His-Yankee-Bride--Rose-Gordon Page 8

  “Ah, so you do wish to marry me.”

  He ground his teeth. “I never said that.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “I don't understand why you're being so stubborn.”

  “And I don't understand why you think I want to offer you marriage.”

  Carolina's face fell. “I already told you. It's the way you look at me.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps I think you're beautiful. But that's as far as my attraction for you goes.” He tore his eyes away and coughed, silently praying she didn't challenge the validity of his words.

  Silence filled the air between them and he dared not venture a look in her direction. “Are you practicing your near honesty now?” she asked airily, emphasizing the word near.

  He ground his teeth. “No. That was a perfectly honest statement.”

  “All of it?”

  “Yes,” he bit off.

  “Say what you wish.” She gestured to the food she'd laid out. “Wouldn't you like to join me? I'm sure you're hungry after working so hard this morning.”

  “No, I'm quite content, thank you. I had a large bowl of slop before I came out here. I should be able to tread water for at least another four hours before requiring anything else.”

  “Suit yourself,” she called back, taking a bite of a roasted chicken leg. “You do realize if you tread water for four hours straight, you'll likely get a blistering sunburn?”

  It wouldn't take that long. He'd been so hot the last few days he'd taken his shirt off several times before feeling his skin burn and remembering to put it back on. That's actually why he came to the pond: to soothe the blisters he already had. Unfortunately, they might only get worse if he didn't get out of the sun soon. “Then perhaps, if you don't wish such a fate as blistered skin upon your darling, you should leave so he may dress.”

  Carolina nearly lost her grip on her chicken leg. “Now, I'm certainly not leaving.”

  “Why, so you might torture me longer?”

  “No, because you just admitted to being my darling.”

  “You know that wasn't what I meant.” He brought his cupped hand up to the surface of the water and moved it in a sweeping semi-circle, creating a large spray of water. “Why are you here?”

  “To enjoy a picnic.”

  “And it's just a coincidence you decided to have your picnic forty feet from a naked man?”

  “Actually, it is. I didn't know you were here when I came to the pond.”

  A few minutes went by with John treading water and Carolina happily eating her lunch.

  “Why are you really here, Carolina,” he burst out at last.

  “I told you. I came to the pond to have a picnic.”

  “No, not that. Why are you always finding reasons to turn up where I am?”

  “So we can talk.”

  “Why do you want to talk to me so much?”

  She flipped her long thick braid over her shoulder. “Because I want you to know there's nothing to be ashamed of. I don't care that you don't have as much money as the men in Charleston. Your lack of wealth doesn't matter to me and won't influence my decision to marry you.”

  “So you think by plaguing me, one day you'll break down my defenses and I'll ask you to marry me,” he said bluntly.

  “Yes. No.” She blinked at him. “When worded like that, it sounds most unkind.”

  “Ah, then it came out how I meant it.” He'd tried humoring her, ignoring her, scandalizing her, and nicely telling her he had no desire to marry her; and nothing had worked to deter her. Perhaps the only way she'd understand would be if he abandoned all the tact and decorum his tutors had tried to instill in him and gave her the blunt truth. “Carolina, listen to me. I cannot fathom why you enjoy my company so much. Nor, do I pretend to know why you think I plan to offer you marriage. But I don't. The look you think you see in my eyes is lust—not love.”

  “You're wrong,” she fired back, matching his fierce tone. “I know you're wrong. You're just scared to admit your feelings for me. But I hope for your sake that you don't tread water and play this game too long. I might be sitting on the shore waiting for you now, but I won't always be here.” Then, either to prove her point or save herself from embarrassing herself further, she took to her feet and walked away.

  John watched her retreating form as she made her way through the trees and felt torn. Likely, he'd gotten rid of her permanently. Unfortunately, it was at the expense of her feelings. And blast it all; now that he'd done it, he wasn't so sure it was what he wanted after all.

  Before someone showed up to collect the picnic hamper Carolina had abandoned on the shore, he got out of the water and pulled his clothes on.

