The Nanny
Judith Stacy
Holy Terrors, The Lot Of 'Em!That's what everyone considered Josh Ingalls's unruly passel of kids–secretly, anyway. No sense offending the most eligible widower in town! But Annie Martin didn't care what a "catch" her employer was. She only wanted him to admit he loved his children. And possibly share a kiss or two–okay, maybe three…!This latest nanny was barely more than a girl herself, Josh Ingalls noted, but if a tree-climbing dynamo in trousers was what it took to manage his energetic tribe, he'd happily keep the amazing, amusing, arousing Annie Martin around forever!
“My kiss lacked something?”
His eyes widened. “You think my kiss lacked something?”
A little crease appeared in her forehead as she considered his question. “Well…yes.”
He sat up in the chair. “I suppose you’ve been kissed so many times that you instantly know a good kiss from a bad kiss?”
“No, I haven’t been kissed that many times, at all, if it’s any of your business,” she told him. “But the kiss definitely lacked…passion. Yes, that’s it. Passion.”
“My kisses have plenty of passion, I’ll have you know.”
Annie shrugged. “Perhaps you’re just out of practice?”
Well, he couldn’t argue with that. Still, it irritated him to no end.
“So, you’re sorry you kissed me?” she asked.
Josh’s attention turned back to Annie as she gazed at him, and instantly he knew he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. Not sorry at all….
Praise for Judith Stacy’s recent works
The Blushing Bride
“…lovable characters that grab your heartstrings…a fun read all the way.”
—Rendezvous
The Dreammaker
“…a delightful story of the triumph of love.”
—Rendezvous
The Heart of a Hero
“Judith Stacy is a fine writer with both polished style and heartwarming sensitivity.”
—Bestselling author Pamela Morsi
THE NANNY
Harlequin Historical #561
#559 THE OVERLORD’S BRIDE
Margaret Moore
#560 CIMARRON ROSE
Nicole Foster
#562 TAMING THE DUKE
Jackie Manning
The Nanny
Judith Stacy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Available from Harlequin Historicals and JUDITH STACY
Outlaw Love #360
The Marriage Mishap #382
The Heart of a Hero #444
The Dreammaker #486
Written in the Heart #500
The Blushing Bride #521
One Christmas Wish #531 “Christmas Wishes”
The Last Bride in Texas #541
The Nanny #561
To Margaret Marbury, my editor,
for your hard work and support.
To Judy, Stacy and David
for always, always, always being there.
Contents
Chapter One (#ub78fcf2b-b15c-5a4e-80bd-0ade684b435c)
Chapter Two (#u8c62aab8-586a-56f2-8f6f-a9577a32ea69)
Chapter Three (#u62805c4f-96c2-59e9-ba81-74424e126a5f)
Chapter Four (#u1333bef6-a2e7-5da4-b397-4a622d12f847)
Chapter Five (#uc6d7539f-20e1-5495-9f3c-6fa33c993504)
Chapter Six (#u56a1fc07-0138-50d3-9b09-4494beab98fa)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Wisconsin
Summer, 1840
“Mind your own business.”
Annie Martin mumbled the words to herself, forcing her attention on the sprouting weeds stretched out in front of her. She was lucky to have this job tending the gardens at the home of the wealthiest man in the settlement. No, more than lucky, Annie reminded herself. Darned lucky. Even if she was seeing weeds in her sleep.
Even if she could hardly keep her mind on her own business and her opinions to herself.
The rich earth turned over beneath her hoe as Annie worked her way down the row of tomato plants. Her gloves, trousers and shirt were a little big—better suited for a man. Her wide brimmed straw hat protected her face from the sun. But nothing kept the sound from assaulting her ears.
The baby.
Annie’s gaze drifted to the rear of the big white house that belonged to Josh Ingalls, her employer. Windows stood open, letting the gentle breeze cool the interior. Curtains billowed. And the heart-wrenching cries of the baby floated out.
“Mind your own business,” Annie mumbled again, turning her back to the house.
She’d worked here only three days, and for the last two she’d heard the baby cry endlessly. It took all Annie’s strength to keep from marching up to the house and demanding to know why no one was caring for the child, to keep from pushing her way inside and tending to the little thing herself.
But she didn’t dare. She needed this job. Desperately. If she lost it, who in the settlement would hire her? Already people were talking. Annie, her widowed mother and two sisters had moved here only weeks ago; gossip was spreading.
Annie gritted her teeth and turned back to her chore. If Josh Ingalls wanted to run his home this way, allow his baby to cry, it was his business. Certainly not hers. And certainly not her place to criticize.
She stopped suddenly and swept a trickle of sweat from her temple. Maybe Mr. Ingalls didn’t know. He spent his days, sunup to sundown—and then some—out in his fields, overseeing the work. At least, that’s what she’d heard. Most everyone Annie had met was more than anxious to talk about the elusive Josh Ingalls.
He was handsome, they’d said. Annie couldn’t confirm or deny that opinion. She had yet to lay eyes on the man.
Wealthy, they’d also said. From the looks of the fine home, the tended grounds, the orchards, gardens, and hundreds of acres of crops, Annie didn’t doubt it.
But the juiciest piece of gossip was about his marital status. A widower, they’d said. His wife dead for months now.
Which meant the handsome, wealthy Josh Ingalls was available.
Annie snorted and attacked the weeds with renewed vigor as she imagined all the young, single women in the settlement dressed in their finery, parading in front of him, vying for his attention. While at nineteen years old she was certainly the right age, and could have been just as attractive as any other girl, Annie wasn’t interested. She was more comfortable in trousers than fancy dresses, layers of petticoats, corsets and hoops.
With her gloved hand, Annie tucked away a stray lock of her blond hair. She wasn’t beautiful. She was tall—too tall for a woman, with not near enough curves, her mother often lamented. But Annie contented herself with knowing that her looks made her passably acceptable. No one gasped and turned away at the sight of her, small dogs didn’t bark and children didn’t cry out with fright.
Unlike most all the other young women in the settlement, Annie didn’t think Josh Ingalls was much of a catch, despite his supposed good looks and wealth. Not considering the passel of children that came with him.
Three, besides the baby. Annie had seen them running wild over the farm. Everyone said they were a handful. Annie believed that rumor without question.
She’d seen the children occasionally. Two girls, ages eight and four, she guessed, with a boy sandwiched between, running through the corn rows, chasing the chickens, always creating mischief. Small wonder Mr. Ingalls couldn’t keep a nanny.
All the children needed was a firm hand, Annie decided as she worked. A firm hand and a—
“Mind your own business,” she muttered again. “Mind your own business before you—oh!”
Annie grabbed her bottom. Something had stung her on the backside. A wasp? A bee, maybe?
Giggles drifted across the garden. She whirled and saw the three Ingalls children peeking at her through the cornstalks. Peeking, laughing, pointing—and holding a slingshot.
“You shot me!” she exclaimed.
The boy raised the slingshot, taking aim at her again. Anger zipped through Annie. She threw down her hoe, yanked off her gloves and took off after them. The children—completely taken by surprise—squealed and raced away.
They were small and quick, but Annie was mad. She chased them down the rows until they broke free into the meadow. Easily she passed the youngest child, left behind by the older two. Arms and legs churning, Annie pursued them down the hill to the edge of the woods.
She caught them both by the backs of their shirts and yanked them to a stop. The girl screamed. The boy tried to dart away, but Annie scooped him up under her arm and grabbed the girl’s wrist.
“Be still!” Annie commanded.
They didn’t, of course. A new cry joined their wails. Annie saw the youngest girl standing nearby, unsure of what to do.
“Run, Cassie, run!” the oldest girl shouted. “Run and hide!”
“Come over here!” Annie told her.
“No! Don’t!” the boy called, squirming. “Run away! Run fast!”
Annie gave him a shake. “Be still! All of you!”
The children stared up at her, their eyes wide and their mouths open. This, surely, was not the response they’d expected when they’d picked Annie for slingshot target practice. They quieted.
“All right, that’s better. Now, come here.” Annie led the oldest girl to the shade of the trees. “Sit.” When she did, Annie dropped the boy beside her. The youngest girl darted to her brother and sister and squeezed between them.
Annie stood over the three children, catching her breath. All had brown eyes and dark hair, the girls with long braids, the boy with bangs that would need trimming soon. Dirt smudged their faces. The girls’ dresses were soiled; the boy’s skinny knee showed through a rip in his trousers.
Grimy, disheveled, unkempt. Still, they were beautiful children. It would have been hard to be angry at them if Annie’s backside didn’t hurt so much.
She bent down and yanked the slingshot from the boy’s hand. “What’s your name?”
His bottom lip poked out. “Drew.”
“This is dangerous,” Annie said, shaking the slingshot at him. “It’s not a play toy. Why did you shoot me with it?”
