Reynolds’s eyebrows arched toward his hairline.
Her cheeks heated. What a stupid question. Didn’t she have any sense? “Forget it.”
He exhaled and brushed his thumb over the headpiece of the bridle.
She turned to move away.
“If you really want to know, Morning Fawn…” He whispered her given name. “Marriage has nothing to do with bits. And it shouldn’t have anything to do with land. It’s about love and commitment. And choosing to honor God and the other person before yourself.”
She gaped at him as a lake-blue eye met hers. Her stomach wobbled, and so did her knees as his words penetrated her core. “Then why did you come up with the whole marry-for-land scheme?”
“I didn’t. That was your uncle’s doing. My idea was that he give you a horse.” He rubbed his nose. “He thought that was too risky.”
“A horse? You expected me to sign my life away for a horse?”
“No. My suggestion had nothing to do with marriage.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “Your uncle added that part on. I was only trying to save you from the laudanum.”
She blinked at him. “Save me?” As though she was some charity case. He wasn’t interested in marrying her. Why not? Not that she wanted anything to do with him, anyway. But what about all of that sweet talk about giving her the moon? Maybe he’d been drinking that night. Or felt sorry for her and wanted to ease his conscience. “I don’t need your help, Lieutenant.” She clunked the bit against another. Gathering her skirts, she marched for the door. She’d show him and her uncle too.
CHAPTER 11
As Devon watched her go, he scuffed his boot against the worn oak floor, careful to avoid the patch of dried tobacco. He’d thought it’d help matters once he’d dispelled the notion he had concocted a scheme to win her hand. But he should have kept his mouth shut. She wasn’t one to take kindly to someone offering help.
And who was he to talk about marriage?Honor the other person before yourself? He’d gotten that one right, not being there when Isabelle needed him most. His jaw tightened. But he’d told Morning Fawn the truth. Marriage had nothing to do with bits or property or any of a half dozen other things people sold their hearts for.
Isabelle… Their wedding had been the happiest day of his life. Her smile. Her quiet demeanor. She could say more with a look than someone else could with a hundred words. And she’d fit so smoothly in his arms, as if they were two parts of a whole. They’d had their entire lives before them.
He shuddered and slung the bridle he’d been fingering back against the wall.
Morning Fawn didn’t know the first thing about marriage.She was the most noncompliant girl he’d ever met. You’d think a captive would want to be rescued, but obviously, not her. And who was this Moyer fellow? Whether Morning Fawn wanted help or not, Devon wasn’t about to allow her to go throwing herself at some dandy for a piece of land.
He stomped out the door and watched her march down the plank sidewalk toward the mercantile. The way her shoes clomped on the boards and the stiff set of her back, she’d be riled up all the way back to Sweet Briar. Did the girl ever smile?
Her aunt stood in the doorway and quick-stepped to meet her.
Devon turned to finish his errands.
Half an hour later, he met them in front of the bank. The hard set of Morning Fawn’s jaw and glare left no doubt he hadn’t finished paying for his earlier comment.
Mrs. LeBeau handed him a note. “The milliner is finishing up a bonnet I ordered. While we wait, I’d like for you to deliver this invitation to Mr. Nicholas Moyer. Beth and I will have a bite to eat at Miller’s Hotel.”
He stared at the lady. Did she think he was her lackey or something? Giving Morning Fawn a ride to town and running a couple of errands for Mr. LeBeau was one thing—after all, he was working on earning the man’s good graces—but hand delivering notes to the front runner in the wed-for-land scheme was another.
He glanced toward the sky with its fast-moving puffs. The white had given way to heavyset gray. “There’s dark clouds to the north and a cool breeze. I’m willing to bet there’s a storm brewing. I say we have the restaurant pack us up a meal and head back now.”
Mrs. LeBeau pursed her lips. Her rose-print reticule swung from her wrist. “I’m sure an extra hour or so in town wouldn’t hurt, Lieutenant. Besides, I need the new bonnet for church on Sunday. You can take the ferry across the river to Alleyton.You’ll find Mr. Moyer at either the cotton warehouse or the quartermaster’s depot.”
“The cotton station?” Exactly where he needed to be. “Moyer works there?”
“He manages the warehouse.” Morning Fawn narrowed her eyes at him. “But I don’t need an errand boy to deliver my invitation. I can go myself.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” He got the words out two seconds before her aunt did.
Devon hooked his thumbs around his cartridge belt.Errand boy?The same one who’d caught up to her on her stolen Thoroughbred and saved her from wandering the prairie, ill-prepared, hungry, and in danger of attack. “It’s my duty to guard you and bring you home safely.” The woman had probably never made a plan in her life beyond sunset.
“I have no intention of running?—”
“You’ll wait here for the lieutenant.” Mrs. LeBeau tugged her lace cuffs past her wrists.
