She paused at the newel post that was topped by a brass sculpture of a dog sitting on its back feet and holding a up glass globe. Resting her cheek against the railing, she stared at what must be some sort of lamp. She had not guessed she was still this weak. She had walked around her room throughout the day, but now she panted as if she had run all the way from Ireland to Haven.
When the weakness passed, Cailin pushed herself away from the banister. To her right, she saw what appeared, in the moonlight, to be a dining room. A large table was surrounded by tall chairs. The kitchen must be beyond it. She looked to her left. A door set back in the shadows next to a long-case clock was closed. Another one was shut as well, but a broad doorway was open near the front door. She went there, guessing quite rightly that it was a parlor.
She looked in. The light came from a lamp in the room beyond. Taking care to edge around the furniture that filled the parlor, she paused and stared at the incredible fountain in the corner. It was larger than the one that had been such a source of pride in the house where she had worked in New York.
Was Samuel as rich as her erstwhile employers? Until now, she had been able to overlook the elegance of the furniture in the room she had been using. “The guest room,” the children had called it. She had never heard of a house having such a room until she arrived in America.
Glistening in the faint light from the back room, the marble tabletops bespoke a wealth that contrasted with his worn workclothes. Everything she discovered about Samuel Jennings created more questions.
Cailin went to where pocket doors had been slid aside a short distance to grant entrance to a back parlor. She stared in astonishment at the disarray. A rolltop desk was set between the room’s two windows, and glass-fronted bookcases lined the walls. All of them were empty. Several frames with pages covered with words hung on the wall, but she saw no photographs.
Books were piled on the floor by several crates that must have been opened recently, because the lids with the nails sticking out of them were leaning against the wall. She doubted Samuel would have left those nails like this for long; he would not want one of the children to get stabbed.
Turning, she saw many more crates stacked to the ceiling. If the pocket doors had been opened all the way, crates might have spilled into the front parlor. She edged away, not wanting one to topple on her.
Were they all filled with books? She bent to touch a book on the closest pile. The leather binding was finer than any pair of shoes she had ever owned. Gold leaf edged the pages. Her employers in New York had been collecting art they believed gave their house a cultured appearance. Maybe Samuel collected fancy books.
“Oh, blessed morn!” she gasped when she saw that all the books were covered with fine leather and gold leaf. These must be worth more than Athair’s farm.
Hearing footsteps, she stood. She started for the door, then halted. Something had caught on her collar. She tried to shift, but whatever held on to her clattered against the wall. She strained to see what gripped the back of her collar.
“Cailin!” Samuel paused in the shadowed doorway. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“I’ve slept my fill, I guess.” She tried to edge to one side, hoping whatever held her collar would release it.
He took a step into the room, and she could not keep from staring. This was not the farmer she had met before, but a gentleman. His vest beneath his light brown coat was of gold satin. Trousers, a shade darker than his coat, partially covered shoes that glowed, even in the dim light, with a recent polish.
As he looked down at himself, he smiled. “I was on my way into Haven for a meeting, but if there’s something you need …”
To be unhooked from whatever has me! She silenced the thought, hoping she could figure out a way to get herself free from … whatever.
“I wanted to return these papers to you.” She held them out.
Taking them, he started to walk past her but halted when she moved only an inch to one side. She could not move farther. His brows lowered, and she smiled weakly. How could she explain that she was stuck?
“Do you have any questions about anything in them?” he asked as he edged around her and went to the desk. Rolling up the top, he drew a key out of a pocket. He pushed aside a pair of books. Opening a drawer, he put the papers inside and locked it again before lowering the top.
“No.” Cailin struggled to look over her shoulder. More frames were lined up just behind her. One of them must have snagged her collar.
“So you can see now why I was surprised when you arrived?”
“Yes, of course.” She wished he would leave so she could find a way to escape from whatever held her.
“I had thought you’d wait until morning before you started exploring.” He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Without the children underfoot, it was a bit easier.”
“True.” He smiled. “They do have a way of asking more questions than any one person can answer.”
Why was he being as talkative as the children? She wiggled a bit to her left, hoping she could get free. “I hope you don’t mind if I look around the house more in the daylight.”
“Of course not.”
“You have very nice furniture here.” She pretended to be intrigued with the lamp set on a crate by the door. “So many of the things seem new. Did you buy them just before you left Cincinnati?”
“Yes.”
At Samuel’s terse answer, Cailin looked at him. What was it about Cincinnati that caused this reaction? Maybe the children would know.
Quietly she said, “I don’t want to keep you from being on time for your meeting.”
“I should be going.” He turned, his foot hitting a stack of books. When they crashed to the floor, he grimaced and bent to pick them up.
This was her chance. She slipped a hand up behind her, groping to reach the frame and free herself.
Broad fingers covered hers, and she looked up. Her nose bumped into Samuel’s firm chin. She would have jumped back if she could have but froze when he laughed.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
“I can’t. Can you get me loose without ripping my collar?”
