To Win Her Heart (26 page)

Levi was still meeting Mr. Spencer’s gaze later that evening—this time over the dinner table. Eden had pleaded with him to come to supper, and he hadn’t found the wherewithal to refuse. Not that he would have anyway. Playing the coward was no way to win her father’s respect. And outside of his own father, Levi craved this man’s respect more than any other.

“How long will you be staying, Mr. Spencer?” Harvey asked the question as he reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes and scooped a second helping onto his plate.

Calvin Spencer diverted his attention from Levi to smile warmly at the man to his right. “Only a few days, I’m afraid. You know how Marjorie gets when I’m away too long.”

The two shared a knowing look that seemed to eradicate any social barriers one would expect between employer and employee. Sharing a meal was unusual enough, but the two seemed as comfortable with each other as old friends. Eden’s father put on no airs around the Simses, and from the courtesy he showed to Chloe and Duncan, Levi sensed no criticism where they were concerned, either. The man’s censure appeared to be reserved solely for him.

The bread he was swallowing stuck in his throat as he made that observation. He grabbed his water glass and gulped enough liquid to dislodge the doughy bite, then stabbed his fork into the last piece of pan-fried ham on his plate in order to have an excuse not to add to the conversation. While he chewed, he surreptitiously wiped the sweat from his palms onto his trousers.

“I plan to call the town council together for a brief meeting tomorrow, and I’d like to stay for the auction on Saturday. After that, I’ll head home to Austin.”

Eden retrieved the napkin from her lap, dabbed her lips, then set it on the tablecloth beside her empty plate. “The ladies are organizing the auction items at the church tonight,” she said, “but I’m sure they would understand if I cut my time short in order to spend the evening with you. I’ll deliver my bouquet and help out for about thirty minutes, and then we can sit in the parlor and discuss whatever you’ve been reading lately. You know how I miss our chats.”

“I’d like that.” Calvin Spencer smiled at his daughter with such fondness that Levi’s chest ached.

What he wouldn’t give to share that kind of closeness with his father, to sit together after a long day, share stories about the odd repairs people brought in to the smithy or trade ideas about striking techniques or fire temperatures. Or maybe they’d talk about something completely unrelated to work—like the fine meal his mother had just cooked or the grandchildren who were chasing each other through the house. His kids and his brother’s, playing together like cousins should. Eden reading a book to the youngest ones and glancing up to smile at him.

Much as she was doing now.

He blinked.

“Levi and I have been exchanging ideas on a couple of novels recently.” Her face glowed as she looked at him, and then she shifted to address her father directly. “Jules Verne is one of Levi’s favorite authors, and we had some spirited discussions on
A
Journey to the Centre of the Earth
and
Around the World in Eighty Days
. He started working his way through
Ivanhoe
but hasn’t had a chance to finish it yet.”

“A reading man, huh?” Mr. Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes once again probing Levi. “You don’t seem the type.”

Levi shrugged. He knew the man was testing him, but he was afraid if he opened his mouth he’d stumble all over his words and end up looking the fool. So he held his tongue and prayed that the proverb about the man who shutteth his lips appearing wise proved true.

“Daddy, be nice,” Eden chided.

She scooted her chair back and rose to her feet. Levi tossed his napkin aside and jumped up, as well. The other men stood at a more decorous pace, and for an instant, Levi thought for sure he’d seen Mr. Spencer’s lips twitch as if to smile. But he must have been mistaken. The way the man stared at him left no room for levity.

There was no doubting Eden’s smile, however. She obviously adored her father and couldn’t wait to spend the evening with him. “If it’s all right with Verna,” she said, “I’ll head to the church now so we can have plenty of time to visit.”

“Of course it’s all right, girlie,” the housekeeper interjected. “Chloe and I will manage the dishes, and Harvey will see that Mr. McPherson makes it back to the boardinghouse in one piece. Won’t you, Harv?”

“Yes’m.” He nodded acquiescence, but his gaze roved to the rest of his potatoes as if he wondered if he’d get a chance to finish his supper before being pressed into service.

“Wonderful. I’ll fetch the pressed bouquet and—”

“I’ll walk you.”

Eden turned startled eyes on him. He knew he’d interrupted, but he couldn’t take the chance of her father offering to escort her before he could. After the constant scrutiny he’d endured, Levi craved a few private minutes with Eden. No, not craved—
required
. He was suffocating and needed a few moments alone with her like he needed air.

“Thank you, Levi.”

His chest eased a little.

He followed her out through the reading room and to the base of the stairs. She touched his arm, and his lungs expanded a bit more. “I’ll just be a minute. I’d like to change into a work dress.”

Her silky, deep red skirts swished as she pivoted to climb the stairs. Black lace cascaded behind her. No, her formal dinner dress would not be suitable attire. It certainly made a handsome picture, though, bringing out the red in her hair and showing off the trimness of her waist. Levi feasted on the sight until she disappeared into the upper hall.

“She’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?”

Levi nearly choked as his airway constricted again. Slowly he turned to face Calvin Spencer. The man stood leaning against the wall in a nonchalant pose, but his posture didn’t fool Levi. Eden’s father was poised to attack.

“She’s been hurt before,” he said in a low voice, pushing away from the wall. “I aim to see that it doesn’t happen again.”

No longer caring about his plan to remain silent, Levi stalked across the floor, indignation burning hot in his gut. “I would die before hurting her.” He ground out the vow through a clenched jaw. He’d not allow this man to lump him in the same category as his idiot clerk.

