She leaned back and sighed. "I do not think I am defiant, sir."
"Do you not? Perhaps it is just when you are around me, then? Interesting."
"Well." She was considering his words as she replied, "I admit I do not like being told what to do."
"If you are around me, Merrie, you will have to learn to accept that. Is that understood?"
She was quiet.
"I realize I seem demanding."
She returned an expression of mock surprise.
In response, he threw back his head and laughed. "And firm-handed and…"
"Tyrannical?" she added.
This time, he nodded. "I am sure I appear as such. I am thirty-two, Merriwea— " He paused. "Merrie. And quite accustomed to being obeyed without question. I suppose it is a shock to realize that you do not willingly choose to obey me. And that is understandable," he said, glancing down at her. "To a point."
Merrie was clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "I do not suppose you would care to share where that point is, sir?"
"I shall do my best." He frowned. "Disobedience," he said, glancing down at her before continuing, "Goes without saying. Disrespect, as well. And defiance, my little girl, is a form of disrespect." She was scowling up at him openly and he added, "And so is scowling, stop it immediately."
She looked away. "I did not realize I was doing it."
"Your eyes, young lady, tell no lies. It is quite easy to know what you are thinking. And as I said on Friday evening, if I should marry you, it would do you no good to try to lie. I would know immediately."
"That is the second time you have said that, sir."
"The second time I have mentioned marrying you? Yes. It is because I am contemplating asking you. Very strongly."
She gasped. Her gaze rested straight ahead, a little above the horse's head, as he clip-clopped forward. She found herself unable to respond.
"Merrie," he said, quietly. "Six years ago, when your puppy got away from you and I scolded you—and swatted you—for it, you looked up at me with those beautiful blue eyes you have. Those eyes told me a great many things about you."
"They told you I was furious," she retorted.
"Stop it, young lady. They told me you were hurt because I reprimanded you. They told me you felt betrayed; they told me you had never been scolded before. I know that your mother considers you her best friend. And that your father dotes on you. I doubt you have ever had anyone threaten to discipline you. Other than me." When she did not speak, he continued, "Am I correct?"
Still, she was silent.
"Merrie? Answer me. I am waiting."
She looked up into his eyes, then back down. "Um…partially."
A brow rose. "Partially?"
"The headmaster at school took it upon himself to do it quite regularly, sir. At times, I thought he enjoyed it. I did not."
"I see." He frowned. "But that is part of why you were sent to school, is it not? To learn discipline?" He waited. "Merrie? Did you deserve it?"
"I suppose, sir." Her voice was small. "But—I truly do not wish to discuss this."
"On the contrary, Merrie. I think it is important, since I am thinking of marrying you—"
"I do not recall, sir, you even asking me!" She turned to him, her eyes flashing with fury.
Francis promptly pulled the horse to a stop. Reaching over, he took her by the waist and lifted her, placing her neatly across his lap.
"Francis! What are you—oh!"
He was now planting a dozen hard, stinging swats on her bottom, and she was crying out in dismay.
"Ow! Please, sir, let me go."
But he did not stop. Looking around to make sure no one else was on the road, she was pleading now, "Francis! Stop! Please!" When he did not but continued to hold her there, face down, she added, "Please?"
He took a deep breath and took her waist, sitting her back down next to him, hard.
"Now. Shall we try this again, my little brat?"
Merrie was at a total loss. She wanted to slap him, to curse him, but when she opened her mouth, the only thing that came out was a quite meek, "Yes, sir."
He glanced down at her, hard. "All right, then. And now that you have totally distracted me, little girl, I have forgotten what I meant to say." He paused a moment. "Oh. Yes. It was this. I had hoped they had instilled some discipline into you at the school. But now that you are home and I see the defiance first hand, I am beginning to realize you need more than what they have provided. You obviously will not get it from your father. Or from your mother."
Merrie did not argue, but sat, quietly. Inside, however, she was still fuming.