He shrugged his little shoulders and looked away. “I don’t know.”
Annie turned to the oldest girl. “What’s your name?”
“Ginny,” she told her, looking her straight in the eye. “And we did it because we wanted to. That’s why. Because we wanted to.”
“Well, you can’t do that,” Annie declared.
Little Cassie whimpered and snuggled closer to Ginny, ducking her head.
“Don’t yell,” Ginny told Annie as she looped her arm around her little sister. “Cassie gets scared when people yell.”
Annie shoved the slingshot into her back pocket, beginning to feel like a brute towering over the children. Seated quietly on the ground, gazing up at her attentively, they looked like innocent little angels. Annie’s anger faded.
“Well, all right, no real harm done, I suppose,” she said. “But you’re not to shoot at any living thing ever again. Not people, animals or birds. Nothing. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they chimed together.
“Good. Now—”
Hoofbeats pounded the ground behind her. Seeing the approaching rider, all three children scrambled to their feet. Cassie squealed and climbed straight up Annie’s leg into her arms. Annie spun around, pulling Ginny and Drew behind her, her heart racing. She was sure, from the looks on the children’s faces, that they were all about to be murdered.
The lone rider pulled his horse to a stop. The stallion tossed its head and pawed the ground.
“What’s going on here?” the man demanded.
Annie gulped. Good Lord, the man was huge—tall, with broad shoulders and a big chest. Seated atop the horse, he seemed to tower over them. Brown hair touched his collar. Dark eyes glared at her from beneath the brim of his hat.
“Well?” he demanded again. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”
Cassie squeezed Annie’s neck tighter. The other two children crowded closer behind her. Annie’s own fear turned to anger.
“I might ask you the same,” Annie declared, glaring up at him. “What business is it of yours?”
“I know,” Cassie whispered in her ear.
The man’s frown deepened.
Annie pushed her chin higher. “You’ve no business charging up like that, frightening the children. Who do you think you are?”
“I know,” Cassie said. “He’s our papa.”
Chapter Two
“He’s your…?”
“Papa,” Cassie said again.
Annie looked down at Ginny and Drew, who were peeking around her. They nodded.
She dared turn to the man again, withering beneath his harsh gaze. “You’re their…father?”
“I am.”
“Then that would make you…”
“Josh Ingalls.”
“Oh, dear.” Josh Ingalls. Her employer.
“What’s your name?” Josh demanded.
She gulped. “Annie. Annie Martin. I work here, tending the gardens.”
He looked at her long and hard. “I asked you what’s going on here.”
Cassie buried her face in Annie’s neck, holding on tighter. Ginny and Drew squeezed closer.
Certainly the man should know what his children had been up to. Shooting a person with a slingshot deserved punishment of some sort. But with the children cowering around her, Annie simply couldn’t bring herself to tell him what they’d done.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Mr. Ingalls,” Annie said.
His eyes narrowed. He knew she was lying.
“I objected to their behavior,” she said. “I told them so.”
Josh’s brows went up. “And?”
Annie gazed right back at him. “You needn’t worry yourself with the details, Mr. Ingalls. I handled the situation.” She dropped Cassie to the ground and urged the children away. “Run along, now.”
For an instant they stood there, glancing at their father, then at Annie. She gave Ginny a little push. “It’s all right. Go play.”
Ginny grabbed her sister’s hand and the three of them raced away.
Annie watched them go, feeling the relief she’d seen in their little faces. Feeling, also, the heat of Josh’s gaze on her back.
She took a breath and turned to him. He didn’t seem to notice her as he watched the children disappear into the corn rows. “Damn…for what I pay a nanny, you’d think I could keep one here.”
Josh stared after the children a while longer, then looked down at Annie. “Come up to the house. Now.”
He didn’t wait for her reply, just touched his heels to the horse’s sides and galloped away.
A numb silence hung in his wake. Not even leaves dared to rustle in the trees overhead. Annie stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.
He was going to fire her.
Only a short while ago, everything had—finally—started to look up for her. She had a job she liked. She could help provide for her family.
She could save her little sister.
Annie’s stomach twisted into a knot. Of all the things that troubled her, that one was the worst.
Now, like everything else in her future, it was all gone. Simply because she couldn’t mind her own business.
Josh Ingalls would fire her. She was sure of it. And why shouldn’t he? After the way she’d spoken to him, the way she’d taken it upon herself to discipline his children.
It was none of her business. None at all.
With a heavy sigh, Annie headed toward the house. As she passed the garden, three little faces peeked out through the cornstalks.
“You’re gonna get it,” Drew predicted grimly.
“Get it good,” Ginny agreed solemnly.
Cassie nodded wisely.
Annie drew in a breath, shaking off the fear humming in her veins. “I’m sure your father simply wants to discuss something with me.”
The three children shared a skeptical look and shook their heads gravely.
Annie squared her shoulders and marched on toward the house.
“Wait!” Ginny ran after her and tugged her sleeve. “Are you going to tell Papa what we did? With the slingshot?”
Gazing down at the three frightened faces, Annie still couldn’t bring herself to tell their papa what they’d done.
“What happened is between us,” she told the children. “It’s our business. No one else’s.”
“That means you ain’t gonna tell?” Drew asked.
Annie smiled. “That’s exactly what it means.”
His eyes widened. “Truly? You ain’t gonna tell on us?”
“Truly,” Annie said.
Instead of a thank-you, or even a smile, Drew stuck out his tongue at her. Ginny grabbed little Cassie’s hand and they all ran away.
For a moment, Annie considered running after them. Escape. It certainly seemed preferable to what lay ahead of her at Mr. Ingalls’s house.
Annie trudged on. The house came into view. She imagined Josh Ingalls inside at this very moment, telling his foreman to find someone else to tend the gardens.
Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that Josh Ingalls was also looking for a nanny.
Her footsteps slowed as her mind spun. Annie had seen the last nanny leave two days ago. What was it Josh had said in the meadow just now? Something about how much he paid his nanny?
Money. Annie’s heart beat faster. She needed money for her family. If a nanny earned more than a farm worker, maybe she could—
At the rain barrel at the corner of the cookhouse, Annie pushed her straw hat off, letting it dangle against her back, and washed her face and hands. She did her best to brush the dust and dirt from her clothes.
Gracious, she hardly looked fit to enter such a fine home, especially now when she desperately needed to make a good impression. Now, with this great idea bubbling in her mind.
Annie hurried up the back steps. A woman blocked the door—tall, thin, with her dark hair streaked with gray and drawn back in a severe bun. She wore a black dress and a frown.
Mrs. Flanders, surely. Annie had never met the woman, but the other field workers she’d talked to here at the Ingalls farm had spoken of her. She ran the house.
“Miss Martin?” she asked, looking her up and down.
Annie managed a nod, feeling all the more out of place in her plain clothing.
“Follow me,” Mrs. Flanders instructed.
Trailing her through the house, Annie found her heart thumping in her chest. Thick carpets with intricate designs lay on the floors. Graceful furniture with carved arms and legs filled the rooms, along with framed paintings, delicate lanterns and figurines. Everything was elegant and pristine.
Except for Annie. She glanced behind her, fearful she’d tracked dirt on the floor.
At the end of a long hallway, Mrs. Flanders motioned for her to stop, stuck her head inside double doors, then turned to Annie once more.
“You may go in,” she said, her lips curling downward in a disapproving scowl. “Don’t touch anything.”
Anger sparked in Annie as the woman disappeared down the hall. Certainly, her clothing was soiled. But that was because she’d been working in the garden, doing the job she was hired to do. And, yes, she was a plain and simple young woman. But that made her no less a good person. Regardless of how the housekeeper looked down on her.
Regardless of what the gossips said.
“Miss Martin?” Josh Ingalls’s voice boomed from inside the room.
Annie’s shoulders straightened. The man could fire her if he chose. But she wouldn’t run away like a whipped dog. She’d have the satisfaction of speaking her mind. And maybe, just maybe, she’d come away with a better job.
Annie stepped into the room. Dark carpets covered the floor. Leather-bound books filled one wall. A moose head with antlers hung above the fireplace. A gigantic desk dominated the center of the room. Josh Ingalls sat behind it.
“Come in,” he said impatiently, shuffling papers on the desk.
He’d taken off his hat, and Annie saw that his hair was thick and dark, the same color as the children’s. For once, it seemed, the rumors were true. Josh Ingalls was a handsome man, with a strong jaw, straight nose and clear brown eyes. He looked even bigger seated behind his desk than he had atop his horse.
His white shirt was open at the collar, revealing a slice of deeply tanned skin—like his face—and black, curling chest hair. Even after being in the fields all morning, he looked clean and crisp.
