Chapter 7

Gabriella

"Vous êtes un idiot!Je ne peux pas croire que vous avez entré dans ma chambre comme ?a!" Gabriella shouted, telling him that she couldn't believe that he had walked in on her like that.

"I can't understand you!" Dirk teased in a singsong voice from the living room.

"Well, it's probably a good thing that you can't!" She threw the wet towel on the floor. "Si ?a se passe une autre fois, je vais coupez v?tre pénis et jouter le dehors pour nourrir les loups!" she challenged, telling him that if he ever did that to her again, she would cut off his male parts and feed them to the wolves.

"It would probably be more effective if you shouted at me in English!" Dirk chortled from the living room, clearly amused. "Hurry up! I'm next!"

"Oafish brute!" She reached for one of her shoes and threw it at the door.

"And stop tearing up my house!"

"You call this a house?" She started washing, but then had an idea. She hurried to finish her bath. "You want a bath?" she mumbled to herself. "Then enjoy an ice bath, you masculine pig!"

"I didn't hear that!"

"Good! You weren't meant to!" she fumed, and then slid down under the water. The water felt wonderful, despite her anger. Under the warm water, she started to relax.

Buster whimpered at the door, wanting to get in. "Buster, go lie down, boy." Dirk was laughing on the other side of the door.

Despite Dirk's antics, it was the most soothing bath she'd had in what seemed to be a long time. She sat up and used more soap to wash her long hair like the maids had taught her, and then dunked under the water again to rinse. Then, she slid up and just relaxed in the water. In spite of the fit she had thrown, she secretly admired that he had stood up to her like that. No one ever had.

She stayed in the water, letting the warmth soothe her muscles until it started turning cold. "That should do him." Gabriella got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself. As she dried off, she looked around the room.

On the back of the door was a robe. Gabriella giggled as she took it off the hook. When she slid it on, it was huge on her and dragged along the floor when she walked, but it carried his scent, a combination of musk and rain. She picked up the wet towels and hung them over a chair, just as she had picked up the afghan, not wanting to just throw them on the floor like she would have back home. She was quickly learning that no one was going to come behind her to pick up everything she left lying around, as the maids did in Monaco. Dirk sure wasn't going to pick up after her, that was certain.

In Monaco, she'd taken having servants for granted, having people at her beck and call to cater to her every whim. It had been a completely different lifestyle. In Dirk's house, she was quickly learning how to care for not only herself, but for a house and for others.

But back at home, she had known nothing else. Here in Whiskey River, she was quickly getting an education from Dirk in the ways of the world and how to care for herself and a house, whether she wanted it or not.

She dried her hair. Then she picked up her clothes, hunted down the shoes she had thrown at the door, and walked out.

Dirk was sitting in the rocking chair, reading a book, Buster on the floor by his side. Buster looked up when she walked out, but Dirk didn't even glance up from his book. "Enjoy yourself?" he asked, smirking.

"Hmph!" she huffed, and then stomped into the guest room and slammed the door shut as Dirk chuckled. She thought for a moment, and then opened it. "And stay out this time!"

Dirk laughed. "I wouldn't have walked in before if you had waited until the water was ready!"

Gabriella slammed the door shut and looked around the room. A candle was sitting on a pewter candle holder that was muted silver in color. The golden light cast shadows around the room. Dirk must have lit it for her. She was surprised when she looked around. There was a lady's vanity on the left against the wall, with a woman's hairbrush, hairpins, elaborate combs, and more. On the bed was a clean, dainty bedspread. Curious, she walked over to the closet, and in it hung ladies' clothes, fine dresses, and shoes. She picked up a shoe and held it to the bottom of her foot. It was close to her size and would do.

She ran her hand over the clothes, amazed. She could spend hours in that closet, going through the dresses, scarves, modesty pieces, and more. And on the top shelf of the closet were hats. As she took it all in, her rage immediately left her. At that moment, she realized that there was no end to Dirk's generosity. Suddenly, she felt guilty for having let the bath water get cold for him. After all, he had taken the time to heat it for her, to care for her.

