Irish Linen

by Candace McCarthy

  She raised her chin. “I’ll repay you,” she said. She looked ahead, firming her lips.

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  She turned to glare at him. “I’ll not take your charity again, Mr. Ridgely.”

  He scowled at her. “The cloak wasn’t charity, Meghan. It was a gift.”

  After several seconds of thought, she nodded and relaxed. “Thank ye.”

  “Now was that so hard?” he asked. A smile played about his sensual lips as he returned his attention to the horse. “Let me buy you dinner, because it pleases me to do so.”

  “You’re very kind,” she mumbled beneath her breath.

  Lucas chuckled. “I heard that.” He flashed her a grin. “It’s easy to be kind to you, Miss McBride,” he said, much to her pleasure.

  They left the city streets for a bumpy country road that wound its way through fields and woods that had already taken on the rich hues of autumn. Meghan thought of the bustling dock in Philadelphia and decided she liked this scenery more.

  The muddy and rutted condition of the road made their pace slower than Meghan thought was necessary if they were to reach Somerville that evening. She glanced at Lucas and saw from his frowning concentration that he seemed concerned, too.

  But still the time and distance passed pleasantly until the sun set and the sky began to darken. Declaring that it was the supper hour, Lucas steered the carriage through a huge dip in the mud into the yard of a roadside inn. Meghan was glad, for her stomach was beginning to churn with hunger. Or was she nervous at the thought of not continuing the journey?

  As Lucas helped her step down from the vehicle’s step, Meghan eyed the old building with curiosity and pleasure. The public house was obviously a structure from another time. Built of stone, the building appeared to have been added to, as evidenced by the separate entranceway with its own porch and the different roof level of the edifice attached to the main house’s left side. The inn was quaint and welcomed Meghan as she absorbed the scenic beauty of a house nestled among trees bright with the season’s reds and yellows. Boxwoods planted near the two porches filled the air with their pungent, pleasant scent.

  “This inn is over a hundred years old,” Lucas told her. “The Pattersons refurbished the place, before opening it up again to the public.”

  She nodded. She felt like she was stepping back into a time when the public house had been a stop for the weary traveler seeking food and a night’s stay. How many people had sought refuge here from the cold and the wind? How many travelers had been comforted by the warmth of its hearth?

  “The food is particularly delicious,” Lucas said, his gaze moving from the house to her smiling face.

  “I’m glad,” she said. “I’m hungry.” And he chuckled.

  Meghan’s mouth watered as she anticipated a meal. It’d been the evening before since she’d eaten, and she’d been too excited to break her fast with her cabin mates that morning.

  Lucas secured the horse, and then with a warm hand at her back, he guided Meghan up the porch steps and inside the front foyer.

  The atmosphere within the eighteenth century inn was one of comfort and peaceful quiet. The staircase in the foyer curved upward to the second floor, its mahogany handrailing dark against its white painted spindles. An Oriental rug covered the wooden floor that was obviously well cared for. A vase of flowers sat on a table polished to a high sheen. Her gaze wandering left, Meghan caught sight of the next room and a portrait of a distinguished-looking gentleman that hung above the fireplace.

  She studied her surroundings with pleasure until someone came to greet them.

  “Lucas!” A tall, thin man came forward from a room at the back of the house. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “John,” Lucas said, offering his hand. “You know I can never resist passing through without sampling some of Anne’s cooking.”

  The innkeeper’s eyes fell for a brief moment on Meghan. “You’ll be staying the night?”

  Lucas nodded. “I’m afraid we’ll not make our destination this night. It’s too late to continue. The roads are terrible.”

  John agreed. “We’ve had three full days of rain the early part of the week,” he said.

  Her heart thumping, Meghan shot Lucas a surprised look. Why hadn’t he said something to her sooner? Her skin began to tingle as she realized that he was just being reasonable. It was late, and the road was in deplorable shape. For them to travel at night would not only be foolhardy but dangerous.

  Still, she had no money. How could she expect Lucas to pay for two rooms?

