Читать книгу From Boss to Bridegroom - Karen Kirst - Страница 12
ОглавлениеQuinn soaked in the serene beauty of their surroundings, the endless green forests on either side of the lane alive with birds and squirrels and other wildlife. Gardenia blossoms sweetened the humid air.
“I’m glad we chose to walk.” The twins had needed time to put the finishing touches on their meal. He looked over at Nicole strolling quietly beside him. He added content with silence to the list of her attributes. “Too much inactivity and I get surly.”
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
He laughed outright at her sarcastic tone. “How could I have forgotten you got a taste of my surliness? Although, that was mostly your fault.”
“My fault?” she gaped.
“If you hadn’t given me the worst headache in history, I wouldn’t have had cause to be.”
Stopping short, she crossed her arms and glowered. “You weren’t the only one with good reason to be upset. Never in my life have I been handled in such a degrading manner.”
Memories surged...the roughness with which he’d bound her wrists. His mother would be appalled.
Guilt pricking his conscience, he sobered. “For that, I am truly sorry. My only defense is that I was acting on faulty assumptions. Will you forgive me?”
Some of the starch went out of her. Her lowered eyes tracking the grass-smattered lane beneath her black boots, she nodded. “Maybe you could get someone to take you hiking in the mountains.”
He blinked at the sudden change of topic. “Are you volunteering?”
“Me? No. I don’t have that kind of free time. Caleb knows the high country like the back of his hand. I’m sure he’d be willing to take you.”
From what he’d observed of the couple that morning during church, the man would not willingly leave his expectant wife, not even for a day’s outing. Nevertheless, he said, “Maybe I’ll speak to him about it.”
“What did you do in Boston to stave off the surliness?”
“Are you familiar with the sport of fencing?”
“I have heard of it,” she said drily.
He smiled, silently reminding himself not to assume the locals were cut off from the world. They had access to books and newspapers. And he wasn’t the only out-of-towner to move here. People from all walks of life had passed through the town, carrying with them stories of other places.
“I took up fencing a few years ago. My good friend Oliver and I practiced several times a week, and we entered competitions on a regular basis. That and swimming helped channel my energy. I enjoy people-watching, too, so I often strolled the city streets.”
Not only did he miss the competitions, he missed his outgoing, boisterous friend. As soon as he was settled, he’d extend an invitation. Always up for an adventure, Oliver was one of a handful of people who’d approved of Quinn’s plans. Since he wasn’t engaged or married, an extended trip to Tennessee wasn’t out of the question.
Nicole batted away a fly, nose wrinkling adorably. One look at the raven-haired beauty, and his friend would be instantly smitten. He wondered what his assistant would think of Oliver.
An uncomfortable feeling slid into his chest. The heat was suddenly too much. Shrugging out of his coat, he slung it over his shoulder.
“You never told me why you left a city full of unlimited opportunities to start over in our unremarkable town.”
“It’s not easy to explain.” He began walking again, and she fell into step beside him. “My family has been blessed. My great-grandfather Edward Darling founded Darling Industries, and it’s grown into a prosperous empire, for lack of a better word. We provide solid employment for a vast number of people. We’re in the position to fund many charitable works. That part of our life I am proud of. However, one doesn’t hold that particular position in society without having certain social responsibilities, ones I have grown exceedingly tired of in recent years.”
“You were required to entertain them?”
“According to my father, we have to coddle our current business partners and woo new ones in order to maintain our current level of success.”
Her gaze abandoned a bird’s nest in a nearby tree and fastened onto him. “What do you have against parties?”
He kicked up a shoulder. “I enjoy music and dancing and excellent food. I guess what bothers me is the shallow nature of it all. We weren’t vacationing with these people because they were family or close friends. It was for the sole purpose of insuring their continued support. I began to crave genuine relationships.”
Quinn thought of his last disappointment—Helene and the conversation he’d overheard between her and her friends—and how it had confirmed that a life of social climbing, the relentless pursuit of increased wealth, was not for him. “More than that, I needed to prove to myself that I could make it on my own. That I could accomplish something worthwhile apart from Darling Industries.”
“How did your parents take the news?”
Kneading the back of his neck, he winced. “I didn’t exactly prepare them. I waited until after I had already purchased the store.”
Dark brows lifted until hidden beneath the side sweep of her hair. “So it would be too late for them to try and talk you out of it?”
Perceptive went onto the list. “Partly, yes. I also acted quickly in order not to lose the opportunity. My father, especially, was blown away by my decision. Unlike my mother, he hadn’t seen the signs of my dissatisfaction. I suspect he thinks I will tire of small-town life and return within six months’ time.”
