His Mountain Miss (Smoky Mountain Matches) (20 page)

The hope surging within him was wholly inappropriate. And petty. Selfish. He desired her happiness.
But not with Tom, right? You want her to be happy with
you.

That was impossible, of course. He knew it, understood it, but that didn’t stop his foolish heart from yearning for the unattainable.

Another couple approached Lucian, and Nathan moved off with a quiet farewell. It took supreme effort of will to focus on their words. Megan dominated his thoughts. She was there in his peripheral vision, silently drawing him, making it all but impossible to make sane conversation. Had she decided not to marry the barbershop owner? Or worse...had Tom hurt her? His hands curled into fists. If he had...

The remainder of the night dragged. His guests weren’t as eager to leave as he was for them to leave. He craved a few minutes alone with Megan. More than a few, actually. He was well aware that his time with her was growing short, every minute slipping past another minute lost to them.

It was nearing eleven when the last guest slipped out the door, and he returned to the dining room to find her assisting Mrs. Calhoun and three other young ladies he’d hired to help with tonight’s festivities. Dirty dishes and cups littered the parlor and library, as well as the dining room. Cleanup would take at least an hour.

Impatient, determined to have her to himself, he stepped in front of her and took the plates from her hands, setting them aside. “Let’s go for a stroll in the gardens.”

“It’s late.”

“Fred lit the gas lamps, and the weather is fine.”

She worried her lower lip, gestured to the room. “I should help with the cleanup.”

“That’s what these ladies are getting paid for.” He tilted his head at the women watching them with interest as they went about their work. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t you like to see the gardens in the moonlight?” This may be their last chance to say a proper goodbye.

Sadness lurked in the liquid depths of her sea-blue eyes. “All right. I’ll come with you.”

With her hand in the crook of his elbow, he led her outside into the star-studded night. Balmy air, sweetened with the scent of magnolias, enveloped them in a warm cocoon. The fat, pearlescent moon dominated the night sky. Gas lamps situated along the path flickered, points of light in the shadows.

Their footsteps against the stones were muted. “Are you going to see Sarah and Owen one last time before you go?”

“I doubt it. I’m not good at goodbyes.” This one he couldn’t escape, however difficult. Megan was too special, too dear.

“Isn’t that what this is? A goodbye?” She stopped and angled towards him, one pale brow arched in challenge.

“Yes. I can’t deny that it is.”

Lips compressing, she fell silent. Wouldn’t look at him, diverted her gaze to the wildflowers behind him. He was at a loss for words. What could he say that would convey how much she’d come to mean to him that wouldn’t also confuse her?

“I heard your mother and sister are coming home at the end of next week,” he said as they took up walking again. “I wish I could’ve made their acquaintance.”

“Me, too. I’m certain they both would’ve taken to you as quickly as the rest of my family.” She smiled faintly. “I’m eager to have my mother home again. Jessica, too. Jane needs her twin now more than ever.”

His brows drew together. “Is something going on with Jane?”

Megan stopped again, her hand dropping away. “She fancies herself in love with Tom.”

Poor Jane. And Megan. What a terrible fix to find herself in. “I see.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She lifted her chin. “I returned the ring. I’m not going to marry him.”

Lucian stilled, barely breathing as relief and happiness swept through him. She turned him down. She wasn’t going to marry Tom, after all.

The question was...what was he going to do about it?

Chapter Twenty-One

M
egan watched the play of emotions across Lucian’s face. Hope sprouted. He’d said he cared for her.... Was it possible his feelings ran deeper than what he’d conveyed?

“May I ask why?”

“I don’t love him.”
You’re the one I love,
she wanted to shout. “Not the way a woman is supposed to love her husband. A dear friend is all he’ll ever be.”

Swallowing hard, he edged closer, skimmed his knuckles along her cheekbone. His eyes shone bright as the stars above, illuminating the darkened corners of her heart. “Megan,
mon bien-aime,
” he whispered, his warm breath caressing her jaw.

