve wandered off again.”

“I haven’t.” She yanked herself back. How did he always know? “Stop breaking the moment.”

“There’s a moment?”

“There would be, if you’d just hush and pay attention.

” She forced herself to pay attention too.

She shifted uncomfortably against the palings, which were digging into her something awful.

Her underskirt was all bunched up where it had caught on the sharp point of the low wooden fence.

Beau was standing heart skippingly close and there was nothing she could do about it.

She had to stop being mesmerized by this man, she thought irritably, as she tried to feel behind her for where the skirt was caught.

She was here to help Diana. Her dearest, beloved Diana.

“Now,” she told him firmly, “imagine you’re in the woods. ”

He made a show of turning to look at the woods looming at the back of the little yard. “I’ll do my best,” he drawled.

She took advantage of him looking away to pull at her skirt, but it was no use.

It was still caught fast. “It’s a mellow fall day,” she invented, putting her hand on his chest and trying to push him back a step, “with the ghost of warmth in the buttery sunlight, but the shadows are crisp with the coming chill of winter.”

He seemed amused. She didn’t know why, as it was a perfectly lovely description. But then he looked down at her hand on his chest and she realized he was amused by her struggle to get away from both him and the fence.

“Close your eyes,” she said shortly, snapping her hand back. “It will help you imagine things better.”

He sighed gustily and closed his eyes.

“You’re hunting for mushrooms with Diana by your side.

” Ellie pictured him carrying Diana’s basket for her.

He’d be in these same tight black trousers and crisp shirt, with that herbal, smoky smell about him.

But he’d have a better attitude. “The loamy earth is uneven beneath your feet. She stumbles. You reach for her hand…” As she spoke, Ellie reached for Beau’s hand with her own, moving slowly, so as not to startle him.

He still jumped when her fingers touched his. His eyes flew open.

She frowned at him.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry, you took me by surprise is all.”

“Hush,” she scolded. Then she waited pointedly until he closed his eyes again.

She felt his fingers twitch under the barest touch of her own.

“As you take her hand, you feel the slide of her warm skin against yours.” Ellie slipped her palm against his, caressing his fingers as she intertwined their hands.

She thought she heard his breath catch. She glanced up but his expression was unreadable.

“All your attention is on that one small patch of skin,” she whispered.

His lips parted. Ellie was hypnotized by that full lower lip, by the point of his cupid’s bow. She felt like her hand was on fire.

This was better than any book.

“You feel like a leaf tumbling from the tree,” she whispered, “a slow drifting spiraling through your entire body.” Ellie ran her thumb across the back of his hand. She felt him tremble against her as she gave his hand a long, slow squeeze.

His eyelashes shivered against his cheeks, then his eyes slid open. Ellie felt like someone was squeezing the breath from her as he stared into her eyes. He looked drugged. Languid. But also something else, something hungry.

“Anticipation,” she heard herself whisper.

“Beau! Come get your trunk, you lazy bastard!”

Ellie felt Beau flinch. He yanked his hand away and stumbled back from her. His cheeks flushed.

For a timeless, breathless moment they stared at each other. Distantly, Ellie realized someone was hammering on Mrs. Champion’s front door.

“I better go before Jonah yells the house down,” Beau said huskily. And then he fled.

Ellie pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. The book dropped from under her arm, thudding to the ground. Lord. She might have taught that lesson a little too well.