Annie glanced down at her fingernails, then curled her hands behind her.
He made a spinning motion with his hand, urging her closer to his desk as he opened drawers, searching for something.
“When I ask a question, Miss Martin, I expect an answer. A complete answer, not simply what you choose to tell me,” Josh said. “So I’ll ask one last time. What went on out there with those children?”
“Your children, do you mean?” she asked, and stopped in front of his desk.
His gaze came up and he ceased rifling through the drawers. “Yes. My…children.”
“I don’t know what type of nanny you’re used to, Mr. Ingalls, but when I see a situation that needs addressing, I handle it. That’s what happened with your children,” Annie told him. “If I overstepped my boundaries, I apologize. But I see no need for you to concern yourself further. Surely you have more important matters to attend to.”
He blinked at her, taken aback by what she’d said. Apparently, Josh Ingalls wasn’t used to being spoken to in that manner. Annie held her breath.
He shrugged and started going through the drawers again. “That’s for damn sure,” he muttered. “I’ve searched the settlement, written to agencies all the way to the East Coast, everything. Why should it be such a monumental task to get and keep a nanny?”
“Perhaps you’re not looking in the right place,” Annie offered. “Or for the right sort of person.”
He glared at her now, clearly not pleased at her criticism. “For your information, Miss Martin, the women I hire as nannies are quite competent.”
“Including the last one?”
“Of course.”
“The one I saw running from the house two days ago, screaming and tearing at her hair?”
Josh looked away. “She—she took the job for the wrong reason.”
“My point exactly,” Annie said. “I’m aware of what those reasons are, Mr. Ingalls. You’re wealthy. The Ingalls name is to be envied. You, personally, are the talk of the settlement. Women find you attractive and are captivated by the size of your…”
Josh’s brows rose. He leaned forward slightly. “The size of my…?”
“House,” Annie told him.
A tense, awkward moment passed while they simply looked at each other. A strange warmth pooled inside Annie. Josh seemed to look at her—and really see her—for the first time. Then he swallowed hard and yanked open the bottom drawer.
Annie rushed ahead. “Anyway, unlike all the other young women in the settlement, Mr. Ingalls, I’m only interested in the welfare of your children. That’s why I’d make a perfect nanny.”
Josh pulled a ledger from the drawer. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she declared, standing straighter.
“You’ve had experience as a nanny?”
To tell him the truth would end all chances of her getting the job—and the increase in her pay.
“Certainly,” Annie said. Surely having two younger sisters and tending an endless number of nieces, nephews and cousins qualified her to look after small children—even the unruly Ingalls children.
He sank further into his chair, studying her at his leisure. Annie felt her skin heat and tried desperately to think of something else to say.
“Tell me about yourself, Miss Martin,” Josh said at long last. “You and your family.”
A cold chill passed through Annie. Her and her family. Why hadn’t she thought ahead enough to realize he’d want this information? Why had she even come in here and asked for the job?
Then it occurred to Annie that if he was asking, that meant he didn’t already know. But how could that be? How could he not have heard about her and her family? Was it possible the gossip hadn’t spread to the Ingalls farm?
Apparently, it hadn’t.
“My mother was widowed several years ago,” Annie said, choosing her words carefully. “We moved here a few weeks ago to live with my cousin. My cousin is Angus Martin. He owns the farm that adjoins your property just down the road. Have…have you heard of my family, Mr. Ingalls?”
Josh simply waved his hand, anxious, it seemed, to get on to other matters. No, apparently, he didn’t know about her family—or at least, what was being said about them. Annie heaved a quiet sigh of relief.
“I know Angus Martin. Good man,” Josh said, as if that were enough. He considered her again. “And you have no interest here but that of the children?”
“Just your children,” Annie said. The children and the salary that came with them.
“All right, you’re the new nanny.”
Annie’s eyes widened. Had he just declared her the children’s nanny? Had she heard him correctly?
“You start immediately. Go find Mrs. Flanders and tell her I said so.” Josh flipped the ledger open, sparing her a glance. “That’s all.”
She’d come here thinking she was about to be fired, and somehow she’d ended up the nanny—to the worst-behaved children in the settlement.
“If I could ask, Mr. Ingalls, about the wages?”
He scribbled in his ledger, then flipped it around for her to see. “I trust this will be adequate compensation, Miss Martin?”
Annie’s knees nearly gave out as she gazed at the salary he’d written beside her name. More money than she’d ever imagined!
The future opened up to her, full and blessed. Now she could help her mother with expenses. And her youngest sister—she’d make everything happen for her.
All that money, for simply taking care of children. True, Annie didn’t know much about children, but it couldn’t be very difficult. Even the wild Ingalls brood.
“Provided, of course, that you do a good job,” Josh told her.
Annie’s enthusiasm cooled a little. “No need to concern yourself, Mr. Ingalls.”
“So, we have a deal?”
Annie opened her mouth to agree, but the words wouldn’t come out. At that moment, gazing at Josh, something inside her warned her away. It was dangerous here in the Ingalls home…with Josh Ingalls. Not on a physical level. It was something different. Something deeper. Something she couldn’t reason out, could only sense.
Josh rubbed his forehead. “Miss Martin, I don’t have all day to wait around for your answer.”
Would she be a fool to turn down such a generous offer? Or a fool to accept?
Annie didn’t know for sure. Thoughts, odd feelings, ricocheted through her. But in the end, her family—her sister—made up her mind.
“Very well, Mr. Ingalls,” she said. “I’ll accept the position as nanny.”
Josh rose from his desk and waved his hand at her vaguely. “Go home and get whatever you need. I’ll send a wagon with you for your things.”
“My things?”
“Of course. You’ll be living here from now on.”
“Living here?” A hot surge shot through Annie. “Here?”
“Is that a problem?” The tiniest hint of a grin tugged at Josh’s lips. “Does the size of my…house…frighten you?”
Heat crept up Annie’s neck and bloomed in her cheeks. Josh seemed as stunned as she by what he’d said. He turned abruptly and left the room.
Annie sagged against his desk. Leave her home? Her family? Move here? With Josh Ingalls? And all those unruly children?
Good gracious, what had she gotten herself into?
Chapter Three
“You’re going to live there? Really? Oh, how exciting!”
“Yes…exciting.” Annie managed to put some enthusiasm into her words for the benefit of her younger sister. At age thirteen, Camille still viewed life as an adventure, of sorts, even after all their family had been through these past few years.
Camille perched on the edge of the feather mattress in the small bedroom all three sisters shared in their cousin’s house.
“Tell me what it’s like,” she said. “The Ingalls house, I mean. Is it as beautiful as everyone says? I’ll bet there’s a library.”
Scooping clothes from the bureau and placing them in her trunk, Annie smiled. “Oh, Camille, you should see.”
She sprang from the bed. “Could I? Do you think? Could I come over sometime?”
Annie considered it for a moment. As an employee in the Ingalls house, she would be allowed to have a guest occasionally, wouldn’t she? She wasn’t sure. She’d never worked at this sort of job before, never known anyone who had.
“I don’t see why not,” Annie finally told her.
“What did Mama say about your job?” Camille asked. “Did you tell her?”
“I tried,” Annie said, glancing away.
Camille eased onto the bed again. “She’s having another of her bad days.”
Bad days for Sophia Martin came more and more frequently as time went on. Annie’s mother had never been a strong woman, but she’d held up well enough until their father died. Shortly thereafter, the money he’d left them had run out, forcing them from the home she’d loved so much, leaving them to move from relative to relative, to anyone who would take them in, and Sophia had bounced from good to ill health regularly.
Angus Martin, a widower, their father’s cousin, had taken them into his home just weeks ago, after corresponding with Sophia. He’d been agreeable enough with the arrangement—free room and board for the four of them in exchange for cooking, cleaning and running his house while he tended his farm.
All of that had changed the minute they arrived and he got a look at Willa, Sophia’s middle daughter. Now he barely spoke to any of them, and Sophia had taken to her bed more and more often.
“You’re only taking one dress?” Camille asked.
Annie eyed the blue gingham gown she’d pulled from the wardrobe cupboard. She only owned three, and this was her favorite, though she seldom wore any of them.
“For church on Sunday,” Annie said.
“Won’t you wear a dress all the time in your new job?” Camille asked.
Annie glanced down at the clean trousers and shirt she’d just changed into. Josh Ingalls had hired her in these clothes, so surely it was all right if she wore them.
“Here, take all of them, just in case.” Camille pulled the other two from the wardrobe cupboard, then glanced at those left behind. “You could try to alter Willa’s dresses and take them, too. She won’t be needing them for a while still.”
Annie shook her head. Willa’s dresses didn’t have enough hem to accommodate Annie’s height, but that wasn’t the reason she wouldn’t take her sister’s clothes.
