Heaven Scent (16 page)

Shaking his head, Rafe didn’t reply. He
wasn’t about to voice his suspicions about Kent until he had proof.
Maybe today was his lucky day.

Suddenly, a loud crash sounded in the
distance. Looking up at the massive ship before them, Rafe saw a
stack of crates heaped haphazardly near the ship’s railing. A man
in a long coat and top hat yelled at one of the crewmen.

Kent
.

“Rafe, do you see him?” Patrick’s elbow
touched Rafe’s side.

“Yes.”

“What is he doing on Hunter’s
ship?”

Good question. If Kent was into opium,
wouldn’t he have someone to take care of the menial tasks? Opium
was a lucrative business. Kent could easily afford to hire help. If
not, what the hell was he doing up there?

“Does Hunter usually allow clients to
board his ships?”

Patrick shook his head. “No, his
policies are essentially the same as ours. It’s a safety risk, not
to mention a potential for loss of goods.”

Another crewman joined the men at the
railing. The two workers bent to right the crates as Kent looked
on. They had three stacked and had just picked up the fourth when
Rafe stiffened, the sting to his gut so sharp, it stole his
breath.

On the side of the crate,
in bold black letters, was the name
Worthington
.

#####

If her heart didn’t slow, Tarin would
have to find Dr. Kent and request medical care.

Pulling back the parlor curtain to look
out the front window, Tarin released a deep breath. Rafe was due at
her house any minute and much to her dismay, excitement bubbled
within.

Not that she would admit that to him or
anyone else. She was still determined to remain unmarried until she
had her medical degree.

However, she hadn’t expected to feel so
disheartened when she received his note yesterday, stating he would
not attend her. Disappointment had plagued her so heavily that not
even a banner day collecting petition signatures with Kit had
lifted her spirits.

Had she taken her emotions, her passion
for him too far? Was he coming by today to rescind his courtship
request?

Tarin fisted her hands in her skirt.
She had to make a point of acting the proper lady. She was British
nobility for heavens sake, trained by the best etiquette
instructors in England. She’d never had a problem displaying the
utmost decorum in any given situation. Surely, she could act a lady
in the company of a Brahmin gentleman.

Spotting his carriage down the street,
Tarin dropped the curtain and ran to the mirror. Perusing herself
for the hundredth time that morning, she pinched her cheeks to gain
a little color then ran to the sofa. Plopping down, she
straightened her jade muslin skirt and picked up a female medical
journal she had on the center table. Flipping through the pages,
she listened as Hobbs opened the front door and spoke to Rafe. The
parlor door opened a second later.

Rafe entered first, carrying a crate
the size of a very large chest. Hobbs followed immediately with
another of the same size.

Excitement sprang her from the sofa.
Rafe was so handsome. Just the sight of him stole her breath,
regardless of how often she saw him. Her heart beat incredibly
fast, as though it wanted to jump from her chest and greet Rafe
itself.

“Just place it over here, Hobbs.” Rafe
nodded to the floor in front of the opposite end of the sofa. He
placed his own crate beside it as Hobbs exited the room with a
click of the door.

Rafe dusted off his hands as his gaze
met hers. “Lady Worthington.” He gave her a curt nod.

She offered a small curtsy and a smile.
“Mr. Sutherland.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It is good to
see you.”

He stood poised as though he wanted to
stalk across the room, but he did not move. Mild thunder swirled in
the depths of his dark eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched at
his sides. He said nothing.

Tarin’s chest felt weighted with
chains. Did he not miss her, too?

“What is in the crates?” she asked,
trying to lighten the mood.

His sly grin was the best thing she had
seen in two days. “A surprise for you.”

Catching her breath, Tarin eyed the
crates from where she stood. He had gotten her a gift!

“For me?” She started towards
them.

Shaking his head, he stepped in front
of them. “You can’t see until we return from the park.”

She stopped, hands on hips. “That is
cruel! Why do you tease me with a large gift only to tell me I
cannot have it? Why can‘t we go to the park after I see
it?”

He chuckled. “Because I have a feeling
you will want to spend all day on it and I have an appointment this
afternoon at two and a half. This way, we won‘t have to rush our
meal and you can spend all evening basking in the wonder of
it.”

She gasped on a smile. “You
are
the
most
arrogant man.”

Rafe’s laughter drew her to him like he
towed her on a string. She stopped a foot in front of him. “You are
very confident I will like it.”

He stared down at her, his brown eyes
twinkling like the stars. “Oh, I know you will. You’ll probably
remain hidden away in this house for months after this.”

She reached up to touch his vest, but
caught herself. “What if I promise to show the utmost patience
during our meal - can I see it before we go to the
park?”

He studied her, his gaze brushing over
her hair, her face, before he spoke. “Well, we could just picnic in
here and you could enjoy your gift as we eat.”

She blinked her eyes on a frown.
“Picnic? In the parlor?”

He grinned. “Why not? I can move this
table out of the way and spread out the blanket on the
floor.”

Moving past her, Rafe proceeded to do
just that. In minutes, they had a feast spread out on the blanket
and the crates pulled over within reach. Tarin had never dreamed of
such a breach in propriety. Leave it to Rafe to go against proper
decorum.

With utmost care, Rafe helped her to
the floor, her back against the sofa. Sitting down beside her, his
scent wafted over to fill her nostrils. Breathing it in, Tarin
wondered if her father could have it bottled for her in
Paris.

Reaching into a crate, Rafe’s shoulder
brushed hers as he pulled out a book. He handed it to her with a
tentative smile.

