A SEAL's Oath (SEALs of Chance Creek Book 1) (7 page)

She headed for the door, but stopped for a moment to take in the fact that she was really here. She couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning in this beautiful room. It faced the rear of the house. From this direction she would be able to see a long way in the daylight, including most of the outbuildings on the ranch and the pastures beyond them situated a fair distance away. That distance between the house and the barns was one of the more impractical aspects of the ranch, but the Eaton who built Westfield obviously still longed for the England he’d left behind. The family legend said he’d come to America in the second half of the 1800s because he saw little chance of improving his fortune in England. He’d ventured west, taken in the possibilities of Montana, and settled down right here. He must have done well for himself to build a house like this one. Riley surveyed her new room with satisfaction. It was so peaceful here at Westfield. So serene and beautiful.

Avery, whose front bedroom shared a wall with hers, knocked on her door. “I need help.” She, too, was dressed only in her stockings and chemise. Her stays dangled from her hand.

“Me, too.” Riley let her in and they took turns helping each other into the unfamiliar items of clothing. Once they were corseted, they each pulled their gowns over their heads, then did up each other’s fastenings. “How do I look?” Riley asked Avery when they were both finished.

“Beautiful. I mean it, Riley; you’re absolutely stunning. How about me?”

“Ten years younger for a start.”

It was true, Riley thought as they both faced the old-fashioned mirror that stood in one corner of her room. While the dresses emphasized their womanly attributes, there was something about their old-fashioned cut that was downright innocent. She’d gladly let the past few years fall away, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about how
female
the dresses were. At the office she’d dressed to emphasize her professionalism. There was nothing professional about the way she looked now.

“It might have been better if we’d worn our work dresses.”

Riley knew what Avery meant, but she’d known instinctively that none of the women would choose them for this occasion, even if they were lighting a fire outdoors. She was right. When they all met up downstairs again, all four of them had chosen pretty dresses more suitable for playing piano or painting watercolors than lighting fires.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Avery warned. “Remember what we said about replacing these.”

They’d agreed to keep to the kind of budget that would have maintained a family that was upper class but not overly rich in Jane Austen’s time. The idea was that the kind of economy practised by Jane herself would keep them from spending too much of their savings. They needed money left over when their six months were up.

As darkness settled over Westfield, Riley carefully built up a fire in the outdoor fireplace positioned in one of the formal gardens to the side of the house and stood back when the flames caught. “Ready?” She lifted the bundle of clothing she’d worn when she arrived.

“I’m ready,” Savannah said happily.

“Me, too.” Avery held out her bundle as well.

“I guess so,” Nora sighed. They tossed their modern clothing onto the fire. For a moment Riley was afraid they’d smothered the flames and the fire had gone out. She worried what the bad omen might mean for their project, but before she could overthink it, flames began to lick the edges of their clothes and soon they all had to step back as the fire surged into a blaze.

“Do we have water handy?” Nora asked.

“Yes, but the fire is already subsiding,” Savannah said.

Riley was relieved. She looked around the circle of her friends over the flames. “We’re really doing this.”

“We are,” Savannah said.

“We’re crazy, but we are,” Nora said, shaking her head.

“There’s no going back now,” Avery agreed.

A glow of pride filled Riley—they’d pulled this off. They’d actually quit their unfulfilling jobs and embarked on an adventure. She was filled with love for the friends who were going to help her live out a fantasy she’d always held dear. Why should life be hard and ugly and filled with plastic trash? Why couldn’t it contain long walks, good literature, excellent conversation and—

“Hey!”

All of them jumped as a male voice pierced the air. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

“Who is that?” Avery asked. She peered into the darkness. Riley did too but she couldn’t see anything past the glow of the flames.

When a man finally appeared at the edge of the circle of firelight, Riley’s breath caught in her throat. He was tall, his broad shoulders straining a T-shirt across a muscled chest, his jeans encasing long legs that covered the ground in powerful strides. There was something aristocratic about the strong lines of his face as he glared at them, shadows and light from the fire playing across his features. Something hotter than hell.

Something… familiar.

“Boone!”

