Page 39 of Seven Brides for Beau McBride (The McBrides of Montana #3)

Twelve

Beau was in the hotel stable when Ellie ambushed him late that evening. Hurriedly, he closed the book of dance steps. He’d been trying to practice in advance of the Christmas party.

He’d been exasperated when Junebug had first announced her plans.

Not least of all because it was nowhere near Christmas.

He could only assume she was angling for all the cookies and puddings and treats Christmas usually brought.

Not to mention creating an opportunity to throw all her brides into his arms. But once he’d gotten over his initial exasperation, Beau had felt a giddy thrill.

He’d never been to a dance in his life, but he’d been practicing for one for months.

His mind whirled with all the scenes from the books Kit had read them: royal balls and country dances, bunting and crystal and perfumed ladies in satin, the whisper of romance and kisses stolen in secret corners.

May I have this dance? A warm hand slipping into his, another sliding up to rest on the back of his neck as brown eyes stared deep into his.

The hair rose on the back of his neck at the thought of it.

He’d gone all the way up to Buck’s Creek just to retrieve his book of dance steps and had taken to practicing again, whirling an imaginary dance partner around the barn. A partner who more often than not wore braids and nothing but a black and red flannel shirt.

“Diana said she spoke to you?” Ellie had a vinegary tone as she broke into his dance practice.

Beau had been avoiding Ellie since the night of the storm.

It hadn’t been difficult, as she’d been avoiding him too.

He was aware of her avoidance because he was painfully aware of everything about her.

His room at Mrs. Champion’s looked onto her side of the hotel and he could see her little window from where he lay in bed.

Her lantern burned late into the night—he assumed she was reading.

She walked around with a book in her hand half the time.

It was a wonder she didn’t fall down the stairs or walk into a door.

Tonight was the first time she’d spoken to him directly since that night at Abner’s.

That night that he couldn’t get out of his goddamn mind.

Even now, when he looked at her, he wasn’t seeing her dark skirt and white shirt, he was seeing that soft red check flannel, hanging loose against her bare skin, or worse, the wet underwear, totally transparent as it clung to her.

He was seeing the thrust of her small pointy breasts, with their large nipples, and the firm lines of her body.

He could feel the way that body felt against his, the hungry press of her, the taste of her…

Jesus help him.

He was arousing himself just thinking of it. He turned away, so she wouldn’t see. It had been a terrible mistake kissing her. He’d known it at the time. But she’d been so crestfallen when he’d rejected her offer of help. What was he supposed to do? Let her believe she was unkissable?

They’d been stuck at Abner’s for a good couple of hours after he’d stopped kissing her and it had been sheer torture to sit there in guilty silence, not touching her.

He’d been aware of every movement she made, of the uneven catching of her breath, of the rainy-warm scent of her.

The only thing that had kept him from kissing her again was the knowledge that if he did he might not be able to stop.

And she deserved better than being tumbled in a drafty cabin by her friend’s fiancé.

He might be a backwoodsman, but he was still a gentleman.

“Well?” Ellie prodded him, tearing him back from thoughts of the cabin. She didn’t just sound vinegary, he realized. She sounded downright angry.

“Yes, Diana spoke to me.” Beau played with the cover of his book, not brave enough to look at her again.

“And you told her she was being a fool?”

Beau sighed. First Diana, then Junebug, now Ellie.

They were exhausting. “No, I cain’t say that I did,” he told Ellie softly.

He was aware from her stony silence that she didn’t like his answer.

He leaned against Dutch’s stall and rubbed the horse’s nose.

He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a short conversation.

Diana had come rapping at Mrs. Champion’s cottage door that morning, catching him completely by surprise. Her breath had been misting in the cold morning air and she’d left footprints in the frost on the porch. The woods behind her had fewer coppery leaves and more bare branches.

“You can ask me in, even though it’s not proper,” she’d suggested in her usual poised way. “This place doesn’t seem to put much stock in what’s proper anyway.” She’d given him a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage of you.”

