Yellow Rose Bride Read Online Free

their budding relationship would stop.
    â€œWhat did you tell your father?”
    â€œTold him I’d be with Tate Morgan shoeing a horse. He’ll say I was if anyone asks. What about you?”
    â€œDoing needlepoint with the new neighbor, Nettie Donaldson. I asked God for forgiveness.”
    Even now, years later, Adam could smell the sweetness of her skin, still see the silken curtain of her hair floating in the water—
    â€œAm I interrupting, son?”
    Adam brought the chair legs to the floor with a thump, sat up straight and forced himself to focus on his father, who stood framed in the doorway. Still a commanding figure, at fifty-two, his snow-white hair was the only external evidence that time was passing. But Adam knew his father’s health had not been good of late.
    â€œNo, come in, Dad.” P.K. entered the study, carrying a foul-looking herbal tonic. He caught Adam’s glance at the glass and shrugged. “Rain has my knee acting up.”
    Sinking into the oversize leather wingback chair, he stretched his legs out in front of him, balancing the glass on his thigh.
    â€œNice party last night.”
    Laying a stack of papers aside, Adam reached for the grain report he’d been reading earlier.
    â€œYes, Alma knows how to throw a party.”
    â€œMmm-hmm,” P.K. mused. “Don’t know what we’d do without Alma. Fine woman. Beth have a good time?”
    â€œSeemed to.”
    â€œNow there’s a woman you can be proud of, son. Beth’s an excellent choice for a wife. Comes from good stock. None finer than Leighton and Gillian Baylor. You’ll be starting a family right away?”
    Adam shook his head, negative.
    â€œHave you discussed kids?” P.K. asked. “You’re not getting any younger.”
    Adam focused on the grain report. “What’s age got to do with it? I know many a man that’s fathered a child late in life.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. Two young people in love—I’d have thought the subject might have come up. Thought maybe new ways had changed the idea of not discussing it until after the marriage, but apparently it hasn’t.” P.K. sipped his tonic. “You want children, don’t you? None of us is getting any younger, you know—”
    â€œActually, Dad, I haven’t thought about it.” Children were the last thing on his mind. He had to get through the wedding first.
    â€œI wouldn’t put it off too long,” P.K. said. “Time passes quickly.”
    â€œI know, Dad. You want grandchildren.”
    â€œI do, and I’m not apologizing for it. Should have a houseful by now.”
    Adam quieted his irritation. What was this talk of love and grandkids? P.K. Baldwin didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body. He tossed the grain report onto the desk. “I guess we’re pretending this isn’t an arranged marriage. If Beth didn’t bring a dowry of five hundred acres of prime land you wouldn’t be so eager to have her become a Baldwin.”
    P.K. lifted his glass, staring at the murky liquid. “That’s a little cold, isn’t it?”
    â€œBut true.” Adam’s tone hardened. “The town’s abuzz with the Baylors’ daughter marrying into the family.”
    â€œShe’ll make you a good wife.”
    â€œAnd the Baylors’ land doesn’t hurt a thing. That right?” P.K.’s features remained as bland as Alma’s bread pudding. “Son. It’s only land, and we have all we need. I’m thinking of your future happiness.”
    Alma bustled in, bearing a tray with cups and a silver pot of fresh coffee. The Hispanic woman was more than a housekeeper—she was a vital part of the Baldwin family. She had single-handedly raised Andrew, Pat and Joey after Ceilia Baldwin’s death when Adam was ten.
    â€œI thought you gentlemen might enjoy coffee.”
    â€œNone for me,