He cupped her cheek and wiped at flakes of mud, even pretend ones—anything to study her longer and sort out his sudden fascination with freckles. She’d realize her mistake of dropping her guard soon enough, but not yet. Her baseball cap sat lopsided, and loose strands of her hair caught the faint lights of morning glittering through the trees in flames of red and gold. Striking. The cool air grew thick and lodged his breath in a stranglehold. Would her skin taste as minty as she smelled? His attention slid over to her mouth. Her lips lured him, full and round, like the other temptingly curvy parts of her. A blast of heat scorched his throat and he swallowed. Don’t look at her lips. Look at her ridiculous cap. There’s a chap.
Her eyes flickered open, bewitching him with their wonder, humbling with their questions. By slow degrees, her smile faded and a breath of apprehension tinted her countenance. I won’t hurt you.
He slid his thumb against her cheek before releasing her face. “Do you give a whit about yourself?”
She moved away, dusting at her jeans and jacket, and—if his gift of observation was still intact—avoiding eye contact. Which meant his heart rate might not be the only one at a gallop.
“Sure I do, when it matters. Cold water and jeans?” She blew air through her lips and started walking through the water. “That’s nothin’ a warm fire and a good washing machine won’t fix. Otherwise, I’m the queen of self-preservation. When it comes to my family or my heart, catapults and dragons wouldn’t stand a chance.”
She wavered, so he jumped to the rescue, steadying her with an arm to her waist. This ‘rescue’ bit was growing on him and taking up residence. Eisley Barrett needed a rescuer, whether she’d admit it or not, because she was the most trusting person he’d ever met. Possessiveness gripped him with purpose, and his gnarled doubts gave way to something much better. Hope. Even a knight with tarnished armor could still bear a hero’s heart, couldn’t he?
“I did warn you about my clumsiness, right?”
He tapped the tip of her cap. “We must get you home. Your bum is soaked through.”
“My bum?” Eisley repeated, trying to peer over her shoulder. “Oh, that bum.” She stepped onto the pebbled beach and leaned down to Mary. “Here you go, Miss Mary. You know what? I think a little bit of daydreaming wouldn’t hurt you one bit.”
Mary’s eyes danced. She snatched the doll and disappeared into the forest without a glance back.
“She’s forever getting into trouble, that one.” Wes nodded toward the little disappearing figure. “Her mum died about a year ago. It’s been difficult, but her dad’s a good fellow and she’s resilient.”
“She’s also adorable and her voice is so sweet.” Eisley pressed her hand against her chest. “Straight to my heart.”
Ah, he knew the feeling.
“Let me see you home.” Wes took her arm and steered her to the bridge.
“No way, buddy.” She pulled away and placed both hands on her hips. “I sacrificed my lovely five-year old jeans and practically all of my pride to see this spectacular view of Lornegrave Hall, and I plan to march my soaking bum up the next hill and do just that.” She pointed ahead of them and lifted a playful brow. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind company if you want to escort a soggy American”—she took off her hat and sunlit strands of hair fell around her face—“with mud on her favorite baseball hat.”
“You’re going to freeze, Eisley.”
She wrinkled up her nose and waved away his concern. “Nah, I’m a country girl, remember?”
Without another thought to his words, she started up the footpath, her easy strides accenting her long legs. Energy lit his pulse. Might this be the most important scene of his life, with a God-appointed costar? He rubbed a palm over his chin, gratitude tightening his throat. He wouldn’t miss this take.
“Stop smiling at my muddy bum and come on.” She gestured with her arm. “Who knows what other trouble I’ll get into? Aren’t there crags in England? Can you fall off a crag?”
Her voice drifted ahead and he ran to catch up with her, each step a little lighter than the one before. Rescue her? No, it was quite possible she’d be the one to rescue him.
***
“Oh wow, there it is.” Eisley relaxed against the rock wall and stared into the distance, assigning the memory a special place. Gray stone emerged from the pale blanket of morning fog, as mysterious as the haunting tales of Julia Ramsden. A few buildings of the same stone scattered along the hillside behind the manor house, all the way to a vine-covered hunting tower. It was ten times better than she thought. She snapped a few pictures with her phone and wondered if four hundred years had smudged Julia’s story into the shadows of history.
