did you find it?” Nester asked, his voice scathing. “In the soup tureen?”
“Nester, please,” Leticia admonished.
Matthew saw the teasing gaiety in Finnea’s face grow brittle. But he was surprised when she seemed to swallow back one of the sharp retorts he had become well acquainted with on the train, and merely smiled.
“Again, thank you, Mr. Hawthorne,” Leticia said. “We were just about to have luncheon.” The woman’s body tensed, and Matthew knew she felt the need to invite him to join them but didn’t want to. “Would you care to stay?” she offered belatedly.
“No, but thank you.”
Nester shook his head. “He doesn’t want to stay because the whole house smells to high heaven from all the tinctures and concoctions Finnea has been making to heal anyone and everyone who comes within a mile of her. Before we know it, she’ll hang a sign out front to advertise. If I had somewhere else to go, I would. In fact, I think I’ll have luncheon downtown on my way to the office.”
Moments later he strode from the room, his mother and grandmother following.
Matthew turned back to Finnea. “You’re a healer?” he asked, an odd pounding flaring in his head.
Clearly distracted, she shook her head. “Not really. I simply learned a bit about herbs from Janji.” She looked at him. “Janji is the healer.”
“Ah,” he said as the pounding ceased. “Well, I suspect I owe you an apology for the… misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” The mischievous gleam returned. “I’d say you didn’t misunderstand; you out-and-out jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
A slight smile tugged at his lips and he stepped closer. “Perhaps.”
She was like a flame, drawing him in. Her form was slender but curved. His hands itched to trail across her body to cup her breasts, full and rounded; to brush against the rosebud nipples to bring them to taut peaks beneath her proper gown.
In that second, he gave up trying to understand why he wanted her. He only knew that he did.
“Jumping to wrong conclusions appears to be a habit of yours.” Her expression was impish. “As I recall, you did the same thing on the train.”
But at the mention of that day, her lips straightened into a bloodless line and she looked away.
Thoughts of kissing her fled. “So you still don’t want to talk about the train.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she answered, her chin rising as she busied herself brushing nonexistent wrinkles from her gown.
“So you said last night.”
A stillness came over her as she drew a deep breath. She gave one final dash to the soft cashmere, sighed, and looked him in the eye. “Oh, all right, if you must have it. You saved my life. I’m indebted to you. I can never repay you, but I suspect I’ll have to try. There, do you feel better now?”
He stepped back sharply, his reaction swift and angry. “I don’t want payment.” He wanted her out of his thoughts, out of his life. “That wasn’t what I meant. I was simply inquiring after your well-being.”
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine.” She moved her leg around in proof. “See?” Then she met his gaze. “And I will repay you, somehow. Just like you said about yourself in Africa, I repay my debts, too.”
He wished he had never brought her the bracelet. “Forget it,” he said tightly.
Finnea pressed her eyes closed. “If only I could,” she whispered, surprising him with the despair he sensed as much as recognized.
“Could what?”
She didn’t answer at first. “Nothing. I just wonder if I’ll ever get used to it here,” she equivocated as she walked to the window and looked out. “Buildings everywhere. People racing about. Carriages hurtling through the crowded lanes. And not a goat roaming the streets, or a chicken in a yard. It is all so strange.” She paused. “But intriguing,” she added with an unexpected laugh.
It had been that way last night at dinner as well. One minute she was filled with delight
“Nester, please,” Leticia admonished.
Matthew saw the teasing gaiety in Finnea’s face grow brittle. But he was surprised when she seemed to swallow back one of the sharp retorts he had become well acquainted with on the train, and merely smiled.
“Again, thank you, Mr. Hawthorne,” Leticia said. “We were just about to have luncheon.” The woman’s body tensed, and Matthew knew she felt the need to invite him to join them but didn’t want to. “Would you care to stay?” she offered belatedly.
“No, but thank you.”
Nester shook his head. “He doesn’t want to stay because the whole house smells to high heaven from all the tinctures and concoctions Finnea has been making to heal anyone and everyone who comes within a mile of her. Before we know it, she’ll hang a sign out front to advertise. If I had somewhere else to go, I would. In fact, I think I’ll have luncheon downtown on my way to the office.”
Moments later he strode from the room, his mother and grandmother following.
Matthew turned back to Finnea. “You’re a healer?” he asked, an odd pounding flaring in his head.
Clearly distracted, she shook her head. “Not really. I simply learned a bit about herbs from Janji.” She looked at him. “Janji is the healer.”
“Ah,” he said as the pounding ceased. “Well, I suspect I owe you an apology for the… misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” The mischievous gleam returned. “I’d say you didn’t misunderstand; you out-and-out jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
A slight smile tugged at his lips and he stepped closer. “Perhaps.”
She was like a flame, drawing him in. Her form was slender but curved. His hands itched to trail across her body to cup her breasts, full and rounded; to brush against the rosebud nipples to bring them to taut peaks beneath her proper gown.
In that second, he gave up trying to understand why he wanted her. He only knew that he did.
“Jumping to wrong conclusions appears to be a habit of yours.” Her expression was impish. “As I recall, you did the same thing on the train.”
But at the mention of that day, her lips straightened into a bloodless line and she looked away.
Thoughts of kissing her fled. “So you still don’t want to talk about the train.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she answered, her chin rising as she busied herself brushing nonexistent wrinkles from her gown.
“So you said last night.”
A stillness came over her as she drew a deep breath. She gave one final dash to the soft cashmere, sighed, and looked him in the eye. “Oh, all right, if you must have it. You saved my life. I’m indebted to you. I can never repay you, but I suspect I’ll have to try. There, do you feel better now?”
He stepped back sharply, his reaction swift and angry. “I don’t want payment.” He wanted her out of his thoughts, out of his life. “That wasn’t what I meant. I was simply inquiring after your well-being.”
“I’m fine. Perfectly fine.” She moved her leg around in proof. “See?” Then she met his gaze. “And I will repay you, somehow. Just like you said about yourself in Africa, I repay my debts, too.”
He wished he had never brought her the bracelet. “Forget it,” he said tightly.
Finnea pressed her eyes closed. “If only I could,” she whispered, surprising him with the despair he sensed as much as recognized.
“Could what?”
She didn’t answer at first. “Nothing. I just wonder if I’ll ever get used to it here,” she equivocated as she walked to the window and looked out. “Buildings everywhere. People racing about. Carriages hurtling through the crowded lanes. And not a goat roaming the streets, or a chicken in a yard. It is all so strange.” She paused. “But intriguing,” she added with an unexpected laugh.
It had been that way last night at dinner as well. One minute she was filled with delight
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