What almost happened back there?
Thick grass snagging on her hem as they neared her family’s picnic spot, Nicole felt strangely let down, which in turn left her cranky and resentful. Inviting Quinn to join her had been a dumb idea. He took pleasure in pushing her out of her realm of comfort, teasing her all the while, prodding at her defenses until she was open and exposed and then...nothing.
She was a game to him. A shiny, new toy to explore and then discard.
Why am I letting him get to me, anyway? I’m not interested in romance.
Beneath all this pulsed an undercurrent of guilt. Here she was, freely attending a holiday celebration, while Patrick and Lillian were stuck in their meager shack, trapped there until the sun went down. Lillian would take such delight in the music. And Patrick would relish the food. He, especially, needed encouragement. Friends his own age.
This isn’t fair, God. I hate what they’re having to endure.
When they reached the soaring, wide-limbed sugar maple where her sisters and cousins and extended family members had gathered, Nathan’s wife, Sophie, took one look at Nicole and gaped. She elbowed Nathan, who was seated beside her. As a speculative smile creased his face, Nicole fiddled with her earbobs. Was her appearance causing this reaction? Her hair was a mess and she was perspiring. In public.
Or was it Quinn’s presence beside her?
Hopping up, Sophie made eye contact with Rebecca, who was relaxing against Caleb’s shoulder, and Megan.
Sophie reached her first. “Can I talk to you?”
“Um, I guess so.”
“If you’re ready for lunch, there’s a spot beside the twins.” Sophie flashed a smile at Quinn. “I won’t keep her long, I promise.”
Linking arms, the shorter girl led Nicole a short distance away, using a cluster of dogwood trees to block them from view.
Nicole spoke first, attempting to head off the coming inquisition. “That’s a new dress. Did you make it?”
Skimming her palms over the paisley skirts, Sophie blushed prettily. “I’ve been practicing what you taught me. Does it look all right?”
Nicole circled her, tugging here and there to test the stitches, satisfied with the way the cotton draped her form. Before Sophie married Nathan, she’d been a tomboy, content in men’s clothing and her honey-blond hair in a haphazard braid. Nicole had gladly aided in her transformation to stylish young lady.
“Your skills have improved. It’s beautiful. Your hair looks nice, too.”
Sophie beamed, fingers skittering over the sophisticated twist. “Nathan doesn’t mind whether I wear it up or down.” A dimple flashed. “Actually, that’s not true. He prefers it hanging loose so he can run his fingers through it.”
Nicole squelched the burst of envy. She absolutely was not jealous. “That would hardly be appropriate for an event such as this.”
Megan and Rebecca rounded the dogwoods, and Nicole found herself the center of attention. “What?”
Megan seemed to be bursting with curiosity. “You came with Quinn.”
“So?”
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “What’s not to like? He’s handsome, a true gentleman and the way he looks at you...”
“He’s my boss,” Nicole muttered, instinctively clamming up. “I only asked him because he hasn’t made many friends here.”
Rebecca gasped, jade-colored eyes going wide. “You asked him?”
“I can’t recall a time you ever gave a man the time of day.” Megan’s white-blond curls shone in the bright sunshine, her porcelain skin enhanced by the aquamarine hue of her formfitting dress. “Come on, sis. Tell us the truth. You fancy him, don’t you?”
Nicole could feel the emotion leaching from her face, could feel the ingrained response kicking in. Stay cool and deny everything, her mind was insisting.
Her and Quinn’s conversation that night in the springhouse came back to her. He’d been adamant in his opinion that others would like to get close to her. Sophie, Megan and Rebecca were family. How many times had they reached out to her, only to be rebuffed? It’s my fault I feel left out, isn’t it, God? Not theirs.
Please help. Sharing my innermost thoughts doesn’t come naturally. Of course, I don’t have to tell You that.
“To be honest...” She pushed the words past her dry throat, clasping her hands tightly at her waist. “I can’t explain how I feel about Quinn.”
The three females surrounding her exchanged glances.
“Try,” Megan insisted.
“He is good-looking.” At Sophie’s nod, Nicole held up a finger. “But he knows it. He’s bossy. Smug.” She recalled how he’d defended her against Kenneth and his buddies. “He’s also protective. Brave. He values honesty. Family.”
