The ruckus she made in the process gained Brice and his companion’s attention. He had called out something to her, but Brice was too far away for his words to take on distinction. Not that she cared what he had to say. All she wanted was to remove her person from the Winslow property and the sight of Brice from her near-to-crying eyes.
Her stallions had another idea. They led her wagon into a soft patch of dirt and the cart’s wheel sank and buried itself deep into the earth. She looked toward Brice’s house and watched with dismay as he mounted his horse. He was coming to her rescue.
“Please,” she pleaded to her team. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Carrots, sugar, anything, “she begged. “Just get us the blasted Hell out of here.” Yet as she suspected, it did no good.
“What are you doing alone this far out of town?” he yelled out at her.
His question and tone raised her ire in spite of the fact that he looked dash-fire fetching. Finer than she’d ever seen him. The waves of his coal black hair rested unfashionably wild to his shoulders and Abigail thought the societal blunder suited him well. It afforded him the appearance of having boyish charm, yet the firm creases aside his emerald green eyes provided testimony to his manliness. He stood before her jacketless and wearing only a shirt and vest with baggy grey trousers. Abigail steadied her breath and forbade her inner yearnings to surface.
Once gaining her composure, Abigail finally said, “As I am a grown woman and not a child, I have it on my own authority to go wherever I wish.”
“Well your cousin should be flogged for alloying you such liberties,” he said angrily. “Of all places in Mecklenburg this is the last place you should find yourself.”
Abigail looked back toward the house and saw the woman standing in the middle of the path. She waved at Abigail and called out a greeting. Abigail reluctantly returned a nod for her salutation, but all she truly wanted to do was pull each tress from the woman’s head for laying her hands so familiarly on Brice. It was then she realized that she agreed with Brice. Being at his home was the last place she should have been on that day, or any other.
“I’ll be remedying my poor judgment once my wagon is freed.” She snapped opened her silk gilded fan and drove the heat away, regardless that the weather didn’t dictate the need.
“The hell you are.” Brice maneuvered the horses back and forward until the wagon pulled from the hole it had been buried. He then looked at her thoughtfully. “Give me a moment to say goodbye to my guests and I’ll see you back to town.”
“You can go back to your guest now, Brice. I can return just as safely as I came.” She looked down the lane and saw the woman still lingering there. Abigail wondered if the woman was as equally jealous as she was of her. “You can go back to your dallying with that woman.”
His lips bowed into a smile. Brice looked down the lane and nodded his head toward the woman who anxiously awaited his return. “Dallying? Lily Sue?”
“That’s my daughter,” a harsh voice came. The corn stalks opened up and revealed a very large, rusty gut of a man with an exceptionally wide chest and neared to stand seven feet tall. If his size wasn’t intimidating enough, the iron-branded scar on his face was. The letters MS had at one time been seared into his skin and left behind a permanent mark to publicize his shame and crime. She immediately wondered who he had killed.
“This is Edward Smith,” Brice said. “He’s Lily Sue and my late wife’s father.”
“Oh,” is all Abigail could manage, whether out of embarrassment or intimidation from the man’s size and manner, she wasn’t sure. She curtsied and respectfully lowered her head, but Abigail looked away when the man sneered at her.
“Lily Sue said you might need help,” the man snorted out at Brice.
“Wheel wasn’t too deep and I got it out.”
The man rambled off an unintelligible reply and stomped off down the lane toward his daughter. Abigail wondered what type of woman Brice had married to have been reared by such a horrid man. She had met swine with more manners than he beheld.
“Don’t be fretting,” Brice said. “He’s like that with everyone. He has a better temperament once you get to know him.”
“I surely don’t intend to be around long enough to get acquainted with him,” Abigail harshly whispered.
“That’s probably good, because I think it was a bad idea that you came here, and the sooner you leave, the better.”
Abigail wondered if something more recent had happened to Brice that threatened his life or if he simply wanted to avoid her. She supposed that her confusion and hurt unwittingly crossed her face when Brice’s tone softened and he smiled.
“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you,” Brice admitted, and he encased her hand into both of his.
Her heart instantly skipped a beat and heat radiated from her head to heel. Yet as if he regretted the action he caused her, he immediately let her hand go.
“It’s best that you stay away from me until we figure out who is trying to kill me.”
He stared at Abigail for a few moments. Several expressions crossed his face but Abigail couldn’t read him well enough to know whether it was sincerity or regret. She thought about his touch and the desire he revealed when they had lain together on her mother’s bed. Not many other thoughts entertained her mind since it happened.
“Abilene,” he began. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Abigail cringed inside. His tone was soothing and tender, but to hear words coated with such sweetness to a name that wasn’t her own bothered her. Again, she thought about telling him the truth.
“For the time being, it’s best I stay away from you and Abigail. The other night placed you both in harm’s way. Either or both of you could have been injured, or much worse,” he continued.
“Yes, and we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your future coffers.” Although she silently agreed she’d not want anything to happen to Tess, she wondered if his concern was more for the dowry than her safety.