"So it appears the only discipline you receive will have to be given by your husband, when you marry."
"Then perhaps I shall choose not to marry."
Francis took up the reins once again, but not before staring down at her sternly.
"You may choose not to, young lady. That is up to you. But you will be choosing to throw away something that you need desperately. You have many things to your advantage, Merriweather Lynne Thatcher; Stunning beauty, inside and out. Intelligence; a tinkling musical laugh that instantly puts others at ease. Sympathy, loyalty, but most of all, you put others before yourself. Those are exactly the qualities I wish in a bride."
She was staring up at him, now, but too surprised to speak.
Francis continued to gaze down into her face. "Those eyes of yours have haunted me, my little girl, ever since you have been gone. I have adored you from a distance, waiting until the time you grew up and came home. I still do. The only thing I see in you that needs a bit of work, Merriweather, is the fact that you need a firm hand. And I am willing—and able—to give it to you. Take your time, little girl. And think it over." He flicked the reins so that the horse began moving forward and turned his gaze ahead.
"And let me know when you have made your decision."
CHAPTER 3
T hat was a proposal? Merrie had remained in shock, staring straight ahead.
His words often replayed themselves in her thoughts during the next few days. She was still thinking about what he had said, when her mother took her shopping the following week.
"The house should not take too long to build this time, Merrie. Your father and I have decided that we shall only build one story, this time. That way, if Bailey decides to burn it down again, your father and I can climb out the windows on the ground floor. Had we been upstairs and asleep when he knocked over the lantern, we perhaps would not have made it out. It went up so quickly, Merrie."
"It must have been extremely frightening…" Merrie was frowning.
They had stopped for tea, and her mother turned to her, intently. "Now, my darling. Tell me about Francis. Your father and I know him to be good and honorable. But I wish to know what you think, now that he has asked permission for your hand. Your father is delighted. But it is one thing to have a crush on someone you see as your hero, growing up, but quite another to be asked to marry him."
Merrie's eyes widened. "He is very…" She frowned. "Very Francis." A giggle followed. "He is very strict. And very determined that I shall obey him. But…" She frowned again. "But I truly have not given him an answer yet." She met her mother's eyes. They were crinkling at the corners. "What are you thinking, my dearest mother?"
"I am thinking, my little darling, that he will be perfect for you. Perhaps he is strict. Perhaps he does demand obedience. However, just remember one thing, Merrie." She grinned at her daughter's wide eyes, before continuing, "A man who truly loves his wife will be strict and determined that she mind him." She added, her voice lowered, "Especially when it comes to her own safety. But a man who allows his wife to run wild and do as she pleases and does not care enough to discipline, does not really love her."
Merrie stared at her blankly. But her mother finished. "Now. That is all I shall say, my love. Next, I think we should go to the mercantile. Your father and I are dreadfully low on clothes, because of the fire."
/> IT WAS THAT AFTERNOON, that Merrie began to notice the presence of a strange person in town. An older woman had stared in through the window at her, as she and her mother were having tea. But when she had pointed her out, Marilyn Thatcher had looked, only to find her gone.
It happened again, as they were crossing the street. Again, when she turned, the woman turned away and began walking in the other direction. Later that afternoon, it happened once again. This time, when Merrie looked at her, their eyes met only briefly, and she turned toward a store window.
Merrie took her mother's arm. "Who is that woman?" she said quietly, nodding.
"She is a nurse who works at the clinic, Merrie. There is a lot of speculation surrounding her. I have even heard rumor that she is a witch and that she is involved in the disappearance of young women in town. But your father and I believe it all to be just rumors, Merrie. Gossip is an evil thing, my darling. It can ruin one, easily. Why are you asking?"
Merrie looked up, frowning. "She seems to have been following us. This is the third time I have seen her looking at me."
But Marilyn only hugged her. "It is most likely coincidence, my darling. However, if it worries you, make sure you have a chaperone when you and Carlotta go places."
