How many times had he dreamed of this? Unable to help himself, Nick dropped his pack and wrapped his arms around her. He’d wanted to do it for months now. The closest he’d come to holding her was when they’d danced. Since she only liked the lively ones, it’d been nothing like this. She smelled so good.
Frances pulled back a little and looked up at him. Something electric, like a static charge, seemed to snap between them, sending Nick’s heart clear up into his throat. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She seemed to soften against him. Could it be?
He looked back at her eyes again, his pulse pounding so hard in his ears he couldn’t hear anything around them. For an instant, he thought he saw what he’d been hoping for all these months. Then it was gone, replaced with confusion and flushing cheeks.
“About time you got back,” she said, her normally teasing voice a little stilted as she stepped back. “We’ve got lots to talk about, so hurry up.”
And the old Frances was back. Dang it.
“Why is Lowell here?” Nick asked, as he picked up his pack again.
“Because he’s pretending to be my beau.” She made such a look of disgust, Nick had to choke back a laugh.
Edgar shot her a martyred expression, but it was tinged with affectionate patience. It made the hair on the back of Nick’s neck stand up. The man was getting too attached to Frances. He’d had ten days to spend in her company and get better acquainted with her—all without Nick there to keep an eye on him. Only a fool would fail to see what a treasure she was.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “Because we need to talk, so you can get a bite to eat while we do.”
“Has something happened to make you not want to talk about this at the Lucky L?” Nick asked.
“Yes.” Frances gave one of her disdainful sniffs, but it didn’t hide the hurt behind it. “They refuse to treat me like an adult and are keeping things from me, so we’re not going to give them the benefits of our findings.”
We. Our.Did the plural include Edgar Lowell?
“It’s a good thing I’m starving then.” Nick took a step toward the hotel. “We’ll have plenty of time to chew the fat while I eat my fill.”
He was grateful Frances hadn’t taken the arm Edgar offered her as they headed across snow-packed Main Street. The slick attorney said something to her Nick couldn’t make out, but she shook her head.
“I already told you that would be out of character for me,” she said, her loud voice drawing the attention of Mrs. Champion, the self-appointed matchmaker lady who appeared to have come to the station to collect one of her mail-order brides. Frances said more softly, “I won’t change myself for anyone.”
Nick smirked. At least she hadn’t changed that about herself, even for a pretend courtship. Frances Lancaster was just fine as she was.
Once they were seated in one of the private rooms, and Nick had ordered a meal and the others coffee and hot chocolate, Frances began to tell him what had happened since he’d left for his sister’s wedding.
“Now the court’s upheld your sisters’ marriages, are they going to go back home to claim their inheritances?” Nick asked.
“Since they’re both expecting, they’re hoping they can get the bank to release the funds without returning to Indianapolis.” Frances put down her mug. “But we need to visit our house there to decide what to keep and what to sell.”
“So, the three of you will have to go back at some point,” Nick said.
She nodded but didn’t say anything, her expression turning thoughtful. He could tell something was bothering her. He’d seen that contemplative look before, usually before she said or did something she thought others wouldn’t approve of. What was she up to?
Nick glanced at Lowell to see if the man knew her well enough to understand the significance of her silence. His expression had turned wary so, evidently, he had. That wasn’t a good thing. It wasn’t until after Nick had accepted a refilling of his cup and the waitress had left again that Frances spoke.
“There are marriage contracts, aren’t there?” she asked Lowell.
“There have been for centuries. The wealthier the couple, the more likely they are to have a marriage contract. Why?”
“Do they hold up in court?” Frances wore her serious face now and not one meant for intimidation. Whatever she was leading up to was important to her.
“Usually, if the lawyer did a decent job in writing it. Both parties would have their attorneys review them and likely recommend changes. They would negotiate back and forth until they both reach a point where they agree or can live with the compromises.”
Whose marriage contract could she be talking about? The food Nick had eaten wasn’t sitting well on his stomach now. Her sisters were both already wed. If Luke had any kind of contract with Judith, it’d likely already be in place what with the wedding so close.
Frances didn’t look at either of them as she said, “I need a husband.”
At the unexpected words, Nick sucked the coffee he’d been about to drink into his lungs.
“I’ll do it,” Nick choked out and then had a fit of coughing. He’d known in an instant why she’d do it; she was tired of waiting for her inheritance. Struggling for breath, his gaze shot to Lowell. If he spoke first, Nick would lose her, so he gasped again, “I’ll do it.”
