Rescuing Mr. Gracey (21 page)

Mary’s smile broadened. For the first time in a very long time, her family did not worry about being cast from their home—or worse, starvation. Instead, the Smyth family planned a future, thanks to the healthy crop growing and an old combing machine Alec donated. Now they could produce their own linen products, bleaching, combing, weaving the product and keeping all the profit made.

“Life has much improved, has it not, Mam?” Picking up a piece of square linen, Mary ran her fingers over the initials,
AJ
, embroidered last night. She planned a few fancy scrolls around the edge before presenting the gift to Alec in the hope he would exchange this new kerchief for the embarrassing ragged cloth he had taken almost a month ago. “I thank the Lord for our blessings,” she added quietly.

“Don’t talk too loud, Mary.” Her mother had lowered her voice as if someone might be listening. “The invaders may hear we’re having a better time of it and do something to wreck it.”

Mary laughed as she placed a bar of rose-scented soap into the cart. A few days after the incident at the lake, Alec had presented her with an entire box of soap, sheepishly claiming the container had magically jumped into his hands when he passed by a store.
“Please accept it, Miss Smyth, for I dearly love the scent upon your hair…”

He also requested she not bathe alone anymore, but seeing her struggle with the suggestion, he surprised her on the following day. Arriving mid-morning, he asked if he might escort her to the lake. From that time forward, he showed up when the sun shone brilliantly and then took her to the lake. Standing guard like a stunning knight, he turned his back while he told fantastical and humorous stories to distract her from worry about invasive drunks or the earl’s guard. He always offered to assist with laundry afterward.

She loved watching him do the chore. The sun glowing about his tall frame, he seemed a glorious angel too striking to be real, his breeches pulled to the knee, stripped of his boots, and sleeves rolled above his elbows. She memorized the way the corners of his bright blue eyes crinkled teasingly and how his hair was always tousled boyishly and the way his mouth pulled easily into a grin.

Inevitably, he would splash her, bringing her back to her senses, then deny it with a remarkable innocence.

Inside Alec’s presence, Mary lacked for nothing…

Her smile faded. Except intimacy. Sadly, after the evening when the cat interrupted their embrace, Alec had not touched her again with more than his eyes. But, oh, how his eyes devoured her. The intensity of his gazes pierced her, communicated, beckoned.

Yes. His eyes touched, embraced, so possessively, she felt kissed.

Just yesterday, daring him to give her more, Mary boldly returned his gaze. However, the effort proved less than satisfying when he grew angry, slamming his fist against his thigh, mumbling something beneath his breath.

She wondered if perhaps his physical avoidance pertained to the “secret” alluded to weeks ago. Mary grimaced, remembering how terrible, invasive suspicions had haunted her the rest of the day. Perhaps he loved another. Maybe he was already engaged or had an understanding about his future. And, most worrisome, why did he avoid sharing all personal information about his family or even information about his personal goals? She did not even know what employment he had undertaken, but only knew he was not available on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, and sometimes even Monday.

Biting her lip, she shook her head.
Alec would not deceive me or another woman like that.

The rap at the door startled her from her thoughts.
He’s here.
Butterflies collided all through her insides, sending her heart into a wild, tapping dance. Fumbling with the latch on the door, she knew that, on the other side of the wooden barrier, Alec waited, hat in hand, a boyish, one-sided grin teasing her.

She flung wide the door, excitement spreading with her smile.

The world tilted; her hand clenched.
Sean Dennison. On a weekday?
He never deviated from his daily routine—his farm demanded too much time.

Yet here he was, bowed in greeting. “Good morn, Miss Mary. Good morn, Mrs. Smyth.”

Mary stared, mouth open, dumbfounded.

“Why, Sean, ’tis surprising to see you,” Mary’s mother commented.

Sean shuffled, then stuffed his clean hands into what appeared to be freshly laundered trousers. “I knew Miss Mary no longer needs be at the fields, and so I’ve come to offer an escort to the lake.”

Maureen’s brows rose, but recovering, she excused herself. Mary licked her lips and stepped outside the hut.

Panic gnawed her stomach. “So, how did you hear that I planned to go to the lake?”
Did Alec arrange the escort?