Capturing his hand, she pressed her cheek into his palm. Being with him like this made her dizzy with joy. “I’ve heard you say that before. What does it mean?”

He paused. “My beloved.”

Megan could only stare up at him. Was that the same as saying he loved her? “Lucian—”

His lips cut her off, his kiss marked with a yearning that matched her own. The hands cradling her face trembled. The trace of desperation in his touch worried her, however.

When he pulled his mouth away and pressed her into his chest, his heart thundered beneath her ear. He couldn’t leave. How could she go on without him?

Easing back, she gazed into his dear face, holding nothing back. “Please don’t go, Lucian. I love you. Stay here. With me.”

He froze. “
Non.
Don’t say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” She left the circle of his arms, stung by his response. “It’s the truth.”

The intense regret marring his expression deflated her hopes. “It won’t work.”

“Why not? Because you’re a polished city fellow and I’m a simple mountain girl?”

“No, of course not. To be honest, I’ve grown quite fond of your mountains. I consider the people here my friends.”

“So it’s me you don’t want.” Turning away, she hugged her arms about her waist, wishing herself far from here. Humiliation warred with hurt. “I thought...”

Lucian stood very close behind her. “Please forgive me. It was never my intention to lead you astray, to hurt you,” he answered, self-recrimination straining his husky voice. Settling his hands lightly on her shoulders, he turned her towards him. “The truth is...I—I do want you.”

“Wanting someone isn’t the same as loving, Lucian.”

His gaze burned into hers, and for a second, he allowed her to see the depths of his feelings. But then he threw his hands up in defeat. “What does it matter what I feel, anyway? It won’t change anything. It can’t.”

“Because of your parents? There’s no guarantee we’ll repeat their mistakes.”

“I can’t take that risk. Don’t you see? This whole thing between you and me,” he protested as he motioned between them, “it mirrors my parents’ situation. I won’t make the same mistakes as my father. I saw what it did to my mother, and I will never do that to you.”

He loved her, she was convinced, but he was fighting it. She had to try to convince him to take a chance. “You are not your father. I’m not Lucinda. We’re different people, you and me. We can have a different life. You just have to be willing to try.”

His shoulders rigid, implacable, he set his jaw. His eyes had lost their brilliance and were now dull. Flat. “I refuse to risk your happiness.”

On this point, he was resolute. He hadn’t changed, not really, was still the jaded aristocrat determined to follow duty’s path.

“Then I guess this is goodbye.” It hurt to breathe.

He grimaced. Stood statue-still, hands fisted at his sides. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

With one last parting glance, she attempted to memorize his features. Then she turned and walked away, leaving a part of her heart behind.

* * *

“I have an announcement to make.”

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Josh sat relaxed in his chair, one arm slung about Kate’s shoulders. Conversation ceased. Setting down her fork, Megan swallowed the last bite of pie, her gaze meeting Kate’s across the table. A becoming blush stained her cheeks, and her green eyes sparkled.

Josh pulled his wife closer, and the two exchanged secretive smiles. “Kate and I are expecting.”

Mary gasped, jumped up to bestow hugs on the happy couple. Sam patted Josh heartily on the back. Nathan shook his hand and offered his congratulations. Nicole and Jane took turns embracing Kate, and then it was Megan’s turn.

“I’m so happy for you both.” Megan gave Kate’s fingers an affectionate squeeze. “How long have you known?”

“We’ve had our suspicions these last couple of weeks. I’ve had several dizzy spells.”

“And your eating habits have changed drastically.” Megan laughed at her friend’s sheepish expression.

“It’s true. If I keep this up, I’ll be as big as a house by the time the baby comes.” Her eyes went soft and dreamy. “I wonder if it will be a boy or a girl.”

Megan smiled broadly, praying her friend wouldn’t detect the prick of jealousy her happiness incited. “Considering Juliana just had a boy, I think you and Josh should have a girl.”

“Mary would be thrilled to have a granddaughter.”

