by Alyssa Drake
Chapter Eleven
“Thank you for accompanying me this morning.” Miss Randall smiled over at Thomas as she strolled along the main road, dirt and leaves crunching beneath her shoes. “To make this journey alone would have been terrifying. I fear Mr. Morris will leap out at me from behind every tree.”
“It is no trouble, I am happy to assist you.” Thomas nodded, mirroring her smile, his eyes scanning the road, searching through bushes and shadows for any hint of movement.
“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” She slid closer to him, trapping him between her body and the underbrush which lined the dirt road, her fingers grazing his hand.
“No, it’s quite early, I doubt anyone in the house is awake. I don’t think we will be missed for a few hours.” Her fingers touched his palm again; his hand twitched, pressing into his hip. The reaction surprised not only Miss Randall but himself. She regarded him oddly, clasping her hands demurely behind her back and taking one exaggerated step to her left.
“Robert seemed most distraught last night.” She stopped walking and bit her lip, lifting her violet gaze to Thomas. “I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”
“Benjamin and Edward saw to his return, I was otherwise occupied.” Truthfully, once Mr. Shirely had been cajoled into a docile manner, he was easily managed by his sister, who convinced him to leave with her. “For the safety of our family,” Miss Shirely had murmured the words in her brother’s ear, squeezing his arm. He nodded in agreement and rose from the veranda, stumbling over his own feet. Directing him to sit again, Mrs. Hastings retrieved some coffee, and Miss Shirely—perched next to her brother—poured the strong liquid down his throat. A woman’s faint scream reached them. Thomas’ eyes lifted to Edward, whose matching expression of horror confirmed he had heard the sound as well.
“I shall investigate.” Leaping off the veranda, Edward ran around the side of the house. Five minutes later, he reappeared on the opposite side of the veranda, huffing. “I didn’t find anyone. Perhaps it was a bird.”
It was not a bird. The voice Thomas heard was distinctly female… what happened to Miss Clemens, how had she managed to avoid Edward during his trek? Surely, he would have walked past her, unless she was the one who screamed!
Backing away slowly, Thomas had disappeared around the side of the house, racing to the gazebo. He could feel its emptiness before his shoes touched the wood. Still, he climbed the steps, checking the dimness for any sign of Miss Clemens. She had vanished. Where had she gone? He clumped down the steps, his eyes raising to the trellis. There was no physical possibility of her climbing up the trellis. He prayed she entered through the kitchens, refusing to entertain the idea that Morris had attacked her. Veering left, he headed toward the rear of the house, hoping to discover Miss Clemens. Instead, he found Mrs. Brown, who indicated the abandoned sketchbook on the corner of the table when she handed him a plate laden with dessert—Thomas’ favorite. She was safe. Snatching it up, he ascended the servant’s staircase, intending to knock on Miss Clemens’ door.
He owed her an explanation or an apology, perhaps both. Even though it was her request, he should have denied her, but her face… her expression was heartbreaking as if she expected him to refuse her… and since he was being honest, he very much wanted to kiss Miss Clemens. Now that he had, there needed to be a strict line drawn between them, an explicit definition of their platonic friendship because he had no intention of marriage, to any woman, even one as rare as Miss Clemens. However, as he stood in the hallway, his hand raised, images of Miss Clemens tumbled through his mind—her skin flushed pink, her soft body moving beneath him. Unless you want a wedding, you best clear those thoughts from your mind. A cold sensation washed over him, dousing the flames raging through her body. Placing the book in front of her door, he turned, chased away by his own fear.
He would explain his position of permanent bachelorhood to her during their lesson this morning… Their lesson! He scratched his head, thinking on their conversation. Had they determined a time to meet? No. He was distracted, thrown by Miss Clemens’ unexpected request. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. A horseback riding lesson meant another morning with his arms wrapped around Miss Clemens soft curves. To be certain, there were other ways of teaching. However, he quite enjoyed this way, and it was relatively harmless…
Redirecting his thoughts, his head spun toward Miss Randall; she offered him a dazzling smile. “How long do you expect our visit will be this morning?” he asked, forcing a casual tone into his question.
“An hour or so.” A little wrinkle appeared between her eyes. “Will that be alright? If you have something pressing, I will arrange for Robert to escort me back to Westwood Estate.”
“That will not be necessary.” Shaking his head, Thomas eyed the sun as it crested the hill. “My obligations can be postponed until later today.” Most ladies did not rise this early. He was shocked when Miss Larson roused him this morning, gently tapping on his door until he stumbled from his bed, his eyes blurry with sleep.
“My mistress has requested you escort her to the Shirelys’ estate. She is extremely worried for Mr. Shirely and is terrified to travel by herself.”
Thomas agreed because that was the proper response. Now, as they traveled down the road, Thomas wondered why Miss Randall would choose such an early time to call upon her family. They rounded the bend and turned down the main drive toward the Shirely house. Before they managed three steps, they were met by two men on horseback, each carrying a pistol, both aimed at Thomas’ chest.
“State your business,” one of them grunted.
