Tall, Dark, and Determined (33 page)

“Well, that settles it.” She read the resignation on his features clear as day. “You'll start teaching me tomorrow.”

And tomorrow would be a glorious day.

The next day dawned with one of those suddenly soggy quirks of mountain weather. Chase woke to the sound of rain beating on his tent. For a moment he lay there. With Decoy's shaggy—and admittedly better smelling—bulk warming the tent, he wasn't in any hurry to leave his bedroll and face the cold outside.

And that was before he remembered his plans for the day. Chase groaned at the thought of getting saddled with Miss Lyman on the day he'd earmarked for riffling through Hope Falls.
Of all days, it had to be this one
. Leading a pampered princess through overgrown brush already ranked as unappealing. Throw in a deluge of rain and the prospect went downright bleak.

Unless …
She won't want to go traipsing through mud and rain, getting cold and ruining one of those pretty dresses she's so fond of. A smile crept across his face as Chase plotted
.

All he had to do was show up ready to take her hunting. She'd refuse, and he'd be off the hook for good. Not even Miss Lyman could complain that he didn't fulfill his part of the bargain if she backed out. If she didn't follow through with their first set of plans, he wasn't obligated to make more.

And if she's stubborn enough to set out, I'll make Miss Lyman so miserable she'll head home early and not ask to go again.
It wouldn't be difficult. Chase knew where the worst terrain lay, which low-lying areas turned to boggy muck from rainfall, where the river swelled to make crossing difficult. He made it a point to know and avoid those spots. If necessary, he'd direct the spoiled lady through every one of them.

It might even be fun
. Starting to look forward to a day either free of Miss Lyman's interference or devoted to making her less demanding, Chase didn't mind leaving the warm tent. He got dressed, packed up, then booted a less-than-ecstatic Decoy out of the tent so he could take it down. Trying to keep a cook fire going in the midst of this weather was the act of a fool or a desperate man. And Chase had already learned that the breakfasts in Hope Falls were worth getting up for.

Dropping Decoy off at the cow barn, where the dog promptly curled up on a bed of warm, fragrant hay, posed no problems. He'd stay there until Chase came to fetch him, glad to be out of the rain. For a dog who loved water, Decoy sure didn't like rain. A shame, really, since Chase planned to bring him out in it for a spell. Some rain would help wash away the lingering detergent-like smell still clinging to the dog's fur.

Chase hit the door of the diner whistling. He stepped into the kitchen, found his prey, and gave a wolfish grin.

“Well, Miss Lyman, are you ready to start tracking?”

    TWENTY-SEVEN    

T
he man had to be joking. Lacey eyed him, wary of a trap. Dunstan knew full well that she—and he—couldn't leave the others alone with a group of lumbermen stuck inside all day. Not to mention that no one with an ounce of sense would go merrily marching through the wild in the midst of a downpour.
Did I actually hear him whistling before he opened the door?

Something was wrong here, and it went beyond her usual suspicion of anyone who managed to be cheerful early in the morning. Dunstan didn't seem nearly so pleased with the prospect of taking her hunting yesterday.
So why is he raring to go now?

There he stood, one eyebrow raised as in challenge, waiting for her to grab her cloak. Before breakfast. To go out in the rain. Surely he knew the weather would postpone their outing? Chase Dunstan was many things—aggravating, resourceful, blunt, and so on—but no one could confuse him for a fool. And only a fool would forgo one of Evie's breakfasts. What man chose to get drenched and sludge through mud over eating a good meal?

None. Not a single blessed one I've ever met, including Mr
.
Dunstan. He's only inviting me because he's sure I'll refuse!
Lacey's eyes narrowed as she tried to think of a way to refuse without falling into his snare. She'd trapped him into taking her. Now he was trapping her into letting him go.

And she had no intention of releasing him from his deal.

“Well?” He propped his hip against one of the kitchen stools, smirking at her. “Daylight, such as it is, is wasting.”

“You cannot be serious, Mr. Dunstan.” Naomi seemed to realize he meant it. “Your plans will have to wait; neither of you can go trudging through the forest on a day like today.” Mercifully, she didn't mention the glaringly obvious fact that Lacey didn't
want
to go trudging through the forest.

A grin snuck across his face as though he'd expected their response. Even hoped for it, maybe. “Why not? Mud washes off.”

But responsibilities don't
. Lacey began to worry that she'd have to cancel after all. She held no doubts that Dunstan wouldn't allow her to reschedule either.
But I can't abandon them. How on earth can he even consider that I would?

