Fate's Intervention (15 page)

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Authors: Barbara Woster

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Thank
s again. I guess I just treated him the same way I have every other suitor that

s come to call the past few years. Why should he be any different, right?


I suppose. I have to ask though, why are you running off suitors? Stanharbor I can see, but . . .


If you saw the suitors, you

d understand,

Marcelle interrupted.

S
tanharbor was actually one of the best that my
father
has been able to find. When I recognized him, I knew how rich he was, but not how powerful. My
father
used to be able to scare up at least one suitor a month, now I

m not so sure he

ll be able to find anyone at all.
A
fter
what
father
told me
combine
d
with
that little episode with you, I believe Stanharbor may indeed hold enough sway over people to scare them away from my doorstep permanently.

She shrugged as if it didn

t matter, but then her
father

s illness and her promise to find a husband in all haste reminded her that she should care, at least a little.

Nevertheless, what I did to him was nothing compared to what you just did to him

and his daughter. I only rejected
him
. In private. You, on the other hand, tore into his daughter and rejected her, and ultimately him, in a very public place. People are still strolling by giving
you sidelong glances, and giggling behind their hands

most likely at Stanharbor. It

s not every day that a prominent citizen like him has his hide chewed by a mere hired hand. He

s going to eat you alive.


Gee, thanks.

He

d been listening to her speak and was still trying to decide what it was about this young lady that was so terrifying to potential suitors. He

d only known her a few minutes, but
thus
far
,
he
determined she was
a witty, charming, if slightly strange individual. Still, if what she said was true, and Stanharbor was the best her
father
could do, then perhaps it wasn

t she that was the problem, but her
father

s choices. Curious.


Don

t mention it,

Marcelle smiled.

So
, what are you going to do for employment now? I mean, even if you hadn

t quit, that dressing down you gave Clifford pretty much ensures that you will remain unemployable for a very long time

in the state of Wisconsin anyhow.


You are just full of encouragement, aren

t you?

Matthew smiled grimly.


Well, I try,

Marcelle laughed.

Look at the bright side, you may be unemployable, but I

m most likely going to be permanently unable to marry. Thanks to my mental act.


You don

t seem
very
upset over that particular prospect,

Matthew observed with a wry grin.


I

m not, but I really should be,

Marcelle said.

So
, what are you going to do now? Leave
Wisconsin
?


I like Wisconsin,

Matthew said,

s
o
no, I

m not leaving. I figure, if I hurry, I can probably persuade someone to take me on before Stanharbor starts bad-mouthing me.


M
m
m.

Marcelle muttered and then an idea struck her. She looked at Matthew for a long while, her gaze moving from his tanned,
weathered
face to his work-worn hands. Could she do it? Would her
father
skin the flesh from her hide if she did? It wasn

t
as if
she owed this man anything, although he did step between her and Stanharbor

s attempt to strangle her
, a
nd
he did seem a decent sort. Besides, any man who could stand up to Clifford Stanharbor and his annoying
offspring
couldn

t be
all
bad
. He looked like a hard worker too, and if he really trained the horse standing in the corral behind her, then he would definitely be a valuable addition to
Weatherman
Stables.


Everything to your satisfaction?

Matthew asked. He struggled to keep his tone level, but his nerves were jumping.
Why was she raking her gaze over him
? He wondered. If she was eyeing him for the purpose that most women did, then he read her all wrong.

Marcelle blushed.
A
man had never caught her inspecting them before, probably because she had never done so before. Still, her
reason
for doing so was innocent enough, and she certainly didn

t think it would upset him. Yet, if his stiffening demeanor was any indication, he
r inspection
was
unwelcomed
. It reminded her of her own reaction to men who
did
the same thing to her, only their looks weren

t innocent. She did find his reaction interesting.
A
fter
all, shouldn

t a man be flattered to have the opposite sex staring at him. Shouldn

t she be flattered? She lifted her gaze back to his and blushed. His
gaze
all but screamed
that he wanted her to stop gawking and was having difficulty keeping his perturbation under control.


Relax
, Mr. Daragh
,
is it?

Marcelle quirked her head in question.


Matthew

s fine,

he responded tightly.


No, it isn

t, but nonetheless I wasn

t looking at you to see if you

d make a good bed partner.

She said in a deliberately blunt way, and was pleased to see color seep up beneath his collar.

A
lthough I

m sure you probably would, and many women would like nothing more. I was merely trying to ascertain your worth.

Matthew

s blush
intensified
. She could speak directly about his sexual prowess, without batting an eyelash, but couldn

t call him Matthew
, an
d
what did she mean by his

worth

? Was this another statement, twisted about as a way to throw him off-guard
, wh
en she could merely have said what she meant in a less provoking way?


Your
pitchfork
tongue is rearing its ugly head again,

he said,

but, heaven help me, I

ve got to know what

worth

you are trying to ascertain exactly. Do I
measure
up to an ape, in this at least? Oops, I mean, a monkey.

Marcelle smiled,

I was trying to decide if you were a hard-worker,

Marcelle said,

A
nd
I can see by your hands that you are.


A
nd
why would you be interested in my work ethics, Marcelle

or should I call you, Miss
Weatherman
?


Since
you are not courting me, Mr. Daragh, calling me by my given name would be highly improper for you, now wouldn

t it?


True
, but you didn

t seem to me the type to stand too much on formality, especially when you can sit here and talk about bed sport like some one-cent hooker,

Matthew challenged. He didn

t really believe her to be a hooker. He did his own quick perusal, and decided that she wasn

t a hooker.
At
least she didn

t dress like any hooker he

d ever seen. Still, if she wasn

t a
prostitute
,
how could she be so loose-lipped about some things, but
simultaneously
refuse to allow him use
of
her given name.

Marcelle

s smile widened and a twinkle sparkled in her eye,

A
re
n

t you still interested in why I want to know what kind of worker you are? Or do you need a few more minutes to finish your examination of
my
person?

Matthew smiled thinly.

Tit
for tat, Miss
Weatherman
. You look me over, and I get to look you over.


A
h, but I had a legitimate
reason
,

Marcelle challenged.


So
you said,

Matthew countered,

a
nd
I can assure you that the
reasons
for my examination are just as sound.

Marcelle snorted,

I think this conversation derailed somewhere along the line, so let

s get it back on track, shall we?
A
re
you a hard worker, or aren

t you?


Not until you answer my question, Miss
Weatherman
.


In all honesty, Mr. Daragh,

Marcelle sighed,

I can

t even recall what that question was.

In all honesty, it took him a good few minutes to remember the question as well. He had to start rewinding their conversation in his mind. He lowered his gaze in thought, but wasn

t able to think long before Marcelle interrupted those thoughts.


Uh hm.

Marcelle cleared her throat loudly.

You are only entitled to gawk at my person once, Mr. Daragh. Otherwise, you break the rules of engagement.


Rules of engagement?

Matthew asked.

What the devil are you talking about, rules of engagement?


The
rules of engagement. You know,

Marcelle
continued
, her features completely without guile
,

t
he
rule that says if you allow your gaze to roam freely over a woman

s body more than once in a period of five minute
s
or less, then you automatically become engaged.

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