Now if Justin could only figure out how to procure the needed items, all would be well.
* * *
"Look at all these fish I caught!" Stephen stomped into Hayley's garden, halting in front of her, a lopsided grin on his face. "Just look at them! Have you ever seen such a fine catch?"
Hayley stood, wiped her hands on her skirt and examined the group of puny fish hanging from a string in Stephen's hand. "Very impressive," she agreed, struggling to keep a straight face. "You're obviously an expert fisherman."
Stephen's eyes narrowed suspiciously, clearly unsure if she was laughing at him or not. "You're not making fun of me, are you?" His voice resembled a threatening growl.
Her eyes widened in total innocence. "I? Make fun of you? A man who is obviously the finest fisherman to ever grace the shores of England? Perish the thought."
"I'll have you know that I'm quite proud of myself." He leaned close to Hayley, and she stifled a giggle. He stunk like dead fish. "This was my very first fishing expedition."
"He fell in the water two times," chimed in Andrew, as he and Nathan made their way into the garden.
Her gaze dropped to his ribs. "Did you hurt yourself?"
"A few twinges, nothing more. And I did not fall in. These hooligans pushed me," Stephen informed Hayley, pointing an accusing finger at the two laughing boys. "You really need to teach these boys some manners," he added in an undertone, winking broadly.
"You've never been fishing before?" Hayley asked in surprise.
"Never. I'm a tutor, not a fisherman. The opportunity never presented itself. Until now. And I did a fine job of it, if I may say so myself." He held his string aloft and bestowed an admiring glance on his paltry catch.
Hayley looked at the three of them and shook her head. She was not sure exactly what had transpired on their fishing expedition, but it was evident that they'd all enjoyed themselves. And Stephen's smile was the broadest of all.
"Come on, Mr. Barrettson," Nathan urged, tugging on Stephen's arm. "Let's give our catch to Pierre so he can get busy cooking dinner."
"I have to go now," Stephen informed Hayley with a smug grin. "Pierre is expecting us in the kitchen, you know." He flashed her a big smile and allowed Nathan to pull him along. Hayley gazed after the trio and clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing as they walked away from her.
The seat of Stephen's once fine breeches was split right up the back.
* * *
"Where are you boys off to?" Hayley asked her brothers at breakfast the following morning. "We have lessons to conduct."
Andrew and Nathan sent pleading, longing looks Hayley's way. "Mr. Barrettson offered to give us our lessons today. We're on our way to the meadow. Is that all right?"
Hayley looked at Stephen in surprise. "Outdoor lessons? Is this true?"
Stephen looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. "Yes. I must pay a debt of honor to the boys and I could teach them their lessons at the same time. If you don't mind, that is."
"No. I don't mind at all," Hayley murmured, totally confused. "What debt of honor must you pay?"
"Andrew and I made a wager the evening before last, and I lost."
Hayley's brows shot up. "You made a wager with Andrew? And lost?"
"It simply wasn't my night for wagers, I'm afraid," he said with a slow grin.
Heat flushed Hayley to the roots of her hair as she recalled the outcome of her wager with Stephen. Without further comment, she watched him and her brothers leave the room. She had no idea what to make of Stephen. Ever since their argument at the lake and their subsequent chess match two nights ago, he seemed different. Less reserved. With everyone except her. While he was unfailingly polite to her, he'd somehow erected an invisible barrier between them.
In contrast, he'd taken an interest in Andrew and Nathan's activities, first fishing with them, and now embarking on some unknown adventure together.
She'd sat through dinner the previous evening, filled with nervous anticipation, wondering if she would again find herself alone with Stephen. Her head told her to stay away from him, but her heart just as adamantly implored her to seek him out.
The decision was taken out of her hands when he excused himself shortly after dinner and retired to his room. She spent the evening working in the study, trying hard not to feel disappointed. Or confused. Surely it was better this way.
"Andrew and Nathan appear to have taken quite a shine to Mr. Barrettson," Aunt Olivia remarked, interrupting Hayley's thoughts.
"Yes, they have."
"And Mr. Barrettson seems to like them as well," Pamela added, refilling Hayley's cup.