She took in a deep breath of winter morning. Had Julia ever climbed this hill to breathe in the cool air or watch dawn’s sunbeams filter through fingers of mist? What waited to be discovered behind those stone walls?
Birds broke the silence in chipper conversations. One, in particular, chirped with a loud staccato sound, like the high end of a violin string. Wes stood beside her, gaze focused on a horizon of clamoring morning hues painted over hills of layered emerald. A gentle smile parked on those creamy lips like he pondered some humorous thought. Maybe it was an inner chuckle at her poor ballerina skills in the creek. She cringed as the scene skidded back to her mind in humiliating brilliance. But Wes’s presence and a fresh wave of spicy man-scent wafted a pleasant distraction from her embarrassment.
His friendly conversation, his gentleness, slipped beneath her caution like Pete’s hand under the cookie jar lid. And all her grand and glorious spinsterhood self-talk landed at the bottom of the creek with her soggy backside.
Why had he come? Sure, she was hanging with his parents, and he might want to see them too, but didn’t he have movie star stuff to do? Far away? And definitely out of smelling-distance?
He caught her staring and raised a brow in question.
She shifted her attention back to Lornegrave, a scratchy heat climbing up her throat. “So…um…what brings you to Derbyshire?”
“I’ll travel back to London tomorrow for an audition.” He tilted his face to the sky and drew in a deep breath. “But Rose Hill settles me. It affords a peaceful contrast and lovely views.”
“It is beautiful. Uncle Joe would love it—the scenery, culture, and history.” She hugged her arms tighter around her shoulders. “The rolling hills are a lot like home.”
“I should like to see the Blue Ridge Mountains sometime, especially for my research.”
She grappled with her smile, but the thought of him with her big and crazy family set it loose. “I’m pretty sure it’d be an adventure, if nothing else.”
He lowered next to her, hand inches away. If she moved her pinkie over just a teeny bit, it would touch his. Hands and feet. Her crazy fascination. There was just something about his large hand next to her smaller one. Firm and protective. Tough but gentle. Hands told stories—strong enough to wield a weapon or slam a hammer, yet soft enough to caress the cheek of an infant or trace a woman’s face. The tactile memory of his thumb against her cheek, a tender stroke of skin on skin stirred a tremor.
“You think I can’t manage your…” He tipped his head. “Is it five or six siblings?”
She held up the appropriate number, if for no other reason than to move her numb fingers. “Six, but Rachel and Rick are my cousins. They came to live with us after their parents died in a car accident.” A trauma which sent Rachel into rebel mode. “They’ve been with us so long I just refer to them as my siblings.”
“And they all live in Pleasant Gap?”
“All except Brice.” Eisley rubbed her arms to warm herself and take the edge off the mention of her brother. Somehow, even his presence in a conversation made her feel inferior. He’d always been the perfect twin. “He has the Midas touch—smart, great at sports, brilliant at managing people. He moved to Charlotte after college and is co-founder of a computer software company there.”
“Is Charlo
tte far from your home?”
“About two hours, but Brice isn’t a frequent visitor.” Occasional might be pushing it, too. “He stays pretty busy in his job.”
Silence enfolded the moment, with occasional interruptions by the violin-bird thrown in. Maybe Wes couldn’t hear the disappointment in her voice about her twin. She was proud of him, really, but somewhere in the middle of all his perfection, he’d lost sight of his faith and his family—and she’d never quite measured up to him.
She studied Wes again, a bit in awe of the experience. “Do you think it’s weird you and I are sitting here in the middle of nowhere talking like we’re friends?”
He chuckled and crossed his arms in front of his chest so his jacket pulled taut over his shoulders. “Not at all. In fact, it feels comfortable.”
