From Boss to Bridegroom (16 page)

“Fine.”

She preceded him out the door and onto the wide porch. The heat hit them like a wave, and Quinn immediately removed his coat jacket and looped it over the railing. Nicole removed a fan from her reticule and lazily fanned herself.

They strolled along stone pathways beside lush flower beds lined with meticulously pruned bushes. Bright yellow golden asters mixed with delicate purple Southern harebells and Turk's Cap lilies. Azaleas in varying shades formed the outer row.

“I owe you an apology.” He stopped to face her. “It wasn't my intention to put you in a tight spot.”

“I should've told them.” Perching on a stone bench, fan discarded on her lap, she observed a pair of butterflies. “I'm worried what will happen to them, Quinn. Their stepfather strikes me as a determined, ruthless man.”

Unable to resist comforting her, he sat and took her hand in his. “I care about their well-being, too, and you have my word I'll do whatever necessary to protect them.”

“You're a kind man.”

He laughed outright. “You don't have to act so surprised.”

“Well, I couldn't fathom making such an observation the first night we met.”

Their intertwined hands resting on the cool, gritty stone between them, his chuckles rumbled in his chest.

“Seriously, Quinn, you've been a huge help in this situation. It means a lot to them. And to me.”

Suddenly her soft-as-velvet lips were grazing his cheek, shocking him into silence.

He could so easily turn this into a real kiss. All he had to do was twist his head to the right a few inches. They were alone in this romantic, orderly maze of flowers and trees, shielded from the house. No one would see them.

Quinn squeezed his eyes tight, battling this yearning for her that, should he give in to it, would confuse their friendship.

He dropped her hand and shot to his feet.

“We should rejoin the others.”

“It appears I'm not the only one who finds it difficult to accept compliments.”

Nicole brushed past him. Flouncing down the pathway, her hem swiped at the fragile stems edging it. Quinn sighed. She was irritated with him again. Or had his reaction to her unexpected overture embarrassed her?

Either emotion was better than hurt feelings.

At least he could face her at work Monday morning with a clear conscience. She didn't have to know his heart was a little bruised.

Chapter Seventeen

“I
t was kind of Quinn to give you the day off. Saturdays must be the busiest shopping day of all.”

Lounging on the quilt beside her mother and making a clover chain, Nicole observed the twins wading calf-deep in the river.

“He can be nice when he puts his mind to it.”

He'd delayed opening in order to help with Patrick and Lillian's move. After their walk in the flower gardens, he'd told her to take the rest of the day off. She hadn't argued. Not after her silly kiss and his abrupt reaction.

She needed space from him and all the turmoil he was stirring to life inside her.

“I wish you would've felt comfortable confiding in me. I would've helped you, you know. And those poor kids.”

At the underlying hurt in her mother's voice, Nicole shifted her gaze. Butter-yellow sunshine highlighted the age spots on her cheeks and glinted off her spectacles.

“I'm sorry. It's just that...if I'd told you, I would've been breaking my promise.”

Her mother cupped her cheek. “I love you, sweet daughter. I wish your father could see you now. He'd be incredibly proud.”

Nicole blinked against an onslaught of emotion. Her mother wasn't normally a demonstrative person. And she rarely spoke of her deceased husband.

“You think so?”

“You're a lot like him, you know. Quiet. Private. He wasn't one to share his thoughts.”

Bittersweet pleasure spread through her chest, and she dashed away rogue tears. She
hated
crying in front of others, no matter who it was.

Nicole had been small when he'd died suddenly of heart failure. As her mother's observations sank in, she couldn't help but wonder if things might've been different had he lived.

“Will you tell me more about him?”

Her smile wistful and full of sadness, Alice shared tidbits and stories Nicole couldn't recall hearing. All too soon, Jessica and Jane interrupted, laughing and dripping on the quilt, bits of grass dirtying their feet.

Eager for time alone to process the revelations about her father, Nicole decided to stay behind and soak up another hour of sunshine.

“Don't linger too long,” Alice advised, hefting the basket containing their leftover food. “It's nearing four o'clock, and we'll be having supper in a couple of hours.”

“All right, Mama.”

Alice and the twins left, but she was hardly alone. Other families were enjoying this mid-July Saturday, blankets spread out in the rolling, clover-dotted fields and fishing or swimming in the river. Untying her bonnet, she lay back and tilted it so that her face was shielded from the light. The scent of grass and baked earth filled her nostrils. The longer she lay there, the more the tension she'd been carrying around these past months melted away.

Patrick and Lillian's well-being wasn't solely her responsibility anymore. Shane, Quinn, Lucian and Megan were all willing and able to do their part. She hadn't realized until this moment what a toll their predicament, and her part in caring for them, had taken.