Looking down, it shocked her to see a
medical journal on fatal diseases. Her gaze shot to his before she
glanced at the two crates and back.

Her heart pounded heavily. “What is all
of this?”

“I bought Doc Longfellow’s medical
library. For you.”

Tarin stilled. She could feel tears
building behind her eyes.

“You bought…” she glanced at the crates
again, “you bought all of this… for me?”

He nodded. “You’re going to need a
library when you become a physician. I thought this would give you
a good start.”

Elation made her squeal. Throwing her
arms around his neck, Tarin hugged him tight. If she had ever
doubted Rafe’s support of her career, Tarin could never say so
again. He had given her the greatest gift imaginable - his belief
in her.

Rafe’s arms encircled her, holding her
close. Tarin never wanted to move.

“Do you like them or should I pack them
up?”

Pulling back, she feigned outrage as
tears swam in her eyes. “Don’t you dare touch them.” She pressed
her lips to his and drew away. “This is the most thoughtful gift
you could have given me.”

His grin was the one that usually made
her knees weak. Fortunately, she already sat on the
floor.

“Well, at least now you know when it
comes to gifts, it’s all downhill from here.”

Laughing, she said, “You have spoiled
me far beyond merit. You are a sweet, sweet man.”

He set her away from him and busied
himself with gathering their food. “Don’t say that. You’re going to
ruin my reputation.”

She smiled as she picked up the book
and opened it to the table of contents. “It will remain our
secret.”

After handing her a plate, Rafe
returned to his position beside her. He stretched out his legs,
crossing them at the ankles before setting his plate on his lap. He
tugged at his cravat.

“Is it too tight?” She swallowed a
morsel of cheese.

He groaned. “I hate these
things.”

She grinned. He may have been raised in
Boston Brahmin society, but Rafe Sutherland was a man of Texas.
“Remove it.”

Frowning, he stared at her as though
gauging whether she jested or not.

“Rafe, we have gone well beyond
propriety on many occasions. Removing your cravat would be the
least of them all.”

A slow smile blossomed on his face. He
worked at the cravat around his neck. “I see I’m having a positive
influence on you already.” Freeing it from his neck, he made a
production of tossing it behind him on the sofa.

She laughed. “When I first
met you, I think I referred to it as
scandalous
influence.”

He gave her a rakish grin. “It‘s all a
matter of perspective, sweetheart.”

Eating her food quickly, Tarin picked
up the book in her lap as Rafe continued to eat. Reading allowed,
she surprised herself with the words that came from her
mouth.

“Based on autopsies, it is believed
that were a patient able to undergo surgery, some forms of cancer
could be removed from the body - if the ulcer or growth has not
attached itself to nearby tissue.”

Tarin’s heart pounded as air filled her
lungs. Could it be? “Rafe, do you realize what this means?” She
grabbed his arm.

He stopped eating to look at her. She
didn’t wait for his response.

“With Dr. Morton’s
discovery of ether here two years ago, we have that ability
now
. With my mother’s
cancer, we now have a chance of curing it.”

He frowned, his face a mask of
uncertainty. “Tarin -”

“If I get into the college,” she
continued, her voice rising in excitement, “and it does open up for
full medical degrees, I could study surgery. I could cure her
cancer -”

He set his plate aside. “Tarin -” he
said, with more force.

“Don’t you see?” She interrupted him
once again. “If I could cure cancer, she would be alive
today.”

Rafe shocked her with a hand under her
chin. He turned her to face him. His eyes were dark, troubled
beneath his furrowed brows. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, “I know
what you’re doing. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“But I know I could finally do
something -”

He placed a finger over her lips.
“Tarin, no matter how hard or how much you work… you can’t bring
her back.”

Rafe’s words sealed her throat. Blood
rushed to her ears, air clogged her lungs. Her nerve-endings
tingled like painful pinpricks. Her heart pounded in wild,
irregular beats, as a huge tidal wave of pain washed over
her.

She burst into tears.

The next thing she new, Rafe held her
on his lap, his arms wrapped tight around her. He kissed her temple
as Tarin cried her grief.

“I tried so hard, Rafe. I fed her, I
bathed her, I read to her.”

He kissed the top of her
head.

“I sat by her,” her breath caught on a
sob, “every day. I watched her every move, looking for signs of
pain, trying to keep her from getting worse.”

Her breath caught again as she
shuttered. “That last day, she said my name.” Her gaze met his.
“She talked to me, really talked to me, and held me in her arms. I
was the happiest little girl in London.” Her voice filled with
tears again. “Then she... she said she had to go. And she just…
died. Right there - next to me.”

She buried her face against his vest.
“I tried so hard but it wasn’t enough.”

Rafe squeezed her against him, the heat
of his body soothing against the frost that had settled inside
her.

“Tarin, you never do anything halfway.”
His voice echoed inside his chest where her ear laid against it.
“You were probably the best caregiver she had - even at your young
age.”

She snuggled against him. “I can
remember the priest walking into the room. He had already been
there twice before, to give last rights. She had always lived
beyond them. This time, she was gone before he got there. I
wondered what good he was to her now? Why was he there?” She
tightened her hold on him. “I was so angry. I kept thinking that if
he had gotten there sooner, maybe she would have lived
again.”

She shook her head against his chest.
“Looking back, I realize he was there for us rather than my mother.
But he could have done nothing to prepare me, or my father, for
God’s will. The irony is that the only thing I remember of the
funeral is his hand on my head, telling me she was with God now and
no longer sick.” She sat back in the circle of his arms. “I hold
onto that to this day. It is a comfort.”