“Yeah.” She dropped her volume, talking to herself. “I think I like you even better as a real person.” Eisley’s breathing snagged. Oh no, no, no. Not a real person. She couldn’t think of him that way. Real? Attraction? Available? “You really should have a girlfriend, you know.”
“Should I?” He nudged her with his shoulder.
She closed her eyes and smacked her palm to her forehead. Yep, she’d said it out loud. “Sorry, that thought just popped right out.”
“Maybe I’m waiting for the right girl.”
What little warmth had been hovering in Eisley’s legs drained right out of them. “Wise man.” She rubbed her arms methodically to keep her heart steady. “I jumped in with both feet and didn’t even check for snakes.”
“Perhaps I should clarify. Now I’m waiting.” Sorrow flickered across his face and settled in his stormy eyes. “But I haven’t always.”
Right. She’d seen the tabloids. A lady’s man for sure—and quite the variety. “Did you fall in love with any of them?”
Wes winced and massaged a hand into his chest as if the statement hurt. Ack, there she went again, kicking the filter to the curb. She was clearly an Englishman’s worst nightmare.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t—”
“No, it’s a fair question, isn’t it? And another consequence of my choices.”
His penitent expression spanned the gap between them and wrung Eisley’s heart.
“I could blame a host of things, but they all boil down to pride at the center. After I watched my elder brother die of cancer when I was a teen, I rebelled against everything I’d been taught. Wealth, a sharp wit, and the wrong people fed my pride until I wallowed in choices to shame my parents.” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing from a swallow. “When I started university and my acting talent became clear, the attention fueled my inflated conceit all the more. A lethal combination.”
Sounded like her sister Rachel’s story, except for the acting bit. Had God changed Wes’s heart like he’d done for Rachel? She wasn’t the same—except for the wicked sarcastic streak.
“I fancied myself in love once, but the more time separates me from the situation, I realize it was a devastating pairing of arrogance and naiveté. I had the image, she had the connections.” He shook his head, his shoulders dropping forward. “We used each other to get what we wanted, and in the end, we both lost.”
The poor man looked like he was drowning in his memories.
She threw him a lifeline. “God rescues lost things, you know.”
His gaze fixed on hers. “Yes, indeed he does.”
“I’m sorry.” Eisley touched his arm. “Hindsight can slice as deeply as a harsh word, can’t it?” She watched the path of a bird gliding on a breeze across the valley, pain stinging deep. Hateful memories, bad reruns of all the stupid things one does. Yeah, she knew what it felt like to drown in them.
His silence whispered an entreaty to open her heart, his presence caressing her scars and encouraging more trust. She drew in a breath for strength. “I know all about naiveté and arrogance.” She forced a bitter laugh. “I believed in fairy tales. Thought a guy would love me for me, ya know?”
“As he should.”
The confidence in his quick reaction shot a shimmy down her spine. “At twenty-one, I wasn’t quite as clear on all the “shoulds” and “dids”. I equated passionate kisses with glass slippers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for passionate kisses.”
Without thinking her attention drifted to his lips. They twitched. Heat soared to volcanic proportions in her cheeks. She shifted her gaze back to the view. “But they’re all smoke and mirrors if you don’t have love. I’m not a halfway person, as evidenced by my grace and poise.” She laughed away a little of the former embarrassment. “If I’m gonna fall, I’m gonna fall hard. Marshall was handsome, charming, and we had fun together.” Her cold nose began to tingle with the warning of coming tears. “But once Nathan came along and I had to divide my time between Marshall and a newborn, everything changed. The first incident happened when Pete was about six months old. Marshall found a commercial break from the ‘noose of marriage’ in the arms of a college girl.”
“First incident? There was more than one?”
His compassion melted over her bruised spirit like butter on a hot biscuit. “Yeah, I picked a winner.” Her sigh came out as more of whimper. “I wanted my kids to see how important marriage was, to understand it wasn’t something you promised for just the good of it, but for all of it. God had forgiven me, over and over again…and as badly as it hurt, couldn’t I forgive my husband?”
“You took him back?”
