Ella: an Everland Ever After Tale

by Caroline Lee

  Had she thought it shocking when Ian had accidentally brushed against her, earlier? When he took her hand in his, and turned it over to rub the pad of his thumb across her palm, Ella felt her knees give out. Thank the Lord she was already clutching the counter; it was the only thing that kept her upright.

  His touch was sending alternating waves of shivers and heat up her arm and across her chest. She felt her nipples harden against her chemise, and thought that she might’ve died of shame if she wasn’t already dying from sheer pleasure.

  But then his thumb traced the calluses at the top of her palm—years of gripping a broom—and on the tips of her fingers—cooking burns, mostly—and reality came crashing back. No matter how deliciously good it felt to be touched by him, it wasn’t right. He was a successful, respectable member of Everland society, and she… she was just Ella.

  She’d already revealed too much about herself, and knew from the pitying look behind those spectacles that he’d figured out her secret shame. Her family was wealthy, but she was treated like a slave—he was touching the callused proof right now.

  If he asked her anything else, if she answered any more of his questions, if he learned anything more about her… Ella knew that she’d start to dream the impossible. Dream of finally having a way to leave her family. Dream of Ian Crowne, offering to rescue her. Dream of marrying him.

  If he knew what she was thinking—dreaming—he would’ve locked his door with her on the outside. But now… now, she just wanted to make him smile again.

  Pulling her hand from his had the opposite effect, though. Good Heavens, he was handsome, with the faint freckles across the tops of his cheeks, even when he frowned. She wanted to smooth away the little lines at the edges of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, but couldn’t.

  Instead, she pulled down the large drawstring satchel she’d strung over one shoulder, and held it up. His lovely blue-green eyes followed it, questioningly. Suddenly, she felt shy, nervous about what she’d planned last night. “I brought lunch. Would you… share it with me?”

  Rust-colored brows shot up in surprise. “You would do that? For me? Sharing your food?”

  Ella shrugged, a little embarrassed that he was making such a fuss over it. He didn’t need to know that she’d made extra fried chicken last night for just this purpose. “Of course. I have extra…”

  Was it her imagination, or did his eyes soften a little? She could feel his gaze caressing her face—could feel it even with her eyes closed!—and she loved the delicious little shiver that ran down her back. Apparently the promise of food was the way to make him forget other concerns. And that would be important to remember, except that Ella wasn’t sure if she’d be able to see him again after this. As it was, she wasn’t sure how much time Mr. Heyward would give her before he got bored and came into the store looking for her.

  “Yeah.” One corner of his mouth quirked up, and he didn’t look quite so serious anymore. “I’d like that a lot. Thanks.”

  She couldn’t help but admire the play of muscles across his forearms as he grabbed the rope overhead and the shelving behind him, and heaved himself through the back door of the shop. It really was ingenious, the way he’d arranged the store so that he didn’t need his crutch to get around; he could reach everything by balancing and supporting himself on the ropes, the rails, and the tables or shelves. Ian Crowne was an intelligent—and obviously very powerful—man.

  She slipped around the counter and followed him to the back room, where she found him turning over a barrel for an extra seat, and calling stern instructions to his dogs, who tried to climb all over her.

  Laughing, Ella fended them off, even though the largest was big enough to knock her over. “They’re probably just smelling the fried chicken.”

  “You made fried chicken?” Was it her imagination, or did he sound as eager to eat as she’d been to spend time in his company? “Shiloh, get down. That’s my chicken!”

  The big hairy beast that had been lying on the front porch during her last visit was trying to plant his front paws on Ella’s chest, but she managed to keep the satchel out of the reach of his jaws, laughing and pushing him away. Ian was laughing too, and had she thought his smile was nice? Goodness gracious; his laugh was pure Heaven!

  He finally hoisted himself onto the barrel, calling the dog to him with a whistle. “Shiloh! Come here, boy!” He pulled down a bundle from one of the shelves, and unwrapped a full loaf of bread. She watched as he broke off a piece for himself, and then a tore the remainder in half. Shiloh sat on his haunches and watched the loaf eagerly, and she giggled when Ian made the poor thing wait patiently. Finally, after a stare-down—it was amazing how the big animal did what Ian wanted, even without commands!—he relented, and tossed the larger hunk of bread to the beast.

