Red Roses Mean Love (19 page)

Hellfires burned in Hayley's cheeks. "Er, yes. He is quite a, er
…
fine
specimen."

"And he's very charming," Aunt Olivia went on, clearly oblivious to Hayley's discomfort.

"I wasn't aware you'd
spent so much time with him,
Aunt Olivia," Hayley stated in a loud voice.

Her aunt picked up her
needlework. "Oh, yes, we had a
fine time together yesterday afternoon. While you and the children were
visiting the stables, Mr. Barrettson helped me
with my chores."

Hayley and
Pamela exchanged a puzzled look. "But it
was your turn to dust the library," Pamela said.

A broad smile lit Aunt Olivia's face. "Indeed. Mr. Barrettson wields a feather
duster quite well, and he can reach
much higher than I can. Oh, I admit at first he
seemed somewhat reluctant, horrified actually, but the dear boy caught on quickly."

"How did you manage to convince him to
dust?"
Hayley
asked, highly amused.

"Why, I simply handed him the duster and asked for his assistance." Aunt Olivia fixed a pointed look on
Hayley. "If
you want something, my dear Hayley, you need to make your wishes known. Mr. Barrettson isn't a mind reader, after all."

Hayley stared at her aunt, and wondered if they were
still
discussing dusting. Before she had a chance to speak, Aunt Olivia returned
her attention to her needlework, and Hayley
let the
subject drop before her cheeks truly caught fire.

Soon thereafter,
Pamela and Hayley left the dining room
and, with Callie in tow, headed toward the lake. Callie set up
her easel, and Hayley and Pamela
sat on the grass, enjoying the warm breeze and the unusual, but welcome, peace and quiet that came from their brothers' absence.

"Are you looking forward to Lorelei Smythe's party?" Pamela asked, picking a long blade of grass and twirling it between her fingers.

Hayley grimaced and looked heavenward. "I'd rather bathe Stinky. That woman makes me feel like a large, gauche, impolite, unwanted interloper every time we meet." She slid a sidelong glance at Pamela.
"Of
course,
I
shall endeavor to bear
her company for your sake. I would never
deny you the pleasure of attending the
party, especially since
a certain
handsome young
doctor will be there."

A furious blush stained Pamela's cheeks. "Oh, Hayley, I
nearly died when
Marshall
saw me at the lake the other day looking like a drowned cat. Heaven only knows what he thought."

"He couldn't take his eyes off
you," Hayley assured her.

"He couldn't
believe how horrid
I looked."

"He couldn't believe how beautiful you were, even wet and wearing a ragged quilt."

"Do you really think so?" Pamela asked, her eyes alight with hope.

"His adoration for you is so apparent, Pamela, even
Grimsley noticed it—without
the aid of his spectacles. Trust me. Marshall Wentbridge is a man
besotted."
You'll soon be happily wed, leading a normal life—everything I want for you.

Pamela hugged her arms around herself and heaved a blissful sigh. "Oh, Hayley, I
hope you're right. He's just the
most wonderful man. So kind and handsome. He leaves me…"
Her voice trailed off.

"Breathless?" Hayley supplied, knowing the feeling all
too well.

"Exactly."

"And your heart speeds up and you can barely think whenever he's near you,"
Hayley murmured softly, her
thoughts drifting away. A series of images of Stephen
flashed through her mind—Stephen holding up a string of fish, Stephen laughing, Stephen leaning over her to brush his mouth across hers.

"Yes," Pamela said, jerking
Hayley back to the present. "That's exactly how
Marshall
makes me feel. How did you know?"

Embarrassed by her
unguarded
words, Hayley stared down
at her
hands
and
remained silent.

Pamela reached out to touch Hayley's sleeve. "Is that how Mr. Popplemore made you feel, Hayley?" she asked, her voice quiet with sympathy.

"No," Hayley denied quickly with a frown. "Jeremy
never affected my heart rate, nor my ability to think."

"Then who
…
?"
Pamela's eyes
grew round and she stared at Hayley. "Does
Mr. Barrettson
make you feel that way? The way
Marshall
makes me feel?"

Hayley didn't answer for a moment, afraid to say the words out loud, even to Pamela, but she was unwilling to add to her long list of lies. "Yes. I'm afraid so."

A sunny smile broke over Pamela's face. "Hayley! How
wonderful! I'm so happy you found someone to care for.
I—"

"I
care for
him,"
Hayley interrupted her sister's enthusiastic words. "I didn't say he cared for me."

Pamela grabbed Hayley's hands and squeezed them. "Don't be silly. How could he not care for you? You saved his life. You're beautiful, and loving, and unselfish—"

"Pamela." Hayley's single word cut off her sister. "I appreciate what you're saying, but you must face the facts, as I have had to. Stephen is leaving here very soon. He has a job far away from here, and once he leaves we'll probably never see him again. I know he's grateful to us, but that is all."

"Perhaps he'll change his mind about his job and decide to stay here," Pamela suggested. "Surely he wouldn't leave if he falls in love. He could tutor children right here in Halstead."

"Stephen hasn't given me any indication he intends to change his plans."

"Perhaps he would if he knew you cared for him."

"No!" Hayley practically shouted. "I mean, he must know that I like him—"

"Does he know that you love him?" Pamela asked.
"Do
you love him?"