“Do you really think that ill-will of me? That I would care more about money than someone’s life?” he asked. He held a smile but Abigail noticed the humor didn’t reach his eyes. She almost believed he was genuinely offended by her accusation.
“Mister Winslow, have you forgotten that you won her in a game of chance?” she sniped out.
“That very well may be, Abilene, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t a sincere fondness for Miss Abigail.”
“You’re fond of her?” she asked suspiciously and then scoffed.
“Indeed, I am,” he declared. “And not due to her dowry,” he added.
“Am I to believe that if Abigail didn’t possess such a bountiful endowment that you’d still want to court her?”
“Yes,” he quickly and easily replied. “Now that I’ve been reacquainted with Abigail, I see she has greatly changed since I knew her last. She is by far more agreeable now.”
His statement piqued her interest. “And what ways would that be? How is she different than the woman you rejected so many years ago? She is just as large now as when you saw her last.”
“Is that what she told you?” he asked. He cocked his head and looked perplexed. “It never had anything to do with her figure. I’d have thought my letter would have clearly explained it.”
“A letter?” she rushed out. In all the time she had known Brice, she hadn’t ever received a note from him. She wondered if he was lying in order to cover his true intent at wanting her dowry. “And what of its content?”
Brice smiled at her. “Well, that is a conversation I shall have with Abigail as it was, and still is, a private matter.” Abigail suspected he saw her disappointment and added. “I’ll say this much; Abigail has emerged out of her shell and now lives life instead of waiting for it to come to her. That makes her far more attractive than she once was. It makes a man want to forego other interesting prospects,” he said nodding in her direction. “A man would much rather acquire what he desires from within a w
oman than what is visible from the outside.”
“Bosh! You dare profess that her weight was never an issue with you?” she laughed her disbelief.
“Believe what you will, Miss Abilene. You weren’t there, I was.”
“Well, my dear cousin has told me enough that I feel that I was present during that time. You broke her heart, and I don’t recall her ever mentioning that you professed your undying love to her. And she most definitely didn’t mention a letter.”
“I never claimed that I loved her,” Brice corrected. “I thought she was intelligent, loyal, and witty, and at one point I did consider a serious interest in her.”
She wanted to believe him. “Then pray tell, what changed your mind?” she asked softly.
“As I stated, that is a conversation that would be best if partaken with Abigail. I believe there has been a misunderstanding. I’m now left wondering if Thomas withheld my letter to her.”
“Indeed,” Abigail sighed. “He very well may have,” she said. Thomas was well aware how she felt about Brice. It seemed unlikely that he’d keep something of such importance from her and wondered if Brice was fibbing. She was determined to make her way home and demand answers. Then a telling thought occurred to her. What was Brice’s purpose when trying to kiss her if he was honestly fond of Tess?
“You nearly kissed me,” she blurted out before she thought better of it.
A boyish grin emerged and a twinkle met his eye. “Indeed, I nearly did. But it’s rightly scandalous for you to say it aloud,” he said feigning his shock.
Abigail felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “If you have true feelings for Abigail, then what, may I ask, was the purpose of trying to kiss me?”
“I reckon that was me leaving my options open for other interesting prospects.”
“You expect me to compete for your affections against my cousin?” she asked. She was aghast at such an indecent notion.
Brice smiled wide and nodded his head.
“You presume that I’m willing to chase you whilst you are in pursuit of Abigail?”
“I wouldn’t be so audacious to state it so blatantly, but your assessment is accurate.”
Abigail’s mouth opened wide at Brice’s nerve. There wasn’t any way he could have been taken seriously, surely there wasn’t, Abigail thought. “It would appear you are more full of yourself that I first thought, Mister Brice Winslow. I shall not now or ever pursue you.”
Brice laughed aloud and snatched her up into his arms. It caught her by surprise. He looked down into her face and stared deep into her eyes. She struggled to pull away from him at first, but Abigail stopped her fight and clutched onto his shoulders for balance. She couldn’t decide if his boldness excited or scared her, or perhaps a little of both. A piece of her chestnut hair fell onto her face and he brushed it away with his fingertip, sending a course of chills through her body. His breath came sweet and soft on her cheek when he leaned down near her ear and whispered, “We’ll see about that.” He pulled away far enough to look into her eyes and Abigail felt weak from head to foot. She struggled to keep her breath steady so she wouldn’t give her anxiety away. That’s when it happened.
He kissed her.
She squirmed against him and tried to break free, but the smoothness of his lips brushing against her own like fine silk lessened her fight. It was her very first kiss. More so, it was with the man she’d fancied herself in love with for more years than she cared to remember. That’s when she concluded that she ought to be enjoying the moment instead of rebelling against him. She raised her hands to either side of his face and let her fingers entwine within his black mane of hair. Offering him no more resistance, he pulled her flush against his body and kissed her hard and long, as if he had been waiting for that moment as long as she. When he ended the kiss she couldn’t help but feel disappointment. Although the kiss was more delightful than she had ever imagined, she wanted it to last forever. She wanted that moment of feeling loved by him to last forever. Yet it couldn’t. And she wouldn’t allow him to think receiving her affections came so easy. That she came so easy.