“It will just make her cry,” Annie said.
“Again,” Camille said, not unkindly. “Everything makes her cry.”
Annie couldn’t blame her sister for crying all the time. She was pregnant, after all. Pregnant, sixteen years old and not married.
Willa would have been married, probably, if Evan Keller’s parents hadn’t turned up their noses at the idea of their son being interested in someone with such limited financial resources. They had bigger and better things planned for their boy, and had whisked him away on an extended trip in the East.
Two months later, when Willa realized she was pregnant, there had still been no word from Evan. Shocked and humiliated, Sophia had arranged for them to move here with their cousin Angus, far away from the scandal. They hadn’t escaped it, though. The talk had started soon after their arrival. Whispers, at first, then rumors. Angus’s attitude hadn’t helped anything.
“I’ll miss you, Annie,” Camille said.
Annie threw her arms around her little sister. She hated leaving her behind, leaving her alone to manage the house, their mother, their sister and their cousin. But, even at so young an age, Camille was a strong girl, with the ability to let most of life’s problems roll off her. She found escape in endless hours of reading.
“I have a surprise for you,” Annie said, stepping back. “I wasn’t going to tell you for a while yet, until I was positive I could manage. But now that I have this new job and I’m making more money, well, I don’t see a reason to wait.”
Annie dropped to her knees beside the chest in the corner. It contained the few family treasures they hadn’t sold off or bartered away. She dug to the bottom and pulled out a pamphlet.
“The Hayden Academy for Young Women,” Annie announced. “You’ll attend in the fall.”
Camille just stared at the pamphlet for a moment, then finally took it, holding it by the edges. “A school? In Richmond?”
Grinning, Annie nodded.
She frowned. “Oh, Annie, it’s not one of those schools where all you learn is how to pour tea and curtsy properly, is it?”
“No, silly. It’s a real school where they teach mathematics and literature. All the things you’re interested in.”
Camille shook her head. “But how? We can’t afford this.”
“I’ve corresponded with the head mistress and explained our situation. She agreed to let me pay your tuition a little at a time,” Annie said. “But since I’m the Ingallses’ nanny now, I can pay for it easily.”
“Really?” Camille looked longingly at the pamphlet, then at her sister. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh!” Camille threw her arms around Annie and hugged her hard, then gasped. “I have so much to do to get ready. I’ll find the schoolteacher here and see if I can borrow some books. Maybe she can tutor me.”
Seeing the excitement on Camille’s face pleased Annie no end. Her sister had always been a studious girl, and deserved to go to a good school. But Annie had been motivated to send her by something more.
There was no need for Camille, too, to endure the scandal of Willa’s pregnancy. That’s why Annie had picked a school in Virginia, far away from Wisconsin. True, there were many good schools closer, but with the great distance, the gossip wouldn’t likely follow her.
A little shudder passed through Annie, and she said a quick prayer that Josh wouldn’t hear of the scandal himself. Surely, it would jeopardize her job as nanny to his children. And if he fired her, how would she pay Camille’s future tuition and school expenses?
“I’d better go,” Annie said, aware suddenly of how long she’d taken to pack. A driver and wagon belonging to Josh waited out front for her.
“I’ll come by to see you in a few days,” Camille said, helping to carry her things through the house, “if that’s all right.”
“Let me know if there’re any problems here,” Annie said, though she couldn’t imagine there wouldn’t be, what with Willa, their mother and cousin the way they were. “Any problems you can’t handle, that is.”
As the driver loaded her things in the wagon, Annie went to her mother’s room, hoping to tell her goodbye. But, as usual, she was sleeping; Annie didn’t wake her.
Since Willa spent most of her time walking through the fields, and Angus was working, there was no one but Camille to share a farewell as Annie climbed up on the wagon. They pulled away and she turned on the seat, looking back. Camille, her smile radiant, waved from the porch.
Gradually, the house faded in the distance. Beside Annie sat a strange man. Ahead of her, a new life and—
Josh Ingalls.
She crossed her arms over her middle, the early evening air suddenly feeling cool. Of all the aspects of her new life that awaited her, why had Josh floated into her mind?
And why did those thoughts make her stomach feel so funny?
She shook them away. There was only one reason for her to be at the Ingalls house and that was to take care of the children. They should be on her mind right now, she admonished herself.
Of course, for her to keep her job, Josh would have to be happy with the way she cared for his children. She’d have to please him as well as them.
Annie shook away the thought. Managing four youngsters was no great feat. Goodness, they were only children.
Supper should be served by the time she arrived at the Ingalls house. As the wagon bumped along, Annie imagined sitting in the grand dining room she’d glimpsed today, having supper with Josh and the children.
A family. Dining together, talking, catching up on each other’s news, hearing about the day.
Annie’s own family had been that way, a long time ago before her father died. Back then, meals together had been warm and comforting.
A little smile pulled at Annie’s lips and she found herself looking forward to arriving at the Ingalls home. Her sisters and mother hadn’t acted like a real family in a very long time. She liked the idea of being part of one again, even if she was simply the hired help.
What the devil was taking her so long?
Josh peered out the window of his study as evening shadows stretched across the road leading to his farm. There was no sign of the wagon.
No sign of her.
Annoyed, Josh turned away, eyeing the ledgers on his desk. He had book work to do and that’s what he should be thinking about.
Not her.
He pushed his fingers through his hair. Why was this woman, this Miss Annie Martin, suddenly consuming his thoughts?
Because she was taking the responsibility of those children, Josh decided. Yes, that was it.
As nanny, she was relieving him of a great burden, freeing him to devote himself to things that were important. Leaving him to concentrate on…
How pretty she was. How her blue eyes sparkled. How even in those trousers she wore, her curves were apparent. How she—
“Good God…” Josh turned away, stunned by his own thoughts and his body’s reaction to them. Fire flickered in him, unleashing a yearning he hadn’t experienced since—
His wife died? Or was it even before that?
The baby was eight months old now. Lydia, eight months dead.
In all the time since that dreadful night, Josh had had few thoughts of women. He’d thrown himself into his work on the farm, pushing himself harder and harder, guaranteeing that at day’s end he fell exhausted into bed and a dreamless sleep.
His life suited him. He didn’t want it changed. And he certainly didn’t want Annie Martin to be the one who changed it.
She’d insisted she was interested solely in the position of nanny, unlike so many of the women he’d employed in the past eight months. Women who had spent more time pursuing him than caring for the children.
Good. That’s what he wanted.
Josh sank into his desk chair once more. When he’d first seen Annie in the meadow today, she’d caught his eye. Then he’d realized she was disciplining the children. She’d offered herself for the position of nanny before he’d had a chance to ask. That’s exactly what he’d intended to do when he’d told her to come up to the house.
Josh raked his fingers through his hair, forcing his attention to the ledger open in front of him.
A nanny was what he had. A nanny was all he wanted.
Chapter Four
Mrs. Flanders scowled from the back door when the wagon bearing Annie and her belongings arrived. She directed the driver to take Annie’s things upstairs, to wipe his feet, to step carefully, to not dare knock anything over. By the time she turned her attention to Annie, her scowl had somehow deepened.
Mrs. Flanders’s lips turned down as she looked Annie over. “Don’t you know how to dress? Do you think you’re still working in the fields, girl?”
Annie’s cheeks flushed and she ran her hands down the rough fabric of her shirt. “Well, no, but—”
“Get on in there and see to those children and their supper.” Mrs. Flanders turned on her toes with a huff, leaving Annie standing in the doorway.
She glanced around. No one else was about—no one to tell her anything further, or give any more direction. Certainly no one to welcome her to the Ingalls home. So she struck out on her own.
Annie ventured into the house toward the dining room she’d seen earlier today. Still she saw no one. The only sound was a clock ticking somewhere.
Four children having supper and it was this quiet? Annie smiled to herself. It seemed the Ingalls brood minded their manners while inside; only outdoors did they behave like wild animals.
But when she entered the dining room, Annie saw but one person seated there. Josh.
He sat at the head of the table, eating from blue china, reading a newspaper. The rest of the table, which seated twelve, was empty. A crystal chandelier hung overhead; a sideboard sat against one wall, along with glass cupboards full of delicate china sparkling in the light. There was a fireplace with a beveled mirror above it, and a silver tea service on a cart in the corner.
Josh ate in silence, so absorbed in his reading he didn’t notice her standing there.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ingalls?” Annie said.
He jumped. When he saw her, his chest swelled, and she could have sworn his cheeks deepened in color, causing an odd knot to twist in the pit of her stomach.
“Where are the children, Mr. Ingalls?” she asked, surprised that her voice sounded so soft.
He looked at her as if she’d spoken some foreign language. “Children?”
“Yes, sir. The children. Your children.” She gestured with her hands, encompassing the room. “Have they finished their supper already?”
