The Rugged Hunter and His Delicate Heiress

Chapter 4: Mr. Rook's Offer

I met Silas Rook at breakfast, and he addressed Cole as if I were an empty chair.

"Mercer, I'm glad you came to your senses about the north acreage."

Cole poured coffee. "I haven't changed my mind."

Rook's smile hardly shifted. "You don't need all that ground. Your lodge is barely running as it is."

I put my spoon down. "The lodge is running well enough to host your party."

Rook glanced at me. "Mrs. Mercer, I'm sure the arrangements are charming. But the land is a practical matter."

"I know. I reviewed the accounts."

Cole's eyes flicked toward mine. I couldn't tell whether he was pleased or annoyed.

Rook returned his attention to Cole. "You've been offered a fair price."

"Not for the land."

"For trees and stone."

"For the trail access, too," I said. "Your offer doesn't list the value of the river crossing."

Rook sat back. "You've been reading private papers?"

"The offer was on the table."

"I was speaking to your husband."

"I'm sure he can speak for himself."

Cole's fingers paused on his coffee cup. "She's right about the crossing."

Rook's smile faded. "The crossing is useless if the trail isn't maintained."

"I can read a map," I said. "The trail connects to the eastern road."

"Which is closed after heavy rain."

"Only for a day or two."

His eyes hardened. "You may have handled ledgers, Mrs. Mercer, but that doesn't make you a land agent."

"No. It makes me a person who can read the document you put in front of me."

Cole cleared his throat. "The price is still too low."

Rook's expression settled back into courtesy. "I'll leave the offer with you. I hope we can keep business separate from personal matters."

"So do I," I said.

After Rook left, Cole gathered the breakfast plates.

"Was it foolish to answer him?" I asked.

"No."

"Was I wrong?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell me when I am?"

"Yes."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't waste words."

"Not when a short one will do."

I followed him to the kitchen. "What does he want the land for?"

"Access to the river and the eastern timber."

"Can he get it without buying from you?"

"Not legally."

"Then why is he so sure he'll get it?"

"He thinks I'll need the money."

"Do you?"

Cole wiped a plate. "I need the lodge to keep its bookings. I don't need Rook's money."

"Those are not the same thing."

"No."

I offered to review the figures. This time Cole set the books out without hesitation.

The sums showed the lodge had a narrow margin. If Rook's party canceled, Cole would be in trouble. If he sold the north acreage, he would have enough money to keep the lodge running, but the trail and river crossing would be out of his hands.

"Have you considered raising your rates?" I asked.

"People pay for the hunt, not the beds."

"Then improve the beds."

He looked toward the bedroom hallway. "You have an opinion on that?"

"I have opinions on everything."

"I've noticed."

We wrote out a list of small improvements: warmer bedding, better meals, a proper schedule of guides, and clear prices for extra trips. I suggested inviting guests who wanted a quieter stay, not only the hunting clubs Rook supplied.

Cole listened. He asked questions. He did not tell me my ideas were precious or impractical.

By noon, I had made a clean copy of the lodge's new rate sheet.

"You're good at this," Cole said.

"I was taught to keep household accounts."

"You're good at more than that."

I looked up too quickly. "You don't know enough about me to say."

"I know what I've seen."

The praise should have felt like a gift. Instead, I heard the space between what he knew and what I wanted him to know.

That evening, he came in with rain soaking his coat. He paused when he saw me in the hall.

"I'll change."

"I wasn't going to complain."

"I know."

He went to the washroom. I stood there, listening to the water run, and wondered why his consideration felt more intimate than a touch.