Understanding Mercy

by Janelle Ashley

  For some reason she could not imagine standing here holding hands with Ian in front of a room full of beaming people. How had her life become such a confusing mess?

  Later after the ceremony, everyone went to the Brown’s house for an elaborate feast. Tables, china, and cutlery had been borrowed from every neighbor on Beacon Hill, and Mercy looked around in amazement at the tremendous amount of work and organization that went into pulling off this feat.

  For the meal, she found herself seated next to Able Cotton, Luke’s best man. She chuckled as he devoured not only the clam chowder, but the stewed oysters, duck, baked rye bread, potatoes, pumpkin casserole, Indian cornbread, and a whole platter of maple syrup candy.

  “Where are you fitting all that food, Able? Honestly, you eat enough to feed an army.”

  With a playful glint in his eye, Able replied, “I’m nourishing myself to sustain my energy for a whole night of dancing with you.”

  She laughed and then looked over to see Priscilla cutting the bride’s cake. Mrs. Brown and some other ladies passed out the spice cake to all the unmarried ladies. Mercy let out a little groan when a plate was placed in front of her.

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched to see who got the nutmeg root. Mercy hated doing this at weddings. It always made her uncomfortable when people watched her eat, but especially when they all waited in anticipation to see if she would be the one to bite down on something in her cake . Please don’t let it be me.

  Within seconds she realized her silent plea went unheeded when she felt her teeth hit a root. With as much dignity as possible, she reached into her mouth and pulled out the root.

  Sure enough, she heard shouts of, “Mercy Creed is the next to marry.”

  She wished the earth would swallow her whole. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr. Berkeley leaning up against a wall watching her, but again she had no idea what he was thinking.

  Suddenly Able grabbed her hand. “Are you ready? I hear the band starting up outside.”

  “But it’s cold outside.”

  “The dancing will get our blood running and warm us up.”

  Mercy allowed Able to pull her to her feet.

  As they walked outside, Able asked, “Do you think Mr. Berkeley will make it to any of our abolition meetings while he is here?”

  “I really wouldn’t know.”

  “You should ask him to join us next Saturday.”

  “You ask him.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I would gladly ask him, Mercy, but he would be much more likely to come if you ask him.”

  Mercy smiled but reserved comment.

  Able quickly stepped her into a dance and spun her around in the steps of the Virginia Reel.

  “You are a fabulous dancer Able.”

  “I know. So are you.”

  Once the music stopped, Able asked, “I have some friends visiting who would like to meet you. Would you allow me to introduce you?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s why I like you, Mercy Creed.”

  Able led her to a group of three young men. After the introductions, Mercy found herself being spun about for three more dances. The men were friendly, charming, amusing and she had to admit she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

  Several times she caught a glimpse of Mr. Berkeley who looked as if he was chewing on rocks. She wished Priscilla was watching so she could ask if Mr. Berkeley’s expression meant he was jealous. For some silly and selfish reason, she hoped he was.

  The musicians took a break, and Mercy walked to the refreshment table to pour herself a glass of punch.

  As she reached for the ladle, a large hand grabbed it first and a deep voice from behind her murmured, “Here. Let me.”

  She felt his breath on her bare shoulder and a riot of sensation shot down her side. Closing her eyes for a moment to steady herself, she steeled her spine and turned around to see Mr. Berkeley’s magnificent face gazing down on her.

  Without saying a word, he held out the glass. When she took it from him, her fingers brushed against his.

  Her body reacted so strongly it flustered her and she barely managed a breathy, “Thank you.” When he said nothing, she added, “I was thirsty.”

  “I can imagine. You have been a busy bee tonight.”

  “I like dancing. It’s fun.”

  “You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself.”

  “That’s probably because I am.” Oh, why had she said that? Mr. Berkeley made her nervous and she wanted to sound amusing and instead she sounded like a bragger…like Cordelia.

  His response surprised her when he asked with annoyance, “So each of those fellows thinks he has a chance with you?”

  She shrugged and mumbled, “I suppose so,” because she had no idea what else to say.

  He looked at her with concern. “When I heard you still had not married, I thought perhaps it was because the men in these parts thought the rumor you were…thought the rumor was true. Is that not the case? Has the rumor died down?”

  “It has died down, but it has not died completely. I can still feel whispers behind my back sometimes.” She tried to lighten the embarrassing subject, so she said flippantly, “I might have even more men attempting to court me if it wasn’t for the rumors, so it’s probably a good thing.”

  He shook his head in bewilderment. “You confuse me. You act like you don’t want anyone to ever court you. Why is that?”

  She wasn’t about to answer, so she just shrugged and looked away.

  He muttered, “You are such a mystery.”