  “What are you doing here?”

  John snapped his head up and met Gabriel's brown eyes. “I was swimming.”

  Gabriel dropped his gaze to the picnic hamper at John's feet. “Ironic, because I just passed Lina on the other side of the trees, and she said she'd been here having a picnic.”

  Tension fisted in John's gut. “She did,” he confirmed. The proof was there. There was no use lying about it.

  “And you were swimming,” Gabriel's words a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.”

  Gabriel's eyes traveled from John's wet hair to his dry trousers. “Would you care to offer me any type of explanation?”

  “No, I don't believe I would.”

  Gabriel didn't crack the slightest hint of a smile. “You do realize, though this is considered the 'new world' and we've abandoned most of the same customs you still honor, we have not abandoned the one regarding unwed ladies being alone with gentlemen—especially one who's just confessed to having been undressed in her presence—and I am within my rights to demand you marry her.”

  John crossed his arms. “You can demand it. And I'll even honor it if you do so. But as a brother who clearly loves his sister, I don't think you'll make such a demand because you wouldn't wish to condemn her to a life of misery with an unhappy groom.”

  “Do you find her disagreeable, then?”

  “Not disagreeable, exactly; she seems to have a very nice personality when she's not angry or running after me with glasses of water while trying to convince me that I'm being ridiculous for not putting aside some pride she's imagined I carry around with me in order for me to marry her.” He grimaced. “I hate to tell you this, Gabriel, but your sister is too forward by half.”

  Gabriel sighed. “I can't blame her. Mother's never bothered to teach Lina to be a lady. She's too absorbed in her own doings. But don't worry; I'll take care of this.”

  “You're not going to hurt her feelings, are you?” John asked, finding a sudden fascination with the bark on a nearby tree.

  Though John couldn't see them, he felt Gabriel's eyes boring into him. “No,” Gabriel said slowly. “Though why you should care whether I hurt her feelings or not does seem a bit odd.”

  John bristled. “Yes, well, I think it's odd that after you came back outside from the kitchen earlier, you informed me that we didn't have enough boards to continue working for the day and suggested I go to the pastures. However, I know I saw at least twenty-four boards behind the big house, and you don't hear me musing about the coincidence, do you?”

  Gabriel threw his hands into the air. “Point taken.”

  ~Chapter Twelve~

  John winced as the rough fabric of his shirt rubbed against his skin. Just as Carolina had predicted, he'd blistered and burned. While it had hurt mildly yesterday, it was quite intense today—almost as intense as the headache he'd had since he’d woken up this morning.

  “Banks,” Mr. Ellis called from the open window in the big house. “I'd like to talk to you.”

  John froze. He needed to talk to Mr. Ellis, too. But the look on the older man's face made it fairly clear they did not wish to discuss the same thing. Carolina seemed convinced the two of them were to be married and had likely thought it prudent to discuss the matter of John working here with her father. He let out a deep brea
th and walked inside the big house. “Sir?”

  Mr. Ellis gestured to the settee closest to him. John hesitated. Mrs. Ellis had made it quite clear he was unwelcome in the house. She might expire on the spot if she walked in to find him sitting on her satin settee in her formal parlor.

  “Sit,” Mr. Ellis encouraged.

  John gingerly sat as close to the edge of the settee as he could.

  “Don't mind her,” Mr. Ellis said with a scowl. “Sometimes I think she'd have preferred it if I'd not come back from the war at all.”

  The bitter disappointment in his voice was unmistakable even to John. “Surely she doesn't think that. She's just unhappy that I'm here.”

  Mr. Ellis shook his head and frowned. “No. She was this way before you arrived. I thought she might be forlorn because Gabriel hadn’t returned.” He twisted his lips. “I didn't believe Lina when she tried to convince me that wasn't the reason. But after spending the last six years inside the house with her and then witnessing her lack of excitement at Gabriel's return, I'm more inclined to believe Lina.” He shook his head, a rueful expression on his face this time. “Damnable girl, she is,” he muttered, a pained expression on his face. “When she was younger, she used to tell me she might not always understand words, but she could decipher actions and facial expressions. I guess she was right even then, but I was too doubtful to see it.”