  Ian seemed more relaxed back here than he’d been in his store, with her. “Sorry for his manners. He was hungry.”

  She’d sat in the only chair, and unpacked the food on the small table beside it. Fried chicken, cornbread and a miniature blueberry pie in a small tin were soon laid out, and she noticed that Ian was eying the meal hungrily as he apologized for his dog. She waved away his excuse. “The poor thing had to make do with bread when he could’ve had my chicken? No wonder he was fussing.” She noticed that Ian smiled over her boast, and that Shiloh seemed content to chew on his bread.

  Ian took the piece of cold chicken she passed to him, and shrugged sheepishly. “This is our usual lunch.” With his free hand he opened the bundle beside him on the shelf, and Ella saw what looked like salt pork or bacon, and a shriveled apple. “Dogs know they don’t get meat until dinner.” He’d looked like he was going to say something else, until he bit into her chicken; and then he just hummed in what she hoped was pleasure. She watched his eyes sink shut behind those spectacles, and he chewed in silence. Taking a bite of her own piece, Ella enjoyed watching him.

  Finally, he opened his eyes and pierced her with a serious look. “Miss Ella, I don’t think I’ve ever had chicken this good.”

  She covered her discomfort with the compliment by taking another bite herself. A hasty chew-and-swallow, and he was still staring, so she tried a smile. “It’s not that big a deal, Mr. Crowne.”

  “Ian, please.” She thought that she might’ve nodded, but it was hard to say, with her chest so tight at the regard she saw in his expression. “And it is a big deal. We’ve never had company for lunch before, especially not such pretty company. And the food is… well, it’s a welcome treat. Thank you.”

  Oh my. He had this way of staring at her that left her… stared at. It was like his glasses focused all of his intensity to one spot, which entered through her soul and settled into her stomach, where he made it hard to breathe. She was embarrassed by his praise, but also secretly thrilled by it.

  And now he was waiting for her to say something—anything—so she latched onto his last statement. “’We’? You eat lunch with the dogs every day?”

  He chuckled. “I do almost everything with the dogs. I’d end up eating dinner with them, if Mr. Spratt didn’t chase them out whenever they try to follow me.” Wasn’t Spratt’s the eatery she heard Eunice speaking about last year? Most of Ella’s knowledge of the town came from eavesdropping on her sisters’ conversations about their social engagements.

  She handed him most of the cornbread, loving the way that he enjoyed her cooking. It was nice to see someone appreciating her hard work… especially a someone as handsome as Ian. “So this big guy here is Shiloh—” the large dog lifted his head from where he was contentedly gnawing on the hard loaf and gave a little woof at hearing his name. “—and the little one is Manny.” Ian tossed the three-legged animal a bite of bread, and it yipped excitedly. Ella tossed her chin at the third animal. “Who is that?”

  The last dog was medium-sized, with big floppy ears, short legs, and a belly that almost touched the ground. It was chewing on another hunk of bread, and when it lifted its head, Ella could see the long gray hai
rs around its muzzle and chin. “That’s Vick. She’s a good old dog, aren’t you, girl?” The animal gave a half-hearted thump of her tail before going back to her meal, and Ian shrugged apologetically. “She doesn’t hear so well anymore. Among other things.”

  Ella had to laugh at his exaggerated eye-roll. “So, Shiloh—” another bark, “Vick and Manny?”

  “Vicksburg and Manassas.”

  “Ah.” Northern victories in the War. “You were a soldier?”

  “I was a quartermaster’s assistant with the 28th Pennsylvania in the Twelfth Corps.” He dropped his gaze to the chicken in his hands. “I thought that it would be a good way to use my skills.”

  “Were you a shopkeeper before the war?” Ella took another bite, but the food wasn’t nearly as compelling as his history.

