“You’re already acquainted with him, and watching you two interact is like watching a mule slog through mud. You shouldn’t have to work so hard just to enjoy someone’s company.”
I clenched my jaw, staring daggers at him for several seconds before finding my voice. “How can you possibly claim to know how relationships of my class work?” I looked him up and down, noting his fine clothing and recently polished shoes. “All you know is fanciness and manners. You know ladies who can afford to act helpless—to be helpless. You think I shouldn’t have to work for a relationship, but guess what? I have to work for everything.”
His face was like stone, only his eyes moving as they made a deep study of my own face. Then after several tense seconds, he stated quietly, “I know what it means to work, Kinley.”
“Do you?” The words were bitter on my tongue.
“Yes,” he bit out, and I fell back a step. I realized that I was seeing Rylan angry for the first time. “I know what it is to work.”
I swallowed, my breathing suddenly more difficult with the knowledge that I had provoked him to such ire.
After a moment, his face softened. “But I also know what it’s like to be around someone who makes me feel more like myself than ever before, who gives me confidence and humbles me at the same time. I know what it’s like to have ease in a relationship. And I know that it’s not something only available to the upper class.”
I wasn’t ready to listen to more relationship advice from him, especially not when it made me jealous of some unknown person who he clearly admired. “You don’t know everything, Mr. Baylor.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know you. And that”—he jabbed a finger in the direction Zander had gone—“is not the man for you.”
He stepped away as if to desert me right then.
My temper flared. How dare he make a proclamation about my life and then try to walk away? “You didn’t come here just to throw a coin in my face,” I said before he could leave. “So why? Did you come to spy on me? To judge my ability to draw a man in and then insult me over it?” There was a shrillness to my voice that drew the attention of those nearest us. I dropped my face, humiliated and wanting to cry.
Rylan stepped close, leaning down so that he could speak close to my ear. “Kinley.” His voice had regained that gentle quality, caressing my name as his fingers caressed my wrist. “I know all about your ability to draw a man in, and it’s not something I would ever insult.” There was almost a reverence to his tone, and it threatened to break me apart.
The warmth of his nearness soaked into me, making me want to lean into him despite how insufferable he had been acting only moments ago.
“Forgive me?” he begged.
I merely nodded.
“I would never spy on you. The reason I came here is because a tenant of my father’s sells here, and he did not have a way to transport his goods. I offered to help.” His hand that had rested at my wrist slid down, his fingers wrapping around mine. “I was hoping that running into you would be a happy consequence, but I . . . I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His frustration seemed directed at himself now.
“You came to help a tenant?” I said to the ground.
“Yes.”
Why did he have to admit something so good when I wanted to be angry with him?
“I am sorry, Kinley. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.” He left, taking his warmth with him and leaving me with a pile of confusion to sort through.
Chapter Eight
THE DAY AFTER market day was my morning off. Of course, the only person who knew that was me, but that was beside the point. I pulled out the book that Ella had given me the day before, wrapped it in my shawl, and ran out to the orchard with it.
It was overcast, but I didn’t care. Some people required sunshine to be happy with the weather, but I was just as content to sit in the dim light of a cloudy day as to sit in the warm sunlight. Or at least as content as I could be when Rylan had left me so utterly confused and hurt.
I chose to sit under a tree fairly close to the road and therefore farther from the eyes of my family. Not that they would have begrudged me a few hours of quiet, but it felt more special when it was stolen, and today I truly needed a distraction. Harvesting would have given me too much space to dwell on Rylan’s words and actions. But a good story would do well to take up all that horrid space and force my thoughts away from him.
I opened my book, which had the simple title of Dreaming, and turned to the first page. I was caught up in the story of a young orphan preparing to run away from a dangerous taskmaster when I heard a whistle coming from the road.
I closed my book and looked to see if perhaps it was Mr. Tanner or one of the Widby brothers who lived a little south of us. I got up and walked closer before I recognized Jayden Hamlin. I tried to step back out of sight, not particularly interested in speaking with Jayden, but he saw me and stopped his whistling to call out, “Morning, Miss Kinley.”
“Morning, Jayden.” At least he was alone. I didn’t like Jayden regardless, but he was even worse around his friends. “What brings you out this way?”
He sauntered closer, and I resisted the urge to back away. He gestured down the road. “The Widbys hired me on to help bring in their crop.”
“That’s good of you to help out.” I hugged my book to my chest, his proximity making me nervous.
He grinned and stepped even closer, leaning against the tree beside me. “Not much I wouldn’t do for a few coins.” I knew that, but false flattery usually served me well when dealing with Jayden.
“I’ll let you be on your way, then.” I had no wish to prolong our conversation.
“What’s that you got there?” he asked, snatching my book out of my arms.
I grabbed for it, but he held it out of reach. “Don’t be a lout. Give it back.”
He looked it over as if it were the dumbest thing he’d ever seen. “What are you carrying a book around for? It’s not as if you can read it.”