“I ran into your brother at the pub last evening, and he mentioned how ya likes ta go to the lake when the sun shines. I rushed about this morn and managed to get me chores done to escort ya. Sure and I’ve no’ much time to waste, though, so are ya ready?”

A frustrated sigh escaped her. Sean’s presence wrecked her lovely mood. She wanted to be with Alec. Sean lifted an impatient brow.

I’m going to kill you, Patrick Smyth.
“Well then,” she said. Sean’s attention was as unwanted as dandelions growing in a rose garden. She had no desire to go to the lake now. Twisting her lips, she lifted disappointed eyes down the road to Castlewellan before refreshing her smile.

Sean had rearranged his entire schedule for her, washed his hands, even changed his clothes. She needed to at least be gracious and accept his invitation. “I…I would be pleased to have your escort to the lake, but a man as busy as yourself may be a bit bored watching me wash clothes.”

“I’ve finished all that needs to be done until ya finish yar laundry.”

Mary clamped her jaw. “How very kind,” she said, casting one more longing look down the empty road.

“Are ya ready, then?” Sean tossed his head toward the forest.

“I need to load my cart.” Flitting agitated hands into her pockets, then out again, Mary stifled a growl as she heaved the cart forward, then loaded it with the dirty clothes while Sean watched. How Alec had spoiled her… This man did not lift one finger to help her.

They began the walk in silence, her pushing the heavy cart. “Did you notice the flax sprouting?” Mary attempted. “Mr. Jordan says the crop is healthy. He’s teaching us about linen weaving too.”

Sean made a low rumbling noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

“Do you remember Mr. Jordan?” Mary asked.

“I hear ye’ve been seein’ him a wee bit,” he snapped.

“Oh. Did you hear that from Patrick?”

“Aye and another.”

“Another?”

“Never ya mind. But ya should know the fella knew many disturbin’ things about Mr. Jordan’s activities with ya. He ain’t no gentleman. He should no’ be escortin’ ya.”

Prickly heat suffused her neck. “Mr. Jordan’s been kind to all of us.”

Sean’s cheeks flashed a hot red. “I hope he’s no’ been
too
kind to ya, Miss Mary.”

What is he implying?
Her stomach rolled. “What are you saying, Sean Dennison?”

He snorted. “We’ve been acquainted a long while, so I’ll not be puttin’ flowers into me words.” His freckled nose buckled as he scowled. “I canno’ believe your parents ignore da danger. Lettin’ ya go to da lake with a stranger.” Sean slammed a fist against his leg. “And da fancy man takes ya out at night…in da dark…to Castlewellan. ’Tis no’ proper, and now da village has noticed.”

Mary’s mouth, dry as the dusty road, refused to let her swallow. “Would you prefer I walk the streets alone? He escorts me for my safety, Mr. Dennison. Nothing more.” Frightened shivers bumped down her arm.

Fury darkened Sean’s glare. “He’s playin’ with ya, Miss Mary.”

Panic wobbled her voice into a childlike whine. “’Tis no’ like ya, Sean, ta accuse an innocent man.” Trembling overtook her hands. “You’re lettin’ gossips turn an innocent kindness into somethin’ dirty.”

A deep voice called from behind. “Miss Smyth, delay a moment.”

Mary cringed. Sean’s lips tightened. “I’ve no’ wish ta have him sharin’ in this discussion. I’ll be needin’ a private moment without the likes of him.”

Mary’s heart thundered, sure the personalities of these two men would clash violently. Something swirled around her when she thought of Sean’s accusations—too terrible, too threatening, too devastating. She turned to face Alec.

His smile dissolved. “What distresses you?” Narrowed, accusing eyes darted to Sean.

“’Tis none of yar business, sir. ’Tis a discussion ’tween me and Miss Mary.”

Stiffening, Alec leaned his intimidating height toward Sean as a protective hand claimed Mary’s elbow. “I’m making it my business, sir. I demand you cease.”

“Who are ya to demand anythin’?” he said, glowering. “I’ll have ya know that Miss Mary and I are very close friends.” His gaze flew to Mary, then back to Alec. “
Very close
,
if ya get me meanin’.”

