Heart of Gold (A Gold Rush Romance) (6 page)

As for him, that quick touch of their lips had turned him inside-out. His entire body was alive with the electricity of the kiss, the shock that ran through him when their mouths met for that brief instant. He could feel his manhood tight against his trousers and knew he could not possibly walk into the room at the moment. He sat on the top step, regaining control, trying not to think of the lovely Alice and those heavenly seconds. It was an impossible task.

When he was able, he hurried down the stairs to his guests. They were still in the sitting room, both beaming. He had to grin at the pure happiness that lit up both their faces. Mrs. Leach turned toward him as he entered. “Alice was telling me all about what happened. I do so hope things work out well for you, dear.”

For a moment, Thomas thought she was speaking of the kiss. Luckily logic intervened before he said anything and he realized she meant Joe. Thomas shook his head in amazement. “I still have no explanation for how she did it, Mrs. Leach. Miss Crenshaw is a wonder.”

Mrs. Leach smiled and nodded in agreement, but Alice’s expression was the one that caught his attention. She flushed, but looked rather proud of herself and of his praise. He was inclined to kiss her again, but managed to hold himself back. It would not do to make her leave in a huff. Whether she actually wanted to or not, that would be the expected response, and he had no doubt she would do it.

Mrs. Barnes, the elderly housekeeper who normally left earlier in the day for her own home but agreed to stay the past two nights to make a special dinner for his guests, walked into the room and announced that supper was finished. Miss Crenshaw’s attention turned toward the distraction, but his eyes were unable to do anything but stay locked on her.

The three of them sat down to dinner, with Joe still absent. Thomas wanted to say something when Alice Crenshaw purposely sat next to Mrs. Leach, opposite and diagonal to Thomas, as far as she could get while still being polite, but knew there were no words to address the awkward gulf she was creating between them. Before Thomas could do any more than pick up his fork, he heard the front door open and close. There was hardly time to wonder who had burst into his house without knocking when the young man who had driven the women in the carriage ran into the room, breathless. Thomas had been unable to tell outside in the dark, but in this well-lit room it was clear he was no more than fifteen, and bore a strong resemblance to Mrs. Leach.

Mrs. Leach spoke up sharply. “Freddie, what are you doing here? I told you what time to come to drive us home. It is far too early.”

Freddie took a moment to regain his composure, but was unable to fully hide his anxiety. “Mother, it’s Jack. He’s sick.”

Mrs. Leach looked skeptical, but there was a hint of worry stamped on her forehead. “His fever?”

The young man nodded. “It’s gotten much worse. The doctor thinks it’s diphtheria.”

The elderly lady jumped up, and Alice began to rise, too. Mrs. Leach stopped her. “You stay here, dear. I’ll send Freddie with the carriage back for you later and we shall find a place for you to stay for tonight, at the very least. If it is diphtheria, I want you as far away as possible. If you take ill, it could spread through the entire school.”

Thomas wanted to offer for her to stay there the night, and almost did, but he knew that would be a scandalous proposition. He could at least offer some help, though. He stood and said, “I have a buggy, Mrs. Leach. There is no need to send the boy back. I will accompany Miss Crenshaw so she can get a few of her things once you have had time to address the situation at your home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lancaster. That would be lovely. Please enjoy your meal first. It may take some time before we have plans in place.”

With that, the pleasant older lady was bustling out the door, talking in quick, low tones to her son. Thomas was left there with Alice, for all intents and purposes, alone. He looked at her, secretly excited at the prospect of even a short time spent privately in her presence. This was his chance to find out who she really was, other than a teacher and magic snake-charmer of nine-year-old boys. He knew it would be a trial to his self-control, especially with that kiss still lingering between them, but it was worth the challenge.

Alice turned to him, still standing, and there was anxiety written across her face. He wondered if it was for Mrs. Leach’s ill son or if it was because she was trapped with him, but either way, he needed to help rid her of it. “Miss Crenshaw, will you sit? We have a delicious chicken getting cold, and there is nothing to do but eat it and enjoy some conversation.”

She hesitated, and he wondered for a moment if she might decide to leave despite Mrs. Leach’s directions. Instead, she sat and his heart settled down, relieved. She was going to stay. “So, what shall we talk about?” he prompted, mostly because he was curious to see what she would say.

After a short pause, her lips tilted up slightly into a very tiny smile. She said, “Well, I do have one question that I meant to ask you at the schoolhouse the other afternoon, but there was never a good time.”

He was slightly disappointed she had not brought up what happened on the top of the stairs, but he should have expected as much. He turned his attention to her enigmatic statement. What could she have been wondering about since yesterday afternoon that caused her to smile like that? “What is it?”

“You mentioned that your horse’s name is Hamlet. Why Hamlet?”

Thomas laughed. He had no recollection of even saying the name in front of her, but somehow she had heard it and taken notice, and that amused him. “He was such a somber-looking horse, gray and moody. It seemed to fit.”

She raised one eyebrow, her lips curving deeper into a smile that set his blood afire. “You named your horse after a Shakespearean character?”

She was smiling because of him. He definitely liked the feeling that accompanied that knowledge, and he wanted more of it. “Of course. Shakespeare invented remarkable names. Why should I need to devise new ones? I had one horse named Mercutio, but I sold him before I traveled West. His new owner was very confused.”

Her hand covered her mouth, her eyes sparkling with laughter. Yes, he liked this woman underneath the mask.

He had never fallen in love before, but he now had a guess as to what it felt like.