Shock propelled her forward and before she knew it she was running to meet him like she used to when they were teenagers. Boone. Her best friend—

She stumbled to a halt as she came to her senses. Boone hadn’t been her friend at the end. He’d watched Melissa humiliate her, and then he’d left town without ever looking back.

“He’d make a fine Mr. Darcy,” she heard Avery murmur behind her.

Avery was right—he would. If she hadn’t known him, she would have been intimidated by his muscular build and aggressive stance. Instead she was filled with a yearning to go to him—to touch him and see if he was real.

“What is this? Who said you could trespass on my property?” Boone demanded.

“Y—your property?” Surprise tore the words from her throat. Riley realized he hadn’t recognized her. “This isn’t your property. It’s my property!” That might not technically be true, but it would have to stand in for a long explanation of the present state of things. Her friends stiffened and exchanged glances. Riley’s throat ached as unbidden memories crowded in on her. Boone represented a time in her life she’d lost forever, and she missed those easy, happy days.

She missed
him
—the Boone who’d been her best friend, her first crush, not the self-absorbed boy who’d turned his back on her.

“Like hell—Riley? What are you doing here?” His voice changed abruptly and his gaze raked her from head to toe, making her all too aware of her Regency gown with its tight bodice and straight skirts. From his vantage point he’d have a spectacular view of her cleavage. She squashed the urge to cover it up.

“I live here.” She grabbed his arm and propelled him away from the fire. She didn’t want to have this awkward reunion with an audience. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Riley? Who is that?” Nora called after her as she led Boone into the shadows.

“Hang on—it’s family business.”

Boone let her move him out of the circle of firelight, still staring down at a point somewhat lower than her chin. “You can’t live here—”

“Of course I can,” Riley said in a low voice. “Uncle Russ said I could.”

He dug in his heels and tugged her to a stop. “I live here now. I’m funded by the Fulsom Foundation. You know—the people who bought the ranch from Russ more than a month ago?”

Riley let go of him and fell back a step. “Bought the ranch—” She fought for comprehension. Bought the ranch? Had Russ… sold it?

Riley opened her mouth. Closed it again. She couldn’t seem to form words. If Boone was telling the truth, then Westfield was gone from her forever. “No. That doesn’t make any sense. Russ said he’d leave it to me. He told me—”

Boone stepped closer, his face a mask of concern. “Like I said, he put the ranch up for sale and the Fulsom Foundation bought it. They gave it to me. Why are you dressed like that? Are you in a play?” His proximity only confused her more.

Bought it…uncle…put it on the market… Riley’s head swam. This couldn’t be happening. “Russ sold Westfield?” she said again. Her bodice was too tight. She couldn’t breathe.

“Didn’t you know?” Boone peered at her with concern. “Riley, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Lightheaded, she put out a hand and Boone took it, steadying her. Riley leaned into his touch, unable to make sense of any of it. How could Russ have sold Westfield without her knowing? Wouldn’t he have told her?

She shut her eyes, realizing how long it had been since he’d written to her at all. His last e-mail had been far more formal than usual, wishing her well but communicating little else. Had he changed his mind about leaving the ranch to her—and been too afraid to admit it?

Riley thought she’d be sick.

How could she survive without Westfield to sustain her? And what about her friends? She’d just convinced them to quit their jobs and upend their lives.

She fought to pull herself together. “Russ promised Westfield to me.”

Boone’s eyes widened. “You have a contract?”

“No.” Of course they didn’t. They were family. “You don’t understand—”

“You’re right; I don’t. Russ put it up for sale and Fulsom bought it fair and square. I figured something had happened to your uncle and he needed the money. How could you not know?”

“He… he didn’t say a word. I sent him a note to let him know I was moving in—” She broke off, horrified at the mistake she’d made by not waiting for an answer, but she’d always used Westfield as she pleased, just like Russ had told her to do. What would she tell her friends?

Boone waited for her to go on. Traces of the teenager she’d known remained, but there were sides to him she could only guess at now. She knew he’d spent nearly thirteen years in the Navy—most of it as a SEAL. She shivered to think what he was capable of. He looked… formidable.

“I was… We were… going to spend six months here.”

He cast his gaze over her Regency clothes. “How do these come into it?” He touched her dress.