If not for her confusing feelings for Quinn, she could be almost content.

She drifted to sleep replaying their earlier conversation and the feel of his smooth, firm jaw beneath her sensitive lips.

Masculine laughter startled her awake.

Struggling to clear the fog from her mind, she blinked, frowned at the unfamiliar plaid shirt filling her vision. Where was she? The hard ground beneath her clued her in. She'd fallen asleep, but for how long?

A sharp yank on her hair had her gasping.

“Hurry up.”

Timothy? What was he—

The glint of a knife blade flashed near her nose, and fear cascaded into her bloodstream. She shoved at the broad chest hovering over her. “Get off me!”

The chest didn't budge. “Hold her down. And make sure she doesn't scream.”

That was Kenneth's voice. Was Pete with them? Where was everyone? Why wasn't anyone helping her?

“Hel—”

A rough, sweat-dampened hand smashed her lips together, stifling her plea. Kenneth's face appeared above her. His callous sneer filled her throat with bile. Someone pulled on her hair again until her eyes smarted with the pain.

When large hands clapped onto her legs to still her squirming, Nicole knew true terror. Obviously she'd slept longer than she'd realized and the other folks had already left. Otherwise, someone would've intervened.

She was alone with a man whose wounded pride had obliterated common decency and his cohorts, who didn't think to question him. Up until this moment, she hadn't believed them capable of violence.

Please, God.
Thoughts failed her. Passing seconds stretched into an eternity as the men's raucous laughter assaulted her ears.

Kenneth was making a sawing motion with the knife. She braced herself for pain that didn't come.

Suddenly, he leaped off her, a victory whoop filling the air. He was waving something above his head. Her legs were abruptly released. The hand imprisoning her mouth fell away.

Heart shuddering like a frightened rabbit beneath her rib cage, she couldn't seem to force her muscles to move. She lay there on the quilt, frozen. Confused. Dread coated her mouth.

“I cut off the witch's hair,” Kenneth chortled. Beside him, Pete and Timothy laughed so hard they bent over, hands on their bellies.

Arms like jelly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Kenneth noticed. Lunged at her.

“You always did think you were better than everyone else, you little witch,” he spit, tossing the black thing on her lap.

She yelped, batted at the thing until she recognized the ribbon attached. The ribbon she'd tied her hair back with that morning.

“My hair!” Hands flying up, she whimpered when she encountered the short, uneven ends. “What have you done?”

Kenneth roughly seized her jaw in his hand, bringing his face near. “You're lucky we didn't scalp you,” he growled. “If you breathe our names to another soul, you won't be so lucky next time.”

Pete grabbed his arm. “Let's go.”

They left her then.

Sick to her stomach, tears streaming down her cheeks, Nicole curled in on herself, comforted by one fact—soon she would leave this town, and she was never coming back.

* * *

Emerging onto the boardwalk, Quinn locked the front door with a weary but satisfied sigh. The afternoon had passed in a blur. Without Nicole there to help, the customers had had no option but to deal with him. For the most part, they'd been patient and civil. Perhaps the news of his land purchase had already traveled the town's grapevine and they'd accepted he wasn't going anywhere.

Offering up a silent prayer of gratitude, he set his feet toward Plum's, mouth watering at the thought of Mrs. Greene's yeast rolls slick with melted butter. He was ravenous.

Traversing the dusty street, a bark of laughter from the vicinity of the post office caught his attention. Kenneth and his buddies stood in a circle of about half-a-dozen young men, talking and gesturing wildly. Whatever they were saying evoked a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement.

Appetite forgotten, Quinn had the overwhelming urge to see Nicole.

Pivoting sharply, he dodged a horse and rider and strode in the opposite direction, regretting his decision to delay purchasing a horse of his own. He was out of breath by the time he reached her cabin.

It's probably nothing. Better prepare a sound reason for your unannounced visit,
he told himself
.

Alice opened the door, and the smell of roasted beef and fried onions hit him, reawakening his hunger. Maybe he could finagle a dinner invitation out of this. Enjoying a meal with his assistant and her family was preferable to a meal alone in the café.

“Mrs. O'Malley.” He tipped his head in greeting. “I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but would it be possible to speak with Nicole?”

Behind the spectacles, her eyes crinkled with concern and she eyed the whitewashed sky beyond his shoulder. “She hasn't yet returned from our picnic. I was expecting her an hour ago.”

Lassoing his imagination, he forced a calm he didn't feel. “If you point me in the right direction, I'll go and check on her.”

“Oh, would you? I was going to send one of the girls once we'd finished in the kitchen.”

“Can I borrow one of your horses?”

