Mutiny of the Heart

by McDonough, Vickie;

  He smiled and held out his elbow. “Shall we?”

  She hesitated touching him. If doing so affected her as much as his smile, she was in big trouble. She couldn’t afford to harbor feelings for her employer.

  Still, he might be offended if she refused his escort, and spurned men often heaped their anger on the women who rebuffed them.

  His dark brows rose, and his friendly blue eyes glimmered with humor. “Really, Miss Hawthorne, is it such a difficult decision to accept my arm?”

  Smiling inwardly at his chivalry, she forced her hand around his warm, well-muscled arm. It was not the limb of a man from the city.

  They walked along in silence, and a warm shiver wiggled down her spine when he didn’t force her to talk. Birds chirped in the trees above them, and spots of sunlight broke through the heavy canopy of leaves, dappling the ground. The well-used dirt path wound through a grove of trees lining the creek, then opened up to a fenced pasture where more than a dozen horses grazed. Several foals frolicked in the knee-high grasses, kicking their awkward legs and chasing each other, while others nestled in the tall grasses, sleeping next to their grazing mothers. Nearby, a solid brown foal with a fuzzy black mane and tail nursed while its patient mother dozed. Heather’s cheeks flamed, and she tried not to watch. As a young girl, she’d often slipped down to her father’s stables to see the young horses come springtime, but viewing such with a gentleman present …

  Thankfully, Mr. Reed continued to meander down the path without commenting. As they neared the end of the fence, he finally stopped and released her. She leaned against the wooden rails and continued to watch the horses, the birds, the flowers. Anything but him.

  She held tight to the weathered wood, hoping to stem her nervousness. Her feelings were changing. She’d come to America a staunch British Loyalist who despised the colonists for what they’d done, but she realized now they were just people fighting for what they felt was rightfully theirs. She could understand why they wanted freedom from a ruler an ocean away who didn’t understand the plight they faced in this wild land. And if she faced the truth, America’s War for Independence wasn’t responsible for her father losing his wealth as much as was his lust for gambling. She didn’t want to believe him capable of such a deed, so she had blamed the faceless colonists.

  But now they had faces—and names.

  Mr. Reed paced the grass beside her with his hands locked behind his back. Whatever he wanted to talk to her about must be difficult. Why else would he be so anxious? She swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn’t send her packing.

  He cleared his throat. “Again, I want to express my apologies for Miss Dupont’s lack of self-control. You don’t need to tell me what she said. I could see that it bothered you immensely. She can be … um … overly feisty at times.”

  “Don’t you mean rude?” Too late, she realized she’d voiced the words out loud.

  He chuckled. “That, too.” He stopped beside her and leaned his hip against a fence rail, staring in her direction.

  She glanced sideways at him, caught his intense gaze, then smiled and looked away. Oh my. Did he have any idea how he affected her?

  She tightened her grip on the fence, wincing as a splinter from the dried wood pricked her hand. She simply must put a stop to such nonsensical thoughts.

  “I was wondering …”

  She peered sideways, watching him fidget. Why was he nervous?

  ten

  Heather held her breath. The next words he uttered could mean joy or utter sadness.

  “I mean,” Mr. Reed said, “would you consider staying longer? I haven’t had a chance to interview anyone for the governess position, and now that we’re here at the plantation, I don’t anticipate being able to easily interview prospects. I just think it would be best for Jamie if you could stay longer.” He ran his hands through his thick, black hair and heaved another deep sigh, as if the words rushing out of him had left him breathless.

  Heather’s pulse increased. She could have more time with Jamie.

  But then it skidded to a halt. Wouldn’t that make the separation harder for him in the long run?

  “Miss Hawthorne—Heather—please look at me.”

  Startled by his use of her Christian name, she turned toward him. His lovely eyes roved her face, making it hard for her to breathe. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Can you deny that there is something growing between us?”

  He felt it, too? She wasn’t just imagining the impossible or letting her emotions run wild? She tried to swallow, but her throat felt too dry.