  He would have to, she thought. She certainly wasn’t going to share with him!

  Lucas knew that he’d surprised Meghan with his intention to stay, but he had considered their options, and staying at the Pattersons’ presented the safest and wisest thing to do. He drew Meghan forward to meet his friend. “Meghan, this is John Patterson. John, this is Miss McBride. Meghan McBride. I met her on the Mary Freedom. We’re traveling together.”

  He felt Meghan tense. “I’m afraid her fiancé left her stranded in Philadelphia.”

  “Oh, you poor dear!” a feminine voice exclaimed, and a short woman with an ample bosom hurried forward to greet her guests. “Good day to ya, Lucas,” she said quickly, before turning her attention to Meghan. “Who do we have here?” she asked.

  Lucas performed the introductions. The woman was John’s wife, Anne Patterson, with hair the rich color of chestnut. Anne wore a gown that was neat, well made, and protected by a white apron. She wiped her hands on her apron before she extended one to Meghan, who accepted the greeting.

  “Are ye hungry?” Anne asked.

  Meghan nodded, her eyes widening at the woman’s accent. “Ye’re from me homeland,” she said. “Where?”

  Anne smiled. “County of Cork.” The corners of her mouth rose higher when she heard Meghan gasp. “Aye,” she said sofdy. “Me grandmother spoke of the McBrides.” As she talked, she gently urged Meghan toward a lovely part of the room where a table sat near a back window. She paused and glanced back. “Aren’t ye coming, Mr. Ridgely?” she asked.

  Filled with amusement over Anne’s mothering of Meghan, Lucas nodded and followed closely behind with the woman’s husband. His enjoyment of the situation grew as he continued to eavesdrop while he waited for Anne to move so he could sit down.

  “Ye said yer da passed away?” Anne was saying.

  “Aye,” Meghan said.

  “Oh, ye poor lass! Come to America all by yerself! Why it must have been a frightening experience for ya.”

  Lucas stifled a smile as Meghan met his gaze and blushed. “Meghan is a strong woman, Anne.”

  Anne spun suddenly as if just remembering that he was there. “Oh, for certain, she must be!”

  “Allow Lucas to be seated, wife,” John Patterson suggested softly. “The man’s recently crossed the sea as well.”

  The woman nodded and moved aside, and Lucas was able to sit across from Meghan. Anne clucked and fussed over the two, seeing that they were comfortable, before leaving to prepare their meal.

  John stayed behind for a moment to apologize. “Anne means well, but she can be a bit overbearing.”

  The sight of Meghan’s smile nearly took Lucas’s breath away. “Your wife’s lovely,” she said. “She reminds me of me late mother.” She blinked several times and then looked down at her place setting, before lifting her gaze “Made me feel welcome, she did.”

  Lucas nodded, his gaze on Meghan. “You don’t have to apologize to me, John. You know how I feel about Annie.”

  With a few murmured words about helping his wife and seeing to their rooms, John poured each a glass of water, then left, leaving Lucas and Meghan alone. The dining hall was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Lucas’s explanation of their situation followed by John’s assumption that they would need two rooms instead of one made Meghan relax and study the common area.

  Like the foyer, the room welcomed her with warmth. A fire burned on the hear
th, and the flaming wood crackled and popped, occasionally shooting sparks as a log readjusted itself. Wooden tables, able to seat one to several diners, were set up about the room in a way that allowed the guests the most comfort and enjoyment of their meal. But even as she became absorbed in the contents of the room, Meghan was extremely aware of the man seated across from her.

  “Do you like gardens?” Lucas asked, intruding on her thoughts.

  “Gardens?” she echoed.

  “Plants? Flowers?”

  “Ave,” she breathed. “I like flowers.”

  “Take a glance out that window then.” Lucas leaned close, and she was conscious of his nearness as he pointed past her glass toward the carefully arranged shrubbery outside. “It’s not as colorful now as in the spring and summer, but it’s impressive.” She could smell his clean scent. A curling heat started in her midsection and spread lower. She forced her attention to the outside.

