by Jody Hedlund
Wendell shook his head, but before he could speak again, Mr. Peabody whirled on Zeke, his face masked with worry. “What should we do, Zeke? Hire guards? Build a wall around the house? Stock up on guns and ammunition?”
“This isn’t a war. It’s just a threat—”
“A death threat!”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Need I remind you that you were recently almost killed?”
“But I wasn’t, so stop worrying.”
“Well, someone needs to worry if you’re not going to.”
“Worry about what?” A voice from the doorway startled them, drawing their attention to Kate. She wore her hair in a long, loose braid with wisps framing her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes dreamy, likely filled with all the images she’d witnessed in the early morning, when all manner of critters came out to forage for food. She’d taken to sketching first thing after arriving, claiming she needed to draw what she’d seen before she forgot.
’Course he never protested. He loved watching her at work, the way her fingers flew over the page, the way she tilted her head to follow the flow of the drawing, the way she nibbled at her bottom lip when she paused to examine her work. More than that, he loved it when she’d hold the picture up and ask him what he thought, as if she truly cared about his impression.
She searched each of their faces, and as usual, the very touch of her gaze sent a sizzle into his blood, making it pump at double the speed.
“Zeke got a death threat,” Mr. Peabody said before Zeke could warn him not to mention it.
Kate pressed a hand to her lips, holding in the dismay that easily moved into her eyes and darkened the brown.
Standing near the door, Wendell handed Kate the card.
“Wait.” Zeke sat up. “Let’s not bother Kate with the details.”
But she was already reading the note. Her fingers pressed more firmly against her lips. When she finished, she read it again before she passed it back to Wendell. She was quiet a moment before meeting Zeke’s gaze.
“I’m to blame for what’s happening to you—”
“Nope. Not at all.”
“Next time they plan to kill you.”
“There won’t be a next time.” At least he hoped there wouldn’t be. Even so, he wasn’t living in fear because of this threat. That’s exactly what the person wanted him to do.
“You’re right.” Kate’s expression filled with determination. “There won’t be a next time. Because I know just what to do to make sure you won’t get hurt again.”
FOURTEEN
“IT WAS A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Wood.” Kate pushed out of her chair and stood in front of the open window, praying for a breath of fresh air to blow inside the house but getting none.
“The pleasure was all mine.” Of medium build and fair features, Mr. Wood remained in his chair on the opposite side of the parlor by the fireplace. The heat of the early September evening made a fire unnecessary, but Mr. Peabody had lit one anyway and had continued to enter the room and add fuel to it throughout the evening until it was blazing and crackling, making the room nearly unbearable.
On several occasions, Kate had thanked Mr. Peabody for his kind efforts and informed him they were just fine. Unfortunately, he hadn’t taken her hint and had been in and out at least a hundred times—not only to replenish the fire, but to complete other chores he’d insisted needed doing—sweeping, dusting, washing the window, and more.
Each of the men who’d come calling had attempted to move his chair away from the fireplace and position it closer to the window. But Mr. Peabody had insisted they return to the spot upon the hearth, rebuking them for not keeping an appropriate distance from her, although she suspected they were merely attempting to find relief from the heat.
She used her hand to fan her flushed face, wishing again for a breeze to cool her down. Her gown clung to her body, and loose hairs stuck to the back of her neck. But she wasn’t perspiring quite as much as Mr. Wood, who had streams trickling steadily down his forehead and cheeks.
She’d expected Mr. Wood to rise and exit eagerly, as her other callers had done. But he remained in his chair, peering over at her with the same wide smile he’d worn for the entire visit.
At another thump and bang against the far wall followed by shouting, she cringed. Zeke had been short-tempered and moody all afternoon. After his glaring and sulking, she’d been relieved to finish her day with him and begin accepting callers.
He’d made no pretense that he loathed her plan to resume courting the men of Williamsville and had begged her not to go through with the meetings. But ever since the note he’d received two days ago, she’d made up her mind to put an end to the threats once and for all. To do that, she had to show everyone she wasn’t engaged to Zeke and that friendship was the only thing happening between them.
Another bang against the wall seemed to shake the house and brought Mr. Wood up out of his chair, his smile finally dimming under the shadows of concern. “Mr. Hart must still be in a great deal of pain.”
“He’s certainly acting that way tonight, isn’t he?” She had a hunch he’d been throwing things at the wall to disturb her, and she had half a mind to march into his room and scold him for his antics.
Mr. Peabody was standing in the hallway, glaring into the parlor at Mr. Wood, his arms crossed, his feet spread. The housekeeper had given each of the men the same glare, one that was frightening enough to send them scurrying from the house.
“As much as I’d like to stay longer.” Mr. Wood wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “I can see that Mr. Peabody would like me to leave.”
“It is getting late,” she concurred, “and I don’t want to impose on his hospitality any longer than necessary.”
“Next time, may I suggest dinner and a walk?” he asked hopefully, as he stepped into the hallway.
She passed by Mr. Peabody who was shaking his head and mouthing the word no. She’d already had to squelch Herbert Frank’s hopes to participate in the courtship. Though he denied any part in the most recent threat, Kate had forced herself to stand her ground with him this time. But she had no reason to turn down this request from Mr. Wood. Did she?