"Truss me to the port beam and slap me with the sextant!" Winston boomed. "Why wouldn't 'e like the lads? They're fine boys, just like their Pa, God rest his soul. Why if that bloody bum don't like those boys, I'll make 'im walk the plank." He glared at Grimsley. "You fixin' to argue about that, ya skinny runt?"
Grimsley tugged his jacket into place. "Certainly not, although I can't imagine where we'd find a plank to walk."
"You couldn't find a plank if it smacked ya in the head," Winston grumbled.
"I know where there's a plank," Callie chimed in, cradling Miss Josephine in her arms. "There's a nice big plank outside, next to the chicken coop." She turned to Winston. "We saw it the other day, Winston. You tripped on it and fell facedown in the chicken droppings. Don't you remember? That's when you hollered, 'bloody damn piece of wood! Son of a—'"
"Callie!" Hayley interrupted hastily. "I'm certain Winston didn't mean to say such inappropriate words." She fixed him with a meaningful glare. "Did you, Winston?"
Winston's scowl clearly indicated he'd meant every word and then some, but his expression softened when he glanced at Callie. "Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot the wee tyke was about."
Grimsley mumbled something under his breath, and started clearing the table. Hayley huffed out a breath, prayed for strength, and changed the subject.
"What do you suppose they're planning to do today?" she asked. "I hope Andrew and Nathan aren't planning anything too physically taxing. I'm sure Ste— Mr. Barrettson's ribs are still tender, and his shoulder is not yet fully healed."
"Mr. Barrettson appears a most healthy specimen," Pamela said with a teasing grin. "I'm certain he can handle Andrew and Nathan."
"Oh, yes indeed," Aunt Olivia added. "Mr. Barrettson is quite a fine specimen of manhood. So handsome and broad-shouldered. Don't you agree, Hayley dear?"
Hellfires burned in Hayley's cheeks. "Er, yes. He is quite a, er … fine specimen."
"And he's very charming," Aunt Olivia went on, clearly oblivious to Hayley's discomfort.
"I wasn't aware you'd spent so much time with him, Aunt Olivia," Hayley stated in a loud voice.
Her aunt picked up her needlework. "Oh, yes, we had a fine time together yesterday afternoon. While you and the children were visiting the stables, Mr. Barrettson helped me with my chores."
Hayley and Pamela exchanged a puzzled look. "But it was your turn to dust the library," Pamela said.
A broad smile lit Aunt Olivia's face. "Indeed. Mr. Barrettson wields a feather duster quite well, and he can reach much higher than I can. Oh, I admit at first he seemed somewhat reluctant, horrified actually, but the dear boy caught on quickly."
"How did you manage to convince him to dust?" Hayley asked, highly amused.
"Why, I simply handed him the duster and asked for his assistance." Aunt Olivia fixed a pointed look on Hayley. "If you want something, my dear Hayley, you need to make your wishes known. Mr. Barrettson isn't a mind reader, after all."
Hayley stared at her aunt, and wondered if they were still discussing dusting. Before she had a chance to speak, Aunt Olivia returned her attention to her needlework, and Hayley let the subject drop before her cheeks truly caught fire.
Soon thereafter, Pamela and Hayley left the dining room and, with Callie in tow, headed toward the lake. Callie set up her easel, and Hayley and Pamela sat on the grass, enj
oying the warm breeze and the unusual, but welcome, peace and quiet that came from their brothers' absence.
"Are you looking forward to Lorelei Smythe's party?" Pamela asked, picking a long blade of grass and twirling it between her fingers.
Hayley grimaced and looked heavenward. "I'd rather bathe Stinky. That woman makes me feel like a large, gauche, impolite, unwanted interloper every time we meet." She slid a sidelong glance at Pamela. "Of course, I shall endeavor to bear her company for your sake. I would never deny you the pleasure of attending the party, especially since a certain handsome young doctor will be there."
A furious blush stained Pamela's cheeks. "Oh, Hayley, I nearly died when Marshall saw me at the lake the other day looking like a drowned cat. Heaven only knows what he thought."
"He couldn't take his eyes off you," Hayley assured her.
"He couldn't believe how horrid I looked."
"He couldn't believe how beautiful you were, even wet and wearing a ragged quilt."
