Family Stories. Tessa McDermid

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      He knew then what he had to say. He might be the fool but he couldn’t walk away from her. No matter where he wandered, he would crave her lips, her body, her very presence. Until he extinguished the fire she’d ignited in him, he would feel no relief.

      He caught her hands. “Marian, I’m sorry, ” he said quickly. “Not for what happened earlier, ” he added when she twisted to get out of his hold. “For being such an insensitive clod.”

      She stopped struggling, watching him closely. “What do you mean?”

      He kissed the tip of her nose. “The last three days have been hell for me, too.”

      One corner of her mouth lifted and the dimple played in her cheek. “I didn’t say that. Father would wash my mouth out if I used language like that.”

      “Then I’d kiss away the bad taste, ” he murmured, showing her how thoroughly he would do that.

      When he raised his head, the color in her cheeks signaled a return to the passion they’d shared earlier, and his resolve to wait for a more romantic place warred with his rapidly growing desire. His resolve won by a tiny fraction.

      He touched his forehead to hers. Eyes half-closed, she smiled at him, a slow, languorous smile that threatened the uneasy peace he had gained. “Don’t, ” he groaned.

      Her lips drooped into a frown. “What?”

      He trailed one finger down her cheek, wrapping a curl around it. “Miss Cooper, you are enough to try the patience of a saint.”

      “But you aren’t a saint, ” she said with a saucy grin.

      He tugged on the curl. “No, and you should remember that.”

      Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck. “I do, ” she said in a husky voice.

      “Marian, stop it!” He tugged at her wrists, holding her firmly away. “We need to go back to the house. Now.”

      “But, Frank…”

      “No, Marian.” He headed in the direction of the house, her hand tucked inside the crook of his arm, warm against his body. “I won’t be chased out of town by an angry father. And if we don’t return soon, that’s exactly what will happen.”

      In the shadow of a large oak tree, he paused to check their appearance. With an objective eye, he straightened the collar of her dress, smoothed her wild curls behind her ears. He brushed his fingers lightly over her cheeks, wiping away a last tear. She shifted her head and planted a soft kiss on his palm.

      His hand seemed to burn at the contact. “Marian, you can’t do this.”

      She nodded. “Once we’re home, I’ll behave like the decorous young woman my parents expect me to be.” She turned to him with shining eyes. “But I could sneak into your room tonight—”

      He groaned and seized her hand, almost running down the road with her. “Not another word, Marian. I’ll find myself locked up in jail for trifling with you—or worse, tarred and feathered and run out of town on a rail.” He drew her back onto the road.

      She giggled. “They haven’t tarred and feathered anyone since some salesman came into town last spring, trying to sell us all some worthless tonic. Not sure why, though. His tonic made the women want to rip off their clothes—”

      “I’m warning you, Marian.”

      “Oh, I’m sorry.”

      A quick glance at her showed that she wasn’t the least bit sorry. He struggled against a strong urge to spin her around in the road and kiss her until her teasing expression was again replaced with one of desire. The house loomed before them and he rejected the image of her warm in his arms, releasing her hand and slowing to a more sedate pace as they came in view of the windows.

      “You will stay, won’t you?” she asked, a foot poised above the bottom step of the back porch.

      “I’ll stay, ” he promised.

      He followed her up the steps, admiring how her skirt clung to the rounded curves of her bottom and the gentle sway of the material as she walked down the hallway. Her parents still sat in the parlor, their positions unchanged.

      “Did you enjoy your walk?” her father asked, looking at them over the top of his Bible.

      “Yes, Father, we did.” Marian sat down with a soft rustle of skirts and picked up a sewing box next to the couch.

      “So, what’s your opinion of our fair village?”

      Frank sat down opposite Marian before replying. “I didn’t see much of it, sir, but the weather’s very fine.”

      “You’ll discover that this is a most delightful place, ” Reverend Cooper said. He rested his large Bible on his lap and rubbed his chin. “I was thinking, Frank, that after we see Bates in the morning, we could go by Widow Bartlett’s house.”

      “Widow Bartlett?” Did the reverend want to find him a wife as well as a job?

      “She mentioned that she hopes to take in a few boarders. You seem like a respectable young man. I’m sure the two of you can work out a sensible agreement.”

      From the color that rose in Marian’s cheeks, Frank deduced that the widow Bartlett was a young woman. He lifted one eyebrow in question and when Marian glared at him, he had his answer. This town was filled with pitfalls.

      And the most dangerous was sitting right across from him.

      He excused himself, saying he needed to fetch his bag before supper. When Marian gave him a worried look, he smiled and watched her settle back on the sofa.

      Once he’d retrieved his bag from the barn, he considered striding into the night and putting the Cooper family behind him. Even if Marian did cry herself to sleep for a few nights, she would forget him soon enough.

      As he hesitated at the edge of the village, the scent of a rose floated toward him and he felt again her arms around his neck, her soft lips pressing against his. With a moan that startled several birds in the tree above him, he turned toward town and the Coopers’ house.

      Supper was a quiet meal, cold leftovers from lunch served by a silent Mrs. Cooper and a still-glowering Marian. Reverend Cooper kept up a monologue based on his readings of the afternoon. He obviously didn’t expect anyone to respond to his observations. Frank found his mind drifting, returning to the conversation with a jerk when Reverend Cooper asked him a pointed question about his family.

      “Two sisters, sir, one older, one younger.” Frank sipped from his glass, waiting for the next comment.

      “Sisters. I have a younger sister and four younger brothers.” Reverend Cooper shook his head with a reminiscent smile. “She never let us intimidate her, though. Like my Marian here.” He touched a loose curl on Marian’s shoulder, his expression filled with pride.

      Frank held back a shudder. This man loved his daughter but more than that, she was a prized possession, if that proprietary look was anything to judge by. The СКАЧАТЬ