  “I know this is an awkward situation, but I want you to know that I’ve not felt a thing for another woman since I lost Deborah—not until you burst into my life.”

  “But what of Miss Dupont? She seems to believe that you and she have an understanding.”

  He harrumphed and crossed his arms. “She is mistaken. I’ve never given her reason to assume such a thing and told her so not half an hour ago.”

  He cared nothing for Miss Dupont? A smile tickled her lips, and she ducked her head, ashamed at her unbridled joy.

  “So, my question remains: Do you have any interest in staying longer not just for Jamie’s sake, but to see if this”—he waved his hand in the air—“attraction, or whatever it is we are sensing, has any merit?”

  She wanted to give free rein to her excitement, but common sense pulled back on the lines. He was as much a nobleman as you’d find in this new country, so why would he be infatuated with a poor soap maker?

  Somehow, even though it might break her heart, she had to make him see reason. “I fear you’ve already weakened your standing among your friends and associates by agreeing to raise Jamie. How would they feel if you were to associate with a British citizen?”

  He shrugged. “I have done far worse, I can assure you. And if I recall, you’re now a Canadian.” An enticing smirk danced on his lips.

  “You may call a mule a horse, but that doesn’t make it so.”

  “Bah! Do not belittle yourself like that.” He stepped closer. “When I look at you, I see a lovely woman with beguiling brown eyes, who left her home and ventured on a long, dangerous journey to unite a young boy with his family. You’re sweet and generous, and it would be my honor to have you walk at my side.”

  “You’re too kind, sir.” Tears stung her eyes as she stared at the tiny white flowers at their feet. No man had ever stood up for her, not even her father. She didn’t deserve someone like Mr. Reed, not that he’d offered marriage, but she knew if they started on this course that well could be where it led. A thought burst into her mind. If she married Mr. Reed, she would be Jamie’s mother!

  But she couldn’t do that—marry the father for the lad’s sake.

  Something suddenly shoved her hard in the back, forcing her forward and against Mr. Reed. His arms encircled her, and he chuckled. “It seems someone else took offense to your mule reference.”

  She glanced over her shoulder into a horse’s muzzle. The animal blew warm breath against her face and pulled its head back to its side of the fence. She squealed and buried her cheek against her employer’s waistcoat. His torso vibrated with his laughter. Realizing the impropriety of where she stood, she pushed against his chest, but the hands clutched behind her back refused to yield.

  “You have not yet answered me.” His eyes blazed like blue fire.

  Oh, could this really be happening to her? Was he simply toying with her?

  “I see a battle going on in that pretty head of yours. Have I made a dreadful assumption?” His smile disappeared, and he let go so fast she stumbled. “Do you feel nothing for me?”

  “Nay.”

  He scowled, disappointment clouding his eyes. “I mean nay to the first question.”

  He blinked, relaxing his stance. “Which question was that?”

  “I, too, have felt an … attraction … to you.” Her cheeks flamed. Never had she talked with a man in such a manner. “I would like to sta
y … to see what happens.”

  His wide smile was her reward. He ran a finger down her cheek, his eyes filling with tenderness.

  “Fate has blessed me this day,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Not fate. God is the one who preordained it all.”

  She frowned. “God has never been so inclined to bless me before. I fear He has all but turned His back on me.”

  “I believed that once, too. After I lost Deborah, I tried to drown out my sorrows with ale, but it never worked. I’d sober up then try it all over again. I couldn’t understand why God would allow something to happen to such a gentle soul like Deborah. Until you arrived, I never knew if she’d decided marriage to me was too unbearable and ran away, or if something more nefarious had happened to her.” He shook his head. “I’d be lying if I said I understand it all now, but I’m beginning to see God had a greater plan.”

  “Why would He allow Deborah to suffer so? After Jamie was born, she was so weak and fragile that she could hardly hold and enjoy him.”

