A Convenient Proposal

Chapter Eight

By the time Kathy dropped Arden off at the cottage, the cloudy day had given way to darkness. Standing on the porch surrounded by shopping bags, Arden watched the Bug’s rear lights travel up the drive and past the Campbells’ house. Then she opened the door and shifted her purchases to the floor of the front hall before going to fetch Igor for a predinner walk.

Listening to him sniff among the wet leaves and grass, Arden finally had time to consider the afternoon and its implications. Lauren, Dana and Kathy could be as funny as Griff and were just as easy to talk to. After a delicious lunch, the four of them had prowled through every dress shop in Sheridan, and there were quite a few. The Campbell sisters had teased each other, but also complimented and critiqued when necessary. Arden had received what she recognized as a gentle version of the same sisterly treatment. She had enjoyed the sense of family immensely.

And therein lay the danger.

She could like them too much for her own peace of mind. Depending on Griff’s sisters for opinions and advice—or just for the pleasure of their company—would be all too easy.

The revelation of Kathy’s hearing problems further complicated the issue. Arden hadn’t asked for specifics and no one had volunteered. The sisters might think Griff would have explained to his “fiancée.” Kathy didn’t seem to have the smallest difficulty understanding conversation, even in a crowded restaurant setting. On the other hand, Arden had found herself losing the clarity of voices even more frequently than she had at dinner with the Campbell clan. Perhaps the clatter of dishware had made the situation worse. Or her condition might have deteriorated.

She wasn’t sure whether Kathy’s pregnancy announcement or the reminder of her own impending deafness had been the low point of the day.

With Igor walked and fed, she carried her shopping bags into the smaller bedroom to sort through her purchases. Dresses for day parties and dances and the wedding, plus some clothes for horseback riding soon hung from a rack on the closet door. She’d also indulged in a new outfit simply because she loved it—dark gray leggings and a silvery cashmere sweater to wear over them would be warm and cozy on cold rainy evenings in Georgia.

The doorbell sounded just as she slipped the sweater over her head. Igor ran down the hallway ahead of her to stand guard at the door. Through one sidelight window she could see Griff on the porch.

“Back to the sunroom,” she told Igor, clipping the leash to his collar and leading him away. “We’re going to have to work on peace negotiations between you and Griff. But until we do…” As she shut him in, she was pleased to see the dog settle on his bed, apparently content to observe life through the windows.

Then she hurried back to the front door. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, pulling back the panel. “I…” She hesitated, because he held a big carton in front of him, which gave off a tantalizing aroma. “What do you have there?”

“Dinner from New Moon, the best Chinese food in Georgia.” As she stepped back, he came in sideways and headed for the kitchen. “I decided the weather discouraged taking you out, so I’d bring the restaurant here.” He set the box on the kitchen table.

“Also champagne, because…” He shrugged. “Because we like champagne.”

“Excellent planning.” Arden moved toward the cabinets. “I’ll get plates—”

His arms came around her from behind, and his warm mouth pressed against the curve between her neck and shoulder, revealed by the wide cowl of the sweater. “I thought we could reheat the food later,” he murmured, stringing kisses over her skin. “What I’m really craving wasn’t on the New Moon menu.”

Romance novels spoke of thrills—Arden now understood the sensation, like tiny streams of excitement coursing over and through her body from the places where he set his lips. She wanted so much to surrender and let desire flood through her.

But the revelations of the day tied her to sanity. Her doubts and worries about the situation refused to be shut off.

“Mmm,” Griff said, bringing his hands to her shoulders. “You’re tense tonight.” He kneaded gently, finding all the tight spots between her elbows and the nape of her neck.

Arden almost whimpered. “That feels so good.” Tears burned her eyes at the intensity of the relief.

“My dad let slip the big news today.” He wrapped his hands around her head, massaging a different place with each finger.

She could barely think for the pleasure. “About…?”

“Kath’s baby.” His fingers shifted, resumed their magic. “I’m gonna kill her for not telling me.” Annoyance edged his tone.

“She wanted to.” Arden couldn’t believe she was playing peacemaker between brother and sister. “You’ve only been home a couple of days.”

“That should have been the first thing she said. ‘Welcome home, bro. I’m having a baby.’”