“Perhaps,” she said with caution. “Although maybe we should spend more time getting to know each other first.”
Mr. Wood’s smile rose back into place. As he said his good-byes and stepped outside, she watched him stride down the street for a few seconds. Mr. Wood was the finest of the men who’d called that evening. He was the schoolteacher-turned-miner who’d loaned her the books she’d read to Zeke. Not only was Mr. Wood interesting and well learned, but he’d talked about the need to build a church and have a regular minister in town.
“Your thoughts, mademoiselle?” Mr. Peabody asked.
“He’s a nice man.” She closed the door.
“He’s too polite.”
She chuckled. “Can anyone be too polite?”
“He’s polite to the point of being uppity.”
“Fiddlesticks. He’s a perfectly fine gentleman.”
A crashing came from Zeke’s room, followed by an angry bellow.
Mr. Peabody clicked his tongue while she pressed her lips together. Zeke was behaving like a child, and she ought to simply leave without another word to him.
“Don’t be too upset with him,” Mr. Peabody whispered. “He’s just jealous.”
Kate released a frustrated sigh. “You know I’m doing this to keep him safe from the attacker.”
Mr. Peabody gave a solemn nod, his face flushed and sweating from the heat spreading throughout the house. “I understand completely. But perhaps you need to reassure him this is only a ruse and that you’re not intending to get serious with any of the men.”
“Mr. Peabody.” The truth was she had every intention of getting serious. She’d already had the conversation with the meddling housekeeper several times, but apparently she hadn’t explained herself well enough.
“Is anyone planni
ng to help me?” Zeke called. “Or do I have to sit here on the floor all night?”
She rushed forward at the same time as Mr. Peabody. As she reached Zeke’s bedroom door, she stopped short at the disaster. Shoes and clothes were strewn about. His pillows and blankets littered the floor. And he was sprawled out in the middle of it all.
Features contorted in pain, he clutched his plastered leg.
“What happened?” She dropped to her knees beside him.
“I tried to get up,” he said through gritted teeth. “But my crutch slipped and I fell.”
She assessed his leg, looking for anything amiss. “You’re not supposed to get out of bed without assistance.”
“Should I fetch Doc?” Mr. Peabody asked.
“Nope,” Zeke said testily. “Kate’s had enough callers for tonight.”
“The doctor is not one of my callers.”
“He sure acts like it.”
“Zeke Hart, that’s enough. You’re behaving badly.” She ran her hand along his cast. “Now, are you hurting anywhere else besides your leg?”
He shook his head. “Just my pride.”
Her frustration returned in full force. “If you ask me, your pride needed a good fall.”
For several minutes, she worked with Mr. Peabody to lift Zeke until he was standing, and then they helped him hobble to his bed and lowered him to the edge.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to fetch the doctor?” Mr. Peabody smoothed his mustache and goatee back into place.
“Fetch the volunteer fire department.” Zeke’s tone was laced with mirth. “The plan to overheat the men has overheated the house.”
Kate gasped. “The plan to overheat the men?”
Mr. Peabody’s face turned from rosy red to a dark crimson. “Time for me to be going along. I need to finish weeding the garden.” He bustled from the room, as though the success of the garden depended upon how much weeding he accomplished in the remaining few minutes of daylight.
Once they were alone, Kate crossed her arms.
Zeke stared at the floor.
She tapped her foot. “Well?”
“It was Mr. Peabody’s idea.”
“Then you’re telling me you had nothing to do with overheating the men?”
“That one was his. Mine was throwing things against the wall.”
“Zeke Hart! You’re too much.” As soon as the words were out, she slanted him a glare. “And that’s not a compliment.”
He grinned as if proud of his conspiring with Mr. Peabody.
“With the death threat, you know I was meeting with the men to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Fine. Then you have to accept the fact that I’m meeting with the men to find a husband.”
His glare came back in full withering heat. “Not in my house.”
“I’ve already planned the meetings. Tomorrow night. With four more men.”
“Cancel them,” he growled, his brows furrowing above flashing eyes.
She wavered only a moment before lifting her chin. “No.”
“It’s my house. I refuse to allow it. And that’s all there is to it.”
At the challenge in his raised voice, she stiffened. “You refuse?”
“Aye. I refuse to let you flaunt yourself in front of a parade of strangers.” He was practically shouting.
“I’m not flaunting myself!”
“I heard you tonight with those men, and you were flaunting.”
Her anger was growing hotter with each passing comment. She wanted to reach out and shake him and make him see reason, but she squelched the impulse and instead spun to go.
He grabbed her hand and tugged her. The motion set her off balance making her fall against him. Before she could right herself, he tugged her again, and this time her momentum landed her squarely on his lap.
She sat motionless, too stunned to move. His face was only inches from hers, and their ragged breathing filled the space between them. She’d been trying so hard over the past month to ignore her attraction to him. But his green eyes were too close and intense, his hard jaw flexed with determination, and his strong mouth pressed together with stubbornness.
