"We'll need more salt, too. I forgot to write it down." Sam Flanagan
slid the list across the table to her employer.
"Are you sure that's going to be enough?" Elliott Marston examined the paper and calculated amounts and numbers. For some time the scratching of his pen was the only sound in the room.
Sam propped her chin on her hands and watched him. She liked the way his hair flopped into his eyes when he leaned forward in concentration. He was too intent on his work to notice. Her fingers itched to brush it away.
The past two weeks had been wonderful. They had spent several hours together every day, discussing the business of the ranch and the pending quarterly visit to town for more supplies. He seemed to go out of his way to seek her opinion about a wide variety of matters.
Marston continued to scribble on the list. Sam frowned. The fact that she enjoyed being with him didn't stop her from questioning his behavior. It didn't seem likely that a rancher with so many responsibilities could spend so much time with her.
"Well, I think that just about covers it." He sat back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. "If you can't think of anything else you need."
She hesitated, turning over a half-formed idea in her mind. It seemed like an innocuous request but he might not see it that way. Also she was not sure she wanted to share such private knowledge with him. She shivered suddenly, as another thought struck her: he might be put in danger if he knew too much.
Unfortunately he was watching her very closely. He reached across the table to take up her hand. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" She forced herself to smile, knowing at the same time that her voice was too shrill to fool him.
"Now, now. This is your boss you're talking to, young lady." He scowled at her with mock severity. "Come on, tell me what's wrong." He rose and walked around the end of the table, still holding her hand. When he reached her side he took the other one and pulled her to her feet.
"You're going to tell me what's bothering you right now." He backed away from the table and out into the hall, holding her hands in a firm grip. She allowed herself to be led, smiling and gently tugging to free herself.
He pulled her into the little-used back parlor, little more than an enclave when the double doors to the larger parlor were open but a snug retreat when they were closed. With a sudden sharp movement he swung her into a wing chair and turned to shut the doors. They were plunged into twilit gloom.
Blinking rapidly, she clutched the arms of the chair with her fingers, then clasped them tightly on her lap. She stared up at him as he pushed an ottoman in front of her chair and sat on it. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, as she sat as far back as she could. She was trapped.
"Now then, my dear." He smiled at her warmly as he once more took possession of her hands. "Isn't this cozy? Just the two of us, having a chat."
"Yes, sir." It seemed a safe answer.
"I thought we agreed that we could be more informal when we we're alone. Call me Elliott." He lifted her hands in his and examined her fingers as if he had never seen such appendages before.
"Yes, Elliott."
"Why did you look so distressed back there, Sam? Whatever it is I can fix it for you." He began to caress her fingers with his thumbs, stroking back and forth.
The urge to share her burden with someone else was suddenly stronger than ever. It was ridiculous, he couldn't help her at all but not in years had she met anyone whose strength she trusted more.
"Is it about your father?" He gazed into her eyes. "You've never really talked about him since the night you arrived. I know you said he was being cared for by friends but even so I'm sure it must be worrisome for you."
A shuddering sigh escaped her. "It's just that.the money you've paid me.if I could get it to our.friends.I would feel so much better." She cursed silently at the muddled phrases. Trying to keep things secret would mean having to reveal even more if she wasn't careful.
"Well, I could deliver it to them when I'm in Fremantle if you give me the address." He added squeezing to the treatment he was giving her fingers. She shifted in her chair and tried to concentrate. "But I have a better idea."
He lifted her hands higher and kissed the first knuckle of her hand. "Why don't -" He kissed the next knuckle. "- you come - " Another kiss "- along to - " Again. "- Fremantle - " He had reached her other hand now. " - with me?" He covered the second hand with rapid little kisses. "You can deliver it yourself and see that your father is well."
She stared. Her eyes filled with tears. She tore her hands free and threw her arms around his neck. He rose with fluid grace, pulling her up with him and securing his arms around her waist.
"YES! Oh, yes!" She was laughing and trying not to cry at the same time. The oppressive weight on her mind had dissolved in a moment. "How can I ever thank you?"
He pulled her closer. She went willingly. "I'll let you know." He dropped a kiss on her nose. "Sooner rather than later, my dear."