Merrie nodded. But once more that afternoon, she looked up to see the same woman watching her from just down the street. This time, when Merrie met her eyes, she turned a corner and disappeared.
"How odd…" she murmured.
Marilyn Thatcher paused. "What is odd, my darling?"
Merrie only looked up and smiled. "Nothing, Mother," she said. "Nothing."
That afternoon, however, after leaving her mother at Aunt Syl's, Merrie walked down the street toward the General Store. She glanced up at the sky, realizing the sun was rapidly sinking now. Lottie was to meet her there in a half-hour, but the General Store was still two blocks away. She heard a carriage pull up behind her and stop. And then footsteps were behind her on the walk.
Merrie was too afraid to turn around and look. Her pace quickened, so did her heart and her breathing.
So did the pace of the steps behind her. Merrie took a deep breath and began to run. She was breathing hard now.
An arm snaked around her waist and she took a breath, prepared to scream. Her face blanched, as she was lifted completely off her feet.
"And just what do you think you are doing, young lady?" Francis' deep, scolding voice said in her ear. "Where is your chaperone?"
"Francis!" Relief covered her like a glove, and she turned, melting against him, throwing her arms about his neck. "I was so afraid!"
"Merriweather? Answer me, young lady. Have I not told you to have a chaperone when you are out?"
"I was—with my mother, Francis. But it got late and Aunt Syl gets upset if they are not there in time for supper, and—" When she met his eyes, she became abruptly silent.
Francis continued to stare down at her. "Merrie? Why were you running from me? What is it that had you so frightened?"
Merrie realized they were standing in town, embracing. "Francis," she whispered. "It is not proper etiquette for you to be holding me—"
"Etiquette be damned," he said, furiously. "I shall not release you until you answer."
She met his eyes. "Perhaps it is just my imagination, sir, but it has seemed that a lady has been following my mother and me today."
The expression on his face turned from anger to alarm. "Describe her."
"Older, a large lady…black hair in a bun…my mother said she is a nurse—"
She got nothing else out. Francis turned her and lifted her into the closed carriage, setting her down and putting his hands on her shoulders.
"What else did your mother say, Merriweather?" he demanded.
"She said there were rumors about her being a witch, but that she and father did not believe them—and she mentioned the rumors that the woman was involved in the disappearance of…" She looked up. "But she said gossip is a terrible thing. She really did not seem concerned, sir. But after I left, when I heard the carriage and then footsteps…I became frightened. I did not realize it was you."
"I should have called out." When Merrie looked up into his eyes, she saw dismay there. A moment later, he said, "I shall ask again, Merriweather Lynne. Where is your chaperone?"
"I am supposed to meet Lottie at the General Store at five, sir. She is coming to pick me up with her groom."
Francis leaned out the window. "Jackson? Four blocks down. Stop and then turn and come back to the General Store."
Merrie looked uncertainly up at him. "Why would the woman be following me, sir? I do not even know her."
"I shall show you, Merrie." He became silent, and when Merrie searched his eyes, there was alarm present; she could see it plainly.
A moment later, Jackson stopped the carriage. "Look, Merriweather. Two blocks down. Do you see the building down at the end, on the left?"
She nodded. "I do not think it was there when I left home, sir."
"You are quite right, Merriweather. It was not."
"What is it? There are no signs."
He turned her to face him, as the carriage once again began moving. "Do you know what a brothel is, my little innocent?" When her eyes became huge, he nodded. "I see by your eyes that you do. Those rumors, little girl, seem to be more than just rumors, despite your mother's determination to disbelieve gossip. And that woman may well have been stalking you. Do you understand me?"
Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips nervously. "But, sir—I—she—you do not think—"
"The truth is, Merriweather Lynne, I do not know. But this disturbs me greatly. If I cannot trust you to be protected with your parents—or with Carlotta's family—I shall provide you a chaperone from my estate. No arguments. One shall be assigned to you—until you decide either to marry me— or to marry someone else. I shall not have you unprotected, my little girl."
