The Shepherd's Betrothal (15 page)

“I brought the sketches I was working on last night. I took into consideration some of your thoughts on the wool and, well…” She laid the sketches on the porch table. “Tell me what you think.”

Ian leaned over and examined each drawing with interest. “I like them all but I like this one the best.”

Joy filled Hope to overflowing. “Thank you, it's my favorite, as well. I designed this one for Sandra Allen. It's feminine but will give her the freedom to climb ladders, fill the shelves from the storage room and still look pretty.”

“Very practical.”

Hope reached into her purse and pulled out a rolled paper held together with a pink ribbon. “This one is for the New York governor's wife, who will be here for another month. This dress has all the bells and whistles that the French and English designers are still encouraging this year. Plus I took a layer out to cool it down for the Southern heat. The jacket can come off and reveal a lighter dress below. See?” She pointed to another pose of the same outfit without the jacket.

“It still has the bustle.”

“No respectable socialite would be caught not wearing one, no matter how impractical they think they are. Unfortunately the governor's wife is one of those people. You have to make what the customers want, not what you think would look best on them.”

“Don't ye think ye have the power to persuade them?”

“Tried. Had to back down or I wouldn't have the sale.”

“Aye, I understand that. Luckily that kind of customer doesn't affect me.” Ian gathered the drawings and handed them back to her.

“Mother said to invite you over this evening if you can leave.” Hope loved how close she and Ian were becoming. She cherished that he would take the time to go over dress designs with her, that he actually took an interest in it because it was something she enjoyed.

“I believe I can. Let me freshen up and I'll escort ye back to yer house.”

“I'll wait for you in the carriage.” She'd given up on walking back and forth. Her time was too precious. And while she was only saving twenty minutes, when you added in the time to hook up the horse to the buggy and then disconnect them afterward, it was still twenty minutes. Soon she wouldn't even have these few minutes with Ian. The storefront would be open for her to move into on Saturday, two days from now.

Mable Sanders walked over toward the buggy. “Hello, Hope. It is good to see you.”

“And good to see you, as well, Mrs. Sanders. How have you been?”

“I've been better.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Whoever is disputing the sale to Ian has now put a claim on our house.”

“What has the sheriff said?”

“He doesn't know what to make of it. He spent the better part of a day at the registrar's office trying to figure out who might be making the claim. But he found it in the records as clear as day that the property belonged to S. H. Wilson.”

“But you purchased the property forty years ago and still have the purchase and sale from the original owner.”

“That's the thing. The sheriff found the records of our original purchase, as well.”

“Well if this S. H. Wilson has owned the land for the past forty years, where has he been all this time and why hasn't he been paying the taxes?”

“All good questions, my dear. Not to mention, the sheriff hasn't found the man who was lurking in the bushes the other day.”

Hope decided she would go to the registrar's office again tomorrow and do some of her own searching. She'd go back further, to when the Ingermansons owned the property, and follow those records back.

“Good afternoon, Mable,” Ian said as he walked toward them. “How are you doing?”

“Fair. Hope can fill you in. I best get back to my laundry before the rains come.”

“God bless ye, Mable.” Ian climbed up into the buggy and took the reins. “What happened?”

“This land mess.” Hope went on to explain everything Mrs. Sanders had told to her. “I'm going to the registrar's office tomorrow to do a bit more research. There's something familiar about this S. H. Wilson but I can't put my finger on it.”

“I'll join ye. When will ye be going there?”

“How's two thirty?”

“I'll be there.” The buggy bounced as one of the wheels hit a deep rut. Hope banged into Ian. Ian steadied the buggy and wrapped his arm around her. “Are ye all right?”

Hope gazed into his crystal-blue eyes. She was drawn to him like no other. She glanced down to his lips. Ian leaned in to kiss her. Hope closed her eyes in anticipation.

“Not now, me love. Soon, when we are in private. Others are watching.”

