No Other Love (8 page)

How strange that all this mapping and planning and focus had been on their part of the world, and they had known so little about it.

Someone was coming down the hall. With her heart in her throat Rose replaced the files and slipped into the next room. She had just taken her seat when Mr. Fletcher entered.

“Good afternoon, Rose. I hear you have a message for me. What has Mrs. Fletcher to say?”

Rose stood and silently offered up the note, her eyes on the floor. Her thoughts were spinning so out of control, she was afraid something of her confusion would show on her face.

Mr. Fletcher read the note with a smile.

“Please assure Mrs. Fletcher that I shall return home by four o'clock.”

Her task completed, she should have taken her leave. Instead she stood there, unable to move. She wanted to cry, wanted to demand he tell her what had happened to her father.

“Is that all, Rose?”

Schooling her expression, Rose forced herself to meet his gaze. “Yes, sir, that's all. I'll relate your message.”

Dropping a curtsy, she left the room. The clerk jumped to his feet at the sight of her, but Rose merely walked passed him, her head down, a terrible weight in her chest. What was she to make of all this? Was Mr. Byrne the one responsible? And if so, would anyone care? The Lenox sheriff had already dismissed her once. Would the Boston police be any better?

Outside, the bright sun momentarily blinded her. She stood on the top step until her eyes adjusted, and when they did, she grew even more confused. Gone were Charlie and the cart.

“What the devil am I to do now?” she stormed aloud, not expecting a reply.

“Don’t blame Charlie. He was merely following orders. I told him to go.”

Rose’s breath caught at the sound of Luke Fletcher’s voice, and she turned to see him coming through the doorway behind her, her marketing basket in his hand. His hair had grown longer since she’d last seen him and now curled over the collar of his shirt. He hadn’t shaved in several days and his hat and shoes were dusty. He must ridden straight to the offices without even stopping at Cider Hill.

Heat flooded her at the memory of their last encounter, and she grew too flustered to say anything. And yet she felt caught in that heated look, trapped by her warring emotions. Suspicion of his family and mistrust of his motives vied with an attraction she couldn’t control. She could feel his nearness, the warmth emanating from him carrying with it the memory of that shattering kiss.

But she would not be made a fool of.

“Why did you tell him to go? How am I to get back to the house?” Rose demanded, the quiver in her voice betraying her reaction to him.

“When my father and I returned from Town Hall he was here, complaining that he'd been waiting for ages. So I told him I would take you back.”

“How could you?” Rose exclaimed. “Already everyone suspects the two of us.” She flushed at the realization that this assumption was no longer entirely inaccurate.

Luke ran a hand through his thick hair as if in frustration.

“I hadn’t considered that, but no doubt you’re correct.” He gave her a piercing look. “Are any of the men in the house giving you trouble?”

“You and your stepbrother are the only ones who’ve made advances,” she replied, hoping he saw the absurdity of his righteousness.

But he was not amused. Rather his expression turned thunderous. He approached her, stopping only when he was a foot away.

“What has Nathan done?” he ground out. “I’ll kill him if he’s laid a hand on you.”

Rose stared at him, shocked at his unexpected ferocity.

“It was nothing you need worry about. Please promise me you won’t say anything. It will only make things worse for me if you say something on my behalf.”

Luke looked aggrieved that he couldn’t defend her honor, but finally nodded in agreement. He continued to look troubled, however, and there was something pained in his expression. “I didn’t force myself on you, did I, Rose?”

A hot flush raced over her at this, and she knew without a doubt that her face was flaming.

“No, of course you didn’t,” she replied, her voice nearly a whisper. “But it mustn’t happen again.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

A man hurried by them into the building, looking at them curiously as he went by. Luke took a step away, breaking the unbearable tension.

“Come, let us take care of your errands,” Luke said.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than see me home?” Rose quipped, her nerves already frayed.

“In fact I don't,” replied Luke, smiling down at her. “I’m completely at your disposal.”