He gazed at her a while longer, trying, it seemed, to make some sense of her question. Or was it something else? The way he looked at her made her stomach flutter.
Finally, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “They don’t eat in here.”
“Oh.” When he said nothing further, Annie asked, “Where do they eat?”
He looked lost again, as if he’d forgotten the question as quickly as she’d asked it. “They, ah, they eat in the cookhouse.”
“The cookhouse?”
He shifted in his chair, forcing a frown. “I’m not certain how satisfactory a nanny you’ll be, Miss Martin, if you can’t even find the children.”
A wisp of anger twirled through Annie, and she was certain it showed in her face. She forced it away. “Very well.”
The cookhouse was attached to the main house by a short, enclosed passageway, which Annie located by following her nose. Delicious smells drew her to the rear of the house and down three steps to the stone walk.
Inside the cookhouse a massive open hearth covered the far wall. A cookstove sat near it along with two worktables, rows of cupboards, and hanging pots and pans. A white-haired woman in an apron—most likely the cook—and two young girls—her assistants, probably—busied themselves chopping vegetables at one of the worktables. They glanced up only briefly when Annie walked in, then went back to their chores.
Near the entrance, the three older Ingalls children sat by themselves at a round table in the corner. Only Cassie ate. As if she were starving, she held her plate to her mouth, raking in the food. Drew sat with his feet tucked under him on his chair, waving his fork around as if it were a bird. Ginny’s elbow was firmly planted on the table, her cheek resting on her palm, and she was dragging her spoon listlessly through her potatoes and peas. Annie had no idea where the baby was or who was minding it.
She drew in a breath. Well, this certainly wasn’t the picture of family closeness she’d expected.
“Hello, children,” she said.
They all looked at her, then at each other.
“What are you doing here?” Drew asked.
“Didn’t your father tell you?” Annie asked, annoyed that Josh hadn’t informed the children she’d been hired. “I’m your new nanny.”
Drew sprang to his knees in the chair. “We don’t need no nanny.”
“We can take care of ourselves just fine,” Ginny informed her.
“Yeah,” Drew said. “Go away!”
“Yeah!” Ginny echoed.
“We don’t want you here!” Drew said.
“Now, just a minute,” Annie said calmly. “I’m sure that if you’ll—”
Drew turned his plate over in the center of the table. Cassie screamed.
“Stop that!” Annie reached across the table to grab Drew as he snatched Cassie’s plate away. She screamed again. He dumped the food on the table.
“I said stop that!” Annie insisted.
Ginny poured her cup of milk in the mess and started screaming, too. Cassie stood straight up in her chair, stomping her feet, wailing at the top of her lungs.
“I said, don’t—” A gob of food hit Annie’s cheek. “Stop it! All of you! This instant!”
Drew dived for Cassie’s milk. Annie swooped across the table and grabbed it first.
“No!” she shouted, and jerked it out of his grasp.
“What the devil is going on in here?” Josh’s voice boomed.
Annie whirled, flinging milk up his shirt and across his face.
Everyone froze. Dead silence fell. Annie gasped and covered her mouth. The children stilled like little stone statues.
Josh just stood there for a moment, milk dripping from his chin, soaking into his shirt, trickling down his trousers. Then calmly—too calmly—he turned to Annie.
“May I speak with you for a moment, Miss Martin?”
Not waiting for an answer, he stomped up the stairs, wiping his face with his shirtsleeve. Annie gulped, wiped the food from her cheek with a napkin and hurried after him, following him through the house and into his study.
“What the hell was that all about?” Josh demanded, flinging his arm in the direction of the cookhouse. “Is that your idea of taking care of those children? I hired you to make sure things like that don’t happen. What the devil were you thinking?”
“Stop shouting at me!” Annie clenched her fists at her sides.
His nostrils flared. “I don’t need a nanny who will not see to it that—”
“You’re right, you don’t need me! I suggest you send for Reverend Simon, because you don’t need a nanny for those children, Mr. Ingalls. You need a miracle!”
Josh’s mouth hung open for a few seconds, then snapped shut. Heat arced from him, coiling deeply inside Annie. He leaned forward. She did the same. Her breathing stopped. Her breasts ached to brush his wide chest. The expression in his eyes deepened, and a peculiar longing covered Annie like a hot, woolen blanket.
She froze. Good gracious, was he going to kiss her?
Good gracious, did she want him to?
Caught in the web they’d somehow spun, they stood like that for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, heat bouncing back and forth between them.
Josh came to his senses first. He turned away suddenly. Annie gulped and backed up a few steps, trying to will her heart to stop its hammering.
“Perhaps…” Josh said, his back to her. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Perhaps I didn’t explain things clearly, Miss Martin. About the children. About how I want things done.”
He walked to the bookcase, searched up and down, then pulled a volume from the shelf. “This should clarify things.”
Annie took the book, grateful for something to focus on besides him and the beating of her heart. She read the cover aloud. “How to Raise a Productive Child by Dr. Solomon Matthews. A book on child rearing?”
“My…wife…sent for it.” Josh glanced out the window, as if that somehow gave him strength. He pulled in a big breath, pushing ahead. “The finest minds in the world have laid down exact instructions on how children should be raised. All their wisdom has been carefully committed to this volume.”
Annie opened the book and flipped through the pages, scanning several.
She frowned up at him. “You want your children to march about the house? While I keep time by clapping my hands?” It took all her willpower not to add, “Have you lost your mind?”
“What I want, Miss Martin, is order,” he told her. “I want discipline. I want calm and quiet in my home.”
“But—”
“That’s what I want. That’s what I’ll have,” Josh said. “Or I’ll find myself another nanny.”
He didn’t wait for her answer, just gave her a curt nod and left the room.
Annie watched his big back disappear out the door, heat and energy swirling in his wake.
Order and discipline? The children weren’t the only ones in the Ingalls household who needed it.
Chapter Five
By the time Annie returned to the cookhouse, the children were gone, and Mrs. Royce, the cook, was busy cleaning up the mess they’d left.
“I’m truly sorry about this,” Annie said, motioning to the table.
The white-haired woman shrugged, as if she’d seen worse. “Not to worry.”
Annie found a broom and swept the floor beneath the table while Mrs. Royce wiped everything down. Annie felt the cook’s helpers staring at her from across the room. Surely they considered her a failure at her new job already; really, she couldn’t blame them.
“Do the children eat all their meals in here?” she asked.
“That they do,” Mrs. Royce said wearily.
“Have they always? I mean, before…?”
“Before their mother died, do you mean? Of course.” Mrs. Royce shook her head. “That’s the way it’s done, don’t you see?”
“And that was all right with Mr. Ingalls? Even after his wife died?”
“Not my place to ask,” Mrs. Royce told her.
Josh didn’t want to eat with his children? How odd.
“The children went upstairs,” Mrs. Royce said, saving Annie the embarrassment of having to ask where her charges were. She smiled her thanks and took the back stairway to the second floor.
A number of bedrooms opened off the wide, central hallway. The main staircase stood in the middle, and double doors opened at each end of the hall to large balconies on the front and rear of the house. Light spilled into the hallway from a room at the end.
Stepping into the doorway, Annie saw the three Ingalls children dressed in white nightshirts. Ginny and Cassie sat together on one bed, and Drew bounced on his knees on the other.
Three formidable enemies? The thought skittered through Annie’s mind. Or three little means to get the money she needed?
Annie took a breath. No. Neither. They were just children. Children whom she wasn’t going to let get the best of her. Certainly not on her very first day as their nanny.
“Ready for bed, I see,” Annie said briskly, coming inside their room.
The children quieted, sharing glances with each other.
Annie tucked them under their covers. They’d gotten themselves ready for bed, but hadn’t washed. Dirty little feet and hands disappeared under the quilts.
She sighed to herself. Something to work on tomorrow.
“I’ll let your father know you’re in bed,” she said. “He’ll be in shortly.”
“We didn’t do nothing wrong,” Drew declared.
“He’s coming to tell you good-night, of course,” Annie said.
Cassie’s eyes rounded as she sprang up. “Papa’s coming? He is?”
“No, he’s not.” Ginny pushed her sister down on the pillow and threw Annie a contemptuous look. “He’s not coming, Cassie. Go to sleep.”
A little ache throbbed in Annie’s chest as Ginny pulled the covers over her sister. Josh didn’t see his children at bedtime, or at meals?
Suddenly, she wanted to take all three children in her arms, hold them tightly against her. She wanted to march downstairs and demand to know why Josh paid so little attention to his children.
But it wasn’t any of her business. Not really.
Not if she wanted to keep her job.
Ginny gathered Cassie close. Drew stuck out his tongue at Annie and rolled away.