Chapter Three

Alice laughed helplessly as Thomas went through the variety of Shakespearean-themed names he had given animals, along with the personalities that prompted them. How on Earth did he know all these plays? As if in answer to her internal question, he shrugged after finishing the litany. “My farm in Missouri is small. I have plenty of time to read in the evening, and I’ve had an affinity for Shakespeare plays since I figured out that they were actually funny and rather… well, more scandalous than one would expect. As a boy, that was very important.”

She blushed slightly. Shakespeare could be quite suggestive as she well knew, which was one of her favorite things about him. Students so rarely found the dry required texts interesting, and there was no way she could see of getting more mature books which they might enjoy into their hands. Sometimes she wished there was some way to help the older boys become aware of the literature available to them. In her mind, if it would keep them reading, then it would be worth it. She was certain anything of that sort would be by far the largest disagreement between her and the school board to date, and would likely end with a call for her resignation. She could almost see Mr. Wilson’s disapproving expression.

Alice looked up at the man across the table from her. His eyes were fixed on her, and she imagined him replaying some of the more bawdy sections in his head with her as the main character, with their brief kiss as inspiration. That thought only made her picture a few choice scenes herself. Uncomfortable, and more aroused than she would like by the idea, she knew it was time to change the subject. “You own a farm?”

“Yes. I don’t have much, just a few goats and a patch of land, but it has been good to me. Our parents died when we had just come of age and money was scarce, you see, so Emily and I needed to break out on our own.” He gestured around. “She did very well, but my small place has been enough. It keeps me going.”

Her heart dropped a little. He was speaking about his farm in present tense, as if it was still his home. Despite her promise to herself not to get involved with this man, and the reasonable voice inside that knew it was best if he left Shasta, she could not help but want him to stay. “So you shan’t be settling here, then?”

He smirked, and she realized how obvious her statement had been. Would she ever stop blushing around this man? She attempted an explanation that made her seem less of a lovesick youth. “Joe has lived here a long time. The change could be difficult for him.”

She could tell her attempt at deception failed, but at least he was gentlemanly enough not to mention it. “I have yet to sell it, but another family is staying there now. Their home burnt down some weeks before I came out here, and they are living at my place while they rebuild, though it will take a long time before they are able. That’s why I attempted the long trek out here, actually—it was quite crowded with the six of them and myself, so I decided to take the opportunity to visit my sister. It had been so long since we’d seen each other that it seemed an ideal chance.”

He broke off, and she could almost read the thoughts he held back. That she would be alive had he not come, that he was guilty of her death. It broke her heart to see the remorse etched on his brow.

She very much wished this chance to speak privately had never come about. Every additional moment only improved her opinion of him, and that certainly was not good for her. She had never thought it possible she could find an astonishingly handsome, intelligent man who read Shakespeare when he wasn’t busy helping his neighbors or traveling across the country to visit his sister and care for his nephew, nor one that pulled at her heartstrings as he did. It was already leading her to complicated thoughts that she would rather not have running through her head.

Luckily, she was smart enough to know that when people seemed too good to be true, it was often the case that they were far less than the façade promised. She had been hurt before by a man who appeared wonderful in too many ways, and she would never drop her guard like that again.

His voice cut through her thoughts. “How did you end up out here, Alice? You don’t sound like a woman that was raised in the mining camps around here. Your accent is not from California, but it’s difficult to guess any more than that.”

She noticed his use of her first name. It was the first time he had done that, and it sent a little thrill down her spine, though she knew it was inappropriate and she should not allow those kinds of feelings to course through her in such a way. She should not even allow it to go unmentioned.

Then she thought about what he had actually asked her, which made her spine tingle again, but this time with anxiety. She had no desire to discuss her past—not with anyone. But she knew it would be odd to leave the question unanswered. She decided to say as little as possible. “I am from Vermont. I lived there most of my life, before I came to Shasta.”

She hoped that would be enough to close the subject, but he leaned forward, interested, and her spirit sank lower. “And you moved out here alone?”

She nodded, hoping that would be enough. His brows contracted together as if he was puzzled. “A young woman traveling across the country all by herself… that is quite unexpected. What prompted you to do that?”

He was perceptive. This could definitely be a problem. She disliked lying, but he was pushing her to the point where she had very little choice. She chose her words with care, choosing the safest responses that were also technically true. “I wanted to teach out West, and I was tired of life over there. The winters were too cold.”

She begged, shouting the thoughts at him, as if that would help, that he would ask nothing more about her decision to travel alone. He seemed to consider asking another question about it, then shrugged, and she felt her stress lessen. She hoped she would be safe from any interrogations that she might not be able to face honestly.

“What made you want to become a teacher?” he asked.

It wasn’t a perfect question, but it was different enough to allow her to avoid a lie. “I love learning, I guess. I had several tutors when I was young, and I always noticed when one topic was interesting to me and another was not, and my reflections showed that it often had more to do with the tutor than the subject. And I have always loved children. I think I was born to teach.”

She had not expected to say so much, but his open look and curious gaze invited confidence. He tilted his head slightly as she finished, and asked, “Private tutors? Your family must have been quite wealthy.”

Dangerous territory again. Why hadn’t she continued only responding with short answers? She just nodded.

“Were they unhappy when you packed up and moved out West to teach?”

She laughed involuntarily, nodding again. He had no idea how right he was on that score.

He chuckled, too, infected by her amusement, and her heart danced a little. She felt pulled to him, as worrisome as that was, but she couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the moment. Then his eyes turned serious, almost pleading, and he asked, “If you love children so much, why have you not married and had any yourself?”