Confused, she sat on the edge of the bed, taking it all in, wondering who the wardrobe had belonged to. She glanced at the door involuntarily, and then back at the vanity. Gabriella pulled out the dainty chair and sat in front of the slightly wavy reflection. Then she examined the countertop. Two feminine boxes sat on either end of the vanity. Curious, she slowly opened the one on the left. It held cosmetics, imported from France. The box on the right was a jewelry box. She opened it, and it was filled with simple, but fine pieces. She quickly closed it, feeling as if she were invading another woman's personal belongings.

She opened the bureau and found a silk gown, folded neatly, lying in the second drawer. She slipped it on, and then donned a beige silk robe. Unable to wait, she opened the door. Dirk was still sitting in the rocking chair, facing the fire, reading as Buster lay on the floor by his side. Buster lifted his head when he noticed Gabriella standing in the doorway, and lazily wagged his tail.

"Are these fine things… ladies' things… in the spare room mine to use," she asked, her voice soft, "while I'm here?"

Dirk sighed as he closed his book, but his eyes didn't meet hers. "Yes. They're yours for as long as you like."

Gabriella nodded. "Sorry about your bath."

Dirk smiled as he watched the fire. "Don't worry. I put more water on to warm." He waited for a minute, and then opened the book again and started rocking back and forth as he suppressed a smile. "I'll be sure to lock the door, so you won't accidentally walk in on me."

"Thanks." She turned to head back into the spare room.

"Gabriella." He paused, waiting for her to turn back. "It really was an accident. Please, forgive me."

She smiled. "There's nothing to forgive."

"Oh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Because it was an accident," she amended flatly. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night." He smirked, and then added, "But I'm not sorry for dumping the water on your head."

Gabriella laughed, in spite of herself. "Oh? Well, enjoy your cold bath."

He smirked. "I already let out the water and rinsed the tub."

"Good night." She went back into the spare bedroom and shut the door. She had been thinking of waiting until he was in the bath and then dumping a bucket of snow on his head, but after she saw his generosity, she couldn't bring herself to do it. No, she would save it for another day. As she prepared for bed, she heard Dirk chuckle as he rocked back and forth in the rocking chair in the living room.

Bright white light streamed in through the window the next morning as Gabriella opened her eyes. It was bright. Too bright. The kind of brightness that only comes from light reflecting off snow. And for some reason that she didn't understand, she couldn't wait to see Dirk.

She rose from the bed and perused the dresses in the closet. Some were homemade, but many were store bought. The dresses that had been hand sewn were very well made. Gabriella knew enough about life in the west to know that women usually only owned a few dresses, at best. In fact, many could only afford two or three. One or two work dresses and only one fancy dress. But this closet was filled.

Gabriella chose a beige dress with little pink rosebuds. It was fitted in the bodice and flared out from the waist to the floor, fitting her to perfection. She fumbled with the tiny buttons, but soon figured it out and was dressed. She had no idea what to do with her hair, but then she remembered what her maids had taught her. Her hair had dried overnight, so she pulled the sides up with golden combs encrusted with pink roses to match the dress and let the back fall past her shoulders down to her waist. She sat at the vanity and pinched her cheeks to bring up color. When she walked out of her bedroom, she felt more like a lady than she had since this adventure began.

In the living room, Buster was waiting for her at the door, wagging his tail. She stooped down to rub his ears. "Bonjour, mon amour. Want to go out?" He wagged his tail furiously in answer as his nails clicked excitedly against the floor. Gabriella laughed. "Come on, mon cher." Since it was already daylight, she figured that Dirk was already outside tending the animals. She couldn't believe she had slept in, but she had been so tired from her adventure and the bath had been so soothing—despite Dirk's antics—that she had fallen asleep right away.

Gabriella headed into the kitchen and made coffee, mimicking what she had seen Dirk do. The stove was already lit. Evidently, Dirk must have lit it before going out to the barn. It was a good thing because she had no idea how to light it. While she was working, she realized just how much she didn't know about running a house. She looked around, and in one of the drawers was an apron. So, she put it on and started making biscuits the way Dirk had taught her, rolled them in oil on a pan, and then popped them into the oven. Then she let Buster back in, and he went into the living room to curl up by the fireplace.

