by Isabel Morin
It didn’t escape him that his vow to stay away from her had already failed. He hadn’t planned it, but Charlie had seemed in a rush, and without thinking he’d told him he’d make sure she got home. Come to think of it, Charlie had given him a queer sort of look, but he hadn’t taken any note of it at the time. He was too pleased with the idea of seeing Rose to consider his actions.
He wasn’t sorry either. Their outing had been pleasant and cordial, and he could almost believe they were becoming friends. He knew a great deal more about her now than he had before, though much was still a mystery.
Still, as much as he enjoyed knowing more about her, it was all he could do to hold his tongue when she mentioned the farmer waiting for her back home. Her expression had turned pensive, and everything in her seemed to dim when she spoke of him.
The fact that she was bound, more or less, to another man was reason enough to stay away from her. But she was far from her friends and family, and she needed someone to look out for her. Which left him, if only he could keep from being one of the things from which she needed protection.
He brought the horses to a stop a short distance from the drive so that no one would see them return together. Rose woke slowly, her eyes soft and unfocused as she looked at him. In that one moment between sleep and wakefulness she smiled the loveliest, most heartbreaking smile Luke had ever seen. His breath caught in his throat.
Who was going to protect him from her?
Then she looked around and, getting her bearings, came fully awake. He could see her blush even as she thanked him, and just like that a wave of lust and tenderness swept over him and pulled him under.
She gathered her basket and rushed off without waiting for him to hand her down, walking down the drive toward the back entrance. She was not even allowed to enter the front door of his father’s house. Rose, who was finer in every way than anyone who walked through that door.
There was something between them. He was sure she felt it as well, though in many ways that was even worse than if it had been just his own foolish longing.
Chapter Five
Rose sat in Vivian’s parlor, fretting over what to do with the information gleaned from Mr. Fletcher’s office. It was possible her father had been shot before Mr. Byrne visited the farm, but Rose didn’t believe it. Everything pointed to someone from the railroad, and that someone was probably Mr. Byrne. The question was why. Did he think it would make Olivia more likely to sell? It was a drastic measure to take for such an unpredictable outcome.
“If only I knew if Mr. Byrne did in fact ride to the farm that day, then I would know for certain. Someone would have to listen to me.”
“But you’ve discovered so much already!” Vivian exclaimed. “You mustn’t expect so much of yourself.”
Realizing she was once again worrying away her cherished weekly visit, Rose made a concerted effort to change the subject to something more pleasant. As usual, she stayed for the evening meal, but she lingered a bit too long and in consequence found herself leaving town much later than she intended.
The sun was just beginning to set, the western sky a display of fierce orange and deepening blue. But though it was a lovely time of night, she would soon be walking in the pitch black. She suffered not a few hoots and hollers by day, even with her face completely obscured by her bonnet, so she had no desire to test the limits of Boston’s male population after the sun went down. But it seemed she would have no choice.
She had been walking for only a short time and had just made the turn onto Beacon Street when she heard the easy canter of a horse coming up behind her, gradually slowing until it kept pace beside her. The sides of her bonnet acted like blinders, so she could see nothing without turning her head to look.
Resolutely she continued walking, hoping that by pretending the rider did not exist he would give up and ride away. Another minute passed and tension twisted itself inside her until she forgot the perspiration trickling under her chemise and felt only a rising sense of panic.
“Rose?”
Rose stopped in her tracks, finally looking around and up.
Luke. He smiled easily at her from atop his horse, looking far too handsome for anyone’s good. She kept her voice modulated and a bit severe in order to cover the ridiculous elation she felt at seeing him.
“What do you mean, sneaking up on me like that? Why didn’t you speak sooner?”
“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to frighten you. I was merely unsure if it were you. Now perhaps you might answer something for me. Why are you out walking alone at this time of night? It will be full dark before you reach Cider Hill.”
“I was visiting a friend, as I do every Monday, and I lost track of the time. I don’t particularly relish being out this late either, but you needn’t trouble yourself on my account. I’m perfectly capable of getting back on my own.”
Despite her reassurances he swung down from his horse.
“You must be tired. Let me give you a ride back.”
“I can’t ride on that horse with you!”
“I see. I suppose it wouldn’t be proper, is that right? Well then, I’ll hand you up and you can ride while I walk beside you.”
Rose was too surprised to say anything for a moment, and instead stood pensively wondering what to do. Mounting a horse without a sidesaddle was enough to cause looks from everyone they passed on the street. On the other hand, it was getting dark, and no one knew her anyway. She had ridden horses astride often enough on the farm when she was younger, so it was not a question of ability. And she was awfully tired.
Luke stood patiently waiting, as if he knew she needed to come to the decision on her own. Finally she nodded.
“That’s very kind of you,” she said stiffly, uncomfortably aware of how generous his offer was.
“Think nothing of it. You’d have done the same for me, I have no doubt.”
