A Man to Call My Own

Chapter 25

DINNER WAS VERY NICE that evening, even though the food was nearly cold. Kathleen was embarrassed a bit about that, since her cook was renowned for serving her creations at the perfect temperature, no matter how long people were delayed in coming to the table. That it wasn't that way tonight was Consuela's way of letting the household know that she wasn't happy.

Of course the reason for her displeasure wasn't there to notice it. But Marian figured the odds were pretty good that the food sent up to Amanda had been much colder. It had been really stupid of her sister to insult the only cook in the house. But then her sister's options had been limited, since Kathleen only employed the two household servants.

Cold though it was, the food was still tasty, Consuela being such a marvelous cook. And the conversation was relaxed with just the three of them present.

Kathleen was chatty and explained a bit about what she did during the day. It certainly wasn't a routine one would expect a woman to be doing—deciding which cows to breed and which to take to market, nursing motherless calves, chasing down strays.

"I'd like to help," Marian offered. "That is, if you think I might be useful. I don't mind hard work."

Kathleen looked a bit skeptical. "There isn't really much that's suitable for a lady to do around here. Don't you have a pastime you enjoy? Reading, embroidery, something like that?"

"I used to paint," Marian said a bit shyly, not very confident of her talent after her family's derision. "I was thinking I might check in Trenton, to see if there are any supplies I can buy there to start." Kathleen was smiling, so she added a bit defensively, "Not a good choice?"

"On the contrary, I see we have even more in common than I thought. I used to paint as well. In fact, my old supplies are around here somewhere. I never find the time for it anymore, but you're more'n welcome to dig all that stuff out and make use of it."

"I'd like that. Thank you. I'd also like to learn to ride. I'd love to join you occasionally, when you ride out to check on your stock."

"You've never ridden at all?"

"Prior to today, no, and today wasn't very—successful—as I'm sure you've heard. Father kept two coaches, and a carriage for the summer, but no horses just for riding, so Amanda and I never had an opportunity to learn."

"Well, we'll definitely have to take care of that," Kathleen said, and looked at Chad. "Would you mind teaching her?"

He put his fork down, but didn't answer for a moment. Then with a glance toward Marian and a smile, he said, "Sure, be glad to. Long as I don't get blamed if you take a few spills while getting the hang of it."

Marian stared at him. Kathleen chuckled. "He's joking. It takes a lot of effort to fall off a horse when you're in control of it, and you don't need to put that much effort into it."

When Chad laughed, too, Marian realized that Kathleen was teasing her. She grinned to show she didn't mind. But she wasn't the least bit used to being teased. It was something she'd like to get used to, though.

She was still embarrassed, not because of the teasing, but because of Chad's pause before he'd answered. He didn't really want to teach her to ride. That was obvious, and she couldn't blame him. She'd done a good job of making him want to avoid her.

But, apparently, he found it difficult to say no to Kathleen. Marian could understand that. She would probably find it just as difficult. Kathleen was simply too nice, the kind of person you didn't want to disappoint.

Marian didn't want Chad teaching her to ride either, but for a different reason. She was finding it harder and harder to be in his presence and pretend indifference to him.

She wasn't going to insult him in front of Kathleen, however, by refusing his offer. She could do that when they were alone, no doubt to his great relief.

They were about halfway through the main meal when Chad glanced around and asked somewhat in surprise, "Amanda isn't joining us?"

Marian almost laughed. She had the feeling that he'd only just noticed Amanda's absence. If so, that was a firm indication that he wasn't deeply enamored with her yet.

Kathleen merely said, "She spent most of the day in her room resting, and wanted to take her meals there as well. Poor dear must be really exhausted after the trip, to need so much rest."

Marian almost choked. Poor dear? She wondered how long it would take Kathleen to realize there was nothing "poor" or "dear" about Amanda. She wished she'd been able to finish explaining about her sister. Kathleen deserved some type of warning before Amanda got nasty in her campaign to get shipped home with permission to do as she pleased.

Marian hoped Chad would leave right after dinner so she could spend a little more time alone with her aunt before she retired for the night. It was still early. They could finish their talk. But as it happened, Kathleen had no sooner escorted them back to the porch and waited until they were seated there, then she yawned and announced that she was turning in early.

