The Bride Wore Spurs (The Inconvenient Bride Series, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

eternally-curious blue eyes, he said gruffly, "I'll go find a coat that you can work in, then we've got to get busy. We're running late this morning."
    "A moment, please?" He complied, but continued to stare at her from under a frown. "Forgive me if I've been at fault or if I've upset you somehow, Mr. Winterhawke, but—"
    "Stop calling me that." No one, but no one had ever addressed him as "mister" anything. Hawke had been called many names over the years, to be sure, but never anything close to Mr . Winterhawke. It was an odd sensation to hear his name spoken this way—one he was pretty sure he didn't like. "Call me Hawke like everyone else does."
    "If you wish it. As I was saying..." Lacey left the rest of the sentence unsaid, as her "doting" fiancé had walked away and disappeared into the bowels of his home. Now what? And exactly what made the man behave so rudely toward her? Blast the luck! What if he was always in such a bad humor, and his foul temper had nothing whatsoever to do with her? She wasn't at all sure that convincing him to marry her would be worth the trouble.
    Deciding to have a better look at what might be her new home, Lacey glanced around the house. The place was magnificent. Made of thick, aromatic pine logs, the living room featured a high A-shaped ceiling braced by additional split logs and a center pole that featured eight spokes which reached up to support the ceiling in inverted tepee fashion. The immense stone fireplace at the narrow end of the room added a cozy touch, and with the fire burning at low as it was, turned the log walls to a rich dark maple color. But that was where this room's charm ended.
    Caleb's modest little house had lovely lace curtains at the windows, shellacked floors, and thick rugs scattered throughout, whereas this place almost boasted of its lack of refinement. The huge bay window, including a pair of smaller ones to each side, was bare, inviting the night and its chill inside the room. As far as Lacey could tell, the floors were not shellacked—that was a guess since dirt and great clumps of mud seemed to be scattered everywhere—and there wasn't a rug to be seen. As for furnishings, the overstuffed chair and small lamp table positioned directly in front of the fireplace were apparently all he owned.
    "Here you go, ma'am," Hawke said as he strolled back into the room and handed her a small jacket. "Take off that silly cape and put this on."
    Lacey snatched the garment from his hand. "Forgive my insolence, Mr.... Hawke, but if I've done something to offend you, I would like to know what 'tis. Seems to me that you're very unhappy in my presence, but for the life of me, I can not understand why. Would you mind telling me?"
    She looked like a banti hen standing there, her feathers all ruffled, eyes flashing with a temper to match her hair, and for a moment, Hawke felt a little spot inside him go soft, the part of him that always melted for any kind of misfit be it human or animal. But then he reminded himself that fragile Miss Lacey was in no way, shape, or form, a misfit. Even though he still wondered what was wrong with her, he knew that all she need do was flash those blue eyes and toss those coppery ringlets, and she could have the man of her choice in any town. In any territory. She didn't need him. And he sure as hell didn't need her. Hawke toughened himself against those beautiful Irish eyes.
    "The only thing that offends me, ma'am, is wasting time. This ranch runs on the same schedule as the sun, and I don't like that schedule messed with." He turned and headed for a wide arched doorway, but kept talking over his shoulder. "We've got to get breakfast out of the way now if we hope to get on schedule, so it's about time you went to work. I'll be right back to get you started on your chores."
    Although still less than thrilled by the man's consistently bad attitude, after he disappeared into the other room, Lacey slipped out of her cloak to don the warm, sheepskin