  Unease settled in John's stomach. Was Mr. Ellis telling him this because he truly believed it, or because he, too, was trying to convince John that he and Carolina should make a match? Either way, the entire conversation was making him unsettled. Try to fight it as much as he might, he did find himself attracted to Carolina and desperately hoped the whole “it's in your eyes” claim was just a ploy.

  Otherwise, he was in trouble indeed.

  “Is something troubling you, son?” Mr. Ellis asked, startling John.

  He swallowed. “No.”

  Mr. Ellis didn't look very convinced but didn't say anything further. “I've been meaning to talk to you about something.” He grimaced and shifted in his invalid's chair as best he could then used his hand to roll himself backward and away from where the sun was flooding the room through the large window to his left. “How would you like to stay on here at Lowland Cross?”

  “I thank you very much for the offer, but soon I'll have all I need.” He found a sudden fascination with the laces on his boot and mumbled, “It's time I go home.” How strange that a small wave of sadness washed over him at putting voice to those words. He dismissed the unwelcome emotion easily enough. He had been on this side of the ocean for more than a year now; it was natural that he'd feel a little sad about leaving.

  “You don't have to,” Mr. Ellis said. “We won't hold it against you that you're an Englishman.”

  John ran his hand through his blond hair the way he'd witnessed Edward doing so many times. Carolina had to be behind this conversation. He shifted in his seat, but not so much that he rubbed any dirt from his trousers onto the green settee. “Mr. Ellis,” he began unevenly. “My interest in...er....what I mean is...” He shifted again as something akin to nausea settled into his stomach. How exactly did one tell a lady's father, who just so happened to be his employer, he had no interest in marriage to her without both losing his job and angering said man for hurting his daughter? What a coil; one that was making him feel like he was about to lose his breakfast. “Mr. Ellis, my interest here at Lowland Cross is to earn an honest wage. I'm not here to pursue your daughter.”

  Mr. Ellis blinked. “I never said you were.” His eyes narrowed. “Is there something I need to know about, Banks?”

  “No, sir,” John rushed to say, heat creeping up his face. “I just thought...” He cleared his throat and patted his chest with his hand, then flinched at the added pain of touching himself.

  “Lina's been relentlessly pursuing John,” Gabriel said, limping into the room.

  “I wouldn't say she's been relentless,” John said with a frown. He didn't require Gabriel's assistance with this, and for some reason, his involvement was swiftly becoming more annoying than anything Carolina had ever said or done. “She's just a bit—” he waved his right hand in a circle through the air— “I can't think of a good word to describe it other than to say she keeps showing up.”

  “And it annoys him,” Gabriel added.

  John scowled at his friend.

  “Well, doesn't it?” Gabriel asked.

  John swallowed. “Yes,” he said, curling his fingers into the fabric of his trousers, so he wouldn't pat his chest and hurt himself again. It wasn't Carolina, in general, that annoyed him, but the thoughts that ran through his head while she was present.

  She was a very beautiful woman, and as much as he'd like to deny it, he certainly desired her. But as much as he desired her and spent his nights dreaming of removing one of her fancy dresses, he couldn't do that without offering her marriage. That was the crux of it: he couldn't offer her marriage. They might be content with each other for a while, but eventually her scandalous behavior would lead to his destruction. And unlike his father, who'd fallen in love with and married a lady whose affections lay elsewhere, he had no desire for either of them to be publicly embarrassed.

  Across the room, Mr. Ellis sat quietly with his head cocked to the side, staring at him. “So you have no interest in marrying my daughter?” he asked at last.

  John sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he'd specifically asked about marriage and not an interest in his daughter in general. For he knew he wouldn’t have been able to lie to him had he asked the latter. He met the older man's eyes. “No.”