I
an fought down every straining desire to kiss Hope. He couldn't take advantage of her when so many were aware of them. If it were simply his honor, he'd kiss her. But Hope's honor was far more precious to him.

Hope opened her dazzling green eyes.

“I love yer eyes.” He wanted to move forward in their relationship but was concerned as to whether or not he should. “They remind me of Ireland.”

Hope raised her eyebrows.

“They do,” he defended. “They remind me of the rich green hills. I spent many a day in those hills tending the sheep.”
And I'd like to spend the rest of my days looking into those eyes.
Ian straightened. It was the first time he'd admitted to himself that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hope.

Hope slid away from him in the buggy. They rode the rest of the way to her home in silence. He pulled into the carriage house. “I'll take care of the horse.”

Ian helped Hope down. “I'm sorry. I wanted to kiss you but there were too many people watching.”

Hope nibbled her lower lip. Ian reached up and caressed her silky smooth skin. “Ye are beautiful, Hope.” She smiled.

“May I kiss ye now?” Hope's eyes widened.

“I would prefer ye didn't,” Drake Lang's voice boomed.

Ian pulled away and stood ramrod straight. “I'm sorry, sir. It won't…” He was going to say it wouldn't happen again but knew he could not resist kissing Hope and planned on kissing her as soon as possible.

“Hope, go help your mother. Mr. McGrae and I have a few things to discuss.”

“Papa, no. If it involves me, I should be here.”

Drake put his hands on his daughter's shoulders. “I will speak with ye later. This is something a father must do.”

Hope nodded. Drake pulled her into a tender embrace then released her. After she left, Drake's piercing gaze met Ian's. Ian locked his gazed on Mr. Lang. “I'm sorry if I've offended ye, sir.”

Drake placed his hands behind his back and started to pace in the carriage house. “Ye are putting me in a position I do not wish to be in.”

“How so, sir?”

“I know Hope has been at your ranch. When ye were in need and Hope was doing her Christian charity, I was not concerned. But now that ye and she are showing signs of…interest, I am quite concerned.”

“I will not dishonor Hope, sir.”

“But ye already are in some circles, Mr. Lang. I will not allow that.”

Ian couldn't imagine not seeing Hope again. But he wasn't ready to commit himself to her, either. It was too soon. “Mr. Lang, Hope and I bring out the worst in each other. But I believe we also will bring out the best. Unfortunately, we are not there yet. And I don't know any other way of discovering how to bring harmony in our friendship without spending time with one another.”

Drake rubbed his beard. “Ye can spend time here at the house, or in public, but not at your farm. It is not proper and I will not have my daughter's reputation ruined.”

“Sir, if I may speak frankly, ye have blessed her most—if not all—of her life. She's never wanted for anything. But I am a simple man with simple needs. I do not wish to be the owner of a large plantation and have me servants do all me work. The question is, can she live like that?”

Drake regarded him carefully. “Take care of the horse. I need to speak with my daughter.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ian knew Mr. Lang was not satisfied and there was no question he would need to speak with Hope and hear her side.

Ian went to work removing the harness from the horse. He led the animal to his stall and brushed him down, then set out some fresh oats. Was he really ready to court Hope? And if so, who would he get to be their chaperone, especially when they were simply doing chores at the ranch?

Ian leaned against the stall wall. If only they hadn't broken their betrothal. They would be married and working out these details. Then again, maybe Hope wouldn't be seeking her own business venture, and maybe his eyes wouldn't have opened to the possibility of a wife working apart from the home.

America was changing him. Or was it that incredible redhead? In either case, he wasn't ready to go into the house just yet. Ian pushed away from the stable wall and headed into town. He needed to give them time.
He
needed time.

* * *

“Papa, how could you?” Hope demanded.

Her father squared his shoulders. “How could I not, Hope? I can see what's going on.”

Her mother came up beside her and wrapped her arms around her. Gabe, who had come in with his mother, fled. “Hope, go to yer room and give me a moment with yer father.”

