Heaven Scent (14 page)

The man had to be the most stubborn
person she had ever met. Even though she had told him she would not
enter into a courtship, he still promised to call on her
today.

Why? she wondered, plucking at the
piping on the lavender pillow. Why didn’t he honor her wishes and
accept her answer? Did he think he could change her
mind?

A part of her hoped he would. She
wanted the freedom to grab him by the hand and pull him into her
embrace. She wanted the freedom to see where their intimacy would
lead. She wanted to discuss politics, hear stories of his years out
West, and care for his wounds.

But that would mean getting close to
him. And she would never do that.

A knock came at the door. She jumped in
her seat. “Yes?” she replied, her voice meek.

“Your father requests your presence in
the library, Lady Worthington,” Hobbs said, through the
door.

Tarin stilled. “Did you make him aware
of my headache, Hobbs?”

“Yes, my lady. He insists that you come
down.”

Rising from her seat, Tarin tossed the
pillow on the floor and went to the door. “Is there a
visitor?”

Hobbs nodded once. “Yes. Dr. Kent is in
attendance, my lady.”

Tarin’s heart stopped. Was he here to
announce her status with Dr. Gregory ruined? After the
confrontation with Rafe two days ago, she had held the niggling
worry at bay, telling herself Dr. Kent would never betray her like
that. But now, the worry hit her full force. She clutched her
skirts in a fist as she made her way downstairs.

Inside the library, her father was
nowhere to be found. Dr. Kent stood at the shelves perusing her
father’s Socrates collection.

She took a deep breath. If
Dr. Kent proved the bearer of bad news, Tarin didn’t know what she
would do. She had been working,
living
for this college for so long,
she wouldn’t know life without it.

“Dr. Kent,” she said with a smile, as
she approached him. “What a surprise.”

Kent turned from the books to greet
her. “Good day, Tarin.” He squeezed her hands briefly.

His smile was warm, his eyes sparkling
in male admiration. He wore the finest of frock coats in a dark
steel gray, his narrow-cut trousers of the same cloth. His black,
bow-tie cravat was tied to perfection.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she
asked, stepping away.

The radiant smile dimmed on his face
but did not disappear. Tarin clenched her skirts again.

Reaching over to the side table, Dr.
Kent retrieved a journal. He handed it to her, his smile brighter
than before.

A medical journal. Relief washed over
her like a tidal wave. Her sigh blossomed into a smile.

“A journal, for me?” she asked, sitting
in one of the burgundy wing chairs before the fireplace. Her hands
smoothed over the leather binding.

He sat on the edge of the seat across
from her. “Yes, I acquired it from a colleague in New York. It’s
the latest on wounds, surgery and the use of
anesthesia.”

She held it to her chest. “Thank you,
Dr. Kent. You know I will enjoy it immensely.”

Dr. Kent’s eyes were wide, his smile
broad. “Yes, I do know what pleases you.”

Stilling, Tarin wanted to look away but
held his stare. The tone of his statement bothered her. Were his
softly-spoken words filled with innuendo? Or was she reading more
into them?

Leaning farther off his
seat, Dr. Kent reached across the expanse between them and covered
her hand.
Oh, blast
. Tarin wanted to pull her hand from his grasp but was afraid
to offend him.

“Tarin, you and I have a lot in
common.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded. “Yes, the
college has given us an opportunity to share our interest in
medicine.”

“Our Brahmin ties and my care for your
father have put us on the same path in many ways.”

She nodded.
Don’t jump to conclusions, Tarin.

His eyes downcast, Dr. Kent’s voice was
soft as she slowly pulled her hand from his. She left it on top of
the journal.

“Did you know I lived on the streets as
a child?”

A small gasp escaped her lips. “No. I
had no idea.”

He nodded. “My parents and I left
Shropshire for America when I was a boy of five. My father…” he
paused, “fell overboard on the journey.”

“Oh, Dr. Kent, no,” she said, covering
her mouth with her hand.

His smile was bitter. “My mother and I
lived on the streets of New York for weeks while we looked for
work. We sold everything we had to eat and pay for shelter when the
weather threatened. One day, about three months after we arrived,
she gave me a book. On Socrates.” He glanced up at the book shelf.
“She told me to sit on a corner and teach myself to read that book.
It would make me smart and rich one day.”

He shook his head. “She left me there,
alone, while she went to find food for us.” His voice was just
above a whisper. “That was the last time I saw her
alive.”

It seemed loss had touched everyone.
Tarin could certainly relate to the pain and anguish she witnessed
in his downcast eyes and thin speech. Tears swam in her eyes as she
reached over and squeezed his hand. “Dr. Kent…”

“She was right,” he said, taking a deep
breath. “It did make me smart. I went to the first church I could
find. The priest took me to an orphanage where I studied everything
the nuns were willing to teach me. I read every book they had in
their library. I told myself I would never live on the streets
again.” He squeezed her hand in return. “And I haven’t.”

“You are a self-made man, Dr. Kent. You
have much to be proud of.”

Nodding, he said, “I had hoped you
would see it that way.”

Her stomach clenched in a
knot.

“Tarin, I came here today to ask your
father’s permission to court you.”

Tarin tried to pull her hand from his
grasp. He held on tight. “Dr. Kent - “

“
But he told me
he
was not the person to
ask. He would approve anyone you approved.”

Tarin stood, forcing him to release her
hand. She placed the journal on her seat. “Dr. Kent you know I have
no desire to marry. I am completely involved in the
college.”

He rose to face her. “Yes,
but that is the beauty of our relationship. You can have both -
more than both. You can have the college
and
my knowledge at your disposal. We
both want the same thing.”