  Mr. Ellis lowered his gaze and nodded his head once. “I'll be sure to speak to my daughter.”

  “Speak to me about what?” Carolina said, walking into the room as if she were floating on air.

  She wore a lavender dress with white lacy accents that clung to her full bosom in a way certain to drive any man mad with desire. He jerked his gaze away and refused to look in her father's direction.

  “You’re plaguing John,” Gabriel said, seemingly oblivious to John's discomfort. “He doesn't like you coming out to speak to him while he's working.”

  Carolina blanched as if her brother had struck her, and John had the strangest urge to refute Gabriel's words and comfort her. But that wouldn't do anybody any good. She'd just take that as encouragement and that'd only lead to more trouble. Better to just wound her pride a little today than devastate her when it was time to leave.

  “I brought him water,” she explained to their father, who was staring at her intently.

  “You find being brought a glass of water to be an annoyance?” Mr. Ellis asked, piercing John with his steely gaze.

  John pursed his lips together. When stated like that, he was the one who seemed to be unreasonable. He shot a pointed look to Gabriel. Why did he have to bring this up today? John was perfectly content he'd handled the situation with Carolina yesterday. Now, she thought he went around telling everyone she was an annoyance and even got her father involved. He sighed. “I don't wish to cause any trouble. I didn't ask her to bring me the water, and I should hate for her to think she has to in order to be hospitable.”

  All three of the other occupants in the room stared at him.

  “Son, were you trained in the art of wartime diplomacy?”

  John grinned. “No. If I told you what I'd been trained to be, you probably wouldn't believe me.” With his dirty, haggard appearance and understanding of manual labor, nobody would believe he was the younger son of a wealthy baron who'd always imagined he'd grow up to become a quiet country vicar, whose only cuts on his fingers would be gained by flipping pages of his Bible.

  “Well, nobody here cares what you came from, just that you do an excellent job—which you clearly do. Now that Lina won't be interrupting you, I can't wait to see what you accomplish around here. Let's go,” Gabriel said, giving John a hearty slap on the back.

  John jerked—and though he was embarras
sed to admit as much, he yelped—at the pain of Gabriel's palm colliding with his sunburned back.

  He immediately straightened and tried to ignore the inquisitive stares of Mr. Ellis and Gabriel.

  “I'd be happy to bring you some tea leaves for your sunburn, but I'd hate to be an annoyance,” Carolina said with a triumphant smile; then, before he could form a response, she swept from the room as if she were the fairest in the land. Which, undoubtedly she was.

  ~Chapter Thirteen~

  Carolina was angry. And mortified. Oh, and decidedly unsympathetic toward John as she stood in the hall just outside the parlor and watched him remove his shirt, exposing a burn worse than any she'd ever seen. His skin was a dark red that rivaled the color of an apple's peel.

  If she were anything like her mother, she'd prance back in there and remind him had he listened to her and come out of the water, he wouldn't resemble a boiled lobster. But she wasn't like that. Nor was she the type who could idly stand by when somebody was in pain—no matter how much she thought he might deserve it.

  Tearing her eyes away from the painful sight, she went up to her room where she’d hidden a jar of salve made from honey mixed with aloe and tea leaves. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat at the sight of the little jar. She'd first made the ointment to soothe the broken flesh of one of the field hands when Forrester, their previous overseer, had used the whip on him. After that night, she'd mixed together a small jar and kept it in her room for whenever it might be needed.

  She gripped the jar tightly and descended the stairs.

  “Do you know where Bethel is?” Gabriel asked, poking his head out of the parlor. “I rang but nobody came.”

  “Mother asked Bethel to air out the attics, and both Mary and Cherrie were sent to the sewing house to make Mother another dress for the supper she's hosting later this week.”

  Gabriel scowled. “Why does she need another dress? Does she not think she has enough already?” He shook his head. “Never mind; could you find someone to bring us some water and cloth, please? I'd do it myself, but...”