“Please give that back. It was a gift.” I held my hand out, hoping he’d be reasonable. Jayden was a relentless tease, and sometimes mean-spirited, but he usually backed down if I refused to be riled.
He looked at the book again. “Who’s giving you something this nice? You looking to move up in the world like your brother?”
“Stop being vulgar and hand over my property.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Here you go.” He held it out toward me, and then being the reprobate he was, jerked it away and tossed it onto the road behind him.
I sucked down my anger and walked past him to pick it up, but he grabbed my arm. “Don’t get so fired—”
He wasn’t able to finish the sentence because I turned on him and punched him in the jaw. He let go of me to grab onto his face and I ran into the trees of my orchard, my safe place, amid the sounds of his cursing. The things he had to say about me were not nice, but I kept running until I was well away from him. I stopped to catch my breath behind a tree.
Horrible little wretch. Cocky, no good, ill-mannered cad. He couldn’t continue on his way like any other half-decent human being. No, he had to steal my book (and not even my book, but a book lent to me by Ella), insult my morality, and grab my arm.
I would have to thank Gavin for teaching me how to punch correctly. I’d only ever used it on Fynn before (to my mother’s dismay), but I was certainly glad of the skill at this moment. I looked down at my knuckles and flexed my fingers. They’d probably bruise a bit, but they were fine.
Several more minutes passed before I moved carefully back toward the road to get my book. The confrontation with Jayden had left me shaky and nervous. I took my time checking and rechecking around me to be sure that he was gone. Reaching the edge of the orchard, I waited even longer, listening before I moved out in search of my book. When I saw it, I started crying. It was a stupid thing to cry over, I knew that, but I couldn’t help it. Several pages had be
en torn out. It looked as if he’d stomped on the cover and on the inside pages several times with his dirty boots. The binding was broken, and the cover was no longer attached to the back.
I crouched there in the road, sobbing over the torn pieces of a book I hadn’t even had the chance to read, and tried to brush off the dirt and collect the torn pages. I muttered terrible things about Jayden as I scrubbed the cover with my apron.
I had stopped paying attention to my surroundings, so when someone touched my shoulder, my reaction was a reflex. I did the same thing I’d done the first time Jayden grabbed me. I burst to my feet, spun around, and swung my fist, hoping to hit his face again.
Only Jayden was quite a bit shorter than Rylan, so I ended up punching Rylan in the chest.
He jumped back, and I stood there in shock while he rubbed his chest and looked at me like he didn’t recognize me.
“I’m so sorry,” I finally said as I grabbed for my apron and scrubbed at my face, knowing I was a mess.
“What happened to you?” he managed to ask as he caught his breath. “What happened to your book?”
I started crying again. I didn’t want to tell him about Jayden, the mongrel. So I crossed my arms and stood there looking pathetic. “What are you doing here?”
He gave a sardonic smile. “Just out for a country ride.”
I sobbed even harder at his ridiculousness. “You are not!”
His eyes were full of compassion and understanding and all sorts of things that made me want to keep crying. “You’re right, I’m not. I came to see you, to apologize.”
I bent to pick up my book again, not knowing what to say, not knowing why he kept coming to see me.
He knelt beside me. “Here, let me help.”
I let him gather the book as I wiped my face again and tried to breathe my crying away.
With his hands full, he gestured toward his horse. “Can I give you a ride back to your house or something?”
“I told you, my mother would have a fit if you showed up unannounced. Just . . . just come sit with me.” I knew I wouldn’t get rid of him, and despite the incident yesterday, my heart wanted him to stay, so I headed into the orchard with my arms crossed and my shoulders hunched. He followed behind, clicking his tongue at his horse so it would follow.
I sat under a random tree, and he sank down beside me, putting the book down carefully, along with its bits and pieces.
I pulled it toward me and started turning the pages one by one so that I could get the dirt off.
“Would you like to tell me who ruined this lovely volume?” he asked as he smoothed a page over his leg.
“Just a . . . stupid boy. I made him mad and he retaliated like a toddler.”
“How old was this boy?”
“Fynn’s age, so twenty or twenty-one.”
“So he was a man acting like a child.”
I nodded.
“Why was he mad?”
“Because I punched him in the face.” I continued dusting off pages, lamenting over the rips and wrinkles.
Rylan helped as much as he could, working in silence until asking, “Why did you punch me? Did you think I was him?”
I let out a sigh. “Yes. I thought he had come back, and he let go of me the first time I punched him, so I figured it would work again.”
“He grabbed you?”
“Yes.” I glanced up at him and saw that he was inferring more from that statement than there was. “Only my arm,” I clarified. “I wasn’t in the mood to find out why he was grabbing my arm, so I punched him in the jaw, and he let go.”
He looked impressed. “I’ve not encountered many girls who can throw a punch like that.”
I laughed a little, though it sounded rather pitiful. “How many girls have you given a reason to punch you?”
“None, thankfully, which I suppose is why I’ve never run into the skill before.”
There was also the fact that ladies wouldn’t be caught dead doing something so unladylike. “It’s not something I go around boasting of, but Gavin taught me years ago.”