Hayley's heart banged against her ribs. "No. And yes.
No, he doesn't know, and yes, I do. I
…
love him." Saying the words out loud filled her with both relief and sadness. "But surely you can see how hopeless this is. I'm not a young woman—"

"You're only six and twenty!"

Hayley smiled at her sister's loyalty. "I'm far past the first bloom of youth, Pamela. And a man like Stephen
…
well, clearly he could have any woman he wants."

"And if he wants you?" Pamela asked softly.

Hayley shook her head and didn't answer. Even if Stephen should want her, she had far too many responsibilities and secrets to consider sharing her life with anyone.

"I wish I could help you, Hayley. You're always doing
for other people, never asking anything for yourself. For the
first
time,
you
want something.
I
pray you get
it."

Hayley's insides melted. Dear Pamela. "You help me by being happy, and sharing that
happiness with me," she said
sincerely. "I've changed my mind. I cannot wait to attend Lorelei's party if for no other reason than to see Marshall
Wentbridge's eyes pop out when he sees you
in your lovely new gown."

Pamela blushed. "Thank you for buying it for me. It's so lovely."

Hayley leaned over and kissed her sister's pink cheek. "So are you, Pamela. So are you."

"Well, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed that Mr. Barrettson realizes how wonderful you are and decides to remain in Halstead," Pamela said. "Maybe if we both wish hard enough, it will happen."

"What will happen?" Callie asked, joining them. "What are we wishing for? I love to make wishes."

Hayley stroked the child's dark curls. "We're wishing for love. And happiness."

Callie wrapped her chubby little arms around Hayley and hugged her fiercely. "I love you both, and I'm very happy."

Hayley and Pamela laughed. "See there?" Hayley said. "You just made all our wishes come true." She dropped a kiss into Callie's hair. "Shall we pack up your easel, then try
to discover what those brothers of ours are up to, and what mischief they've dragged poor
Mr. Barrettson into?"

The plan was agreed upon, and they set out to find Andrew, Nathan, and Stephen.

* * *

"We need more rocks over here," Nathan
shouted, dropping
a large stone atop the rapidly growing wall.

"How many?" Andrew
shouted back.

"Three or four."

"All right."

Andrew lifted a heavy stone and struggled over to where
Nathan stood. Stephen hoisted an even heavier rock, grimacing at the pain in
his
ribs. He carried
it
over to the boys and
placed it on top of the wall.

"How's that?" Stephen asked, wiping the sweat from his
brow with his forearm.

They'd been working on King Arthur's "castle" the entire morning, hauling rocks of all sizes. The
result was a very respectable fortress wall.

"It looks grand,"
Nathan enthused, walking around the
structure. It was
nearly five feet high and over twelve feet
long.

"And we finished not a moment too soon," Stephen said, dropping
down onto the grass. "Between
my shoulder and
my ribs, I'm ready to rest." He stretched out on his
back,
and shielded his eyes from the bright sun with his forearm.

"But now it's time to play Knights of the
Round Table," Nathan protested. "We have to don our suits of armor."

Stephen groaned, and peeked out from beneath his arm at the two
eager boys. "Oh, all right," he grumbled. "But first this knight needs to rest a bit." He winced as a pain shot
through his overworked shoulder. "Some refreshments are in order, I think."

"We'll fetch some
water from the lake," Andrew offered.

The two boys scurried off, and Stephen breathed a sigh of relief, enjoying the brief respite. The sun warmed his skin, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. An in
sect flew by and he lifted a lazy hand to swat it
away. In spite
of his weariness, he'd thoroughly enjoyed his
morning with Andrew
and Nathan, just
as
he'd enjoyed their company yesterday. He'd
initially sought them out in a desperate attempt to avoid Hayley, but he'd quickly discovered they were bright, intelligent lads,
and surprisingly well
mannered in spite of their good-natured bickering. They'd taught Stephen how to fish, and laughed uproariously at his reluctance to skewer the fat, wiggly worm on the hook.

But after a few tries, Stephen had mastered the grisly task and actually enjoyed himself. He couldn't recall ever laughing so much. Young boys, Stephen decided, were not nearly so difficult as he'd previously thought. In fact, they were quite delightful to talk to and spend time with.

Today he'd helped them add on to
their castle. They
already had constructed several other "buildings," and Stephen couldn't help but admire the time and effort the boys had obviously devoted to their Camelot. As a child, Stephen had had very few opportunities to play. Nearly all his
time
had been spent learning everything his father
deemed necessary in order to one day inherit the dukedom.

Gregory and Victoria had enjoyed much more free time
to indulge
in childish games. Their father was less
strict with
his daughter and second son. He allowed them to run about
the estate and play—anything to keep
them occupied and out
of his way—but Stephen rarely joined in.
His
days were
spent in the schoolroom under the harsh eyes of his countless tutors.
So
here I am, at eight and twenty, running around in the forest like a child, and having a damn good time doing it, too.

Just then the boys returned with a bucketful of cold water. Stephen took a long, thirsty drink and wiped his mouth with
the back of his hand. His whiskers prickled his skin, and he
realized
it had been several days since Hayley had shaved him. He ran
his hand over his stubbly cheeks and recalled the feel of her soft breasts pressing on his
arm as she
leaned over
his chest to scrape the razor against
his face. Asking her to
shave him
again was probably not a
good idea.