nature that fanned the flames of curiosity. She should make more of an effort, they insisted, allow people to get to know her. Then they’d see she didn’t have anything in common with Manuel besides his last name.
“You should hear Isabel singing around the house,” Honor told Ben. “She has a lovely soprano voice.”
“Is that so?” A new reserve held his charm in check.
She imagined his pride had been wounded by her bluntness. He was accustomed to silvery praise and unwavering adulation. Ben MacGregor wouldn’t ever get that from her.
“You should convince her to come with us,” Carmen exclaimed, clapping her hands. “The four of us can go together. It will be tremendous fun!”
“I’m not certain my opinion will hold much sway,” he allowed, his enigmatic gaze locked on her. “You do work very hard, Isabel. How long has it been since you’ve done something out of the ordinary? An activity unconnected with this farm?”
A rebellious impulse reared its head. Even she had to admit her life was a cycle of ordered routine. “I’d planned on spending the evening before the fire with a good book.”
Carmen rolled her eyes and groaned. “You do that every weekend night!”
Isabel refused to be embarrassed. It was no secret that she was a spinster by choice.
“We get hot cider at most of the homes we visit. If it’s been a profitable year, Mr. Hatfield hands out sacks full of apples, oranges, peppermints and nuts. Laura Hatfield hinted this year’s been a good one.” Honor’s dark eyes gleamed. “It’s time for you to break out of your shell.” Linking their arms, she tugged her toward the door. “You could do with a bit of Christmas spirit.”
“I’ll do your hair.” Carmen’s glee was undeniable. “You will wait for us, right, Deputy?”
Isabel silently willed him to refuse. His slow-growing smile dissolved her hopes.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Isabel’s mood plummeted. Not only would she be attending the serenade, but she’d be arriving with the most popular bachelor in these mountains. This night would be talked about for weeks, possibly months, to come. Her life’s goal to avoid attention had been thwarted by her interfering sisters and one highly vexing lawman.
* * *
“What do you think, Deputy? Doesn’t she look festive?”
Hands in his pockets, Ben turned from studying the somber family photograph on the mantel and caught his breath. Carmen urged Isabel forward while Honor trailed behind, checking their handiwork.
A dozen flowery compliments popped into his head. He suppressed them all. She would label whatever he said insincere, so he opted for a casual response. “Indeed, she does.”
Her dress had been crafted of lush velvet, a deep green the color of a spruce bough. The snug bodice had a rounded neckline trimmed with ribbon and gave way to a swath of material falling in graceful folds to kiss the floorboards. Isabel’s hair had been swept off her neck and coiled into an elegant style. She was the epitome of feminine sophistication.
Her sisters looked disappointed by his low-key reaction. Isabel avoided his gaze as she circumvented the furniture in a swish of skirts.
“Are we riding or walking?”
“I readied the wagon,” Ben said, joining her at the coatrack. While she tugged on her gloves, he retrieved her wool cloak and held it open for her. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Isabel pursed her lips and, after the slightest hesitation, stood still and allowed him to drape the heavy garment over her shoulders. He took the liberty of fastening the clasps, taking a moment to breathe in her unique, feminine scent, a blend of spices and orange.
Her gaze pinned his. “We’re going to create a spectacle, arriving with you.”
“Yes, we will,” he concurred with a grin. “I’ll be the envy of every man there.”
She brushed his hands aside and took a step back. “And we will be unpopular with the women.”
“Only the ones without beaux,” Carmen inserted with a straight face.
At the Johnson farm, the serenade’s starting point, he assisted the Flores sisters from the wagon and looked up to find a veritable sea of shocked countenances. Three wagons fitted with hay squares would take the group around to the appointed residences. Already some of the young people had found seats. Others conversed in clusters about the yard.
Beside him, Isabel stood as stiff as a mannequin, braced for flaming arrows to descend. He could almost see her hatching an escape route.
“Everyone’s staring.”
He dipped his head close. “That’s because they’re as in awe of your beauty as I am.”
Her dark gaze swerved to his in instant irritation. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, look, there’s John.” Carmen nudged Honor.
John Littleton separated himself from his friends. Taller than most, the dark-headed farmer was easy to pick out in a crowd. His gray eyes glowed with pride as he put his arm around Honor and kissed her cheek.
To Ben’s knowledge, the couple had been together for more than a year and were obviously crazy about each other. He wondered why they hadn’t already set a wedding date. The Littleton family had a thriving farm on the west side of town. John’s older sister had already married and moved away, leaving a starter cabin uninhabited.
“Good evening, ladies. Deputy.” Smiling, he raised his brows at Isabel. “I’m surprised to see you here. What did your sisters have to do to convince you?”
“They didn’t give me much of a choice.” Though her tone was disgruntled, Isabel’s expression had softened somewhat. “How is that knife working out for your father?”
“He’s been showing it off to his friends, so I’d say he’s very satisfied. They’re pestering him to divulge where he got it.”
“He won’t, will he?” Isabel asked, worried.
“John said he would need one for himself in order to continue keeping your secret.” Honor snuggled close to his side and grinned cheekily up at him.
“Don’t believe her.” He chuckled. “She’s simply stumped as to what to get me for Christmas.”
Reaching up, she straightened his tie. “That’s not true. I’ve actually already decided on a gift, and it has nothing to do with weapons.”
He snapped his fingers. “A shame.”
John brought out a sassy side in the quiet girl. Glancing at Isabel, Ben was shocked to witness her open approval. Apparently her dislike of men didn’t extend to her sister’s beau. How had John managed to get in her good graces?
“Virgil and Timothy have saved us a spot in their wagon,” John said. “Would you like to sit with us?”