Why did he have to be so handsome?
She started to shove against his chest, but he slipped a hand behind her neck and guided her closer.
She could see where he was leading her, and a part of her warned her to resist. But another part of her had been waiting for this moment her entire life. As silly as it might be, she’d dreamed of the day she’d be this close, and he’d finally kiss her. Now her nerves tingled with the desire to experience this, to sate her curiosity and her need for him.
His attention had shifted to her mouth and his lids dropped halfway, revealing his long dark lashes. He angled in but then hovered just out of reach, the warmth of his breath tantalizing her.
The very moment of waiting was wrought with exquisite pleasure that unraveled inside her. As he leaned in even closer, he still held himself back, as though testing how far he could go before she cut him off. Or perhaps he was giving her a chance to say no.
Her chest rose and fell in anticipation, and she couldn’t make herself move away. Instead of jumping up from his lap and behaving as a true lady would, she tilted her head a fraction closer to his.
Apparently, the slight movement was the final invitation Zeke needed. He closed the distance by leaning in, and she met him in the middle with too much eagerness. His mouth covered hers at the same time she opened up to him.
He deepened the kiss so that it was at once passionate and consuming. Fire, hotter than the flames that had burned upon the parlor hearth, spread through her veins.
She’d kissed men before. Chastely. Sparingly. But no kiss could compare to this one. Nothing could compare with the sensations rippling along her nerves.
Her hands had a mind of their own, lifting to his shoulders, skimming down his arms, and gliding over the muscles she’d admired over the past weeks when he’d gone without a shirt.
At her touch, his hand at the back of her neck grazed her braid to the end. His fingers deftly untied the leather strip and began to unravel her hair. All the while, his mouth had possession of hers, tasting and feasting as if he’d never get enough.
When he freed her hair, he delved his fingers in deeply, tangling and tugging and losing himself there. A low moan at the back of his throat couldn’t escape past their kiss, but it reverberated through her.
This passion with Zeke was better—far better—than she’d ever imagined. And she didn’t want to stop kissing him. Didn’t want to break free of his magnetism. Didn’t want to do anything but melt into him.
The loud clearing of a throat penetrated her hazy passion, but Zeke’s hand intertwining into her hair kept her locked against him. She didn’t have the will or strength to tug away.
“Monsieur.” Mr. Peabody spoke from the doorway. “Please forgive me for interrupting.”
Kate attempted to pull back, but Zeke pursued her, capturing her mouth again and in the process somehow making her his willing captive.
“Monsieur.” Mr. Peabody’s voice hinted at mirth. “I regret to inform you that your company has arrived.”
Company? Who was Zeke expecting?
She released Zeke and pushed against his chest to free herself.
“No, don’t go,” he whispered hoarsely even as he tried to hold on to her. “I’ll send them away.” He grazed his lips across her chin to her jaw and then to the sensitive skin on her neck.
“Zeke,” she said breathlessly. Her body responded with the need for him, but her mind urged her to stand up and cool off.
At a cough in the hallway that was deeper and more pronounced than Mr. Peabody’s, her eyes shot open. Her gaze landed upon Mr. Peabody in the doorway. His mustache curled up with a smug smile, as though he’d stumbled upon something that pleased him immensely.
Was he happy she and Zeke were kissing? Was this another one of their plan
s tonight? Maybe he’d left so Zeke would have the opportunity to kiss her.
Indignation began to pool inside. But before she could jump up and question either one, her gaze snagged on the two men standing in the hallway behind Mr. Peabody. Both had removed their hats and were staring with wide eyes at her and Zeke. She’d seen them in meetings with Zeke before and had finally understood that they, like Zeke, owned profitable mines, and together the three had formed a mining board.
“Oh dear!” This time she wrenched upward, giving Zeke no choice but to release her.
“Wait.” Even though he was injured, he was fast. He snagged her around the waist and began to drag her back toward his lap.
“You have visitors,” she whispered, mortified by the unsteadiness of her breathing.
He shrugged, his half-lidded, long-lashed eyes regarding her with undeniable desire.
“And I need to go.” She forced a firmness to her tone she didn’t feel and then broke free, this time moving beyond his reach.
He fumbled for his crutch, as though he planned to stand and come after her. “Don’t go yet, Kate. We need to talk.”
She crossed to the door, sensing every eye upon her. Her cheeks burned with the growing realization that these men had witnessed her sitting on Zeke’s lap and passionately kissing him. What must they think of her now?
And what of Zeke? If word spread that she’d been kissing Zeke, his attacker would surely strike again. He’d be in worse danger than before.
“Please, Kate,” Zeke called.
Thankfully, Mr. Peabody stepped aside to let her pass. The men in the hallway moved back to give her plenty of room as well. She could feel their curious gazes upon her as she strode to the front door. But she didn’t acknowledge them. She doubted she’d be able to look them in the eyes ever again, not after embarrassing herself so thoroughly.
As she exited the house and closed the door firmly behind her, she didn’t care she’d forgotten her sketch pad and pencil, or left behind the tin of beignets Mr. Peabody had set aside for her to take home after she’d raved over the sweet delicacy.