  He ran his hand down the back of her head, sending delicious chills up and down her spine. “I don’t know. But I can tell you that after searching for her for almost two years and not finding even a hint of where she might be, I finally reached the keel—my lowest point. A kind clergyman found me passed out in a filthy alley in Boston, took me in, and poured God’s Word into me instead of ale. He helped me to see that I was a sinner loved by God but in need of repentance, just like the rest of mankind. The day I gave my heart to God, everything changed. I became a new man.”

  Heather pondered his words. Her mother had been a devout believer in God but not her father. After her mother died, her father never let her attend church again.

  “Come, we should be getting back.” He took her hand, guiding her onto the path. “As much as I wish it wasn’t so, I’ve guests to attend, and I’m sure Jamie thinks we’ve abandoned him by now.”

  She felt almost as if they were a couple, but she didn’t dare get her hopes up. What if Mr. Reed grew tired of her? Would he cast her aside?

  She realized just how little she actually knew about the man. But one thing she was certain of, though he’d once been a rogue, Lucas Reed was now an honorable man. He’d certainly done right by his son.

  “Do you suppose you could call me Lucas when we’re alone?”

  She stopped, surprised by his soft-spoken request. “You’re my employer. It would hardly seem proper.”

  “Heather, I’d like to be a lot more than just your employer. Would it help if I were to fire you and allow you to remain here as a guest of the family?”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “Nay. That isn’t necessary.”

  He ran his knuckle across her cheek. “I love your name.”

  A breath caught in her throat. “Thank you.”

  “When we’re alone, will you please call me by my Christian name?”

  She ducked her head, still unsure.

  With one long finger under her chin, he lifted it so that she had to look at him. “Please?”

  With a resolved sigh, she nodded. “Aye … Lucas.”

  His whole face lit up with his wide grin. Curving her hand around his arm, he led her back toward the bridge, whistling a jolly tune.

  “You sure seem happy this morning, Lucas. Almost giddy, if you ask me, especially considering what happened yesterday.”

  “I do feel quite well today.” Lucas glanced across the breakfast table and met his mother’s curious gaze. “I’m sorry for upsetting your friends, Mother, but Miss Dupont needed to know that I’m not the man for her.”

  His mother stirred her tea. “I suppose I’ve known for a long while that you only look upon her as a neighbor and possibly a friend.”

  He lifted a brow. Hilary surely would no longer consider him a friend. He couldn’t help wondering what kind of backlash he’d receive from rejecting her affections. The Dupont women had wide circles of influence. Well, no matter. His affections lay elsewhere, so there was nothing to be done about it. He slathered twice as much jam as normal on his bread in his effort not to look at Heather. Keeping his attraction to her under control in front of his astute mother would be difficult, but he must give Heather as much time as she needed to get to know him—and to fall in love. For he had little doubt that’s where their relationship was headed.

  “And what do you plan to do today, young man?”

  While his mother’s gaze was directed at Jamie, he peeked at Heather and winked. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned bright red. He bit back a grin. Teasing her and flirting would be enjoyable.

  “I hope Papa will take me riding.” Jamie peered at him, looking shy, but Lucas was glad his son felt bold enough to express himself. The boy was gradually coming out of the cocoon that he’d been wrapped up in living alone with Heather.

  “I imagine that could be arranged, son. But first, finish your breakfast. A man needs a full stomach to work all morning.”

  Jamie frowned and stared at his porridge. Did he not like the food?

  “That’s a splendid idea,” his mother said. “Heather and I will busy ourselves with redoing Jamie’s room and making a list of the supplies we’ll need to purchase to finish the project.”

  Heather sat quietly to his left, sipping her tea. She spoke little during mealtimes, and he wondered if she still felt odd partaking with the family. If he had things his way, he’d keep her close for the rest of their lives.

  A quick rap sounded at the back door. Mrs. Overton entered the dining room shortly afterward with Samuel following. The horseman had removed his hat, revealing curly black hair tinged with gray, and he crinkled the brim in his hand. Something had happened.