“I’m not sure I should. You make a nice addition to the wall.”
She stared up at Samuel. His face was even more compelling at this distance, and more contradictory. Although he was smiling, his eyes had an intensity that unsettled her.
“I don’t think this is funny,” she replied. “You wouldn’t think it was funny either if you were stuck.”
“Probably not.” He chuckled while he worked to detach the frame from her dress. A scent of some musky cologne drifted from him as he stepped back. “There. All set, and no damage to you.”
Cailin realized she might as well smile, too. “Just my pride.”
He laughed. When he reached toward her, she fought not to scurry away. She might get snagged again. The heat of embarrassment pumped through her as he straightened the frame behind her.
“And no damage to anything but my foot and some of these books.” He gave her that cockeyed grin that sent something luscious swirling through her. “Next time, I’ll watch where I’m going. But you must admit, a woman squirming up against the wall is distracting.”
Her gaze was caught by his. She was going to have to watch what she said. He could be as smooth as a fresh coat of whitewash. “Really, Samuel!”
“Really, Cailin.”
She realized he had not moved farther away. With his arm resting on the wall close to her, he had—if anything—inched closer.
“If you will excuse me—”
“I have so far, even when you poked your nose into my office.”
“Your office? I didn’t know farmers have offices,” she said.
“This one does, for the lack of a better name for this mess.”
“Have you read all these books?”
“Heavens, no!” He laughed and lifted one out of a crate. “These law books a
ren’t easy reading.”
“Law books? Are you a lawyer?”
“I have been.” He dropped the book back into the crate. “But right now, I need to be on my way into Haven or I’ll be so late the library committee meeting will be over.” He did not move as he added, “We’re trying to get a library established in the village. Then I can donate these books and get them out of my house.”
“If you needed them—”
“They’d be right there. I just would have to go into town and get them.”
She laughed. “So you have the villagers’ appreciation and yet get what you want, too?”
“Exactly. I hope others aren’t as insightful as you, Cailin.” His voice softened on her name, turning it into a caress.
If he heard the gasp battering within her throat, he might … she had no idea what he might do. He truly was a contradiction. He read people well; perhaps that was a skill he had learned along with the law. Maybe he thought this honesty would make her trust him. She should put him to rights and let him know how thoroughly he was failing.
She did not trust him, and she did not trust herself when he was standing so close to her. She resisted glancing at the door to see if the children might have slipped down the stairs to eavesdrop. This room seemed so much cozier with the two of them here. Too cozy.
“I had another reason for looking for you,” she said.
“Really?” He arched that single eyebrow, and she wondered if he had guessed how that fascinated her.
“Now that I’m well—”
“Better, but not well, I’d say by the look of you. You’re pale.”
“My Irish complexion.” She laughed, but the sound fell flat.
“If your Irish complexion is gray.”
“Samuel, I need to look for work to support myself and my children.”
He scowled. “I’ve been taking care of the children for the past six months, and I don’t intend to stop making sure they have food and a roof over their heads simply because you’ve shown up in Haven.”
“I need to find work.” She should not have mentioned the children; Samuel always got defensive when she spoke of them. “I thought you might be able to recommend someone who needs help in the house.”
“Maids aren’t de rigueur in Haven.”
“What?”
His smile returned but was cool. “No one has a maid here.”
“You have Rhea.”
“Yes, but only to help two days a week. That isn’t unusual. A full-time staff is. This isn’t New York City.”
Cailin bit back the sarcastic retort she wanted to make when he acted as if she had no more sense than Lottie. “If that’s the case, then I may have to leave Haven to look for work.”
“Or you could take over the household here.”
“Here?” She stared at him in disbelief. While she was ailing, nobody would think it strange for her to remain in this house with Samuel, but if she stayed once she was well, it would be very different.
As if he had heard her thoughts, he asked, “Do you really care more about what other people think than about your children?”
The words stung, for that was the very crime Mrs. Rafferty had been guilty of. “No!”
“Then stay and take care of the household. That will free me to catch up on my work in the fields. I’m behind because of caring for you.”
It made sense. She would have a place to live, and her children would be with her and well cared for. Quietly she asked, “How much will you pay me?”
“Rhea gets fifty cents a week. I’ll give you the same, as well as your room.”
“That’s too generous!”
“Do you want to accept it or not?”
Cailin could not miss the hope and despair mixed in his expression. He was offering her this job to keep her from taking the children and leaving. Didn’t he realize the money she earned would be saved for passage to Ireland? She stared down at her clasped hands. It would take a very long time to pay for four tickets, but she doubted she could get better wages anywhere else.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll accept it.”
“Good.” The satisfaction in his voice brought her head up. “That solves my problem of finding someone to replace Rhea.”
“She’s quitting?”
He did not meet her eyes as he said in an abruptly clipped tone, “She’s getting married soon.”
“To someone you don’t like?”
“No, he’s a fine young man.”
She guessed this was another topic he did not want to discuss, so she said, “I don’t want to delay you from your meeting.”