Merrie searched his eyes and took a deep breath.
"You would do that, sir? For me?" she whispered.
"Not 'would,' Merriweather. Shall. I shall send a chaperone over early tomorrow, to Carlotta's, to accompany you whenever you leave the house. I have a groom, whom I would trust with my own life. He will protect you with his. And although you will have to get used to having him follow you, my little girl, it is necessary. His name is Gleason. He is large and a little fearful for those who do not know him well, but he will be trustworthy. You shall also need Carlotta with you or another female. Do not go anywhere in town without both of them." His hands tightened on her shoulders. "Do you understand what I am saying, Merriweather?"
She looked up, nodding. "I do, sir."
When they pulled up in front of Mr. Greene's store, however, Merrie turned to Francis and put a small hand to his cheek. "Sir?"
He took her hand in his, kissing it lightly. "Yes, little innocent?"
"Do you still…" She gulped. "Do you…still wish to marry me, sir?"
"Absolutely, my little miscreant. Have I said anything to indicate otherwise?"
"No…"
He brought his hands to rest on her shoulders, bringing her to face him, and tilted her chin upward. "I have spoken to your father. I have his permission. The only answer I am waiting on is from you, young lady."
She nodded, meeting his eyes.
Francis looked down into her eyes and waited. "Merrie?"
"Yes?" she whispered. He was so close.
"Am I going to be ninety before I hear it?" His smile was gentle now, and she began to giggle.
"The answer, sir," she said softly. "Is yes. I shall marry you."
He said nothing for a moment, searching her face.
"Merriweather, do not say yes because you feel obliged. I shall provide protection for you regardless of who you marry. If you say it, do so because I am the one you truly wish to marry."
Merrie put a finger on his lips to silence him. "I wish to marry you, Francis." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly. "Only you."
Francis picked her up completely off the seat and kissed her firmly. "Ah, my little girl. That is indeed what I had hoped to hear."
Mr. Greene came to the front door and peeked out, and Francis leaned forward to glance toward the town clock in the distance, frowning It was now five o'clock, and Carlotta's carriage still had not arrived.
"Is everything all right, Francis?"
"Yes. Go ahead and lock up, sir. I am waiting until Carlotta gets here with her carriage to take Merriweather home."
Mr. Greene nodded, smiled, and closed the door, and Francis returned inside, with a severe scowl. He tilted up Merrie's chin so she was forced to look up at him.
"And if I had not come, my little disobedient girl, you would be waiting out in the chilly night air. Alone." His voice was a growl, now. "And unprotected."
IT WAS fifteen minutes before the carriage showed. Francis made no attempt at hiding his displeasure. Lottie was extremely apologetic, but Francis explained that he was sending protection to follow Merrie and someone to guard the house at night, for at least as long as Merrie was there. He then followed them home.
And the last thing he had done, as he set Merrie down on her feet, out of the carriage was to kiss her firmly, and to say, "Merriweather, Gleason shall be here in the morning. If he sees anything at all unusual, we may need to make the ceremony very soon. I hate to do that to you; I wished to be able to wait on the date you chose. But I cannot truly protect you unless you are under my roof." He paused to kiss her forehead. "And under my wing."
She had leaned upward, on her tiptoes, to wrap her arms around his neck.
"It is all right, Francis. I shall do whatever you think best."
Francis had gone inside to approach Carlotta's parents, explaining why he was sending someone to tag along when Merrie was away from home.
They had agreed; at the same time, they had seemed genuinely surprised, and Francis had left, feeling frustrated. Were they not concerned for their own daughter's safety, let alone Merrie's?
That was another reason to send Gleason. Elias would be guarding the house at night. They were two of his most trusted men.
Merrie's Hero Page 3