Tarin couldn’t dispute the logic of his
proposal. He would be the most practical selection for a husband
that she could make under the circumstances. She had heard many
women say he was handsome although he did not appeal to her in that
sense.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. Why
had he never married? He was her father’s age. Surely the
opportunity had presented itself at some point.

She heard voices in the foyer and knew
she had to end the conversation. “Dr. Kent, I -”

“Just think about it,” he interrupted,
glancing at the door. His body stiffened, his green eyes darkening
to forest in color.

“Tarin.”

Turning at the sound of her father’s
voice, she was shocked to see Rafe standing beside him in the
doorway. Brows lowered in a thunderous frown, Rafe’s eyes were
black as night. He stormed across the room to her side, leaving her
father to trail behind.

“Kent, what are you doing
here?”

Once again, the tension between them
felt as thick as mud. Tarin could feel it in the set of Rafe’s
tense shoulders, see it in the jutted chin of Dr. Kent.

Yet, she felt a sense of relief in
Rafe’s presence.

She frowned. Shouldn’t she
feel that relief in her
father’s
presence? When had that changed?

Dr. Kent bent to retrieve the journal.
The smile on his face was… malicious?

“I brought Tarin a gift,” he held it
out to Rafe. Rafe’s eyes glanced off the book but he didn’t touch
it.

“A medical journal,” Tarin offered,
taking it from his hand. She glanced up at Rafe. His eyes were in a
heated deadlock with Dr. Kent.

“Tarin,” Dr. Kent added, his eyes never
leaving Rafe. “There is a detailed section on burns, wounds and
their scars that may be too graphic for your delicate senses. I
know many male physicians that can‘t stomach that kind of
medicine.” His smile shown wide, victorious.

Tarin gritted her teeth. She wanted to
slap him. Slap the horrible, insensitive man with all of her
strength. His words were an obvious barb at Rafe for the scars on
his face. She would’ve never thought Dr. Kent capable of such
maliciousness unless she had seen it for herself.

Rafe on the other hand, stood eerily
quiet. While she heard his initial, quick intake of breath, he
never made a move towards Dr. Kent, never uttered a
response.

The annoyance in her father’s voice
spoke for them all. “Kent, didn’t you say you had an
appointment?”

“Yes, I did,” he replied, checking his
pocket watch. He moved to pick up his top hat from the table. All
eyes followed him to the door. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Bowing low, his eyes on her smoldered
as if in hidden meaning. Tarin cringed.

“Tarin, please think about what I
said.” Whistling, he strolled out the door without shutting
it.

Her gaze flew to Rafe. His eyes were
still dark as he handed her a gold box with a pink ribbon tied
around it. “This is for you.” His voice was detached, as though he
were giving her the gift out of obligation rather than
desire.

“Thank you.” She gave him her brightest
smile, hoping to demonstrate that Kent‘s words did not affect her
in the least.

He gave her a curt nod. Turning to her
father, he did the same. “Good day.” Rafe headed for the door, his
steps long.

A weight landed in the middle of her
chest. Why would he leave? He just got there. Wasn’t he going to
court her? Did he think he could just leave her a gift and walk
out?

“Rafe.”

His eyes were dull when he turned to
her. Tarin worked the ribbon from the box as she made her way
towards him. “No picnic in the park today?”

A corner of his mouth lifted as he
shook his head. “No, Tarin.”

Dropping the bow on the floor, she
lifted the lid on the box. “But, I’m hungry.”

Glancing at her father, Rafe’s eyes met
hers. “Tarin, the last thing I want from you is pity.”

While she had to admit feeling a touch
of pity, it was her reluctant desire to spend time with him that
prompted her.

“Pity?“ Now a foot in front of him,
Tarin breathed deeply. His spicy, utterly male scent had a knack
for stealing the breath from her lungs at first sniff. She lifted
her chin.

“You are the most arrogant, egotistical
man I have ever met. Pity is the last thing I would ever bestow on
you, Rafe Sutherland.”

Her father laughed from the other side
of the room. The smile on Rafe’s face made her knees wobble. It’s
radiance blinded her as the dimples in his cheeks carved deep
crevices in his face.

“Will you bring your
chocolates?”

Tarin frowned. “Chocolates?”

He nodded at the box in her hand. “Came
in on one of my ships this morning.”

Looking inside the box, Tarin saw an
assortment of rich chocolates from her favorite London chocolatier.
An afternoon with Rafe Sutherland and premium chocolate was more
delight than she deserved. She closed the box and tucked it under
her arm.

“Rafe Sutherland, you do have a way
with women.” Grinning, she hooked her arm through his.

Her father’s voice stopped them two
steps from the door. “Tarin, I assume your answer was
no?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw
Rafe look at her. “For some reason, I can’t recall the question,
Father.”

An hour later, Rafe lounged beside her
on the blanket, head in his hand. She leaned against the same elm
tree as the day before, miserable from eating too much roast beef.
The Sutherland cook was a master when it came to picnic fare. Tarin
had eaten more than Rafe.

"I am going to be as round as a barrel
if you keep feeding me this way."

Rafe grinned. "You will be easier to
catch - yet no less desirable."

Oh, this man was sinful. She chuckled.
"I should have known you had an ulterior motive."

His eyes grew serious, his voice soft.
"I have only one motive with you, Tarin, and there's nothing
ulterior about it."

She glanced away as a blush warmed her
cheeks. Yes, Rafe had made it abundantly clear he wanted to court
her. But why? Was it her, or was it her father's business that
interested him? When he kissed her, Tarin had no doubt of his
attraction to her. Yet, she knew the Sutherlands struggled
financially. How could she know for sure?