  “Yeah. My parents owned half-interest in a store in Philadelphia. It was in my blood, and I figured I knew it inside and out.” He took a bite, and said around it, “Quartermastering was more fun than soldiering, anyhow. But…” He swallowed, and she could tell it was more than just his food. “But I guess I had to pick up a rifle someday.”

  Unbidden, her gaze dropped to his missing foot, wondering what kind of horrors he’d seen during those battles. When she glanced up again, he was staring at her, and it wasn’t a nice stare. He looked… bitter. Expectant. “After, I came home to try to learn how to do everything again, and I found that dogs were… helpful.” He tossed a piece of meat to Manny, who snatched it out of mid-air. Ian’s expression didn’t change. “I named my first one Culp, and the next gal to make her way to me was Getty.”

  “Gettysburg.” She’d read everything that she could on the battle where her real Papa had lost his life.

  His chin jerked once, agreeing. “It was a rebel sharpshooter who did this to me.” He thumped his right leg against the barrel he was sitting on, and Ella winced for him, although it didn’t seem to hurt. “Either he had the worst aim, or was on his way down already, or something.” Another bite, another moment of silence, another yip from Manny. “I felt the bones in my foot shatter. Actually felt them.”

  That’s when he looked at her again, pinning her with his stare expectantly, like he wanted her to react. “Maybe they could’ve done something, had I been in Philadelphia. But out there, the best they could do was cut it off and hope I didn’t bleed to death.”

  “I’m sorry.” What else could she say? What else was he expecting her to say? “You must’ve had to be very strong, to survive that.”

  He looked almost…disappointed by her observation. When he shrugged, she saw the muscles rippling across his shoulders and down his bare arms at the movement, and thought about his rails and ropes and crutch. “I was never a small lad.”

  “No, I mean…” She wiped her hands on the napkin she’d wrapped the bread up in, not sure how to make him understand. “I mean, you were strong. Your will, your mind. Your heart. That sort of thing broke lesser men.”

  “I was seventeen.” His whisper was so faint, she barely heard it, and had to look away so that he didn’t see the tears that came to her eyes at that admission. So young, to have endured so much! To overcome so much!

  She had to clear her throat before she trusted her voice. “But it didn’t break you. You came out here, started your own store…?” She had to change the subject, or she’d break down, thinking of his pain.

  “Not before losing everything in Philadelphia.” He sighed then. “My father died while I was gone, and my mother had to deal with a crippled son and half of a store. I had to get better to help her. She lasted another five years before she gave up, and I sold the share I inherited and saved up to come out here. There’s more opportunity out west, and I knew with all the settlers coming through, there was demand.”

  Ella passed him the pie. He took it without looking, watching her face. It wasn’t until he glanced down to see what he held that his expression changed, softening to an easy grin. “Blueberry pie? How’d you know my favorite?”

  “I guessed.” She stifled her giggle, pleased that he was smiling again. “I am impressed with your strength, Mr. Crowne.”

  “Ian.”

  “You have a successful store, Ian, and you’re living your dream.” If only she could live some of her dreams… maybe even the ones that involved him?

  At the word “dream,” Ian looked up sharply, the fork halfway to his lips. “You think this is my dream?” He looked around the small, cool storage room, down at the dogs at his feet, and at the pie in his hand, and he shrugged. “Well…” He finally took the bite, and his eyes lit up. “A beautiful woman bringing me delicious foods might be part of my dream, after all.”

  The sight of his lips, carefully pulling the bite of pie from the fork, had nearly made Ella faint. She was leaning forward in her chair, only a heartbeat away from touching him. “What’s the rest of your dream, Ian?”

  He was staring at her while he chewed, and as before, she felt it right to her core. What was it about this man that made her want to touch him? To know all about him? To dream with him? While she watched, he slowly put the fork and the half-finished pie down on the shelf beside his usual lunch, and wiped his hands on his trousers.