It wasn’t fair. No man should be allowed to smile like that. His eyes crinkled and his white teeth flashed and he was so handsome it simply hurt to look at him.

At a loss as to how to respond, she took refuge in practicalities.

“Very well, then. I must stop at the market before we return. Shall I meet you back here?”

“No, you shall not. I'm coming with you. It's a lovely day for a walk to the market.” So saying he placed her hand in the crook of his arm and started off.

Rose glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t understand him. Here he was, escorting her through town as if he were her beau. There was nothing in her experience to prepare her for the likes of Luke Fletcher. Nevertheless, she swore she wouldn’t let her guard down again. She simply couldn't afford to.

The streets grew more crowded as they neared Fanueil Hall marketplace, and Rose found she was grateful to have Luke by her side, as she quickly became confused in the maze of stalls and shouting vendors. He guided her to each item she needed – a sack of cornmeal, tea and honey – and carried the increasingly heavy basket.

He seemed in no hurry and led her through the commotion at a leisurely pace. So at ease did he make her that she soon forgot all about not letting down her guard, forgot who they were to each other and simply enjoyed the warm sun and pleasant conversation. He even began to point out buildings and explain their uses before she could tell him there was no need.

“Oh, I know the city well, though it’s changed since I left. I lived here until I was fifteen years old. I attended the Temple School on Tremont Street.”

“That explains it,” he said, looking intently at her.

“What does it explain?”

“Why you’re so well-spoken and poised, why you're not like any maid I ever knew.”

“Oh, and have you known many?” Rose asked, giving him an arch look.

“Not in the way you mean, Miss Stratton, no,” he replied, causing her to blush once again. “What happened when you were fifteen to make you leave here?” he asked.

“My mother died of consumption. My father couldn’t bear to stay in Boston without her, so we moved back to the farm he grew up on. But now he’s gone too.”

“I’m so sorry.” He paused a moment. “I lost my mother when I was seventeen, just before I went to university in England. I can’t imagine losing my father as well.”

They stopped in the street and looked at each other with understanding, and Rose felt another wave of awareness wash over her, this one more profound than before. Then Luke took her arm and they began walking again.

“Did you miss Boston?” he asked.

“I did miss it, very much at first,” she reflected. “I missed my friends terribly, and there was always something new to see and do in town. But my father was much more at peace on the farm, and my aunt needed us after my uncle died, so it was best all around.”

“Was it best for you?” Luke asked, his voice quiet and serious.

Rose thought a moment before replying.

“The land is beautiful out there, and I learned to love what it has to offer. I wasn't unhappy, but somehow I always felt that I wasn't meant for that life. I suppose I was like many girls who think they’re meant for something greater. Farm life is much the same day after day, and one is so tied to it. I dreamed of getting away and seeing new places …” Rose broke off, embarrassed at how much she’d revealed.

“No, you weren't meant to be a farmer's wife,” he said. It should have sounded presumptuous, given how little he knew of her. Instead he sounded thoughtful.

“Meant for it or not, it’s what I shall be one day,” she said, knowing she sounded resigned to her fate rather than excited to be marrying the man she loved. She could feel Luke’s gaze on her but looked straight ahead, unable to meet it.

How far she’d come from her ideas of travel and excitement. Her life would be spent working just to put food on the table. There was no shame in that. Maybe someday it would even bring her pleasure.

They were both quiet as they reached the livery, where Luke arranged for a buggy and team of horses. Before long they were on their way back to Cider Hill, the top down in order to enjoy the pleasant breeze. Rose settled back for the ride, conscious of the new ease she felt with Luke. How unexpected, this new sense of friendship between them. It felt strange to tell him details of her life, and yet not wrong. She hadn't given anything away, but more than that, she felt understood.

What a shock it had been to exchange the sights and smells of Boston for life on a farm. She could see it when she closed her eyes – how the woods bordered their spread on all sides, and in the middle the gold of fine hay, flecks of color from the vegetable garden, horses and pigs, the dairy cows and chickens. Even now it was a constant battle to keep the land clear. Always there was the forest wanting to take it back.