  “Yes, well, better a mystery than predictable, I suppose.” She took a quick sip of punch and wanting to change the subject, asked lightly, “So why aren’t you dancing?”

  His normally confident eyes flashed with insecurity. “I told you once before. I don’t know how.”

  “I remember that. But I’d think the countess would insist you learn so you could dance with her.”

  “I did more than go to balls when I was in Paris.” He looked over her shoulder as he said with irritation, “You know, I did spend the last two years building a European shipping empire. You cannot do that an hour or two here and there between parties.” He moved away from the table and leaned his hip against the wall.

  She stepped closer to join him. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “You didn’t.” An awkward silence fell between them. Finally, he offered, “I’m sorry if I sounded short with you.” She watched him swallow hard. “I get the impression you and Miss Brown, I mean Mrs. Ainsworth think my relationship with the countess is serious.”

  “You aren’t serious with her then?”

  “Would it matter to you?” His eyes were so probing it flustered her.

  How should she answer? It did matter. It mattered to her more than she ever wanted to admit. But the wretched part was that it should not matter to her. Not at all. The charged silence between them became an almost tangible thing.

  Finally, he let out a harsh laugh. “You seem to be giving that question quite a bit of thought.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll await your response before I answer.”

  She took another sip of punch and spoke over the rim of her glass, “Are you toying with me?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m testing the waters.”

  She had no idea how to respond to that. He surprised her by taking the punch away from her and setting it on the table before grabbing her hand and placing it on his arm.

  “Shall we take a turn about the place?”

  “I suppose so,” she muttered stupidly.

  “I would’ve preferred a more enthusiastic reply, but I guess that will have to do.”

  He pulled her along and before she knew it, he led her around the side of the house to a secluded part of the garden.

  Trepidation danced along her spine. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Some place where I can be alone with you.”

  “
Do you think that is wise?”

  “Probably not.” He stopped abruptly and leaned her against an ivy covered brick wall and stared down at her while he gripped her shoulders.

  The feeling of his warm hands against her bare skin was a strange sensation. Priscilla had said any girl would melt like butter if Mr. Berkeley merely touched them. And Priscilla was right!

  In fascination, she watched the muscles in his wide, strong jaw clench and un-clench.

  At last, he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I cannot keep up this charade, Mercy. I just cannot. Tell me the truth. Did you miss me?”

  She couldn’t lie. She should, but she couldn’t. Almost against her will she nodded slowly and heard herself ask, “Did you miss me?”

  His words came out in a torrent of heated emotion, “Every day. Every single day. I wanted to forget you. I tried hard to forget you. I just couldn’t do it. You are all I want.”

  “But why? The countess is beautiful and sophisticated. Why would you choose me over her?”

  “I like her, but I don’t respect her, Mercy.”

  “You shouldn’t respect me either.”

  In frustration and bewilderment, he shook his head. “I just don’t understand why you always say things like that.”

  “Because it’s true. I’m not as good a person as you think I am. You could do better than me.”

  “Stop it, Mercy,” he said tenderly as he brought his forehead to rest against hers. “You cannot talk me out of how I feel about you. Believe me; I’ve tried enough to talk myself out of it.”

  He pulled back and stared into her eyes with a scorching heat. “I assumed you would be married by now. That is the only reason I thought I could be strong enough to see you. But you aren’t married. You could still be mine. I don’t understand this attachment I have to you. I’m surrounded by beautiful, talented, amusing women, but all I want is you. Even though you don’t want me. All day I’ve been thinking that I’ll not put myself in the position to be rejected by you again—that if you want me, you must come to me this time. But I’m not strong enough to wait for you to make the first move.”

  He closed his eyes for several long moments as if in pain before opening them slowly and pleading, “Mercy, please tell me your feelings for me have changed. Tell me that this time you want me too.”

  His chest heaved with emotion as he brought his face a hair’s breath away and traced the contours of her lips with his thumb.

  “If you want me to kiss you, I will.” His voice took on an urgent intensity, “Tell me you want me to kiss you, Mercy. Tell me.”

  She could only imagine what it would feel like to be kissed by this passionate, vibrant man. Moment by moment, she could feel her resolve slipping. But if she lost her resolve, what would be left of her? In many ways, she felt as if she dangled at the end of a thin rope that kept her from plunging into the pit of being a complete reprobate.

  She longed to melt against Addison’s strong chest and feel his lips upon hers. She wanted it more than anything.

  Never once had she allowed herself to think of Mr. Berkeley like that when she was awake. In her dreams though, he was always Addison. Now, she could surrender to him like she did in her dreams.

  As she looked up into Addison’s devouring eyes, she could feel his heated breath on her face as he waited…for the slightest acceptance on her part. She wanted this as much as he did.