Spencer didn’t back down. “So your intentions are honorable, then?”

“They are.”

The man stared him full in the face for several seconds, then, apparently having satisfied himself, nodded once and stepped back. “Very well. I’ll be expecting your call in the morning, Mr. Grant. Eden informed me of her plans to visit one of the quarry families after breakfast, so you’ll have ample time to convince me of your . . .
intentions
before she returns.”

“I’ll be here,” Levi bit out.

“Be where?”

Levi spun around at the sound of Eden’s voice and swallowed hard. “Here,” he repeated, offering no further explanation.

She gave him an odd look but continued down the stairs, as lovely in dark blue calico as she had been in red silk. As he looked at her, some of the tension drained from his neck and shoulders. His mouth curved up in appreciation of her beauty, her heart, her spirit. This was a woman worth fighting for.

Eden glanced his way as she descended the final two stairs, and a smile broke out across her face. It beamed with joy and hinted at a future, a future he longed to share. Levi extended his arm and led her toward the hall. She stopped to kiss her father’s cheek and assure him she wouldn’t be gone long. As she collected her bonnet from the hall tree, Levi met eyes with Calvin Spencer one last time. But this time
he
was the one issuing the nonverbal challenge, making it clear that he would go to any lengths necessary to win Eden’s heart. Even beard the lion in his den.

The next morning, Levi watched for Eden’s buggy from the door of his shop, and once she passed on her way to the Dalton residence, he donned his Sunday coat and ran his fingers through his dampened hair. He stood in the doorway, staring down the street for a minute, and then inhaled a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh.

He’d debated for a long time last night whether or not to write out his intentions. It would be easier to present an eloquent argument, and he wouldn’t have to constantly worry about lisping like a toddler in front of the man who had the power to deny him Eden’s hand. But after praying and wrestling with the idea, he decided to forgo the paper. While he wanted to put his best foot forward, he also wanted to stand like a man.

Something nudged his leg. Levi reached down and patted Ornery’s head, thankful for the support. He rubbed the fur around the dog’s ears and patted his side. “If I’m not back by noon, boy, you might have to fetch the cavalry.”

Ornery pulled away and gave his head a shake. Levi snorted. “No? Fine friend you are.”

The dog barked a reprimand and padded off to the rear of the shop, leaving Levi with no excuse to dawdle.

As he made his way to the library, several people nodded to him or called out a greeting when he passed, their cheerful demeanor lending him confidence. The people of Spencer were coming to accept him. Maybe it wasn’t so implausible to think that Eden’s father might, too.

Verna showed him in when he arrived and led him to a study at the back of the house that he’d never seen before. Mr. Spencer sat behind a large oak desk . . . in Levi’s chair. The man had removed it from the reading room and placed it in his study. Of course, it was his chair to do with as he wished, but when he looked up from his papers and leaned back against the smooth leather with a satisfied grin curving his mouth, Levi had no doubt that Eden’s father understood the significance of the chair and was using it to gain the upper hand.

The man was only being protective of his daughter. Yet Levi couldn’t help wishing the fellow would cease toying with him.

Calvin Spencer stood and gestured toward the smaller chair in front of the desk, his smile warm, his eyes several degrees cooler. “Have a seat, Mr. Grant. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting.”

Levi did as he was told, folding his sizable frame between the arms of a cushioned chair better suited to a woman like Eden than a man of his bulk. Verna excused herself and closed the door behind her, leaving him alone in the lion’s den.

“My daughter speaks highly of you, Mr. Grant—as do many of the council members I paid calls on yesterday evening.” Spencer returned to his seat, the leather creaking as he sat. He rested his left elbow on the upholstered arm and tapped a finger against his temple while his gaze bored into Levi’s. “They tell me you run an honest shop and that your work is of admirable quality.”

Levi blinked, the compliment catching him off guard. “Thank . . . thank you.”

“Dave Cranford mentioned that you attend services regularly and that your heroic actions at the quarry this week helped save two lives.”

“I . . . ah . . .”

Spencer’s hand dropped away from his face, and his smile disappeared as he slanted forward in his chair. “You may be a decent blacksmith and handy to have around in an emergency, but what makes you think you are worthy of courting my daughter?”

“I’m not.”

The man’s eyes widened a bit at the simple statement, and Levi figured if he was ever going to take control of this interview, it would have to be now.

“Eden . . .”
is the finest
 . . . Levi cleared his throat and searched for better words. “I’ve never admired a woman more than I admire your daughter. Her warm heart, her quick mind and love of literature, her nurturing nature, her devotion to the Lord. Even if my former life were irreproachable, I doubt I would be worthy of her.”

“So, I take it your former life is
not
irreproachable?” Spencer rubbed his thumb along the edge of the desk in that deceptively casual way of his that Levi recognized for what it was—camouflage for an approaching strike. Nevertheless, Levi met his gaze straight on. He had no plans to hide anything from Eden’s father.

“I aimed my life in a poor direction a while back. Turned away from the trade my father taught me and took up prizefighting. Liked the money and the . . . approval it afforded. Had an undefeated record. Then a fellow came up to the line one day, talking big. Looked drunk, but I took him on anyway. Another fellow, a brother, I think, tried to pull the man away, but when the bell rang, he came at me, and I fought. He took a hit or two on the chin and began wavering. I gave him the option to quit, but he came at me again. I walloped him hard, thinking to put a quick end to it. He went down and never got up.