Yes, she had grown to love the land, but somewhere in the back of her mind she had always planned to leave it. Since agreeing to marry Will, the life that awaited her seemed more trap than blessing.

But she was too relaxed, too tired, to examine her feelings any further. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself sink into the seat, her body rocked by the gentle sway of the carriage.

***

Luke let the horses slow to a walk when he saw that Rose had fallen asleep. There was something new and intimate in seeing her like this – the whisper of her breath, the unguardedness of her lovely face as she slept.

She stirred beside him, her body curling into the side of the buggy for a more comfortable spot. Her long auburn lashes fluttered against her cheeks, her soft lips turning down at the corners as if she dreamt of something sad.

She must be exhausted. Six days a week she worked from sun-up until sundown, and on the seventh day she walked for hours. He hated that she worked for his family, that she worked for anyone. Though her tasks now were better than what he had seen her doing the first day, that wasn’t saying much.

It didn’t escape him that his vow to stay away from her had already failed. He hadn’t planned it, but Charlie had seemed in a rush, and without thinking he’d told him he’d make sure she got home. Come to think of it, Charlie had given him a queer sort of look, but he hadn’t taken any note of it at the time. He was too pleased with the idea of seeing Rose to consider his actions.

He wasn’t sorry either. Their outing had been pleasant and cordial, and he could almost believe they were becoming friends. He knew a great deal more about her now than he had before, though much was still a mystery.

Still, as much as he enjoyed knowing more about her, it was all he could do to hold his tongue when she mentioned the farmer waiting for her back home. Her expression had turned pensive, and everything in her seemed to dim when she spoke of him.

The fact that she was bound, more or less, to another man was reason enough to stay away from her. But she was far from her friends and family, and she needed someone to look out for her. Which left him, if only he could keep from being one of the things from which she needed protection.

He brought the horses to a stop a short distance from the drive so that no one would see them return together. Rose woke slowly, her eyes soft and unfocused as she looked at him. In that one moment between sleep and wakefulness she smiled the loveliest, most heartbreaking smile Luke had ever seen. His breath caught in his throat.

Who was going to protect
him
from her?

Then she looked around and, getting her bearings, came fully awake. He could see her blush even as she thanked him, and just like that a wave of lust and tenderness swept over him and pulled him under.

She gathered her basket and rushed off without waiting for him to hand her down, walking down the drive toward the back entrance. She was not even allowed to enter the front door of his father’s house. Rose, who was finer in every way than anyone who walked through that door.

There was something between them. He was sure she felt it as well, though in many ways that was even worse than if it had been just his own foolish longing.

Chapter Five

Rose sat in Vivian’s parlor, fretting over what to do with the information gleaned from Mr. Fletcher’s office. It was possible her father had been shot before Mr. Byrne visited the farm, but Rose didn’t believe it. Everything pointed to someone from the railroad, and that someone was probably Mr. Byrne. The question was why. Did he think it would make Olivia more likely to sell? It was a drastic measure to take for such an unpredictable outcome.

“If only I knew if Mr. Byrne did in fact ride to the farm that day, then I would know for certain. Someone would have to listen to me.”

“But you’ve discovered so much already!” Vivian exclaimed. “You mustn’t expect so much of yourself.”

Realizing she was once again worrying away her cherished weekly visit, Rose made a concerted effort to change the subject to something more pleasant. As usual, she stayed for the evening meal, but she lingered a bit too long and in consequence found herself leaving town much later than she intended.

The sun was just beginning to set, the western sky a display of fierce orange and deepening blue. But though it was a lovely time of night, she would soon be walking in the pitch black. She suffered not a few hoots and hollers by day, even with her face completely obscured by her bonnet, so she had no desire to test the limits of Boston’s male population after the sun went down. But it seemed she would have no choice.