  But when she closed her eyes, she saw Ian’s face and she just could not do it. A tear spilled down her cheek and as she lifted her eyes, a look of confusion slowly crept on his beautiful face.

  His voice dripped with concern, “Mercy, why are you crying?” He gently kissed the tear away. “Sweetheart, what is it? I told you once I can read you. I know you care for me. I can see it. I can feel it. You want me to kiss you right now more than you have ever wanted anything in your life. But something is holding you back from me. What is it?”

  Somehow she managed between little sobs, “I can’t tell you. I wish I could tell you. I want to tell you.” The tears now came fast and furious. “You are right. I do want you to kiss me more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I do care for you. Oh, Addison. I care for you deeply. More than you could ever know.”

  “Then what is stopping you?” Anger crept into his voice. “Tell me, Mercy. You owe me that.”

  “It’s because…because…I—” The words choked in her throat. She wanted to tell the truth. Her long held, dark secret almost slipped out from its dungeon.

  A harsh, shrill laugh sounded and both of them looked over into the mocking, dark eyes of Cordelia.

  Something snapped inside Mercy, and she wrenched away from Addison’s hands on her shoulders and in a few short steps she lunged at Cordelia, grabbed the top of her arms and shook her.

  Seething, Mercy said, “What are you looking so victorious about, you little snake? Mr. Berkeley and I have not seen each other for two years and we are just talking. Just talking, did you hear me? If you go back over and say anything…anything other than that, I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life. Do you hear me? Last time, I turned the other cheek, but I’ve only got one more cheek, and this time I won’t turn it. You keep your venom filled tongue in your mouth, or I’ll rip it out. In fact, I ought to just rip it out right now!”

  Cordelia’s eyes widened in shock, and Addison’s strong hands restrained Mercy from behind as he soothed, “It’s all right. Shh. She won’t say anything.”

  Then his gentle voice took on a foreboding tone, “You won’t say anything. Will you, Cordelia?”

  Cordelia paled and nodded, clearly frightened.

  “Good. I’m warning you; don’t cross me again, or as Miss Creed put so eloquently, you will live to regret it. Your careless words had devastating consequences last time for both Miss Creed and me, but this time, any careless words you speak will have devastating consequences for you.” His voice was edged with steel, “Do I make myself clear?”

  With a terrified nod, she agreed, “Yes. Clear.”

  “Good. Let’s return to the festivities, shall we?”

  As soon as they got near the dance floor, Mercy was snatched up for another dance. She spun and twirled around the floor. She noticed Mr. Berkeley glance at her once, and then walk into the house. She never saw him again the rest of the night.

  As much as she despised Cordelia, she had to admit her timing had been perfect. If she hadn’t shown up right then, Mr. Berkeley would’ve demanded answers from her. But Cordelia’s interruption only offered a reprieve. Mr. Berkeley would come back for answers—answers he deserved, but she didn’t know how to give.

  Understanding Mercy

  Understanding Mercy

  Chapter Eleven

  Colorful leaves swirled around Addison as he made his way down the street toward Mr. Creed’s office. The crisp autumn air seemed to help wake him up a bit, but he still had to lift his gloved hand to cover a yawn. For the second night in a row he slept little. The first night he tossed and turned because of his apprehension in seeing Mercy again. Last night he tossed and turned because of his confusion in seeing Mercy again.

  Somehow he always knew that under Mercy’s calm and serene surface lurked a passionate, hot blooded person. He bit back a smile recalling how she’d lunged at Cordelia and threatened to rip her tongue out of her mouth. Her whole body shook with fury, and he wondered if he hadn’t restrained her, whether or not she would’ve done it right then and there. What a bloody mess that would’ve been. Picturing Cordelia squirming on the ground while Mercy stood above her holding her tongue did have a certain appeal, but he was glad he stopped her. He certainly hoped he was never on the receiving end of Mercy’s fury.

  In some ways Mercy seemed like such a simple girl, but he’d come to realize that she was actually quite complicated. For the last two years he lived with the painful thought that Mercy rejected him because she didn’t want him. But now he understood this wasn’t the case. Mercy did want him. He knew it like he kne
w his own name. She did care for him. She tried to hide it, but she couldn’t. When he looked into her bottomless green eyes he saw depths of restrained emotion. The question was why. Why did she try so desperately hard to resist her feelings for him?

  Mercy was a mystery and he would not leave Boston this time until he found his answers. But another mystery awaited him right now. He put his hand on the doorknob of Mr. Creed’s office and paused for a moment as a sharp prickle of apprehension shot up his spine. His well-honed instincts told him an enemy lurked nearby, and he survived years of heated combats by listening to these instincts. He took a deep breath to steady himself and then swung open the door and found himself staring into the eyes of Ian McGregor.