Hill Country Courtship. Laurie Kingery

sat there waiting expectantly, while he searched for the right words, the right expression, that would ensure she gave him the answer that he wanted. He could brook no more delays in finding a companion for his mother, and he knew down to his bones that Maude Harkey was the right woman for the job. But could he make her see that?

      He cleared his throat, which had become thick with apprehension. “Miss Harkey, when we met Saturday, you will recall that I asked you to consider a position as companion to my mother. At the time, you declined to consider it.”

      Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod.

       Why was he speaking so formally? She knew as well as he did what had transpired in their conversation that day. Why did he feel he had to restate the case, as if he were some starchy-collared lawyer?

      He cleared his throat again. Should he just come right out and ask her once more if she would be willing to take the job she had seemed so opposed to before, as if he just assumed that she would have reconsidered and decided to take him up on it? As if by coming here today, he was merely sparing her the trip out to Five Mile Hill Ranch to ask him if the job was still open?

      No. It might be too easy for her to take offense if he took that approach. Better to be honest, to lay all his cards out on the table, so she would feel as if she was the one doing him the favor. Which she would be, of course. He’d make that clear, too. She deserved to know what she was in for if she accepted the position.

      He turned to face her. “Miss Harkey, I beg you to reconsider. We need you—my mother needs you—very much. If I don’t return with at least a promise that you will come and help us, our housekeeper will quit. I have a ranch to run, ma’am, and all I’m getting done is pacifying Senora Morales so that she will stay one more hour, one more day.”

      Miserably, he let his gaze drop to his hands once again. Maude Harkey was going to refuse once more, he was certain of it. He would have to retreat to his fallback position, which was pleading with her to introduce him to one of her friends who might be willing to take on the job she would not accept.

      “Actually, Mr. MacLaren,” Maude said, “my...um, circumstances have changed since the barbecue in such a way that I would be willing to take the position you have offered.”

      It was a moment before his mind caught up with the fact that she was accepting, not rejecting his offer. He was so surprised that a heartfelt thank You, God almost escaped his lips. Almost. It was bad enough he’d used the word beg. His pride was a bruised and battered thing now, after everything that had happened to him, but he clung to it all the same, as any Scotsman would. Stooping to begging grated on him, as necessary as it had been. It would have been disastrous if he’d actually thanked the Lord aloud, as if he’d been drowning and she’d been the one to throw him a rope. He had to remember that he would be her employer, and as such would need to get and keep the upper hand from the first.

      “Thank you.” He was pleased to note that he sounded completely normal. “How soon would you—”

      She held up a hand. “But I have conditions upon which my acceptance must be based, before we can be in total agreement, Mr. MacLaren.”

      Now who sounded like a starchy-collared lawyer? “Conditions?” he echoed, suddenly wary.

      “Yes, conditions. After the barbecue, a young girl presented herself here at the boardinghouse in the middle of the night, soaked to the skin, and—forgive me for being plainspoken, Mr. MacLaren—in an advanced stage of labor. She sought the father of the baby, a traveling merchant who often stays here on his rounds, but her timing was unfortunate. He had left Simpson Creek just that morning and has not returned since. That night, she gave birth to a baby girl, and all seemed to be well.”

      He stared at her, trying to make sense of her story. Why was she telling him this?

      “What does this have to do with me, Miss Harkey, and the job I have offered you?” he asked.

      She turned very blue eyes on him. “Unfortunately the baby’s mother died of childbed fever, Mr. MacLaren, just a little while ago—leaving baby Hannah, for all intents and purposes, an orphan. I am resolved to keep her and raise her as my own, assuming the father doesn’t turn up and want to take responsibility, which I highly doubt will happen. My acceptance of the position you offer is contingent on being allowed to keep baby Hannah with me at your ranch—and to bring Juana Benavides, a young widow, with me to nurse the child. Senora Benavides’s baby was stillborn the same day she lost her husband, the same night that Hannah was born—you see, so she is able to feed the child.”

      Now that he was beginning to grasp the enormity of what Maude Harkey was asking him, he marveled at her audacity. And it didn’t help just then that said infant chose this moment to start squalling from upstairs, loud enough to wake the dead.

      “You’re expecting me to let you bring a wailing baby to the ranch house—and a Mexican woman to feed her?”

      Those blue eyes narrowed. “Senora Benavides is as Texan as you are—actually more so, since as you told me you come from Scotland and her forebears lived here long before Anglo colonists came. Juana is a Tejana, Mr. MacLaren, not a Mexican.”

      Her attempt to shame him—or at least that was what he thought had motivated her last words—sparked irritation in him. “You can call her anything you want, Miss Harkey—”

      She went on as if he had not spoken. “And it’s not as if Juana would do nothing more than nurse the baby, Mr. MacLaren. She is quite willing to help your housekeeper with her duties, whenever she is not caring for little Hannah.”

      “Miss Harkey, I did not come here prepared to hire two servants,” he informed her, determined to regain control of the situation. “Or to invite the presence of a screaming infant in my house. I’m looking for more peace and quiet, not less.”

      Above them, the baby’s wailing suddenly ceased.

      Maude Harkey smiled. “There, you see? She was probably just hungry. Babies’ wants are simple, Mr. MacLaren, and once satisfied, they stop crying. I will pay Senora Benavides out of my wages for the first week, until you see what a good worker she is.”

      “It’s out of the question, Miss Harkey.” He could only imagine the explosion of temper from his mother if he returned with not only the promised companion for her, but a noisy infant and her wet nurse.

      Maude stood, her posture as stiff as any general about to order a charge. Her blue eyes blazed icy fire at him. “Then my coming to be your mother’s companion is out of the question, as well, Mr. MacLaren,” she said. “Good day to you.”

      He recognized defeat when he saw it. Worse than his mother’s wrath at the compromise he was being forced to make would be the consequences of returning to Five Mile Hill Ranch empty-handed. Not only would it enrage his mother, it would also signal the exodus of Senora Morales. He certainly couldn’t stay inside and take over that woman’s duties. Perhaps if he portrayed the deal as getting two servants for the price of one? The housekeeper, he knew, could use the help. She was no longer a young woman, and keeping the house clean and getting meals on the table three times a day was no small task.

      “Fine,” he snapped. “You may bring the infant and her w—that is, her foster mother,” he said, feeling himself redden at almost saying the phrase “wet nurse” to a lady.

      Apparently she didn’t like “foster mother” either, judging by the way she lifted her chin.

      “I will be little Hannah’s mother,” she said. “The only mother she will ever know.”

      Jonas thought he glimpsed a longing deep within those blue eyes, but he ignored it. He didn’t want to think too much about Maude’s softer qualities. Forcing an all-business tone to his voice, he said, “Very well, Miss Harkey. But being a mother to this baby must not interfere with your duties as my mother’s companion.”

      She nodded, gracious in victory. “It won’t.”

      “How