him to get word right away.
She fought down the memory of how she'd
stood in her parlor and wept late Christmas night like a foolish little girl
disappointed by not getting the fancy doll she'd asked for under the tree.
Morgan had decorated the cottage for her as his gift, and the gesture had been
wonderful. So what if he hadn't kissed her or taken her in his arms again? So
what if they weren't to be lovers? Rachel knew this was best.
Still, she'd rather face a wild boar in
the woods alone than venture up these back stairs into the rake's private
domain. "I need to speak with Mr. Tremayne for a moment, Emily," she
announced as she took the first riser. "I've got a message for him from
Mr. Atkinson. I'll be right back down to go over the counts."
"Oh, but you can't go up there just
now. Wait a moment! Mr. Morgan's—" Emily snapped her mouth closed,
realizing Rachel had already passed the landing. She began taking inventory of
the larder and completing the tally sheet. She was working on the bottle counts
of gin and rye behind the bar when Morgan's voice interrupted.
"Emily, is Rachel about? That's her
ledger over there, isn't it?"
"Didn't you speak to her? She
trundled up the back stairs not five minutes past."
"Upstairs? To the third
floor?"
Emily went on the defensive. "I
tried to warn her you had company. Not what kind , mind you, but she'd
already dashed off before I could stop her."
Morgan bolted out the front door. Emily
stood shaking her head in disgust. "Talking to myself again. Ain't a
blooming soul in this place ever listens. Young widow dashin' up before I can
say nay. Himself with girls comin' and goin', runnin' off without his coat or
so much as a fare-thee-well. Don't know what this place is coming to, with
these scatterwits all around me." Thomas came in lugging a heavy pail.
"And you're the worst of the lot, Thomas Poole!"
Her husband's gape of utter confusion
became a sharp wince as the pail fell on his foot.
* * *
Rachel hurried toward the far corner of
the village square. Morgan cut diagonally across it and sprinted to catch her,
seizing her elbow. He spun her around. "Rachel? Emily said you were
looking for me."
"Mr. Atkinson's bringing the squire
over to see you." She tried to jerk free.
Morgan held fast to her arm and gulped a
breath. "I think you may have misunderstood something. Emily said you'd
gone upstairs. I—"
"Don't tell me I only imagined
Pamela hiding underneath that cloak and hood. I heard the rustling brocade
skirts. She dropped the hood once she got outside, and I saw her face
clearly."
"She came to repay the money her
father owed me."
"Something I've always found odd,
since she claims her father's well to do. If so, why borrow from you?"
"He had a rough spell. It's old
business. You heard what I told her at the dance. He was behind in clearing his
debt. She repaid the loan and went on her way."
"You came out of your rooms still
fastening your trousers. That must have been some payment you got."
His jaw dropped. "You're jealous ,
you silly Colonial."
She smacked him on the shoulder with a
balled fist. "Don't you ever call me that again!"
"But you are silly,
Rachel," he chuckled. "Nothing personal took place with Pamela. I've
explained as much. No matter—"
"Not silly," Rachel sputtered.
" Colonial . Don't you ever say that to me again. You only do it to
tease me. I'm an American. "
"Aye, but I use the other term as a
form of endearment," he answered, smiling broadly. "I thought you
knew that by now." His fingers stroked and caressed her arm. "Rachel,
you do believe me, don't you? It was purely business today. There's no reason
to be distressed."
She feigned having a speck of dust in
her eye. "I don't care either way. I just want to go home. People are
staring at us. Please let go of me."
She tried to pull away. His hand slid
down to capture her fingers. He dropped to one knee facing her. "I swear
on my word of honor nothing improper took place between
She fought down the memory of how she'd
stood in her parlor and wept late Christmas night like a foolish little girl
disappointed by not getting the fancy doll she'd asked for under the tree.
Morgan had decorated the cottage for her as his gift, and the gesture had been
wonderful. So what if he hadn't kissed her or taken her in his arms again? So
what if they weren't to be lovers? Rachel knew this was best.
Still, she'd rather face a wild boar in
the woods alone than venture up these back stairs into the rake's private
domain. "I need to speak with Mr. Tremayne for a moment, Emily," she
announced as she took the first riser. "I've got a message for him from
Mr. Atkinson. I'll be right back down to go over the counts."
"Oh, but you can't go up there just
now. Wait a moment! Mr. Morgan's—" Emily snapped her mouth closed,
realizing Rachel had already passed the landing. She began taking inventory of
the larder and completing the tally sheet. She was working on the bottle counts
of gin and rye behind the bar when Morgan's voice interrupted.
"Emily, is Rachel about? That's her
ledger over there, isn't it?"
"Didn't you speak to her? She
trundled up the back stairs not five minutes past."
"Upstairs? To the third
floor?"
Emily went on the defensive. "I
tried to warn her you had company. Not what kind , mind you, but she'd
already dashed off before I could stop her."
Morgan bolted out the front door. Emily
stood shaking her head in disgust. "Talking to myself again. Ain't a
blooming soul in this place ever listens. Young widow dashin' up before I can
say nay. Himself with girls comin' and goin', runnin' off without his coat or
so much as a fare-thee-well. Don't know what this place is coming to, with
these scatterwits all around me." Thomas came in lugging a heavy pail.
"And you're the worst of the lot, Thomas Poole!"
Her husband's gape of utter confusion
became a sharp wince as the pail fell on his foot.
* * *
Rachel hurried toward the far corner of
the village square. Morgan cut diagonally across it and sprinted to catch her,
seizing her elbow. He spun her around. "Rachel? Emily said you were
looking for me."
"Mr. Atkinson's bringing the squire
over to see you." She tried to jerk free.
Morgan held fast to her arm and gulped a
breath. "I think you may have misunderstood something. Emily said you'd
gone upstairs. I—"
"Don't tell me I only imagined
Pamela hiding underneath that cloak and hood. I heard the rustling brocade
skirts. She dropped the hood once she got outside, and I saw her face
clearly."
"She came to repay the money her
father owed me."
"Something I've always found odd,
since she claims her father's well to do. If so, why borrow from you?"
"He had a rough spell. It's old
business. You heard what I told her at the dance. He was behind in clearing his
debt. She repaid the loan and went on her way."
"You came out of your rooms still
fastening your trousers. That must have been some payment you got."
His jaw dropped. "You're jealous ,
you silly Colonial."
She smacked him on the shoulder with a
balled fist. "Don't you ever call me that again!"
"But you are silly,
Rachel," he chuckled. "Nothing personal took place with Pamela. I've
explained as much. No matter—"
"Not silly," Rachel sputtered.
" Colonial . Don't you ever say that to me again. You only do it to
tease me. I'm an American. "
"Aye, but I use the other term as a
form of endearment," he answered, smiling broadly. "I thought you
knew that by now." His fingers stroked and caressed her arm. "Rachel,
you do believe me, don't you? It was purely business today. There's no reason
to be distressed."
She feigned having a speck of dust in
her eye. "I don't care either way. I just want to go home. People are
staring at us. Please let go of me."
She tried to pull away. His hand slid
down to capture her fingers. He dropped to one knee facing her. "I swear
on my word of honor nothing improper took place between
Similar Books