  Taking a deep breath, he watched her, as if struggling with a decision. His chest expanded, straining his gray vest until she thought the buttons might pop. Realized that she wouldn’t mind it at all, if she got to see more of the skin that peaked out at his collar. He rubbed the back of his neck, and swallowed. “The rest of my dream would be to have a partner. Someone who could help me in the store, bring in more customers, since apparently lady customers don’t like me on my own. Someone to talk things over with, and who’d give me an opinion, rather than just barking.” His lips twitched when he glanced at Shiloh, but his eyes quickly found hers again. “Someone to make a future with.”

  “It sounds like you want a wife.” The words were out before she could stop them, before she could tell herself not to be too forward, too desperate, too hopelessly attracted to him.

  But he didn’t smile. Instead, he nodded. “I’d never considered it, until recently. Until

  I—” Met me? But he didn’t say it. He looked away. “I want a partner who sees me, not…” He knocked his stump against the barrel again, and trailed off, as if he didn’t need to point out that he wasn’t whole.

  I see you, Ian Crowne.

  But she didn’t say it. Instead, they talked about his store, and his dogs, and his dreams. He asked her questions, and soon Ella’s head was pounding from trying to come up with new ways to not answer them. She didn’t want to talk about her life on the Miller Ranch; didn’t want him to know how different it was from the freedom he enjoyed. Didn’t want him to know that her stepfather’s man was waiting outside right now for her.

  Ian was strong, and committed, and kind to animals, and to a girl like Ella, he was a prince. She swallowed, ashamed of her sudden desire—desire for him, but also for what he could offer her. Was he looking for a wife? Would he ever, possibly, consider someone like her? Someone who could work hard, but didn’t know much beyond cleaning, sewing, cooking, and housekeeping?

  And was she being too presumptuous to even consider the possibility? He was a successful storekeeper who hadn’t said a thing about her more than appreciating she brought him food. She was a silly girl who dreamed impossible dreams.

  “I have…” She swallowed down her shame. “I have to go. To cook dinner.”

  “For your stepfather and sisters?” Why did he sound angry? She nodded warily, unable to think of a way to side-step the question. “Do they pay you? Do they help you?” She jerked her head again, but his voice—forceful and compelling—stopped her. “Do they?”

  She had no choice but to answer. “No,” she whispered.

  “You came here to buy them lace so that you could make them a dress, and now you’re going home to cook for them? Will you clean too?” His hands were fisted on his knees, and Ella sank lower in her chair, knowing that she h
ad to answer him, but unable to make her voice work. She nodded. “And what do you get from all of this? Their gratitude?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  Because I have nowhere else to go! But she couldn’t admit that, wouldn’t. Not to him. He was a decent man, and he would pity her. She would rather he admire her, or at least, remember her fondly. She couldn’t stand to know that he pitied her. So instead of answering, she began to gather up the remains of their lunch. There wasn’t much; Ian had eaten most of the chicken and half of the small pie.

  He watched her in silence, but when she stood to leave, he slid off the barrel, catching hold of her forearm. The heat that sparked from his touch stopped her, and Ella forced herself to swallow and meet his gaze. He stood a good six inches taller than her, but that didn’t intimidate her. In fact, she felt safe, standing beside him; felt protected by his broad shoulders and his strong arms.

  His hand ran down the length of her forearm, grasping her hand, and she shivered slightly. His expression was so serious, and not even the lock of rust-colored hair that had fallen over his brow distracted him. Instead, he squeezed her hand, and pinned her with the intensity of his gaze. “I’m sorry, Ella. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just… I wanted to know more about you.” Oh dear, she’d forgotten how to breathe. “You are a woman I’d very much like to know more about.”

  Licking her lips, she tried to get a sound past them, but no luck. Instead, she just nodded quickly, hoping that she could draw a breath before she passed out.

  He seemed to understand. “Thank you. Thank you for visiting me, and for sharing your lunch with me. It was the best meal I’ve had in a long while. The company ensured it.”

  Oh God. Now she had to add weak knees to her list of complaints. He was going to make her faint with his compliments and heated stare. Ella did the only thing she could; she pulled her hand from his and murmured “Thank you for the lace.”

  Then she turned and ran from the store.