Miss Randall stepped forward. “Mr. Reid and I are here to visit my cousin, Robert.”
“We have been given strict instructions not to allow any person onto the estate.” He gestured with his gun. “That includes you, Miss.”
“Miss Randall.” She stretched tall, planting her hands on her hips, “And I am the niece of Mr. Alexander Shirely.”
“Is she?” The other man’s pistol dipped. He glanced at his compatriot.
The first man shook his head. “I don’t care if she’s the Queen, Mr. Shirely said no one enters the property without permission.”
“Then, I suggest you get permission before my uncle learns how you treated me this morning.”
“Miss Randall.” The man ground his teeth together. “The day is early, the house is asleep. I suggest you return at a decent hour. After I determine your acceptability, I will allow you to pass.” He pointed the pistol at her. “Until then, I suggest you leave.”
Miss Randall’s face scrunched tightly, and a tear escaped, sliding slowly down her cheek. She turned to Thomas, her eyes begging. He drew her against his chest, and she sobbed, trembling in his arms. Stroking his hand over her head, he glanced up at the man on horseback. “When would you advise our return?”
“When you have received an invitation,” he replied, tilting his head, “unless you are not who you say you are.”
“She is.” Wrapping his arm around her waist, Thomas dragged Miss Randall from the property, leading her toward the Westwood Estate.
“I will have him sacked,” she muttered angrily against his shirt. Pushing off Thomas, she glanced behind her, her eyes gleaming. “Uncle Alexander would never ban me from his estate.”
“Would your aunt?” asked Thomas, taking her arm and tugging gently. Miss Randall took a few steps down the road, her eyes narrowed. She twisted again, yanking her hand from Thomas’ grasp, marching back toward the Shirely mansion. “Aunt Lillian has no right to forbid me from visiting.”
Thomas ran after her, grabbing her shoulders, his fingers digging into her upper arms. He spun her around, forcing her to stare at him. “I realize you are concerned about your cousin. However, there is nothing we can do at this moment. Return home with me, and we will call upon your family at a later time.”
Her eyes flicked between Thomas and the gate leading to the Shirely house. Sighing, Miss Randall deflated an
d closed her eyes, leaning her head against Thomas. “Of course. It was irrational of me to visit without first sending a missive. Thank you. I apologize for causing so much trouble this morning.”
“It truly is no trouble.”
She lifted her head, staring at him, her violet eyes shifting color, darkening to amethyst. Gracefully, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. Raising up on her toes, she placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then pulled away slowly. “Should you ever be in want of a wife, I would happily fulfill that role for you.”
Dread rolled through Thomas. His fingers closed around her wrists, detangling her hands from his hair. “I appreciate your generous offer; however, I have no desire for a wife.”
“What do you desire?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Peace.”
Miss Randall arched an eyebrow. “You are an intriguing man.”
“How so?”
“Do you not believe in love?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Yet you do not want a wife?”
“Love is not for me.”
“Love and marriage are two separate things.” Miss Randall clasped her hands behind her back, strolling down the road, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I have a proposal for you.”
Thomas fell into step beside her. “Which is?”
“With Uncle Horace’s passing and the imminent demise of Aunt Hattie…” She held up her hand, stopping Thomas. “I must accept Mr. Morris will carry out his threat.”
Nodding, Thomas pursed his lips.
“I must think of my own safety, and I have come to the conclusion a husband would provide me with the necessary protection.” She stopped, turning her gaze on him. “I would like that man to be you.”
“Me?” Thomas sputtered, stepping back.
“I realize you do not love me, but I believe we are amiably suited. As we both have money, I have no need to fear your interest is only due to the size of my inheritance.”
“Miss Randall…”
“Of course, I will perform all the tasks associated with being a wife.” Her eyes flicked over him, pleading. “Please, Mr. Reid. I am frightened, and I cannot live with your mother for the rest of my life.”
“I am flattered by your request.” Thomas swallowed, his stomach churning. “However, we hardly know each other. Is there not some other acceptable man to consider?”
Miss Randall shook her head, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.
“I would like some time to consider your proposal.”
“You would like to discuss it with Lord Westwood?” She smiled.
Thomas forced a smile in return. “I would.”
“Then, I shall leave you to your brother.” She curtsied, turning onto the drive leading to Westwood Estate.
Frozen, Thomas watched her walk toward the house, his head swimming with jumbled thoughts. Marriage. She proposed marriage. Was he willing to sacrifice his own freedom to protect her? Without the support of her family, Miss Randall would be an easy target for Morris. Even though he said he would not harm her, what was the word of a murderer worth?
Trudging down the drive, Thomas made a sharp left, heading toward the stables. He needed a moment to analyze Miss Randall’s offer before discussing it with Benjamin. As he walked through the stable door, he crashed into something soft. With a grunt, it collapsed on the ground.
“How could you not see me?” exclaimed a voice.
“Miss Clemens?” Thomas held out his arm, dragging her to her feet.
“Mr. Reid.” She curtsied, wobbling on her injured ankle. Her palms hastily pressed into her eyes. “I am beginning to think you may be going blind.”