Her brow creased, and she would’ve spoken if a bundle of reddish-brown fur hadn’t ambushed her ankles.
He put a hand out. “Careful—”
“It’s all right. He’s a friend of mine.” Humor laced her voice as she bent and scooped up the wriggling dog.
Quinn watched, fascinated, as Nicole’s reserve melted away. Unmindful of her outfit, she snuggled the animal close to her chest, laughter as light as tinkling glass hovering in the still air as the dog attempted to lick her face. Without the armor in place, her radiance shone like rays piercing the clouds, her loveliness making his heart thump and his stomach twist uncomfortably.
Who was the real Nicole O’Malley? The lethal attacker with the killer aim? The distant duchess capable of giving a man frostbite with a single glare? Or the warm, alluring woman with soft eyes and a smile that promised dreams-come-true?
Quinn drew closer and, after letting the dog sniff his fingers, buried them in the thick fur. His scrutiny wasn’t on the dog, however. It was on Nicole’s face, waiting for—and dreading?—the inevitable change.
“What’s his name?”
“Cinnamon.”
He’d noticed her extra attention to Caleb’s horses yesterday morning. “You have a soft spot for animals and babies.”
“That’s because they don’t judge.” Twisting slightly, she glanced at the wide clearing that had opened up on their left and extended as far as the eye could see. “He belongs to my aunt and uncle.” In the distance, blue-toned mountains were framed against cerulean sky. A two-story cabin sat right in the center, surrounded by a large barn and outbuildings. Another, smaller cabin was tucked against the far left tree line. “Caleb and Rebecca live in the small one, and Uncle Sam and Aunt Mary have the large house. Rebecca’s younger sister, Amy, stays there with them. Josh and his wife, Kate, have a cabin behind the main house. Their property adjoins ours.”
“Family members that are also neighbors. That’s convenient.”
The guardedness rushed back, and he wondered at it.
“It can be.” With a brief kiss to Cinnamon’s head, she set him on the ground and watched pensively as he raced across the grass, diverted by a flitting butterfly.
At the decided lack of enthusiasm, he made to question her, but she headed him off. “We shouldn’t linger. Jane will worry the food might get cold.”
Quinn fell into step beside her, glad of the interruption. Her personal life was none of his business. In fact, he should probably limit spending time with her outside of the store. Maintaining a civil working relationship was paramount to success. Failure was not an outcome he was willing to explore.
* * *
Nicole watched as Quinn effortlessly charmed her mother and sisters. Seated diagonally from her at the head of the table, he answered their incessant questions with practiced ease, completely at home in their humble cabin in spite of the air of old-money clinging to him.
The black pin-striped suit coat, which he’d slipped into once again before entering their home, molded to the wide span of his shoulders like a second skin. He must have a personal tailor. He’d slipped the buttons free before easing his lean body into the scuffed wooden chair, giving her a glimpse of the silver-filigreed vest and crisp white shirt underneath hugging his torso.
Had he been born a charmer? Or had his skills been honed by his high-society life? Either way, he annoyed her.
She skewered a potato with more force than necessary, and it disintegrated into mush. Quinn’s vigilant liquid eyes focused on her. One brow lifted in silent question. Nicole mimicked his expression. The slow, impertinent smile that followed made her insides jittery. Not familiar with this particular reaction, she frowned at him, which only served to widen his smile.
Lowering her gaze, she concentrated on sipping the fragrant tea without spilling it.
“Won’t you miss living in Boston?” Across from Nicole, Jessica eyed their guest with open admiration.
Laying down his fork, he fiddled with the teacup’s handle. “I will miss my family. And my favorite Czech bakery. They sell the most delicious kolaches, pastries filled with cheese or fruit.” His expression turned wistful. “I’m at peace with my decision, however. I look forward to experiencing life in a rural, close-knit community.”
Nicole hid a smirk with her napkin. He’d soon learn small-town life wasn’t all lemon drops and roses.
Jessica looked at Nicole. “Our sister has talked about leaving Gatlinburg behind and starting fresh in the big city for years.”
Nicole restrained herself from kicking her under the table. It wasn’t that her dream was private—everyone in town was aware of her plans. But Quinn was her boss. Now that he knew she intended to leave town, he could possibly decide to find an early replacement. A tremor of unease wound its way through her. She desperately needed the income.
Quinn was looking at her with a strange mix of surprise and disappointment. “Is this true, Nicole?”
Before she could formulate an answer, Jane leaned forward in her chair, auburn hair brilliant in the afternoon light streaming through the windows. “Tell him your plans.”
“I told you I was a seamstress.”
“Yes...I recall the conversation.”
“My goal is to open a boutique of my own in Knoxville.”
“When?” He sat motionless, good humor draining away.
