The Scent of Jasmine (Edilean 4) - Page 38

“No, I’ll leave that to Josiah.”

“Don’t tell me he’s another one of your suitors.”

“Keep your voice down!” Cay hissed at him. “Josiah is the man Eliza loves and they’re eloping tomorrow, and they’re going to live on the farm my father owns, the one I told you about.”

Alex’s eyes widened. He almost asked if she meant his farm, the one that Nate had worked hard to save from being sold, the farm that Alex had been saving money to buy, where he planned to live with his wife and their children. Instead, he followed Cay up the stairs to the small room that had been prepared for them. He was glad to see that a long bolster pillow had been tossed onto the bed. It was used to separate strangers when they shared beds in the inns along the roads.

“All right,” he said, “I’m ready to listen.” He sat down on the only chair in the room and waited.

“I was on my way back from the privy when I heard some sounds, so I—”

“What kind of sounds?”

“Uh . . .” She hesitated. How could she say that she heard kissing sounds, the rustle of fabric, and heavy breathing without sounding like she was spying? Which, in a way, was what she’d been doing. But wouldn’t anyone be curious in such an instance?

“Out with it,” Alex said. “And don’t take the time to make up some story you think I’ll like. What did you hear and what did you do?”

“I heard some sounds in one of the stalls in the barn and since I was being very cautious, of course I wanted to investigate.” She glanced at him to see if he was buying that story, and she was glad he was looking at her in that patronizing, avuncular way that she was coming to know well. He looked much better now that his hair was trimmed and pulled back, but his face was still covered with whiskers. However, there seemed to be fewer lines at his eyes, and he looked younger than she’d first supposed. Maybe it was the dim light in the room.

As she sat down on the end of the bed, she asked herself why she was bothering to sugarcoat the truth. After all, this man wasn’t related to her, so why did she have to protect him from the realities of life? “I heard sounds of lovemaking.”

“Lovemaking?”

“Yes. Kissing, that sort of thing. I went toward it and I saw Eliza and Josiah in the stall and they were kissing and . . . and . . .” She waved her hand. He could fill in the rest for himself. “I started to tiptoe away, but then Eliza began to cry.”

“So you went back,” Alex said. “Don’t you realize that that’s just what a female would do? How can you keep your disguise if you always act like a girl?”

“Might I remind you that on that first night when I cried, you handed me a handkerchief? Does that make you a girl?”

Alex turned his head away to hide his smile, but she saw it.

“So what was Eliza’s problem?” Alex asked, and she could tell that the anger was gone. She knew that the cause of his bad temper was that he’d been worried about her.

“Her father wants her to marry a rich old man.”

“And I take it that she wants to marry a young and poor one.”

“Yes. She’s in love with Josiah, but he hasn’t a penny.” Cay was looking at Alex and thinking how familiar he’d become to her in the last few days. When she thought of being in Charleston with Hope and Uncle T.C., it seemed like a very long time ago.

“So what did you do? Give them a farm?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. After all he and Nate had done, it now looked as though Cay was blithely going to give the farm to someone else. Never before had he resented her sense of entitlement, but he did now.

“I told them that if they’d take my letters to my family I’d see that my father gave them jobs. Josiah likes to grow things, and since my father has a farm that needs a manager, I suggested that place in my letter to my father. What is wrong with you? You’re acting like I did something I shouldn’t have. I thought you’d be pleased that I was able to get letters out, one to Nate telling him the truth, and one to my father telling him I’m having a great time in Charleston. They’ll be delivered in person.”

Alex was concerned that the Charleston paper would have included Cay’s name in their stories of the prison break and that by now her father and brothers were in town. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Did the barmaid know you were female? Is that why she let you . . . ?” He made a gesture in front of his chest.

“No, she thinks I’m a boy who is making it possible for her to elope with the man she loves. As for the . . .” Cay made the same gesture he had. “Her shirt was out of place from the . . . you know, in the stables with Josiah, and I was fixing it for her. I’m afraid I forgot that I’m supposed to be a boy. For a minute. I only forgot for one minute, and I won’t forget again. Those men certainly made a fuss over that, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did. Much too much of a fuss, and because of it, they’ll remember us well.” Alex got up, went to the narrow window, and looked out. He needed to get himself under control. She’d done a good job and he had no right to be angry at her. If T.C. had managed to keep her name out of the papers, and if for some reason Alex’s letter had never reached Nate, Cay had done a very good thing. And she wasn’t the one who’d stolen a dream from him. That had been done when Lilith had been . . . taken from the earth.

Cay knew nothing of Alex’s worries. She was thinking that it was odd being in the small room with him, as they’d mostly been out of doors together. But with walls that confined the space, it was much more intimate than being outside. Cay went to stand beside him. “Are you thinking about your wife?” she asked softly.

“Yes. I wanted to raise horses, and we were going to—” Breaking off, he turned to look at her. Her thick hair was loose from the tie at the back, and her long eyelashes looked up at him in innocence.

Cay could feel the awkwardness between them and she didn’t like it. She liked the easy camaraderie they’d developed and she wanted to keep it. “You sure do smell good,” she said.

Smiling, Alex turned away from the window, and the uncomfortable moment was gone. “I want this side of the bed, the one near the door.”

Tags: Jude Deveraux Edilean Romance
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