The Minx Miner Page 6

  Stunned, all she could do was gape at him. “Logan?”

  She moved forward, reaching out for him, but he held up his hand. “We can’t do this.”

  The four words shattered her heart. “Why?”

  “Because you’re taken. You’ve made promises.”

  She wanted to blurt out that she’d lied, that no one was waiting for her. But what would he say? Honor was important to him, and she’d deceived him. “But I don’t remember to whom. And how am I ever to know if one of the men out there claiming I’m theirs is actually telling the truth?” She took a deep breath. “And there’s one more thing.”

  She waited until he looked at her. “What?”

  “I don’t love him. I don’t care about him. I care about you.”

  He shook his head, already denying her words. “I took advantage of you here. You were shaken by what happened. I should’ve never done that.”

  She crossed her arms. “What do you think I am, Logan? A damsel in distress? I’m a woman. A fully capable, intelligent woman. I made the choice to kiss you just now. I’m not some bystander you accosted with your lips. I want this.” She took a step toward him. “I want you. Don’t ever say I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at her.

  Then dread pooled in her belly. Did he regret it because he had feelings for another? Had he already made promises to Eliza?

  Mortification swept through her. “You know what? Let’s just forget this ever happened. It’s clear you wish it never had. I appreciate your offer of protection, but I’ll be just fine on my own.” If she had to start carrying a gun, she would. “I think we’ve seen enough for today. No man is here waiting for me.”

  She spun on her heel and walked back to the wagon. She couldn’t get home soon enough—

  Except, she realized…Logan’s ranch would never be her home.

  Chapter 7

  The moment they returned from their disastrous trip to town, Gemma was certain of one thing—it was time to move on. She couldn’t stay in town, with how the men had reacted. It would never be safe. And she was finished with wanting Logan.

  She’d been right this whole time. He wasn’t for her, and she’d been a fool to forget that for even a moment.

  She walked in the house and headed straight for Alison. As agreed, Gemma was hired to work in the house.

  It wasn’t ideal—she wasn’t really suited for anything they needed done—but it was a start. She would work at Logan’s estate, get her feet under her, and then move on. She was strong and young, and she would learn.

  She just wished she’d realized this was how it was all going to turn out before she’d come. If there was a way to go back to her time… But that wasn’t an option now, and it did no good for her to dwell on the past.

  She’d finally figured out how to do laundry, so that’s what she did first. She’d been working since sunrise, and her hands and forearms were red with irritation from the caustic soap.

  But she’d done it.

  She’d washed everything she’d been given and was doing it well. She needed to dust next and then polish the entry, but compared to laundry, that almost seemed like a vacation.

  She was armed with cleaning supplies and had already completed half of the room when a knock sounded at the door. She looked around, unsure if she should answer it or not. Who was in charge of that?

  Finally, when the second knock sounded, she put down her rag, rubbed her hands on the work apron she wore over one of Alison’s older work dresses and answered the door—to her nightmare.

  “Miss Watts, is that you?” Eliza Pollard asked, trying to sound unsure, but Gemma could see the gleam in the vicious woman’s eyes.

  “It is. If you’d like to step into the parlor, I can let Mrs. Walburn know you’re here.”

  The woman stepped into the house like she already owned it, her lilac gown exquisitely bedecked in bows and ruffles. She waved her hand. “Oh, I’m not here to see Mrs. Walburn. I’m here to see Logan—Mr. Walburn,” she stressed as if she’d accidentally slipped and used his first name.

  Gemma grabbed a handful of her skirt, worried she’d pummel the snotty girl. “Then please make yourself comfortable, and I’ll have someone fetch him for you.”

  She turned to leave, but Eliza called out, “Be a dear and bring tea. I have a feeling I’ll be here for some time. Oh, and tell the cook not to send any of those jam cookies from last time.” She scoffed. “Honestly, with how much money they have, they should fire the cook and get a new one.”

  Gemma was done. She didn’t curtsy, didn’t say anything more, she just left. If Logan and Alison wanted to fire her over it, she didn’t care. She might be working for them, but she wasn’t a servant, and she refused to be treated like dirt.

  She knocked on Logan’s door, her heart racing knowing she would see him in a moment, but she pushed the feeling down.

  “Enter.”

  She opened the door softly. “Miss Pollard is here to see you.”

  Surprise lit his eyes. “Gemma, what is this?” He jumped out of his chair, gesturing to her dress as he came to her. “Why are you wearing that?”

  She swallowed hard. She’d assumed his mother had told him about her new position, but apparently, she hadn’t. “I’m no longer a guest here, Mr. Walburn. I’ve been hired as staff for the house.”

  He was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “No.”

  “It’s true. I spoke with your mother after we got home yesterday. I’ll be working in this position until I find my groom, or I decide otherwise.”

  He stepped closer to her, but she moved out of range. “Gemma, you don’t have to do this. You can just stay with us as a guest. You don’t need to work.”

  She looked at him, at the confusion on his face. She wasn’t doing this to hurt him. “I do need to do this. You saw what it was like in town. It’ll always be like that.”

