“We do?” Feeling adrift in the conversation, her heart beating fast at the unexpected mild attack, she waited to hear what he would say.
“The night I brought you here, when you were injured, you spoke out when we were tending you.”
She laughed nervously. “I actually looked into your eyes and called you a wolf?” she asked, highly doubting it.
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“Oh.” She looked back at the path, unable to speak beyond that one syllable.
“The question being,” he went on with calm persistence, “do you still regard me as one?”
Carefully she framed her answer. “If I did, I don’t suppose I would be taking these strolls with you in the dark of the night.”
He smiled. “No, I don’t suppose so. Now tell me, I am most curious. Why do you prefer nighttime strolls to those taken in daylight?”
“With the girls tucked safely in their beds, I can take that sliver of time for myself. The evening is peaceful. With the lantern you carry, I feel safe.” It was more than the bobbing glow of golden light that made her feel protected; it was the company kept, but she wasn’t yet ready to admit her delight in having him near.
“Are you not content with your position as governess?”
“Oh, yes! I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. But the task is endless and I’m still learning my role.” They approached a stone bench near the pond. Myrna hesitated. “I’d like to rest.”
“Of course.”
She sat down, leaning a little sideways with one hand on the bench to look out over the still, black water. He hung the lantern from a branch above and took a seat beside her.
“It’s lovely here,” she breathed in appreciation.
“Then you do believe you could find happiness at Eagle’s Landing?”
At his odd question, she glanced at him. He didn’t look at her but stared straight ahead at the manor.
“For Sisi’s sake, I’ll try.” Her words came as quietly as his. A gradual shift seemed to affect the atmosphere, bringing her senses into heightened awareness. “I’ve come to realize it’s what’s best for her.”
“But not for you?”
She didn’t know how to answer, so kept silent.
“It is highly commendable, the care you exhibit toward your sister.” He looked at her then. “And Rebecca enjoys having you as her governess. Other than when it comes to her studies, of course.”
Myrna felt grateful for his levity and change of subject. “She doesn’t like arithmetic.”
“I didn’t, either, when I was her age. Now it’s translations that have become the bane of my existence.” At her curious stare, he explained, “The estate ledgers. My brother failed to write with a steady hand.”
Recalling her own experience, she nodded. “I sympathize. My father— Oh!”
Feeling the tickle of something crawl along her jaw, she whisked her fingers there.
“Are you all right?”
She brushed her fingertips over her neck at the ghost traces and the certainty she had not rid herself of the mysterious, vile creature.
“A bug.” She felt suddenly as if they were crawling all over her and jumped to stand. “I hope it’s not a spider!” She detested the eight-legged beasts.
“Calm yourself. It was likely a gnat or mosquito.”
She felt the tickle again, near her ear this time, and batted her fingers in that area.
He rose and took hold of her head at the back. His other hand tilted her face to the lantern light while he inspected her features. Shivers of a different sort whispered across her skin at the touch of his warm fingertips brushing the side of her neck and barely stroking her scalp. His last movements came more slowly as he trailed the contour of her jaw.
“Whatever was there has gone.”
At the low timbre of his voice, she found it difficult to look into his eyes. In the next moment, she found it impossible not to. Lifting her gaze to his, she noted the dark intensity she had glimpsed before, again making her breathless as they stared at one another for endless moments. His thumb ghosted across her parted lips. She felt fixed, unable to move, barely able to breathe as he tilted her chin higher. Her eyes fell shut as his mouth touched hers.
She exhaled her breath in a rush but did not retreat. Neither did she push him away.
His kiss tasted of cloves and cinnamon, engendering feelings of warmth and protection...and more. Frozen by his unexpected affection, at the same time she felt as if she stood close to a gentle hearth blaze. A second brush of his lips against hers seemed to free her to move, and she returned his kiss, lifting her hands to press against his waistcoat, the cloth rough beneath the pads of her fingertips, the sensation of his heartbeats, as rapid as hers, making them tingle.
He softly broke the kiss, pulling away to look into her eyes. The expression in their gray depths was as stunned as she felt.
“That’s the second time you’ve done that,” she breathed.
“This time I’ll not apologize.”
It would be foolish, since by her keen response she had revealed her pleasure.
“But...why...?” Her question remained unfinished, her equilibrium shaky.
“I’ve come to care for you, Myrna.”
The rush of warmth his husky words provoked led to another at the familiar use of her name, the first time he had used it. Old fears resurfaced. She took a step back.
“What is it you want from me?”
At her nervous words, he studied her face. His eyes were clear in their sincerity—no dark, hidden motive lurking beneath. He gave her a nonthreatening smile, rare to see and boyish in its charm. She found herself wishing to initiate more like it.
“I don’t want anything. I suggest we take each day in stride, to see where this leads us.”
“How can it lead anywhere?” she whispered. “Our lives are so very different—”
Her words abruptly halted in surprise at the brief touch of his two fingers against her lips.
“Don’t. Those things don’t matter to me, but perhaps it’s too soon to have this conversation. At this time, I wish only for your continued companionship. I’ve enjoyed our nighttime strolls.”
