Walking on Air by Catherine Anderson Page B

Gabe was the inescapable fact that Martin Sullivan had been in his upstairs study during the attack upon his daughter, well aware of what was occurring down in the sitting room, because he and Barclay had discussed the situation and agreed it needed to happen. Nan’s premature deflowering would have ensured that she offered no last-minute objections on the day of the fast-approaching nuptials. Grinning like a cat lapping cream, Sullivan had reclined on a velvet chair in front of the fire, enjoying an expensive cigar while wreathing his head with aromatic smoke. So far as he was concerned, nothing could be allowed to prevent the wedding. Nan’s feelings about it were inconsequential. The union of the Sullivan and Barclay families would create a formidable financial alliance that would greatly benefit both men. Nan would settle down quickly enough once Barclay got her pregnant. She’d forget about her silly, girlish revulsion at marrying a much older man and focus on raising a family, just as countless other women of her station had done for centuries. Martin wasn’t about to let his daughter’s foolish notions about becoming a spinster get in the way. What a bunch of poppycock. Females had been created for one reason, and one reason only: to provide men with progeny.
    Fortunately, at least to Gabe’s way of thinking, Sullivan hadn’t counted on Nan’s knitting needle coming into play, and he’d seriously underestimated his elder daughter’s intelligence, courage, and ingenuity. While Martin Sullivan had sipped fine brandy and lit a second cigar, Nan, in shock and quivering with terror, had been emptying his study safe, stuffing possessions into pillowcases, and spiriting her little sister from the huge house through the servants’ quarters.
    Gabe wasn’t sure how Nan had found her way to Random. The angels hadn’t shown him that part of her life. He had glimpsed scenes of her early years here in a much smaller shop, and had seen the meager existence she’d led in order to get her ledgers in the black. He also knew that she’d done without many necessities in order to give Laney everything she’d felt a little girl should have.
    In short, though Gabe knew he had only a short time to enjoy it, he was proud to be Nan’s husband. She was, in his estimation, one hell of a lady. A little too prim for his taste, perhaps, and she definitely needed to learn how to laugh. But over the next month, he’d work on that.
    •   •   •
    During the renovations, Nan had enlarged the kitchen, turning the previously tiny nook into a spacious room reminiscent of the few farmhouse kitchens around Random that she’d seen. There was a wide window above the new sink, which was actually plumbed, and the counter space was ample, providing plenty of room for rolling out dough and cooling baked goods. She’d even gotten a long table, large enough to seat six, because it felt homier, as if a real family lived here.
    Gabriel Valance made the area seem smallish and cramped. Nan wasn’t sure how that could be. Though he was a tall and well-muscled man, he wasn’t
that
big. Yet he seemed to dominate the room, towering over her and robbing her lungs of breath.
    “This is nice,” he said, drawing his gaze from the frilly lace curtains above the sink to scan the adornments she’d hung on the yellow walls and set on the waxed wood counters. He smiled slightly. “Your decorating talent extends to more than just hats, I see.”
    Nan felt an odd warmth spread up her spine. She loved what she’d done with the kitchen, and of course Laney had given it high marks, but no one else, except the workmen, had seen the finished product. Having a stranger praise the room’s appearance felt . . . nice.
    She nearly smiled, but squelched the urge. Gabriel Valance wasn’t just any stranger. He was her husband, and he might give her compliments merely to butter her up. Everything she’d heard about this man and from him made it clear that he