"Do you really think so?" Pamela asked, her eyes alight with hope.
"His adoration for you is so apparent, Pamela, even Grimsley noticed it—without the aid of his spectacles. Trust me. Marshall Wentbridge is a man besotted." You'll soon be happily wed, leading a normal life—everything I want for you.
Pamela hugged her arms around herself and heaved a blissful sigh. "Oh, Hayley, I hope you're right. He's just the most wonderful man. So kind and handsome. He leaves me…" Her voice trailed off.
"Breathless?" Hayley supplied, knowing the feeling all too well.
"Exactly."
"And your heart speeds up and you can barely think whenever he's near you," Hayley murmured softly, her thoughts drifting away. A series of images of Stephen flashed through her mind—Stephen holding up a string of fish, Stephen laughing, Stephen leaning over her to brush his mouth across hers.
"Yes," Pamela said, jerking Hayley back to the present. "That's exactly how Marshall makes me feel. How did you know?"
Embarrassed by her unguarded words, Hayley stared down at her hands and remained silent.
Pamela reached out to touch Hayley's sleeve. "Is that how Mr. Popplemore made you feel, Hayley?" she asked, her voice quiet with sympathy.
"No," Hayley denied quickly with a frown. "Jeremy never affected my heart rate, nor my ability to think."
"Then who…?" Pamela's eyes grew round and she stared at Hayley. "Does Mr. Barrettson make you feel that way? The way Marshall makes me feel?"
Hayley didn't answer for a moment, afraid to say the words out loud, even to Pamela, but she was unwilling to add to her long list of lies. "Yes. I'm afraid so."
A sunny smile broke over Pamela's face. "Hayley! How wonderful! I'm so happy you found someone to care for. I—"
"I care for him," Hayley interrupted her sister's enthusiastic words. "I didn't say he cared for me."
Pamela grabbed Hayley's hands and squeezed them. "Don't be silly. How could he not care for you? You saved his life. You're beautiful, and loving, and unselfish—"
"Pamela." Hayley's single word cut off her sister. "I appreciate what you're saying, but you must face the facts, as I have had to. Stephen is leaving here very soon. He has a job far away from here, and once he leaves we'll probably never see him again. I know he's grateful to us, but that is all."
"Perhaps he'll change his mind about his job and decide to stay here," Pamela suggested. "Surely he wouldn't leave if he falls in love. He could tutor children right here in Halstead."
"Stephen hasn't given me any indication he intends to change his plans."
"Perhaps he would if he knew you cared for him."
"No!" Hayley practically shouted. "I mean, he must know that I like him—"
"Does he know that you love him?" Pamela asked. "Do you love him?"
Hayley's heart banged against her ribs. "No. And yes. No, he doesn't know, and yes, I do. I … love him." Saying the words out loud filled her with both relief and sadness. "But surely you can see how hopeless this is. I'm not a young woman—"
"You're only six and twenty!"
Hayley smiled at her sister's loyalty. "I'm far past the first bloom of youth, Pamela. And a man like Stephen … well, clearly he could have any woman he wants."
"And if he wants you?" Pamela asked softly.
Hayley shook her head and didn't answer. Even if Stephen should want her, she had far too many responsibilities and secrets to consider sharing her life with anyone.
"I wish I could help you, Hayley. You're always doing for other people, never asking anything for yourself. For the first time, you want something. I pray you get it."
Hayley's insides melted. Dear Pamela. "You help me by being happy, and sharing that happiness with me," she said sincerely. "I've changed my mind. I cannot wait to attend Lorelei's party if for no other reason than to see Marshall Wentbridge's eyes pop out when he sees you in your lovely new gown."
Pamela blushed. "Thank you for buying it for me. It's so lovely."
Hayley leaned over and kissed her sister's pink cheek. "So are you, Pamela. So are you."
"Well, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed that Mr. Barrettson realizes how wonderful you are and decides to remain in Halstead," Pamela said. "Maybe if we both wish hard enough, it will happen."
"What will happen?" Callie asked, joining them. "What are we wishing for? I love to make wishes."
Hayley stroked the child's dark curls. "We're wishing for love. And happiness."
Callie wrapped her chubby little arms around Hayley and hugged her fiercely. "I love you both, and I'm very happy."
