What had gotten into him? Until tonight, he had always acted the gentleman. As the nephew of her father’s business partner and the man most likely to assume the management of Franklin, Talbot, and Sons Accountants, both families had encouraged the courtship.
Daniel lifted the flask to his lips once more and swallowed. “Empty.” He sneered. “That will be rectified when we arrive at this ridiculous ball.”
“Ridiculous ball? Why did you ask me to attend if it’s so ridiculous?”
Daniel snorted. “It’s what I’m expected to do, isn’t it? Trot the little darling around to the events of the season until we enter into wedded bliss.” Daniel mimicked holding a bouquet of flowers and batted his eyelashes like a young girl.
He had gone too far in his jesting. Isabelle twisted on the bench and stared out the window. She’d been so thrilled when Daniel had invited her to the Allen family’s May ball. Cornelius Talbot, Daniel’s uncle and a former college roommate of Louis Allen, owned a standing invite to the most notable private ball of the spring season. Isabelle’s family had never received an invitation.
Isabelle’s mother, as thrilled as Isabelle herself about the invitation, had helped her pick a dress design. Their seamstress, Charlotte, had not disappointed them when she’d sewn an amazing creation of soft gray silk with yellow scalloped tulle sleeves. Large yellow embroidered butterflies trailed down the skirt and around the hem. Isabelle and her mother had fashioned the tea-colored roses stitched along the neckline and over one shoulder. Even Father had remarked on how well the color of the dress suited Isabelle’s complexion.
Daniel had not said a single word about Isabelle’s dress or the care she’d taken in braiding her hair when she had strolled into the vestibule that evening to find him conversing with Father and tapping one black oxford against the gleaming floor. The departure from her home had been hurried, bordering on rude, as he’d simply tossed her cloak over his arm and escorted her out the door. Judging by his current behavior, Isabelle should not have left with him.
Isabelle’s mother would be horrified to hear how Daniel acted under the influence of strong spirits.
Etiquette required all interactions within Daniel and Isabelle’s courtship to be chaperoned. Even so, without her parents’ knowledge, she and Daniel had met alone on two occasions after he had persuaded her it would allow them to get to know one another better.
Isabelle had agreed that the scrutiny of every conversation during their outings and visits in the parlor had grown irksome. When Daniel had suggested the unescorted ride to the dance a few days before, Isabelle hadn’t argued. In fact, the suggestion had brought a pleasant tingle to her stomach. The thrill of their clandestine journey was now gone. “My parents will be upset when they discover you’ve taken me out alone.”
Daniel pinched the brim of his gray hat. How had she ever taken his natty clothes and extensive grooming as anything other than conceit?
Daniel huffed. “As for the word taken, it’s hardly fair, my dear. You were happy enough to step into the carriage. But don’t worry, there’s no need for them to know. I’ve arranged for Peter and his sister to deliver Kittie to the ball. He’s taken a shine to her, you know.”
Dear, sweet Kittie deserved someone as kind as Peter. Kittie wouldn’t have compromised herself—like Isabelle had.
“Kittie thinks your father is delivering you to the ball, as that’s what I told Peter.”
Why had Daniel planned so extensively to get Isabelle alone in the carriage? It was only a ten-minute ride to the Allens’ home in the Central District.
“I’m not feeling well, Daniel. Would you please return me to my home? I won’t be bothered at all if you go on to the dance. I’m sure you’ll find several young ladies willing to add you to their card.” More than several, Daniel’s arrival last October to work at Father’s company had caused excitement in mothers across the city.
At times, Isabelle had enjoyed the green in the other girls’ eyes as Daniel escorted her to the dance floor. His golden brown hair, swept back from a widow’s peak, fell in waves to his shoulders. When he’d gazed at her, twirling around the floor, his dark eyes had carried intelligence and compassion. His full lips, with their adorable pucker in the center, had promised Isabelle passion.
That Daniel was nothing like the man he was behaving like today. Isabelle didn’t want to get to know this Daniel.