“I think I would like Gavin.”
I smiled. “I’m sure you would.”
“Judging from this book, I would guess you’ve become quite a reader.”
I nodded.
“What’s been your favorite book?”
I thought on that for a moment. “I don’t think I have favorites. Though there have certainly been books that I disliked.”
“Which ones?”
“The one on Cassia that I told you about was one. There was also a time when I was quite captivated by the history of the Ortons, but then I read one that made them seem like the most atrocious, bloodthirsty people you’ve ever encountered. I still do not know if that was a more accurate account because it did not romanticize them or if the author was overly critical.”
“The Ortons did have their moments.” He sounded distracted as he ever so carefully tried to scrape a bit of grime off one of the pages. “So you like mostly histories?”
“I’m not picky. Though I do love to read about the sea. I’ve never had a chance to see the ocean, and I like to imagine what it would be like to see such vast amounts of water. Not that I’ve read very many. I don’t exactly have a library full of options.”
“I’m happy to share my library.”
I smiled at the offer. “That’s very kind, but Ella is wonderful about letting me borrow her books.”
He raised guilty eyes to look at me. “I was hoping it might be a way for me to make up for my horrid behavior yesterday.”
I shook my head. Now that we were together—and he was acting like Rylan again—I didn’t want to be mad at him or dwell on yesterday’s argument. “You don’t need to make up for it.”
“Yes, I do.”
I leaned forward impulsively and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re forgiven,” I said, sitting back. “Please, let’s leave it be.”
He blinked, likely shocked that I would do something so forward as kissing him on the cheek, but he shook it off when I quirked an eyebrow at him. He turned back to the marred pages before him. “So what is this book about?” he asked.
I shrugged, saddened by the reminder of the book’s fate. “I had only read a few pages before Jayden came along. It seems like an adventure story, though.” I let out a sigh. “It’s not even mine, which vexes me even more. Ella entrusted me with it, and it ended up destroyed. It may be beyond repair.”
“My mother and I like to collect books. Many of them are old, and we’ve learned how to take care of them; sometimes we’re even able to repair them. Would it be all right if I took this home with me and tried to restore it?”
I pursed my lips, fighting the burning emotion in my throat caused by his kindness, and nodded.
He gathered up the book and all its pages and placed them carefully in his saddlebags, then returned to sit with me. “It will take several days, perhaps a week or more to repair it.”
“Thank you,” I said, though it felt inadequate.
He reached over and set his hand on mine, where it rested on my knee. “Kinley, I would like to come see you tomorrow. Will you let me?”
It was the first time I hadn’t wanted to shoo him away or ask him why he wanted to come. Instead, I was simply happy to be able to look forward to his company. “I would let you, but Fynn has agreed to help me for the next two days.”
“And in three days’ time?”
“He’ll have other duties to attend to,” I said with a sardonic smile.
“I look forward to helping with the harvest.” He stood and gave me a regal bow. “I had better return. My father has some matters of business he’d like me to attend to.”
I moved to get up and he extended his hands. I took both of them, letting him pull me to my feet, and was propelled farther forward than I anticipated. My nose nearly collided with his chest.
“Sorry,” he said in a voice that was a little husky. “Don’t know my own strength.”
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I laughed, though it sounded false. I swallowed and stepped back, his fingers skimming over mine as I pulled them away. “Good luck with your business matters. And thank you for your help.”
“Always a pleasure, Kinley.” He swung up into his saddle and nudged Apollo into a walk through the trees, ducking whenever a branch was too low.
I smiled, watching him go, then turned back to the house. As I ambled through the yard, Papa called to me from his woodshop.
I leaned in the doorframe, watching him work with the sunlight cutting from the window to the floor, giving the sawdust a stage to dance on. He looked up to smile at me, but his face fell, and he stopped working. “You been crying, Bug?”
I looked down, but there was no point denying it. “Yes, but I’m fine now.”
“Come in here and tell me what’s got you down.”
My anger rekindled as I sat next to him. “Jayden Hamlin is a worthless human being.”
He glowered. “What did that boy do this time?”
“Merely acted like the mean-spirited lout that he is.”
“What exactly did he do?”
“Insulted me, damaged Ella’s book, and grabbed my arm.”
He looked me over, no doubt checking for signs that I was hurt. “I hope you gave him what he deserved.”
“I punched him in the face.”
“That’s my girl.” He gave a nod. “He bother you any more after that?”
“I didn’t stay to find out.”
He shook his head and scratched the back of his hair. “I’m glad Fynn stopped hanging around that boy years ago.”
“Me, too.”
He went back to carving, but his brow furrowed and he stopped. “Why’s he out this way anyway?”
“He’s helping the Widbys bring their harvest in.”
“You want Fynn working with you for the next week?”
I nodded. “He’s already planning to help for several days.”
“But that’s only for a couple of hours.”
“I was right by the road when Jayden saw me. I’ll stay well away from it until I know their harvest is in.”
Keeping Kinley Page 9