It was cold in the cabin, so she put another log on the fire, but it kind of sat there. Soon the fire began to die. Gabriella glanced over at a box with small twigs set by the fireplace. So, she took a handful and laid them on the log, hoping she was doing it right. She looked up, and long matches were setting there. She lit one and then placed it under the twigs. It caught fire but started to die. She blew on it to keep it from dying and soot blew back onto her, covering her face. Unwilling to give up, she struck another match, held it under the fine twigs, and to her amazement, the fire started, and warmth immediately filled the room. She walked into the kitchen, feeling accomplished.

Gabriella picked up a dish towel and wiped her face the best she could, sure that it was covered in soot. She didn't know where the perishables were kept, but she looked around and found a door.

When she opened it, cold air rushed toward her and there were stairs leading down, so she assumed that the perishable food was down there. Did she dare go down to find out? Feeling like a homemaker for the first time in her life, she summoned her courage and went down the stairs. They led to a cold, dark cellar. There, she found jars of preserves, jellies, tomatoes, corn, canned green beans, homemade pickles, and other vegetables, along with a variety of smoked meats. There was enough for a whole family to get through the winter, let alone one person. She picked up some bacon and walked back up the stairs, but the door was locked.

"No!" She gasped as she shook the door handle. "No. This can't be happening!" She thought for a moment and then hollered, "Dirk! Dirk I'm down here!"

Nothing.

"Dirk. Come quick! I'm down here!"

Still nothing.

She looked up and light was streaming in through little windows at the top of the cellar. Gabriella climbed on a table and pushed on a window, but it wouldn't open. "Dirk, I'm down here!"

No one came.

Then she smelled something burning, and Buster started whimpering at the door. "No! The biscuits!" She grabbed a broom propped up against the wall and hit the roof, banging on the floor of the cabin. "Dirk, come quick before the house catches fire!" She banged until she heard footsteps. Buster was barking. "Dirk, I'm down here!"

There was a ruckus in the kitchen, and then the cellar door flew open. Smoke rolled down the stairs, causing her to cough.

"Gabriella?" Dirk asked, coughing. "Are you down here? What's going on?"

Gabriella hurried up the stairs and into the kitchen, carrying the bacon, shivering. The pan of biscuits was in the sink, and the oven door was wide open. "I made biscuits and then went down to the cellar for bacon—"

"How long have you been down there?" Dirk pulled her to his chest, rubbing her back.

Gabriella let out a deflated breath. "Long enough for the biscuits to burn. I was calling for you, but you were outside."

"Come on." He took the bacon from her, laid it on a plate, and set it on the counter. Then he gently took her hand and led her outside onto the back porch, leaving the door open for the smoke to clear. Buster ran out behind them, wagging his tail. Gabriella bent down and started petting him to keep from crying.

"What happened?" Dirk asked.

Gabriella bit her lower lip as tears welled up in her eyes. "I made biscuits like you taught me yesterday, and then went down to the cellar. The door must have locked behind me."

He helped her to her feet and rubbed her shoulders. "It's not your fault. The door keeps sticking, and I've been meaning to fix it for a long time. I keep a knife down there so I can open the door when it sticks."

Gabriella nodded, unable to speak, tears filling her eyes.

"Hey, hey," he cooed as he pulled her into his arms again. "It's not your fault; it's mine. I should have fixed it weeks ago. I just got busy—"

Involuntary tears rolled down her cheeks and onto his shirt. "I'm sorry. I was going to surprise you."

Dirk placed a finger gently under her chin and forced her to look into his eyes, one corner of his lips curling into a smile. "You did surprise me."

"Not that kind of surprise," she mumbled as she looked away.

"Gabriella." His tone forced her to look at him again. "I was only kidding with you. It was nice that you wanted to cook breakfast."

"Merci beaucoup." She sniffed, dabbing daintily at her eyes. "It's very kind of you to say."

He smiled as he looked deeply into her eyes, and something stirred within her chest. Dirk pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping her face. "How did your face get so dirty?"

"I tried to start a fire," she replied, defeated.

Dirk chuckled. "I think you started more than one."

Gabriella shook her head and tried to pull away, but he held her in his arms.

"I was only kidding. Just trying to make you smile." He looked thoughtfully at her face as he wiped away the soot. "There. Feel better?"

She smiled as her heart pounded. "Much better, thank you."

"Well, the good news is that I saved the coffee," he teased. "You want some? It smells delicious."

"How can you tell with all the smoke?"