He’d led her through to the kitchen and made her some tea, and then they’d sat at the table and had a very long talk. The longest they’d ever had. And Beau found that talking to her wasn’t as difficult as he’d first thought. She was a very frank person, which he appreciated.

“There isn’t a delicate way to say this,” she’d sighed.

“Indelicate will do.” He’d been feeling guilty. That’s always how he felt when he saw her now. Lower than a bug.

“I’m concerned about your lack of experience with women.”

He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d thrown her tea in his face.

She gave him a long moment to absorb her words.

“What’s Junebug said to you now?” he groaned.

“Oh, it’s not Junebug. Well, not only Junebug.

It’s everyone. Everything.” Diana exhaled.

“How do I say this? I practiced and it’s still coming out wrong.

” Diana took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about how you were raised here—not even here, more remote than here—without access to women.

Well, many women.” She cleared her throat and blushed prettily.

He was aware that she was probably thinking about the cathouse over the road.

“I thought I understood it in theory when you wrote about it. But seeing it in practice is something else. It would be one thing if I’d arrived as planned and we’d wed and gone to your home, getting to know each other over time as a husband and wife ought.

” She blushed even more now. “I think then we’d have rather enjoyed getting to know each other.

But this… trying to court, I suppose… with all these other girls competing for your attention… ”

“It’s a circus,” Beau admitted glumly. His little sister had taken something that should have been simple and good and had tangled it right up.

Only… he couldn’t totally blame Junebug.

He’d made that bet too. But back then, it had been conceptual—he hadn’t been imaging the brides as real people.

If he’d imagined Diana and Ellie and all the rest of them, he didn’t think he would have made the bet at all. It seemed cruel. To everyone.

She nodded. “The fact is, I’m not the only girl. Now you have options.”

“Diana—”

“No, let me finish. I’ve given this a lot of thought.” She’d reached out and put her hand on his. “I didn’t come to Bitterroot to compete for you.”

Beau flinched. He should have offered to marry her right then and there.

He could have walked her straight down to the church and had done with it.

But he stayed quiet. Because he’d been doing a lot of thinking too.

It wasn’t right what he’d done that night at Abner’s.

It wasn’t right that he’d flirted with Ellie, and…

He shouldn’t be kissing other women if he was marrying Diana.

But also, what did it mean that he wanted to kiss other women?

Or rather, one other woman. Was it just because he’d been put in that situation with Ellie?

Would he have felt the same way if it had been another woman trapped at Abner’s with him?

If it had been Frances or Mabel or Kate?

Would he be having intrusive fantasies about them now? He didn’t know. And that bothered him.

“Beau.” Diana had given his hand a squeeze. “It’s okay to enjoy attention.”

That hadn’t been what he’d expected her to say.

She was proving to be nothing but surprises.

“It’s nice to be admired, to be flirted with, to have some fun. I’ve spent the last few years surrounded by boys,” she said shyly. “So I’ve had time to work out what I like and don’t like.”

Beau didn’t know what to say to that.

“You need to work out what you like.” She pulled a face. “I mean, I can’t say I’m thrilled to come to this conclusion. But I’d be less thrilled to marry you and then find out I wasn’t what you wanted.”

“You’re perfect,” he told her, and he meant it.

“But am I perfect for you ?” She held up a hand. “No. Don’t answer that. Not yet.”

Beau knew himself well enough to know that he didn’t know the answer yet. Like she said, if she’d been the only one to show up, she probably would have been perfect. But all Junebug’s girls had confused him. And one in particular had really confused him. Excessively.

“We don’t have unlimited time,” Diana continued, “as our two weeks are up in a few days. But I think we should use the time we have…”

“To do what?” He’d been uncertain, not sure what she wanted from him.

“… to let you work things out.”

Beau didn’t even really know what he wanted to work out. That’s how confused he was.

“I think you should open your mind,” she told him. “To each and every one of Junebug’s girls. You should get to know them, have some fun with them, enjoy yourself.” She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

He’d been shocked—but mostly because her words had caused a flare of anticipation. His mind had immediately gone to Ellie and that cabin, and the thought of kissing her again. Beau felt himself loosen. He hadn’t realized how knotted up he’d been.