Rebecca smoothed her rich, copper-streaked brown hair away from her brow. “That’s a good start. How does he make you feel?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Angry. Frustrated—” she ticked off her fingers “—confused.”
“Confused?”
“When he puts his arms around me, I kind of melt into him and I feel safe and warm and yet—” She broke off, not about to admit this unnameable longing he evoked in her.
“Wait. He put his arms around you?” Megan’s brows shot to her hairline. “Did he kiss you?”
Oops. She wasn’t supposed to mention the springhouse.
“Ew. No, my boss did not kiss me.” Although, hadn’t that been on both their minds mere minutes ago? His perfect, slightly arrogant mouth had hovered inches from hers, brown eyes glittering. Her palms went damp.
“Why was he holding you?” Rebecca said.
“I—I was cold. Look, I’m starving. I didn’t eat breakfast.”
Her sister stopped her exit with a gentle, staying hand. A trembling smile lit up her face. “It means a lot that you shared what’s in your heart, sis.”
Nicole found herself returning the smile. “It wasn’t as horrid as I thought it’d be.”
Megan hugged her. “Don’t worry, we won’t repeat a word.”
* * *
Thankfully Quinn didn’t ask about their conversation. Nor did he try to goad her into taking part in any more contests. They passed the remainder of the afternoon in the company of her family, her uncle and cousins engaging him in a variety of topics.
It was midafternoon when they began to pack up their things. Nicole assumed she’d accompany her mother and sisters home while Quinn returned to his quarters in the mercantile, but he insisted on walking with her.
“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. It’s my duty to see you home.”
“It that a Boston rule?”
“It’s a Darling rule.” He waited patiently for her to take his arm, challenge lurking in his eyes.
The afternoon had been a trying one on many levels. She yearned to be alone with her thoughts, needle and thread in hand and a creation taking shape beneath her stitches. But he was adamant.
Sighing, she took it, keenly aware of the hard muscle beneath her fingertips and the occasional brush of their shoulders as they walked. Strolling along the darkened store fronts, she glanced surreptitiously at his profile.
Had Quinn ever been in love? He’d intimated people admired him solely for his wealth and status, but there was more to him than that. In addition to his good looks, he had a quick wit and dynamic personality. He could be kind and thoughtful when he put his mind to it.
Not that she’d ever tell him that.
“What’s brewing in that mysterious mind of yours?” Angling his head, he met her gaze head-on without missing a step.
“I’m wondering how you managed to escape the parson’s trap.”
“Ah. I thought you didn’t consider me suitable husband material.”
“I never said that, you know.”
“You didn’t have to,” he said, and chuckled softly.
Her heart skipped a beat, wondering what it would be like to be Quinn’s wife. His high-handed attitude would make her crazy within a week...and they’d argue in spectacular fashion...but she’d heard about makeup kisses. And she imagined Quinn was an expert in that area.
“In the eyes of Boston’s impressionable young socialites, I’m certain you were considered quite the catch.”
They crossed the wooden bridge suspended above the bustling river, their boots thudding against the worn slats. Something in his expression turned pensive, and she wondered at the cause.
“As a matter of fact, I came very close to binding myself to one particular young lady. I suppose I’m fortunate to have discovered her true motives before it was too late.”
The hurt in his voice troubled her, and she unconsciously squeezed his arm.
“I’m sorry, Quinn.”
“I was sorry for a long time, too.”
Nicole strove to comprehend this revelation. So much of the time, he projected a carefree attitude. To know that his heart was as capable of injury as the next person’s altered her view of him.
Against her better judgment, she gave in to the burning desire to question him. “What happened?”
He averted his face toward the lush forest on his side of the quiet lane, steps steady and slow and matched to hers.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”
“I had begun to suspect I was in love with Helene,” he started quietly.
Envy snaked its way around her throat, surprising in its intensity, threatening to choke off her air supply. It was wrong, so wrong to envy this unknown woman who’d ensnared Quinn’s affections. Good thing you don’t covet his admiration, she comforted herself. That would be unreasonable. And foolhardy.