Hope obeyed, knowing her mother understood her feelings for Ian. Hope knew her father; he would demand a formal courtship. There would be chaperones. She would not be allowed to go to Ian's ranch alone any longer.

And perhaps her father was right. Did they have a chance of becoming happy as husband and wife? It was too soon to know. If her passions were the only test then yes, they would be a happily married couple. However, she worried she couldn't trust her emotions. They had led her astray one too many times over the years.

“Hope, would you come down here, darling?” her mother eventually called from the bottom of the stairs.

Hope obeyed and went into the family parlor. Her father stood at the fireplace with his arm on the mantel. “Yes, sir?”

“First,” her mother started, “please tell your father and me what your feelings are for Mr. McGrae.”

“Confused. I like him. We're attracted—” she bowed her head and looked toward her lap “—to one another, and I've never felt like this before. But neither of us is sure we are right for one another. Which is why I've been spending time with him, to see if we have a chance at a possible relationship.”

Her father cleared his throat. “This would not be an issue if ye hadn't broken the betrothal.”

“I know. However, I wouldn't be starting my own business if I had married Ian right away. He wouldn't have seen me as anything more than a shepherd's wife. Now he's learning that I have a brain and know how to use it. He's actually been learning things from me, as I have been learning from him. Don't you see? We are learning about each other so we can develop toward…”

Drake Lang relaxed his stance, came over and sat beside Hope on the sofa. “I am concerned, daughter. I've let ye do more than most women are allowed. People talk, they have always talked. But yer honor has always been protected. I can't allow ye and Mr. McGrae to ruin yer honor just to find out if ye want to marry one another. I will insist on a formal courtship.”

Hope closed her eyes. “No, Papa, please don't. I would not want to wait a year to marry Ian, if we should decide to marry.”

“Drake—” her mother respectfully interjected.

Drake held up a hand. “Sally, it will have to be courtship or betrothal. I can't have Hope's reputation soiled.”

Her mother reached over and placed her hand on her father's. Drake closed his eyes. Hope watched her mother stroke her father's hand with her thumb, a silent communication developed over the years with one another.

“Papa, please try to understand. For the past three days I've been going over to the ranch, and Ian's been teaching me about the sheep, how to care for them, how to market them, all kinds of things. And I've been teaching him about the business I'm working on. We've been working together and it's been wonderful. Ian's from the old country—he's just beginning to see how and where his mother helped his father on the farm. We need this time. I'm too independent to simply be a shepherd's wife.”

“Sally, speak to your daughter!” Her father restrained himself from speaking further.

“I'm sorry, Drake,” her mother said. “Ye need to listen.” She turned toward Hope. “Has Ian been a gentleman?”

“Ian is a perfect gentleman,” Hope insisted. There was no need to tell her father about the one kiss they had shared that Ian so deeply regretted, feeling he had compromised her honor.

“At least the boy has some sense,” her father mumbled.

“Yes, Papa, more than me at times,” Hope admitted.

There was a knock at the front door.

“That'll be Ian,” Drake said. “Come in,” he called.

Hope's heart stopped in her chest. The moment of truth had arrived.

* * *

Ian squared his shoulders and stepped into the Langs' house. It was time to face Hope's parents. He'd marry her if that's what Drake Lang insisted he do, not that he hadn't had similar thoughts. But he doubted Hope would agree. There was still something she was holding back from him, and he did not want to push her.

Gabe ushered Ian into the parlor then left him with Hope and her parents. Hope stood at the fireplace. He came up beside her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms but knew that wouldn't be prudent.

Drake cleared his throat. “Mr. McGrae, we've been talking about the position you and Hope have found yourselves in. Hope is not ready to commit to marriage. Are ye?”

Ian looked at Hope. “I am not certain it would be the best situation for Hope. Yer daughter is a fascinating person. I have never met another woman… No, let me rephrase that. I have never met
anyone
quite like her before.” Ian turned back to her parents. “Forgive me, what are ye asking of me?”