catfish?”
“I didn’t see one,” a boy’s voice replied.
“Well, I’ll check. You stay in bed.”
The metal frame creaked, and Bailey’s head appeared above hers. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Pecos Bill doesn’t live here. You have the wrong house.”
“It’s really her?” The bed bounced again.
A quick frown and he vanished into the dark room. “Appears so. No lady I know would be sneaking around at night unless it was that brazen Slue-Foot Sue. Now you get to sleep. I played you the moon song like I promised. I’m going to sneak to the kitchen for a drink, but when I come back I want to hear you snoring like your pa.”
Something rustled inside and Molly heard the distinct snap of suspenders. A tiny shock ran up her spine. Good thing she couldn’t see in the window. She hadn’t considered the peril of peeking into a man’s bedchamber at night.
Trying not to rustle the leaves, she reached the back porch just as Bailey eased the door closed behind him. No wonder the suspenders had snapped so loudly. They’d hit bare skin.
He crossed his arms over his chest and came to the edge of the porch. Not wanting to raise her voice, Molly started toward him. Her foot hit the porch step, but with an outstretched hand he stopped her.
“No you don’t. Get over there.” He motioned to a spot on the other side of the rosebushes lining the balustrade.
“My goodness, Bailey. Are you that scared of me?” But her voice shook. There was so much of him. Skin everywhere she looked.
“Don’t you have this confused?” he asked. “In the fairy tales isn’t the prince supposed to come to the sleeping maiden’s window?”
“I don’t read fairy tales. In real life, nothing good happens while you sleep, only wrinkles.”
“Then say what you have to say. We shouldn’t be alone at night in a place like this.” He motioned wide to the moonlit yard, his complete naked span from fingertip to fingertip exposed.
Her breath caught. Until now she’d only guessed what he looked like, based on the hard muscles she felt through his clothing. If she had known . . .
“Don’t look at me like that. I swear, if anyone deserved to be kidnapped and dragged to the parson, it’s you. If your father had any idea how you go looking for trouble, he’d lock you up.”
“It’s your own fault. How am I supposed to forget?”
A hoot owl startled them both. Molly waited until the bird finished its call, waited for the sparks between them to calm, before she spoke.
“You really hurt me, pushing me away like you did.” She pulled a stem from the rosebush and began breaking off the thorns. “I understand why, but it still hurt.”
“I know.” She could feel his heavy gaze on her as he spoke. “I thought it was for the best.”
“This doesn’t feel best.”
“Amen, sister.”
Him and his religious talk.
Come to think of it, she had a confession, too. “Since then, I’ve acted shamefully. I’ve tried to upset you and make you jealous.” A thorn stuck her finger. She squeezed it until a dark drop appeared. “No matter what happens next, it’s not out of spite. I want you to know I wouldn’t go that far.”
The wind moved the bushes, scratching the banister and sending the cloying scent of old blooms into the air.
“Have you already decided what happens next?” Bailey bent at the waist and rested his arms atop the simple wood railing. “Mr. Fenton told me he’s ready to declare his intentions. I have to applaud you. Looks like you’ve been successful.”
Molly blinked and then waved that suggestion away like a horsefly. “Fenton? Never. I’m not interested in that pompous goat.”
“You played interested not too long ago. Has someone else caught your eye?”
She squirmed. Had Edward Pierrepont fulfilled all her aspirations, or had he made it clear that no one would replace Bailey?
“How’s your job with the cobbler?” she asked.
“Sales couldn’t be better, but I’ve been a disappointment
“I didn’t see one,” a boy’s voice replied.
“Well, I’ll check. You stay in bed.”
The metal frame creaked, and Bailey’s head appeared above hers. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Pecos Bill doesn’t live here. You have the wrong house.”
“It’s really her?” The bed bounced again.
A quick frown and he vanished into the dark room. “Appears so. No lady I know would be sneaking around at night unless it was that brazen Slue-Foot Sue. Now you get to sleep. I played you the moon song like I promised. I’m going to sneak to the kitchen for a drink, but when I come back I want to hear you snoring like your pa.”
Something rustled inside and Molly heard the distinct snap of suspenders. A tiny shock ran up her spine. Good thing she couldn’t see in the window. She hadn’t considered the peril of peeking into a man’s bedchamber at night.
Trying not to rustle the leaves, she reached the back porch just as Bailey eased the door closed behind him. No wonder the suspenders had snapped so loudly. They’d hit bare skin.
He crossed his arms over his chest and came to the edge of the porch. Not wanting to raise her voice, Molly started toward him. Her foot hit the porch step, but with an outstretched hand he stopped her.
“No you don’t. Get over there.” He motioned to a spot on the other side of the rosebushes lining the balustrade.
“My goodness, Bailey. Are you that scared of me?” But her voice shook. There was so much of him. Skin everywhere she looked.
“Don’t you have this confused?” he asked. “In the fairy tales isn’t the prince supposed to come to the sleeping maiden’s window?”
“I don’t read fairy tales. In real life, nothing good happens while you sleep, only wrinkles.”
“Then say what you have to say. We shouldn’t be alone at night in a place like this.” He motioned wide to the moonlit yard, his complete naked span from fingertip to fingertip exposed.
Her breath caught. Until now she’d only guessed what he looked like, based on the hard muscles she felt through his clothing. If she had known . . .
“Don’t look at me like that. I swear, if anyone deserved to be kidnapped and dragged to the parson, it’s you. If your father had any idea how you go looking for trouble, he’d lock you up.”
“It’s your own fault. How am I supposed to forget?”
A hoot owl startled them both. Molly waited until the bird finished its call, waited for the sparks between them to calm, before she spoke.
“You really hurt me, pushing me away like you did.” She pulled a stem from the rosebush and began breaking off the thorns. “I understand why, but it still hurt.”
“I know.” She could feel his heavy gaze on her as he spoke. “I thought it was for the best.”
“This doesn’t feel best.”
“Amen, sister.”
Him and his religious talk.
Come to think of it, she had a confession, too. “Since then, I’ve acted shamefully. I’ve tried to upset you and make you jealous.” A thorn stuck her finger. She squeezed it until a dark drop appeared. “No matter what happens next, it’s not out of spite. I want you to know I wouldn’t go that far.”
The wind moved the bushes, scratching the banister and sending the cloying scent of old blooms into the air.
“Have you already decided what happens next?” Bailey bent at the waist and rested his arms atop the simple wood railing. “Mr. Fenton told me he’s ready to declare his intentions. I have to applaud you. Looks like you’ve been successful.”
Molly blinked and then waved that suggestion away like a horsefly. “Fenton? Never. I’m not interested in that pompous goat.”
“You played interested not too long ago. Has someone else caught your eye?”
She squirmed. Had Edward Pierrepont fulfilled all her aspirations, or had he made it clear that no one would replace Bailey?
“How’s your job with the cobbler?” she asked.
“Sales couldn’t be better, but I’ve been a disappointment
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