“Sick or not, I wouldn’t want you to give up so easily. I’m sure if Miles takes us on a jaunt out in the country, you’ll feel much better for the fresh air.”
“What fresh air?” Daniel had locked the carriage up tight in spite of the mild spring weather.
He pressed himself against her as he leaned over to open the window and signal the driver to detour further along the lakeside. Doing so, he sent her chiffon hat tumbling from her head.
Isabelle clutched the hat in her lap to keep it from falling to the carriage floor. “I don’t want to go, take me home. You can give the Allens my regrets.”
Daniel closed the window before bracing his arm across her bodice. Leaning in, he placed a kiss on her neck at the base of her ear.
Isabelle pressed her shoulders into the corner. The stink of Daniel’s breath rolled her stomach. He’d never been so rough. “Daniel! What are you doing? Take me home right now or I’ll call for your driver!”
He bent his head to her neck once more and laughed against her skin. The vibration slunk down her spine.
“Orin’s my man. He won’t hear you, he never does.”
Isabelle’s legs were wooden pegs. Even though her arm was looped through Daniel’s, she still faltered on the top step leading to the wraparound porch of the Allens’ sprawling two-story home. Fairy lights nestled on the window ledges cast a glow on their passage to the front door.
As they approached the hosts, Daniel patted Isabelle’s grip on his sleeve and smiled widely enough to expose both upper and lower teeth—predator’s teeth.
Nausea rolled up from the throbbing in Isabelle’s stomach. She swallowed the urge to heave. Why had Daniel insisted on attending the ball after what had just happened?
“Mr. and Mrs. Allen, good evening.” Daniel tipped his head.
There was nothing good about this evening. Pain coursed down Isabelle’s thighs as Daniel nudged her into the home.
Kittie started across the oak paneled foyer toward them, waving, Peter in her wake.
Another heave. Isabelle couldn’t face Kittie, not now. Her best friend since their governesses let them play in the park together as young girls, Kittie wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t understand why Isabelle had gotten in the coach alone with Daniel. And Isabelle would never tell her, never tell a soul, what had occurred in the carriage.
Kittie didn’t like Daniel. She had put up with him for Isabelle’s sake, but more than once she’d warned Isabelle that he wasn’t what he pretended to be—a gentleman. She’d pointed out the lingering gaze on another woman’s face, the prolonged holding of a mother’s hand, and the rumors of impropriety that had surfaced from his former hometown.
Isabelle had ignored all of Kittie’s warnings and, on several occasions, had accused her of being jealous.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Allen.” Isabelle yanked in a breath. “I’m not feeling well. Would you please direct me to the toilet?”
Mr. Allen blinked back his surprise.
“Yes,” Mrs. Allen turned toward the hall. “Come with me.”
Kittie’s eyes widened as Isabelle let Mrs. Allen whisk her away from the congested foyer.
“In here.” Mrs. Allen opened a paneled door before prompting Isabelle to enter the tiled bath by pressing the center of her back. “Do you need anything?” she asked, searching Isabelle’s face before lifting a fine eyebrow.
Yes, Isabelle needed something. She needed to go home, climb in her bed, and pretend the evening never happened.
Chapter 8
Preach doffed his cap when he entered the post office and met Ellis’s gaze. E
llis shrugged and jerked his head toward the corner of the room. Isabelle was seated on a bench staring at a wrinkled telegram slip.
Her face bore no smile, and she looked as if she’d been run over by a carriage. The telegram had not brought good news. Preach crossed the floor, but Isabelle did not look up.
“Miss Franklin.”
She continued to stare at the paper now quaking in her hands. When Preach sat on the bench next to her, she flinched.
After scooting several inches away, he spoke in a soft voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you. When I didn’t find you at Miss Sophie’s, I thought you might still be here. Are you all right?”
Isabelle exhaled. “I don’t suppose I am all right. Here’s my father’s response to my request.” She passed him the telegram.
Preach read the short message. His heart twisted when he realized he’d been right. Her father demanded the couple be married. Who was this Daniel? “You’re to be married?” His voice cracked as he said the words. Isabelle’s gaze drew to his.