He laughed. "Well, let's see if it tastes as good as it smells." He took her hand and led her back inside. Most of the smoke had cleared, and the only casualty was the tray of burned biscuits in the sink. "How do you take it?" he asked as he poured coffee into two cups.

"Cream and sugar," she answered.

He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling. "Well, I hate to tell you, but the cream is in the cellar."

"Oh, no!" she protested as she scooped two teaspoons of sugar into her cup. "I'm not going back down there again. I'll drink it black."

Dirk laughed. "No, I'll get it. I'll be right back." He headed toward the stairs, and then turned back to face her and winked. "But if I get locked down there, let me up."

She laughed in spite of herself. "That wasn't funny."

He nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Oh, yes it was. I'll be right back."

While he was gone, she looked around the kitchen and put some dishwater on to heat, like she had watched Dirk do the day before.

When Dirk came back up, he discarded the burned biscuits in the trash. "Why don't you sit down, and I'll fix breakfast?" Dirk urged as he came back into the room.

Gabriella shook her head. "No, I want to help." She brushed off the apron she was wearing. The flour mess was still on the kitchen table. "I'll make the biscuits."

Dirk smiled. "I'll go ahead and cook the bacon, then."

Although Gabriella was sure he wanted to tease her, he didn't, much to her relief. After all, she was new to cooking and needed all the confidence she could muster.

As Dirk fried the bacon, she tried to look as confident as she could while making the biscuits again. A few minutes later, she slid them in the oven to bake, and then proceeded to clean up the flour mess on the table.

"Here," Dirk coaxed, taking the dishrag from her, "like this. Also, hold your hand at the edge of the table to catch the crumbs so they don't land on the floor, or you'll have to sweep it up." She felt like a child as he showed her how to properly wipe off the table while she watched. Then he rinsed out the rag and handed it back to her. "Now, you try."

She silently took the rag and repeated his actions, careful not to let the crumbs fall onto the floor.

Dirk nodded. "I'm impressed! You did that as if you've been baking and cleaning your whole life," he gushed, turning the bacon over in the skillet.

Gabriella smiled, appreciative of the compliment. "Let's just hope the biscuits taste as good."

Dirk laughed. "I'm sure they will." He looked at the eggs and let out a sigh. "Okay. So… do you know how to make poached eggs?"

She shook her head. "I never went into the kitchen at… my house." She was going to say at "the castle" but thought better of it.

Dirk smiled. "Well then, let's find out together." He opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a cookbook. "This cookbook belonged to my mother and has helped me quite a bit over the years." He opened the book, looked through the index, and then thumbed through until he found the recipe he was looking for.

Gabriella watched, impressed at his ability to stay calm, to find a solution, and not let anything get him down.

"Here we go," he announced and then handed it to her. "Read it and tell me what to do."

She chuckled as a mischievous grin curled her lips.

"With cooking," he amended, grinning as he shook his head.

"It says here to boil water…." Gabriella waited as Dirk primed the pump and filled a pan with water. "Next, you wait for it to boil."

"And after that?" Dirk asked.

"You swirl the water with a spoon, crack the egg into a cup, and gently pour it in. Wait three minutes and then take it out with a slotted spoon." Gabriella was having just as much fun watching Dirk as she was helping him make the poached eggs.

He looked up and caught her watching him and smiled. "Here," he coaxed, handing her the spoon. "Why don't you try?"

She waved him off. "Oh, I couldn't possibly—"

"Nonsense." Dirk gently pulled the cookbook from her hand, closed it, and then laid it down on the counter. Then he gave her the spoon, pulled her in front of him and wrapped his thick arms around her as his warmth surrounded her, causing her heart to flutter. He handed her the spoon, placed his hand over hers, and together, they stirred the egg. When it was ready, they lifted it out of the water and placed it on a clean plate.

She turned her head, and his lips were dangerously close to hers. "Would you like one, too?" she asked, her voice husky.

He nodded and leaned in, but then cleared his throat and backed away. Immediately, she felt his absence as the cold rushed in between them. "Yes, I would." He picked up the plate of bacon and placed it on the table. "I'll leave you to finish the eggs and I'll take the biscuits out of the oven and will set the table."

