by Karen Kirst
He cleared his throat. “I hope she isn’t coming down with anything.”
Alice smiled at his consideration. “I think this is more a case of getting to bed later than usual. My middle daughter tends to become engrossed in her sewing projects and lose track of time.”
Quinn would dearly like to see her in such a state. Would she be as impeccably neat as usual, not a hair out of place, or would she be rumpled, raven locks haphazardly tumbling about her shoulders as she lost sense of time and place?
Encouraging himself to keep his thoughts on the right track, his gaze fell on a familiar blue box of chocolate-cream drops perched on the pie safe ledge.
“Nicole favors those, doesn’t she? I didn’t think she had much of a sweet tooth, but I’ve noticed she can’t get enough of the cream drops.”
Jessica and Jane exchanged a doubtful look. Alice’s brow screwed up as she placed a bread loaf in the basket. “Nicole doesn’t often indulge in sweets.”
Jessica went to examine the box, pulling it down from the shelf. “I didn’t notice this was even here.”
Confused, Quinn said, “Could she have brought them home for you?”
Even as he said it, the feeling in his gut said something wasn’t right. Nicole had purchased no less than four boxes in the past two weeks. They weren’t expensive, but they weren’t cheap, either. She wouldn’t have gotten them for the sole purpose of forgetting them on a shelf.
Jane shrugged. “If she did, she didn’t say anything.”
Alice patted Jessica’s shoulder. “Would you be a dear and carry this out to the wagon?”
Jessica hefted the basket, turning down Quinn’s offer to help. Untying the faded apron about her ample waist, Alice hung it on a hook beside the back door. “Would you mind if the girls and I went on ahead? I’d like to pick out a prime spot before the crowds descend. There are only so many shade trees to go around.”
“We’ll catch up to you.”
She patted his shoulder in a motherly gesture that had loneliness arching through him. He was surprised by how much he missed his mother’s hovering, as he’d called it, the questions that should never be put to a fully grown, adult male. Did you eat all of your breakfast? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you honestly planning on wearing that particular coat with that shirt?
Soon, he comforted himself. Soon he would make a decision about the land parcels he’d surveyed last week and get started on a permanent home.
After Alice and the girls left, Quinn wandered around the living area, a space overflowing with couches and furniture. They could do with a little more elbow room, he thought, touching a finger to the painting propped on the mantel.
“That was a gift from Rebecca,” Nicole informed him as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “It’s my favorite flower.”
Turning his back to the cold fireplace, he skimmed her neat-as-a-pin image and was hit with the strange desire to muss her restrained curls. “You look impeccable, as always.”
Taking in her lilac ensemble, he never would’ve guessed she’d been in a rush to get ready. She was as cool and composed as ever. In that moment, he made it his mission to upset that composure at some point today. Nicole O’Malley needed to learn to take life a bit less seriously.
“Thank you.” Double-checking the pearl buttons on her bodice, she craned her neck to see past the dining room. Silver earbobs winked at her earlobes. “Are they waiting outside for us?”
“Actually, your mother asked if we’d mind meeting them there. I believe she was anxious to claim a spot.”
“Oh.”
“Are you regretting volunteering to accompany me?”
“No,” she replied too quickly, jerking up her chin. “Are you regretting accepting? Our arrival won’t go unnoticed, I assure you. Hazard of small-town life.”
Striding forward, he took hold of her elbow and turned her toward the door. “I’m no stranger to gossip, Duchess.” Opening the door, he ushered her onto the porch. “Gossip is quite common in my social circles. Today I will be the envy of every man in attendance, young and old, because I have the loveliest lady in Gatlinburg on my arm.”
Nicole disengaged her arm and glared at him. “Were you born this way or is it an acquired affliction?”
“To what are you referring, my dear?” Quinn bit back a smile as her color heightened.
“The charm oozing from your pores.” She flicked a hand up and down the length of him. “Do they teach that course at Harvard? How to spout ridiculous flattery at will?”
He lost the smile. “Why is it so difficult for you to accept a compliment?”
This aloof, don’t-come-near-me attitude masked low self-esteem. Amazing that an accomplished young woman like Nicole could doubt herself.
His serious tone must’ve unnerved her, for she stormed down the steps ahead of him. “The church is a good twenty-minute walk from here. We should get going.”
Sensing her need for space, Quinn purposefully didn’t offer his arm as they walked along the serene, country lane leading to town. The silence between them was companionable, despite her irritation with him. He liked that they could be in the empty mercantile together and not feel the compunction to fill the silence with unnecessary conversation.
By the time they’d reached Main Street and he popped into the store for the lunch basket he’d ordered from Plum’s, she no longer looked as if she wanted to strangle him.
She did appear nervous, however.
Locking the front door and pocketing the key, he fell into step beside her. The church property was teeming with people. Food tables had been set up along the side of the clapboard building, the wide, grassy area dotted with blankets and clusters of people setting out picnic baskets. Fiddle music drifted down the street.