Alec’s hand tightened on her elbow. “As are we.”

Sean raised his fist into a boxing posture. Alec insulted him with a short laugh.

“Stop!” Squeezed between two heated males, Mary pushed at both chests. “Please. The both of ya, stop,” she huffed. Frantic, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mr. Jordan, I need to speak with Mr. Dennison. Please excuse us.”

Mr. Jordan reeled as if struck. “You want me to leave?”

The lump in her throat grew larger. She swallowed. “Aye. ’Tis a private matter.”

Dark brows drew into a tight line. “One that obviously upsets you.” For the first time, he noticed the cart full of laundry. “You’re going to the lake…with him?” he asked, incredulous.

“The lady said t’ be gone. We’ve private matters.”

Alec coiled, ready to strike. “Those matters are hurting her,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Yar the one damagin’ her, sir. What ye’ve been doin’ near every day.” Sean’s tight, wounded voice wobbled unsteadily. “Don’ ya know what happens to a girl who oft wanders down to a secluded lake with a stranger?”

Alec stumbled back. Mary gasped. Trembling hands covered her mouth while Sean’s devastating rant continued. “Don’ ya know what all the town is tinkin’ ’bout Miss Mary?”

She turned toward Alec and watched fluid emotions—shock, disgust, fear—scar his handsome face. His eyes closed.

“Ye, with all the fancy clothes and fancy manners. Ye’d never treat a lady in your own circle like ya treat Miss Mary. Ye’ve ruined her.”

Unable to bear the weight of the slander and the pain her actions had given both men, Mary buried her face in her hands. “Please stop, please,” she squeaked.

Why had she not worried about unescorted journeys in the dark? How was it that no one saw the threat—her parents, her brother, herself? She knew the answer immediately. Mr. Jordan had become a trusted friend. Always a gentleman, protective. No one saw danger to her reputation.

Sean grasped her shoulders and whirled her to face him. “I know ’tis no’ true what they’re sayin’,” he pleaded. “But ya must know, a man like dat, he’s only here to take what little ya have before movin’ on, Mary.”

“Your filthy mouth offends beyond endurance.” Rage tightened Alec’s face as he spoke between clenched teeth. “I suggest you keep it closed lest I do it for you.”

Sean ignored the threat. “All he cares ’bout is his fling for the summer…”

“She is no fling.” Alec shoved Sean so violently, the smaller man released a great grunt, then fell three steps backward.

Tears tumbling down her face, Mary placed a gentle hand upon Alec, pleading for him to withdraw. “I cannot bear it. Please,” she whispered.

Alec’s bright blue eyes glittered, then squeezed shut. “I had not thought… I…I…should have considered…”

“Mary! I’m wantin’ ta keep ya safe from the likes of him.” Clutching her, his desperate fingers tightened painfully. “I’m wantin’ ta marry ya.”

Mary swiveled her stunned gaze toward Alec, wordlessly begging for a rescue. Jaw pulsing rhythmically, he clasped his hands behind his back but refused to look at her. A dark and hopeless whirlpool swallowed her. Mary could not breathe.

And then Alec stunned her further. “You have just been proposed marriage. Obviously, I must beg your leave until this eve, at which time you may give me direction for the future.” Bowing, he reversed his direction and let long, swift strides carry him toward the forest.

He did not even try to fight for you.
The pedestal upon which he stood—sparkling, shimmering, heroic—shattered, leaving dangerous and disappointing shards.

Sean’s accusations and her unanswered questions amplified, screaming in her ears.
Alec never intended courtship. He was using you.

Violent shaking overtook her. The idyllic, beautiful dream—picnics at the lake, walks in the evening with the handsome, wealthy, and humorous gentleman, and swims in the lake—evaporated like the elusive mists of the forest into which he disappeared.

Yet…

Her traitorous heart rebelled, hoping, searching for some way to defend him. “Sean. I am most distressed. Mr. Jordan is a dear acquaintance of the entire family. and, I assure you, a perfect gentleman.” She stretched a wobbly, pleading hand toward her friend. “Please, Sean. You must stop these rumors.”