  “Your real fiancé will have proof. He’ll have your letters.”

  “But what if he doesn’t? What if they got lost or he got rid of them?” She knew there was no one waiting for her, but she still couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. “What if he changed his mind?”

  But before she turned away, he blocked her exit. “What do you mean?”

  She looked him in the eyes. “What if it was all a hoax? Someone writing letters for sport. What if no one ever comes for me?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not possible. He’s out there, and he wants you.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  His jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

  She shook her head and ducked under his arm. The whole conversation was pointless. “Your guest is waiting. I’ll bring her the tea service she requested—”

  “Gemma—”

  “Mr. Walburn.” She curtsied, but it wasn’t in a subservient way. It was a dismissal, and they both knew it.

  She couldn’t run from the room fast enough.

  Gemma trudged to her bedroom, exhausted from a long day. She’d spent hours polishing silver and setting an elaborate table for Alison’s party tonight—the one Eliza had gushed about.

  It was everything the viper had said and more.

  And even though Gemma was bone tired, her heart was even more weary. She didn’t belong at that table. She was poor, had no family.

  She was nothing.

  Alison had tried to get her to come tonight, but that would be a mistake. She would only be an embarrassment to the family, and she refused to be a spectacle.

  Almost as if she’d imagined her, Alison appeared in her doorway. “Everything looks perfect, Gemma. You might not have known how to do laundry or milk a cow, but you sure know how to set a table.”

  She smiled half-heartedly. “I’ve had a bit more practice with this one.”

  “Have you decided what you’ll wear tonight?”

  Gemma sighed. “I already told you I’m not coming.”

>   “This isn’t up for debate,” Alison announced. “You’re coming to the dinner.”

  “I don’t even have anything appropriate to wear. Besides, I’m a servant.”

  Alison pursed her lips. “We both know you’re no servant. You might be earning your keep, but you’re too terrible at your chores to have been doing them your whole life.”

  Gemma’s mouth dropped open.

  “Oh, don’t act all shocked. It doesn’t matter to me one way or another. But I’m telling you now, Gemma, you’ll be at this party. Even if I have to pull you by your ear.”

  Gemma didn’t doubt the woman would do it. She threw her hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll be there. But if you’re humiliated by what I wear, it’s your own fault.”

  Alison smiled with satisfaction. “I thought you might say that.” She looked down the hall and crooked her finger.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Oh, just having something delivered.” The housekeeper who’d been kindly showing Gemma how to perform her chores stepped in and laid one of Alison’s exquisite silk gowns on the bed. “We’re a similar size.”

  Gemma reached over and gently touched the material. She’d never seen anything so fine—in either time. “It’s beautiful.” She longed to wear it. “But I can’t.”

  Alison scoffed. “Of course you can. And you will.”

  Before Gemma could say anything else, Alison left, closing the door behind her and leaving Gemma to look at the gown.

  She couldn’t really wear it, could she? Perhaps the better question was should she? This wasn’t her life. At least, it wasn’t long term. If she ever made enough to afford a luxury like this, it would be years—possibly decades—away.

  She ran a finger over the material again, wishing.

  What could one night hurt though? And it wasn’t like Alison had given her a choice. This was the last time she’d be able to do something like this, to be elegant and attend a fancy party.

  Before she realized she’d even made the choice, she reached for the dress.

  Tonight, she’d be Cinderella.

  Chapter 8

  Logan hated these affairs. It was a chance for people to enter their home, pretend they were more important than everyone else, and gorge themselves at his expense.

  He agreed with his mother that they were necessary, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  He greeted his guests as they entered the parlor. The men wore formal black suits while the women wore silks and lace in every color. Jewels sparkled around their necks, but none of it impressed Logan.

  “Winthrop.” He greeted the hotel owner, genuinely happy to see him, then turned to his wife. “Mrs. Winthrop, always a pleasure.”

  Her blonde hair was swooped back in a style as elaborate as her skirts. “I thought I’ve told you to call me Willow.”

  Logan grinned. “So you have.”

  Her eyes lit with amusement. “You still won’t though, will you?”

  “Perhaps someday, Mrs. Winthrop.”

  Rhys Winthrop had married well, as had several of Logan’s other friends.

  In gold-rush towns like these, there were all sorts of people—good and bad. Rhys was one of the good ones. “I was grateful that both you and the McDermotts accepted our invitation this evening,” he said, speaking of Rhys’ sister and her husband, one of the Copper Kings. “I haven’t seen them in some time.”

  “The copper mine has been taking up a lot of their time,” Rhys said.

  “Ah.” Logan wasn’t surprised. It was one of the largest in the world. “I’m glad to hear that business is going so well.”

  Rhys gave an amused smile. “No one’s complaining, that’s for sure.”

  Logan laughed, movement catching his eye.

  Rhys glanced behind him. “Looks like you have more guests. We’ll talk later.”

  “Thank you.” He said his goodbyes then looked to the next group, and his enjoyment dropped.