“You do realize it’s out of our hands, right, Goldilocks?” Josh inserted himself in the conversation, his blue eyes dancing with merriment.

In the face of this dear couple’s joy, Megan blinked away the moisture gathering in her eyes. She was truly grateful God had blessed them with their heart’s desire. Feeling sorry for herself in this moment was not an option.

“I’m not sure I like the sound of Cousin Megan,” she said. “Auntie Megan sounds much better, don’t you think?”

Josh tweaked one of her curls like he’d done when they were younger. “Whatever you’re called, she or he will adore you as much as we do.”

“Now you’re just trying to make me cry,” she protested, swatting his arm.

Nicole spoke up, the wheels in her head clearly turning. “I can go ahead and make up baby clothes in neutral colors and then, if it’s a girl, I can add ruffles and overlays.”

Surprised pleasure brightened Kate’s expression. “That would be wonderful, Nicole. Thank you.”

The raven-haired girl shrugged. “Practice makes perfect. I need lots of experience if I plan on having a successful boutique.”

Kate and Megan shared a look. Typical. Nicole’s purposes served herself first, others second. At least Kate and the baby would benefit.

“Once the baby comes, Jessica and I will bring food over so you can rest,” Jane volunteered.

“Thank you, Jane.” Kate’s smile was gentle.

Megan looked at the couple, once again battling melancholy. Just because her dream wasn’t coming true didn’t mean she couldn’t rejoice with others.

“Yours won’t be the only new addition this winter,” she added. “Rachel and Cole are expecting. They’re due at Christmastime.”

Her friend had pulled her aside at Lucian’s to relay the good news.

Josh grinned. “Cole told me last night. He could hardly contain himself—he’s so eager to support Rachel in any way he can.”

“That’s understandable,” Nathan inserted, “considering he wasn’t around for Abby’s birth.”

Megan nodded her agreement. She had a feeling Cole was going to stick to Rachel’s side like glue. He was overly protective of her and Abby, no doubt due to the fact he’d nearly lost his chance with them.

The group dispersed, the men settling in the living room with their coffee while the women cleared the table and washed dishes. Megan was quiet as she worked, lost in her painful world. A world without Lucian.

You knew a happy ending wasn’t possible,
a voice accused,
yet you fell for him anyway.

All yesterday, she’d watched the lane, hoping against hope he’d come to her. And this morning at church, she’d waited for him to show. He hadn’t.

She wasn’t certain how she was going to get through tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the coming weeks.

Her vision blurred. Hastily wiping the table clean of crumbs, Megan slipped out the back door. She doubted she’d be missed. Mary and Kate were washing dishes, engaged in a lively conversation about the baby, Jane listening intently as she dried. Nicole had slunk off somewhere.

With no one around to witness her breakdown, Megan allowed the tears to fall freely, the loss of her dreams a gaping wound in her chest. She stumbled into the barn’s concealing shelter. Sinking onto the first hay bale she encountered, she buried her face in her hands.

It feels as though my life is ending, Lord. I’ve always considered myself an optimistic sort of person, not often given to the doldrums, but right now...I’m lower than I’ve ever been and I don’t know how I’m supposed to cope.

“There you are.”

Startled, she looked up to see Nathan coming towards her. The moment he noticed her tears, he lengthened his stride. Compassion tugged at his mouth. Lowering his tall frame onto the hay beside her, he pulled her into a hug.

Josh, Nathan and even Caleb were like brothers to her, fiercely protective and always there to comfort her. Without them, she never would’ve survived her father’s sudden death, the hardships her family had faced afterward—financial as well as the day-to-day running of a farm—and more recently, the absence of her beloved sister Juliana.

After a while, he tilted her chin up, silver gaze assessing. “This is because of Beaumont, isn’t it?”

“I love him. And I believe he loves me.” When she attempted to wipe the moisture from her cheeks, he produced a handkerchief from his pocket. “But he’s too afraid of repeating his parents’ mistakes to give us a chance. He doesn’t trust in love.”

