A painting of Hill Country hung behind his desk, and she wondered if it was a memory of his Texas home. Please sit, he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. He remained standing, pacing to the window that looked out over the corral. Your three months are up, he began without preamble. I believe it's time we discussed your position here.
Margaret's hands clenched in her lap. If my work hasn't been satisfactory, your work has been exemplary. He turned from the window, and she was surprised to see uncertainty in his eyes. The men have never been better fed or better cared for. The kitchen runs smoothly.
You've proven yourself capable of handling emergencies that would send most cooks running back to town. Then what? The question, Mrs. Sullivan—Margaret, is whether you want to continue in your current position. She blinked. Of course I do.
Unless you're dismissing me. No. He moved to lean against the desk, closer to her, but still maintaining distance. I'm asking if you want to remain as cook with wages increased to reflect your additional duties as ranch nurse and bookkeeper. "Or?
" The word hung between them. Margaret's pulse quickened. Or Jake reached into his jacket and withdrew a small velvet box. Margaret's breath caught as he opened it to reveal a simple gold band with a small sapphire. Nothing ostentatious, but beautiful in its simplicity.
Or you could consider a different position entirely, he said quietly. "As my wife. " The room seemed to spin slightly. Margaret gripped the chair arms, staring at the ring that caught the morning light. Jake, I know it's sudden.
I know you came here seeking employment, not this. He set the box on the desk between them, then moved to crouch before her chair, bringing them to eye level. But these past months have shone me something I thought I'd never find again. You've brought life back to this place. Margaret, to me, "I'm a widow, " she said weakly.
"Older than you set in my ways. You're a woman who makes me remember why mornings are worth facing. " He interrupted gently. Who turns a house into a home without even trying? Who faces down charging bulls and temperamental stoves with equal courage?
Despite everything, she laughed shakily. "The stove was more frightening. " "Margaret. " His hands covered hers where they gripped the chair. I'm not Charles.
I won't hide debts or protect you from hard truths. This life is difficult. The ranch is successful, but it requires constant work. I can be moody and distant. I'll never be a social man who enjoys town gatherings, but I can promise you partnership, respect, and if you'll let me, love.