“Perhaps she didn’t want to distract attention from…um…me.”

“Maybe. Stupid.” His hands settled quietly on her shoulders. “Feel better?”

“Much.” She was tempted to suggest they eat now and gradually recover the mood for sex with champagne.

Sex with Griff was, however, the only way to reach her goal. She’d agreed to this crazy plan in order to get pregnant. The more often they had sex, the more likely she would be to conceive.

And so she turned in Griff’s arms, raising her face to his. “Now, what can we do to satisfy your appetite?”



AFTER THREE DAYS OF RAIN, Friday served up sunny skies and warmer temperatures. Griff woke early, with anticipation, and puttered around the house for several hours until he could legitimately show up at the cottage at nine to take Arden riding.

She met him at the door wearing breeches, boots and a heavy sweater.

“You look great,” he said, admiring the fit of those tight pants and the line of her legs in riding boots. “But I thought you said you’d never done this before.”

Her smile was sheepish. “I haven’t. Kathy suggested I’d feel more comfortable in the right clothes, and be safer with boots instead of sneakers. She took me to a tack shop and helped me find what I needed.”

Griff shook his head. “That girl is an expert when it comes to shopping and spending money—other people’s money, especially.” Then he grinned. “But I love her. I’m not complaining, as far as you’re concerned. You will enjoy the ride more without a pair of jeans chafing your legs. And the gloves are a good idea—you have soft hands. So, are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” she declared, then swallowed hard. “I think.”

“You’ll do fine.” He led her to the pasture behind the cottage, took a couple of halters off the rack by the gate and handed her the red one.

“This is for Dorsey. She’s the quietest, gentlest mare on the planet and pretty much goes on autopilot. All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful.” He winked at Arden. “So you’ve got this covered.”

She smiled. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” To prove it, he leaned in for a quick kiss.

And then lingered, because the truth was he could have kissed her all day long, could have turned both of them around to go back to the cottage and its warm, cozy bed. Every minute he spent holding her, every hour they spent making love, left him completely satisfied, and at the same time hungry for more—an unsolvable, delicious dilemma.

But he banked the fire she’d ignited and called up a grin, instead. “Let’s get those horses.”

The animals, of course, had decided to spend their morning in a sunny spot at the corner of the field farthest from the gate. They looked up from nosing the ground as the humans approached.

“Dorsey is the dark one,” Griff told Arden, “the bay with the white moon on her forehead. Cowboy is brown and white and black—a tricolor pinto, we call him. Or paint.” He demonstrated with Cowboy how to put on a halter. “Nose through here, pull up behind the jaw, then buckle behind the ears. That’s all there is to it. Now you try on Dorsey.”

After just a couple of false starts, Arden got the halter in place. She grinned at Griff in triumph and he nodded.

“Good job. Now we lead them to the barn.” He pointed in the general direction. “Back across the field, through the gate on the other side and then to the left behind those trees.”

A quick study, Arden followed his instructions about brushing and hoof cleaning without a problem, thanks in part to Dorsey’s patient nature. The saddles and bridles followed quickly, then they went back to the stable yard to mount.

“There’s nothing to hold on to,” Arden said, staring at the English saddle on Dorsey’s back. “How do I stay on? For that matter, how do I get there?”

“That horn you were expecting just gets in the way,” Griff assured her. “Come around here, to the mounting block.” Leading Dorsey, he positioned her beside the low set of steps. “Climb to the top,” he instructed Arden. “Put your left foot in the stirrup…yep. Grab her mane with your left hand—no, you won’t hurt her. Hold the saddle with your right. Now just swing that right leg up and over. Up, up…and over. Then sit. See? Not so hard.”

“Whew.” She looked scared and excited at the same time. “It’s farther from the ground than I thought.” Wiggling a little, she settled in. “And the reins?”

“Like this.” He showed her how to position the leather straps through her fingers. “Just leave them loose for now. Dorsey won’t go anywhere until Cowboy does. So I’ll park you right here—” he led her a few steps ahead “—until I get on, and then we’ll ride.”

He mounted Cowboy without using the block, and found Arden staring at him when he sat down.

“How do you do that from the ground? He’s so tall.”

