I really didn't want to dance with him tonight. He probably knew I had feelings for him, and that's why he avoided me.
Would he even uphold his part of the wager? I had no idea and we'd spoken only sporadically in the last few days. Never of the race or our almost-kiss.
The thought of being in close proximity to him, with my messy emotions, made me want to avoid the whole thing altogether.
If he didn't know already, I didn't want him to see that I was in love with him. Drat my traitorous heart.
Ruth tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she looked over my hair. She teased the soft ringlets that she’d curled around my face. She must have sensed my jitters because she clasped my hand briefly. “You look lovely, miss.”
In the mirror, I met Minerva's eyes. Her hands twisted in her lap and she'd gone whiter than I’d ever see her. “Actually,” I said, trying to smile, “Minerva will be the belle of the ball. Look how pretty she is with her pink ribbon.”
It was true. Minerva’s dark blond hair wrapped around the back of her head and the pink ribbon against the white gown she wore complimented her figure and complexion. But her blue eyes were large and scared.
She smiled, almost a grimace. “I would as soon stay up here instead of going down. A woman of eight and twenty will never be noticed among the other women. However, I would not disappoint our hostess.”
I glanced to Ruth, unsure how to respond. Warmth and sorrow reflected in her eyes. I cleared my throat. “Surely Tristan will ask you to dance.”
Ruth dropped her comb on the floor. I bent and picked it up.
Minerva shot a startled gaze at me, then abruptly looked away. “I dare say he will not. Come, let us go down before we are missed.”
It wasn't exactly an apology, but at least she had spoken to me.
I could hear the sound of many voices even before we arrived at the Howarth’s beautiful staircase that led down into the foyer. Going up from the first level it split so that it led off to both wings of the huge house. As Minerva and I descended the top half-flight of stairs, Andrew appeared at the head of the stairs coming down from the other hallway. He looked incredible in his dark jacket and trousers. The crisp white cravat he wore accentuated the strong lines of his jaw. Drat the man’s valet for making him look so handsome.
Drat everything tonight.
I tried not to look at him as he descended opposite us. But our eyes met and held, and under the intensity of his gaze, I faltered and missed the last step. He reached out a hand to steady me. The contact was over before I could blink. Or maybe I only imagined the warmth of his hand.
He stood back so that Minerva and I could precede him down the stairs. I felt his eyes burning into my back the rest of the way down.
At the bottom of the staircase, I stepped to the side and paused, half-hidden behind the banister. Minerva didn't seem to notice my absence as she moved easily through the press of people. Could I sneak back upstairs unnoticed?
“May I have the first dance, Miss Briggs?” Andrew’s voice came close to my ear, low and intimate. All thoughts of escape flew from my brain. My lower back burned where his hand touched it.
“I--” The rest of my words lodged somewhere near my sternum. I swallowed, but my mouth felt like sandpaper and I couldn't get anything else out.
“Say yes.” His warmth breath on my cheek made my pulse thrum. “Don't make me beg.”
I couldn't look at him, afraid he'd see the emotions that quivered through me. “Okay.”
“I'll find you when the music starts.” And he was gone.
My heartbeat clanged like the beat of a well-swung hammer against an anvil. This time it didn't shatter. Nor did it slow down during the twenty interminable minutes before the violinist drew his bow across the strings and sent the first notes out over the noise of the crowd.
Andrew appeared at my elbow and swept me into the frenzy of dancing couples, though it wasn't like any dance I knew from my life before the nineteenth century.
Ruth had showed me the steps to the most popular dances a few days ago and I managed now without making too many noticeable mistakes. The English country dance required almost no touching, but each time Andrew's hand closed over mine, I felt the same spark of energy that had pulsed through me on our ride across the moor.
He didn't speak, even during the part of the dance where we spun in a tighter circle by ourselves. I only met his eyes in fleeting glances because I didn't want him to know how he affected me.
I focused instead on my footwork and on the couples conversing around us.
“I declare, the Howarths certainly host a divine ball.”
I caught the words from the woman dancing next to us. She was stunning. Her fine dress and hair coiffed with sparkling jewels spoke of her wealth. Her partner appeared to hang on every word.
“Oh!” She gasped softly. “I cannot believe who Andrew Howarth is dancing with.”
My face heated and I missed a step. What was the next move? I froze.
“Mattie,” Andrew whispered. He clasped my wrist and drew me into the proper formation. Our eyes met and held. His smiled as if he hadn't heard the painful words. But I couldn't seem to block them out.
A giggle. “Yes, simply scandalous. Her sister dallied with her beau.”
All other conversations in our vicinity stopped.
I extricated myself from Andrew's grasp, ignoring the fact that he called after me, and slipped out a nearby veranda door without looking back. In seconds, I was hidden deep in the garden, where no one could hear the sobs I muffled in my hands.
Humiliation worse than what I'd felt in the churchyard obliterated the one seed of hope I'd held onto. Why would Andrew choose someone with a past like mine?
Why had Minerva betrayed me?
Why didn't God protect me? He'd taken away everything – my parents, my fiancé, my life.