  He held out his hand to the older man. “Mr. Pollard, it’s lovely to see you.” Unable to put it off, Logan nodded to Mrs. Pollard and Eliza. “And your family. It’s lovely to see you Mrs. Pollard, Miss Pollard.”

  Eliza preened, and the urge to excuse himself almost prevailed over his good manners.

  “You’re too kind, Mr. Walburn,” Eliza said, offering him her gloved hand.

  He couldn’t refuse it without a scene. He placed a quick, light kiss on the back of her hand, and then spoke to all three. “Enjoy yourselves this evening.”

  After the three trailed away, his mother stepped up to his side and whispered, “How is Miss Pollard doing this evening?”

  “She seems well, Mother.”

  She looked at him knowingly. “You know, I only wanted you to start courting someone. It doesn’t have to be her if you’re not interested.”

  He shrugged. To him, one woman was the same as another in that regard—except Gemma. “It doesn’t matter to me. I was doing it to please you.”

  She eyed him as if trying to figure something out. “You know, if you were interested in someone else, someone who works hard but has little to her name, I would approve.”

  He shook his head, shutting her down. “That can never happen.”

  “I wouldn’t say never. Things happen all the time.” She held up her hands. “But I won’t push it if you don’t wish me too.”

  “She’s promised to another,” he said, knowing he should remain silent. But hearing his mother’s approval only made things worse.

  She waved to one of their guests then leaned toward him. “But not married.”

  She made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t. Things were complicated.

  “I can see you’re still debating over it, so I won’t say anything more. However, I think you should prepare yourself. You might be surprised this evening.” And before he could ask her what she meant, she moved away, joining another conversation.

  He wondered what she was up to but figured he would find out eventually. He greeted several more guests until pale blue silk caught his eye from down the hall—opposite from the front door.

  Staring at the ruffled, draped skirt, his gaze made its way up to a tiny, cinched waist and lace bodice. When he finally made it to the woman’s face, his breath escaped him. “Gemma.” He was at a loss for words. “You’re breathtaking.”

  She glided toward him, blushing, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. He’d been insanely attracted to her in denim clothes and even the work dresses she’d donned the last few days, but how she looked now, he’d never forget.

  Her hair was curled and pinned up with large ringlets escaping. She didn’t have any other embellishments such as the dripping diamonds and sapphires some of the others wore, but he couldn’t imagine her looking any more stunning. Those stones would only take away from her true beauty. “I hardly know what to say.”

  Her lips curved. “I look presentable, then?”

  “More than. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said honestly.

  Her mouth formed an o, but she didn’t say anything. He knew he shouldn’t have admitted to it, but Gemma needed to know her value. He refused to have her mingle with the other guests without knowing her worth.

  He took her gloved hand in his, bringing it to his lips and brushing it with a soft, lingering kiss. He wanted to say more, do more, but with so many other people around, he restrained himself. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

  Her lips quirked. “Your mother wouldn’t let me sit this one out.”

  He snorted. “That sounds like her.” He offered his arm. “Let me escort you in.”

  “Don’t you have more guests you need to greet?”

  “None that matter.”

  She ducked her head a moment but then looked up. “All right.” She tucked her arm in his and smiled.

  It felt so right it made him stagger. He’d only known her for a short while, but she had completely changed his life. Everything he thought and felt was different. He w
anted things he’d never dreamed of before.

  Home. Family. Love.

  Those things used to fill him with dread. They’d always been a burden, a duty he’d have to perform one day. But with Gemma next to him, starting a family was no longer a bleak prospect. He looked forward to it.

  He introduced her to his friends and associates, not letting her go for even a moment. He didn’t care how it might appear to others.

  A few moments later, dinner was announced.

  He probably should have escorted his mother, but when he glanced at her, she only looked at him approvingly. If Gemma was embarrassed by the attention he gave her, she hid it well. In fact, she seemed somewhat oblivious to it. And that pleased him.

  He brought her to her seat, somewhat frustrated she was several places away from him. He wouldn’t be able to talk with her during the meal, but it was probably better that way.

  As each day passed without a man showing up to claim her, his reasons for staying away faded. All he’d been able to think about was their kiss, how she felt in his arms—and how he could do it again.

  Once the guests were seated, he stood, holding his glass for a toast. “I’m grateful to see so many good friends here tonight. Promise Creek is our town, our legacy. Each person in this room has seen to its prosperity. Through our work and connections, I know it will only continue to grow into a place we can be proud of—into a place our children will be proud of. To Promise Creek.”

  Everyone echoed the toast and drank, and the first course was brought out.

  He conversed with the people around him, wishing he’d been seated by more agreeable people. But this was business. Mr. Pollard commented on the expanded mining operations in the area, but Logan only responded with passing comments as he watched Gemma. She chatted amiably with the people around her, charming everyone. She was a natural in this situation, and it pleased him to see that she could make conversation as easily with one of the neighboring mine owners as she could the pastor.

  Mr. Pollard followed his gaze and then frowned. “I see we have a new guest tonight. My daughter mentioned she’s one of your maids. Is that true?”