Another sigh reached him as they passed the post office, and Quinn cast her a sidelong glance. “You are wishing you hadn’t asked me, aren’t you? It’s all right if you’d rather go and join your family. I’m sure the reverend and his wife would allow me to join them.”
Nicole’s steps faltered. “It’s not that.” Thick, black lashes lowered to brush her cheeks. “I, uh, I’ve never had an escort before.”
“To the Independence Day celebration?”
“To anything.”
Quinn was hard put not to let his surprise show. The familiar drive to protect her arrowed through him even as an unwise sense of satisfaction took hold.
Passing beneath the branches of the outermost tree in the churchyard, he trained his gaze on the kaleidoscope of smartly dressed people. “Then I am indeed a fortunate man. I will warn you that I am not accustomed to sitting on the sidelines while others have all the fun. As you are my date, I expect you to join me.”
Nicole followed his gaze to the lively two-legged race being set up beneath the trees edging the property.
Panic rippled across her features. “Quinn, no.”
“Oh, yes.” He caught her hand as she made to escape, weaving his fingers through hers and starting in that direction.
She dug in her heels. “I don’t participate in silly games.”
“I didn’t peg you for someone who allowed others’ opinions to dictate her actions.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you honestly care what these people think about you?”
Nicole chewed on her lip, troubled violet gaze sweeping the crowds.
“Come on,” he cajoled, tugging on her hand, “you never know. You just might enjoy yourself.”
To his surprise and pleasure, she gave in. At the starting line, Quinn got the rope from the man in charge and, binding his ankle to hers, tried not to think about their first meeting and his ungentlemanly actions. The other contestants’ competitive smiles held unspoken questions. They were clearly intrigued by his and Nicole
’s participation, although whether due to her involvement or the nature of their relationship he hadn’t a clue.
Quinn counted himself fortunate no one had learned of their time in the springhouse. While he liked Nicole and was certainly aware of her as a woman, he wasn’t keen on marrying her. She was prickly and complicated. He preferred sweet and biddable. She was set on becoming a successful businesswoman. His heart’s desire was a traditional family.
Of course, searching for a suitable wife among Gatlinburg’s residents would have to wait until his house was built and his position in the community more settled. Occasionally spending time with Nicole—as friendly business associates—was perfectly acceptable.
As they hobbled to the starting line, he curled an arm about her petite waist and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Relax, Duchess. Put your arm around me.”
She grimaced but did as he suggested. “You think I don’t know you’re trying to annoy me with the nickname?”
He barked out a laugh. “You make it too easy.”
“And what is this exactly?” She waved a hand between them. “Trying to make me miserable?”
“On the contrary. I’m trying to get you to enjoy yourself.”
“This isn’t my idea of enjoyment.”
The pistol shot rang out. Nicole’s gasp was whipped away the moment he jolted them forward. Their progress was awkward, stilted, and they nearly landed in a tangled heap half-a-dozen times. Onlookers’ cheers spurred them on. Quinn didn’t mind that they didn’t win. Not when her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled like precious jewels.
Untying the rope, he pointed at her. “Is that a smile attempting to break through?”
“Not quite.” She gave him an arch look.
“Guess that means my work isn’t finished.”
Taking her hand again, he pulled her through the crowd to the rear of the church, where ladies were competing in a skillet toss.
“I’m not doing that.”
“What if I offered you a dollar’s worth of fabric?”
Her arms, folded across her chest, fell away, and she stared at him with parted lips. “You’re serious?”
“I am.”
“Make it store credit, and you have a deal.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
With a bracing breath, she tugged off her reticule and tossed it at his chest. He fumbled to catch it before it fell to the ground. “Minx.”
Watching her march up to the organizer, Quinn couldn’t swipe the goofy grin from his face. It remained for the next hour as he persuaded her to take part in musical chairs—which he won—a cakewalk and a sawing contest. They both worked up a sweat on that last one, and by the end he’d accomplished his goal—Nicole laughing freely, inky curls escaping their pins to caress her nape and excitement animating her features.
“I need a drink,” she panted, sagging against the solid oak trunk.
Quinn propped an arm on the nearest limb and leaned in, gingerly wrapping one of her curls about his finger. “I will procure you a drink just as soon as you admit you had fun.”
A light breeze rustled the green leaves overhead and skimmed their heated skin. Although people milled about the grounds, laughter and children’s shrieks and music filling their ears, here beneath this outlying oak it felt as if they were the only ones in attendance. Nicole had gone still. Watchful. Puzzling emotions swirled in her luminous eyes as he explored the texture of her hair.
The air between them thickened, weighted with awareness. He hadn’t realized how close their faces were. Her bow-shaped mouth, pink and soft, parted on a sigh. Quinn swallowed hard.
That wasn’t an invitation. Was it?
His heart picked up speed, pumping hard like it did in the midst of a fencing match.
She’s your employee, Darling. Hands off.
It wasn’t easy heeding the voice of reason. Not when she was warm and close, her expression open to him like never before.
“I, ah—” he awkwardly disengaged his finger “—suppose we should probably join your family. I’ve monopolized your time.”
