by Caroline Lee
“A runaway cart knocked Dougal down, ran over his chest. Broke most o’ him. The doctor wouldn’t help him without money, an’ he was in so much pain…” For the first time since he’d faced her, Gordon turned away, his eyes closed on an emotion she couldn’t see, but could guess. “I did my best, but he slipped away.” He swallowed, and Briar felt the tears pricking her own eyes. “Vincenzo nabbed me three days later, an’ I figured that I didn’t have any reason t’ stay, so I took the job he offered.”
There wasn’t anything Briar could say, so she didn’t. After a heartbeat or ten, Gordon snorted, a sort of hollow laugh, and ran one hand across his head, pulling at the knot of hair. “I was never as good at purse-snatching as Dougal, but imagine my surprise when this hideous, blind monster o’ a man lifted me by my shirtfront an’ said ‘Yer comin’ with me, boy’ an’ dragged me away. Me! I was eleven stone if I was an ounce.” Briar had to admit that it would’ve been disconcerting, to meet Vincenzo for the first time like that. But she also knew that despite his appearance, the blinded virtuoso was in complete control of his other faculties. “Best thing I ever did was not let my pride get in front o’ my brain.”
And in a sudden burst of insight, Briar understood him. Understood everything about him.
She straightened away from the counter. “I know why you took the job he offered you.”
“Because I didn’t have anythin’ left.” Gordon’s half-smiled was forced when he met her eyes. “Because he was the first man t’ ever tell me I could be better than I was. Because he made me believe that it was alright to dream again.”
“Maybe.” She swallowed down her nervousness, and took a step toward him. “But it’s more than that.”
“Oh, aye?” He raised a brow. “I had no way of knowin’ he’d become a friend, Briar.”
“You took that job he offered, Gordon MacKinnon, because he needed you.”
In the silence, his eyes roamed her face, as if looking for some indication that she was teasing him. Finally, he shook his head slightly.
In response, she nodded once, and took another step toward him. “He needed you, just like Dougal needed you. Just like your family needed you.” Amber-brown eyes went wide, and she felt a thrill of confidence shoot through her. “Just like the people of Everland need you.”
“The people…?”
“Of Everland. They need your restaurant.” Another step, and she preened a bit inside when she realized that he wasn’t backing away from her. In fact, he pushed away from the counter, straightening. “You take care of people, Gordon. It’s what you do. Your family, your brother, Vincenzo. Us.”
Another shake of his head sent his top-knot wobbling, and she pressed closer, until she stood directly in front of him. He was so much taller and stronger…but she didn’t feel weak beside him. He made her feel…cared for. “It’s what you do. You take care of people. And without Vincenzo to care for, you’ve been lost these months. That’s why you want to open that restaurant, isn’t it?”
“I want t’ open it because Everland deserves it. I want t’ share my meals wi’ them, an’ let people experience the joys of fine dining, like I have.”
“You want to do it because you care about them, and want to make them happy.”
He lowered his arms, and she felt like he was opening up to her. The expression on his face—slight wonder, slight confusion—told her the same. But he wasn’t denying that she had the truth of it.
Briar took a deep breath. “Do you want to know what I think, Gordon?” She leaned closer, and loved the way his eyelids flickered as he took a deep breath. “I think that, when you marry, your family will be very lucky to have someone like you caring for them. Your wife will be especially lucky.”
I’d consider myself lucky to be married to you, she added in the privacy of her head.
It wasn’t until his eyes flashed amber lightening that Briar realized her mistake, and almost groaned. “Would ye, now? Consider yerself lucky?”
Oh dear, she hadn’t thought that last bit quite so privately, had she?
The intensity of his expression had her second-guessing her own thoughts, and she felt herself growing flustered. She’d just dropped his gaze and shuffled back a step, when he moved. He lifted his right hand and cupped her cheek, just like he had at Zelle’s wedding. He touched her. Again.
And just like in the church hall, and there beside the stream when their fingers had met, Briar felt the zing clear down to her stomach. His hand was so big, but so gentle, his thumb gently brushing over her lower lip in a sensual movement that drove all thoughts completely from Briar’s mind.