Marian should have done the same, but that would have been yet another insult to Chad. It would have smacked of cowardice as well, and she'd rather not add to all the other bad impressions she'd made on him.

Still, she felt immensely uncomfortable as the door closed and Kathleen's footsteps faded away. She hoped he didn't expect conversation. No, he wouldn't. They didn't like each other, so why should they talk? For that matter, why should they stay in each other's company when they didn't like each other? Why didn't he leave?

There wasn't much light on the porch. No lamp had been lit out there since the lamps in the main gathering room hadn't been turned off yet, and some of their light spilled out through the two windows that faced the porch.

She tried not to look in Chad's direction. It was hard. The one time she did, she found him staring at her, at her lips in particular. He was probably just lost in thought and didn't realize he was staring. But still, it gave her gooseflesh, having his eyes on her.

"What is Chad short for?" she found herself asking out of pure nervousness.

"Short for?"

"It's a nickname, isn't it?"

"No, darlin', it doesn't get any longer."

She heard the humor in his tone, which annoyed her. It had been a natural mistake. The name didn't usually stand on its own. And she should take him to task over that "darlin," except she'd heard for herself how common the use of that word was out here, no different than the old-timers calling her "missy," or the train attendant calling her "ma'am." It meant nothing. There wasn't a speck of endearment in it.

"Thank you for clearing that up for me," she said a bit stiffly.

"My pleasure."

She had a feeling he would have tipped his hat if he'd been wearing it just then rather than holding it in his hand. She'd like to tip his rocker over. He could be so damn irritating—no, it probably wasn't even him, it was her reaction to him, her nervousness, her—wanting him when she knew she couldn't have him.

"By the way," she said. "You don't need to teach me to ride. I'll manage—"

"I said I would," he interrupted.

She was letting him off the hook. Couldn't he see that?

"Yes, but my aunt shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"It's no big deal," he replied, though impatience crept into his tone.

"You've already done quite enough," she pointed out, her own tone getting sharper over his stubbornness. "And I'm sure you have much more important things to do than to waste your time on me."

"I said I'll teach you," he said, his voice getting much louder.

"You don't have to," she gritted out.

"I'll teach you, dammit!

"Fine, you do that!"

She stood up to leave in a huff and wasn't about to bid him good night or anything else. Stubborn, exasperating, contrary man. But he shot to his feet at the same time, probably with the same intention.

They collided instead, there in front of the door. His hands gripped her shoulders to keep her from falling, and started to set her away at arm's reach. His eyes were drawn to her lips again though, stayed there for a long moment, and suddenly he was yanking her back toward him.

He was kissing her. Her. There was no mistake this time. Her spectacles were firmly in place, her hair as tightly drawn back as ever, and she was wearing one of her dull, it-had-seen-better-days dresses.

It was so unexpected she just stood there, shocked, and let his mouth move heatedly over hers. But not for long. There was just too much passion in the kiss for her not to respond, especially when her emotions had already been stirred up with anger. It was exchanging one passion for another and it was a smooth exchange... .

He set her away from him, quite abruptly. "It was you that night Leroy found us," he said in an accusing tone, "pretending to be your sister."

Marian stiffened. He knew they were twins? But she wore her disguise so well!

"Who told you we're twins?"

"No one had to tell me, darlin. I'm not the one who wears spectacles, you are."

So that's why he'd kissed her? Just to make a comparison with that other kiss, because he hadn't been sure it was her diat night, but now he thought he was? That wasn't very flattering, but then she was the sister who never got flattered. She should have known, though, that he wouldn't kiss her just because he wanted to.

Disappointed more than she wanted to admit, she said, "I never deliberately pretend to be my sister. Amanda enjoys little tricks like that, I don't."

Suddenly he looked very embarrassed, if you could go by his darkened complexion, Apparently he was tongue-tied, too. "I—that—" he began, then closed his mouth before he stuck his foot in it.

She realized he was confused because she hadn't admitted anything. She'd merely stated a fact. Just as well. She didn't want him to guess her feelings for him when he still had designs on Amanda.

"There's no need to explain," Marian said. "I understand that was a mistake." She opened the door to leave before her throat closed up on her, and added curtly, "Just don't let it happen again."

She heard a thud against the closed door. It was some consolation to think he'd thrown his hat at it. She hoped it was dented out of shape. Serve him right for trampling on her emotions like that.