“Certainly. And once you've brought her home, I'd love for you to have supper with us.”

“Thank you.”

But satiating his hunger no longer dominated his thoughts. All he could think about was her tormentors, gleefully gloating on the boardwalk.

After fifteen minutes of slow progress through the woodland trail, he reached the clearing. With the faint sound of trickling water riding the gentle breeze, he scanned the verdant landscape. The green fields stood empty. Portions of the riverbank were dotted with willow trees. Drawing closer to investigate, he spotted a hunched, black-clad figure seated at the water's edge.

He breathed a sigh of relief.
See? All that worrying for nothing. She's fine.

Dismounting, he led his borrowed mount through the high grass, calling out to her when he drew near. She didn't respond, however, and the bonnet's brim hid her face.

“Nicole?” He stopped directly beside her, unease slithering through him. Surely she wasn't still irritated with him?

He dropped onto the grass, and she shifted slightly away from him.

“What's the matter? Are you upset with me?”

He'd never known her to completely ignore him. Annoyance sharpened his voice.

“Your mother is worried about you.”

A small sniffle caught him off guard. She was crying.

Sad...not angry. Trying to hide her tears from him.

“Hey.” He settled a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked as if prodded with a branding iron. “Okay, you're starting to scare me,” he exclaimed. “Why won't you speak to me?”

Gently taking her chin, he urged her head around and received a shock. Her face was ravaged with tears, skin red and splotchy, lips trembling, violet eyes awash in misery.

His heart stopped. “What happened?”

Throat working, Nicole untied her bonnet ribbons with trembling fingers. Then she slowly lifted it from her unbound curls. Curls that had been shorn off to about an inch below her ears.

Without thinking, Quinn reached out and fingered a lock of hair. This hadn't been done using scissors, but with a blunt instrument.

“Kenneth was here.” A shudder racked her shoulders. “I fell asleep, and when I woke up he and his friends were holding me down. For a minute, I—I thought they were going to—” She pressed her lips tightly together as more tears seeped out.

Rage, searing and white-hot, seeped into his gut as he pictured the ugly scene.

“Tell me exactly what they did,” he managed, fingers shaky as they trailed her cheek.

The account came tumbling out, her terror at finding herself at their mercy tormenting him. He would make sure they paid for their crime. He may not be the law in this town, but he had a different sort of power at his disposal.

Justice was going to have to wait, though. Right now, Nicole needed comforting. And Quinn desperately needed to be the one to give it to her.

With effort, he bottled the burning drive for retribution and worked to gentle his words and touch.

He fished out his handkerchief and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Her luminous gaze clung to his as he worked, her hitched breaths settling into a more natural rhythm, the trusting nature of her regard nearly felling him. Her trust didn't come easily. That he'd somehow won it humbled him.

When he'd dried her tears, he gingerly fluffed her shiny locks. He gave in to the temptation to explore the silky texture. She watched him with wide, barely blinking eyes.

“This length suits you, you know,” he murmured. “It draws attention to your eyes, not to mention the elegant line of your jaw.”

A line appeared between her brows. “You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I have always been honest with you, Duchess. And right now, I can honestly say you take my breath away.”

She sucked in air, pink lips parting. “Quinn.”

Fingers grazing her cool cheek, he leaned in close and brushed his lips against hers in a light, barely there kiss. Her warm breath mingled with his. A bruising, sweet ache built in his chest. Instead of deepening the kiss as he yearned to do, he wrapped his arms about her, tucking her head beneath his chin, holding her as he'd done in the springhouse. Warming her. Cradling her. Protecting her from his own foolish wishes.

This woman had plans. Plans that had nothing to do with marriage and family. Plans for a new life far from Gatlinburg. And him.

They remained locked in each other's arms until pink streaked the sky and lightning bugs blinked on and off on the opposite side of the river.

She pulled away first. Grabbing her bonnet, she said, “I shouldn't put off going home any longer.”

Quinn hurried to his feet, dusting off his pants before extending a hand to her. “I'll take you home, seeing as I have your horse in my possession.”

Avoiding his gaze, she nodded, springy ringlets caressing her jaw. He hadn't lied. While short hair wasn't the fashion, it did suit her.

They rode together in silence. Quinn took guilty pleasure in holding her close, his arms looped about her waist as she rested against his chest.

Inside her barn, she repeated her mother's invitation to supper. He declined.

She laid a hand on his arm to forestall his departure. “Don't try and avenge me, Quinn. It'll grow back.”

“It goes against my upbringing to allow this type of behavior to go unchecked. They are a danger to you, Nicole. Next time might not be so innocent.”

The fury was boiling up again.

“Before you act, think of the store and the possible consequences.”