Part 10 (1/2)
”I never said you were, sir.”
He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, as if to say he'd read her thoughts and knew she was being disingenuous.
Heat rose in her cheeks.
”Walk with me.” He motioned toward the draw where the chapel was to be built. Gwen fell into step beside him, knowing he shortened his strides to accommodate hers.
”Miss Arlington, my great-grandfather, my grandfather, and my father were all successful men of business, each increasing the family fortunes, each generation building upon the success of the last. My mother's family was likewise blessed. As Providence would have it, I am the heir on both the maternal and paternal sides. And I, in turn, have had my own successes in the business world, although modest by comparison.” He clasped his hands behind his back. ”I don't tell you this to impress you. There have been times when my family's prosperity has seemed more of a curse than a blessing. After all, Jesus himself said it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of G.o.d. I'm ever mindful of that warning.”
Listening to him, Gwen's heart stirred. Other than her father, she rarely encountered men who spoke about their faith outside of church.
Morgan stopped when they reached the draw. His gaze swept over a stand of aspens, leaves applauding in the breeze, a shallow brook bubbling out from beneath the underbrush. ”On paper this resort undoubtedly looks impractical, but sometimes G.o.d requires us to step out in faith. You know” - he glanced at her - ”like the Israelites had to wade into the water before it parted before them.”
Perhaps he wasn't the man she'd thought him when they first met. Perhaps it wouldn't be unwise to let herself like him. Perhaps they could become friends after all.
For a long while they stood there, looking at each other. The sounds of construction faded into the distance, as did the rustle of leaves and the gurgle of the mountain stream. Nothing seemed to exist but the two of them, alone in the late morning sunlight.
Gwen felt her body sway toward him, as if drawn by an invisible cord. Perhaps fearing she was about to fall, Morgan lifted his hands and lightly grasped her by the upper arms. Her heart hammered, blood pulsing in her ears, breath shallow and quick.
”Gwen,” he whispered.
It seemed right to hear her given name on his lips.
”You're so beautiful.”
Those three words were like a splash of cold water on her face, waking her from some hypnotic state. She took a step back, out of his grasp.
”I... I think we should go now, Mr. McKinley.”
He looked as if he might protest, but he didn't. ”Yes, perhaps you're right. We should be on our way. Your father and sister will be looking for your arrival.”
Wordlessly they made their way down the hillside to the motorcar.
THIRTEEN.
Gwen felt a rush of relief when she saw her sister leave the main corral and walk toward the motorcar. The drive down from the construction site had seemed to take forever. That moment of temptation - when she'd nearly leaned into Morgan's embrace - had replayed in her mind again and again. She'd felt out of breath ever since. Even now...
”Gwennie! We weren't expecting to see you arrive this way.” Cleo grinned. ”Howdy, Morgan.”
”Good day, Cleo.” Morgan hopped out and came around the front of the automobile to open the door for Gwen. ”I took your sister up to the resort so she could judge for herself whether it will or won't be good for the community.”
Cleo said, ”I wouldn't mind a look-see myself. Maybe I could ride up there someday and let you show me around too.”
”Anytime you want, Cleo. You're always welcome. Just let me know when.”
Oh, please let's not talk about the resort. Let's not talk about anything that will delay his departure. Let him leave... so I can breathe again. please let's not talk about the resort. Let's not talk about anything that will delay his departure. Let him leave... so I can breathe again.
Gwen stepped down from the car. ”Cleo, would you mind taking me back to town later? I don't want to keep Mr. - ”
Her sister turned toward Morgan. ”I reckon you'll be staying for lunch, won't you?”
”Well, I - ”
”'Course you will. Won't let you go until you eat something.” Cleo linked arms with Gwen and drew her toward the house. ”So tell me how the campaign's going. Has Mr. McKinley thought of backing out yet?” Cleo glanced over her shoulder at Morgan. ”Now would be a good time.”
”I'm not ready to concede as of yet,” he answered.
”Pity.” Cleo laughed. ”It's going to be mighty embarra.s.sing for you, come Election Day.”
As the sisters climbed the steps onto the porch, their father appeared through the front doorway, wiping his hands on a towel. ”There you are, Gwen. I was wondering if you'd make lunch. You're later than usual.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. As he straightened, he looked beyond her shoulder. ”Mr. McKinley, this is a pleasant surprise.”
”Thank you, sir.”
”Joining us for lunch?”
What did her father and sister have against her? Shouldn't they know know she would rather he leave? Leave she would rather he leave? Leave now now!
Morgan answered, ”Cleo was kind enough to invite me. If it isn't too much bother, I'll accept.”
”No bother at all. We like to have company, but don't get much of it. Do we, Cleo?”
”No. Not nearly enough.”
Griff motioned toward the chairs on the porch. ”Make yourselves comfortable. Cookie's got chicken frying in the skillet, and it ought to be about ready. I'll go check on it.”
”I'll go, Dad,” Gwen said. ”You stay and talk to Mr. McKinley.” She hurried into the house before her father could reply.
Once inside, she drew a slow, deep breath and released it. There, that was better. Her equilibrium returned. Her feet stood solidly on the ground. It would take more than a man whispering her name to cause her to forget herself.
”You're so beautiful.” If he d said anything but those words. If he'd seen her, if he'd seen the said anything but those words. If he'd seen her, if he'd seen the real real Gwen, maybe... Gwen, maybe...
No. She shook her head. No, that wouldn't have made any difference. She didn't want to become involved with him. Not with him or any man. Only as a woman alone could she accomplish her goals, live her own life, be free to pursue the paths G.o.d led her down. Hadn't the apostle Paul written that it was better to be single so one was free of entanglements?
She stepped through the door into the large kitchen of the ranch house. Cookie, the irascible man who'd cooked for Griff Arlington's family and ranch hands for the past thirty years, stood at the stove, turning chicken in the skillet. If anyone had ever known his real name, they'd forgotten it by now.
”h.e.l.lo, Cookie. Dad wants to know how long until lunch.”
He looked over his shoulder. His cheeks were flushed, and there was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. ”You're late, girl. Chicken's almost burnt to a crisp.”
”Sorry.” She smiled, knowing he exaggerated. Cookie would never allow food to burn in his kitchen.
”Tell Griff you can set yourselves down at the table. I'll have the grub out in a jiffy.”
”Thank you, Cookie. I'll tell him.”
Morgan couldn't remember when he'd enjoyed a meal more. The fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, and creamed vegetables were delicious. But it was the people seated at the table that made it perfect. Observing the Arlington family's affection and appreciation for one another made him miss his own family more than he had in a long while. Not that he'd ever been as close to his younger sister as Cleo and Gwen were to each other.