“Well, good night,” Annie murmured.
“Hannah,” Ginny said, pointing to an open doorway at the rear of the room.
“Hannah?” Annie asked.
Ginny huffed irritably. “The baby.”
“Oh. The baby. Yes, of course.” Annie blew out the lanterns and backed away.
The adjoining room was small, just big enough for a crib, bureau, washstand and rocker. There Annie found a young woman probably ten years older than herself, rocking a sleeping baby.
“I reckon you’re the new one, huh?” she asked, her Southern accent evident, though she spoke barely above a whisper. Her dark hair was pinned up and she wore the same gray dress and white apron as the cooks.
“Yes, I’m the new nanny,” Annie said.
The woman hoisted herself out of the chair, cradling the baby against her shoulder. “My name’s Georgia.”
Annie introduced herself. “Are you the one who looks after Hannah?”
“Doing the best I can since the last nanny left,” Georgia said. “That Mrs. Flanders—you met Mrs. Flanders yet?”
“Yes. Briefly.”
Georgia rolled her eyes, and Annie got the distinct feeling the two of them shared the same opinion of the woman who ran the Ingalls house.
“Well, that Mrs. Flanders, she don’t let me tend to little Hannah here, ’less it’s her feeding time. ’Cause, you see, I’m one of the maids and I’m not supposed to do nothing but my own chores.” Georgia tossed her head. “According to Mrs. Flanders, that is.”
“That’s why I heard the baby crying so much?” Annie asked. “Mrs. Flanders wouldn’t let you come in here and take care of her?”
“Yep. Like to broke my heart hearing her cry, I can tell you that. I’ve gotten right attached to this little thing.” Georgia laid the baby in the crib, then lingered for a moment, caressing her wisps of dark hair. “But, seeing as how I need this job, I didn’t have much of a choice other than to do like Mrs. Flanders said for me to do, even if it don’t set well with me.”
Annie nodded. “I can certainly understand that.”
Georgia reared back a bit, raising her brows and looking Annie up and down. “So you’re truly here just to take care of the children?”
“Of course. Why else?”
Georgia shrugged. “Well, it ain’t exactly some kind of a secret, but most of those other women who came here weren’t interested in doing nothing more than sniffing around after Mr. Ingalls.”
“They hoped to marry him?” Annie asked.
“Not that the man couldn’t use the benefit of a little female comfort, if you get my meaning. Especially after that wife of his. Lordy…” Georgia shook her head. “Well, Annie, it’s a pleasure to meet you and a pleasure to have you working here.”
“Thank you,” Annie said, glad to finally hear a kind word from someone in the Ingalls home.
“All I can say to you is good luck. You’re a-gonna be needing it.” Georgia stepped away from the crib. “I’d better get a-going. You’ve a room all to yourself, you know, right through that door. I tidied it up for you and unpacked your things. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Georgia.”
She gave Hannah a little pat on the back, then leaned closer to Annie. “You let me know if you’re needing any help with the baby here. Like I said, I’ve gotten right attached to her.”
After Georgia left the room, Annie watched the baby, thankful she was sleeping. She considered checking on the three older children, then changed her mind. They were quiet, and that was good enough. Tonight, at least.
She opened the adjoining door and found her bedroom. Annie fell back against the closed door, staring wide-eyed.
Soft light came from the lanterns beside the canopy bed and on the spacious bureau. There were two chests, a wardrobe, a writing desk and a washstand, all in rich mahogany. The coverlet was pale blue with tiny yellow-and-white flowers. Curtains were pristine white, and a floral rug of rich hues covered the floor.
Heavens, such a lovely bedroom. She’d never even had one of her own before—she’d always shared with her sisters. If she, the nanny, had so fine a room, what must the others be like?
A strange heat swelled inside Annie. Josh’s bedroom. What did it look like?
She gasped in the quiet room. Why had she even thought such a thing?
Quickly, she opened the wardrobe and found her three dresses hanging to one side, her one pair of good shoes resting at the bottom. Her apparel looked meager in the vast cupboard. The rest of her clothing took up only two drawers in the massive bureau.
Though her heart seemed to be beating faster than usual, Annie was tired. She’d have her hands full tomorrow with the children and—
The book. Annie gasped aloud in the silent room. She’d left the book Josh had given her in the study.
What if Josh found it there in the morning? He’d likely think she’d completely disregarded his instructions, blatantly defied him.
Would he fire her? He wasn’t all that happy with her already.
She had to retrieve that book.
Annie crept to the door and peeked into the hallway. No one was there; no cracks of light shone from under the other doors. Which room was Josh’s? she wondered.
And what was he doing in there? Annie’s thoughts meandered for a few seconds. Was he undressing? In bed already?
A little mewl slipped from Annie’s lips. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Goodness, such thoughts. She certainly had more pressing things to think about—such as keeping her job.
Annie listened, her ears straining. No sounds. It seemed everyone had retired for the night.
She hurried to the stairway and leaned over the railing. Faint light shone from below. Annie glanced around, then slipped down the steps.
At the landing, she paused, listened and hurried on.
Only the ticking of a clock sounded as she hurried through the house. Holding her breath, she peeked into the study. A lantern burned low on the desk. A book and some papers were spread out.
Josh was still up. He hadn’t retired for the evening as she’d thought.
He wasn’t at his desk at the moment, but surely he’d be back any second. Annie darted into the study. Where was the book? Where had she left it?
She spied it on a table near the fireplace, grabbed it and dashed to the door, reaching it just as Josh walked in.
He jerked to a stop not two steps away from her, splashing milk from the glass he carried. It spattered his shirt and chin.
He froze, letting the milk drip from his face, and drew in a big breath.
“Am I going to get doused with something every time I see you, Miss Martin?”
Annie cringed. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I wasn’t frightened,” he insisted, swiping at his chin with his shirtsleeve. “What the devil are you doing down here?”
Remembering the book, Annie looped her arm behind her, hiding it.
“Well? I asked you a question,” Josh said, setting the glass aside and frowning at her.
Instead of cowering, apologizing and begging for her job, as she probably should have, Annie felt her spine stiffen. “Mr. Ingalls, in the future I’ll thank you not to speak to me in that manner.”
His hand stilled on his shirt. But the outrage she’d seen budding in his expression melted as his gaze dipped, taking in her trousers and shirt, her braid hanging over her shoulder.
Annie’s skin burned, even through the fabric of her clothing, as his gaze raked her in a long, hot sweep. Her heart banged in her chest. Heat tingled in her cheeks.
Annie wished desperately she could think of something to say, wished her feet would move so she could run out of the room. But she could only stand there gazing at Josh, who seemed equally paralyzed.
Finally he pulled his gaze from her and looked around the room, wall to ceiling, floor to desk.
Annie lifted her hand to his face. “You have a little drop of milk on your…”
With her thumb, she wiped the droplet from his jaw. But, somehow, she couldn’t pull away. His flesh was hot, his beard rough. Heat spread up her hand, through her arm, warming her.
Their gazes met and held for an instant before Josh stepped back. “This is my private study,” he said softly. “No one comes in here without good reason.”
His words jarred Annie, reminding her why she’d come here in the first place. She knew she looked guilty because Josh’s eyes narrowed.
“What’s that behind you?” he asked, leaning sideways to see.
Caught dead to rights, she couldn’t claim, “nothing,” as her instincts screaming at her to do.
Annie pulled the book from behind her. Josh’s frown deepened.
“I was reading it, of course,” she told him.
He raised one eyebrow. “Of course.”
“And I wanted to look up a word in your dictionary,” Annie said, waving vaguely in the direction of the bookshelves.
His frown deepened as if he were judging whether or not her claim was believable. Finally, he stepped around her and went to his desk.
“The children are in bed,” Annie said. “Do you want to come up and tell them good-night?”
“No,” Josh said. He shuffled through the stacks of papers on his desk, not looking at her.
“You don’t tuck your children into bed at night?” Annie asked. “Why not?”
He looked up at her. “Because, Miss Martin, that is your job.”
Annie pondered his response while he continued to sort through his papers. “You don’t eat supper with them, or see them at bedtime. Why is that, Mr. Ingalls?”
Josh stopped fumbling with the papers and looked at her as if he didn’t understand why she’d ask such an odd thing. “Because that’s the way it’s done,” he explained simply. He turned back to his papers. “Good night, Miss Martin.”
He was dismissing her. Sending her on her way, telling her politely to mind her own business, reminding her of her place in his household. Annie wouldn’t let it go.
“But don’t you miss them?” she asked, taking a step closer.
Josh’s gaze came up quickly and landed on her with a force than shook her. Yet his expression wasn’t one of anger or irritation at her continued prying. Something else shone in his face.
Maybe it wasn’t his children he missed, Annie realized. Maybe it was his wife.