She had no idea how to respond to such a statement until she noticed the glint in his eye and realized he was teasing her. She couldn’t help but smile at him. Walking to the horse’s left side, she stepped into Luke’s laced fingers and let him boost her into the saddle.
Once seated, she took a moment to arrange her skirts, trying in vain to cover her legs. There was nothing for it though; her ankles and calves were revealed, as were her dingy stockings, rolled to her ankles in deference to the July heat. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Luke moved her leg forward in order to shorten the stirrup leather.
Was it her imagination, or did his touch linger for a moment longer than necessary? She wished she had silk stockings like the ladies he must know. Then she caught herself. Why in the world should she care what sort of stockings she had on?
He adjusted the stirrup on the other side, his manner somewhat more subdued now. When he finished he looked up at her.
The sun had made its way down to the tops of the trees, taking the worst of the heat with it. He was standing near enough that she felt his warmth and could yet see his dark eyes as he studied her. For a moment she thought he would say something, but instead he gave a little shake of his head and wordlessly led the horse forward.
***
Luke tried to think of something other than Rose’s legs. He set his mind on a problem he was having with one of his maps and when that didn’t distract him, he mentally composed a letter to a cousin in New York.
All to no avail. It was the woman riding beside him who filled his thoughts. Just touching her leg had nearly filled him to bursting. He had to pretend to be unaffected, but he heard her quick intake of breath when he touched her, and it was all he could do not to run his hand up her long, shapely leg to where her skirts covered her, and then beyond.
His reaction to her was the very reason he spent so few evenings at his father’s house. Instead he’d been taking many of his meals at a club in town, anxious to keep his contact with her to a minimum.
They said very little on the way to the house. The things he was thinking could not be said a
loud and he could think of no small talk. Nor did she seem inclined toward idle chatter. He was glad just to be near her, glad she didn’t have to walk home alone. But he wouldn’t always know when she needed help. What if he hadn’t happened along tonight? Who knew what might have occurred, who might have bothered her?
No, he could not be sure he would be around when she needed someone, and the chances were he would not be. He had no claim on her, he wanted none, and yet the fact that he couldn’t ensure her safety caused a clenching in his gut.
If she were his, he’d make sure she never had to walk alone at night, or any other time. Nor would she have to lift a finger if she didn’t care to. And she’d have a new pair of silk stockings for every day of the year. He would personally remove them every night.
His reaction to her was unprecedented. She’d done nothing to deliberately entice him and yet he had never wanted a woman more. So much so that all rational thought fled at the sight of her ankle. He had to pull himself together.
When they reached the house he made sure to stop where they couldn’t be seen. Though it was clear Rose needed no help getting down, it was all he could do to keep himself from lifting her to the ground. Any excuse to put his hands on her.
“Are you not going in?” Rose asked, as he took the reins from her and swung up into the saddle. “I thought you were going this way, or I’d never have inconvenienced you as I have.” Her face was solemn, her eyes anxious.
He had intended to return for the night, but now he was entirely too worked up to go inside. He’d ride until his blood cooled instead.
“You did nothing of the kind, Rose,” he answered. “The distance is nothing on horseback. I daresay I’d go much farther than that for you.”
He gave her a devil-may-care smile to let her know she should not think twice about it. An answering smile lit her face, though he could see her uncertainty. He knew he should go, and yet he hesitated still, unable to ride away from her.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice low and husky. “You’re very kind.” But he didn’t feel kind. He wanted that voice whispering to him in bed, telling him what she wanted, how good he made her feel.
She looked at him a moment, as if about to say something, before turning and walking away. He watched her slim figure, lit by moonlight, until she disappeared into the house. Then he urged his horse into a gallop, hoping to outrun his need.
***
The next Monday evening Rose managed to leave Vivian’s house at a more reasonable hour. As she headed down Beacon Street she could not help replaying in her mind the previous week’s trip back to Cider Hill with Luke. She could almost feel his hand on her ankle, see his strong profile as he led the horse.
He had walked beside her nearly six miles just to see her safely back, then turned around and left. She had not seen him since, but even now her thoughts were full of him, desire and guilt warring with each other. Why couldn’t she feel this way for Will? The mild, comfortable response Will called up in her was no match for what Luke Fletcher did to her. In fact all thought of Will fled when she was in Luke’s presence. It was only afterward that guilt descended.
Why must her heart beat uncontrollably for the absolutely most unsuitable man? How could she stay true to Will when she could barely conjure his face? Every time she tried, she saw Luke, his strong cheekbones and stubborn jaw, those eyes that seemed to notice everything.
As if materializing from this very thought, there he was waiting in a buggy at the very place he’d come upon her the week before. Grinning playfully, he jumped out of the carriage to stand beside her, his jacket off and his shirtsleeves turned up to just below the elbow. Just the sight of him sent a wave of giddiness over her.