“Practice—I’ve been doing this since my head only came to the bottom of the stirrup.” He brought Cowboy alongside Dorsey. “The hard part’s done. Now we just sit and look at the scenery.”

Griff couldn’t have asked for a nicer morning. The horses behaved, and Arden gradually relaxed until she looked as if she belonged in the saddle. He’d missed the farm in his months away, so reacquainting himself with the nooks and crannies, the hills and dells and groves, was a pleasure all in itself.

Arden didn’t talk a lot, but a woman who lived alone would not, by nature, be a gabbler. He didn’t know any of her habits very well, although sometimes he felt as if she’d always been part of his life. Their minds seemed calibrated to fit together, so he wasn’t always explaining his jokes or why he’d made a particular comment. She simply understood.

And though many mysteries remained hidden behind that beautiful face, they bothered him less and less. He didn’t need to know everything about her. What she brought to the here and now was enough.

Not even considering the fantastic sex. If she wasn’t pregnant now, it wasn’t because they hadn’t tried.

The thought cast a shadow over his sunny morning. Arden had come to Sheridan because they’d made a deal. He would get to show her off and she would get pregnant. Whether or not they enjoyed their time together was, in fact, irrelevant.

Griff had a hard time remembering that detail. He liked her more with each meeting, in private or in public. He craved making love to her the way an alcoholic craves liquor. She could become very necessary in his life, very fast. Except she would be planning to leave town once Zelda and Al had left for their honeymoon.

“I think you’ve run the gauntlet this week,” he said, distracting himself from the prospect of a future without Arden Burke. “First, a family dinner—though not every relative we could call on was present.”

She laughed. “Oh, heavens. How many more could there be?”

“Hundreds. Then the ultimate embarrassment with my mother and a family argument.”

“Let’s not go there.”

“You survived lunch and shopping with the sisters, even meeting the ex. Plus horse surgery and Miss Patty’s reminiscences.”

“There’s this weekend still to come, though.”

The cocktail party and the dinner. “Let’s not go there today, either. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve crossed the first set of hurdles, and you cleared every single one.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Has anything come up that I need to fill you in on? Any questions or comments we should cover?”

She rode in silence, letting Dorsey choose her footing across the steep slope of the hill as they headed toward Cripple Creek. Once they’d crossed the stream, with Dorsey stepping carefully across the rocks, Arden stirred in the saddle.

“I was surprised to learn that Kathy wears hearing aids.”

He hadn’t expected that comment. “Since babyhood, as a matter of fact.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“She caught bacterial meningitis, though we never figured out how. We were just lucky we didn’t lose her. When she finally did recover, our parents gradually realized she couldn’t hear well. The hearing aids help, and she’s a whiz at lip reading. All of us learned sign language, thinking we’d need it, but we almost never use it with her.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed.” Arden stared straight ahead. “She seems to understand even when she’s not looking at you.”

“Her hearing is about forty percent, I think. So if the surroundings aren’t too noisy, with too many voices, she makes out pretty well.”

“I see.” Arden nodded, but still didn’t look at him. “So she won’t pass her…problem…on to her child.”

“Nope. Purely an accident. They might have a few qualms about the vaccine, but I suspect Jim will convince her to go for it. Homeschooling is all well and good, but even colleges still look at your shot record before they let you in the door.” He’d expected to provoke a laugh, or at least a smile, but Arden didn’t seem to hear. Or just didn’t get it.

After a minute, though, she returned from wherever her mind had been wandering. “So what’s the secret to going faster with Dorsey, here?”

Griff grinned. “That’s the first step. I never offer to speed up until a new rider asks. Now, for the trot, what you’re gonna do…”

Within a few minutes, Dorsey and Cowboy were trotting along the level stretch of road, with Arden posting as if she’d invented the practice. Cheeks pink with the wind, hair flowing and eyes bright, she was a picture of health and happiness that smote Griff in the heart.

I’d be happy to call Sheridan home, he thought, if Arden Burke would stay here with me.



THAT EVENING, Griff pulled the Jaguar into a line of cars snaking up to the front door of the Patrick home.

“Valet parking,” he said. “Of course.” Instead of his usual relaxed driving position, he sat upright with both hands gripping the steering wheel. He hadn’t smiled even once since picking Arden up at the cottage.