Gah.
“If ye were married to me, Briar Rose, I’d take care o’ ye. I’d consider myself lucky, as well, if ye needed me.”
I do! But apparently Briar’s tongue had forgotten to work, with the way his thumb was still brushing gently—beautifully!—across her skin, because all that came out was a little whimper. Heavens! This was sounding an awful lot like a marriage ceremony, wasn’t it? With him promising to cherish her and care for her…
And then! Then Gordon’s fingers tightened against her cheek, he leaned down, and Briar knew—knew—that he was going to kiss her. Her first kiss, and it’d be from Gordon MacKinnon, the man she’d been dreaming of for months! Briar knew she was holding her breath, but it didn’t really matter, did it? Zelle had told her how special kisses could be between two people who had the same kind of sparks that Briar and Gordon had, and this was obviously going to be a special one.
Briar was determined to keep her eyes open, no matter how much she felt like swooning. She wasn’t going to miss a moment of this, with any of her senses. She was finally going to find out how he tasted!
Gordon’s lips curved into a sensual half-smile right before he reached hers…and that’s when the door to the restaurant burst open.
“My son, do you have more of the herb butter Mr. Worth likes so much?”
Briar jumped backward when Mr. Spratt hurried into the kitchen, and she tried to calm her shaking hands by smoothing her apron. Gordon, for his part, straightened slowly and dropped his hand after one last caress. The fact that he hadn’t jerked away as if burned made Briar feel better; like they weren’t doing anything wrong. “Aye, Yacob. Let me fetch the crock fer ye.”
She moved back to her cakes, busying herself with pulling the finished ones from the oven, and making room for the next batch, while she listened to the two men discuss restaurant matters. Then Mr. Spratt was gone again, to chat with his customers once more, and they were alone.
But the moment was past, and Gordon didn’t make any indication that he wanted to touch her again. Instead, he resumed his chopping, and asked her a question about the cakes she was making. Before long they were engaged in a lively discussion—debate, almost—about the merits of measuring versus estimating, and how much sugar the chocolate icing required. After that, she showed him how to make her cinnamon apple cake, and he offered to peel and slice the fruit for her. They were laughing and sharing tips and sharing favorite recipes.
It felt just as wonderful as that almost-kiss had.
Briar had finally found someone who appreciated her for her, who understood what she loved and loved it too. She’d found someone with whom she could really share a passion, and it felt…right. Here, in this kitchen with Gordon, she felt…at home. Like this is where they were meant to be.
It was a lovely feeling.
CHAPTER FIVE
Despite having lived with Vincenzo for a decade, and standing backstage while the man enthralled audiences all over the world, Gordon just didn’t have the same appreciation for music as he did for food. Even now, pacing the long hallway in Vincenzo’s home, he could determine that there were two violins playing, but couldn’t identify the piece.
All that really mattered, he supposed, was that the music let him brood in peace. He’d been brooding since he returned from Spratt’s last night, and after cleaning up the breakfast dishes today he hadn’t been able to sit
still. He didn’t have another job to go to today—now that the wheat harvest was over—so instead, he paced. He’d been pacing for hours, trying to make sense of the jumble of thoughts in his head.
He’d almost kissed her yesterday. There, in Spratt’s cramped kitchen, with her holding her breath so deliciously in front of him, he’d almost kissed Briar Rose Jorgenson. A part of him was groaning at his own stupidity; she was destined for some wealthy farmer, not him. But a larger—and for most of the night, much stiffer—part of him was groaning for an entirely different reason. He’d been this close to kissing her, to finding out if she really tasted of apples and cinnamon like he’d imagined for months! And then, thanks to Yacob’s interference, he’d lost his chance. He should be relieved, but God forgive him, he ached.
For months, he’d worked beside her in that kitchen, but last night had been special. Last night, they’d laughed and teased and helped one another. And he’d told her things that he’d only ever confessed to Vincenzo, his closest friend.