The answer stared her straight in the face. Lacey shook her head in disbelief that it'd taken so long to find the solution. She, after all, wasn't the only one with responsibilities!

“I take it that's a no?” He'd seen the motion and wrongly judged it as a sign of defeat. Victory showed in his smug smile.

“It's raining.” She really shouldn't toy with answering, but he'd set her up to take a fall. Now she'd return the favor.

“I know. Why else would I tell you to bring your cloak?” He stretched out his long legs, making himself more comfortable. “It'll buy some time before you get too drenched. If you're worried about your dress, the cloak will catch the worst dirt.”

Normally Lacey wouldn't take it askance that a man recognized her care in dressing. Even better if he avoided situations guaranteed to ruin whatever garments she wore. But Mr. Dunstan didn't say this out of courtesy or appreciation. Somehow, he made practical clothing concerns sound trite!

“Unless, of course, you take a tumble.” Laughter crept around the edges of his nonchalance. “You do seem to make a habit of falling whenever you roam the mountainside.”

“That is none of your concern!” Lacey couldn't contain her outrage. “And, for your information, a cougar knocking one off one's feet hardly constitutes a normal fall.” Nor did jerking away from a man determined to examine her ankle, but she didn't want to mention it. The girls didn't know about that incident.

Nor did he apparently. He didn't pursue it further. Instead he again settled for trying to goad her into mucking around the mountainside. “It's my concern if you stumble while we're on a hunt. It might make us lose track of our prey.”

At least he didn't pretend the protest stemmed from any genuine worry over her well-being. Lacey tried to bank her outrage. She failed. “Your devotion to your work is touching.” She couldn't even try to make it sound like a compliment.

“Lacey …” Cora's call was a warning and a plea to control herself. Her best friend knew her temper too well.

“I do my best.” At last Dunstan's grin disappeared.

“You'd do better to concentrate on the more important part of your post,” Lacey informed him. “The rain means far more than mud. Slippery conditions keep the men from their work.”

Recognition dawned on his features, but Lacey's righteous anger continued. “Do you consider it safe to leave Evie, Naomi, and Cora cooped up with a slew of bored men? Never forgetting the town-wide brawl that broke out during our last rainy day—”

“Enough!” The barked order interrupted her mid-tirade.

“It is not enough.” She rounded on him. “The only reason you waltzed in here whistling is because, as you made so painfully clear, you expected me to forgo the excursion. And you didn't expect me to decline because I wouldn't dream of leaving my friends to entertain the men alone—you made it quite clear you believe my choices revolve around my own comfort.”

“I did expect you to cry off in face of the weather,” he conceded then fell silent. No apology followed the admission.

“We expected you to remain in town.” Evie sounded disturbed to find this in doubt. “It seems our expectations of you are a good deal higher than your estimation of Lacey's priorities.”

“I meant no insult.” The statement bordered on apologetic.

“Yet you gave one. We all understood the implications of your plan.” Only Naomi could make the remonstrance without making it an accusation. “I trust that will not be repeated.”

“No, ma'am.” He had the grace to look abashed before his gaze sought Lacey's. Speculation underscored his promise. “You can be sure I won't underestimate her in the future.”

I probably won't have to
. In his experience, people who overestimated their own worth made mistakes accordingly. And Lacey Lyman, so indignant over an implied insult, showed that pride was her Achilles' heel. The whole scene would've amused Chase if that pesky twinge of guilt would go away.

It didn't.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he'd let his own ambitions and grudges block his better judgment. Chase could've kicked himself for overlooking the obvious need to stay in town. If he'd thought beyond his own irritation at being stuck with the woman, he'd have already been in the diner with the men. It was his job to make sure the men didn't get restless and stupid.

Instead, restlessness brought out his own stupidity.
I got so caught up in wanting to get the better of her that I gave in to the worst of myself
. It shouldn't take the likes of Lacey Lyman to remind him of his responsibilities. That rankled almost as much as overlooking them in the first place. Chase wasn't used to being wrong and found he didn't much like the feeling.

Nor did he like the increasing number of ways the woman defied his expectations. She penned the ludicrous ad responsible for bringing overeager, difficult bachelors swarming down on her and her friends. Then she turned around and tried to protect them from those very bachelors. Her clothes declared her shallow, fussy, and dainty. But she didn't turn a hair over shooting a pouncing cougar, taking on a mess to stagger stalwart men, or taking on the task of bathing his Irish wolfhound. A mass of contradictions, the only thing she kept consistent was her temper, and it, like the rest of her, was spectacular.