But why was he here? Could it be that he’d paid for the carriage and waited for her just to see her back to his father’s house? A thrill of hope and fear travelled through her at the thought. But perhaps that was presumptuous, and he was merely on some other errand and happened to see her.
She paused a moment to compose herself before crossing the final few yards to him.
“What are you doing in this carriage? You ride a horse.”
“Generally speaking, yes. But I guess this is your lucky day, since I happen to be in this handsome contraption. I gather you’re returning to Cider Hill. May I drive you?”
Rose hesitated, wondering what it meant that he’d been waiting for her. She knew with every part of her she should say no. There was no reason to ride with him, as she had plenty of time before sunset, and yet she couldn’t refuse.
Luke watched her speculatively, and he looked relieved when she nodded her assent and allowed him to hand her up.
Once again she recalled with utter clarity his hands in her hair, his lips on hers. Mortified at the blush she felt burn her cheeks, she turned away for a few moments as if entranced by the passing scenery.
He kept the horses at an easy trot and they rode for a few minutes in what might have seemed to an outsider like companionable silence, but to Rose felt fraught with tension. Glancing over, she watched the play of muscles in his forearms as he controlled the team, and could not help noticing how the material of his trousers pulled tautly over his thighs. He was so big beside her, so overwhelming.
A muscle worked in his jaw and she wondered what he was thinking about. Was he angry? He didn’t seem so, and yet he did not seem quite so easy with her as he had at first. Too soon they arrived in sight of his father’s house and he helped her down.
“Thank you, Mr. Fletcher. Once again, I find myself in your debt.”
“You don’t owe me anything. It’s for my benefit, really. It eases my mind to know you’re not walking alone.”
“I see. So it is I doing you a favor,” Rose replied, a teasing note in her voice. “It would seem you should thank me.”
“It would seem so,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “I thank you for the pleasure of your company, and for allaying my fears by allowing me to escort you. Perhaps you’ll do so again.”
And with that he made a low bow and stepped back into the buggy. The horses pulled away, their hooves a quick staccato as they disappeared around a curve in the road.
And so it went every Monday from then on, though before long he began waiting for her outside the March residence. She didn’t ask why he came for her, but she was certain the carriage was purely for her benefit, as every other day he was on horseback. Each time he dropped her off well before the drive to the house in order to avoid being seen with her, then turned around and headed back to town.
Their drives amounted to only slightly more than an hour a week, yet it felt to her that every other day was merely a prelude to their time together. She could not help but notice that he seemed to enjoy the drives as well, even going so far some days as to take a longer route if they were in the midst of a conversation.
He was friendly, warm and cordial, but there was nothing in his manner that suggested he was hoping for something in return. Their previous charged encounters seemed like figments of her imagination, except that she felt the same thrill each time she saw him, as if her body had already learned what it meant to be near Luke Fletcher and no change in his demeanor, no truce or understanding, could convince her treacherous body that anything had changed. Despite her awareness of him, she was grateful he didn’t force her to end those drives, as she would have done had he tried to kiss her again.
Before long they were talking about all manner of things. She learned about his travels across the country, surveying and mapping the western territories. He described trekking across the Rocky Mountains when a storm hit, how the dull browns of the desert bloomed with fiery colors in springtime, and countless other fascinating stories of places he’d been. One day he showed her rocks embedded with flecks of gold and others with strange crystals on them, and explained the geological forces that created such specimens.
Rose tried to tell him that her stories were not nearly so interesting, but he truly see
med to want to hear about her family and the farm. She couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt and doubt, for talking about her life only served to remind her that her connection to him was part of a pretense. Whatever truth came out of her presence among the Fletchers, her deception would cause pain to both of them.
Even so, she couldn’t resist his genuine interest in her memories of Boston before she left, as well as stories about life on the farm. He even asked about Will, though he frowned all the while she spoke, as if it displeased him to know more.
“He lives on a neighboring farm. We met a year ago,” she said, looking down at her hands. “He’s good and kind, and he’s been very patient. I haven’t always known what I wanted, and even when I did, it didn’t always sit well with him.”
They were near to his father’s house, but Luke took a turn to lengthen their drive. Rose smiled to herself, though she was not inclined to talk overlong about Will with him.
“You mean you didn’t know whether you wanted to marry him?” he asked bluntly.
“I…there was a time when I didn’t know what I wanted,” she said. She didn’t mention how her doubts had resurfaced since spending time with him. “Promising oneself in marriage is the biggest decision a person must make. It determines one’s future happiness. But I did finally decide.”
She looked at him then. Why should she be the only one answering such questions?
“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live the rest of your life with one woman?” she asked.
There was a long pause before he answered. When he spoke he looked straight ahead, his voice betraying no emotion.
“I married when I was but twenty-one to a girl I met in England. I brought Catherine back to Boston but she took ill when she was with child. The baby died first and she not long afterward.”
Rose looked at him in horror. She would never have guessed such a thing about him. But then, she hardly knew him, did she?