“But you are.” He stepped nearer.
“I can move aside now and let you by.”
“Yes, I suppose you can.” His hand curved around her shoulder. “Or I could just pick you up and set you aside as I do the children when they get in the way.”
“I think you’ve carried me around enough.” She tried to smile, but her lips seemed to have a mind of their own when he was touching her; all they had on that mind was being pressed against his. When she took a step aside, his arm drew her back to him. “I can find my way to my room and bed all by myself.”
“Yes, I suppose you can.”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“Sometimes a man just has to keep doing something until he gets it right.”
His mouth claimed hers, and he tugged her against him. As her hands glided up his firm back, he pressed her against the wall. She gasped against his mouth as his bold fingers grazed her side. Her dress wrinkled beneath his eager touch. When his tongue caressed her lips before delving within her mouth to sample every slippery surface, each touch created an escalating pleasure that urged her to sample more. She wanted to be closer to him, so close that not even a thought could come between them.
He raised his mouth. When she whispered a protest, he smiled. He brushed her hair away from her face as he examined every inch of it, lighting it with the blaze from his eyes.
“We could make a good team,” he whispered.
Pushing herself out of his arms, she feared that he had kissed her only to entice her into staying. “I want to believe you, Samuel, but I don’t know if I can.”
He folded her fingers between his. She turned to look at him, and he smiled sadly. “You’re afraid to believe me, but you’ll come to see I’m being honest with you.”
“You have more faith in me than I have in myself.” A pang cut through her. She should tell him why. He deserved an explanation. She refused to listen to her heart which warned her of the danger she courted by craving his kisses when he wanted her children.
“Who are you?” he asked.
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Smiling, his finger traced a path across her eyebrow and along her cheek. “I mean who are you? I can’t imagine a woman whose passion can barely be held within her allowing her children to be taken from her so easily.”
“I explained what happened. Don’t you believe me?”
“I’m trying to.” His finger steered her mouth to his.
“Mama!” The cry from beyond the front parlor drove right into her heart.
“Megan!” Samuel gasped.
Needlessly, for Cailin recognized her daughter’s panicked voice. She pushed away from him and ran into the other room. Crashing into a table, she shoved herself around it and rushed to Megan.
The little girl threw her arms around Cailin’s waist and pressed her tear-soaked face against her. “Mama! Mama!”
“I’m here, a stór.” She lifted Megan, leaning the child’s head on her shoulder, even though it took almost every ounce of what little strength she had regained. Megan’s legs wrapped around her waist, her ankles locking together. “Hush, a stór. I’m right here with you.”
“I dreamed you’d gone away and I’d never see you again.” Her voice came out in broken sobs. “Not ever again. I dreamed you coming here was just a dream.”
“I’m here, Megan, and
I’m never going to leave you. Not ever.” She buried her face in the little girl’s hair. “Not ever,” she whispered again.
Samuel stood beside the pocket door and watched in silence. Everything he had believed about the children was wrong. He thought they were happy with him. And they had been, until their mother found her way back to them.
When Cailin sat on the sofa, settling Megan on her lap and murmuring so softly he could not hear her words, he brought the lamp from the back parlor and set it on the table beside them. He was not certain either of them had even noticed until Cailin looked up and thanked him quietly.
“I need to leave for the meeting,” he said, uncomfortable in his own house as he had never been before. This connection between Cailin and her children was stronger than he had imagined. Or he had wanted to imagine, for he had fooled himself into believing he could make them this happy.
“Go,” she whispered as she cuddled Megan, who already appeared to be half-asleep. “She’ll be all right.”
Megan sat up. “I’m all right now, Mama.” She wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her white cotton nightgown. “I thought you weren’t here. I’m glad you and Samuel are here now.”
“You should have only happy dreams from now on.”
“Tuck me in, Mama?”
Samuel picked up the little girl. “Your mother is not completely better. Toting you up the stairs is too much for her.”
“Then will you tuck me in, Samuel?”
His gaze caught Cailin’s as he said, “I can’t think of many things I’d rather do. While I do that, your mother can sit here and get some color back into her cheeks.”
Cailin put her hand up to her face, and he almost laughed. That expression, pensive and yet uncertain, was one he had seen on Megan’s face often.
“Will you sit here, Cailin, while I pop this silly girl back into bed?” He flipped Megan so he was holding her by the ankles. As she squealed with delight, he set her on the floor and put his finger to her lips. “Quiet, so you don’t wake your brother and Lottie.”
“Lottie was snoring when I came down.” Megan’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “So much noise from a little girl. Did you know she snores, Mama?”
When Cailin’s smile glowed in her eyes, he tried to ignore the twist of something pleasurable in his gut, something he had not felt since … He hurried to say, “Now you’re dawdling, Megan.” He gave her a gentle shove toward the door, but Megan ran back to Cailin. “Tell your mother good night and that she should sit quietly there until I come back down.”
After the Storm Page 8
