The Scoundrel. Lisa Plumley

and biddable. She fit his qualifications of being both amenable and experienced with children, and she’d be able to bring mischievous Eli in line right away. Hell, he reckoned she’d probably enjoy exercising her mothering instincts while she was doing it. Daniel was practically doing her a favor.

      Feeling good about that, he tossed through his wardrobe for the pair of fine britches he rarely wore. Made of sober scratchy wool the color of tree bark, they matched his only suit coat and were the best he could manage for a special occasion. In honor of that occasion, he also searched for a fancy shirt. Sarah deserved a bridegroom who arrived at the church looking a mite finer than Daniel usually did—fit for better than sweating over a hot blacksmith’s fire all day.

      He paused, considering what his bride might look like when she arrived. The furthest he could imagine was a billowy white dress—and even that was stretching things, given that Sarah generally wore the plainest clothes she could find. In fact, her whole appearance was plain. Ordinary brown hair scraped in a bun at her neck. Teasing eyes. And…what else?

      Daniel squinted, trying to bring Sarah’s face in view. All he conjured were the vaguest details. He guessed he’d never examined her closely. With a shrug, he dismissed the effort. That was probably the way Sarah wanted it. Anyone could tell that ladies like the dance-hall troupe wanted to be looked at. His longtime friend clearly did not.

      As far as he could recall, though, Sarah did look serviceable enough that she wouldn’t be an eyesore over bacon and eggs in the mornings. That would be right fine, Daniel told himself as he got dressed. There were more important considerations than whether or not Sarah made him question the architecture of her bustle.

      Striding through his small house, Daniel paused at the kitchen table. Eli sat there with one foot bolstered on his chair seat, spooning up the leftovers of last night’s beans and corn bread. Daniel ruffled the boy’s sleep-rumpled hair, gave him an affectionate tickle under the arm, then moved on to stoke the stove. Maybe he’d borrow a flatiron from old Agnes Harrison next door and fancy up his and Eli’s duds but good. Ironing couldn’t be that difficult. Hell, Daniel handled hot metal every day.

      After he’d wolfed down the rest of the corn bread and a quantity of honey, Daniel found his thoughts turning again to Sarah. Although she was a female, most of the time she was nearly as sensible as a man. He’d never known her to be anything less than agreeable, faithful and tolerant. And she shared Daniel’s views—their simple marriage arrangement was proof of that.

      He hadn’t had to charm her, cajole her or engage in mush-hearted, untrustworthy nonsense like courting her, either. Truthfully, the businesslike nature of their arrangement had come as a relief. He was not a man who believed in giving over to sentimental pap—now, since Eli’s arrival, more than ever.

      Most importantly, Daniel assured himself, Sarah knew him. Since their days in the schoolroom together—he, copying answers from her slate; she, charitably allowing him to—they’d been inseparable friends. Uniquely among women, Sarah understood his fondness for late nights, good whiskey and masculine disarray. She wouldn’t expect to change him. That was a quality he valued in her.

      Not that he intended to cheat Sarah in this marriage arrangement. Frowning at the very notion, Daniel washed up, then stropped his shaving razor. It would be good for her, too. She wanted children. He now had a child, and he didn’t mind sharing Eli one whit. The boy was too much trouble for one person. Even one person as skilled as Daniel ordinarily was.

      Caring for an eight-year-old boy was more than he’d ever counted on. It would be unnatural for him to prove talented at womanly arts like cooking, coddling and making sense of sewing up Eli’s tiny britches when they ripped through after a bout of snake hunting. Hell, Daniel hadn’t been able to find a pair of clean socks for either of them for the past week. That proved something, didn’t it?

      Satisfied this arrangement would be right for everyone concerned, Daniel spent the rest of the morning preparing for Sarah’s arrival. For the first time in his life, he wielded a flatiron—then gave thanks it would be the last he’d have to do with the puny thing. For the first time in weeks, he got Eli into a bath—then gave thanks Sarah would be the one to threaten, bribe and chase sixty-five pounds of slippery, defiant boy next time.

      For the first time in recent memory, Daniel even tidied up. He counted it as a demonstration of how much he looked forward to the meal Sarah would doubtless cook for them that night. After a frowning perusal of the kitchen, he paid special care to sweeping a clean path between the cookstove and food cupboard. There. That was better.

      All the while, he listened to Eli. The boy followed him from room to room, chattering about the clouds, the spider in the corner, the white horse he’d seen two days earlier, the candy he wanted in the mercantile…it went on and on. Ever since their walk home from the train depot on the night of Eli’s arrival, the boy had rarely shut his mouth. Daniel figured he must have stored up lots of conversation on the train ride from the East. He could think of no other explanation.

      “It’s time to head out to the church,” Daniel said, ending a debate about whether tadpoles were fish or frogs. “We don’t want to keep Miss Crabtree waiting.”

      Eli blanched. “Church? Miss Crabtree?”

      That was when, looking down into the boy’s astonished face, Daniel realized the truth. In his haste to get on with his marriage by arrangement, he’d forgotten to do one thing.

      Tell Eli about it.

      In the Crabtree household, events were proceeding as per usual. Which meant that mayhem was the order of the day. Much bustling and chattering ensured it would remain so—at least until after the middle Crabtree daughter was safely wed.

      Sarah sat in the midst of all the hubbub, contemplating the hurried days that had brought her here. She’d written invitations until her fingers were ink-stained. She’d mended and washed and ironed all the things she owned, along with a few items Fiona Crabtree had decided her daughter should take to her new household. She’d experimented with hairstyles, rebutted Grace’s warnings about the patriarchal aspects of marriage and—most difficult of all—had done her best to hide from her family the true nature of her “arrangement” with Daniel.

      They’d been surprised, of course. Especially by the haste with which Sarah and Daniel wanted to go forward with their marriage. But in the end, the Crabtrees seemed to conclude that Sarah and Daniel’s longtime friendship had finally blossomed into something more. They’d not questioned her any further. Her father, in particular, had thrown his support to her wedding with as much enthusiasm as he’d shown her sister Molly’s recent nuptials.

      “I suppose matrimony is in the air now,” Adam Crabtree had said, blinking at her through his spectacles. “Ever since your sister got herself married, I expected either you or Grace would be next.”

      Grace, passing by in her grass-stained bicycling costume and gloves, had only snorted. With their father the sole exception, everyone knew Grace had other ambitions. Marriage was the very least of them.

      Daniel had wanted to tell everyone the truth of their convenient match. Sarah’s pride hadn’t allowed it. For once in her twenty-five years, she was at the center of life in her boisterous household. She couldn’t bear to see her family looking at her with pity instead, for having accepted such an arrangement.

      Especially her sister, Molly.

      “Are you sure this is what you want, Sarah?” she’d asked, looking concerned. “I’ve never known you to be this hasty. Marriage is nothing to be rushed into.”

      “I’m absolutely certain,” Sarah had said. Then she’d snatched another piece of gingerbread from the tray Molly had baked and munched heartily to forestall further questions.

      It was true. As she sat in the parlor now in her finest Sunday dress, quietly arranging the lace on her sleeves, Sarah didn’t feel the least bit concerned. She knew beyond a shadow of doubt that she could make a marriage work between her and Daniel McCabe—and that, sooner or later, he would love her.

      She’d conquered difficult challenges