"Are you sure that's going to be enough?" Elliott Marston examined the paper and calculated amounts and numbers. For some time the scratching of his pen was the only sound in the room.
Sam propped her chin on her hands and watched him. She liked the way his hair flopped into his eyes when he leaned forward in concentration. He was too intent on his work to notice. Her fingers itched to brush it away.
The past two weeks had been wonderful. They had spent several hours together every day, discussing the business of the ranch and the pending quarterly visit to town for more supplies. He seemed to go out of his way to seek her opinion about a wide variety of matters.
Marston continued to scribble on the list. Sam frowned. The fact that she enjoyed being with him didn't stop her from questioning his behavior. It didn't seem likely that a rancher with so many responsibilities could spend so much time with her.
"Well, I think that just about covers it." He sat back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. "If you can't think of anything else you need."
She hesitated, turning over a half-formed idea in her mind. It seemed like an innocuous request but he might not see it that way. Also she was not sure she wanted to share such private knowledge with him. She shivered suddenly, as another thought struck her: he might be put in danger if he knew too much.
Unfortunately he was watching her very closely. He reached across the table to take up her hand. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" She forced herself to smile, knowing at the same time that her voice was too shrill to fool him.
"Now, now. This is your boss you're talking to, young lady." He scowled at her with mock severity. "Come on, tell me what's wrong." He rose and walked around the end of the table, still holding her hand. When he reached her side he took the other one and pulled her to her feet.
"You're going to tell me what's bothering you right now." He backed away from the table and out into the hall, holding her hands in a firm grip. She allowed herself to be led, smiling and gently tugging to free herself.
He pulled her into the little-used back parlor, little more than an enclave when the double doors to the larger parlor were open but a snug retreat when they were closed. With a sudden sharp movement he swung her into a wing chair and turned to shut the doors. They were plunged into twilit gloom.
Blinking rapidly, she clutched the arms of the chair with her fingers, then clasped them tightly on her lap. She stared up at him as he pushed an ottoman in front of her chair and sat on it. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, as she sat as far back as she could. She was trapped.
"Now then, my dear." He smiled at her warmly as he once more took possession of her hands. "Isn't this cozy? Just the two of us, having a chat."
"Yes, sir." It seemed a safe answer.
"I thought we agreed that we could be more informal when we we're alone. Call me Elliott." He lifted her hands in his and examined her fingers as if he had never seen such appendages before.
"Yes, Elliott."
"Why did you look so distressed back there, Sam? Whatever it is I can fix it for you." He began to caress her fingers with his thumbs, stroking back and forth.
The urge to share her burden with someone else was suddenly stronger than ever. It was ridiculous, he couldn't help her at all but not in years had she met anyone whose strength she trusted more.
"Is it about your father?" He gazed into her eyes. "You've never really talked about him since the night you arrived. I know you said he was being cared for by friends but even so I'm sure it must be worrisome for you."
A shuddering sigh escaped her. "It's just that.the money you've paid me.if I could get it to our.friends.I would feel so much better." She cursed silently at the muddled phrases. Trying to keep things secret would mean having to reveal even more if she wasn't careful.
"Well, I could deliver it to them when I'm in Fremantle if you give me the address." He added squeezing to the treatment he was giving her fingers. She shifted in her chair and tried to concentrate. "But I have a better idea."
He lifted her hands higher and kissed the first knuckle of her hand. "Why don't -" He kissed the next knuckle. "- you come - " Another kiss "- along to - " Again. "- Fremantle - " He had reached her other hand now. " - with me?" He covered the second hand with rapid little kisses. "You can deliver it yourself and see that your father is well."
She stared. Her eyes filled with tears. She tore her hands free and threw her arms around his neck. He rose with fluid grace, pulling her up with him and securing his arms around her waist.
"YES! Oh, yes!" She was laughing and trying not to cry at the same time. The oppressive weight on her mind had dissolved in a moment. "How can I ever thank you?"
He pulled her closer. She went willingly. "I'll let you know." He dropped a kiss on her nose. "Sooner rather than later, my dear."