“She was supposed to go in March,” Jessica piped up. “She refuses to tell us why she had to postpone.”
“I—”
Their mother aimed a reprimanding glance at her youngest daughter. “That is Nicole’s business, young lady. Don’t pester her.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nicole attempted to gather her wits. No one could discover the true reason for the delay. “I—I will have the necessary funds eventually.”
Still unsmiling, Quinn sighed. “Emmett did not mention your plans. Your expertise will be missed.”
“I promise to give you ample notice of my departure.”
As if sensing her turmoil, he said, “I want you for as many days as I can have you.”
Nicole’s lips parted. Jessica giggled.
Red slashed his cheekbones as it sank in how his words had sounded, and he looked uncharacteristically uncertain. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant.” Dropping her napkin on the table, she stood abruptly and gathered her plate and silverware. “If we’re going to have time to look over the ledgers today I suggest we go. I have alterations to do later.”
“But you haven’t eaten dessert,” Jane protested.
Their mother rose, as well, smiling broadly at their guest. “I’ll send some with you. I’m sure you will want to take a break at some point.”
Nicole stumbled, nearly dumping her dish. Sure, she’d seen that speculative gleam in her mother’s eyes before, but in regards to her sisters. Not her. Surely she didn’t think she and Quinn would make a good match!
Setting her dishes in the dry sink, she pitched her voice low. “Please tell me you aren’t entertaining romantic notions about me and my boss.”
Alice patted Nicole’s arm. “Would that be so bad? He seems like a fine young man.”
Remembering his arrogance as he’d loftily informed her of impending changes, she swallowed a retort. Fine young man? Huh. “I’m not interested in him or anyone else. I have plans, remember?”
“Have you consulted God about those plans?” It wasn’t a harsh question. Concern and understanding were reflected in her lined face.
“I know you’d rather I stay here and, like Megan, settle down and maybe start a family. That’s not me. And, since God made me, He knows I wouldn’t be happy living a conventional life”
Nicole wasn’t about to admit that lately she’d been experiencing rogue thoughts...like what it might be like to have a man adore her the way Lucian did Megan. Or what it would feel like to hold her very own baby in her arms. Josh and Kate’s little girl, Victoria, had worked her way into her heart with zero effort. Simply holding her, absorbing her innocence and sweetness, had altered her view of parenthood.
“Well, it can’t hurt to have a friend, can it?” Her mother sliced up two generous portions of pear pie.
Nicole didn’t want Quinn Darling for a friend. The debonair Northerner wasn’t exactly comfortable to be around. On top of that, he was the last person she’d feel inclined to share confidences with.
When the dessert was carefully placed in a small basket, Nicole endured a motherly hug. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be home. Don’t expect me before supper, okay?”
Hopefully she could hurry along this session with Quinn. There was an errand she couldn’t put off.
* * *
Nicole pressed against the lichen-coated tree trunk, listening, waiting, heartbeat loud in her ears as she stared at the run-down shack tucked between three trees of varying size. In the lush canopy far above her head, birds were constantly in motion, the flap of their wings competing with rustling leaves and swaying limbs. A tickle on her pinkie caught her attention. Brushing off a tiny black ant, she checked the dense woods behind her. No one. Good.
Gripping the basket she’d snuck out of the mercantile following her blessedly brief tutoring session with Quinn, she picked her way over exposed roots and the damp, mossy forest floor. The midsummer sun rarely breached the leafy banner, and last autumn’s fallen leaves had yet to fully decompose. The air was dense, fragrant and slightly moist. Trickling stream water pulsed beneath all other forest sounds.
At the shack door, she rapped her knuckles against the brittle wood in a distinct pattern. A few seconds passed before the door scraped open and a young man with pleasant features, albeit strained and pale, stared back at her. His dishwater-blond hair hung limp across his forehead.
“Nicole.”
Shuffling a step back with the aid of his cane, he admitted her.
“How are you, Patrick?”
“Nothing has changed since the last time you asked. That was what? Two days ago?” His attempt at a smile failed, pain clouding his gray eyes.
She wished for the hundredth time he’d gotten proper care for his injured leg, wished he’d agreed to let her summon the doctor. It hadn’t healed properly, hence the ongoing pain.
Patrick’s younger sister, Lillian, greeted her with her customary hug. Nicole returned the embrace without a trace of awkwardness. She’d grown accustomed to the sweet-natured girl’s affection.
Lillian released her. “You look especially pretty today. How was the church service?”
“I’ll tell you all about it in a moment.” She lifted the basket. “First, I brought you some things.”
“You always do.” Patrick had lowered himself onto the ladder-back chair in the dim corner. Her ongoing charity bothered him a great deal. He was aware, as they all were, that he and his sister couldn’t survive without it.