She blinked. Color flooded her face. “Yes, that’s a good plan.”
As they traversed the dandelion-dotted field in silence, careful not to accidentally brush against each other, he wondered how much experience Nicole had had with interested suitors. Probably little to none, if he was her first date.
Quinn wondered if she’d meet someone special in the city, if she’d ever make room in her life for anything other than her sewing. It’d be a pity if she spent the whole of her life alone. Nicole had a lot to offer, even if she wasn’t aware of it.
He had never been in love. He’d thought he had something special with Helene Michelson. The daughter of millionaire Donald Michelson, she’d arrived in Boston with her parents eighteen months ago and had made an instant impression on him. Petite, blonde and outgoing, she’d shared his passion for athletic pursuits, eagerly joining him on horseback riding and boating excursions. After months of courting her in earnest, Quinn had begun to consider marriage.
That was before he overheard her talking with her friends. He’d learned she wasn’t as interested in being his wife so much as being a Darling. His name—and the status attached to it—had been her desired prize.
The revelation and subsequent breakup had spurred the beginnings of his shift in priorities. He didn’t want a superficial life. He craved something substantial. Something real. Lasting. Precious.
Luring Nicole out of her shell was fun, even fascinating at times, but it was a temporary distraction. She didn’t meet his requirements. And he certainly didn’t meet hers.
Chapter Twelve
What almost happened back there?
Thick grass snagging on her hem as they neared her family’s picnic spot, Nicole felt strangely let down, which in turn left her cranky and resentful. Inviting Quinn to join her had been a dumb idea. He took pleasure in pushing her out of her realm of comfort, teasing her all the while, prodding at her defenses until she was open and exposed and then...nothing.
She was a game to him. A shiny, new toy to explore and then discard.
Why am I letting him get to me, anyway? I’m not interested in romance.
Beneath all this pulsed an undercurrent of guilt. Here she was, freely attending a holiday celebration, while Patrick and Lillian were stuck in their meager shack, trapped there until the sun went down. Lillian would take such delight in the music. And Patrick would relish the food. He, especially, needed encouragement. Friends his own age.
This isn’t fair, God. I hate what they’re having to endure.
When they reached the soaring, wide-limbed sugar maple where her sisters and cousins and extended family members had gathered, Nathan’s wife, Sophie, took one look at Nicole and gaped. She elbowed Nathan, who was seated beside her. As a speculative smile creased his face, Nicole fiddled with her earbobs. Was her appearance causing this reaction? Her hair was a mess and she was perspiring. In public.
Or was it Quinn’s presence beside her?
Hopping up, Sophie made eye contact with Rebecca, who was relaxing against Caleb’s shoulder, and Megan.
Sophie reached her first. “Can I talk to you?”
“Um, I guess so.”
“If you’re ready for lunch, there’s a spot beside the twins.” Sophie flashed a smile at Quinn. “I won’t keep her long, I promise.”
Linking arms, the shorter girl led Nicole a short distance away, using a cluster of dogwood trees to block them from view.
Nicole spoke first, attempting to head off the coming inquisition. “That’s a new dress. Did you make it?”
Skimming her palms over the paisley skirts, Sophie blushed prettily. “I’ve been practicing what you taught me. Does it look all right?”
>
Nicole circled her, tugging here and there to test the stitches, satisfied with the way the cotton draped her form. Before Sophie married Nathan, she’d been a tomboy, content in men’s clothing and her honey-blond hair in a haphazard braid. Nicole had gladly aided in her transformation to stylish young lady.
“Your skills have improved. It’s beautiful. Your hair looks nice, too.”
Sophie beamed, fingers skittering over the sophisticated twist. “Nathan doesn’t mind whether I wear it up or down.” A dimple flashed. “Actually, that’s not true. He prefers it hanging loose so he can run his fingers through it.”
Nicole squelched the burst of envy. She absolutely was not jealous. “That would hardly be appropriate for an event such as this.”
Megan and Rebecca rounded the dogwoods, and Nicole found herself the center of attention. “What?”
Megan seemed to be bursting with curiosity. “You came with Quinn.”
“So?”
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “What’s not to like? He’s handsome, a true gentleman and the way he looks at you...”
“He’s my boss,” Nicole muttered, instinctively clamming up. “I only asked him because he hasn’t made many friends here.”
Rebecca gasped, jade-colored eyes going wide. “You asked him?”
“I can’t recall a time you ever gave a man the time of day.” Megan’s white-blond curls shone in the bright sunshine, her porcelain skin enhanced by the aquamarine hue of her formfitting dress. “Come on, sis. Tell us the truth. You fancy him, don’t you?”
Nicole could feel the emotion leaching from her face, could feel the ingrained response kicking in. Stay cool and deny everything, her mind was insisting.
Her and Quinn’s conversation that night in the springhouse came back to her. He’d been adamant in his opinion that others would like to get close to her. Sophie, Megan and Rebecca were family. How many times had they reached out to her, only to be rebuffed? It’s my fault I feel left out, isn’t it, God? Not theirs.