Had she been crying? “What are you doing here?”
“I was supposed to take a horseback riding lesson.”
“What happened?”
“My tutor was late.” She lowered her hands, narrowing her eyes.
“Was he?” Thomas grinned. “I don’t remember him setting a specific time.”
Miss Clemens blushed, she glanced down. “He didn’t.”
“How long have you been out here?”
“Since daybreak.”
“Eager for your lesson?”
“I could not sleep, and I find the stables calming and much warmer than the gazebo.” She peeked at him. “I didn’t mind the wait; Shadow kept me company.”
“Are the two of you good friends?”
Miss Clemens smiled. “We will be.”
“Unfortunately, I must postpone our lesson until later. I have something of import to discuss with Benjamin.”
“Lord Westwood? He is in the stables.” She gestured behind her.
“Thank you.” Thomas bowed, moving around her. He paused when he was even with her shoulders, turning his head. “Actually, I had another question to ask you.”
“A question on credit?” Her eyes sparkled.
“What if I extended our lesson by an hour to pay for the additional secret?”
“Bartering… that is quite inventive. Alright, Mr. Reid. I will allow one more question as long as I may ask my own.”
He already knew what question she intended to pose—her unasked question from last night. Why did he want to kiss her? He had the very same question for himself—although he amended it slightly. Why did he want to kiss her again, right now, this very moment, while the sunlight streamed through her unbound tresses? He was curious what answer he would give.
“You may.”
Tilting her head, she folded her hands, patiently waiting.
Thomas cleared his throat. “Do you want to get married?”
Miss Clemens’ jaw dropped. Clearly, that was not the question she expected to hear. “M-M-Mr. Reid, I hardly think one kiss is grounds to discuss marriage.”
“I meant, as a woman, is marriage something you desire?”
“You have answered your own question, sir. Is not a woman defined by her desire for matrimony?”
“Then you do want to marry?”
“Someday.”
“And would you marry for love?”
“I do not have the luxury to be selective. If an acceptable man showed interest, I would entertain the idea; I don’t wish to be a burden on Aunt Abigail or your mother.” She offered him a tight smile. “Affection can grow over time.”
“I hope that belief does not extend to Mr. Shirely.” Thomas’ hand clenched—the memory of Mr. Shirely’s hand, raised to strike Miss Clemens flashed into his mind.
“I do not consider him to be suitable.”
Thomas forced his fingers to relax, shaking out his hand. “And do you think a man should make the same decision regarding marriage?”
“A man should marry for love.”
Sitting on a stack of hay bales, Thomas patted the space next to him. Miss Clemens eyes flicked from the hay bale to Thomas and back again. She slowly shook her head. “I wish to stand for my questions.”
“Questions?”
“Yes, you asked me three questions, not one. I would like the same courtesy.”
“That is fair.” Thomas folded his hands behind his head, reclining against the stack of bales.
“Question one. Do you think I will be a proficient enough horseback rider to jump over fences?”
That was not the question he expected. He stared at her, wondering the origin of her query. “Yes, however, you will not master that feat in two lessons, no matter how long they last.”
She smirked and inclined her head. “Question two.” Turning away from him, she spoke to the barn door. “Do you intend to marry Miss Randall?”
Thomas choked, sitting forward, staring at Miss Clemens with watering eyes. “Why do you ask such a question?”
She rotated toward him, twisting her hands together. Hobbling over to the stack of hay bales, she dropped beside him, sinking her teeth deep into her lower lip. “I saw you kiss her last night.”
He should be honest with her. “As of this morning, I am considering the ide
a.”
Glancing down, she dug the toe of her shoe into the dirt, scraping the tip back-and-forth in a small line. “I would like to forgo my third question.” Her voice barely reached his ears.
“Why?”
She shook her head and rose, keeping her eyes on the ground. “I apologize for keeping you from your brother.”
“Miss Clemens…” Thomas stood, reaching out.
“Do not feel obligated to continue our friendship. I will only be in the way of your true pursuit.” She twisted away from his hand. “I wish you every happiness.”
“Miss Randall asked me for protection,” he blurted out. Miss Clemens turned back toward him, raising her eyes.
“I have given you my thoughts on the subject of marriage.”
Thomas closed the distance between them. She was close enough to touch. “I want to know your final question.”
A heavy sigh escaped her. “The answer no longer matters.”
“It does to me.” Thomas wrapped his hands around her forearms. “Please. Ask me why.”
She tilted her head, her eyes studying his face. “Why did you kiss me?”
“Because I wanted to.” He wanted to… and he was willing to risk the threat of marriage to do it again. Had she changed him that much in such a short time? Was he truly no longer affected by Alana’s rejection?
Miss Clemens’ lips parted in shock, her face mirroring his own emotion. “Do you still?”
Right now, at this very moment. The desire to press his mouth to hers raged through his body. “Yes.”
“That is problematic.”
His eyes dropped to her lips. “Indeed, it is.”
“And a bit confusing.”
“Extremely.”
“What do you propose to do about this?”
“I would like to kiss you again.”
“How would that solve this dilemma?”