“No. I’m not.”
The vehemence in her voice surprised him. Isabelle’s dark eyes dared him not to believe her.
“Your father wants you to marry Daniel, but you don’t want to?”
“My father wants me to marry Daniel, my mother would let me choose my own destiny. I would like to become a governess or perhaps a teacher.”
“I’m sure there’s more than one man who would marry you.”
Fine lines appeared at the corners of Isabelle’s mouth as it turned up in amusement. “I haven’t considered all my options.”
Preach bit back a reply, He couldn’t make an offer.
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I just know I won’t marry Daniel.”
The dejection in her voice tore at his gut. She shouldn’t have to stay in Stony Creek because she didn’t have the money. He cleared his throat. “Does that mean you’re going back to the camp? I could give you the funds to travel if you have somewhere else to go.” Ever since he was saved, Preach had sent his pay to his ma for safekeeping, but Perley was always good for a loan, although his interest was steep. Some of the men owed him their whole paycheck by the time Joe Pollitt delivered the crisp bills of their wages to the bunkhouse.
“I’ll go back to the camp.” Plucking at the material of her skirt, she continued, “It’s as good a place as any to figure out what I want to do next.”
Knowing she chose to return to the camp stirred up lightness in his heart—a joy not burdened by guilt or shame. Isabelle may not be the woman for Preach, but it had been so long since he had felt anything other than temptation with the fairer sex, he’d given up hope that he could simply be happy just knowing them. His prayers must be having some effect.
Preach surrounded her gloved hands with one of his own and pressed. “I’ll collect the horse and meet you at Miss Sophie’s.”
An hour later, Preach reined Rosie to a point half way up Cougar Ridge Mountain, where he and Isabelle dismounted. Preach never tired of the view. The sun reflected off the soft grays and browns of the surrounding shale faces as they gathered to magnificent peaks topped with white hats of snow. The valley spread in the dark greens of a forest thick with coniferous trees. Bright golds and oranges from the poplars’ fall leaves blazed like a fire along the wide river, as blue as the sky, which flowed through Stony Creek and continued east across the broad valley.
The same river that took the camp’s winter’s worth of logs out to the sawmill. Several of the men would join the river drive in the spring. Preach had never felt the hankering to go along. He liked his summers back home on the small farm in Alberta his ma and pa had worked their whole lives.
“It’s beautiful.” Isabelle stared across the valley. “It almost makes you think…”
When she didn't finish, he turned to her. “Think what?” Standing here with Isabelle, watching her take in the view, he could almost believe in a future for the two of them—a cozy log cabin, several children playing by the hearth.
“I don’t know, it’s just beautiful.”
He turned back to the vista. “This is my favorite spot and the best view along this road. Sometimes, when it gets to be too much, I ride out here and spend a couple of hours reading my Bible under a tree.” It was true these days. Not always, though. There was a hollow, warmed by the sun and sheltered from the wind, which lay just below the edge of the point. Preach used to buy a bottle in town and drink it down in the hideaway so he wouldn’t have to share it with the others.
Isabelle tipped her head back. Her gaze held a question. “When what gets to be too much?”
As she studied his face, his resolve melted. He drank in the delicate rise of her cheek bones, the soft curve of her lips, and leaned toward her.
“Preach?”
His head snapped back. What had he been thinking?
How much should he tell her? How long would it be before she figured it out on her own? He wasn’t all that he made himself out to be, regardless of what the people of Stony Creek thought.
He struggled. He struggled hard against the temptations of his old life—the drink, the gambling, the women. Since he had come to know the Lord, there wasn’t a day that went by Preach wasn’t defending himself against the onslaught of the devil and his schemes. It wore on a man, and sometimes he needed time out of the fray, away from the men’s rough talk and banter, so he wouldn’t be drawn back in—another reason to find a suitable wife.
She didn’t need to know all that. “The close quarters at the camp can get to you after a while.”