At the question in his eyes, Myrna nodded, having enjoyed them as well but embarrassed that she’d spoken so freely.
He reached up to collect the lantern then held out his arm. “We should return to the manor.”
She slipped her hand around his elbow, relieved to find mutual harmony, which they had been working toward with their cease-fire of eleven days. Yet the question remained. Despite many roadblocks—their different stations in life, her family scandal, what she’d once overheard about him, their difficulty to trust each other—could there ever be more for them?
The odds seemed stacked against their favor, and Myrna knew she was foolish to hope. But in the warmth of his presence it was easy to cling to the frailty of dreams.
Chapter 10
“Eek! You stay there, Uncle Dalton. Don’t come inside,” Rebecca warned, closing the door behind her and dramatically spreading her arms to bar his entrance into the closed dining room.
After concluding his work early he had walked to the dining room that Rebecca just exited. A room evidently off-limits. He withheld a chuckle, wondering what surprise the girls and his mother had in store. He couldn’t resist a bit of teasing.
“My dear niece, it’s time for the meal and I wish to be prompt. What kind of message would I send if I taught you never to be tardy and then didn’t do likewise?”
“You can be late for one day,” she argued.
“I would rather not tempt the habit to start.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw set stubbornly.
He rubbed his chin with his forefinger
and thumb and pretended to contemplate the matter. “Would a kiss on thy hand be adequate to pay the toll?”
She giggled then grew stern again. “I’m the toll master and I say you may not enter.”
The door opened behind her.
She let out another shriek, grabbing Myrna’s arm to pull her through and hastily closing the door. Myrna’s surprise to be treated thus evaporated on catching sight of Dalton.
“I told him he can’t go inside,” Rebecca said, “but he’s being difficult.”
“Difficult? Alas, no. I’m willing to barter, sweet maiden. What might I give in return for crossing the forbidden threshold?”
Myrna’s lips twitched. A trace of mischief gleamed in his niece’s eyes.
“I think, to cross, you must kiss the hand...of the governess!”
At Rebecca’s boisterous command, a becoming flush glowed on Myrna’s cheeks.
A month ago, even a week, Dalton would never have dared. Ten days had changed much between them since his second impromptu kiss, and their friendship had strengthened. With that in mind, he caught Myrna’s eye, giving her a mischievous smirk.
“Since the toll mistress decrees it, I must obey,” he said by way of explanation.
“The girl has become a wretched slave to a stranger’s charm.” Myrna seemed equal parts amused and somber, her words coming wryly. “A foolish thing, if she will recall the moral of a recent wolf’s tale.”
Rebecca giggled. “Uncle Dalton’s no stranger! And he’s not a wolf, either.”
“The girl speaks correctly,” he said in blithe defense.
“But not always wisely. Very well. We wouldn’t wish to upset the toll mistress.”
Curbing a chuckle, he took her extended hand in his and bent over it, barely brushing the pale, unblemished skin with a kiss and eliciting a louder giggle from his niece.
“I think the traveler has paid his due,” Myrna said with a smile, their eyes meeting as he lifted his gaze.
Rebecca looked at her. “But Nana said—”
“It’s all right,” Myrna reassured, softly pulling back her hand that Dalton released with reluctance.
Before he could finally gain entrance, Miss Browning hurried their way.
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, there’s a visitor to see you.”
“We were just going in to dinner.”
“I told him, but he’s insistent on seeing you. Said it was important he speak with the master who runs the place.”
“It’s likely one of those in the books whose name is still a mystery.”
At Myrna’s evident confusion, he smiled dryly. “I’ll explain later. I had best go see what he wants. Go ahead and start without me.”
“But we can’t, Uncle Dalton! Not today—”
“I’ll tell your mother.” Myrna took hold of Rebecca’s arm, steering her into the dining room.
With an irritated sigh to have his meal disturbed, Dalton headed toward the foyer.
* * *
“Do you think he’ll like it?” Rebecca asked nervously.
“Yes, I think he will.” Myrna double-checked the table to make sure nothing had been missed.
“He’s coming!” Sisi announced from her self-appointed post by the door, and Rebecca hurried to the opposite side to wait.
No more than five minutes had passed since Dalton was detained, and the steam rising from the dishes proved the meal was still hot. After sharing a smile with Mrs. Freed who sat at the foot of the table, Myrna returned her attention to the door.
It opened and the girls threw handfuls of the confetti they had shredded toward Dalton, showering him with snippets of white.
“Happy birthday!” they cried.
A stranger walked in behind him, also getting bombarded by the minuscule paper shower. A tall, slender man approximately the same age as Dalton, the visitor didn’t look at all happy to receive the welcome. Briskly he brushed the shredded bits from his curly brown hair and one that clung to his thick mustache.
The celebratory atmosphere turned quizzical as almost everyone in the room looked at the newcomer. By the expression on Dalton’s face as he stared only at Myrna, she felt the first prickling of dread.
“I would like to speak with you a moment in the parlor,” he said quietly.
