Page 57 of The Formation of Us
But Cora blabbed and picked sawdust off his shirt as if he were her pet dog.
Boyd shrugged at his brothers as if to say he’d lost his touch. Kyle’s laughter boomed through the building, and his teeth flashed in the light of several lanterns. He was handsome like Duke. And clearly in love with his wife. He slipped his arm around Amelia and placed his palm over her belly as if assuring himself his lady and baby were all right. The gesture was tender and intimate and so loving, Faith wondered if anyone else noticed it.
Evelyn and Radford had, and it seemed to please them. They also exchanged a heated look of love and desire, and it could have broiled the roast pork Evelyn was offering her husband.
Yes, these Grayson men were handsome, lusty creatures. They were cut from the same block of stone. Of course, the Creator had used a finer tool to chisel Evelyn’s husband Radford and his brother Boyd. These two were slimmer in build, with finer features—not more handsome than Duke or Kyle, just more polished. Duke and his brother Kyle were rough-cut, with wider, muscular builds, and slightly rugged features that lent Duke a dangerous edge to his scowl and a heart-stopping intensity when his eyes locked on hers.
Like when he’d kissed her in the bathhouse.
Like now, when he stood across an entire room and caressed her with his gaze.
He wore denim pants and a green cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. A hammer hung from his hip instead of a gun, but she felt power and danger radiating from him nonetheless. He started toward her.
The plank floorboards vibrated beneath the heavy tread of his boots as he crossed the room, and she could barely swallow the piece of pork she’d been chewing. She tried to calm herself and clear the desire that was clouding her thinking. She wanted this man, not just the security he could give her; she’d known for certain when he’d given her that playful wink while they were in the bathhouse. He was a good man, a kind and generous man to bring the lumber and put up her walls for her. But regardless of their heated kissing match in the bathhouse, or the seductive promise in his eyes as he strode toward her on those long, powerful legs, she was going to take him to task for doing all this without consulting her.
He stopped in front of her and dipped his mouth to her ear. “I missed you today,” he said, then boldly nibbled her earlobe with his warm lips.
She melted like grease on a griddle; hot in the center, sizzling on the edges.
He lifted his head and smiled with his eyes. “I suppose you’re going to flay me for this?”
“To pieces,” she said, “just as soon as I get my breath back.”
His chuckle was so intimate, so unforgivably seductive, she couldn’t decide whether to kick him or lean into his hot, hard body and be consumed by his fire.
Chapter 17
The hours and days spun by too fast for Faith to find time to really sit down and talk to Iris. She woke before dawn, worked until dusk in the greenhouse, then spent the evenings feeding Duke’s family and crew.
Duke played seductive games with her while he and the men worked on her house. The Grayson women brought food and a neighborly friendship Faith had never known. The ladies society delivered curtains, and one woman donated parlor furniture she was replacing. Another woman donated paint and rolls of wallpaper from her husband’s store. Several women had received complimentary massages from Faith and her aunts, and were happy to contribute what they could to make Faith’s house a home.
Faith stood in her makeshift kitchen, proudly dishing up a hearty beef stew she’d made for supper. The meal had diminished her meager earnings but contributed to her pride. Claire and Anna brought three warm loaves of bread and two blueberry pies to complete the meal.
Faith handed a bowl of stew to Claire, who carried it to her husband. Intrigued by their relationship, Faith lowered the ladle in the pot and watched them. Claire Grayson playfully lifted a spoonful of stew to her husband’s gorgeous mouth. Boyd devoured her with his eyes as he accepted her offering, and Faith could see that he didn’t just lust after his beautiful wife, he loved her deeply and passionately, and didn’t care who could see it. Radford and Kyle were the same way with their wives.
Faith’s life had provided endless examples of lust, but not one example of love, so when Claire returned to the kitchen Faith longed to ask her what marriage was like. But she also feared the question might be too personal, and that asking would reveal too much about herself.
Dahlia placed a stack of pie plates on the counter next to Claire. “How can you breathe with your husband’s gaze gobbling you up like a dish of cream?” she asked.
Claire smiled. “I gave up breathing the moment I met him.”
“You mean after you shot his window out,” Anna commented with a soft laugh. The woman’s shy, hesitant manner made Faith feel protective of her. She seemed afraid to relax, as if she was always waiting and watching for some unseen danger.
“Is that true?” Dahlia asked.
“I’m afraid so. Boyd owned a noisy tavern across the street from my boarding house, which we now live in,” Claire said. “His wretched saloon was ruining my business, so I dragged my grandmother’s revolver outside in hopes of convincing him to shut the place down. I accidentally shot out his window.”
“And when that didn’t work,” Anna added, “she led a band of temperance women against him.”
Dahlia lifted her water glass in a toast. “I’d be proud to call you my sister.”
Claire’s smile faded. “It was a bad idea, Dahlia. I wanted to protect my business, and stop men from beating their wives and children, but I caused more harm than good. Men lost their jobs, Boyd’s beautiful bar was destroyed, and three men got shot. Duke was forced to kill a man because of my marches.”
An icy feeling rushed through Faith. Duke was the sheriff. It shouldn’t have surprised her that his job had forced him to kill a man. But it unnerved her to know he’d taken a life, and terrified her that he might be forced to face his own death in the line of duty. He was rock solid, though, and she could depend on him to make the hard choice if he ever faced Judge Stone.
“Men who beat women should be castrated,” Dahlia said. “I commend you for facing down those men, and I’d gladly join your marches if you were still doing it.”
“The temperance union still marches, Dahlia, but Anna and I believe it’s more helpful for us to offer a woman and her children a safe place to stay until she can make more suitable living arrangements.”