  Lucas stood and crossed the room into the hall, where they could talk and not be overheard. “What is it?”

  Samuel followed. He glanced at the family through the doorway then leaned in close and whispered, “We’s had us another robbery.”

  Lucas sighed. “What did they take this time?”

  Samuel scratched his ear. “Well now, that be the odd thing. All’s they stole was a feed bucket and an ol’ horse blanket.”

  Lucas excused himself and strode to the barn, with Samuel hurrying to keep up. Three thefts in eight days meant the robber was getting comfortable—bolder—and had to be somewhere close by. How long before he decided to break into the house—or until someone got hurt?

  In the barn, he surveyed the tack room, looking for anything amiss. “Everything here seems in order. Why would someone risk capture just to steal a bucket and blanket?” It made no sense.

  “Just downright foolhardiness if’n you asks me.” Samuel shrugged and picked up an embroidered handkerchief. “Found this wheres the blanket was.”

  The linsey-woolsey fabric had neat but almost childlike stitching around the outer edge. Had the thief accidentally dropped this? Left it as payment for what he took? Lucas shook his head. A wooden pail was easy enough to make if you had the skill, and the blanket wasn’t overly expensive, but both were worth far more than a simple handkerchief. Something had to be done to stop the thefts.

  He set the handkerchief on a high shelf. “Leave that there, and don’t let anyone else touch it. Send Julius up to the house with horses for him and me. I’ll send him to Ben Ellison’s house with a note, asking Ben to bring his hunting dogs. Perhaps we can use the cloth to track the thief.”

  “That’s a right good idea. I’ll go fetch him.”

  While Samuel searched for Julius, Lucas hurried back to the house to prepare a note requesting Ben’s help. Then he’d ride over to Madison Gardens and see if Richard had encountered the thief or could help in the search.

  In his office, he quickly penned the note to Ben, melted some wax over the raw edge of the paper, and stamped the Reed seal into it.

  A knock sounded outside his open door, and his mother stood in the hall holding a vase of flowers. She smiled and entered the room. “I brought something to brighten up your work area.”


  He stood. “This dull place could use something lively.”

  She set the vase on the back of his desk, and the scent of candle wax faded against the fragrance of the flowers. His mother’s silver and blue day dress looked beautiful and blended well with her eyes. “Is something wrong? I couldn’t hear your conversation with Samuel, but you both looked worried.”

  Lucas blew out a heavy breath. “There’s been another theft.”

  His mother laid a hand across her chest. “Oh my. Was anything valuable taken?”

  “That’s the odd thing. This thief only takes small things, and one or two at a time. A hen, a bucket, a horse blanket. I can’t make any sense of it.”

  “Hmm … sounds like things a person might need to survive.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t suppose it’s a runaway slave, do you?”

  He laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping to reassure her.

  “I sincerely doubt it. I thought that at first, but I can’t see a slave staying this long. He’d want to get as far away from his owner as possible.”

  “Perhaps he feels safe here, knowing that you don’t own slaves.”

  Lucas pursed his lips and shook his head. “I just can’t see it. A runaway is still his owner’s property and wouldn’t be any safer here than somewhere else. As much as I despise slavery, it is legal, and I’d be breaking the law to harbor someone else’s slave.”

  His mother narrowed her eyes and stared at him. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve broken the law for a good cause.”

  He turned and strode to the open doors leading onto the balcony. Across the shaded lawn, he could see Heather and Jamie seated on a quilt in the shelter of a massive live oak in the far corner of the garden. Shrubs in full bloom framed the area in pink, white, and lavender flowers. Such a lovely sight warred with the memories swirling in his mind. “Those days are behind me, Mother. Besides, I was young and headstrong then, determined to free our country from Britain’s stronghold. Being a privateer with the blessings of the Patriot government was a way to help the war efforts and to hinder the supply line to the British troops.”