he wasn’t about to go sit outside where he’d be seen. The truth was that he couldn’t bear to see hismother’s garden in ruins, her precious roses choked by weeds. Suddenly he heard Marie’s voice again.
Look, Colin. A box from France! My new tea roses have finally arrived. Yellow, I think. Why, it’s been so long I can’t even recall what I ordered
.
He had enough unwanted memories before Kate Keene had showed up. Now she’d awakened even more.
“I thought I made it clear I don’t want your help. Stop cleaning. And while you are at it, leave the main house alone too.”
“I wish you would go see the progress Simon and the others are making. Did you know Simon’s grandfather built the original house? Your mother’s relations paid him a fair price for his work too.”
“Do Simon and the others know they won’t be getting paid?”
She hesitated. Frown lines marred her forehead just above the bridge of her glasses. She turned so she didn’t have to face him and batted the dust rag along a chair rail.
“I’ve paid them.” Before he could respond she added, “You can pay me when you are on your feet again.”
Kate glanced at his injured ankle. She was close enough to see the angry, ruined skin and deep scars extending below the hem of his pant leg.
“You had no right to butt in here, Miss Keene. None at all.”
Their eyes met briefly before she turned away. She picked up the mop and shoved it into the bucket. She sloshed soapy water onto the floor. It dribbled over the toes of her leather shoes.
“I won’t be beholden to you or anyone,” he added. “I’ll give the place away first.”
“Who’s going to want this tumbled-down mess?”
“You, obviously.”
“It’s yours and Amelie’s. As long as you have
Belle Fleuve
, you have a home and you have land.”
“Why don’t you have a home of your own? Why aren’t you browbeating some hapless husband, drawing up house plans andbestowing your fortune on him instead of me? Would no one have you? Is that it? Too much of an intellect are you, Miss Keene? Did you spend too many hours hunched over plans for
Belle Fleuve
to find yourself a husband and have a proper life?”
K ate was tempted to fling the bucket of soapy water on him, but she put her back into mopping Colin’s muddy floor instead. He probably wouldn’t believe her if she told him she’d turned down half a dozen proposals.
She dunked the dirty mop into the bucket, yanked it out, and twisted the wet, flopping ends before she slapped it against the floor again.
He knew nothing,
nothing
about the offers she’d refused from fine, decent men who would have made wonderful husbands. Men in Boston and Ireland, some from right here in Louisiana. Men who were polite and good humored — nothing like him. A few she denied because they’d seemed more interested in her inheritance than in what she had to offer as a wife. The rest she’d turned down because none had measured up to her ideal. None of them held a candle to the young man who had captured her heart so long ago.
She sneaked a glance in Colin’s direction, then let her gaze linger while he stared out the open French doors. She’d all but given up hope of ever seeing him again until the day Myra returned from the market and told her rumors were rampant about the madman living at the Delany plantation. Kate had ignored the gossip and danced a little jig.
Now surly and unkempt, he was straining her patience. She could barely tolerate the way he was treating her. It was hard to imagine what she’d ever seen in him. Myra had tried to convince Kate that the torch she was carrying for Colin was merely childhood infatuation. The man she thought she loved was not the brooding man who had locked himself away from the world. There was certainly nothing admirable about Colin’s anger or his self-pity.
What did she know of him or what he’d become? Was she taking on too much?
Wielding the mop, Kate vowed right then that once he
Look, Colin. A box from France! My new tea roses have finally arrived. Yellow, I think. Why, it’s been so long I can’t even recall what I ordered
.
He had enough unwanted memories before Kate Keene had showed up. Now she’d awakened even more.
“I thought I made it clear I don’t want your help. Stop cleaning. And while you are at it, leave the main house alone too.”
“I wish you would go see the progress Simon and the others are making. Did you know Simon’s grandfather built the original house? Your mother’s relations paid him a fair price for his work too.”
“Do Simon and the others know they won’t be getting paid?”
She hesitated. Frown lines marred her forehead just above the bridge of her glasses. She turned so she didn’t have to face him and batted the dust rag along a chair rail.
“I’ve paid them.” Before he could respond she added, “You can pay me when you are on your feet again.”
Kate glanced at his injured ankle. She was close enough to see the angry, ruined skin and deep scars extending below the hem of his pant leg.
“You had no right to butt in here, Miss Keene. None at all.”
Their eyes met briefly before she turned away. She picked up the mop and shoved it into the bucket. She sloshed soapy water onto the floor. It dribbled over the toes of her leather shoes.
“I won’t be beholden to you or anyone,” he added. “I’ll give the place away first.”
“Who’s going to want this tumbled-down mess?”
“You, obviously.”
“It’s yours and Amelie’s. As long as you have
Belle Fleuve
, you have a home and you have land.”
“Why don’t you have a home of your own? Why aren’t you browbeating some hapless husband, drawing up house plans andbestowing your fortune on him instead of me? Would no one have you? Is that it? Too much of an intellect are you, Miss Keene? Did you spend too many hours hunched over plans for
Belle Fleuve
to find yourself a husband and have a proper life?”
K ate was tempted to fling the bucket of soapy water on him, but she put her back into mopping Colin’s muddy floor instead. He probably wouldn’t believe her if she told him she’d turned down half a dozen proposals.
She dunked the dirty mop into the bucket, yanked it out, and twisted the wet, flopping ends before she slapped it against the floor again.
He knew nothing,
nothing
about the offers she’d refused from fine, decent men who would have made wonderful husbands. Men in Boston and Ireland, some from right here in Louisiana. Men who were polite and good humored — nothing like him. A few she denied because they’d seemed more interested in her inheritance than in what she had to offer as a wife. The rest she’d turned down because none had measured up to her ideal. None of them held a candle to the young man who had captured her heart so long ago.
She sneaked a glance in Colin’s direction, then let her gaze linger while he stared out the open French doors. She’d all but given up hope of ever seeing him again until the day Myra returned from the market and told her rumors were rampant about the madman living at the Delany plantation. Kate had ignored the gossip and danced a little jig.
Now surly and unkempt, he was straining her patience. She could barely tolerate the way he was treating her. It was hard to imagine what she’d ever seen in him. Myra had tried to convince Kate that the torch she was carrying for Colin was merely childhood infatuation. The man she thought she loved was not the brooding man who had locked himself away from the world. There was certainly nothing admirable about Colin’s anger or his self-pity.
What did she know of him or what he’d become? Was she taking on too much?
Wielding the mop, Kate vowed right then that once he
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