Isabelle stared across the valley. “Things can get to you, all right.”
“We should probably keep going. Your Aunt Lou won’t rest until you turn up.” Preach slung Isabelle up behind him on the saddle and tugged on the reins to back Rosie up before guiding her toward the rough road leading to the camp.
Fifteen minutes later, Rosie faltered on a steep incline along a game trail linking two broad curves in the road. Isabelle gasped before slinging her arms around Preach’s waist.
“I think we’re too much for the horse,” she said.
Preach couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from turning up in a smile. A good thing Isabelle couldn’t see it. She might not be the woman for him, but he’d been waiting for her to clamp on since they’d left town.
He reached out and smoothed the horse’s mane. “You’ll be fine won’t you, girl?”
“Please let me off. The horse shouldn’t have to suffer because I was impetuous.”
Rosie turned her ears back and twitched them at the rise in Isabelle’s pitch.
“Settle down. You’re spooking her. This horse is use to hauling big loads, the two of us are no problem for her.”
“Please. Let me get off and walk.”
“It’ll be another two hours if you get off now. We’re just past half way.”
“I don’t care how far it is. I want to get off!” Isabelle pushed back from the saddle and motioned to sling her leg over.
What had gotten into her? Preach wrenched the reins, and the horse stopped. “Give me a minute, would you? You’re going to hurt yourself.” He dismounted from the horse and locked his fingers together. Isabelle slipped a boot into the support and descended. The girl weighed nothing at all.
After smoothing her skirt, she tossed her carpet bag over one shoulder and turned to walk up the snaked trail.
“I wish you’d get back on the horse. The going’s a lot harder up hill.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Isabelle took two steps up the trail, her boot caught on a root, and she staggered sideways before landing in the underbrush and letting out a soft “ouch.”
Preach lifted her to an upright position. “You hurt yourself?”
She huffed and yanked her arm out of his grip.
“Just let me be.” Isabelle straightened her narrow shoulders and continued up the trail.
After wrapping Rosie’s reins around a fist, he followed, bu
t before rounding the next bend, her skirt caught up in a wild rose bush encroaching on the path. She tugged it away, snapping several branches, and almost lost her footing once more.
How could he let her be? The woman was going to hurt herself, it was obvious she had no experience walking bush trails. She’d most likely twist her ankle, if not worse. “Look, let’s get back up on the horse. Rosie can walk these trails better than you can.”
Isabelle shook her head and picked up her pace.
What was her problem? Rosie had simply stumbled earlier. It happened all the time on the rough terrain. “It’ll save a lot of wear and tear on your dress.” And keep Preach from feeling guilty about letting her walk.
Isabelle didn’t look back as she responded. “I’ll worry about my dress, thank you.”
“Look, trust me, the horse will be fine. We’ll be fine.”
Isabelle stopped abruptly and made a slow arc to face him. She glared up at him, her lips flattened into a line as if she were angry. “I will forever regret the last time I trusted a man.”
Isabelle’s heart thumped a wild beat in her chest as she challenged Preach on the pathetic trail in the middle of nowhere. Anger coursed through every vein. She wanted to scream, to kick a nearby tree, or to throw something like the thick chunk of broken branch not two feet from the trail.
It wouldn’t do any good. At least it never had. Since the night Daniel had taken advantage of her, she never knew when the anger would strike, and its vehemence always caught her off guard. She hadn’t meant to say what she felt out loud, though, and Preach looked confused. No one had heard her speak—not her parents, not even Kittie—about what bothered Isabelle most concerning the night of the May Ball.
She had trusted Daniel, and he had betrayed that trust.
Preach stared back at her as if she’d lost her mind, and maybe she had. It wasn’t his fault—being a man.
Even if he was a pastor, Isabelle didn’t know him overly well. A man could say anything in a bunch of letters. By leaving town with him—alone—she’d made herself vulnerable again. She should have stayed in town with Miss Sophie for a couple of days until Aunt Lou had come to get the mail. When would she learn?
Rocky Mountain Redemption Page 7