“She knows we’ll pay her back someday.” Lillian carried it to the tiny, lopsided table shoved against the wall beside the door and eagerly lifted the checkered material. Her wavy flaxen hair, caught in a neat ponytail and tied with a strip of leather, hung to her waist and shone in the lamplight. Several hours remained before dusk fell, but the single window let in precious little natural light.
Moving to sit on one of two narrow beds, Nicole pondered their reaction to her news. The ancient bed frame creaked under her weight, and the mattress was pathetically thin. The ticking would need to be replaced soon. How was she supposed to accomplish that without arousing suspicion? Sometimes, the weight of this secret was almost too much to bear.
Lillian exclaimed over the paper and pencils. The fifteen-year-old was too thin, as was her brother, her skin as pale as the paper in her hands due to spending most daylight hours in this ruin they called home. Neither could detract from her fair beauty, however. Big, cornflower-blue eyes shone in a face that seemed perpetually filled with hope.
Patrick didn’t share his sister’s optimistic outlook. His worries, his deep-seated concern for his sister, cloaked him in perpetual strain. Bouncing the cane between his fingers, he stared hard at Nicole. “You look more pensive than usual. What’s bothering you?”
After six months of almost daily visits, they treated her as an older sibling. She considered them friends of the dearest kind, friends she’d never dreamed she’d find in her hometown. Patrick and Lillian didn’t care what her last name was. They didn’t know her family or that she paled in comparison to her sisters—Juliana, beautiful and courageous; Megan, the romantic dreamer who brought joy to children’s lives; sweet-tempered Jane, whose generosity of spirit bordered on legendary; and high-spirited Jessica, the twin who could bake her way out of any fix.
No, they liked her for her. A heady experience, it was the reason she’d do anything to protect them.
“Something happened yesterday before we opened the store.”
While she’d told them about her new boss, she’d left out the details of their first meeting. Patrick scowled. “It was him, wasn’t it? Our stand-in father was in town again.”
“I didn’t recognize him at first, but he introduced himself to Quinn.” Clasping her hands tightly on her lap, Nicole suppressed a shudder. “He had a sign with your names and descriptions, and he asked Quinn to post it on the board.”
White lines bracketed Patrick’s mouth as he gripped the cane. “Did he?”
“No. I asked to see it and, when he wasn’t looking, I slipped it in my pocket.”
Lillian sank onto the mattress beside Nicole, fingers worrying a tear in the coarse blanket. “You could get in trouble if he finds out.”
“I don’t like this,” Patrick said.
Nicole couldn’t feel bad about what she’d done, not knowing how risky hanging that sign would’ve been.
“Don’t worry. Quinn’s so busy plotting modifications to the store, he won’t even notice.”
“Even if you did post it,” Lillian said, “I don’t think we’d have anything to worry about. It’s not like we go anywhere where people would see us or ask our names.”
Their forced solitude, their bleak existence, was like a gaping wound that refused to heal. No matter where she was or what she was doing, she couldn’t not think about them here with no one but each other to talk to. Nicole hated that they were being punished when they were innocent of any wrongdoing. “I was hoping he’d have given up by now,” she admitted.
“Carl won’t do that,” Patrick said, defeat weighing him down. “He wants the necklace.”
She’d seen the ruby-and-diamond necklace that once belonged to their late mother. While she wasn’t an expert on jewelry, it appeared to be of great value. And because Carl had been married to their mother, he surely thought of it as his property.
“He will also go to any lengths to punish us for disappearing with it.”
She stared at his injured leg. Carl had done that to him. If he got his hands on Patrick a second time, there was no telling what he’d do.
“Let me involve Shane Timmons,” Nicole entreated, not for the first time. “He’s a fair man. He’ll help you. And you’ll finally be able to resume a normal life.”
Patrick dropped the hand he’d placed over his face and jutted his chin in that stubborn way of his. “As a sheriff, he’s duty-bound to follow the law. We’re still minors. He’d be forced to reunite us with Carl.”
“He’s not our father,” Lillian piped up.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s our legal guardian.”
Knowing where the argument was headed, Nicole stood and sighed. “I have to get home.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow?” Lillian pushed to her feet, her countenance resigned.
“Of course.” Pausing with her hand on the door latch, she looked at Patrick. “Please think on what I said.”
“It’s no use, Nicole. Your way will lead to trouble. If Carl finds us, he will finish the job he started. I won’t be able to protect Lillian. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?”
Soundlessly letting herself out, Nicole sagged against the door and closed her eyes. Without her, there would be no one to help them. No one to keep their secret. As long as Patrick and Lillian needed her, she was stuck in Gatlinburg.