She slapped him.
Brice rubbed his cheek and smiled. “Was that for honor’s sake?” he chuckled. He leaned closer toward her and his grin widened. “We both know you enjoyed it as much as I did.”
Abigail had nothing more to say. He was right and it irritated her. She gathered her skirts and marched to her wagon. Taking the reins, she hurried the horses toward home.
Brice’s laughter could be heard loud and strong in her wake.
CHAPTER SIX Abigail didn’t waste time making it to Thomas’s study. As usual, he sat amidst his journals and papers spread out in disarray atop his desk.
“Brice claims he had sent me a letter,” she said breathlessly. She had run the length of the wagon to his study, eager to hear what he knew of Brice’s missive.
Thomas began leafing through his papers atop his desk. “If he had left one, I fail to see it.”
“Not recently, you ninny,” she replied. “Before I left for Baltimore,” she added.
“Why are you asking about that now?”
“For the reason that I never received it!” she shouted.
“I most certainly gave it to you, Abigail. In fact, that is the reason I thought you went running away to Baltimore.”
“If Brice Winslow gave me a letter back then, do you think I’d have so quickly forgotten?” she replied, aggravated. “You most certainly didn’t give it to me,” she declared.
“I specifically recall placing it in your mahogany box that contained your missives.”
“That chest contained my old letters that had already been received, read, and replied to.”
“Now how would I have known that?”
Abigail didn’t waste words. She ran from Thomas’s study and out into the hall. She raised her skirts and ascended the steps two at a time. When she reached her room, she flung open her bureau and pitched old scarves and handkerchiefs that were neatly folded upon its base. They littered the floor in a ring around her. Beneath it all was the small wooden chest that contained her personal letters. She pulled it out and sat the old wooden container in front of her. Her hands shook in anticipation. Abigail wondered if she had read the letter five years past, if her life may had been lead differently. Perhaps the letter would have kept her in Mecklenburg and with Brice. Then again, she silently countered, had she stayed in town, she’d not have fled Mecklenburg and acquire a bout of melancholy that effectively resulted in her weight loss.
Taking in a deep breath to steady her hands, Abigail opened the box slowly. She carefully sifted through each missive and absently recalled bits and pieces of its subject by sender and date. Then, she came to the letter she sought. It was his letter. It had been folded and her name inscribed in large, bold lettering across its center and a small blue ribbon held it closed. She quietly cursed at herself for not being more observant when depositing her previous letters into the chest. Had she been more attentive, she’d had seen his correspondence. She swallowed hard and slid her finger beneath the ribbon knot and nervously unfolded the missive.
Dearest Abigail,
I send this letter of regret to inform you that I am unable to attend the Charlotte Spring Harvest Dance with you as we have previously arranged. As we have become closer acquainted of late, and am certain I can entrust you with my private affairs with discretion, I feel I owe you an explanation.
A family friend from Belmont has the misfortune of being with child without benefit of a husband. Her father, who has a frightening disposition, will most certainly bid her and her child harm if he learns of her predicament. Being such, I feel it is best that I save her from that fate and take her hand in marriage.
I apologize if this brings you stress. Your fondness for me is mutually returned. I have greatly enjoyed our recent strolls and discussions and believe that our common interest could have possibly flourished our relationship into something more. Yet my honor will no
t allow me to selfishly turn my back on a dear friend who will be reproached for a moment of lapsed judgment
I wish you great happiness and success in all your future endeavors.
Affectionately Yours,
Brice Winslow
Abigail swiped the tears from her eyes and retrieved a handkerchief that she had previously flung to the floor.
“Are you all right,” she heard Tess softly ask from the doorway.
Abigail looked up and Thomas and Tess stood side by side inside her doorway and looked at her with troubled expressions. She felt foolish that an aged letter would bring her such distress, but she didn’t care. Brice had sincerely cared for her at one time. That alone gave her reason to feel hope and happiness.
Abigail nodded and smiled. “Bittersweet tears,” she assured.
“My apologies for the letter, Abigail,” he offered. “I never thought for a moment you didn’t receive it. I had reckoned the contents were for the purpose of casting you off and that you had left for Baltimore to find solace. I saw no reason to rehash the issue of the note, so I never asked.”
“After Maggie warned me of Brice’s upcoming nuptials, and it following so soon after losing our parents, I couldn’t bear to stay in town. I needed a fresh start somewhere far from here.” She stood up and reached for her brother’s hand. “Had I received this letter then, I’d still have made the same decision to leave.”
“And what was in the letter?” Thomas asked.
“From the look on her face, I believe that is to remain private,” Tess smiled. She patted Abigail on the back. “If you’re truly all right, I’m going to return to my backgammon game with John.”
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