“We had a lot in common. I assumed we could have a good life together.” His lips flattened. “Turns out I misjudged her. Helene wasn’t with me because she cared about me, about the man I am when the superficial is stripped away.”
“She was after your fortune?”
“And the prestige that comes from marrying into the Darling family,” he said matter-of-factly.
“So Helene wasn’t from an affluent family?”
His lip curled. “As a matter of fact, her father was a business associate of ours. Socially speaking, we were on equal footing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The thing is, Duchess, having money sometimes generates intense greed. People become obsessed with having more. Always more.”
They passed beneath a low-hanging branch, startling a pair of mourning doves. She tracked their upward flight.
He’d said he’d come here for a simpler, more meaningful life. Nicole finally understood what drove him.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, wishing he hadn’t had to endure such treatment.
Her heart fluttered at the appearance of his soft smile. “Don’t be. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have recognized what my life was missing. I certainly wouldn’t have wound up in this tiny mountain town.”
“Most of Gatlinburg’s marriage-minded young ladies come from humble homes. Aren’t you worried history will repeat itself? Even if you weren’t rich, the fact that you own the mercantile makes you a desirable candidate.”
His gaze probed hers for long, unsettling moments—surely the yearning sliding through the honeyed depths wasn’t directed at her—before shifting to the lane winding through the trees. His shrug offset his serious demeanor. “I’m trusting God to lead me to the right woman. That’s all I can do.”
Ignoring the pinpricks of discomfort his words inspired, she drawled, “Well, if the numerous longing looks cast your way today are anything to go by, you won’t lack for options.”
“I’m sure I don’t know to what you’re referring.”
At his mock innocence, she rolled her eyes. “You mean you didn’t see Harriet Nichols nearly tripping and falling face-first into her potato salad when she passed by you?”
“It would’ve been impossible not to.” He chuckled, shaking his head wryly.
They fell into a companionable silence, with Nicole mentally cataloguing every simpering whisper she’d intercepted while with Quinn. Not one unattached young lady hadn’t noted his presence. As soon as the locals figured out that he was all right for a Northerner, he’d be fielding supper invitations left and right.
When her lane came into view, she slipped her hand free and stepped away. Here in the pleasant shade, his hair was a richer hue of black, his skin a shade paler and an undergrowth of bristle visible along his jaws.
Why must she notice these things? And why did he have to be tantalizingly handsome?
“I can make it the rest of the way without incident.”
Slipping his hands in his pockets, he smiled, teeth flashing. “Thank you for today.”
“In spite of my high-handed escort, I had fun.” She smiled. “See you in the morning.”
She’d half turned to leave when his words stopped her. “Oh, I meant to ask you. I saw a box of cream drops in your kitchen earlier. Your mother and sisters didn’t have a clue who they were for.”
The burning intensity in his eyes belied his casual tone.
“Why do you care?”
“I noticed how you favor them.” He shrugged. “Just wondering who liked them so much.”
Lillian adored the dainty chocolates. Couldn’t get enough.
A panicky feeling skittered through her, white-hot anger on its heels. “You have no right to interrogate me about my purchases. You don’t treat your other customers this way. Don’t do it to me.”
This anger inflicted pain. She didn’t want to be angry at him, not after his revelation and the sense of connectedness it had given her.
Quinn’s cool fingers closed over her wrist. He bent close, concern warring with suspicion. “You’re overreacting, don’t you think? It was a simple question.”
Lifting her chin, she glared at him. “Not so simple. Once again, I get the feeling you’re accusing me of something underhanded.”
“I admit your behavior has led me to wonder if you’re hiding something. Are you?”
Ripping free of his grip, she gritted, “Goodbye, Quinn.”
He didn’t say a word as she stalked away. In fact, it was his utter silence that had her glancing over her shoulder at him. Spying him shoving up his sleeves and examining his arms, she stumbled to a halt.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Checking for scars.” A fierce scowl creased his features. “You, Nicole O’Malley, are the prickliest, most frustrating—” He rammed his fingers through his hair. “I had better stop before I say something I’ll later wish unsaid.” With a stiff, formal bow, he said, “Until tomorrow, Duchess.”
Shocked into silence, Nicole watched him stride away, despising the awful way he’d uttered the endearment and wishing—absurdly—that things could be different between them.