“Would you like for me to talk to him?”

“No! I’m not a little girl anymore, Nathan. I don’t need you to fight my battles.” She touched his cheek. “Although, I do appreciate the offer.”

“I wish I could make things better for you.”

“I know.” She gazed at him with rueful affection.

“Would an afternoon of target practice help get your mind off things? At least for a little while?” His smile urged her to say yes.

“Yes, I believe it would,” she agreed more for his sake than for hers. “I’ll go home and get my gun.”

He stood and held out his hand. “How about we go together?”

“In other words, you don’t want to leave me alone.”

He winked. “You got it, Goldilocks.”

She took his hand, allowed him to pull her up. “You’re a good man, Nathan O’Malley. One day, a very lucky young lady is going to come along and relieve you of your bachelor state.”

“I happen to like being a bachelor,” he protested. “Mark my words—you won’t see me walking the aisle anytime soon.”

* * *

“The carriage is ready, sir.” Smith appeared in the entrance to Charles’s study.

Seated at the desk, Lucian glanced out at the predawn darkness. “How bad is the rain?”

“Barely a drizzle, sir. However, it’s difficult to tell at this point whether or not the weather will improve. Would you like to wait until after dawn?”

Lightly rubbing his cast in a vain effort to relieve the itching beneath, Lucian sighed. Another delay? Was God trying to tell him something?

“That would probably be best. See to the horses, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” He removed himself at once.

The tick of the mantel clock mocked him, each one a strike against his heart.
You’re leaving her. You’re leaving her.

He let his head fall back, closed his eyes. Beyond exhausted, he feared this weariness would be difficult to shake. Lack of sleep had little to do with it. This was a soul-deep yearning for the one woman who’d seen through his austere facade to the real man beneath, who’d challenged him, comforted him. Loved him.

He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that she loved him. Her confession had shocked him; her plea for him to stay nearly brought him to his knees. How he’d longed to declare his own feelings.... Revisiting all the reasons his fears were sound had prevented him. After she’d gone, he’d sat in the garden until the wee hours of the morning, replaying their conversation. Arguing with himself. When he’d at last tumbled into bed, he’d dreamed of her, her anguish a tangible thing. He’d awoken in a sweat, trembling with the need to go to her. To fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness.

The past two days and nights of torment had shaken his convictions. If he left, he’d be leaving here half a man.

What am I supposed to do, Lord? By refusing to give us a chance, I’m doing the one thing I’ve dreaded doing—I’m hurting her. And myself.

Lucian smoothed the worn, faded cover of his mother’s Bible. Unable to sleep for thoughts of Megan, he’d come downstairs around four o’clock and settled in with a cup of coffee to read. He’d found himself in the first book of Corinthians, where his mother had underlined an entire chapter about love, of all things. One verse in particular stuck in his mind.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Was he truly prepared to live without it? To never lay eyes on Megan again?

“Sir?” Smith reappeared. “The rain has let up a bit. Shall I ready the carriage now?”

Lucian stood, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “No.”

“No?”

“I want you to unload the trunks.”

Smith’s brow furrowed slightly. “As you wish, sir.”

“Wait.” He held out a hand. “Don’t unload them yet. She may not accept me.”

Reaching inside his coat, he retrieved a handkerchief and, laying it on the desk, peeled back the edges to reveal the disassembled bleeding-heart flower. He glanced at his servant, who was watching him with barely concealed concern. “I’m embarking on a mission of a most delicate nature, Smith. Will you help me?”

His eyes flared wide at the request. “Anything you ask, I will do my utmost to oblige.”

“I appreciate your loyalty, Smith. First, I’ll need a pair of rabbits...”

* * *

Megan awoke shortly after dawn to the
splat, splat, splat
of rain against the porch. She lay beneath the quilt for a long time staring out the window at the smoky gray clouds, her heaviness of spirit a perfect reflection of the gloom.

Maybe the weather will delay his departure.