Moyer’s muscles flexed beneath his sleeve. His cologne and lingering cigar residue filled her nostrils. Too much. Like everything about him. Couldn’t the man let her breathe? What she wouldn’t give to be out here alone.
“I’m sorry you had to sit through all of that. I apologize if anything I said brought you pain, my lovely lady.” Moyer placed his gloved hand over hers.
She fought the urge to cringe. “Nothing a walk in the fresh air won’t cure.” Couldn’t he hush with that lovely lady line? EvenMiss LoganorMiss Bethwas preferable to that overwrought polish.
The waning moon, so much smaller here than on the open prairie, lit the nearly barren branches as they strode toward the orchard. If it wasn’t for Reynolds, she’d be far from here, perhaps camped on the Arkansas River for the winter. Gathered around the fire to hear stories. Home. No, not quite home. By now, she’d have become the wife of Stands-His-Ground and perhaps have a baby on her back. For better or worse, Reynolds had saved her from that.
“It must be difficult to sit politely at the same table as the man who stole you from the only home you remember.”
Difficult? Not exactly. Somehow it seemed that dinner would be more palatable with just him…and her.
“You disagree?” Moyer cocked an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “I was thinking that Mr. Reynolds’s presence is no surprise. After all, my uncleisthe one who paid him to kidnap me.”
“It might be hard to believe, but your uncle only wants what he believes is best for you.”
“My uncle doesn’t know anything about me.”
“He knows you remind him of his sister.”
“He said that to you?”
He puffed out his chest. “I arrived early this evening. He and I had a cigar and brandy in his office.”
She rolled her eyes and withdrew her hand. Just like her uncle to discuss her life and affairs with a man who barely qualified as an acquaintance. “Did Lieutenant Reynolds join you?”
He chuckled. “Your uncle doesn’t share his confidences with the help.”
“Lieutenant Reynolds is the one who came up with the marriage-for-land deal.” The half truth gushed out before her better sense could hush it. She clamped her mouth shut and awaited the damage. Too much information for this fox.
“Reynolds’s idea?” He cocked an eyebrow and scrubbed his hand over his jaw.
“Mostly.” So her uncle had informed Moyer about the offer. Probably figured she needed all the help she could get in landing a husband. She clasped her hands in front of her. “My uncle made a couple additions to Lieutenant Reynolds’s suggestion.” She might as well have a deed or a price tag stuck to her forehead.Land for sale. Price equal to one marriage.
Moyer stuck his hand in his pocket. “Reynolds is bolder than I gave him credit for. But of course, he’s overreaching.”
Blast her uncle and her mouth. The man would be working on some plot next. Morning Fawn blew out a breath and stomped ahead. A raccoon scurried off the path and into the bushes.
Moyer caught up to her and took her arm. The watch fob hanging out of his waistcoat pocket jingled. “A lady has to choose carefully.”
“Excuse me?”
The breeze ruffled his tonic-smooth hair. “A lady’s whole life is determined by whom she marries. That one decision sets her course. What family she’ll belong to. Whom she’ll associate with and befriend. Her status and place in the world are all determined by the man she chooses and the weight of his billfold and his amount of acreage.” His voice rang with authority as if he were addressing a row of workers at the cotton warehouse. “You want the right man. Not a dirt farmer or a ruffian who lives from one scouting job to the next. You want someone with the means to give you the life you deserve. Money offers privilege and freedom, freedom to travel, and freedom to buy the dresses you want. Or the horse you love, land, freedom. Wealth is the surest way to security.”
“We’re talking marriage here, not shopping at the local mercantile.” She lifted her chin. “And for your information, Devon Reynolds isn’t a dirt farmer or a ruffian.”
A smirk darkened his face. “So you’re defending him? You prefer a man who throws you over his shoulder and ties you to a horse to a gentleman who treats you like a lady?”
The nerve of the man. Before she knew what she was doing, she slapped him. The smack of her palm to his cheek rang in her ears.
He rubbed his hand across the wounded area, his eyes shooting sparks at her.
A bird took flight from a branch overhead. Wonderful. She’d managed to disturb the whole orchard.
“I’m sorry.” She exhaled. “I shouldn’t have done that.”Even if you deserved it.
He straightened. “I beg your pardon, Miss Beth. I was out of line with that last remark.”