Hayley and Pamela laughed. "See there?" Hayley said. "You just made all our wishes come true." She dropped a kiss into Callie's hair. "Shall we pack up your easel, then try to discover what those brothers of ours are up to, and what mischief they've dragged poor Mr. Barrettson into?"
The plan was agreed upon, and they set out to find Andrew, Nathan, and Stephen.
* * *
"We need more rocks over here," Nathan shouted, dropping a large stone atop the rapidly growing wall.
"How many?" Andrew shouted back.
"Three or four."
"All right."
Andrew lifted a heavy stone and struggled over to where Nathan stood. Stephen hoisted an even heavier rock, grimacing at the pain in his ribs. He carried it over to the boys and placed it on top of the wall.
"How's that?" Stephen asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm.
They'd been working on King Arthur's "castle" the entire morning, hauling rocks of all sizes. The result was a very respectable fortress wall.
"It looks grand," Nathan enthused, walking around the structure. It was nearly five feet high and over twelve feet long.
"And we finished not a moment too soon," Stephen said, dropping down onto the grass. "Between my shoulder and my ribs, I'm ready to rest." He stretched out on his back, and shielded his eyes from the bright sun with his forearm.
"But now it's time to play Knights of the Round Table," Nathan protested. "We have to don our suits of armor."
Stephen groaned, and peeked out from beneath his arm at the two eager boys. "Oh, all right," he grumbled. "But first this knight needs to rest a bit." He winced as a pain shot through his overworked shoulder. "Some refreshments are in order, I think."
"We'll fetch some water from the lake," Andrew offered.
The two boys scurried off, and Stephen breathed a sigh of relief, enjoying the brief respite. The sun warmed his skin, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. An insect flew by and he lifted a lazy hand to swat it away. In spite of his weariness, he'd thoroughly enjoyed his morning with Andrew and Nathan, just as he'd enjoyed their company yesterday. He'd initially sought them out in a desperate attempt to avoid Hayley, but he'd quickly discovered they were bright, intelligent lads, and surprisingly well mannered in spite of their good-natured bickering. They'd taught Stephen how to fish, and laughed uproariously at his reluctance to skewer the fat, wiggly
worm on the hook.
But after a few tries, Stephen had mastered the grisly task and actually enjoyed himself. He couldn't recall ever laughing so much. Young boys, Stephen decided, were not nearly so difficult as he'd previously thought. In fact, they were quite delightful to talk to and spend time with.
Today he'd helped them add on to their castle. They already had constructed several other "buildings," and Stephen couldn't help but admire the time and effort the boys had obviously devoted to their Camelot. As a child, Stephen had had very few opportunities to play. Nearly all his time had been spent learning everything his father deemed necessary in order to one day inherit the dukedom.
Gregory and Victoria had enjoyed much more free time to indulge in childish games. Their father was less strict with his daughter and second son. He allowed them to run about the estate and play—anything to keep them occupied and out of his way—but Stephen rarely joined in. His days were spent in the schoolroom under the harsh eyes of his countless tutors. So here I am, at eight and twenty, running around in the forest like a child, and having a damn good time doing it, too.
Just then the boys returned with a bucketful of cold water. Stephen took a long, thirsty drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His whiskers prickled his skin, and he realized it had been several days since Hayley had shaved him. He ran his hand over his stubbly cheeks and recalled the feel of her soft breasts pressing on his arm as she leaned over his chest to scrape the razor against his face. Asking her to shave him again was probably not a good idea.
Andrew and Nathan plopped themselves down next to Stephen, and he turned his attention to them. He stifled a smile when he realized both boys' shirtsleeves were rolled up and their buttons unfastened in a fashion similar to his own. Evidently they were emulating him. Unexpectedly, pride bubbled up in his chest.
He watched Andrew stroke his hands down his face the way Stephen had just done. "I suppose I'll need to shave soon," the boy said casually.
Before Stephen could reply, Nathan burst out laughing. "Are you daft?" He made a big show of peering at his older brother's face. "Not even one hair. Balder than an egg, you are."
Andrew's face flushed. "I am not. I have plenty of whiskers." He turned to Stephen. "Don't I, Mr. Barrettson?"
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