A knot jerked in Annie’s stomach. She should have kept her mouth shut. Should have minded her own business. Kept to her place.
He picked up a single sheet of paper, forcing his attention on it. “Good night, Miss Martin.”
Still Annie didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, to do something to make him feel better. The urge overwhelmed her.
But what could she possibly say?
“Good night,” she mumbled. At the door she looked back and saw Josh hunched over his desk; from the expression on his face she doubted he saw a single word written on the papers there.
As she climbed the stairs, Annie reminded herself that Josh’s feelings for his dead wife were none of her business. Yet, for some reason, her heart ached a little thinking he still grieved for her after all these months.
But what about his feelings for his children? Weren’t they her business?
Not if she wanted to keep her job.
At the top of the stairs, Annie peeked into the children’s room again. Three little bulges under the covers slept soundly. She checked on the baby, as well, and found Hannah sleeping.
In her room, Annie undressed, washed at the basin, and slipped into her pink nightgown. The cotton fabric seemed coarse, not nearly fancy enough for the room she’d been given. She sat in front of the mirror, unraveled her braid and combed out her hair.
As she climbed into bed, footsteps sounded in the hallway. Annie froze, pulling the quilt over her. Josh. The heavy, measured steps could only be his.
For an instant, Annie thought he stopped outside her door. She shook her head, sure it was her imagination. The footsteps faded and she heard a door down the hallway close softly.
With a sigh she leaned back on her pillows, relaxing on the feather mattress. The book on child rearing rested on her bedside table, and Annie considered reading it. Surely she’d need all the help she could get taming the Ingalls brood.
For her first day as nanny, things hadn’t gone so well, Annie was forced to admit. The children had rebelled at the sight of her. A food fight had erupted. She’d forgotten the book her employer had given her, invaded his private sanctum and splashed milk on him—not once but twice.
Annie settled deeper against the pillow, sure tomorrow would be a better day. After all, they were only children.
And tomorrow she’d do a better job of minding her own business. Somehow.
Chapter Six
Dressing like a girl took forever.
Annie lamented her decision as she closed the last fastener on her dress and turned to the mirror.
The green gown—her second favorite—looked nice, she decided, even if climbing into hoops, corset and petticoats took three times as long as dressing in her trousers. She’d coiled her hair atop her head, adding to the ordeal.
But she looked like a nanny, or at least what she guessed a nanny should look like. Mrs. Flanders certainly couldn’t peer down her nose at her when she got downstairs this morning.
Annie heard a voice in the room next door and found Georgia tending to little Hannah.
“Slept all night, did she?” Georgia asked as Annie walked in.
“Not a peep out of her.”
Georgia lifted Hannah into her arms; the baby yawned and stretched her chubby arms.
“I brought up her bottle for you,” Georgia said, nodding toward the table beside the rocker. “Mrs. Royce gets it ready first thing.”
“I’ll feed Hannah, then wake the other children,” Annie said. It seemed a reasonable, organized way to start her day, even if she hadn’t read it in a book.
Georgia shook her head. “They’re not in their room. I was just there.”
Annie was mildly surprised. “Oh. Well, then they’re having their breakfast already.”
Georgia uttered a short laugh. “I was just down there, and there’s not hide nor hair of those children anywhere in this house.”
Mild surprise edged toward panic. Her first full day as nanny and Annie didn’t even know where the children were.
She resisted the urge to utter a curse. “Could you start feeding Hannah while I check on the others? I don’t want to get you into trouble with Mrs. Flanders, but if you could just—”
“Oh, never mind about that Mrs. Flanders.” Georgia gave the baby a hug. “Me and little Miss Hannah know a few places to hide out where that cranky ol’ woman won’t never find us.”
“Thank you, Georgia. Thanks so much.” Annie hiked up her dress and rattled down the stairway.
“Miss Martin!”
Annie jerked to a stop in the downstairs hallway as Mrs. Flanders barked her name. Hands folded in front of her, the older woman stood in the center of the parlor, glaring at her.
Annie’s first instinct was to tell Mrs. Flanders she had no time for her, and to hurry on about her business. But Mrs. Flanders ran the house. Being rude to her wouldn’t improve her employment longevity.
“Yes?” Annie asked politely, forcing a smile, feigning interest.
“I want to make it clear to you, Miss Martin, that you are to take charge of the children. Georgia is no longer available to assist with them in any way.”
Annie pressed her lips together, sure Mrs. Flanders couldn’t possibly know that Georgia was taking care of the baby at this very moment.
“A proper nanny would know that,” Mrs. Flanders told her, indicating by her tone that Annie was just the opposite. Her lips turned down even more sharply. “I understand a girl of your…background…isn’t accustomed to living in a fine home such as this.”
Annie’s cheeks flushed in the face of yet another insult.
“Mrs. Ingalls devoted countless hours to decorating her home.” Mrs. Flanders waved her hand about the elegantly furnished parlor. “Do you recognize the workmanship of that cabinet, Miss Martin?”
Annie reined in her impatience to find the children, and eyed the mahogany cabinet with its slender tapering legs, carved feathers and oval, brass drawer handles. “Well…”
“Hepplewhite, the renowned cabinetmaker in London. Many of the tables in this house are Sheraton’s, also from London. The wallpaper? Imported from France. The finest crystal, china, silver and linens from Europe.” Mrs. Flanders drew herself up and looked pointedly at Annie’s dress. “Mrs. Ingalls’s clothing was made for her by the finest dressmakers in the East and abroad.”
Annie kept her chin up, fighting the instinct to explain her circumstances and shield her simple dress with her hands. Fighting, too, the instinct she hadn’t experienced since she was ten years old—to make a fist and pop Mrs. Flanders in her arrogant nose.
Instead, she plastered on the closest thing to a smile she could manage. “I’m sure Mrs. Ingalls had exquisite taste. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
“One more thing, Miss Martin. The children aren’t to play in the house. You are to confine them to their room upstairs.”
Annie frowned. “But this is their home.”
Mrs. Flanders raised a haughty brow. “That’s the way it’s done, Miss Martin.”
“I understand,” Annie said, though really, she didn’t.
She left, forbidding herself to hurry away, but unable to shake off the sting of Mrs. Flanders’s words. Had she heard the gossip about Annie’s family? Or did the older woman simply not like her?
Either way, Annie intended to show Mrs. Flanders—and everyone else in the Ingalls household—that she was, indeed, worthy of the job entrusted to her.
In the cookhouse, Mrs. Royce and her helpers were busy at the worktables. Steam rose from boiling pots on the cookstove.
There was no sign of the three little Ingalls.
“Did the children have their breakfast already?” Annie asked, trying to sound casual.
The three cooks all looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
“Down early, they were, before I got up,” Mrs. Royce muttered. “Fixed themselves a meal of jam and cookies, and a few other things, from the looks of the place.”
A vision of the mess the cooks must have walked in on this morning sprang into Annie’s mind. She threaded her fingers together. “Do you know where they went?”
“I’ve no clue,” Mrs. Royce said, and seemed relieved that she didn’t.
“Well, thank you,” Annie said, trying to smile.
It was only her first full day on the job and not only had she lost the children, she discovered they’d invaded the cookhouse and left it in a shambles.
A shudder passed through Annie. What else might the children be up to at this very moment?
Annie hurried out the back door. Shading her eyes against the morning sun, she gazed at the barns and outbuildings, the meadows and fields stretching into the distance. She circled the house twice. No sign of the children.
Sighing, she considered the probability that they would come back home once they got hungry. Sooner or later, her charges would reappear. She could simply wait them out.
Annie wasn’t willing to do that.
Muttering under her breath, she trudged back into the house and up the stairs. Mrs. Flanders might look down her nose at her. The cooks might wonder about her competence. Josh Ingalls could resent her nosy questions.
But those children—those three little children—were not going to get the best of her.
“What the…?”
Josh pulled his horse to a stop at the edge of the field, squinting his eyes against the sharp rays of the sun. Green rolling hills spread out as far as he could see, dotted by trees and an occasional rabbit and squirrel.
And here, amid this vast emptiness, he saw Annie.
Annie. Josh pressed his lips together as he watched her hiking up the hill toward a spreading elm tree. She had on the same straw hat he’d seen her in yesterday.
And she was wearing those trousers.
Annoying. Yes, annoying, finding her out here, he decided. Yet he wasn’t clear on just why he felt that way.
It couldn’t possibly be the trousers. Could it?
No. Of course not, he decided, shifting in the saddle. Probably it was because he needed the solitude of his farm this morning. He didn’t want to be reminded of problems. He didn’t want to make decisions at the moment.
Or was it because he’d found her creeping into his thoughts since daybreak? Without trousers?
Josh snorted, then nudged his stallion’s sides and headed toward her.
