In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions) by Pamela Griffin Page A
Authors: Pamela Griffin
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“Anyway, I like her. And she was gawking because you asked if they were married. Fine thing! She was all right before you did that. For whatever reason, they want to keep their little affair a secret, so let them….”
Angel’s eyes widened as she looked after the tiny couple, now out of earshot.
Affair
? she mouthed and swung her annoyed gaze to Roland’s.
He wasn’t sure whether to apologize or excuse himself and seek escape.
“This is your fault,” she seethed. “You insisted on following me here, and now the entire carnival thinks we’re headed for the altar or are already married and hiding it. I’ve been hearing remarks like that for days.”
“And because I insisted on following you here,” he responded levelly, “those young hooligans didn’t try to come back and finish what they had started.”
“They probably wouldn’t have come back at all.”
“You can’t guarantee that. I know the type, remember.”
“How could I forget?” she responded sweetly, her eyes filleting him where he stood.
“I wish you would.”
At his quiet words, she clamped her lips tight, glancing away.
“Would it be so bad for them to think I happen to like you and want to see more of you?”
Her eyes snapped up to him again. “I told you once before, I’m not a loose woman, and I won’t be thought of that way!”
“No one thinks that.”
“An
affair
?” she reminded incredulously.
He winced at how vile she made the word sound. “Posey’s colorful vocabulary. You met the woman. She’d probably call a dame blinking her eyes as being cast under a witch’s spell.”
“Could you please not use that word?”
Her unexpected switch caught him off guard. “What word?
Witch
?”
“
Dame
. I don’t like it. It sounds… cheap.”
Roland had never associated the word as meaning anything but a lady. Everyone he knew used the slang term, but he nodded. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll stop.”
His quick acquiescence mollified her. “I’m sorry I jumped on you. I suppose it really isn’t your fault how they perceive us.”
“You’re upset. It’s understandable. If I hadn’t insisted on carrying your luggage, you’re right, they wouldn’t have immediately paired us off.” Word of mouth obviously spread fast through the carny grapevine. “But again, is it really so bad for them to think we might happen to like each other?”
Her eyes widened. “Do you?”
“Like you? Yes.”
She looked away as if suddenly at a loss, and he resisted the strong urge to ask if she returned the favor or at least no longer considered him the enemy.
“We’re attracting attention.” She released a weary breath, and he glanced around, noticing a few workers had stopped what they were doing to stare. “Let’s walk. To Chester’s tent, I believe it was?” She resumed moving down the midway.
Roland fell into step beside her, casting her sidelong glances. He wanted to know how his admission made her feel, but this was the worst possible time to broach the subject. If he tried, she might push him into the wall of the tent they now passed then run off as the whole thing came tumbling down on top of his head.
They arrived at Chester’s tent just as Cassie rushed out of it. Dashing her fingers beneath her eyes shining with tears, she appeared more than a little upset.
“Cassie?” Angel asked in concern.
The blond shook her head, her face a picture of complete distress. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She hurried away.
Angel looked after Cassie, as if uncertain what to do, then glanced up at Roland. He shrugged and shook his head, defeated when it came to a woman’s tears. He could barely figure out the woman with him, much less a near stranger. Even though the woman with him was almost that. So why, then, did he feel a connection to her, experience an urge to protect her, and battle
Angel’s eyes widened as she looked after the tiny couple, now out of earshot.
Affair
? she mouthed and swung her annoyed gaze to Roland’s.
He wasn’t sure whether to apologize or excuse himself and seek escape.
“This is your fault,” she seethed. “You insisted on following me here, and now the entire carnival thinks we’re headed for the altar or are already married and hiding it. I’ve been hearing remarks like that for days.”
“And because I insisted on following you here,” he responded levelly, “those young hooligans didn’t try to come back and finish what they had started.”
“They probably wouldn’t have come back at all.”
“You can’t guarantee that. I know the type, remember.”
“How could I forget?” she responded sweetly, her eyes filleting him where he stood.
“I wish you would.”
At his quiet words, she clamped her lips tight, glancing away.
“Would it be so bad for them to think I happen to like you and want to see more of you?”
Her eyes snapped up to him again. “I told you once before, I’m not a loose woman, and I won’t be thought of that way!”
“No one thinks that.”
“An
affair
?” she reminded incredulously.
He winced at how vile she made the word sound. “Posey’s colorful vocabulary. You met the woman. She’d probably call a dame blinking her eyes as being cast under a witch’s spell.”
“Could you please not use that word?”
Her unexpected switch caught him off guard. “What word?
Witch
?”
“
Dame
. I don’t like it. It sounds… cheap.”
Roland had never associated the word as meaning anything but a lady. Everyone he knew used the slang term, but he nodded. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll stop.”
His quick acquiescence mollified her. “I’m sorry I jumped on you. I suppose it really isn’t your fault how they perceive us.”
“You’re upset. It’s understandable. If I hadn’t insisted on carrying your luggage, you’re right, they wouldn’t have immediately paired us off.” Word of mouth obviously spread fast through the carny grapevine. “But again, is it really so bad for them to think we might happen to like each other?”
Her eyes widened. “Do you?”
“Like you? Yes.”
She looked away as if suddenly at a loss, and he resisted the strong urge to ask if she returned the favor or at least no longer considered him the enemy.
“We’re attracting attention.” She released a weary breath, and he glanced around, noticing a few workers had stopped what they were doing to stare. “Let’s walk. To Chester’s tent, I believe it was?” She resumed moving down the midway.
Roland fell into step beside her, casting her sidelong glances. He wanted to know how his admission made her feel, but this was the worst possible time to broach the subject. If he tried, she might push him into the wall of the tent they now passed then run off as the whole thing came tumbling down on top of his head.
They arrived at Chester’s tent just as Cassie rushed out of it. Dashing her fingers beneath her eyes shining with tears, she appeared more than a little upset.
“Cassie?” Angel asked in concern.
The blond shook her head, her face a picture of complete distress. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She hurried away.
Angel looked after Cassie, as if uncertain what to do, then glanced up at Roland. He shrugged and shook his head, defeated when it came to a woman’s tears. He could barely figure out the woman with him, much less a near stranger. Even though the woman with him was almost that. So why, then, did he feel a connection to her, experience an urge to protect her, and battle
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