“For God so loved the world…”
The words from John 3:16 reverberated in my head. It was the first memory verse I’d ever learned.
“No.” The groan ripped from my raw throat. Chilled from the cold, wet air, shivers racked my body. I didn't want to think about God's love. Love hurt too much.
“...that He gave His only Son...”
“She betrayed me.” Sob. “Just like Jared.” Sniffle. “And Hannah.”
“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Hadn’t Jesus been betrayed?
And given his own life anyway?
How could I resist Someone who loved me that much?
Oh, God, I’m sorry.
Peace stole into the darkness, warmth spread over my goosebump-riddled skin. I wiped the tears from my cheeks.
I still didn’t know why God had allowed those closest to me to betray me, but I knew that He never would. I could go on, even if I had to go on alone.
I remained in the garden, praying. I prayed for Jared and Hannah and for Minerva. Even for Andrew, though that prayer ripped my heart out. The realization that he was better off without me was hard to bear, but its truth resonated in my heart.
Not ready to go back in to the ball yet, I knew that if I stayed out here any longer I would likely cause another scandal. I got up.
The sound of voices stilled me. I recognized one of them – Minerva. “I dare say we should go back now. She is not here.”
“In a moment, poppet.”
I didn’t recognize the male voice, but its tone set my teeth on edge. Should I sneak away, or go to meet them? Lead me, Lord.
“I insist we return to the ball.”
When I moved to find them, my slippers didn't make a sound against the garden pavers. That was good, but it meant that Minerva's wouldn't either. How could I locate them without calling out?
The man's voice came again. “Aw, come now, poppet. I agreed to help you look for your sista. I should get sumpin' in return.”
I heard a sound like a slap.
“You sh
ouldna done that.”
“Unhand me!” Minerva cried out.
I ducked around a corner in the hedge and came upon them. A man clutched Minerva’s shoulders while she struggled.
Fear for Minerva and anger at someone who would try to hurt her pulsed through me. I rushed at them and my clenched fist connected with the man’s jaw. Pain splintered up my wrist and forearm. Minerva fell to the ground. I moved between her and the man.
His eyes were dark and glinted with evil intentions. I could see the rest of his face clearly in the light of the full moon and his twisted smile sent a shiver of fear or disgust through me. He touched his lip and his hand came away with blood on the fingertips.
Before he could try anything else, I blurted, “I think you should leave. You’re not welcome here.”
He laughed, expelling hot breath that reeked of alcohol. “I don't think so.”
He reached out for me, but I stepped out of his reach.
“I'll have me payment first, lassie.”
Minerva whimpered.
My whole hand throbbed from the punch I'd thrown. What should I do now?
The sound of approaching footsteps sent relief spinning through me, almost making me dizzy. I called out.
Andrew and Tristan rounded the corner.
###
Moments later, Minerva sat on the stone bench where she'd been relocated by Andrew. She wept into the handkerchief he'd given her. I sat next to her, patting her shoulder lightly, trying to ignore Andrew's presence in the shadows nearby. Instead, my skin prickled with awareness.
“Tristan will be back in a moment,” I murmured.
Minerva began to sob in earnest.
“Ssh.” I wrapped my arm over her shoulders. “You're okay. We're both all right.”
“I h-h-hate you.”
Stunned, I broke contact and sat back. I'd just saved her, and she hated me?
“He chose you. Stone called on me first – he was my suitor! And you took him from me.”
I didn't want to hear this, but Minerva went on anyway. “So I took him back.”
She hiccuped. “I intended only to test him, but each stolen moment... He was so charming. He loved me better, you know.”
Heat swept over me, bringing the familiar hurts with it. It was worse, knowing that she'd wanted to betray me.
“He intended to break the engagement. One afternoon, we embraced. One thing led to another, and when you found us—” She began to cry again. I reached for her. She batted my hand away. “You ruined everything.”
I folded my hands in my lap, trying to still their trembling. I bowed my head. God... Nothing else came. The peace I'd felt from before remained, replacing the hurt. A nudge in my spirit reminded me what was expected. I breathed in deeply. Touched Minerva's hand.
“I forgive you.”
She looked up as I spoke the words. For a moment, her eyes seemed to soften. Then her face twisted. “You cannot forgive me. You're not my real sister.”
“What?” My heart beat painfully in my chest.
“I know your secret. Ruth told me everything. Even if I hadn't believed her, your ignorance that I was the one who betrayed you would have given it away.”
“That may be true, but it looks like you're stuck with me.” Tamping down the panic that rose in my chest, I glanced over my shoulder where Andrew stood, a few yards away. Had he heard Minnie's words?
“Where are they?” Tristan's muffled voice interrupted further conversation. I stood up and turned away from Minerva. I couldn't bear to look at Andrew. To see what he really thought of me.
My actions tonight were the icing on the cake. Even if Andrew had somehow managed to look past the fact that I'd helped birth the foal, there was no ignoring that I punched one of his mother's guests. Defending my sister or not, it wasn't ladylike.