Good gracious, Annie thought as she saw Josh approach. The man owned hundreds of acres—hundreds. How could he possibly be in the same place as she?
And why had he showed up at this particular moment, on this particular spot when she didn’t have the foggiest idea where his children were? Just how was she going to explain that?
Above all, she couldn’t let him know that she’d failed so terribly at her new job.
Annie waited as he drew nearer, licking her dry lips, trying to work up some moisture—and a reasonable explanation.
She was hot and thirsty. She hadn’t brought any water with her. She’d always lived in towns. She wasn’t used to these wide-open spaces. She hadn’t thought the morning would turn so warm, or that she’d walk so far, or that she’d get lost. But at least she was more comfortable than she would have been if she hadn’t gone back upstairs and changed out of her dress before setting out.
“Good morning.” Annie put on a smile when Josh stopped his horse beside her under the shade of the elm.
He leaned on the saddle horn, gazing down at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “What are you doing way out here?”
“Just taking a walk,” she said with a smile and a breezy air, trying to look as if she weren’t about to melt into her shoe tops.
“You’re a long way from the house.” He looked around. “Where are the children?”
Darn. He’d noticed.
“They’re here,” Annie said, waving her hand, freezing her smile in place.
He raised in the stirrups and looked around once more. “I don’t see them.”
Annie smacked her dry lips. “Well, we’re…we’re playing a game. We’re playing…hide-and-seek.”
“So the children are…hiding?”
“Yes.” Annie stretched her mouth into a wider smile. “And let me tell you, Mr. Ingalls, those children of yours are terrific little hiders.”
“I guess they are,” Josh said, raising his eyebrows, “considering that I just saw them at the pond.”
The pond? The children were at the pond?
Annie’s knees nearly gave out with relief. Thank goodness. She could go get them and head back home. Still, she couldn’t give up the pretense.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let them know you gave away their hiding place,” Annie said. “Well, goodbye.”
She’d gone only a few steps when Josh called her name. She turned around.
“The pond is that way,” he said, pointing in the opposite direction.
“I know that,” she insisted, trying to keep him from realizing that not only hadn’t she known where his children were, she didn’t know where she was. “I was heading for the house.”
Josh pushed his hat back on his head. “I don’t suppose you used to be a scout with the army?”
“No, of course not. Why?”
“The house is the other way.” He pointed again.
“Oh.”
Josh gazed down at her for a moment, as if by looking hard he could make her confess the truth. Annie was tempted. Tempted to confess all, beg for forgiveness and a ride back to the house. Instead, she glared right back up at him.
He swung down from his horse and looped the reins around a low branch.
“You shouldn’t come out here with no water,” he said, untying his canteen.
She licked her lips but shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
“Suit yourself.” Josh leaned his head back, drinking from the canteen. Little rivulets of water trickled down his chin, his throat and under his shirt.
She watched him as long as she could, then gave in. “Well, maybe I’ll have a sip.”
Annie accepted the canteen from Josh. Dry as her throat was, she hesitated. Putting her mouth where Josh’s mouth had been seemed too personal. Almost scandalous. And Annie had never done a scandalous thing in her entire life.
Finally, good sense won out. Annie tipped up the canteen and drank greedily. The water tasted sweet and fresh.
It tasted like Josh, surely.
“You shouldn’t be out on foot like this,” Josh said.
“I had no choice. The children were g—that is, they wanted to play a game.”
He raised an eyebrow again. “Hide-and-seek?”
Annie could have sworn she saw the corner of his lips turn up, but refused to acknowledge the possibility that she was lying.
“Yes, hide-and-seek.”
Annie plopped down in the soft, green grass beneath the tree. A faint breeze stirred the leaves above them and a bird flew over. She gazed out across the fields.
“It’s pretty here,” she said.
Josh grunted. “You’re not much of a farm girl if what you see here is ‘pretty.”’
“I’ve never lived on a farm before, except for these last weeks with my cousin,” Annie admitted. “If you don’t see ‘pretty,’ what do you see?”
He walked over and stood beside her. “Money. Money and hard work.”
“Money from the crops, I guess?”
“Wheat, mostly. We’ll be planting soon.”
“At the end of summer?”
“Winter wheat,” Josh explained. “It develops its root system before the onset of cold weather, and becomes dormant. The plants make vigorous growth in the spring before they’re harvested in early summer. Winter wheat usually gives greater yield than spring wheat.”
“And, therefore, more money?”
He looked at her. “Exactly.”
“And plenty of hard work?”
He nodded. “Always plenty of that.”
“The work seems to suit you.”
Josh looked out over his fields again, then dropped to the ground beside her. “I love this place. I bought the land with money I’d won from a lucky streak of poker, and started farming.”
Annie wanted to ask him how many acres he owned, but didn’t. She didn’t want Josh to think she was interested in his wealth, as so many of the other nannies had been.
“My cousin Angus has lived here a while, I understand. He loves the land, too,” Annie said. “It’s been difficult for my mother to adjust to this place.”
Josh turned to her. “Why’s that?”
Annie stifled a gasp. Why had she mentioned her family? She hadn’t meant to. In fact, the very last thing she wanted to discuss with Josh was her family. She was lucky that he didn’t already know about them…about the scandal.
“She was worried about moving out here, so far from a large town,” Annie explained. “Worried about the Indians.”
Josh shrugged. “We’ve had no trouble with Indians in years. After the war with the Sauks back in ’32, most of them headed west to Washington. A few stayed behind. One of them is my friend, Night Hawk. Besides, there’s a large contingency of soldiers at Fort Tye.”
“My cousin Angus said there was no need to worry,” Annie said. “But my mother, well, she worried anyway. It’s been difficult for her since my father died.”
“They were in love, your mother and father?”
She was a little surprised by his question. “Well, yes, I suppose they were. I mean, they were married for years. Wouldn’t they have been in love?”
Josh grunted and turned away.
“Isn’t that what marriage is all about?” Annie pushed her straw hat off her head and stretched her legs out in front of her. “When I marry it will be for love. Love and passion. Enough to last two lifetimes.”
Josh fell silent for a few moments, so long, in fact, that Annie turned to him. A vacant look had come over his face and she realized how thoughtless her comments were.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about marriage, with your wife gone.”
Josh shook his head but still wouldn’t look at her. “No, it’s all right.”
“I won’t speak of her again.”
Josh turned to her then. “I don’t mind. Really. I don’t want the children to think they can’t talk about their mother.”
For a man who seemed determined to spend as little time with his children as possible, Annie was surprised to hear Josh say those things.
“Mrs. Flanders speaks highly of your wife,” Annie said.
“Lydia brought Mrs. Flanders with her from Philadelphia when we married.”
“Your wife wasn’t from here?”
Josh glanced down at his hands. “No,” he said softly. “We met when I traveled East on business. Hers was a very fine, well-established family. I was…fortunate…she agreed to the marriage.”
Josh sank into his own thoughts, making Annie feel like an intruder. Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
Was this the face of a man still in love with his dead wife? Is that what his expression meant?
A little knot squeezed her chest tight, and for some reason, Annie couldn’t bear to sit here beside him another moment.
“I’m heading back,” she said, and got to her feet.
He came out of his reverie and rose beside her. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Not necessary,” Annie insisted. “I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to.”
“Believe it or not, Miss Martin, insuring that my children’s nanny doesn’t succumb to heatstroke is an important matter to me.”
Putting it that way made Annie’s refusal sound a bit silly. Still, she didn’t want to ride with him, didn’t want him—or anyone who might see them—to get the idea she was interested in anything more than his children.
Because she wasn’t. Was she?
Annie backed away. “No, really, Mr. Ingalls, I’d rather walk.”
He followed as she backed away. “It’s too far and too hot.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ll be fine. Really.”
Josh stopped a pace in front of her. “Is there some…other reason you don’t want to ride with me?”
The breath went out of Annie as Josh gazed down at her. What was it about this man? Sometimes when he looked at her—simply looked—he caused the most peculiar reaction.
“Well?” he asked, inching closer.
Annie managed to look up at him. “I—I don’t want anyone to get the idea I’m…”
“You’re…?”
What was it Georgia had said about the other nannies? “I don’t want anyone to think I’m sniffing around after you.”
A little grin tugged at his lips. “Sniffing around?”
“Yes,” she said, and felt her cheeks grow warm. “That I’m interested in you because of your wealth or…other things. Because I certainly don’t—”
He kissed her on the mouth. Looped his arms around her, pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers, blending them together. Stunned, Annie hung in his embrace, unable to stand, unable to breathe. His thighs touched hers. His chest brushed her breasts. And he tasted delightful, like—she had no idea what, for she’d never before tasted anything so fine.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/judith-stacy/the-nanny/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.