The Hired Husband

Mitch had never slept in a bedchamber this grand. He’d seen such a room, but only to peek inside when no one was looking.

“Mr. Kincade?”

Rachel’s voice freed him from the memories.

“The room is fine,” he said.

She looked relieved. “Supper will be served at six. We’ll eat in the—”

“That’s not necessary,” Mitch told her.

Rachel huffed. “Why are you making it so difficult to extend you even the simplest courtesy?”

“I made it clear to you when I accepted this job that I’m only here to work. Nothing more.”

“Yes, you’re here for the money. I do remember that,” Rachel said. Then she smiled. “The cost of your meals won’t be deducted from your fee, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Mitch just looked at her, fighting off the urge to smile back.

“Besides, we haven’t had a guest for supper in a while,” Rachel said. “A new face at the table will be welcome.”

“Fine, then,” Mitch agreed.

Rachel headed for the door. She stopped and looked back. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, all you need do is—”

“Ask?” Mitch finished the sentence for her, remembering her remark in the study that had set his blood to boiling and brought a blush to her cheeks.

Rachel smiled sweetly. “Yes, just ask…Joseph.”

She disappeared out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Desire roiled through him again. God, how he wanted her.

Mitch found his way to the dining room at six sharp. He was certain that somewhere in the house was a breakfast room and a formal dining room for larger gatherings.

But this room held a small table that seated six. The room was cozy, decorated in shades of green. The table was set with china, crystal, linens and a floral arrangement. It sparkled in the light of the overhead chandelier.

All that silverware. Mitch studied it. Which fork, which spoon for which dish? And the stemware. So many different pieces.

Rachel and her younger sister took his attention. They were arguing. Or at least Chelsey was arguing; Rachel seemed to be doing her best to stay calm and fend off the barrage of hostile words and accusations.

They stopped abruptly at the sight of Mitch. Rachel looked embarrassed, Chelsey angry.

“Good evening,” Rachel said.

She seemed relieved at seeing him, even though her smile was forced, and for some reason that pleased Mitch.

“Let’s all have a seat, shall we?” she suggested.

Mitch seated both Rachel and Chelsey across the table from each other in the spots he was certain they’d occupied all their lives. The two end positions, designated for their mother and father, remained conspicuously empty. Mitch took the chair next to Chelsey.

Noah ambled in a few minutes later and murmured a brief greeting as he sat down. The boy looked pale and drawn. His clothes—shirt and jacket, but no necktie—hung loosely on him. His brown wavy hair curled around his collar. Mitch hadn’t noticed these things earlier when he’d seen Noah. He couldn’t help but notice now that the boy smelled of liquor.

Rachel made an attempt at small talk as the soup was served which brought a contemptuous response from Chelsey. Noah remained silent. When the main course was served—beef, maybe, and something green—Noah looked at his plate and his cheeks flashed bright red. He rose from the table and walked away.

“Noah?” Rachel called. “Noah, please, don’t—”

“There. You’ve done it again!” Chelsey shouted.

“Chelsey, please don’t raise your voice at the supper table,” Rachel said, casting an embarrassed look at Mitch. “We have a guest and—”

“You always worry about the wrong things!” Chelsey declared. “Like that ridiculous luncheon! You care more about that stupid occasion than you do us!”

“Chelsey, that’s not true—”

“That horrid Mrs. Chalmers means more to you than we do!”

“Of course not—”

“It’s true!” Chelsey burst into tears and raced out of the room.

It was all Mitch could do to stay in his chair. He wanted to go after Chelsey and find out why she was crying, then give the cook a verbal lashing for embarrassing Noah with the meal preparation.

But the look on Rachel’s face kept Mitch from leaving the room. Mortified, embarrassed, troubled. Yet she kept her chin up and blinked back tears of her own. He wanted to round the table, slip his arm around her, lay her head against his shoulder and make everything all right for her.

Yet he didn’t dare.

Instead, Mitch caught Rachel’s gaze across the table.

“Thanks for insisting I join you for supper. These family occasions are certainly special,” he said and smiled.

For a few horrible seconds, Mitch thought Rachel might actually burst into tears at his gentle teasing. Then she smiled. Then she laughed. A quick giggle that took the edge off her emotions.

“I wanted your first evening with us to be memorable,” Rachel told him.

“And you’ve succeeded beyond your wildest hope.”

They shared another moment of smiling silence. Then Mitch asked, “Is there a reason Chelsey dislikes you so much?”

“I’m ruining her life,” Rachel reported.

“I see,” Mitch replied, though he still had no idea what was going on between the sisters.

Rachel’s smile faded. “But I truly wish I knew what to do about Noah. He’s sullen and moody, almost never speaks. He stays locked up in his room nearly all the time.”

And he drinks too much, Mitch thought.

“The doctor insists this is normal, that Noah needs to come to terms with…what happened…in his own way.” Rachel shook her head. “But I feel so helpless, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t even understand what’s wrong.”