tender parts of this man, potent with his sensitivity, were more dangerous than all the other parts of him. Merry looked away, as though to study the valley, so he could not see and read her thoughts in her eyes. Shay had been right. Being on land with the Captain was a curse, not a blessing. It was not Morgan who drew women to him. It was Varian.
Over her shoulder, she heard Varian say, “You need to be more careful, Little One.”
Merry didn’t look at him. Yes. More careful. But I am not a careful girl, Varian. You must have care with me.
Killing her thoughts, she turned her face and saw he was staring at her feet. She looked in the direction of his gaze. She’d climbed the path without her shoes, and there were cuts here and there on her pale flesh. She had not felt a single cut as it was made. It seemed to her a distressing omen underscoring her danger with him. She had cut her feet to ribbons following him and hadn’t even known she’d done it.
Not giving her time to react, Varian lifted Merry from the bench and said, “I will carry you back to the house, Little One.”
The mold of their bodies was so close, it was hard for Merry to tell which breath that passed between them belonged to her and which were his. The gentle care of his hold gave the sensation of floating downward on the path.
“I can walk,” she said.
Varian’s answering smile was soft and amused. “Don’t be foolish.”
Merry hid her face against his chest. Too late, Varian. I am a foolish girl. I am in love with you.
CHAPTER THREE
Merry stayed in bed several days. The sisters had cleaned and bandaged her feet upon her return from the chapel. The burning sting of her flesh had miraculously faded after a single night. It was no doubt due to the vile smelling concoction April had prepared. It proved a remarkable cure, but Merry used the injury as an excuse to hide in her bedchamber from Varian.
She did not see Varian until the third night. He stopped at her sickbed to inquire on her recovery. Abruptly, he informed her that he would be gone to Richmond on the morrow. He made no explanation for his journey and the thought of him surrounded by fawning companions and lovers did not set pleasantly upon Merry. She could feel the ache of missing him and the ache, of what she reluctantly admitted was jealousy, though he had not even left her yet.
His visit was brief, no more than few minutes. His demeanor was courteous and distant. When the door clicked closed behind him, she sat in her bed, hugging her legs with her arms and sent a frantic plea to heaven to allow her someday understand him. The days spent hiding were a foolish endeavor since he had left her in solitude without argument. Now he would put even more distance between them by leaving her with the Devereaux sisters at Winderly.
The next morning she rose from her bed early and dressed quickly. She would go downstairs before Varian left, to breakfast with him. It seemed an important thing for her to do, though she knew not why. Nor did she know why she stopped at the mirror, pinching her cheeks to add a touch of color to her face.
Varian’s housekeeper was surprised to see her bouncing down the stairs and the Devereaux sisters were even more astounded by the vigor in which she entered the breakfast room.
At the table, Merry froze. The scones Varian liked in the morning were not among the morning fare and only two places were set. She frowned. Varian had already left and he had not even said goodbye to her. She felt her spirits drop and a strange kind of unease over having not seen him before his departure.
The routine resumed with her back in the care of the sisters. The days were long, the nights longer, and Winderly lost much of its magic now that the Captain was not here. The quiet lent to too much thinking for Merry.
Love had opened new depths within her and for the first time she thought to ask herself in a mature way what it was she wanted from life. The love of a
Over her shoulder, she heard Varian say, “You need to be more careful, Little One.”
Merry didn’t look at him. Yes. More careful. But I am not a careful girl, Varian. You must have care with me.
Killing her thoughts, she turned her face and saw he was staring at her feet. She looked in the direction of his gaze. She’d climbed the path without her shoes, and there were cuts here and there on her pale flesh. She had not felt a single cut as it was made. It seemed to her a distressing omen underscoring her danger with him. She had cut her feet to ribbons following him and hadn’t even known she’d done it.
Not giving her time to react, Varian lifted Merry from the bench and said, “I will carry you back to the house, Little One.”
The mold of their bodies was so close, it was hard for Merry to tell which breath that passed between them belonged to her and which were his. The gentle care of his hold gave the sensation of floating downward on the path.
“I can walk,” she said.
Varian’s answering smile was soft and amused. “Don’t be foolish.”
Merry hid her face against his chest. Too late, Varian. I am a foolish girl. I am in love with you.
CHAPTER THREE
Merry stayed in bed several days. The sisters had cleaned and bandaged her feet upon her return from the chapel. The burning sting of her flesh had miraculously faded after a single night. It was no doubt due to the vile smelling concoction April had prepared. It proved a remarkable cure, but Merry used the injury as an excuse to hide in her bedchamber from Varian.
She did not see Varian until the third night. He stopped at her sickbed to inquire on her recovery. Abruptly, he informed her that he would be gone to Richmond on the morrow. He made no explanation for his journey and the thought of him surrounded by fawning companions and lovers did not set pleasantly upon Merry. She could feel the ache of missing him and the ache, of what she reluctantly admitted was jealousy, though he had not even left her yet.
His visit was brief, no more than few minutes. His demeanor was courteous and distant. When the door clicked closed behind him, she sat in her bed, hugging her legs with her arms and sent a frantic plea to heaven to allow her someday understand him. The days spent hiding were a foolish endeavor since he had left her in solitude without argument. Now he would put even more distance between them by leaving her with the Devereaux sisters at Winderly.
The next morning she rose from her bed early and dressed quickly. She would go downstairs before Varian left, to breakfast with him. It seemed an important thing for her to do, though she knew not why. Nor did she know why she stopped at the mirror, pinching her cheeks to add a touch of color to her face.
Varian’s housekeeper was surprised to see her bouncing down the stairs and the Devereaux sisters were even more astounded by the vigor in which she entered the breakfast room.
At the table, Merry froze. The scones Varian liked in the morning were not among the morning fare and only two places were set. She frowned. Varian had already left and he had not even said goodbye to her. She felt her spirits drop and a strange kind of unease over having not seen him before his departure.
The routine resumed with her back in the care of the sisters. The days were long, the nights longer, and Winderly lost much of its magic now that the Captain was not here. The quiet lent to too much thinking for Merry.
Love had opened new depths within her and for the first time she thought to ask herself in a mature way what it was she wanted from life. The love of a
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