“I'll escort you inside.” I barely registered Tristan's words, or that Minerva left with him.
I folded my arms across my midsection, trying to stave off the chill that had taken up residence with Minerva's last words. I really didn't want to go back inside and face that crowd again. Maybe I could stay out here until they all left.
Andrew's shoe scuffed against the ground behind me. He cleared his throat. Did he have to be so polite? I wished he would just disappear. Then I wouldn't have to face him.
“We should probably go back inside,” I said. I turned to find him only a few feet away. The moonlight cast angular shadows on his face. He was smiling. The rogue.
“I wish to have a word with you first.”
The urge to escape made my toes tingle. He couldn't have anything good to say after tonight's shenanigans. “Andrew...”
He came closer. His smile faded. “Please.”
With a broken nod, I allowed him to take my arm and seat me on the stone bench. He slipped off his coat and laid it over my shoulders. Our shoulders brushed when he sat down.
“Let me see your hand.” He took the one that still throbbed and began to slip off the white elbow-length glove I wore. Heat from his palm grazed my skin.
He brushed his thumb over each of my knuckles before tilting his head to appraise my face. “I don't suppose you considered that you could have been harmed before you rushed in to rescue your sister.”
“No.” I could barely get the word out past my trembling lips.
“Of course not.” He raised my hand to his lips. The gentle pressure of his kiss against the forming bruise was like nothing I'd ever felt before.
His eyes held mine and seemed to be sending me a message, but it must've been coded because I couldn't decipher it. I looked away, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
“I know it wasn't the proper thing to do. I'm sorry for ruining your parents' ball.” I tried to pull my hand from his grasp, but Andrew only held tighter. “I don't mean to keep causing trouble. It just sort of... follows me around.”
“Your sister may not appreciate you at this moment, but she will.” He touched my lowered chin, raised it. His thumb skimmed my jaw. “As I do.”
I gasped and raised my eyes to Andrew's face, only to find him leaning closer.
“Wait.” I tried to stop him with a hand to his chest. It didn't work.
He just took my other hand in his and murmured, “I have waited a lifetime.”
His mouth covered mine with gentle fervor, firm but undemanding. New tears sprang up behind my closed eyelids.
I kissed him back.
He withdrew too soon. His hands moved to my shoulders and he brushed another kiss against my temple. “Mattie,” he whispered. “I have long dreamed of someone like you.”
Shaken, I let out a strangled laugh. “A bluestocking?”
He pulled me closer. The stubble on his chin rasped against my cheek as his head lowered. I couldn't help myself. I raised my face and met his kiss again.
Love welled up from the deepest crannies of my heart. So much so that I could no longer contain it. I wrapped my fingers in Andrew's shirtfront and eagerly let my lips speak for me. When I pulled back, breaking the kiss, he pressed his cheek against mine.
Andrew spoke first, his voice coarse. “You're no more of a bluestocking than my mother. You're strong. You fight for what you believe in and for your family.” He paused, took a breath. “I wish to marry you.”
Marry me? Andrew wanted to marry me?
Words wouldn't come out of my suddenly dry mouth.
“Will you accept my hand?”
I swallowed. Andrew deserved to know the truth if we were going to spend our lives together. “There's a lot you don't know about me.”
“I know enough. I love you.”
The words seeped inside me, filling all of the places that had been broken before. God, please. Let it be real. “Say it again.”
His mouth came down on mine, firmer this time. “I love you. Marry me,” he said against my lips.
My heart insisted there was only one answer.
“I will.”
###
Two
months later, we said our vows in the same little church where Andrew had once humiliated me.
Before the wedding, I told Andrew everything. My life in Oklahoma. My background as a blacksmith and veterinary student. Jared and Hannah. It took some convincing to make him believe I was not the original Matilda Briggs, but with help from Minerva and Ruth, he came around.
And he still married me.
Who knew that true happiness wasn't limited to a certain century?
Or that scandals could be overcome, if you knew the right people.
Most of all, who knew that forgiveness could lead to the sweetest love of all?
The End
SNEAK PEAK – MARRYING MISS MARSHAL
The report of a rifle echoed through the red-walled canyon, ringing in Marshal Danna Carpenter's chest. A second report sounded close after the first.
She reined in her mount and pushed back her Stetson, instantly alert and scanning the area for trouble.
The shots could've been someone hunting game—although there wasn't much of it to be found in these washed-out ravines southwest of town—or it could've been someone discharging their weapon for a more nefarious purpose. As town marshal, she had to be prepared for both possibilities.
Danna's horse shifted beneath her, its movements telling her it sensed something wrong as well. But what? Then she saw him, in the last rays of sunlight slipping over the canyon's edge. A man staggering along the canyon floor, booted feet dragging in the sandy soil. He carried some kind of luggage over his shoulder. From this distance, she couldn't see a rifle….
Too far away to determine his identity, Danna guessed she didn't know him. His clothes were too fine for these parts—dark pants, vest, jacket, and a bright white shirt. Most folks around here wore woolen trousers or denims, and plain cotton shirts.
Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed Page 13