And she’d…seen him. She’d understood the part of his soul that drove him, the thing that made him happiest. He hadn’t even realized it himself, until she’d been able to put it into words; he took care of people. It’s what made his life worth living, and since Vincenzo had married and didn’t need him any longer, Gordon’s life had been…well, meaningless. Now he knew why, thanks to a deliciously rounded young woman who’d only known him a short while.
I’d consider myself lucky to be married to you.
Maybe she hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but she hadn’t denied the words either when he’d pinned them to her. And he thanked God for that, because he didn’t think he could’ve handled it, had she retracted her murmured confession. None of the sweet verses he’d felt whispered against his skin, none of the cries of ecstasy he’d heard from women around the world…none of them had made his blood freeze and then boil, and made his heart pound the way those words from Briar had.
Gordon groaned, and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the long queue that hung down his back. The pressure relieved the pounding in his head, but he retied the leather thong anyhow. She’d all but said that she wanted to marry him. And he’d been standing there, in that kitchen, bemoaning the fact that they had no future together, thanks to her family’s determination to marry her to a wealthy man.
But that one confession had changed everything. I’d consider myself lucky to be married to you. And Gordon knew that he’d be the luckiest man in Wyoming if she was married to him. For the rest of the night, he’d thought of little else. He imagined what it’d be like, to be able to touch her whenever he wanted, to kiss her without even the obvious invitation he’d seen in her eyes. To be able to work beside her, to surprise her with gentle caresses, to know that he’d found a partner he trusted and respected.
He’d spent the rest of the evening—and most of the night and this morning—trying to come up with a way to make those dreams a reality. And the best part was that he knew she was amenable.
They’d had one particular conversation when he’d tested the waters. She’d just finished letting him lick the spoon she’d used to mix her apple-cinnamon cake, and he’d had a feeling that she would taste remarkably similar. So he’d smiled charmingly and asked, “So why the name ‘Briar’? Ye’re not sharp in the least bit.”
She’d blushed then. “No, I’m rather round, aren’t I?”
“Ye’re perfect. It’s just an odd choice o’ a name.”
“I was named for Nana Rose, remember.”
“An’ I guess she’s sharp enough?” He’d never had a conversation with the woman, but had plenty of opinions on the way she treated Briar.
But Briar’s voice had been softer, more subdued when she’d admitted, “Yes. She’s planning something.”
“Something?”
“She’s been dropping more hints than usual about me marrying. I don’t know what she’s up to, but it’s making me nervous.” Briar had hesitated then, obviously debating saying something further, but at the last moment she’d snapped her mouth closed.
Gordon saw his opportunity. “So she thinks she’s in charge, eh? Maybe I shouldn’t make plans to speak to yer father—I’ll just go talk t’ her first?”
He’d been rewarded when he saw the flush that crept up her cheeks—Good God, she was delectable when she did that—and her eyes widen. When she’d looked up at him then, her lips parted and her breath coming a little too quickly, it was all Gordon could do not to cross the kitchen and crush her to him. He’d seen the question in her eyes, so he’d just smiled and nodded, and the most incredible look of wonder swept across her face then.
Aye, she wouldn’t mind if he asked her Pa’s permission to court her. That’s what Gordon took away from that little exchange.
But what had kept him up all night—besides the memory of those lush, parted lips and her apple-cinnamon scent—and had him pacing this morning was the knowledge that he still wasn’t any closer to gaining her family’s permission than he’d been last week, or last month. He could court Briar, or he could try to buy a restaurant. Both needed money, and he was going to have to choose between them.
“For God’s sake, Gordy, get in here!”
How long had it been since the music had stopped? Gordon must’ve really been distracted, to not have noticed. But ten years of taking care of Vincenzo meant that he recognized his friend’s tone—exasperated, and a little irritated, but not in any great need. Still, he was glad to have something to worry about besides his nonexistent future with Briar.
He pushed open the door to Vincenzo’s music room to see the man sitting in his favorite chair, his violin and bow held in the same hand and propped up on one knee. His step-son, eleven-year-old Eddie, was on his knees in the corner, carefully putting his own instrument away in its case.