  The garden was breathtaking to Meghan. Shrubs had been planted in short, evenly spaced rows and in an attractive square border around an herb planting. Bright orange and yellow mums added a splash of color to the rows of green.

  “It’s lovely,” Meghan said, remembering the freshly cut flowers in the front foyer.

  “As Anne is?” he teased, and she blushed. “A lovely woman with a lovely garden, eh?”

  She nodded. “You’re poking fun at me,” she accused.

  His smile vanished. “I’d never do that, Meghan. I think too much of you.”

  Her heart began to thud harder as she looked away to refocus her gaze on the garden. The sky was a dark backdrop streaked with gold and orange from the already set sun. Meghan decided she liked America.

  “Does Anne grow vegetables, too?”

  “Yes,” Lucas said after a moment’s hesitation. “She grows and cooks them to make her delicious side dishes.”

  Something in Lucas’s tone made her glance his way again. “Lucas, about the room—”

  “We can’t leave, Meghan. You must realize that.”

  She looked down at the table. “I know, but—”

  “I can afford it,” he said. He made a sound of annoyance. “We’ve been through this before.”

  Her gaze met his. “It’s just—how can I ever repay you?”

  “Have I asked to be repaid?” His tone rumbled with the threat of anger.

  “No—”

  He grabbed her hand. “I want you, Meghan. I admit it, but I’m not intent on exacting payment!” He released her fingers and sat back, shaking his head. “I want to see you safely to Somerville … that’s all. I want you to be safe.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Hearing him openly discuss his desire for her had made her gasp, but then his words that followed had made sense. And she believed him. He’d never given her cause to doubt him.

  “But if you’d like me to cancel one room …” His voice trailed off softly.

  “Don’t! Please,” she cried in a whisper. “You promised!” And then she saw his teasing expression.

  His eyes danced with mischief. But then he gave her a crooked smile that made her wonder if he had, in fact, been joking.

  “Did I?” he said. “Ah, right, I promised to behave, didn’t I?” He drank from his glass of water. “Tell me about your fiancé.”

  Meghan was taken aback. “Why?”

  “Because I’m curious.”

  She didn’t want to talk about Rafferty and their betrothal. Not when she was here with Lucas. It’d been a long time since she’d seen her father’s friend. It was hard at times to remember what Rafferty looked like.

  Lucas seemed determined to pursue the subject, so she sighed and relented. “I’ve known him all me life,” she said, hoping he’d be satisfied enough to put an end to the discussion.

  “You’ve known each other since you were children,” Lucas said.

  Meghan stared down at her empty plate. She’d known Rafferty since she was a child, but to her, Rafferty had always been a man. “Yes,” she lied.

  “Is he attractive?”

  Her stomach turned over. “Yes,” she said after a brief pause.

  “I see.” Something in his tone drew her attention.

  “Why are you asking me this?” she asked.

  His gaze held hers, deep and dark with banked passion. “I want to know about my competition.”

  Meghan frowned. “There is no competition. I’m an engaged woman. Rafferty and I are going to marry, so please stop suggesting otherwise!”

  “You’d be happier with me.”

  She pushed back her chair and stood. “Is that why ye brought me here? So that ye could change me mind?”

  “Sit down, Meghan,” he commanded. “I’ve already told you why we’re here.”

  She plunked back onto her chair. “I told ye I’ll not be beholden to ya. I’m grateful for your help, but I’ll not let it change how I feel.”

  His voice was soft and sultry when he spoke. “How do you feel?”

  “Like you’re pressing me,” she hissed. “I love Rafferty, and I’m going to marry him. Nothing ye can say or do will change me mind!”

  “Is it me that concerns you?” he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “Or are you worried about yourself?”

  Meghan glanced away. Was it Lucas’s actions that worried her? Or was it her own weakness and response to him?

  “You’ve made your choice, Meghan. I understand this.” He grinned. “Can’t blame a man for trying, can you?”