“Tell me about the Patricks,” she suggested. “What should I know to make this ordeal easier?”

“Ted Patrick practices law—personal injury and malpractice cases, mostly. Hence the huge house. His wife, Dee, is Zelda’s mother’s closest friend, president of the Garden Club and the Women’s Club and the Junior League. She pretty much runs the town. Their son works for his dad and their daughter married more money. I think she also does room decorating.”

“Interior design, I believe it’s called.”

“Right.” He tapped the wheel with his fingers. “If we could move on, actually leave the vehicle, then we could get this thing over with.”

Arden shifted in her seat, feeling slightly smothered even in her beautiful, spacious car. Her stomach hadn’t been feeling good all afternoon, and now her muscles ached, no doubt from the two hours she’d spent on Dorsey’s back. Griff had gone to visit Rajah after their ride, so she’d taken a nap, thinking she’d wake refreshed and ready for the party. But she still felt tired.

Perhaps the stress of the situation had made her nervous. She’d been a victim of stage fright occasionally in the past, at especially important concerts. Once she was involved with the music, her nerves and her twinges had always disappeared.

So she agreed with Griff wholeheartedly—they would be better off if they could just get into the house.

They reached the head of the line, finally—the spot in front of the steps, where the car doors were opened by a young man on each side.

“It’s showtime,” Griff muttered, and reached over to squeeze Arden’s hand. Hard.

“Hey, Dr. Griff.” The redhead on the driver’s side shook his hand.

“Hey, Rusty.” Upon emerging from the car, Griff assumed his usual friendly demeanor. “Good to see you.”

“Thanks. Hey, remember my hound, Bo? Thought we’d lost him to distemper, but you pulled him through? You oughta see him these days—ninety pounds of muscle, fit as a fiddle.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You’re keeping him vaccinated now, right?” Coming around the car, Griff put his hand at the small of Arden’s back as they started up the steps.

“Sure thing, Doc. I learned my lesson. And don’t worry— I’ll take good care of your car here.”

“Thanks. There are a few advantages,” he murmured into Arden’s ear, “to having everybody in town know your face.”

“I’m glad you think so.” She was grateful she couldn’t say the same.

Just inside the front door, a man and a woman greeted the guests. “Griff Campbell. Good to see you, son.” From his short, stylish salt-and-pepper hair to his custom-made suit and Italian loafers, everything about Ted Patrick whispered money.

“You, too, Mr. Patrick. Let me introduce you to Arden Burke.”

The attorney’s hands were soft as they closed over Arden’s. “I’m glad to meet you, Arden. Please enjoy yourself this evening.”

Like a stage curtain, Arden’s public persona fell into place without effort. “I’m sure I will. You have a lovely home, Mr. Patrick.”

“All the credit belongs to my wife,” he said, passing them along to the plump blonde woman on his left. “I just make the money. She spends it. Look who’s here, honey. Griff and his friend.”

“Griff!” Dee Patrick’s squeal turned several heads in their direction. Standing on tiptoe, she threw her arms around his neck. “It’s so good to see you home again.”

His face reddened—from embarrassment or lack of oxygen, Arden wasn’t sure which—and he stepped back as soon as she released him. “Thank you, Mrs. Patrick. This is—”

“Arden.” Dee’s look was coy and her hands were cold. “But I’ve heard there’s a little more than friendship going on with you two. I expect we’ll be having another nuptial party here real soon, won’t we? Now, y’all go get yourselves something to drink and something to eat. I’m sure everybody here will want to talk to you, once they’ve seen Zelda and Al.”

To Arden’s dismay, she seemed to be correct in that prediction. As soon as she and Griff moved away from the reception area, two friends he knew from high school stepped up to talk to them. A married couple of about the same age joined them, but then the two men were replaced by an older man and woman whose daughter Griff had dated. As his date, Arden couldn’t move from the spot, hemmed in as they both were by a constantly changing barrier of busybodies.

Across the room, however, the official stars of the evening drew an even bigger crowd. Zelda wore a fitted red dress that brought highlights to her honey-blond hair and depth to her blue eyes. The diamond on her left hand flashed under the lights, but was not remarkable for its size. Her smiles seemed genuine, and when she looked up at her groom-to-be, Arden felt her throat catch. Their locked gazes blatantly conveyed love and trust.