Wes’s look of admiration spurned her forward. “I’m an eternal optimist I guess, or used to be. He was gone two weeks and crawled back, repentant and broken. Oh, how I wanted to believe he meant it. Things seemed to be working for a while.” Eisley massaged the tension in her neck, but nothing erased the memory burned into her mind. “One day, I came home early from work and found him in bed with a woman from my bible study. Another redhead. Younger, cuter, and from what I could see, she had nary a stretch mark on that perfect little body of hers.”
Wes released a low moan.
“He left and never made an effort to return. The next month I found out I was expecting Emily.”
Wes’s warm fingers slid over hers for a brief embrace. “And all of the hurt hides behind your lovely smile?”
And red-rimmed eyes at present. She flicked a tear off her cheek and worried her bottom lip through an apologetic sniffle. “You asked.”
“I did.” He gave her fingers another squeeze, a sweet reassurance. “I meant it.”
She narrowed her eyes with her smile. “I thought Brits steered clear of personal questions.”
“Until the subject becomes interesting enough to ask personal questions.”
Interesting? Charm, thy name is Wesley.
She wanted to believe him, but couldn’t. It didn’t make sense. “Why? Why would you care to know anything more about me than the fact I’m not going to steal your parents’ money or kill them in their sleep? In two weeks, I’ll disappear back into my normal world and you’ll return to your glitz, glamour, and hundreds of adoring fans. Why take this time?” She narrowed a look at him. “Unless you’re going for some old-fashioned comic relief, because I can give that in spades.”
He leaned back and examined her with his thought-stopping gaze. “Perhaps I’m looking for a friend.”
“You’re some rich and famous British guy. I’m a clumsy Appalachian single mom. It’s not exactly the first friendship pairing people expect.”
“Others’ expectations don’t concern me.” He gave her another measured look. “And at the heart, we’re not so different; both healing from past wounds, both hoping for something with more certainty in the future.” His grin teased her. “And if we’re honest, both a little curious about true love and all of that nonsense.”
She looked away, nowhere close to admitting any curiosity of the sort. “You’ve been making movies too long, mister. True love nowadays?” She graced him with an exaggerated eye roll. “There are no special effects in the real world, and we’ve both learned the
hard way the rewind button doesn’t work.”
“Ah, but there are sequels.”
“You are an optimist.” And she liked him better for it. Daggone it. She pressed her finger into his shoulder. “Here’s the deal. I’ll pray God sends you a Kiera Knightly look-alike to blend into your high-profile world and you pray”—she sobered— “You pray God helps me accept his possibilities.”
He pinched his lips closed in thought. “Here’s a better deal. I’ll pray God heals your heart and perhaps sends a friend to help you”—he tapped the end of her cap—“if you’ll push aside the whole actor part of my life and let me practice being that friend?
“You and me? Friends like regular people?” He had to be nuts.
“Acting is my job, not who I am.” He leaned in and stole her breath like a pro. “I could use the practice, and perhaps you could use the friend?”
Her pulse hammered a ‘yes’ in Morse code. Her brain screamed ‘beam me up, Scotty.’
Wes stood and offered his hand. “Would you be my friend, Eisley Barrett of the Blue Ridge Mountains?”
Her gaze moved from his face, to his hand, and back again. Sincerity? Confidence? A flutter of hope lodged like a football in her throat. Run Eisley, run. She swallowed down the lump and slid her cold hand into his warm one. “Friends.”
And nothing more.
His touch grabbed her all the way to her heart and hit the panic button. What was the point of self-talk if her body didn’t listen to it?
He pulled her up to her feet. “Fantastic. Now let’s get you home, my friend, before you freeze.”
He started his decent down the path, while Eisley tried to move her numb legs. Friends? An emotion kindled inside her, floating just beyond recognition. Wes waited up ahead, crooked grin in place, even the dimple poised in challenge. Somebody needed to slap a disclaimer on that smile—Warning! This man is dangerous. Especially for women who are trying their best to steer clear of knights in shining armor.
Just the Way You Are (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 1) Page 9