Ignoring Dalton’s words, the stranger walked around him and approached. “You are Myrna? Yes? That bright hair gives you away. I’m your cousin, Jeremy.”
Sisi ran to Myrna and clutched her skirts, eyeing the newcomer in apprehension.
“I would prefer that we speak in the parlor.” Dalton’s firm words came from the doorway, and Myrna snapped out of her haze of shock.
“Yes, all right.” She smoothed her hand down Sisi’s head. “You stay here with Rebecca and Mrs. Freed and be a good girl.”
She smiled at her sister and barely offered a glance toward Jeremy as she joined Dalton. The three moved to the smaller room.
“If you’d give me a moment with my cousin,” Jeremy said to Dalton.
“No,” Myrna said. “I wish him to stay.”
Jeremy looked at her as if affronted, but she didn’t know or trust him so didn’t retract her statement. Grumbling a little, he walked toward her, pulling an envelope from his waistcoat. She looked at the missive as if it might grow fangs and bite.
“These are your father’s instructions to me, a letter he sent two years ago.”
Still, she refused to take it, lifting her cautious gaze to his dark one. “I sent a post after the accident, informing you of my change in plans. Did you not receive it?”
His brown eyes were somber. “It’s the reason I came. Take it, Myrna.”
She accepted the missive but didn’t open it.
He sighed. “Your father wrote me that should he die and you contact me for help, it was his wish that I take care of you and your sister. To marry you—it’s in the letter,” he added when she gasped in shocked distress at the last of what he said.
Inadvertently, her eyes went to Dalton. He stared back, his expression grim but not surprised, and she wondered if Jeremy had already told him.
“But you’re family,” she whispered. “I couldn’t possibly...”
“Nothing wrong with cousins marrying. The gentry does it all the time.” Jeremy shook his head. “Still, your father never told you the details of our relationship? My father and your father were brothers, but I was adopted. We’re not blood kin.”
The blood pounded in Myrna’s head. “But—I can’t leave. I’m the governess.”
“You would deny your father’s wishes? I’m sure they can find another nanny.” He stared at her as if he expected her to run upstairs, pack her bag and leave with him straightaway.
She felt uncertain of the right thing to do. To go with this cousin she had never known and entrust their lives to him. Or to stay with the family who welcomed her, where she and Sisi had found peace and a measure of happiness...
“I need time to think about it,” she said weakly.
“I don’t understand,” he argued, stepping closer as if to grab her. “I thought you were coming on the train to see me.”
“The lady said she needs time.” Dalton’s cool words sliced through the chill air.
Jeremy glanced his way, took in his tall form, leaner but more muscular than her cousin’s, then looked back at Myrna. “An hour, then?”
“I couldn’t possibly make such a decision tonight! I have a position here. Much has changed. Sisi is happy.”
“Are you telling me my trip was for nothing?”
She wrung her hands in her skirts. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you. This is all so sudden.”
“You’re welcome to stay as our guest, if Miss McBride desires your presence,” Dalton said genially, tho
ugh the words seemed torn from him as stilted as they came.
“Yes, that would be lovely,” she said in haste. “Thank you, Mr. Freed.”
“I left my shop in my apprentice’s care,” Jeremy hedged. “I can’t be absent for long.”
“Then you should return. Once I make my decision, if it is to—to abide by the letter, Sisi and I will travel to your home then.”
At her hurried and awkward suggestion, he looked back and forth between Myrna and Dalton, as if in sudden realization. “I can take a short time away.”
“I’ll have my driver collect your things in town.”
“I only have the one satchel I left by the door.”
“Very well. I’ll have a maid take it to your room.”
“Maids in the corridors. Drivers at your beck and call. Dear cousin, are you sure you’ve not had your head turned by such luxuries and that is why you won’t give me an immediate answer?”
Myrna’s face heated at his overtly rude statement and familiar form of address.
“Miss McBride said she needs time,” Dalton stressed again. “We should respect her wishes.” His eyes went to Myrna. “For now, we should return to the dining hall. They’ll wonder what’s keeping us.”
“Sounds good,” Jeremy said. “I’m starved.”
Myrna shared a somber look with Dalton as the three left the parlor. This certainly wasn’t how she had planned his birthday celebration.
“Are you all right?” he asked, low enough for her ears only.
She looked at him then away, loath to say yes and lie and just as averse to say no and burden him with her problems.
Myrna ate little, appalled by Jeremy’s table manners, if he was ever taught such niceties. Sitting directly across from him, she couldn’t help notice. He talked with his mouth full, chewed with his mouth open, reached for platters and took exorbitant servings and huge bites. The girls gawked at him. They glanced her way, and Myrna shook her head a little in rebuke not to stare. For all that, the man was engaging, now that the awkward introductions were behind them, and he answered and asked questions with ease, speaking of his clockmaker’s shop with enthusiasm.
The man of honor, for which this special meal had been prepared, remained quiet through all four courses of his favorite foods, though Myrna was relieved to see that he did eat. Their eyes met now and again, each incident sending little flutters through her middle, especially during those moments when neither looked away for a time.
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