Al McPherson was not the brawny type Arden had expected, but slender instead, even bony, with a long, serious face, deep-set eyes and a sheaf of straight dark hair falling over his forehead. He wore a plain charcoal suit and a nondescript tie, and though he smiled easily, he never released his grip on Zelda’s hand.

The crowd around Arden and Griff shifted again, but when she focused on the new faces, she was relieved to recognize Kathy and Lauren.

“We thought you looked trapped,” Lauren said in a stage whisper, as Griff remained captured by an older gentleman who would not be dislodged. “So we brought you some punch.”

“Wonderful.” Arden took a sip and closed her eyes in relief. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

“You two are a sensation,” Kathy said. “Zelda’s probably jealous that you’ve taken over her party.”

The thought made Arden even queasier. “I hope not. I certainly didn’t intend to.” Turning away from Griff slightly, she drew the sisters closer. All the noise in the room made following the conversation difficult enough. She didn’t want Kathy and Lauren to speak loud enough to be overheard—especially by their brother.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lauren told her sister. “Zelda’s not the jealous type and you know it.”

Arden looked at her in surprise. “She isn’t?”

Kathy pouted but Lauren shook her head. “Zelda’s a nice girl. We were all ready to call her sister until she dumped Griff.”

Giving in to her own curiosity, Arden asked, “You didn’t have a clue that she might not be committed to marrying him?”

“Nobody knew,” Lauren replied.

“I did,” Kathy said at the same time.

Arden and Lauren both stared at her. “You did?” her sister demanded.

“I saw her with Al once, up in Clarksville, in the mountains. They were sitting at a table, holding hands, talking. Neither of them looked happy. I knew it was serious.”

“And you didn’t tell Griff?”

“I’m not a snitch. And I didn’t want to hurt him…or make it any easier for her.”

“For who?” Griff said at that moment, pivoting to join them. “Or whom, maybe?”

Lauren and Kathy seemed to have been struck dumb, so Arden supplied an answer. “Dana. We were discussing our shopping trip the other day.”

“Was everybody as successful as Arden?” he asked his sisters. “Because the dress she’s wearing is a scorcher.”

Arden smiled, glad to think that she’d made the right choice with her clinging, strapless black dress and finely woven stole.

Before Lauren or Kathy could respond, though, he looked over their heads in the direction of the guests of honor. “The crowd has shrunk to a manageable size. Shall we pay our respects?”

“Have a drink first.” Kathy held out the punch she’d brought for him.

Griff took the glass and tossed back the pink liquid in one swallow. His face contorted. “Bleh. Pink lemonade and champagne? What a foul idea.” He slipped his hand between Arden’s elbow and her ribs. “Here we go.”

His grip got tighter as they approached Zelda and Al, driving Arden’s tension higher in response. Somehow, as they joined the receiving line, the dynamics of crowd movement brought them to the guests of honor right away.

Zelda’s eyes widened when she saw them. “Hi, Griff. And…and Arden, right?”

“Yes,” Arden said, extending her hand. “We didn’t get to talk on Monday morning. You have my best wishes on your upcoming marriage.”

“Th-thanks.” Zelda’s hand shook her as fingers brushed Arden’s. “It was nice of you both to come tonight.”

“It was nice of your mother to ask Dee to invite us,” Griff said, his voice unusually deep.

All at once, they seemed to be the only people standing with the happy couple. Arden felt as if a bank of stage lights highlighted the four of them.

“Al, honey.” Zelda tugged on the hand holding hers. “Look. It’s Griff and—and his friend, Arden.”

Al turned to face them. “I’m pleased to meet you, Arden. Welcome to Sheridan.”

Then his stony brown gaze met Griff’s steel blue one. Al’s right hand lifted, wrist stiff and straight, at the same time as Griff extended his. The two hands, one light-skinned and the other bronzed from the sun, met and gripped until both sets of knuckles turned white. Each man spoke one word.

“Al.”

“Griff.”

In the next instant, as if struck by a hammer, the two hands broke apart. Al felt for Zelda’s grasp. Griff’s fingers clenched Arden’s elbow.

He spoke into the silence. “We’re out of here.”

Before the collective gasp had died away, he swept her past the Patricks and out the front door.