Heat flared into her cheeks and she was grateful for the darkness. “You wouldn’t understand. We swore an oath.” She couldn’t put it into words. Not while Boone was staring at her like that, light and shadow from the fire playing over his face. Interest kindled in his eyes at her words. And something more. Something that stirred up old desires she’d sworn were long gone.

“What kind of oath?”

She had to answer him. He owned the land she was standing on. The house she meant to live in. Her legacy. Riley hung her head, unwilling to meet his eye. “That we would leave our lives behind for six months. Quit our jobs, give up our apartments, sell our furniture and get rid of everything that doesn’t belong in a Regency world.”

“Why?”

She finally looked at him. “Because we need a change. We wanted something different, something better. Boone, what do I tell my friends?”

“Jesus, Riley—you’ve gotten yourself in a fix. We’ll have to figure out what to do with you.” He shifted even closer, until even in the low light she could make out all his features. How could he be so familiar and so different all at the same time? Boone’s nearness made it hard to think. Memories swirled in her mind, competing with the facts about her present situation she needed to keep straight.

“We?” She peered into the darkness behind him. Who else was with him?

He smiled for the first time. “The Horsemen will join me soon. We still stick together. We’ll build down near the barns.”

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had taken Westfield from her? Riley didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Or scream. Screaming sounded good right about now. They’d taken her self-respect from her once upon a time, hadn’t they? Why shouldn’t they steal Westfield, too? “Build what?”

It was Boone’s turn to look uncertain. “A community.”

Disbelief reared its head again. “You’re developing Westfield?” Over her dead body.

“No, I’m not developing Westfield. You know me better than that.”

She could breathe again. “Thank God. I guess even you couldn’t go that far.”

A change came over him. “Even me…?”

She didn’t answer his unspoken question. He knew what he’d done. She wouldn’t shower fresh humiliation over herself by confessing how much he’d hurt her when they were young. That was water far under the bridge. Besides, she had to secure her friends a home until they figured out what to do next. Riley stiffened her spine. “Are you using the manor? If not, why can’t we? We’ll pay a fair rent.” If they were able to; they hadn’t figured rent into their budget at all.

“How did you even get into the house?”

“I’ve had a key to Westfield since I was eighteen. Russ told me to use it whenever and however I wished. He liked it when I stayed here—which I’ve done tons of times.” An exaggeration, but he wouldn’t know that.

“So you thought nothing of moving your friends in without his knowledge?”

“I sent him a note, and like I said, he encouraged me to have friends over and stay as long as I wanted. I’m the only one who uses the house.”

Boone studied her for a long moment. “Maybe we can work something out. We both landed here at the same time. That’s a hell of a coincidence.”

“So?” The way he was looking at her made her uneasy. Once she’d known Boone so well. Now she knew so little about him.

“Maybe Fate put us here together.”

Fate? She couldn’t quite make out his expression, but his tone had gone almost… gentle. She hadn’t expected that. “What exactly are you doing here again?”

“We’re trying to build a model sustainable community that can be reproduced throughout the world. Clay, Jericho and Walker will join me shortly and we’ll recruit other like-minded people who want to live lightly on the land.”

Riley’s jaw dropped open. “You’re building a
commune
at Westfield?”

Boone stiffened. Commune
was a word he detested. It reeked of hippies and weed, good intentions gone awry due to megalomania, group sex and apathy. “I’m not building a commune. I’m building a community. There’s a difference.” It was important she understand that. Without meaning to, his gaze fell again to where Riley’s tight bodice strained to hold her breasts in check, breasts that were all too distracting, even in the low, uneven light cast by the distant fire. Her dress was cinched tight with a sash underneath them and a long skirt fell from there straight to the ground, hiding all the rest of her curves. He could guess at them, though, something his body had registered even though his mind was scrambling to keep up with the situation. As much as he’d hoped to see her again, he’d never dreamed he’d find Riley at Westfield. Not after Russ had sold it. He couldn’t believe she had no idea it didn’t belong to her family anymore—or that she’d brought three friends to live here in a house she didn’t own. He didn’t envy her the explanation she’d need to give them in another minute or two.