Free Luke’s Runaway Bride by Kate Bridges Page A

see that pretty lopsided smile of hers, he became the victim of another frosty glare.
    Clearing his throat with an anxious cough, he tugged at the brim of his hat. “Maybe you could lend her some clothes, Daisy, while she’s visiting.”
    “Well, I’d be happy to. Don’t have anything real fancy, though, I’ll warn you now.” She studied Jenny’s ball gown as she shooed her up onto the porch. “Nothin’ like what you’re wearing. And I have to tell you…”
    Jenny hesitated. “Yes?”
    “Us folks around here, we’re a little different from you city folks.” The kind old woman glanced at the billowing dress and the muddy cloth boots, concern pulling at her wrinkled cheeks. “We don’t usually get so dressed up to go visiting.”
    Jenny colored fiercely, puckered her lips ever so slightly and turned in Luke’s direction. He withered on the spot.
    With a firm hand on Jenny’s shoulder, Daisy led her across the porch. Jenny moved to the other side of Daisy, as far away from Luke as possible.
    He shook his head.
    He knew he’d pay for it later, but at least Jenny hadn’t left yet.
     

    Wearing a clean, faded blouse and skirt, but feeling a jumbled mass of emotions, Jenny studied Luke across the pine table.
    She was trying to understand him and the reason he’d brought her here. He was a man of opposites. How could a person who’d so forcefully snatched her from her home sit so comfortably among these pleasant folks?
    What in tarnation was she supposed to do now? Luke had completely stumped her by releasing her from captivity and dumping her on her future family. And he’d assured her Olivia was safe, too.
    Daisy was clearing the dishes with a loud clatter. They’d left the porch door propped open during the meal, and a fresh breeze curled through the room. Jenny sipped her coffee and nervously looked around. The interior of the house was lit with sunshine and furnished with colorful fabrics and quilts. A round iron stove sat in a corner of the kitchen.
    Avoiding Jenny’s gaze for the umpteenth time, Luke strode to the pie safe and pulled out a pecan pie. Its fresh-baked fragrance wafted through the air as he set it on the table. Adam passed out plates and forks.
    “Don’t use those everyday things,” hollered Daisy from the counter. “Nathaniel, reach up there on the top shelf of the sideboard and grab me them special plates, the pretty blue ones we won at the fair.”
    Standing at the head of the table, Luke began to cut the pie. He had changed into fresh clothes and pulled a comb through his hair, but he hadn’t shaved his two days’ growth of black whiskers. The contradiction gave him a rugged, masculine appearance which Jenny was having difficulty ignoring. She bristled with irritation.
    Why were Luke and Daniel fighting?
    And why hadn’t Daniel told her he had living relatives? He’d given her the impression he had no one.
    Wasn’t she worthy of being told?
    Her lashes swept downward. She was still debating whether to tell the older folks about the real manner in which she’d been brought here, and her own hesitation confused her. What was holding her back?
    The fact that the older couple might not believe her? Would they think she was a little touched? Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to find the right words to express how their beloved Luke, this man they fawned over, had taken her against her will. And if they did believe her, what would her admission cost?
    It would throw a shadow on her upcoming wedding.
    What would that do to Daniel and his relationship with these people? She’d have a better chance of knowing what to do if she knew what in blazes the two men were fighting about.
    She studied the stubborn line of Luke’s jaw as he dished up the pie, looking for clues. His thoughtful silence gave her none. He winced with a sudden movement, and clutched his side. His ribs were sore. Why hadn’t he mentioned his injury to anyone here? Why hadn’t she?
    Recovering, he passed her