  She stared at him as if he’d suddenly gone mad. “You’re crazy,” she said, voicing her thoughts.

  His smile was crooked. “Crazy for you.”

  “Lucas.”

  “I apologize, Miss McBride. I promise to behave myself from here on.” He placed his hand over hers where it lay on the table, and Meghan was startled by the contact. “And I want you when you’re willing, not because you feel beholden to me.”

  She pulled her hand from under his. “I’m not interested.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

  The arrival of John with their meal saved Meghan from having to lie again.

  Nine

  Lucas kept his promise. He was the perfect gentleman throughout the meal, and the subject of Meghan’s fiancé never came up between them again. They spoke of light topics … the weather in Delaware and about Dover, which was in the center of the state and nearer to Lucas’s home. Soon, they had consumed their meal of baked chicken, vegetables, potatoes, and pie, and John was there to show them to their rooms.

  As she followed the two men, Meghan found the second floor as inviting as the first. John led them to the end of the hail and opened the door.

  “This is your room, Miss McBride,” the innkeeper said. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

  “Thank ye.” Meghan peered inside and had no doubt that she’d be comfortable. The room was impressive and feminine with white walls accented with pillows and items in several shades of pink. A rose chintz counterpane topped the high-post tester bed. A floral pattern hooked rug in rose, blues, and greens on a background of ivory protected the wooden floor while adding beauty. There was a dressing table, a chair, a chest of drawers, and a washstand, all of cherry wood that gleamed with beeswax polish. In the center of the wall directly opposite was a door. She wondered briefly where it led, and then decided that it must lead to the attic.

  Her attention went back to the massive bed. She had never slept in a bed so fine, and she found herself looking forward to the prospect.

  “It’s a wonderful room, Mr. Patterson,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be enjoying me stay.”

  “John,” he said with a smile. “My friends call me John.”

  “John,” she repeated, and grinned.

  Suddenly, the innkeeper seemed uncomfortable as he turned to Lucas. “Anne insists that I give you your favorite room.”

  Sensing a new tension in Lucas, Meghan followed the direction of his’ gaze to the door on the far side of h
er room. She shot him a puzzled glance. Your room is through there?

  Interpreting her look correctly, he gave her a slight nod.

  “If you’re uncomfortable with the room—”John began.

  “The room will be fine, John,” Lucas assured him. He addressed Meghan, “I stay in the same room whenever I come to visit.”

  She watched with racing pulse as John walked through her bedchamber to the door that she’d thought led to the attic. The innkeeper opened the door to reveal another bedchamber obviously designed to accommodate a man.

  Lucas stepped inside and pretended to look around with satisfaction, but his thoughts were concerned with Meghan’s reaction to the news that he’d be spending the night so close. He avoided Meghan’s blue gaze; yet, he could feel her confusion, her trepidation. Murmuring all the right responses to John, he inspected the room and then returned to where Meghan stood.

  “I’ll get our belongings,” he told her in a quiet voice. He was angered by her look of uncertainty, but he wasn’t angry with Meghan. He was irritated with Anne Patterson for insisting he take his usual room.

  John’s apologetic look as the man had spoken about the room kept Lucas silent. He would not only hurt but insult the Pattersons if he suggested moving to a different bedchamber. John and Anne had simply been trying to please him.

  He and Meghan would just have to make do for the night, Lucas decided. No easy feat, he thought, to be so near her when he wasn’t allowed to touch.

  He followed John down the hall and stairs, then outside, leaving Meghan alone to her worry about his sleeping in near proximity.

  He could understand how she must feel, for he felt it, too. How could he sleep with only a single connecting door separating their bedchambers, and when the door had no lock?

  Perhaps we should have gone on to Somerville, he thought. Was it any less dangerous to play with fire?

  Sleeping so close to Meghan, recalling the taste of her lips and the warmth of her silky skin, he would definitely be tempting the devil in himself.

  As he thought of Meghan’s fiancé, Lucas’s blood began to burn. How could the man have left Philadelphia without her? Employment or no employment!