In the months since he’d married Arabella, Vincenzo had taken to leaving his red silk blindfold off around the house, allowing them all to see the hideous scars where his eyes had once been. At first it’d taken Gordon by surprise, but he’d slowly realized that it was his friend’s way of showing that he trusted those he lived with. It had taken Arabella opening his heart to make such a thing possible, and even though Gordon now felt a little lost since she’d moved in, he’d always be grateful to her for the way she’d changed his friend’s heart.
But despite Vincenzo’s imperious demand, Gordon couldn’t see anything amiss in the room. Had the furniture been moved slightly, so that his blind friend couldn’t get around? Had Eddie pulled some mischief? “Aye, Vincenzo? Ye needed me?”
“No, I wanted you, you daft fool.”
“Wanted me fer what?”
“To stop clumping up and down the corridors, of course!” Gordon winced at his friend’s teasing tone, remembering how good the other man’s hearing was. “Eddie and I stopped our lesson early for the day, because your boots’ beats weren’t constant enough to play to.”
“Sorry.” Gordon sighed, and scrubbed his hands over his face. He hadn’t intended to disrupt everyone’s lives as well as his own.
But Vincenzo just cocked his head, as if listening. “Now, that doesn’t sound like a man who can take teasing very well. Here, Eddie.” He held up his instrument, and the boy came to take it and put it away. “Now, you foolish Scot, tell me why you’re moping around like your dog died.” He pursed his lips theatrically, as if he had a sudden thought. “Wait, your dog didn’t die, did it?”
“I don’t have a dog, m’lord.” The old address came easily, with just a hint of a smile.
“Oh, thank God. Pour us something to drink, and sit down.”
“Aye, m’lord.” Gordon’s elaborate bow was lost on Vincenzo, who couldn’t see it, but his friend snorted with laughter anyhow. Eddie caught Gordon’s eye and gave him a huge smile. The band around Gordon’s chest loosened. He’d been a bit at odds since Vincenzo had married, but he loved his friend’s new family more than he’d expected to.
By the time
he’d poured them both a small glass of brandy, remembering a time when Vincenzo’d had more than enough, and returned to sit across from his friend, Eddie had finished packing away both instruments.
“Done, Father! Can I go see if Tom and Jack can go fishing?” Despite the destruction to Vincenzo’s face, his expression always took on a look of pride when the boy called him Father. Gordon’s stomach tightened momentarily, wondering if he’d ever have the chance to experience that.
“Have you finished your daily chores for Mister King?”
The boy rolled his eyes, and Gordon hid his smile in a sip of brandy. “Not on Friday, Father. Today was school, and I’ve finished my lessons. Can I go? Please?”
“Do you promise to return with enough fish to feed either myself and your mother, or the entire orphanage where Tom and Jack live?”
Eddie snickered. “I don’t know, Father, you do eat a lot.”
“Good point.” Vincenzo nodded solemnly. “You’d better just focus on catching enough for the orphanage instead. Sheriff and Mrs. Cutter would appreciate it, I’m sure.”
The elaborate bow Eddie gave rivaled Gordon’s, and Vincenzo must’ve realized it, because he snorted with laughter and gestured toward the door. “Get out of here, you scamp, and let me pester your Uncle Gordy in peace.”
Once the door closed behind the boy, Gordon shifted forward slightly. “Uncle Gordy?”
“Well, it sounds better than That Strange Scottish Idiot Who Lives With Us And Sometimes Tries to Take Mother’s Jobs Away From Her, doesn’t it?”
“Is that what I’m doin’, then?” Gordon tried, and failed, to mask the bitterness in his voice.
Vincenzo held himself absolutely still, not even breathing, and Gordon knew him well enough to know that his blind friend was listening for the mood in the room. He felt just peevish enough to not give his blind friend any help at all.
After a long moment, Vincenzo finally said, “You know I love Arabella with all of my soul, right?”
Gordon let out the breath he’d been holding, a little ashamed of how childish he’d been acting. “Aye, I know it. Ye’re a lucky man.” Vincenzo was indeed lucky.