Gabriella nodded and made another poached egg. Within minutes, she scooped the egg out of the water and laid it on another clean plate. By the time she finished cooking another a few more, Dirk had set the table, along with the biscuits and bacon.

Gabriella set the plates on the table at what had become their place settings. "Everything looks wonderful. It's hard to believe that you did this in just a few minutes."

Dirk smiled as he held her chair for her. "You mean, we did it."

Gabriella sat down and Dirk pushed the chair under her. "Yes, we did." She folded her hands and perched them on the edge of the table. "Would you like to say the blessing?"

He nodded and grinned, then took her hand in his and said a beautiful blessing over the meal. "Everything looks great," he gushed as he offered her the bacon.

"We work well together." She smiled as she took a couple strips of bacon and a biscuit, and placed them beside her egg and then started eating. "If you don't mind me asking, whose clothes are these?"

Dirk set down his fork, obviously gathering his thoughts, and then took a sip of his coffee.

"I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I was being too personal." She started to get up, but Dirk's hand caught hers, bringing her to a stop. She sat back down.

He shook his head as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "No, it's okay." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts as she waited. "They were my wife's."

Gabriella's eyes opened wide in concern. "Your wife?"

He nodded.

"What happened?" she asked in a low voice.

He looked into her eyes. "Sarah and I were married in New York. We both wanted adventure, so we came west. And when we came to Whiskey River, I was happy here." He looked away, seemingly seeing something else in his mind's eye. "I had never really felt at home anywhere… until we came here. But it wasn't enough for her. She wanted more than Whiskey River… and more than me."

Gabriella patted his hand. "I'm so sorry."

He pulled away casually and folded his hands. "I knew she was unhappy, so I bought her things to try and make up for it, but nothing worked. I suspected this way of life had been too hard for her. She quickly became disenchanted and ended up leaving in the middle of the night, leaving all her clothes hanging in the closet. She left me a note saying that she was unhappy with Whiskey River and that she was leaving. I never heard from her again." He let out a deep breath.

Gabriella nodded, taking it all in. "Why do you still have her things?" Her voice was merely a whisper.

"At first, I thought maybe she would come back, so I put everything in the spare room." He shrugged. "But now, I've just gotten used to it being there."

"How long has she been gone?"

Dirk shrugged. "A few years." He let out a deep breath. "When I saw that she wasn't coming back, I eventually gave up hope. So, in an effort to have some semblance of closure, I went to Laramie and filed for divorce."

"I'm so sorry."

Dirk smiled. "It was a long time ago."

Gabriella placed her hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

He pulled his hand away and took another sip of his coffee. "So, what about you?"

She suddenly felt cold, so she wrapped her hands around her coffee cup for warmth. "I've never been married before."

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

She was taken aback by the directness of his question. She didn't want to try to explain that she would one day be expected to marry for the good of the monarchy, and that most men she met had only been interested in her because of her money, her title, or both. No, the man she ended up married to would probably be an arranged marriage to a peacock.

"I don't know. I always fancied myself married to someone I love." She shrugged as she looked in her coffee cup. "The men I met didn't qualify. I guess I never met the right person."

He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Your idea sounds good."

Gabriella looked up and raised an eyebrow.

One side of his mouth curled into a smile. "Since we're going to be together anyway for the holidays, would you like to make an agreement?"

Gabriella slowly pulled her hand away as she narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Dirk laughed at her reaction. "No, it's not what you think." He took her hand in his and she relaxed. "Since my men are gone, I need the help and you need a place to stay. So, why don't you stay here until New Years and take care of the house and cook. I'll take care of the ranch and the animals, and you can stay here for free."

Gabriella returned his smile, but her heart sank a bit. The suggestion that they spend the holidays together since they would be together anyway was valid. This arrangement would mean that she would have more time with him and would be able to spend Christmas and New Years with him, too. But then again, she would be expected to cook and clean in exchange for room and board—a business arrangement.

"Yes, of course! It sounds wonderful!" she answered, her eyes bright.

Dirk smiled as he narrowed his eyes. "Is it true that you've never had Thanksgiving dinner before?"

She smiled. "Yes, so you'll have to tell me what to cook and teach me how to do it."

Dirk chuckled. "I'll do my best."

A broad smile spread across Gabriella's face, for in her heart, there was no one she would rather spend the holidays with than him, business arrangement or not.